Known by Kendra Elliot Page B

the snowmobile. With the bitter wind, it would be a freezing ride without the protection of the truck’s cab. The snowmobile’s gas tank was a quarter full. He had no idea how much the tank held, but by simply eyeing the machine he estimated it couldn’t be more than ten or twelve gallons.
    What kind of gas mileage does a snowmobile get? While hauling two full sleds?
    More than enough to get them to the highway. How far they’d need to go on the highway was another question. At least there should be some traffic out there.
    Unless they cleaned up the accident and closed the highway until the storm passes.
    It’d happened before.
    He checked his cell phone. Still no service. As soon as a bar appeared on his screen, he would call Michael. His brother was the best means of getting them off the mountain. There was no way they were driving a snowmobile sixty miles into the city, and because of the storm and accident, it was possible that the forest rangers and Clackamas County Sheriff’s Office wouldn’t have the resources to give them a ride to town.
    The wet sound of retching filled the quiet forest. He spun around to see Violet bent over and Gianna supporting her forehead with one hand while resting another on her back. Gianna’s brown gaze met his and she shook her head the tiniest bit. She didn’t look too concerned.
    Sick? Food poisoning? Nerves? The seat belt?
    Oro headed toward the women to investigate. “Oro!” Chris called the dog back, fully aware of what dogs were willing to eat. Oro spun toward him and perked his ears. “C’mere, boy.” The golden dog rocked through the deep drifts, purposefully tossing snow in the air with his nose.
    At least one of us isn’t worried.
    “Ready?” he asked Gianna. She nodded at him and held up one gloved finger, asking for a moment. Chris studied their backup plan, pleased with the results. The rope towline should pull the sleds with no issues. He simply needed to be careful when stopping and cornering. It would get them where they need to go. Gianna directed Violet to one of the toboggans. They’d agreed the teen should wear the helmet. The girl sat down, put on her goggles, and gripped a duffel. Oro promptly sat in the front of her sled, his eyes and ears stating he was ready for fun. Violet patted the dog and gave a weak smile. The first Chris had seen all morning.
    “That’s his usual seat,” Chris explained. “He loves sledding.”
    Gianna took a seat on the other sled. “Let’s go.” She pulled her hat down and her scarf up over her nose and mouth to her goggles. Through the clear plastic, her gaze said she had complete faith in their success.
    Chris took a deep breath and started the engine.

    A windshield would have been nice.
    Gianna kept her head down, thankful for the goggles. The wind was nearly unbearable. It blasted right through her scarf and gloves. She’d tried facing backward during part of her ride, but it’d nauseated her. Violet rested her helmeted head against Oro’s back, using the dog to block the gentle snowflakes that turned into stinging pieces of ice upon impact with skin. Oro didn’t mind the cold.
    Twice they’d dismounted and walked up hills when the engine groaned with its load. Chris would drive the snowmobile to the top of the hill, then walk back down, breaking a path for them. For the first five steps she’d welcomed the change and relief from the cold wind. Then she’d simply been miserable.
    Violet was quiet. Gianna was 90 percent certain that nerves had upset her stomach back at the truck. The teen hadn’t complained about the cold or the hikes up the hills, making Gianna simultaneously proud and worried. Her pace was a bit slow, but she didn’t ask for a break. When they got back on their sleds after the second hill, Violet had promptly closed her eyes and leaned forward against the dog. Gianna noticed that Chris kept an eye on her daughter but didn’t ask questions.
    Their progress was slow. She and Violet had