Текст книги "A Highlander Christmas"

Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter Nineteen

Despite the ineffectual sun hanging low in the southern sky, Luke was a ball of sweat not two hours into their trek. Breathing heavily from the incline that traveled along the ridge rising sharply to their left, he stopped in the middle of the tote road, shrugged off the rope, and flexed his shoulders. He pulled his GPS out of his pocket, punched some buttons, and realized they were only a couple of miles from the turnoff to Pine Creek, which still left another twenty-three miles after that.

“Okay, everyone walks for a while,” he said, tucking the GPS back in his pocket, then putting his gloves back on. “Except Tigger, I suppose.”

Camry had just set Tigger forward between her legs to stand up when a low rumbling whispered through the air. “What’s that?” she asked, glancing around.

Luke looked up, adrenaline spiking through him when he saw the sheet of snow sliding down the exposed ridge above, heading straight toward them. “Avalanche!” he shouted, immediately snatching up the rope. “Stay in the sled! You won’t be able to run in the deep snow!”

“Max! Come!” she cried, falling back when Luke jerked the sled and ran.

The rumble grew louder, echoing down the steep granite gorge, the snow pushing an icy wave of air ahead of it that sent chills racing up Luke’s spine. He veered toward the stand of trees growing on the edge of the wash, but his snowshoes caught in the jumble of talus from previous rockslides, and he fell to his knees. He gave one last mighty heave on the rope to pull the sled past him, Camry’s scream drowned out by the wall of snow slamming into them.

The rope jerked out of his hands, then tangled on one of his snowshoes as Luke helplessly tumbled in a sea of churning white, all the while fighting not to lose contact with the sled. The noise was deafening, the snow unbelievably heavy as it meted out its endless battering. The lacing on one of his boots snapped, the snowshoe attached to it pulling the boot off his foot. His hand scraped what felt like metal, but just then the rope gave a sharp tug before ripping the other snowshoe off his boot, releasing him to continue his turbulent free fall alone.

And just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended.

Luke slammed against an unmovable object, the air rushing from his lungs in a whoosh. An eerie silence settled around him, his body sheathed in what felt like concrete, every damn cell in his body screaming in agony. The snow had packed around him like a vise, squeezing his lungs and making it nearly impossible to breathe; when he opened his eyes, he literally couldn’t see past his nose.

Camry! Unable even to hear his own scream, Luke frantically wiggled back and forth to free himself. His fingers brushed what felt like bark, and as he slowly increased the cavity around him, his knee connected with the tree that had stopped his fall.

Slowly, painstakingly, he was able to work his arms up beside his head, and he dug the snow out of his ears. He stilled, listening for any sound that might tell him Camry was okay, or at least that Max had made it to safety. But when he heard only the blood pounding through his veins, Luke focused on figuring out which way was up. His guess, based on the fact that the more he wiggled the farther he settled to his left, made him start digging past his right shoulder.

His fist suddenly punched through to open air! He gritted his teeth against the protest of his battered muscles and started jackknifing his body as he pushed at the snow above him. He suddenly heard barking. “Max!” he shouted through the small opening he was creating. “That’s my boy! Come on, Max!”

The opening suddenly closed when a nose drove into it, and a warm tongue shot out and touched his wrist.

“Thatta boy, Max!” Luke said with a laugh. “Come find me, boy. Dig!”

With Max digging down from the top and Luke clawing his way up, he was finally able to break his upper torso free. “Good boy!” he chortled when Max lunged at his chest and started licking his face. He pushed the dog away, pointing beside him. “Keep digging. I’ve got to get free so we can find Camry.”

With Max’s help, Luke was finally able to lever himself up and crawl on top of the snow. He immediately got to his knees and looked around. “Okay, Max. Use that wonderful nose of yours and find Camry. Come on,” he said, scrambling to his feet, again ignoring his screaming muscles and the fact that he had only one boot. He clapped his hands excitedly. “Find Camry, Max!”

The Lab immediately jumped into the hole from which Luke had just emerged, and started whining and sniffing around.

“She’s not in there. Come on, let’s play hide-and-seek. Find Camry!” he repeated, slapping his leg to urge the dog out. “And Tigger. Let’s go find Tigger!”

Luke took several steps onto the uneven tangle of packed snow, his hopes rising when he realized it had been a relatively small slide, only about a hundred feet wide and two hundred yards long. He looked around for anything dark, like a hat or glove or . . . anything. He cupped his hands to his mouth. “Camry!”

