Page 102 of The Cowboy and the Baby

33

CADE

The smell of exhaust swamped me when I pulled out of the driveway, cut a sharp right, and revved the snowmobile faster. Established tire ruts ran up this dirt road, heading to a neighboring ranch closer to the trees. The Jeep tire tracks would blend in here if Richard drove this way, but not if he took the two-track.

Answers were a short distance away.

I let everything else except my focus on the road melt out of my mind. The helmet protected my head from the gusts slamming into us with increasing strength, and I kept the eye shield up to see better. Our high beams were the sole light source, and the low, snowy ceiling lurked with dark promises of a nefarious night.

Near the edge of the property, I slowed and found exactly what I sought. A ragged old fence piled with snow marked the edge of the property, making it easy to delineate where it ended.

Exactly where it ended sat two tire tracks going up and over the embankment. The tracks cut off the road and onto the two-track, expertly navigating a high point on the ditch. Snow and ice piled high, making it passable. I let the engine idle, stood, and waved Wyatt next to me. He shouted over the engines.

“Old hoss! You’re always right! It’s crazy.”

“Head back,” I shouted. “Tell them we’ve found a set of fresh tire tracks heading up the two-track.”

Wyatt laughed. “No way! I’m going with you. You might need me. The storm is picking up, and you need to make sure Lily can return home if something has happened. There’s no way a Jeep will make it to the forest service road.”

I muttered swear words under my breath. He was right; I did need another person. I reached for my phone and pulled it out. No reception. Stuffing it back in my coat, I twirled a finger in the air.

Wyatt revved the engine and followed me over the snowbank.

In near-blizzard conditions like this, the Jeep couldn’t be going fast. There was a reality where Richard might make it work for a mile or two, but not forever. Eventually, the two-track would thin out, depositing them in the forest to flounder around, seeking the turn off that led to the forest service road in the middle of a blizzard.

That’s exactly what he wanted.

But several feet of snow on the ground and blowing winds would make it nearly impossible. So the rescue mission became less of a save-Lily-from-her-crazy-grandparents to save-Lily-from-the-storm.

I had my doubts Richard would give up until he was absolutely stuck, and that’s where we stepped in.

Once we cleared the ditch, came up a bluff, and saw the open field before me, I almost swore again. Wind and snow blocked my view of the distant mountains, but I knew they were there. The Jeep’s tire tracks cut into the scene, heading mostly in the anticipated direction. Snow already started to fill the bottom, but they lay plenty visible. Richard must be guessing his way along.

I kicked the engine up and soared out.

Every few minutes, I slowed to check on Wyatt, but it was a wasted effort. He kept up, off to my side, on the right Jeep track. I pushed the snowmobile beyond safe limits, skimming the top of the snow, riding along the left tire track. The terrain changed from open fields to half-buried brush, saplings, and eventually trees.

The higher we climbed, the more the storm battered my cheeks. Cold crept in. The snowmobiles had heaters on the grips, but the warmth didn’t permeate fast enough through my gloves to do more than keep stiffness at bay.

By some miracle, Richard had made it this far.

Then the trees closed in for real. We slid into the pines all at once, leaving the more sparsely populated bushes behind. Darkness came with falling snow drapes and difficulty seeing. Our two beams combined to widen our visibility, but it still didn’t make this safe.

We pressed on.

“C’mon,” I muttered. “You didn’t have that much of a head start, and you can’t go fast in weather like this.”

But maybe the extra hour was enough. And if Richard knew where to turn off, or had the good luck to find it, then there was a chance they were already on the forest service road and heading into Idaho. It may be too late for me to bring Lily home tonight.

Yet, if the Jeep high-centered, or hit a tree and they were stuck, where there was no reception . . .

I bit back the fears. They weren’t helpful.

Snow thickened, making it difficult to see through the headlights. I tracked the tire marks, but barely. The longer we rode, the harder the wind, the less visibility we had. Everything was obscured.

Wyatt dropped behind me. There wasn’t space for two machines. Barely enough for the Jeep, in some portions. The powdery mix fell fast and heavy, intermixed with windy gusts that robbed even Wyatt of his enjoyment. The hallowed mountain stillness felt feral, snarling, compared to the happy whoops we left behind.

When a clearing opened up, the storm hit us full force. I stopped, turning sideways as a gust threatened to pitch me over. Wyatt pulled up next to me.