Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Brooke

I caught the man before he hit the floor. Unfortunately, I wasn’t in the right position to keep myself balanced and ended up on my butt with him sprawled across my legs. The girl—his daughter I cleverly deduced since she was calling him “Daddy”—kept a tight hold on the wailing baby in her arms while crying herself. She sobbed out constant questions about her dad, asking if he was okay and why he wouldn’t wake up.

I looked at the girl from my position on the floor and felt out of my depth. I wasn’t the gentlest of people, nor was I tactful. I gave those traits up a long time ago.

But I wasn’t so heartless that I wanted to scare a kid. She was obviously already terrified. Based on her clothing, she was well taken care of. Maybe a little skinny for her age, but that might just be a growth spurt. The baby, on the other hand, was pissed. When I’d put him under my coat out in the woods, it had been the first time in years that I’d held an infant. I wasn’t sure if it had felt good or bad, considering the dire circumstances I’d found the small family in.

I was shocked when I’d been driving home from Tommy’s to see a red glow between the multitude of snowflakes. At first, I considered it was a reflection of a knocked down trespassing sign but soon threw that theory out the window. It had definitely been taillights, and they were off the main road. In fact, about thirty more feet and they would have collided with a tree. I didn’t need to see through the snow to know that either—I knew these woods better than I knew myself.

With the car running, I’d assumed correctly that there were occupants inside. I just hadn’t expected there to be kids. I’d assumed the car belonged to a tourist couple who got lost on their way back from the lodge or even trespassers who specifically wanted to journey further up the mountain for their own selfish reasons and got caught in the storm.

To my knowledge, Jack didn’t have any special visitors on the mountain, so my suspicions hadn’t been raised at the sight of the strange vehicle. We were always on high alert whenever there was a guest on our mountain.

Seeing that little girl in the backseat when I’d peeked through the window had been shocking. The dad, though… He had looked, well, haggard . He was clearly exhausted and worried for his children. Rightfully so, too, because this storm wasn’t letting up any time soon.

That’s why I’d been out there. I knew from past winter experience that a storm like this was only going to get worse. I wanted to make sure Tommy had enough supplies to last him the next few days.

We all looked out for Tommy. He looked like the creepy in-law no one wanted at the holiday party but was always invited out of family obligation. In reality, though, he was just a rundown old man who deserved peace and mountain air. He was cranky, but not malicious. I knew he was a veteran but no details beyond that. In his own way, he looked out for each of us up on the mountain. I probably wouldn’t have survived my first winter without him.

When Tommy had broken his hip last summer, his fellow mountain dwellers and I took turns looking in on him. My property is the closest, so I check on him more than the others. Tommy probably wouldn’t call me a neighbor or even a friend. In fact, he calls me a “nosy little girl” most of the time.

But I see the appreciation in his bright green eyes whenever I drop off extra food I’d canned, cured meats, and especially a pie if the berries were in season. Others did the occasional housework and maintenance for him or stocked his wood pile. Tommy would sit in his rocking chair on his porch with a shotgun in his hand, yelling for us to get off his land. But he was all talk, no bite—at least when it came to us. I had never feared for my life when visiting Tommy. In fact, I kind of thought of him like the grumpy grandfather I’d never had.

My snowmobile was still out, as was my emergency supply backpack I’d put in one of the saddlebags so I could carry passengers behind me. I needed to get them put away before they were completely buried. But first, I had to take care of my unexpected houseguests.

A snort escaped me. Hadn’t thought I’d be hosting guests again so soon—and certainly not in the middle of a Montana winter storm.

It was difficult to get myself out from under the man’s dead weight. He wasn’t overweight or very muscular, but a hundred and eighty pounds was still a hundred and eighty pounds. I wasn’t exactly built like a linebacker either.

From the quick glances I’d taken of him once he’d started unbundling his jacket and winter gear, the man was about my height, maybe two or three inches taller than my five-seven frame. It was hard to judge with how hunched over he’d been from the cold. He had sandy brown hair that either was growing out oddly or was in desperate need of a trim. His full beard looked just as unkempt as his tousled brown locks. I hadn’t gotten a look at his eyes, but I imagined green or maybe brown. His daughter was a blonde with blue eyes, like me. I wondered briefly if she’d gotten that from her mother—as well as where that woman was and why she hadn’t been in the car with them. Was she waiting for them back at the resort hotel?

