RILEY

February in Vermont. Cold. Blustery. If it was any sign of future winters, The 1867 Manor should be a real success. The ski season was booming. Every hotel and bed and breakfast in Stowe was booked to the teeth.

Then, the third week in February, Valentines Day week, it became unseasonably warm. Even with all the grooming, the surface was icing over. Only skiers with real Eastern skiing experience were loving it. By Wednesday, they were skiing on slush. Some call it corn skiing. The Snowcat groomers churn up the ice, making it like little, slippery pellets. Flying down a double black diamond on that is almost like waterskiing downhill. The ice and water flies out in a wake. There are more injuries, of course. Hitting ice at high speed is much harder than hitting snow. John can certainly attest to that.

Come Friday, the weather gods got greedy. Canada tossed one of the worst cold fronts ever seen in Vermont. The temperature plummeted to minus 24 degrees and that was before the wind chill was even factored in. The battle raged on. Sunday, a warm wet front climbed up from the Carolinas. We all know what that means. Snow.

And when I say snow, I mean snow. Another record. Six feet in twenty-four hours. John had wisely taken advantage of a great deal on a plow, the blade attached to the front of his jeep had saved us more than once that winter. Our driveway is a quarter mile long. Without plowing capability, we'd have had to hire a service just to get out for groceries. John plowed every hour that day until the snow lightened up.

And then it got more complicated. The temperature hovered at 22 degrees, keeping the slope surfaces in perfect condition for skiers, but there was a huge pile up of heavy snow at the summit of the mountain. Mount Mansfield has a rocky hook at its peek. If the temperature climbed just a degree or two, that snow could cause all kinds of havoc. It was a liability the resort was not willing to carry. Nor was the town interested in closing the mountain for the remainder of the profitable season. The only solution was to blast the snow loose then groom it back into useable slopes.

The town was given twenty-four hours notice. Everyone at the mountainside resort was evacuated, making even more Stowe Innkeepers smile. Sirens went off every hour for six hours before the blasting began. I'm not sure what was more irritating, the blaring noise, or the booming explosions. We're far enough away to watch from the bedroom window, but I gotta admit, I was thrilled my new windows weren't installed yet. My teeth felt jarred by the vibrations.

It was nine in the morning and we were having a meeting. Our engineer was a sweet little guy named Ralph. John called him Poindexter. Well, he did look more like a Poindexter than a Ralph; thick glasses, five foot three, twenty-eight years old and already balding, but one hell of an engineer. He was extremely impressed with the design for our addition. Nash had done it. It was amazing, elegant with several curved peaks, and looked just like a real Victorian greenhouse. There wasn't one probability not considered. Everything from bearable weight to materials was clearly specified. As the blasting continued, poor Ralph tried to keep from trembling, his fingers shaking as he went over a few details with us at the kitchen table, the blueprints spread out under the bare light bulb.

"The aluminum beams are being formed as we speak, and will . . . blast . . . ah, ah, oh. They'll be here on March fifteenth. This will go up like a dream, Mr. And Mrs. Biebe. You had one hell of a designer," he sighed like a love struck teenager. "I would absolutely love to work with him again . . . blast . . . ah, ah." Running his handkerchief over his sweating head, he cleared his throat. "Glass panels will arrive on the twentieth. And voila!" He looked at me, his tiny sparrow-like eyes twinkling. "By April forth, you will have the most spectacular dining room in the entire northeast."

Blast.

He actually dropped into his chair. I got him a glass of water and John tried not to laugh. Twice he coughed to disguise that unmistakable giggle. The important part of the meeting over, I went to the bedroom to watch. The white mountain atop the rocky mountain summit was still there, looming, ominous.

John walked in with a chuckle. "Poor guy. Shaking like a fucking leaf." He stood behind me, his warm arms hugging me close.

"He okay to drive?" I asked, not turning from the mountain, hoping the snow down.

"Yeah, he just needs to get away from the noise." His lips brushed the top of my head and I touched his face. That was the first rush of premonition. So vague I shook it off as a chill.

"Cold, baby?" John cuddled me closer then was off on wood duty, hauling in the split logs, placing them perfectly in the three crackling fireplaces, poking the coals. Then of course, tugging me to the love seat under wool blankets beside him.

