A Bride for the Mountain Man Read online

  Neither lasted long. Seemingly out of nowhere, the narrow, uphill road curved sharply to the right and Meredith, in an instinctive attempt to correct her direction, yanked the steering wheel too hard. The car whiplashed to the side before settling into a spin and, now facing the opposite direction, picked up speed and careened downhill.

  Gripping the steering wheel even tighter, she worked to keep the car on the road while pumping on the brakes. She couldn’t regain control. She closed her eyes, tensed her body and readied herself for whatever came next. Damn it! This should not be happening. She should be with Rachel, sipping wine and trying to let go of the past while deciding on a new and improved future. She was not supposed to be lost, scared and...

  The impact came hard and swift, jarring her body and ending her inner tirade.

  In sync with the crash, a loud noise, almost like a gunshot, rang in Meredith’s ears as the airbag deployed and slammed against her chest. An acrid smell, strong and pungent, consumed the interior of the car, along with a powdery dust that coated her face and hair. She might have screamed, if she’d been able to breathe.

  Keeping her eyes closed for a minute and then another, she waited for her lungs to kick into gear and her shivers to fade, for her heart to regain its normal rhythm and her stomach to stop sloshing. Finally, when her breathing returned and the starkest edge of her fear ebbed, she opened her eyes. She clenched and unclenched her hands, wiggled her toes and moved her legs.

  Okay. Good. All seemed in working order. She hadn’t died yet.

  * * *

  Where had those dogs gotten off to? Liam Daly swore under his breath and hollered their names—Max and Maggie—uselessly into the wind tunnel the night had become. They didn’t come running, nor could he hear their boisterous barking. Not good.

  Not good at all.

  It was unusual for them to leave his side in the middle of a storm. Even more unusual for them to do so after he’d been gone for so long.

  He’d just returned home after an extended stay in the Aleutian Islands, where he’d photographed a variety of wildlife, including those that lived on the land, flew in the air and swam in the sea. It was a good trip and as always he was thankful for the work, but Lord, he was happy to be back home in Colorado.

  He’d be happier if his dogs would show themselves. Max and Maggie were Belgian Tervurens, a shepherding breed closely related to Belgian sheepdogs. They were smart, intuitive, active and more often than not, positioned themselves so close to Liam’s legs that he was lucky not to trip over them. They’d done so when they’d first arrived home, after Liam had picked them up from his sister’s place in Steamboat Springs proper. Fiona always looked after Max and Maggie when Liam was away, and they loved her almost as much as they loved him.

  Fiona had asked him to stay in her guest room for the night, to relax and spend some time with her and her foster daughter, Cassie, due to the oncoming storm. He’d thought about it, because he’d missed them both, but the storm could last for days. Frankly, he’d been away long enough, and he knew the mountains like the back of his own hand.

  So, he’d promised his sister and niece—because that was how he thought of Cassie—that he’d visit them soon, and as he’d thought, he didn’t have a lick of trouble on the drive home. He’d even made a quick but necessary stop for groceries and still managed to roll into his driveway a solid thirty minutes before the spitting rain had fully turned to sheets of snow-drenched ice.

  Knowing his sister would worry, he tried to check in using his mobile, but without a signal, that proved fruitless. And his satellite phone—a necessary piece of technology for assignments in certain remote locations—was pretty much useless with all the trees. Fortunately, and surprisingly, the landline still had service. Wouldn’t last much longer, he’d expect, but he was able to reassure Fiona that he’d made it home in one piece.

  The dogs had followed as he’d brought in the groceries, turned on the lights and jacked up the heat. They’d gobbled their kibble lightning fast and had then run in circles outside as he lugged in wood for the fireplace.

  He’d gotten the fire going before heading out to make sure everything was in order with the generator, because before the night was through, he’d likely lose power. All was good. He had plenty of firewood, propane and food to outlast a storm of mega proportions. He could last a couple of weeks without issue. Good thing, too.

  He had that bone-deep intuition that this storm would be one for the history books.

  Trying not to worry about the dogs—they knew this part of the mountains as well as Liam did—he hollered their names again while deciding on his next course of action. Likely, the dogs were fine. Wouldn’t hurt to give them a bit more time to stretch their legs and find their way home before allowing his concern to rule his judgment.

  He’d unpack his equipment, get everything set straight and orderly, so that he could buckle in and work for the next long while. He had hundreds upon hundreds of digital photographs to sort through, analyze, decide which were gold and which were not, in addition to the many rolls of film he had to develop in his darkroom.

  It was, perhaps, one of Liam’s favorite aspects of his job: the meticulous process of bringing a captured image to life. Oh, he wasn’t opposed to technology. Hell, he friggin’ loved what technology could do and had done for his profession, both in the practical and artistic sense.

  He was, however, a stalwart follower in the church of film photography. He would never want to give up either for the other, but if forced to choose...well, he’d say goodbye to technology and every one of his digital cameras, even his newest Canon, in a nanosecond.

  And yeah, he’d be sorry to see them go, but everything about film photography—from the cameras themselves, to how they worked and how to coax the best possible shot out of them, to the art of developing the prints—was what had drawn Liam to this profession to begin with. His want for solitude and exploration drove him toward the obvious niche: nature and wildlife.