Unfortunately, with this storm, I was not going to get answers to my questions until the man regained consciousness. No SOS message would make it through these winds and ice.

I laid the man gently on my wooden floor, stood, and turned to the crying children. I was not used to noise in my cabin, so this was going to take some patience I wasn’t sure I possessed anymore. I wasn’t what one would call a people-person. At least, not anymore.

I leaned forward to rest my hands on my knees. I hoped in lowering myself to the girl’s eye level, it would make me seem more trustworthy. That was a thing parents did, right?

Doubt crept in but I hoped I kept it out of my voice. “So, um, your dad’s fine.” I hadn’t really had a chance to look at the man; I was mainly trying to reassure the girl. Really hoped I wasn’t lying. “I think he just fell asleep.”

The girl clutched her brother closer to her. He looked big in her arms. I couldn’t guess how old he was, but she was probably six or seven. Her crying paused, and she let out a small sob. “Are we safe here?”

I blinked. Though no longer on the force, my cop instincts rose at the odd question. From one perspective, it probably wasn’t that odd a query, considering the conditions I’d found the family in. They had not been safe in that car in this storm. From another perspective, the one that knew the sort of people who seek refuge on my mountain, it was a necessary question.

Coming from a little girl though? I wasn’t sure. The boat could tip in either direction given their circumstances.

Still, there was only one answer I could give and keep the girl calm. I nodded, “Yes. I’ve lived many winters up here. We’ve got heat, food, and shelter. You’re very safe.” The girl didn’t seem as reassured as I’d hoped by my answer. Maybe she wasn’t a native to this area and this was her first time seeing snow. “So, um, are you hungry?”

She continued to stare at me for a minute, as if she was assessing me. It was kind of unnerving, coming from a girl so young. I briefly worried over what conclusions she came to about me. Finally, she loosened her hold on the baby a little. It was then that I realized how she was angling her body. Her feet and head were facing me but her upper body where she held the baby to her was turned away from me. As if she was putting her body between the baby and a threat. Seeing as I was the only other living soul around for miles, I could only conclude that perceived threat was me.

That also gave me pause. What six-year-old was ready to defend a baby in such a way? Why was it even an instinct to do so?

I glanced down at the dad. Did he hit the kids? I hadn’t gotten that vibe from him. In fact, his reaction from when I took the baby from his arms at the car had given me an overprotective feeling about him. The girl’s reaction to her dad’s fainting was also one of concern and love. While I didn’t tend to trust my instincts when it came to people anymore, I felt confident believing he wasn’t an abusive father.

So who was the threat that the girl was used to protecting her brother from? At least, I assumed he was her brother. I couldn’t see the baby’s face to judge their features for similarities. Bottom line, it didn’t matter.

I didn’t want to step any closer to the girl—she was already on edge—so I squatted down in front of her. “You’re safe, sweetie. My name’s Brooke. ”

She looked a little more relaxed at that and even started to soothe the baby by rocking him. “I’m Lydia.”

I nodded my appreciation of her offering me her name with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Lydia. That’s a very pretty name.” I glanced over my shoulder towards the front door. The dad had brought a backpack with him from their car. “Do you think there’s supplies in that bag for your brother?”

She didn’t correct the title, so I assumed I’d guessed right. With a nod, she said, “Daddy always makes sure he has diapers and food for Henry.”

“Think you could go get it while I try to get your dad settled somewhere more comfortable?” I also wanted to look the man over for injuries but didn’t want to tell the girl that for fear it would upset her again. If I found something, considering the condition and whether I had the supplies to treat it, I would figure out then what to tell her. “I’ll heat up a bottle if he needs it and get us some food when I get back.” I’d been reheating soup on the stovetop when the man had first entered the kitchen, but I’d moved it off the burner and to the side when I’d noticed him starting to sag. Good thing too, or that’d be one more mess I’d have to deal with.

And to think, I’d been anticipating curling up by the fire and reading tonight while waiting out the storm. Silly me for not having seen this coming.

Assignment given, the girl leapt into action. With her attention preoccupied, I did a quick assessment of the father to make sure there were no obvious broken bones or open wounds that would prevent me from moving him. Thankfully, I found none. Deciding the couch was closer, plus nearer to the fireplace, I rounded his shoulders, hooked my arms under his pits, and started to drag him.