He stilled, listening. “Goddammit, Camry, answer me!”

But all he heard was terrifying silence.

“Okay, AuClair,” he growled, stumbling to the center of the small avalanche field. “If you’re my greatest ally, then help me find my miracle!”

Luke was trembling so badly that he had to stop, plant his feet, and rest his hands on his knees in an attempt to calm his racing heart. “Help me,” he whispered, closing his eyes against his burning tears. “Show me where to look.”

He suddenly held his breath, not moving a muscle when he heard a faint chirping sound. Still not breathing, he cocked his head one way and then the other.

There—just to his left: that unmistakable chirp of Podly’s transmitter! The last he remembered seeing it, Camry had tucked it in her jacket pocket in order to read the note Roger had left him.

Could it still be in her pocket?

“Max! Come!” he called, taking several steps to the left and dropping to his knees. He grabbed the excited dog and held him still. “Listen.”

And there it was again, a slightly louder chirp.

“Hear that, boy? Get the toy. Come on, dig up the toy!” he urged, driving his hands into the snow. “Dig, Max!”

They dug a hole at least three feet deep before Max suddenly lifted his head, a tiny wizard’s hat in his mouth.

“Yes, you found Tigger!” Luke cried, digging frantically. If Tigger was here, there was a good chance Camry was with her.

His hand suddenly struck metal. “Camry!” he shouted. “Answer me!”

“Luke,” came a muffled sound, making him still again.

“Camry!”

“Lu—”

He dug harder, working his way along the metal sled in each direction, until he felt the tarp. He pulled off his glove to wiggle his fingers under the canvas, and touched her jacket.

“I’ve got you!” he shouted. He had to shove Max out of the way when the dog tried to drive his nose into the narrow opening. “Keep digging, Max. Right here,” he said, patting the snow toward the front of the sled.

While Max dug, Luke carefully worked more snow away from the tarp until he was able to peel it back enough to see inside. But all he could see was the red of Camry’s jacket. He climbed out of the hole, knelt down on the opposite side, grabbed the edge of the tarp, and pulled with all his strength.

It slowly peeled back, revealing Camry’s folded body wedged into the sled so tightly, he was afraid she couldn’t breathe.

“Max, no!” Luke grabbed Max by the collar when the dog started nosing Camry’s hair, dragged the Lab up out of the hole, and pushed him away.

Luke then straddled the hole, bracing his feet on either side of the sled. “Camry, sweetheart,” he whispered, slipping off his glove again and carefully threading his trembling fingers through her hair. He felt along her jaw to locate her neck, then held his finger against her weak pulse. “Easy now,” he said when she stirred with a moan.

“Don’t move. We don’t know what’s broken.”

“Tigger,” she said weakly, her voice muffled because her face was pressed into her knees, facing down.

“To hell with Tigger,” he growled. “I need to know where you’re hurt. Can you feel your body, Camry? Your legs? Your arms?”

“T-take Tig . . .” she whispered. “C-can’t breathe.”

Luke felt along her body, carefully wedging his fingers between her arm and torso, and finally realized that she was wrapped around the dachshund so tightly, there was no room for her lungs to expand. He pressed deeper until he felt Tigger’s sweater, then grasped the wool and slowly pulled. Camry moaned again as the limp body of the dog slowly emerged. As soon as he was able to get both hands around Tigger, Luke applied more pressure while carefully wiggling the dog back and forth, then finally pulled the dachshund free and set her on the snow above the hole.

He immediately looked down at Camry and saw her stir again, her torso expanding on a shuddering breath. “Okay, sweetheart, your turn.” He clasped the shoulder of her jacket, at the same time wrapping his hand around her neck to keep her head still, and leaned close. “If you feel any sharp pain, you let me know, okay? I’m going to pull you out now. Don’t try to help; just relax and let me do all the work.”

He put just enough pressure into his pull to gauge how stuck she was, then stilled, watching for signs of distress. He pulled a bit harder, felt her sliding free, then lifted her just a bit more before he stopped again. He then slid his arm under her head for support and repositioned his hand on her jacket. Using his own body like a backboard, he slowly straightened as she unfolded out of the sled, until he was leaning back against the side of the hole with her in front of him.

“Can you feel your legs and arms?” he whispered into her ear, which was now even with his head.

“Right leg h-hurts.”