I snuggled close. "This is one winter we'll never forget," I teased and ran my hands over his enlarged biceps. All the chopping, lifting, hauling, pushing and shoveling had molded John's body. The sleeves of his favorite flannel shirts were already too tight and he was reduced to wearing sweatshirts. His thighs too were becoming even more powerful than ever. His belly, tight. His butt, Jesus. And on top of all that, his face. It had a constant glow and a smile that could melt ice. I'd long ago stopped worrying that I'd gotten him into something he was going to hate. Hell, he loved this. Easily as much as I did.

Even with all the work, John and I found time to just have fun. We'd gone skiing several times, figuring there would be little opportunity next season to enjoy the sport together; we'd be opened and hopping with business by fall. And he was a great skier. Once an athlete, always an athlete. It was remarkable to watch. Except for his film, I've never seen John on the ice. But on the slopes, he rode the snow like the wind. Shushing, smooth as silk and so graceful for such a big guy. Well, big next to me. I'm pretty good, but it was hard to keep up with him. He was always waiting for me somewhere further down the trail, his worried eyes scanning, watching my every move. I almost never fall, but the one time I did was absolutely hysterical. He snapped off his skis and was climbing up the steep grade like a crazy man. I just let go, lay flat and slid on my back right into him. He tumbled, rolled, then skittered about thirty feet further down. Hell, we got applause from the chair lift for that.

"Fuck, Riles," he laughed, spitting snow out of his mouth. "Next time I'll just wait for you to get yourself back up."

"Good plan," I giggled, standing, brushing snow from my coat and looking down at him, scrambling to retrieve his poles and skis way up there. Then I was off. It was the first time I ever beat him down the slope. The only time, actually. Maybe we'd go again next week. We always had so much fun on the mountain.

John's mouth found mine under the hem of the blanket. "Your nose is like ice," he giggled and snuggled underneath with me, his hands expertly finding their way under all the layers of clothes I wore.

"Mmm." I love John like that. Sweet and demanding. Hard as a rock and soft as a feather. Loving me with every part of his body and mind. We talked quietly, realizing that we'd always remember these days, always remember them as the best of our lives. We talked about the future. About our Family. About sweet Andy, living in town, helping me design the new kitchen. Willing to live in Vermont and work with me. About the surprise arrival of Monica, his own lovely Number One. How happy we were for him. We sighed. And we used our mouths to kiss, to taste to savor.

We made love under the thick wool blanket then drifted off for a sweet nap. It was only noon when we woke. I stretched, thinking about making lunch when the phone rang. That awful shiver ran through me again as John answered it.

"Biebe."

He listened, his brows suddenly curled.

"Yeah, yeah. I can get out. Where?"

His eyes shot to me, concern written across his face.

"On my way."

My heart leapt and I ran to the bedroom window. The snow was down; Mount Mansfield's head was as bald as Ralph's. John was behind me, rifling through the closet, dragging out his warmest clothes.

"Fucking thrill seekers!" He shouted, pulling on his ski bibs, tugging not one but two more sweat shirts over the one he was already wearing.

I was frozen solid, afraid to move or even speak. He pulled heavy socks and grunted into his big boots, then looked up at me.

"Three fucking skiers on the North Face."

My heart skipped a beat. The North Face of the mountain was completely off limits. Skiers found taking their chances there were often arrested and fined. But that didn't seem to stop them from coming, finding a way up, and risking their necks. There had been two deaths already this year. I swallowed, watching him gather his thickest gloves and the hat that covers his face like a bank robber.

"Where are you going?" I squeaked.

"They're trapped, baby. Caught in the avalanche they knew was coming. Fucking jackasses!" He stomped through the house and I followed. "A whole day's warning, hours of sirens then another hour of blasting. Not like they fucking didn't know, God sakes." He grabbed his keys, looked around then settled his eyes on me.

I didn't say a word but he knew what was in my head.

"Baby, I gotta go help. I can handle the weather. Been trained for this kind of shit. They need me. It'll be another six hours before we can get help from the pros out west." He took me into his arms, the silky texture of his coat cold and inhuman against my face. "I don't know how long this is gonna take, Riles. There's enough dry wood under the tarp for you. You gonna be okay, baby?"

Jesus, I was the last thing he should be worried about. I straightened my shoulders and smiled, holding back my tears. "I'll be fine, John. Please be careful."

His kiss was amazing and far too short. My lips tingled from it for several minutes after I heard the jeep pull away. I stood in the center of the kitchen for a long time. Until the fire waned, and the house chilled. I put on my coat, pulled on my boots and went out for wood.

