Soul Deep (2 page)

Snow from a Colorado Department of
Transportation snowplow.

Thanks a lot, CDOT.

Chilled to the bone, she shook off the snow,
climbed to her feet, and tried again, this time setting her cane
aside and attempting to crawl up the slope, dragging her left leg
behind her. But the snow was too deep, and she was soon out of
breath and badly chilled.

If she didn’t stop, she’d soon be
hypothermic.

By the time she was back in the car, she was
exhausted, freezing, and in pain. She would have to wait here until
the storm let up. When the snow stopped, she would wave out the
window at passing drivers. Someone would see her and call for help.
In the meantime, she had a space blanket, water, ibuprofen, her
Kindle, and chocolate covered almonds. It wasn’t the Forest Creek
Inn, but it would have to do.

# # #

Jack West tossed the last hay bale into the
bed of his Ford F-250 pickup, the cold biting his nose, the air
fresh with the scent of new snow. A good four feet had fallen
overnight, and the National Weather Service was saying the
mountains could expect more this afternoon. He needed to get hay up
to the herd in the high pasture before the flakes began to fly
again.

He’d been working since before dawn, plowing
the road to the ranch’s front gate and then seeing to the horses.
His son, Nate, normally took care of these things, but he’d stayed
at the family townhome in Denver, not wanting to drive up the
canyon with Megan, his wife, and Emily, their six-year-old
daughter, in the middle of a blizzard. Jack supported that
decision. He didn’t like taking chances with the lives of those he
loved.

Chuck, the ranch’s foreman, stepped out of
the barn. “Want me to come along?”

Jack frowned. “Is that your way of saying you
think I’m too old for this shit?”

“You kidding, boss?” Chuck laughed. “You’re
in better shape than most of the younger guys.”

“If that’s true, I ought to fire the lot of
you.” Jack grinned, opened the cab door, and climbed into the
driver’s seat. “Did you take care of that business with Kip? I
don’t think ill of him, but I don’t want him having the keys to the
bunkhouse now that he’s no longer working here.”

Jack had found himself with no choice but to
fire the man. Kip Henderson was a great cattleman, skilled with
steers and horses, but he was also a slave to the bottle.

“I took care of it yesterday when Luke and I
went into Denver to pick up supplies. His key is on my desk.”

Jack shut the door, buckled the seatbelt. “I
appreciate that.”

Chuck stepped back to give the truck room.
“See you when you get back.”

Jack turned the key in the ignition, the
385-horsepower engine roaring to life. He headed down the road
toward the main gate, his gaze traveling over the valley. Apart
from his time in the army, he’d lived his entire life here, the
third generation to call this mountain valley home. His family had
done well, running black Angus and breeding quarter horses,
managing to hang on through thick and thin to a way of life that
had largely vanished from the state.

Jack turned up the truck’s heater. The
Cimarron had been transformed overnight into a landscape of frozen
white, ribbons of golden aspen, dark patches of evergreens, and
crags of red rock adding color to the mountainsides. The beauty of
it was enough to take a man’s breath away. Then the sun peered
through the clouds on the eastern horizon, sending a shaft of pink
light across the snow, making it sparkle.

Theresa, you would love this.

Whether Theresa could hear his thoughts, Jack
couldn’t say, but after almost forty years of being married to her,
it was hard to experience life and not want to share it with her.
She’d died seven years ago of a brain aneurysm, and Jack had never
stopped missing her. One moment she’d been inside making lunch, and
the next she’d been gone. He’d found her lying on the kitchen
floor, and his world had come crashing down.

Still, life went on, and Jack had had no
choice but to go on with it. When Nate had been wounded in
Afghanistan, badly burned in an IED explosion, Jack had devoted
himself to helping his son heal and regain his strength. Now Nate
was happily married, his wife Megan and their little Emily bringing
joy back into the house.

And if there were days—and nights
especially—when Jack felt lonely, well, that was just the price he
paid for the privilege of having lived so damned long.