Luke was so relieved he kissed her hair. “That’s good. You’d have really scared me if you said you couldn’t feel anything. Okay,” he said, taking a steadying breath to calm his trembling. “I’ll straighten my knees so that I’m standing, then reach under your legs and lift you into my arms. There’s a chance your right leg is broken, but I’ve got to lift you up and lay you on the snow.” He kissed her hair again. “Ready?”

She made a small sound, and her head, which he was still supporting, nodded ever so slightly. He reached down and cupped her legs—gritting his teeth against her gasp of pain—and lifted her to his chest. “Easy, now. The worst is over,” he said softly, brushing his lips against her cold, tear-dampened cheek.

Careful not to fall into the sled, he slowly turned around, raised her up, and gently set her beside the hole. He slid his arms out from under her, making sure her body was completely supported by the snow.

“Tigger,” she whispered, sucking in deep breaths.

“You first,” he hissed, having to shove Max away when the whining dog started licking her face.

“Not breathing,” Camry said, weakly giving Luke a push. “Please . . . help Tig.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the dachshund’s limp body. Dammit! “I think . . . I’m sorry, I think she’s dead,” he said, turning back to carefully unzip Camry’s ski pants leg.

“P-please, Luke,” she sobbed.

He spun around with a muttered curse, stepped across the hole, and leaned down to put his ear against Tigger’s side. He thought he heard a faint heartbeat, and moved his face to her snout, trying to find signs of breathing.

“Help her,” Camry whispered.

Luke slid two fingers under Tigger’s sweater, over her ribs, then used his other hand to lift the dachshund’s nose so he could close his mouth over it. He gently blew, feeling the dog’s chest rise, then blew several more times. Tigger suddenly stirred, giving a weak whimper, and Luke picked up the dog.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered, turning to show Camry. “Thatta girl. Keep breathing.” He set Tigger on the snow in the crook of her arm, then took her hand to stop her from trying to pull the dog onto her chest. “Don’t try to pick her up. Just let her lie beside you. She’s breathing. Just keep her tucked against you.”

He brushed back Camry’s hair and leaned closer. “Anything else hurt besides your right leg? Your ribs? Your back?” he asked, unzipping her jacket. He stopped and blew on his hands to warm his freezing fingers, then slowly pulled her sweater up and worked the hem of her turtleneck out of her pants so he could feel her belly. “Focus on yourself,Camry,” he growled when he glanced up to find her straining to see Tigger. He touched her chin to make her look at him, then forced a smile to soften his demand. “I’m worried about internal bleeding. Do you remember anything jabbing you as you tumbled? Or did your head hit anything?” he asked, studying her pupils, which, thank God, appeared even.

“I-I’m okay. B-but my foot is throbbing.”

He forced his smile wider, brushing his shaking hand over her forehead again. “You picked a hell of a way to get out of your turn to pull the sled.”

Her gaze roamed his face, and she touched his cheek. “You’re bleeding.”

He also touched his cheek, then smiled at her again. “I’ve known you what . . . two weeks? And I’ve been beaten up twice. You should come with a warning label.”

“I’m sorry.”

He kissed her trembling lips. “I’m not,” he whispered. He straightened, then turned toward her legs. “Okay. Time to assess the damage.”

Max suddenly came bounding over, dragging one of the snowshoes. “Good boy, Max!” Luke said, quickly grabbing it when the dog nearly swung the three-foot-long snowshoe into Camry. “You found my boot! Go on,” he said. “Find more stuff, Max.”

Tigger whined and started squirming. Luke caught the dachshund just as she started slipping into the hole he was standing in. “Looks like you’re recovering okay,” he said, setting the dog on her feet and holding her steady. He let her go as soon as he saw her tail wag, then shot Camry a glare. “You tell anyone I gave mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to a dog, and I’m going to post the cell phone picture I took of you in your wench’s costume on the Web.”

Before she could answer him, he moved back to finish unzipping the right leg of her ski pants. “I don’t see any bones sticking out,” he said with false joy—because he sure as hell saw that her foot was twisted at an unnatural angle.

He pulled out his multitool and opened the blade, then bobbed his eyebrows at her. “I’ve always fantasized about playing doctor on a beautiful woman.” He looked back down at her leg. “I need to slit your inner pants and long johns from the knee down, to see what’s happening in there.” He bobbed his eyebrows again. “Assuming I can see anything, since you haven’t shaved your legs in what . . . days?”

“Just doit,” she growled, stiffening. “And tell me if it’s broken or just sprained.”