***

Waiting.

When I was fourteen, I waited three hours to find out if I'd won a piano scholarship. It felt like a lifetime. I got the scholarship. When I was eighteen, I waited three weeks to see if I got the job I really wanted. Got it. At twenty-one, I remember waiting to see if my groom would leave me stranded at the altar. Lost that one. He showed up. Drunk. At thirty-two I waited, bleeding and scared at a police station to press charges against my wife-beating husband. He was put in a cell.

Just this past June, I waited for an entire month to ask for a visit from John Biebe, and now he was mine. So, I rationalized, on the average waiting was a good thing, right? Then why couldn't I shake the horrible feeling I had. The awful shiver that rippled through my heart. Paralyzed me.

By four o'clock I was beside myself. Pacing the house, carrying my cell phone in my pocket, checking it every few minutes to make sure the ringer was on. I drank a pot of coffee, made another. Cleaned out the refrigerator, scrubbed the floor.

Rinnngggg.

Jesus, my heart shot into my throat. "John!" I never even looked at the caller I.D.

"No silly, it's me. Where you been?" It was Darcy. Shit, I completely forgot to call her.

"Oh, is it Monday?" I lied, plopping on the love seat, trying to sound nonchalant.

"What's wrong?"

I swallowed hard, blinked back tears then sighed dramatically. "Cabin fever. How's California?" I listened as she gave me a litany of lovely images I couldn't even think about. I walked to the bed room window, staring up at the Mountain and grunted like I was paying attention. "Great."

"What the hell is wrong with you? And don't tell me cabin fever."

"Nothing." Damn, the last thing I wanted to do was get her all worried too. John is a capable person, he knew what he was doing and he'd be fine. Right?

"Yeah, yeah. I know something's wrong. You didn't even ask how Bud is."

And that actually made me chuckle. "So how's Bud?"

"Grouchy. But fine. How's the pooch?"

I looked down at poor Sophie. She'd been following me like a shadow since John left, probably sensing my distress. Poor puppy looked like she was going to cry. "She has cabin fever too."

"Where's John? I was hoping to say hi."

"Um, he's out plowing. We got more snow." Christ, how many lies had I told in the last five minutes? That couldn't be good for my karma.

"Jesus, Riles. Why don't you two come out here. Get away from it for a while. Lach will come and get you, we can . . ."

"Not now. Maybe next week. Listen, Darce, I gotta go. There's someone at the door." And I hung up.

At seven I called the ski patrol. No one knew anything. I paced. It was dark. I figured they must have lights, right? At eight I became relentless, repeatedly calling the sheriff's office, the resort, the hospital, and the ski patrol.

Around nine o'clock, after I suffered a bout of nausea, puking my guts out in the toilet for nearly a half hour, there was a pound at my door. It was Sheriff Mike Bently. He stood in the cold with his wife.

"Riley."

I thought I was going to faint. I held on to the door for support.

***

I think he told me four or five times, but I still kept blinking. Mike's wife, I fucking forgot her name, had made tea. She was sitting close to me as he sat in the other love seat, trying to explain it one more time. Slowly. Patiently.

"Riley, the blasting was controlled, but there are so many unpredictable factors involved. We had located two of the skiers and got them down. Not even hurt. Then we got a lead on the third. Three men went to check it out." He sighed and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "John was one of them."

It felt like deja vu. I must have heard him the first few times but I listened carefully, desperately hoping for a different ending.

"The temperature dropping, then an inversion. It slid. Another avalanche. Riley, he's lost. We're doing everything we can to find him. Everything."

I broke. Freaked. "Lost? Lost? What the hell does that mean?" Then I started to cry, shoving the sweet woman away, glaring at both of them as if they'd pushed John under the snow or something. She kept trying to comfort me and I almost slapped her. I turned on Mike. "Are you saying he's dead?"

"No!" He stood, took my shoulders in his hands, looking into my eyes, forcing me to focus, to listen. "No, Riley. I'm saying he's lost. I'm saying we're searching. We're doing everything we can, honey. Everything."

"Is there someone we can call?" Maggie, that's her name, Maggie asked softly.

I pulled my cell out of my pocket. Dialed with shaking fingers.

"Yeah!" The voice rumbled through the receiver.

"Bud? Can I talk to Darcy?" I was sobbing, Maggie rubbed my arm, she had tears in her eyes too. Mike just paced then added wood to the fire.