  Well, also that he tended to understand animals far easier than people. Typically, he liked them better, too. And he would always choose just about any remote location over a city. Cities had too many people, and people liked to talk. Something Liam wasn’t all that fond of.

  His sister teased him, liked to say that Liam was allergic to other human beings outside of their family network. In a way, he supposed there was some truth to that statement, but his “allergy” was by choice. He was just a guy who did better on his own and had long ago recognized that fact. Other than Fiona and a few friends who didn’t annoy him every time they opened their mouths, he had Max and Maggie. Along with his job, that was all he needed.

  Calling out their names once again, he waited to see if they’d show. When they didn’t, Liam shoved his worry to the back burner and returned to his cabin.

  He’d built it close to five years ago now, on a secluded plot of land that was situated on an equally secluded area of the mountain. He didn’t have neighbors. He had trees and streams, wildlife and tons of privacy.

  Just as he liked it.

  Inside, he shrugged off his coat and boots. If the two shepherds weren’t back by the time he was done unpacking his gear, he’d put on his layers of arctic wear and try to track them down. Difficult, maybe impossible, with the current state of the weather, but he would have to try. He wouldn’t be able to relax, otherwise.

  Making quick work of the job, Liam hauled the equipment to his office at the back of the cabin, taking care to unpack and organize in his standard methodical fashion.

  His rolls of exposed film were in airtight, labeled canisters, which he stacked in the refrigerator he kept in this room for just that purpose. A set of customized shelves sat against the back wall that held moisture-proof containers for his various cameras, along with those meant for other necessary items, such as lenses, straps and memory cards. The lo
ngest wall of the room held his desk, computers, monitors and an array of additional storage. Everything had a place.

  Liam’s darkroom was attached to the office, but for the moment, he left that door closed. No reason to go in there until he was ready to begin developing his film, which wouldn’t be for another day or two.

  With everything more or less put away, he took the stairs two at a time to his bedroom—the only room on the second floor—where he put on the layers of clothing and outerwear appropriate for the howling storm, which was turning into one hell of a blizzard.

  Yeah, he had to go after his dogs.

  Downstairs, he grabbed a flashlight before opening the front door. Then, having second thoughts, closed it against the torrential slam of wind and snow.

  Max and Maggie’s favorite roaming grounds were in the dense cluster of trees directly behind the cabin. They’d go round and round, sniffing out squirrels or rabbits, roughhousing with each other and in warmer temperatures, cooling themselves off in the stream that twisted through the trees. He’d go that route first and hope he could outlast the storm long enough to find them and bring them home.

  Exiting through the back door, Liam did his best to ignore the worry gnawing at his gut. This just wasn’t like them. Unless one of them had gotten hurt somehow, maybe a soft spot in the icy stream held one of them captive or...no. He wouldn’t assume worst-case scenario.

  They were smart, agile dogs. Excitable and full of energy. Probably, they were happy to be home and, in their canine glee, were ignoring the cold and snow in favor of a frozen romp. Sounded good. Plausible even, to anyone who didn’t know Max and Maggie. Problem was, Liam did know them, and that sort of behavior in this type of weather didn’t ring true.

  He’d find them. He had to. They were as much his family as Fiona and Cassie.

  Chapter Two

  Within minutes of slamming into a cluster of trees, Meredith realized she no longer heard the comforting hum of the car’s engine or felt the warm flow of heat blowing from the vents. She almost turned the key in the ignition to see if the engine would fire again, but had second thoughts. Better to first check out her surroundings and the car’s condition.

  Shoving the now-deflated airbag off of her body, she unclasped her seat belt, opened the driver’s side door and stumbled to her feet. Wind-propelled snow slapped at her face, stinging her skin and making her eyes water. The early evening hung in complete darkness, without so much as a single star shining through to offer even the slimmest ray of light.

  In her entire life, she had never felt so alone or unprepared.

  She walked the perimeter of where she crashed. Since she couldn’t see more than a foot in front of her, she sniffed the air for signs of a fuel leak. Fortunately, if she could trust her nose, she didn’t smell any gas fumes. Assuming the car would start, would she be able to get it back on the road? Maybe. She’d have to be lucky, though. The path out would need to be fairly straightforward, and the car would have to power through the snowy, icy uphill terrain in reverse.

  The wall of never-ending wind almost knocked her over, and she had to brace herself to keep standing, had to force her frozen legs to slog through the snow. Again, she was stunned by the saturating, painful depth of the cold. She swore her bones were shivering.

  Reaching the back of the car, Meredith tried to gauge how far off the road she’d gone. She couldn’t tell, not from where she stood. But with so many trees, she couldn’t be too far in. Probably, in the light of day, with or without a storm, she’d be able to see the road from here. As it was, however, attempting to blindly maneuver the car seemed a very bad idea.

  Okay, then. Her best course of action was huddling in the Accord for the night. So long as the engine would start, she’d have heat. She had plenty of dry clothes in her suitcase. Oh! She even had a bottle of water and a roll of butter rum–flavored Life Savers. Not the most enjoyable way to spend a night, but it could be worse. A lot worse.