Oh, he knew it was broken, all right; he just didn’t know how badly. He pulled her wool pants and long johns away from her leg and slit them open with his knife, exposing angry red skin swelling up from under her wool sock.

“Yup, it’s broken,” he muttered, carefully cutting the sock down to her boot. He stilled when she sucked in a hiss, and looked at her. “I can’t tell if it’s your lower leg or your ankle. I have to take off your boot, Camry. I’ll do it as gently as I can.”

“Leave it on.”

“No. Your foot’s swelling, and it’s only going to get worse.”

She closed her eyes. “Then do it.”

Luke carefully sliced her laces, then set down the knife in order to peel open her boot, wincing when she hissed again. “Easy now,” he crooned, lifting back the tongue of her boot. He slid one hand under her ankle, then grabbed the heel of the boot and slowly pulled.

“No, stop!”

He stilled, turning to see her take several gulping breaths before she gritted her teeth. “Okay. Do it.”

He held his own breath as he started pulling again, working as quickly as he could so he wouldn’t prolong her agony while being careful he didn’t do any more damage. The boot finally slipped free, taking her sock with it, and Luke closed his eyes. “I think your ankle is shattered,” he whispered. He looked over at her. “No blood, though. So I’ll just immobilize it as best I can. Then I’m digging out the sled, and we’ll get you to a hospital lickety-split. Where’s the closest house to here?”

She thought for a moment. “If we go down the tote road about ten miles, then cut across the bay, I think there are some year-round homes out on the point.”

Luke’s gut tightened. “Do you think the bay is frozen solid?”

“I-it should be.”

He glanced down at her ankle then back at her, and shook his head. “It’s not a life-threatening injury, Camry, as long as you don’t go into shock. So I’d rather not risk our drowning to save some miles. How far to your sister’s house? Doesn’t she live on this side of the bay?”

“Maybe eighteen or twenty miles from here.”

Luke gently laid her foot on the open leg of her ski pants and turned in the hole he’d been standing in the whole time. “If I can find the other snowshoe, I can get us there by midnight.” He got down on his knees and started rummaging around in the sled. He pulled out the sleeping bag and straw mattress, but didn’t see the rest of their gear. “The gear must have broken free,” he said, straightening with the sleeping bag, which he unrolled and laid over her. “I’ll try to find it. I’d like to at least have the headlamp for when it gets dark, and the first-aid kit.”

“How did you know where to dig for me?” she asked, helping him tuck the bag around her.

He grabbed the small mattress and tucked the corner of it under her shoulders. But before he lowered her head, he kissed her gently on the lips with a soft chuckle. “That damn transmitter started beeping, and Max and I followed the sound.”

She blinked up at him. “I don’t have the transmitter,” she whispered. “I-I threw it out onto the lake this morning, when I decided to . . . to see things your way,” she said.

“You threw it away? But I heard it. Max heard it, too. It’s how we found you!”

“That’s impossible, Luke.” She reached under the sleeping bag. “I don’t have it anymore.” She suddenly gasped, and her hand reappeared holding the transmitter. “Oh my God,” she whispered, holding it toward him. “H-how is that possible?”

Luke damn near started laughing hysterically when the tiny instrument suddenly gave a lively chirp. He took the transmitter from her and studied it. “This thing keeps turning up like a bad penny.” He looked at her. “It shouldn’t even have its own power source, so what in hell keeps making that noise?”

She turned her head away. “I have no idea.”

He gently turned her face to look at him. “Don’t try to live by my beliefs, Camry, at the expense of your own,” he softly told her. “I was wrong to pretend to go along with you and AuClair instead of telling you I thought it was all an act.” He held the transmitter up for her to see. “But this infernal thing,” he said with a crooked smile, “seems determined to make me believe.” He shoved it in his pocket, kissed her again, then climbed out of the hole.

He freed his boot from the snowshoe Max had found, sat down and put it on, then crawled over and lifted the edge of the sleeping bag off her right foot. “It’s still swelling,” he said, carefully covering her foot again. “I’m going to hunt for our gear before I immobilize it. I’d like to find the first-aid kit, because I tossed what was left of our pain pills in it. Are you comfortable enough?”

“I’m okay. Where’s Tigger?”

“She seems to be fully recovered, and is nosing the snow with Max. I’m giving myself twenty minutes to search, and then we’re out of here, gear or no gear. Just close your eyes and rest. I’m afraid you might be in for a painful afternoon.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could help you.”