Geez, the guy was heavier than he looked. While I was not anti-feminist in any way, nor did I hate my gender or have any designs on switching genders, there were times when the reality of my situation was that my life would be easier if I was built like a man. Despite this being my ninth year living up on my beloved mountain, I was not buff. I worked but didn’t work out. My upper body strength just wasn’t what it would be if I was a man living this lifestyle. Most of the others on the mountain, all others being men by the way, were huge. The work and lifestyle of living a mountain life was not easy. While it kept me fit, I still had a bit of flab that just wouldn’t go away. The men, on the other hand, didn’t have a single ounce of fat between them. Lucky bastards.

So while I had the strength to get the unconscious man across my living room’s wooden floor and eventually was able to boost him up onto the couch, it certainly would have been easier if I had the strength and height to just lift him and place him on the couch.

Satisfied with the man’s position on the couch, I took a deep breath and congratulated myself on a job well done. He hadn’t awoken screaming in pain as I maneuvered his body around, so I was leaning towards exhaustion as his reason for collapsing and not injury. To complete my self-pat on the back, I mentally say the mantra I often use while doing mountain work: a penis was not required to complete this task.

I chuckled silently to myself.

Even though he hadn’t made a sound while I moved him, I knew I needed to give him a more thorough check for injuries.

I glanced towards the kitchen. My open floor plan meant I could see clearly into the kitchen from the living room without having to strain my neck or move. Since I didn’t have a highchair, the girl had the baby sitting in her lap at the table. She was spoon feeding him from a small jar. I didn’t have baby sized spoons so I’m assuming she was using one that they had had in their backpack .

I didn’t have baby clothes or toys either so I really hoped that bag was a Mary Poppins style where it was bigger than it looked.

I looked down at my patient. He really did look exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes. His forehead, cheeks, and nose were red with windburn. He looked gaunt, like he had lost weight quickly and not in a healthy way. I had him lying on his back with a pillow under his head. Thankfully, his boots were already off. He had a long sleeve fleece shirt on with jeans.

That last bit caught and held my attention as I realized for the first time that they weren’t dark colored pants but soaked through blue jeans. Shit. In this weather, jeans were not the appropriate attire. The Mylar blanket would not keep his internal body temperature from dropping if his jeans were frozen and soaked through.

I needed to get those jeans off of him. As far as I could tell, his shirt was dry. Really hoped the guy was wearing underwear or I was about to get any eyeful.

The baby suddenly made a giggling sound, breaking my train of thought. Shit, the kids. I didn’t know what type of family they were, if the dad was comfortable with his young daughter seeing him half-naked. As the only conscious adult in the room, I made the decision because I was not comfortable with it.

I grabbed a thick blanket off the back of my lounge chair. I took the guy’s socks off first. I felt his feet. They were cold but not freezing. That was a good sign. He must have been wearing good winter boots. The outer extremities lost heat faster than internal organs did, but it didn’t mean the guy was out of the woods yet.

I snorted at my pun and quickly got back to work.

I took one more look into the kitchen to make sure Lydia was still occupied. I think she mentioned the baby’s name, but damn if I could remember it. Unbuttoning and unzipping the guy’s jeans, I was relieved to find he was wearing a pair of boxer briefs. Not that I should have been paying attention to such things while the guy was unconscious, but they were black and did nothing to hide the fact that the guy had something to be proud of in his pants.

It was a struggle to get the jeans off with him just lying there unable to help. I checked multiple times on the kids as well as made sure he hadn’t woken up yet. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to wake up so I could get some answers and he could help me get his pants off or if I preferred he stayed out so he didn’t wake up to find a strange woman taking off his pants.

Then again, not sure if guys would freak out about something like that. If the roles were reversed, I certainly would if I woke to find a strange man was taking my pants off, but women had different things to worry about in a situation like that.

I chastised myself for once more going off topic and worked harder to get his jeans off faster. His legs were damp but not overly cold to the touch. Again, this was good. He hadn’t been exposed that long. The snowmobile ride from his car to my cabin had only been about fifteen minutes, but, in these conditions, fifteen minutes could be a very long time.

I covered him with a blanket and then went into my bathroom. It made me realize the girl hadn’t asked to use it. Was she afraid to or maybe didn’t want to leave her brother long enough to use it? I’d inquire when I got back to the kitchen.

