Snowfall (2 page)

It made it worse that he was right. Those cats weren’t scared of anything. They kept coming closer and closer to the house and camp areas. Cougars were by nature shy and invisible hunters, easily scared off by loud noises and people. The ones on this mountain didn’t seem to know that they were supposed to be that way. Instead they were brazen. And lately nothing but the dogs seemed to scare them off.

Ashley shook off the thought of those two idiots out there weighed down with gear and trekking it to the cabin instead of watching out for themselves. They were here because of the cats, after all. She told herself they’d be fine and continued cooking.

As she ranted less and looked out the windows more, the dogs didn’t say a word—another reason she loved them.

Chapter Four

“Hey? Eagle? I think I lost my big toe. It snapped off the third time I fell and it’s been knocking around like an ice cube in my boot ever since.”

“Shut up, Ponch.” But he said it with a grim smile. The house was less than thirty feet away. They were loaded down like a couple of pack mules. His legs were on fire and even with the extreme snow gear he was soaked and freezing. Poncho was in the same predicament. Both of them were in good shape, but a mile in three feet of snow, loaded with equipment would put even a Ranger under.

Looking toward the house, his smile became less grim. It was a sprawling log cabin with two rock chimneys that had a welcoming curl of smoke coming from each one of them. The lights were on in the front windows, and he smelled something wonderful in the air. He quickened his steps and swore to himself if the ornery woman hadn’t made enough of whatever she’d cooked for the two of them he was going to strangle her.

He was focused on the porch, each step a trial of endurance. He was wearing his snowshoes, but that required his walk to be a straddled march that was killing his gluts. Even with the snowshoes he still sank a little with each step and had to wrench up and out of the snow to take the next step, which was killing his quads. Focusing on the pain each step caused wasn’t going to get him there any faster, so he just watched the porch get closer and closer until all he saw was it and the warm glow from the front window.

The cat came from out of nowhere. Between one grueling step and the next, he went down under two hundred pounds of tawny fur and quivering muscle. He was loaded down in gear and padded from his high-endurance snowsuit, so he didn’t feel fang or claw. Only incredible force. As the two of them rolled from the impact, Jake saw a flash of teeth and emerald eyes a millisecond before he heard that hissing, snarling growl that only a cougar could make. He didn’t think, training and instinct kicked in and he brought his knee up to the tender belly and shot his fingers toward the beast’s eyes, clawing as much as his gloves would allow. It reared back and tried to shake him off. He hung on, clinging like a burr. He knew that if he let go, the cat would go for his jugular and he would be dead.

“Argh!” he yelled as it shook like a rodeo horse and his already tired muscles screamed in protest. Dimly he heard Poncho shouting and felt the cat shudder under an impact. Before he thought to guess what Poncho was doing he was hit hard in the shoulder, so he yelled again, this time at Poncho.

What he said was lost in another roar from the cat and a new sound. Furious barking joined the cat’s growls and a second later the cat was barreled into by two snarling, jaw-snapping dogs. In a colorful roll of fur and the unspeakable sounds of animal voices locked in a life-and-death battle, the dogs saved his life and risked their own. Time seemed to slow in the way that it did during moments like this. Every second seemed to last an eternity. Every detail seemed magnified. Jake could see the ripple of the cat’s muscles as it fought the two huge dogs. Fierce snarls and thunder-deep growls made the soundtrack to the battle. Fur and snow flew in a flurry around them as they fought to survive.

In what felt like hours but in reality was only seconds, the cat disentangled itself. It took a moment to crouch and pose, ready to fight should the dogs charge again. With one last hissing roar, ears pinned back and fur raised, it was gone. It disappeared into the trees as fast as it had appeared. The dogs, well trained and smart enough not to follow the cat into its territory, stood guard. There were three of them, he saw. The third had taken point and stood guard over Poncho and kept close to his charge. All three had their hackles raised and stood fierce and formidable in a semi-circle around the two men, not relaxing until they heard the call from Ashley.

“Good boys. Stand down.”

