Blind Fury (18 page)

She kicked off her boots, grabbed an extra pair of socks from her backpack, and changed quickly.
Eating, drinking, rubbing his eyes
. “Go to sleep, Colin,” she whispered. She yanked on dry gloves, shouldered her pack, and led the reluctant gelding to the barn door.

The other horse, his muzzle buried in a pile of hay, ignored them. So far, so good.

She peeked around the corner, gazing intently toward the lodge. She hadn't bothered with a lantern, and it appeared Colin hadn't either, because no light came from behind the wide, plate glass window. She strained to see inside, but the view from here was limited. She would just have to take a chance that he was preoccupied with feeding his face, or better yet, fast asleep and snoring. She giggled at the image of Colin lounging on the sofa, hat pulled low over his eyes, his breath rattling the rafters. When her chuckles unexpectedly turned to tears, she dashed them away with the back of her hand and led Dakota around the corner to the far side of the barn. When she was sure they were out of sight of the lodge, she stepped up on a tree stump and into the saddle.

She guided Dakota east, then north, across the wooden bridge. When he hesitated, turning automatically onto the river trail, she pulled his head around and urged him forward into the wind.

It seemed they'd been riding for hours when she recognized the rock formations that told her they were entering Cutter's Gap. The ridge above them looked bare, pocked by carcasses of blackened trees, with no sign of the sturdy mountain goats that usually grazed there. But the valley they entered was still green, with stands of fir and snow-covered pine, interspersed with wild rhododendrons and azaleas. Kara could see where the fire had jumped the ridge and continued on its raging path toward Otter Lake, missing this valley completely.

As they rode on, the sky grew dark. Once she thought she heard someone scream. She brought Dakota to a halt, but there was only silence. Angry, low clouds rolled in from
the west, and lace-shaped snowflakes sprinkled the horse's mane. Any other time Wakara would have gasped in awe at the beauty and power of nature. Now all she felt was a swift kick of fear.

Dakota's head stayed down, his breathing rapid. She reached around to rub his chest and found it foamy with sweat. She felt an instant regret. “I'm sorry, boy. We'll find a place to stop.”

Another look at the sky told her they needed to find shelter—fast!

She urged the tired horse into a stand of trees. A cave would be better, she thought. There was always the danger of a tree limb crashing down on them—a widow-maker. Loggers had made up that term for branches that snapped off in the cold and crushed anyone standing in the way. She shuddered and studied the area around them in the fading light.
Well, Wako, now it's time to see if you learned anything from your own survival course
.

The most important thing was warmth, and she headed off on foot to gather as much wood as possible. She found a broken tree branch, then another, and soon had enough to make the frame for a small shelter. She worked quickly, piling on pine boughs and lining the floor with a thick layer of cedar. She pulled off Dakota's saddle, spread the saddle pad on top of the branches, and then added another layer of cedar.

With another broken branch she dug out a small circle at the entrance to her shelter, then piled rocks for a windbreak and started a fire. She wanted nothing more than to huddle in its warmth, eat some of her meager provisions, and fall asleep, but one glance toward the clearing told her she didn't dare.

It had come on so fast. Like someone had turned over one of those paperweights, and poof, instant snowstorm.

Using the saddle cinch to secure Dakota's two blankets to his back, she fed him the last of the grain, then poured water from one of the canteens into the empty container. He sucked greedily, and she gently rubbed his neck. “Sorry, boy, I didn't mean to get you into this.” She tried to quiet her conscience with the thought that he'd already eaten at least two pads of hay today. That, plus the grain and blankets, would help to keep him warm. “You'll probably be more comfortable than I will.”

As if to verify the fact, Dakota snorted, cocked one back foot, and closed his eyes.

Darkness fell as quickly as the snow, and Kara thought the temperature had dropped at least 20 degrees. She shivered as the cold seeped into her bones, and the fire drew her like a moth to a flame.

A layer of snow packed over the pine boughs would help insulate the shelter, but she didn't have the strength. She quickly stowed her saddlebags and pack in the back of the shelter and crawled in after them. It didn't leave much room to sit, let alone lie down, but the crowded conditions would keep her warmer, and the packs would stay dry.

She tugged off her boots. Thank God she had brought along her fur-lined slippers. They would help thaw out her feet. She pulled them on, along with a clean pair of thick, wool socks. The chicken soup she'd had for lunch was a distant memory. She finished off one package of trail mix and closed her eyes. A hamburger or a huge bowl of Anne's chili would sure taste good right now.

Thinking back on her hasty exit, she realized that Colin might very well have come after her, and she felt another
pang of guilt. All she wanted to do was find Dad and Greg. Had she caused more trouble instead?

She groaned and lay against the backpack, bending her knees and shifting her feet to the side so they wouldn't land in the fire. “I'm so tired! Take care of them, God, please? And Colin too.”

Maybe he saw the storm coming and stayed at Eagle Lodge. But she had a gut feeling he had followed her.

No one is responsible for this mess but you
. The words she had spoken to Ryan haunted her dreams.

A
SOUND
LIKE
A
WOMAN
'
S
SCREAM
shattered the night. Wakara bolted upright, hit her head on a pole, and nearly overturned the shelter. Lightning bolts of fear shot through her as the scream came again, closer this time; a long, drawn out
Heeellp
rising in pitch, then swallowed by the still, cold air. The fire had burned down to embers. It had stopped snowing, and she could just make out Dakota's form as he whinnied and stamped around the tree, trying to break free of his ties.

Her heart was galloping like a million hoofbeats in her chest. Then she smelled it—the damp, unwashed smell of a wild animal. Only one thing in the woods sounded and smelled like that.