Nate had given him his blessing to remarry
and wanted him to join some online dating service, but Jack
couldn’t see how any good could come of that. Not that he didn’t
have anything to offer a woman. There was the ranch, of course, and
he had money. And, unlike a lot of men his age, he was physically
fit and didn’t need a pill to get an erection. But he hadn’t dated
in forty years and wasn’t sure he’d even know what to say to a
woman.

Hell, no, that wasn’t for him. He’d been
married once and knew what it was to love a woman and be loved in
return. He and Theresa had made a good life together, and they’d
had a son. Now, she was gone, and Jack’s job, as he saw it, was to
be there for their son and his family and to pass on the Cimarron
intact.

He reached the main gate, which he had
already opened, and turned onto the highway. The road was slick and
snow-packed—not surprising given how much accumulation they’d
gotten. It was unusual for the state to get a blizzard this early
in the fall, but this was Colorado. He’d seen it snow up here on
the Fourth of July.

He was about a mile east of the turnoff to
the high pasture when he saw a fencepost out of alignment with the
others. It took a moment before he realized why the post had been
knocked to the side. A car had slid off the road, down the
embankment, and struck the fence. The car itself was all but buried
in a big snowdrift, just a bit of tail light and rear bumper
showing. CDOT plows must have buried it during the night,
concealing it under a few feet of snow and slush.

Someone was going to have a fun time digging
that out.

He drove to the access road and turned off
the highway, stopping to lower the snowplow. It was slow going the
rest of the way as he cleared the road. By the time he reached the
pasture, the cattle were waiting for him.

He parked the truck, got out, and climbed
into the bed, cutting the cords that bound the bales and tossing
hay over the fence to the hungry animals, mostly pregnant cows.
They jostled against one another, lowing, their breath sending up
clouds of condensation.

“Mind your manners, ladies. Someone might
think you were raised in a barn.”

When he’d spread the hay out over the snow,
he got back into his truck and headed home, his mind on a hot
shower and strong coffee.

Bitch and moan though he might, he loved this
life. Other people were out there right now fighting traffic on the
highway so they could sit in offices all day doing bullshit work
for other people, and he was out here, breathing mountain air,
being his own boss, and doing the kind of work that left a man’s
body tired but his soul fulfilled.

Back on the highway, he made a mental note to
repair that fencepost once the owner of the car had their vehicle
towed. As he passed the car, he saw that the headlights were
flashing. Was someone down there?

He pulled off onto the shoulder, parked, then
called Chuck on his sat phone. “Hey, I’m on my way back. There’s a
car off the road just past mile marker one-thirty-three. I think
someone’s still in the vehicle. I’m going to check it out.”

He turned on the truck’s hazard lights and
pocketed his keys, then climbed out of the pickup. Why anyone had
gone out in yesterday’s blizzard without all-wheel drive was beyond
him. Didn’t they realize they were in Colorado?

He grabbed a snow shovel out of the back,
then crossed the road, snow squeaking under his boots. The slope
was steep, and he slipped and slid his way down to the vehicle. A
few minutes of shoveling, and he’d managed to unbury the driver’s
side window.

Through the frost-covered glass, he could
just make out a woman’s face.

She rolled down the window. “Jack West?”

He found himself looking into a pair of
familiar green eyes. Her dark hair was longer than the last time
he’d seen her, and there were lines of weariness on her face.
Still, he recognized her immediately.

“Well, hello, there, SA Killeen. It seems
you’ve run into a little trouble.”

CHAPTER TWO

Janet stared up at him, unable to believe her
bad luck. She’d only met him once, but she’d recognize him
anywhere—those dark blue eyes, that square jaw, the thick
salt-and-pepper hair, the dark brows, the rugged cheekbones.

Of all the fences along all the highways in
the entire state of Colorado, she just
had
to crash into
his.

Sluggish from cold and lack of sleep, she
found herself explaining. “I … I slid off the road yesterday
morning. The truck in front of me swerved, and the next thing I
knew ... Sorry about the fencepost.”