He chuckled. “If you want to help, then picture our snowcat magically appearing while I go to work on my own miracle.”

Chapter Twenty

As “seemingly impossible tasks” went, Luke decided this one was a doozy. Getting back to civilization had appeared daunting enough when they’d both been hale and hearty, but getting Camry out of these woods with a broken ankle—without killing her in the process—might very well prove impossible.

Unless . . .

Luke shoved his hand in his pocket and touched the transmitter. How in hell did the damn thing keep turning up just when they needed it? He believed Camry when she said she’d thrown it away this morning—just as he had the other day, when he’d smashed it into that tree and watched it shatter into a hundred pieces. Yet here it was again, and they’d bothheard it chirping just now.

Max had heard it, too. And dogs didn’t know anything about miracles, did they?

Luke walked toward a dark spot in the snow and thought about Maxine’s determination to rescue both Kate and him at the expense of his own life. If the fact was that Maxine had shown up at the pound just hours before they’d taken Kate over to pick out a dog, or that a five-year-old had seen something in the mangy old mutt that none of the adults had, was that the beginning of a miracle, or merely a string of sequential coincidences?

But then, did it matter whatit was, as long as everything had turned out okay?

Well, except for Maxine.

Luke stopped suddenly and stared down at what looked like Roger AuClair’s large pointed hat lying in the snow. Where in hell had that come from? Had it been in the sled all this time, and he just hadn’t noticed? If Camry had found it, she certainly wouldn’t have shown it to him, now, would she? Not after learning what he thought of AuClair’s hocus-pocus.

Which she wholeheartedly embraced.

Maybe the question he should be asking was, If the magic really didrule science, could it be manipulated?

Even by a nonbeliever who was just desperate enough to try?

Luke looked around and saw Max and Tigger digging in the snow several yards away, apparently having discovered something worth salvaging. He looked at Camry and saw her lying quietly, her arm over her face to shield out the sun.

“How are you doing over there?” he called to her.

“I’m fine,” she called back, not moving, “as long as I don’t move.”

Luke dropped his gaze to the hat, took a deep breath, and picked it up.

Something fell out of it. He bent over again, and picked up what appeared to be the card Roger had left for him. He opened it, scanned what Camry had already read to him, then continued from where she’d left off.

If you’re harboring any dark thoughts that I had anything to do with the predicament you’re in, Renoir, then think again. Free will dictates circumstances, not the magic. Life is a fragile gift, and if you can’t embrace it all—the good, the bad, and the ugly—then you might as well stop breathing, since this is an all or nothing thing.

So the answer to your question is yes; just like your numbers, the magic can be manipulated. I was telling it straight the other day, when I told Camry that everyone has the power within them to create.

That is, assuming it’s a creation of the heart.

The only brick walls people run into are of their own making. Take this particular brick wall, for instance, that you are right now trying to figure a way around. If I might be so bold as to suggest . . . why don’t you take your own advice that you gave Camry, and simply go through it? You have the power to do that by merely turning off your analytical brain long enough to hear what your heart is telling you. I believe you’ll find that when you do, what you consider obstacles might actually work to your advantage.

If you need more time, then stop the clock. And if you want to ease Camry’s pain, then find a way. It’s a simple matter of deciding what you need to happen, then acting as if it already has.

Miracles are really more about perception than actual fact. If all you see are obstacles, you’ll be taking two steps back for every step forward; but if you can see the magic in them, you’ll realize those obstacles might be blessings in disguise.

So the choice is yours, Renoir. Your logic can take you only so far, and if you want to get Camry home, you’re going to have to rely on what your heart tells you to do. Just think back thirteen years, Luke, and ask yourself if you haven’t already experienced what it is to create a miracle.

I’m afraid there’s one other decision you’re going to have to make before this is over, however, which will require a true leap of faith. But I’m hoping that by the time you have to make it, it will be a no-brainer—no pun intended, Doctor.

You see, Camry has an aunt who can heal her in a rather . . . well, let’s call it an unconventional way, shall we? Libby MacBain will be at Gù Brath celebrating the solstice with everyone, so you might want to consider heading directly there, rather than wasting precious time trying to get Camry to a hospital and risk her never walking properly again.

“Goddammit, AuClair,” Luke growled, glaring down at the card. “You almost had me up to this point, you old bastard. An aunt who can magically heal her ankle,” he muttered, wiping a hand over his face.

“Did you find the first-aid kit, Luke?” Camry called to him. “One of those pills would be nice right about now.”