Cougar
!

Dakota became even more agitated as moonlight filtered through the trees, bouncing shadows off the snow. Kara felt like she was frozen to the ground. Her mouth was as dry as a dusty rag, and it hurt to breathe. One of the shadows moved outside, jolting her to action.

“EEAYAH!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. She scrambled around, grabbed a piece of firewood, and threw it. “Go on!” she screamed and threw another. “Get out of here!”

The shadow growled and backed away, but didn't leave. Quickly, she added a handful of twigs and moss to the embers in her fire pit and blew gently on the flames.
Don't panic. Don't panic
. She kept repeating it over and over. There was no doubt in her mind that the cat would go after Dakota first, then, maybe, have her for dessert.

When she had the fire built up enough to offer some protection, she groped for the stick she'd used to dig the pit. One chance, that's all she'd have. Her hands were shaking, and she was so cold she didn't even know if her legs would support her.
Please, God. I can't do this on my own
. Hot tears ran down her cheeks, but she didn't even try to wipe them away. She sniffed and rolled to her knees. Her muscles cramped, and she let out a scream of pain. The shadow darted through the trees in front of her and became the biggest cougar she'd ever seen.

Dakota went ballistic. Kicking and jerking at the rope, he finally broke free, nearly trampling the shelter as he ran. Wakara knew she had to act—NOW—before the cougar went after him.

She quickly stuck the pointed end of the stick in the fire, then scrambled out of the shelter, waving her arms and yelling at the top of her lungs. It felt like slow motion as she grabbed the flaming stick, drew back her arm, and fired it like a javelin at the crouching animal.

Later, she would have to admit she wasn't sure what happened next. The big cat yowled once, then was gone, leaving behind huge footprints and the smell of scorched fur.

She wasn't sure how long she huddled in the shelter, trying to get warm. She cried and prayed. When her muscles finally stopped quivering, the sky was turning light. Movement in the bushes sent her heart skipping again, but a soft snort told her Dakota was back.

“Thank you, God!”

She crawled out of the shelter and wrapped her arms around the big gelding's neck, breathing in the sweet, damp smell. “Good boy. You're a good horse; I knew you wouldn't leave me.”

She forced herself to make coffee, ate a candy bar and another fruit roll, then stuck a wad of jerky in her jacket pocket to chew on as she rode. Dakota was quietly munching grass from the half-circle he'd trampled around his tree. It wasn't much, but she let him eat, then offered him the last of the water in one canteen.

“Hang on, boy,” she told him as she led him into the clearing. She climbed a large rock and stepped into the saddle. “If we don't find them by noon, we'll turn back.”

An hour later, she saw the smoke.

She spotted it from the top of a hill. At first it looked like mist rising from the valley floor, but as she watched, it curled and darkened. Then the wind changed and she picked up the distinctive campfire smell.

Relief flooded through her, making her legs tremble as she stood in the stirrups. “DAD!” she shouted and spurred Dakota forward, pulling him up just in time to keep from plunging down a steep ravine. Her heart thudded against her ribs as she studied the trampled ground, where a huge gash in the earth showed that something or someone had gone over the side.

She filled her lungs with air and screamed as loud as she could. “DAD!”

“Wakara? Here!”

When he stepped into her line of vision, she gasped. It looked as if he came right out of the side of the mountain. He shielded his eyes, looking up at her and motioning her away. “Get back. Don't go near the edge—it isn't stable.”

“How do I get down there?”

He motioned her around, through another stand of trees. “It flattens out on the other side. Follow the tree line to the left. You'll find the way.”

Ten minutes later, she slid off Dakota into her father's arms.

After a long hug, he eased her away. “Boy, Sugar Bear, am I glad to see you.”

She grinned. “I'm glad to see you too. Even if you do look like a run-over porcupine.”

He grimaced and ran one hand over his face. It was red from the cold and covered with thick, black stubble. “Haven't shaved in awhile.”

He looked over her shoulder, shielding his eyes to study the area above the ravine. “Where are the others?”

There was nothing to do but tell him the truth. And if she lived to be a hundred, she never again wanted to see that look in his eyes.

His reddened skin turned pale as he backed away and slumped against a boulder. “I don't believe this. Wakara Sheridan, whatever possessed you to pull such a stunt?”

A loud groan made the skin on the back of Kara's neck tingle and broke off any further attempt at explanation.

“Where's Greg?”

“In there.” Dad nodded toward the entrance to a small cave nestled back in among the rocks. “His horse went over the edge. Greg must have hit his head. When I got to him, he was unconscious, and the horse was gone.”

He hurried into the cave. Wakara followed, stepping around the windbreak Dad had built out of snow blocks.

Greg lay on a bed of cedar boughs, wrapped in the saddle blanket Anne had given him for his birthday.

Kara knelt beside him. “Greg?” He moaned again but didn't open his eyes.

“He's been like that for three days. All I could do was keep him warm, get some water down him, and pray. There was no way I could leave him to get help, even when the weather cooperated. That's why I was hoping . . .”

She winced. “I know. You were hoping I had brought the Search-and-Rescue team.” She hated the look of desperation on his face. His eyes were red-rimmed, his mouth white, and his shoulders slumped with exhaustion.

He nodded, then sat down close to Greg. With his back to the wall of the cave, he closed his eyes.

Kara studied the interior of the cave. It made a great shelter, and with the fire protected on all four sides by rock and snow, it was actually warm. She rummaged through their provisions, found an instant coffee bag, and poured water from the pot by the fire into two tin cups.

“Thanks, Sugar Bear. Sorry I can't offer you a hamburger. I'm afraid provisions are running pretty low.”