Montana Daddy

“Not when the life of someone else is at stake. Or their future.”

Rory sensed she was talking about something besides the current medical crisis, but he wasn’t all that good at reading women. In college he hadn’t had much time for dating; he’d been lashed to the books with only a faint hope he would manage to finish the rigorous training to become a vet. Since then, living in Grass Valley, the selection of females had been limited. Granted, he’d dated a few women but none of them had clicked.

No woman could compare to his memories of Kristi.

She drained the cup and passed it back to him. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Their words sounded too formal, considering all that they had once shared together.

He filled the cup again and sipped while keeping his gaze on Kristi. Her cheeks were flushed with the cold, twin spots the color of a summer rose. Her eyes were almost midnight blue under the cloudy sky, and their depths held both question and pride. “Don’t mess with me” radiated from the way she held her shoulders so rigidly.

“Should we be moving on?” she asked.

“Can you feel your feet again?”

“Warm as toast.”

He didn’t believe that for a moment but he didn’t see any point in arguing.

Returning the capped thermos to the backpack, he risked unzipping his heavy jacket long enough to pull out his cell phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Thought I’d get a weather report from my brother.” He flipped open the phone, switched it on and waited for something to happen. Nada.

“You can’t get a connection?”

“Nope. This far north the coverage is inconsistent under the best of circumstances. With this storm, I didn’t think there’d be much of a chance. We’ll have to wait till we get to the Durfees’ radio.”

“My best guess is that the report calls for continued snow and intermittent freezing toes. I think we’d better keep going.” She pulled her helmet down again, tapped the visor into place, turned and walked back to her snowmobile.

Intermittent was right, as far as her reactions to him were concerned. One minute she was bright, witty or moaning into the radio headset in her helmet. The next thing he knew, she was all bristle like a porcupine under attack.

God, he’d never understand women!

THE CLOUDS BEGAN to lift and with them the snow turned to big, fluffy flakes, falling more gently to the ground. Even so, it seemed an eternity before a small cabin loomed ahead of them in a clearing. Sturdily made of hand-hewn logs, a faint trace of smoke drifted from a chimney, but no lights shone from the windows that sat on either side of the door.

Rory pulled his snowmobile to a stop in front of the porch, which was a foot or two below the current snow level. Someone had shoveled a path partway around to the side of the house. No doubt Everett’s nearly fatal project.

Beyond the path were two sets of footprints sinking deeply into the snow.

“Thank goodness we’re finally here,” Kristi said as she parked next to Rory and dismounted, stomping her feet in the futile hope of regaining her circulation. The thought of having to get back on the snowmobile for the return trip filled her with shivery dread. She’d never be warm again.

After the racket of the snowmobiles, the clearing was eerily still. Snowflakes drifted down soundlessly, creating a blanket of silence. Kristi heard only the tick of cooling engines and the soft hum of pine needles shifting under the press of snow.

“I’m surprised Jane hasn’t come out to greet us,” she whispered, unwilling to break the quiet of the clearing. “She had to have heard us coming.”

“Maybe she’s occupied with Everett.” Rory walked up to the door and knocked. Wearing heavy cold-weather gear, including moon boots, he looked a bit like a traveler from outer space. Yet he moved with the smooth strides of a born athlete, totally confident, no wasted motions.

He’d been like that as a lover, too. Confident. Masterful. Each stroke designed to arouse and give pleasure.

When he knocked again and still got no answer, Kristi said, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Maybe something has happened to Jane, too.”

Testing the latch, he found the door unlocked, probably not unusual in this remote part of the world but still troubling from Kristi’s point of view. Jane really should have greeted them by now.

He shoved the door open and called to the cabin’s occupants. “Jane? Everett? It’s Rory Oakes. Are you here?” When he got no response he stepped inside.

With images of the couple succumbing to carbon monoxide from the wood fire or freezing to death in their isolated world, Kristi followed him inside.

The cozy living area featured a comfortable-appearing couch with a colorful afghan tossed over the back and a wooden rocking chair. Books cluttered several pine shelves, and skeins of yarn spilled out of a basket beside the rocking chair, the work-in-progress draped over its arm. Nearby a potbellied wood stove provided heat for the cabin.

At the opposite end of the dimly lit room stood the kitchen and eating area. Except for a mug on the counter, everything was neat and tidy, including the radio on a table by the wall. Kerosene lanterns were placed around the room at various locations.

Rory peered into the adjacent room. “Nobody’s here.”

Worried, Kristi glanced around. “Where could they be?”

“I haven’t a clue.” His dark brows tugged together. “Put a couple more logs in the fire. I’ll go around back and crank up the generator. Maybe Jane radioed Eric to let him know what was going on.”

“Do you think something’s happened to them?”

“I think Jane has her head on straight. They’ve lived remotely for a dozen years or more. Wherever they are, I’d put my money on them to survive.”

Kristi hoped so. It hardly seemed possible someone came along and did them harm, not in this weather. But a wife desperate to save her husband’s life might do something foolish.

Pulling off her heavy gloves and peeling off her snowsuit, Kristi added fuel from the wood box to the banked fire. The Durfees hadn’t been gone long. The temperature in the cabin was well above freezing.

The low roar of the generator kicked in, filling the unnatural silence in the cabin. Moments later Rory returned, stomping the snow from his boots and slapping his gloves together. Tugging off his ski cap, he shook his head, shifting the strands of his midnight-black hair back into place.

“They’ve gone off on their tractor,” he announced.

“Jane and Everett?”

He nodded.

“Why didn’t they wait for us?” If they were planning to leave on their own, they sure could have saved Rory and Kristi a long, uncomfortable trip.

“Who knows.” He shrugged out of his gear, tossed it aside and went to the radio, switching it on.

“They could have at least left a note so we’d know what was going on.” Not that a note would have changed anything. She and Rory still would have endured that miserably cold ride.

“Maybe they let Eric or the doc know what was up.”

It didn’t take long for Eric to respond to Rory’s call on the emergency radio frequency.

“I gather you made it to the Durfees’ cabin.”

“We did,” Rory responded, speaking into a small black microphone with a curling cord stretching to the radio. The dials glowed orange in the half light of a midday twilight. “But there’s nobody here except us snow bunnies. Did Jane check in with you before taking off?” He paused a moment, then Eric responded.