Jake turned from studying the dogs to look toward their owner. She was chalk white and stood with the warm light from the open doorway behind her. She had her rifle clutched in a death grip and even from this distance he could see how she quivered.

First things first though. “Poncho,” he asked as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, “What in the hell did you hit me with?” He looked toward his best friend and partner while he rubbed at the shoulder that Poncho had damn near shattered with his blow. The lighthearted grumble had the desired effect and set the two others in motion. Ashley came pounding down the stairs, calling for her dogs, while Poncho shuffled over to him, dragging his shotgun in the snow.

“I had to hit you. You could have hurt that poor kitty cat.” All kidding aside, Poncho dropped to his knees beside him and looked him over for injuries with the care of the mother hen Jake always accused him of being.

“I’m fine,” he brushed him off. “He couldn’t get a grip on me, thank God.”

Poncho’s gaze met and held his. “She. She couldn’t get a grip on you.”

With a dawning horror and a colorful curse, Jake struggled to his feet. “Females don’t get that big,
amigo
. No way was that a female.”

“Look, you may be the babe magnet here, but I know a male from a female even if I haven’t had the pleasure of one in so long I’ve forgotten what to do with them.”

“Shut up.” Jake swayed on his feet for a second. “Smart-ass.” He looked around, checking for damage to his suit and gear. Unless he had a hell of an adrenaline rush, he was pretty sure his body was intact—it was his gear he was concerned with right now. As he bent to check his camera he heard Ashley and his stomach dropped.

“Apollo?” Her voice was frantic and full of worry, “Apollo, baby. Let me see. Dammit, Grover, get back. I need to see.” She wasn’t more than five three and couldn’t weigh more than a kid, but she shouldered the giant Irish wolfhound out of the way like Grover was a lap dog.

Apollo. Her mastiff. Two hundred pounds of muscle and heart. He knew Apollo. All the dogs were loyal to her and she loved them all. But he hadn’t seen her without this one since they’d met and knew she’d had him since he was a brand-new pup. Damn dog went everywhere with her. He was lying in the snow, his massive side flexing with his breaths. Jake hadn’t seen him go down. Fighter that he was, he’d kept to his feet until his mistress had given the call. Jake and Poncho hurried to his side and watched with dismay as the snow surrounding Apollo turned crimson.

Ashley fought to keep panic at bay and focus on what needed to be done. She tried to push away the fact that Apollo was her baby. The one who slept closest to her. The one who always knew her mood, would snuggle when she was feeling down or tug her into the yard for a tussle when she was restless. The one whose heart was so big and brave that he was always the first out the door when there was danger.

The other two were whining and circling her. They knew it was bad. She could hear the frantic yips and scratching from the dogs still trapped inside. They all knew the leader of their pack was down and their cries were tearing through her resolve to stay calm and focused. She needed to do something, but she couldn’t think, couldn’t move.

Her hands were covered in blood as soon as she tried to stem the flow from the biggest of the wounds. She pushed as hard as she could and prayed like she never had in her life.

“Baby. Baby,” she sobbed, knowing he was dying and helpless to stop it, “Hang on, baby. Hang on, Apollo. For me. Plea— Please, Apollo. Stay with me, boy.”

“Son of a—” Jake knelt down next to her and cursed when he saw the damage. “Let me help.”

Ashley elbowed him. Hard.

“Get away.”

He wasn’t deterred and gripped her shoulders. “Poncho’s got a first aid kit. Let us help. Get out of the way and let us help him.”

Ashley shook her head no, lost to her panic, thinking only that she had to stop the bleeding. Jake’s cold gloves grasped either side of her face. “Look at me,” he demanded with a rough shake when she still wouldn’t take her eyes off Apollo. “Go to his head. He needs to see you. If we can’t save him, you’ll want yours to be the last face he sees, won’t you?” Tears filled and fell from her eyes at that and she saw him flinch, then he pushed her toward Apollo’s head and started barking orders at Poncho. Ashley didn’t know what they said to each other, all her focus was on Apollo and his precious, trusting face. She knew he had to be in tremendous pain, but he only gazed at her with loving eyes and licked her when she leaned in close to bury her nose in his scruff.