Christ, what was he doing, reading some crazy old man’s rantings! He crumpled the card and tossed it in the snow, along with Roger’s stupid hat. “I think Max and Tigger have dug something up,” he called out, running to the dogs. “What have you two found?” he asked, using his anger at himself to sound excited for them.

He edged Tigger out of the way, reached down into the shallow hole, and gave a tug on the material they’d unearthed. “Camry, they found our bag of gear!” He scrambled to his feet. “Okay, guys,” he said, slapping his leg. “Come on. Now let’s go find my other snowshoe!”

He walked over and knelt beside Camry, then picked up the snowshoe Max had found earlier and held it out to the dogs, letting them sniff it. “See this? Find the other snowshoe, and I’ll make you each a whole pot of soup tonight.”

They cocked their heads back and forth, listening to him, then both suddenly shot off in opposite directions. Luke smiled down at Camry. “If they come back with that snowshoe, I’m going to have to stop calling them simple beasts.” He opened the bag and dug through their gear to find the first-aid kit. “Have you figured out yet if you’re hurt anywhere else?” he asked, opening the kit and scanning the contents. He grew alarmed when she didn’t answer. “What else hurts?”

“I think I may have cracked some ribs,” she whispered, her eyes filled with pain. “I can breathe okay, so my lung isn’t punctured or anything. But what if riding in the sled finishes breaking one of my ribs?”

Luke closed his eyes.

She touched his arm. “Maybe you should go for help alone. You can move me to the trees, build a fire, and the dogs can stay with me. You’ll make better time if you don’t have to tow me in the sled. Then Life Flight can fly me out.”

“I’m not leaving you. If something were to happen to me, nobody knows you’re out here.”

“Daddy knows. We stole his groomer, remember?”

“But it might be days before he starts looking for us.” He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you,” he repeated. “We make it out together or we die trying– together.”

He returned to scanning the kit, then pulled out the pills. “These should help,” he said, opening the bottle. He pulled out one of the bottles of water they’d melted this morning, popped a pill in her mouth, then held her head for her to drink. “Okay, I’m going to dig out the sled while we give that pill time to kick in.”

“Luke,” she said, grabbing his sleeve when he started to stand up. “What were you doing a few minutes ago, when you were just standing up there? It looked as if you were reading something.”

“I found AuClair’s card, and was reading from where you’d left off.”

“Anything interesting?” she asked, her eyes searching his.

He stood up. “Not really. Just more philosophical bunk about how I can make a miracle happen just by deciding I want one.” He shrugged. “He even said I have the power to stop time, if I just put my mind to it. No, not my mind,” he muttered, sliding into the hole beside her. He gave a forced smile. “He said I had to turn off my analytical brain, and think with my heart. Close your eyes, Camry,” he said, not wanting to deal with the hopefulness he saw shining in them. “Relax and let that pill work.”

With a muttered curse at the wounded look she gave him before she turned her head and closed her eyes, Luke also turned away and went to work on the sled. It took him about ten minutes to dig it out, and another ten minutes to straighten a bent ski and make it snow worthy again. He’d just finished tying their gear to the back when Tigger came trotting over, the GPS in her mouth. Luke felt in his pocket, realizing it must have fallen out during the avalanche.

“Good girl, Tig!” he said, roughing up the hair on her head. “I take back every bad thing I’ve thought about you. You and your buddy Max are a hell of a lot smarter than many people I know.” He kissed the top of her head. “And I’m going to buy you a whole wardrobe of pretty sweaters.”

Apparently not wanting to be outdone, Max came trotting over dragging the other snowshoe. Luke sat back on his heels. The dogs had actually found everything he needed? He shook his head in disbelief, wondering how they seemed to know how desperate the situation was.

“Okay, you pooches. You’ve definitely earned your soup—as well as a couple of hero medals, which I am personally going to see that you get.”

They suddenly took off again in search of more treasure. Luke turned to show Camry what they’d found, but she was asleep. Lifting the edge of the sleeping bag, he actually winced when he saw how swollen her ankle was.

“Camry, honey,” he said softly, gentling shaking her shoulder. “I need you to be awake while I immobilize your foot, so I know if I’m doing anything wrong.”

Her eyes dark with drugged confusion and pain, she nodded.

Luke moved back down her leg. But just as he lifted the sleeping bag again, the dogs came bounding back, each carrying something. Only instead of bringing their newest finds to him, they brought them to Camry.