  She would be fine.

  As she fought her way toward the driver’s side door, she suddenly recalled hearing of a woman who—a year or two ago—had died from carbon monoxide poisoning while waiting out a storm in her car. The tailpipes had become clogged with snow, cutting off oxygen. That poor woman had likely also thought she would be safe and sound in the shelter of her car.

  Great. Yet another way that Meredith could die tonight.

  She retreated again to check the tailpipes. For the moment, the snow wasn’t quite high enough to reach them, thank God. Though, at this rate, with the direction the wind was blowing, it wouldn’t take too much longer. Then what? She’d have to keep checking.

  Satisfied that she’d be safe for the next little while, at least, she finally pushed her frozen, wet and shivering body into the driver’s seat. The dry, still somewhat warm interior, even without blowing heat, immediately offered a blessed reprieve. But she’d feel much better with running heat. So, inhaling a large, hopeful breath, she twisted the key in the ignition.

  The engine did not rumble to life. Heck, it didn’t even squawk. Or whimper. It did nothing. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed as fervently as she knew how and tried again. Nope. Still nothing. Tears of frustration and fear filled her eyes, but she ignored them.

  The good news, she supposed, was that she could cross off carbon monoxide poisoning from tonight’s worry list. But the possibility of freezing to death moved up to number one.

  Grabbing her iPhone, Meredith pressed the Home button, hoping that between the crash and now, a miracle had somehow occurred and she’d have a signal. And...no to that, as well. She bit her lip hard to stop the fear from taking complete control and leaving her useless.

  “Talk through this,” she said, finding comfort in the sound of her voice. “What are the options?” There weren’t many, so they were easy to count off. “I can stay here, inside the car, out of the storm. Or I can leave and try to find whatever shelter is attached to that light.”

  Remaining in the car, shielded from the elements, felt the safer of the two options. She would even bet that was the recommended advice for such a situation. But she didn’t fool herself into thinking another motorist would fatefully come along the exact same path, realize she’d crashed, find her and rescue her or that Rachel would send out help—which, okay, she probably already had, but they wouldn’t begin to know where to look—or even that she could make it until morning if she hung tight. The hours between now and then seemed endless.

  If the storm continued with this force, she could be stuck here for longer than overnight. It could be days. Her car could become buried, the brutal winds could cause a tree to fall, shattering her windshield or trapping her inside.

  Or worse.

  Beyond all those horrific possibilities, the idea of sitting here, merely waiting for the storm to pass and hoping that nothing dire would occur, did not resonate well. It left too much to chance. It took too much out of her control.

  Of course, on the other hand, she really did not relish the thought of going back outside.

  Leaving the security of the car, no matter how temporary, required her to fight through the storm, that awful cold, the wind and the mounting snow, with the hope of locating a true shelter. She could fall and hit her head or twist an ankle or become even more lost. Even if she escaped those disasters, she would have to be strong enough to keep moving for however long it took to get somewhere safe. Could she do it? Was she that strong?

  With a firmness that surprised her, she came to a decision. Her gut insisted that staying in the car would prove to be a mistake, and really, what else could she trust in but her instincts?

  She’d find that light, which had to be connected to a house. And it couldn’t be too far away for the glow, as faint as it was, to have made it through the thick, blinding haze of snow.

  If she was wrong...no, she wasn’t wrong
. She couldn’t be wrong.

  In a flurry of adrenaline, Meredith climbed into the back seat and opened her suitcase. She needed dry clothes, layered, something to cover her face, ears and hands. She needed her hiking boots, which would offer a good deal more protection than her perfect-for-traveling, oh-so-cute clogs. And her coat, naturally. On the plus side, she had not packed light.

  Sloughing off her wet jeans and sweater—quite the arduous process in the small constraints of the back seat—she put on a pair of leggings she’d planned on sleeping in, followed by one pair of jeans and then another. Over her head, she pulled on a T-shirt, a turtleneck sweater and finally, a long, roomy, extra-thick sweatshirt. Wet socks were replaced with two pairs of warm, dry socks, over which went her hiking boots. Along with her coat, she grabbed another turtleneck, a button-down flannel shirt and two additional pairs of socks.

  Before leaving the car, she wrapped the turtleneck around her head and tied the sleeves under her chin. The flannel shirt, she folded and used as a scarf. She hung her purse diagonally over her neck and shoulder, slipped her hands into both pairs of socks and then on top of it all went her coat, which was a struggle of mega proportions to zip.

  When all was said and done, she was hot, bulky and uncomfortable, but she thought she’d done a fairly decent job in protecting herself from the elements. Fingers crossed, anyway. As ready as she was going to get, she closed her eyes and breathed. Deeply.

  “I will not die out there,” she whispered. Opening her eyes, she stepped once again into the icy maelstrom. “I will be strong. I will find the light, which will be attached to a warm and occupied house, and someday in the future this entire night will be nothing more than an awful, distant memory. A story I will tell over drinks.”

  Right. A story and not the end of her life.