Timberline Trail by Loren Lockner

Simons? Her heart quickened as she visualized his serious green eyes. Strangely she found his abrupt manner and no-nonsense attitude appealing, and Tia fought down her attraction to the photographer by instead examining the motives of her ex-fiancé, Paul Dale, who had used her in every conceivable way. His bent pickup truck with no sign of the driver caused her to shiver. She clearly had to find her way back to her cabin to ring up Nancy or Roy on the short-wave.
    A sharp bite of fear caused her to cry out. What about Tory, Nancy’s teenaged son? She’d completely forgotten about him! Hadn’t Tory set out on his snowmobile to follow Paul Dale because of fears the Californian might get lost? A sense of hopeless dread washed over her until a thought suddenly struck her; what if she herself was the intended target? Was this accident somehow connected to the scandal arising from the murder of her father’s partner, Andrew Carson? The appalling thought forced her to jump up, her cold feet throbbing.
    Tia fervently wished she’d brought some sort of supplies with her, but couldn’t have known she’d become target practice. One thing was for certain; she couldn’t stay here. Tia moved again, this time in the direction of Bear Valley, her feet picking a path toward Jon’s camp. She could only pray he was friend not foe. Tia trudged for nearly twenty minutes, her feet turning soggy and numb. Glancing overhead at the darkening sky she realized it was beginning to cloud over. The storm Nancy had predicted had arrived and Tia was about to be caught in the middle without shelter or adequate clothing.
    The tempe rature dropped rapidly and Tia hunched her shoulders against the cold, wishing she’d donned her heavy winter parka. Only an hour earlier it had been a balmy fifty degrees but now it was nearly freezing. With only her thin thermal mittens and summer outdoor boots her toes and fingers felt lifeless as she trudged through the soggy snow. The insistent chatter of squirrels to her left warned all who would listen to find shelter.
    The clouds formed a thick cover, casting a dark shad ow over the trees. As Tia rested at the edge of a small hill some thirty minutes later, she estimated Jon’s camp should be directly north. The steep terrain below was rough and rocky and if she fell and injured herself who would find her? It might be better to stick to the road but common sense warned against that route. As she stood debating what to do, a warning snowflake brushed her cheek and Tia was forced to make her decision.
    Heedless of danger, her arms flapping as she tried to keep her balance, Tia plunged down the steep slope. Snowflakes swirled around her, enveloping everything in a mystical white fairyland of drifting snow. Tia heard the crunch of snow to her left and halted abruptly, using a poplar tree to shield her. The snap of underbrush caused Tia to frantically break off the pointed end of a protruding branch for a weapon. Holding her feeble weapon outward like a spear, Tia flinched as the bush crackled again. A gleam of yellow eyes and wagging tail caused her shoulders to sag in relief.
    “Sug ar?” she called out tentatively. “Is that you?” The loafer took a cautious step forward, limping badly as droplets of blood stained the freshly fallen snow.
    “Come here Sugar! Come here boy!” she cried, easing forward and thrusting her hand outward towards the beast. The wolf took a deliberate step backward. Instinctively Tia recognized that the wolf viewed the stick as a weapon. Tia dropped the rotting branch and stepped forward, her hand outstretched. The wolf slowly sidled toward her before finally sinking upon his haunches to wag a silvery tail. Tia stroked his rough head like a tame dog.
    “Good boy! That’s a good Sugar,” Tia crooned, while inspecting the wound. His bandage had partially dropped away, revealing a small stream of blood oozing from where the stitches had worked apart.
    “Oh poor Sugar, have you been