Jake blocked out the sounds of her tears. He would break if he didn’t. The cougar got a good swipe in Apollo’s belly. He was bleeding freely from two nasty gashes. Jake opened the wound to get a look at the damage. If the intestines were intact all they had to do was stop the bleeding. If they weren’t there’d be no use.

“Shouldn’t we get him inside?” Poncho was crouched next to him, field kit at the ready.

“No,” he replied, “The cold will help slow the bleeding.”

Poncho nodded and started pulling out the necessary items. “Good. I don’t think we could lift him anyway,” he murmured, then the two worked side by side in synchronized silence to save the dog that had been willing to lay down his life for them. Ashley cradled his massive head in her tender arms and wept into his neck.

Chapter Five

“
Misery.
” Jake looked at Ashley and couldn’t keep the smile off his face as she walked away from the TV. “Now that’s just mean.”

“What do you expect? Want me to put on
Fried Green Tomatoes
instead?” He threw a pillow at her and just missed as she went to check on Apollo. The valiant mastiff seemed to be doing okay, but his worried mommy was checking on him every ten minutes anyway.

“Hey cool,” Poncho exclaimed from his seat on the other side of the couch, “I never saw this movie. Didn’t what’s her face get an award for this?” Poncho dug into the homemade chicken pot pie that hadn’t burned while they’d all been out in the snow.

He watched as what’s her face—Kathy Bates—proceeded to beat the crap out of a stranded and hurt James Caan. As the movie’s plot unfolded, Poncho understood why Jake had given Ashley a bad time about it. It was too similar to the situation they were in. A man stranded in a snowstorm and depending on a crazy woman to shelter and care for him until the roads were clear enough to get out.

“You got a pretty mean streak in you, little lady,” he admonished as she sat between them. “That’s not funny. I’m gonna lock my door tonight now.” Both Ashley and Jake snickered, but Poncho was serious. “I mean it. I’ma have nightmares about waking up with a crazy-ass Ashley standin’ over me with a sledgehammer.”

The snicker turned to a full-out laugh when Poncho scooted farther into the corner of the couch and stuffed a throw pillow between him and Ashley.

Ashley did her best interpretation of crazy eyes at Poncho then shoved to her feet again. “Ashley.” Jake caught her hand. “He’s fine. You’ve checked him eight times since the movie started. Let him sleep.” He looked from her wide eyes to their clasped hands. He’d touched her before and always it was like a low-level current. Electricity would run from the point of contact to his gut and lower. This time was no different. Except for the first time, he got the feeling that she felt it too. His fingers were long, enveloping her small hand so that some of his fingers were lying on her delicate wrist, and he felt the increase in her pulse. He froze for half a second in wonder. Then he decided to test her. He tugged, she stepped closer and the pulse kicked again. He slid his hand over hers until his longest finger was in the warm pillow of her palm. He stroked there, and her pulse went into over drive just before she snatched her hand back with a scowl and marched out of the room.

Well, well, well
, he thought. The ice queen wasn’t quite as indifferent as she’d like him to believe. With his thoughts turning to what he was going to do about that he was unprepared for Poncho’s yelp.

“What the hell? Crazy bitch. Aarrgh!” It was at that moment Jake discovered why his best friend never watched scary movies. Poncho was one hundred and sixty pounds of mean scrapper. He’d had his college tuition paid in full on a wrestling scholarship and right now he was hiding his face in a pillow over a Stephen King movie.

“Poncho.” He leaned over and whispered around the pillow, “Man, I’m never letting you forget this.”

Ashley stood on the other side of the wall and willed her heartbeat to return to a normal level. Once she was sure her legs could carry her, she went to her bedroom and knelt by Apollo. She would have put him in the bed and slept in one of the guest rooms or even the couch if it came to that. Unfortunately the other dogs wouldn’t leave him alone and she didn’t want them to jostle him as they bounced on and off the mattress.