She expected him to say something cutting or
to make fun of drivers who didn’t know how to handle the roads in
snow, but he didn’t.

“You’ve been down here since yesterday
morning?”

“I tried to call for a tow, but ... ”

He shook his head. “Your cell phone won’t do
you a damned bit of good here. Let’s get you to my truck. Your car
isn’t going anywhere, I’m afraid.”

She pushed aside the space blanket she’d
wrapped herself in and reached for her cane, a wave of humiliation
washing over her to think of him seeing her like this. “I … I can’t
make it up the embankment. I tried.”

She’d tried several times, but it was just
too much for her left leg.

His gaze dropped to her cane, but he showed
no surprise. He must have heard she’d been shot. “We’ll figure it
out. Can you stand?”

“Yes.”

He opened the door and lifted it out of her
way with one arm.

She turned in her seat so that both of her
feet were out of the car, then slowly stood, her hip and pelvis
screaming after yesterday’s exertions and so many hours of
immobility. She couldn’t help the catch in her breath or keep
herself from wincing.

“Easy does it. It’s deep and slick out here.”
He caught her arm at the elbow.

The contact sent a strange awareness arcing
through her, and she jerked her arm away so abruptly that she
surprised even herself. She tried to think up an excuse. “I … I
need to grab my things.”

“I’ll come back for them. Let’s just get you
to the truck. I’m concerned that you might be hypothermic.”

She couldn’t argue with that. She’d been
forced to turn off her engine and her heater with it when she’d
realized that snow was blocking the tailpipe and she’d risk carbon
monoxide poisoning if she left it running. The night had been
bitter cold. “Okay.”

He turned toward the embankment, put himself
on her left side. “Why don’t you wrap your arm around my shoulder?
Let’s try doing this three-legged-race style.”

Cane in her right hand, she did as he’d
suggested, then drew back, contact sending that same uncomfortable
awareness through her. “Can’t you just throw down a rope and pull
me up?”

“You want me to winch you up like a cow?” The
expression on his face told her that was
not
going to
happen. “Come on. I won’t bite. I promise.”

“You did last time.”

“Last time, you were playing federal agent on
my land. This time, you’re a stranded friend in need of my
help.”

That was news. “When did we become
friends?”

He glared down at her. “If you want me to
leave you here—”

“No! Please. Thank you.” She put her arm
around his shoulder.

He caught her around the waist. “Step off on
your right foot.”

She took a step, felt herself begin to
slide.

Strong arms steadied her, kept her from
slipping. “Don’t put weight on your left leg. Let me do the work on
this side.”

She hopped, his arms holding her fast, his
boots gripping the snow, the embankment so steep that if she had
leaned out, she would almost have been able to touch it.

Hop. Hop. Hop.

Slowly, they moved upward. She didn’t know if
it was exhaustion or the cold or the altitude, but it was hard
work, her left foot dragging in the snow.

Hop. Hop. Hop.

“That’s it. We’re almost there.”

“I have to stop.” Janet had been a track
champion in high school and college. She wasn’t used to feeling so
weak—or needing anyone’s help.

He wasn’t breathing hard at all. “There’s no
rush. My truck won’t go anywhere without us.”

She fought to catch her breath, her heartbeat
slowly returning to normal, the icy air burning her lungs. She
found herself leaning against him and jerked herself upright. “I’m
good to go.”

Hop. Hop. Hop.

Up they climbed, Jack somehow managing to
keep the two of them from slipping, his body moving with the
confidence and agility of a man who’d lived his entire life in the
outdoors.

The low growl of a diesel engine and the
scrape of a plow on the road announced the approach of another CDOT
plow.

“Oh, great.” Janet had heard that sound many
times during the night, each pass resulting in another wave of snow
that had buried her deeper. “Get ready.”

“Shit.” In a single move, Jack pivoted to
stand in front of her, turned his back to the road, and drew her
against him, using his body to shield her from the brunt of the
snow and slush that rained down on them. “Damned idiots.”