I grabbed a bath towel and went back to the couch. I made sure the guy’s legs, arms, pits, hair, and torso were dry. No need for him to get a cold or pneumonia with no medical attention accessible. Mind, I generally didn’t go see one myself. I was in great health with no conditions that needed regular attention. I checked my breasts monthly, got my period regularly, and wasn’t on any medications. During the winter, going into town was doable in an emergency but not something I did or relied on doing. There was no point. I spent my spring, summer, and fall months preparing for the four to five months I’d be stranded on the mountain during the winter. It was only recently that I started prepping extra for Tommy.

I canned my own fruits and vegetables, hunted and cured my own meat, and kept my own garden. I had access to a fresh water source on my land I used during the warmer months and used melted snow for my water source during the winter. I was self-sustaining. It took a lot of learning and many, many mistakes to get to where I am today, but it was all worth it. I got my private, quiet, and peaceful lifestyle. Did I get lonely sometimes? Sure, but it passed. Generally, with a trip to town where I am reminded of how petty and loud people could be.

I didn’t go into Whitefish often. When I did, it was usually for something I wasn’t able to grow, hunt, or make on my own up here. The last time I went was to get extra parts for my hot water heater just in case something happened to it over the winter.

In my previous life, I hadn’t been very mechanical. Hell, I remember joking once that the only thing I knew about cars was which pedal was for the gas and which was the brake. Back then, I never would have imagined that I could or would ever learn every part of my truck, snowmobile, and four-wheeler so I could maintain them myself. While my truck was parked in town due to there being no direct road to my cabin, I rarely needed it or used it. In fact, I think the last time I did use it was going on six months ago when I’d gotten lumber for Dalton to build Tommy a ramp over his stairs while he’d been in his wheelchair following his hip surgery.

My life here was so different than I ever pictured or imagined for myself. But it was also what I needed when my life had gone belly up ten years ago. I never would have chosen this life for myself and yet I also wouldn’t trade it. I needed my cabin; I needed my peace. I worked every day to make sure I had food and shelter. The little money I spent was generally earned back when I brought Jack extra bear, deer, bobcat, and/or coyote jerky. He bagged it and sold it in his store during tourist seasons. I also made soaps from the animal fats and added spices to make different scents to also sell at Jack’s . Occasionally, when I bagged a male deer and his antlers were full-grown, I sold the antlers to my neighbors for them to make their furniture or weapons with. They also hunted, so it wasn’t often that they asked for extra parts I might have.

While I was proficient in gun usage, hunting, tracking, and treating my own meat were new skills I had to learn. I used to look down on hunters, thinking the sport was inhumane. But it only took me one winter up here to realize there was a difference between hunting for food and using all the parts I could rather than hunting for trophies or bragging rights. I would never hang a deer head on my wall, but I would use the hide to make blankets. The bear-skin rug in my living room was one of the firsts that I’d made on my own. The bear had come too close to my cabin and I’d had to shoot to defend my meat-stores. When at all possible, I did try to let bears be. They tended to be more of a nuisance than dangerous. It was coyotes and bobcats that were the real dangers. They weren’t as easily deterred as bears were. Plus, bears were usually too big for me to handle on my own.

Tucking the blanket around the man, I decided to let him sleep. I was not a doctor, but I couldn’t find anything wrong with him other than signs of exhaustion and being cold. Keeping him by the fire and letting him rest were the best I could come up with for now. If he woke up and there was something more serious going on, I’d figure out what to do then.

His jeans were an obvious sign that he was not from this area or used to this type of weather. I searched his jeans when I’d taken them off for a wallet or ID but there’d been nothing in his pockets except a very worn postcard of the beach. Random and not helpful.

I journeyed into the kitchen to see how the kids were faring. I still needed to move my snowmobile, bring in my bag, and check my gas levels. The generator had plenty of fuel, especially if I only used the fires to keep us heated. Many times, on stormy nights like this, I slept in front of the fireplace in my living room so I didn’t have to keep a fire going in two different rooms. I always had a fire going in the living room, as it was my most frequently used room. I only kept the kitchen and bedroom lit during extreme cold waves. Tomorrow, depending on the conditions, I should be able to dust off my solar panels to conserve the generator. Regardless, I had a feeling this was about to be a long night.