"What's wrong?"

"Please, Bud."

I heard him shuffle, then Darcy's voice.

"What's going on?"

"I lied to you. Something is wrong. Really wrong." I could hardly get the words out.

"Just calm down, hon. Tell me."

"There was an avalanche," I gasped. "John went to help find some skiers caught in it. Then another avalanche. Darcy," I choked back a sob then finally was able to speak. "John's missing."

"Jesus Christ!" I heard her gasp and repeat my words.

Bud's powerful voice come over the receiver. "We're on our way, baby. We're coming."

Click.

Mike told me more about how they planned the rescue, how they had a general idea of where to search, and that a full rescue team with advanced equipment from the Rockies would be heading back up at sunrise, if they could even get in. Another huge storm was heading south from Canada, there wasn't even a bush pilot willing to fly till it passed.

"At sunrise," I said, refusing to acknowledge the possibility of another storm, thinking of John, freezing, buried in the snow all night. "That's eight hours." My throat was raw, felt like I'd been screaming. I could hardly see straight. I looked at Mike.

"I need a cigarette. Please." I begged. Mike knew that I'd quit, John had forbidden him to give me a cigarette at the risk of castration, or at the least no more football parties. Mike and Maggie had become good friends. They visited often and I loved entertaining them. Good people. He lit and handed it to me, kneeling at my feet.

"Riley, there's no way to do a full search now. It's too steep and treacherous in the dark. And with the weather variations, still very unstable," he said softly. "But we have a skeleton team of our best men up there."

It sounded hopeless, but he looked so reassuring, so positive. I nodded, then went to the bathroom and threw up.

REAGAN

I woke suddenly, unusual for me, as I'm a slow-to-wake person, and sat straight up in the bed, jostling Maximus to awareness. I could feel the cold, raw fear deep in my gut, and started to shake, felt the tears gathering in my eyes. Maximus sat up and pulled me into his warmth.

"Cassandra, what troubles you?" Fighting for control so that my voice wouldn't shake, I managed to answer him.

"We have to leave, right now." Thank God this man understands me and asks no questions when I tell him something like that. Familiarity does occasionally breed contempt, for us it had bred enhanced awareness of the other's senses. He released me long enough to get out of bed, and held out his hands to me; as I stood he looked into my brimming eyes.

"What is it, Beloved?"

"It's Johnny ...something's happened to him. We have to go to Riley." He didn't even blink, just turned and picked up the phone beside the bed, calling the night manager at the small hotel we'd stopped at for the night on our drive to Arizona. I'd wanted him to see 'the Old West,' and we'd taken off without an itinerary. I dimly heard him telling the man to prepare our bill; that we had an emergency and had to leave immediately. He was pulling on his clothes as he spoke, and that galvanized me into action. I was dressed before he got off the phone. Of course, the dogs were awake by now, barking as they sensed my alarm. He snapped their leads into their collars and handed them to me.

"Walk them, Cassandra. I will go fill the petrol tank in the Hummer. I will be back within 20 minutes. Call and get us the first available flight." I looked at my
watch . . . it was three-twenty-two in the morning. We were on our way to Phoenix by a quarter of four.

RILEY

Mike and Maggie stayed with me, watched me pace and wring my hands. I drank coffee, smoked and puked until five-thirty when Bud and Darcy charged into the house. You would think I'd have taken the opportunity to completely fall apart, but the terror on their faces made me do the complete opposite. I walked into Darcy's opened arms.

"You alright, Riles?" She mumbled into my hair.

"Yeah." Then I turned to Bud. His embrace was different. Tight, strong, determined. Sophie ambled over to Bud, looked up at him.

"Uff!"

"Yeah, I'm here, pooch." He turned his attention to Mike.

"This is Sheriff Mike Bently and his wife Maggie. Bud and Darcy," I introduced.

Bud shook his hand, but that was the end of the formalities. "How's the search?"

"We head back up in an hour. I gotta get to the station." Mike pulled on his coat.

"I'm going with you." Bud lowered a kiss on Darcy's lips, and their eyes met. "Take care of her." He whispered then looked down at Sophie. "Come on, pooch. You're gonna help us find your daddy."

He lifted all thirty pounds of Bulldog like she weighed nothing and headed out the door. Maggie hugged me then tried to smile. "They'll get him, Riley." And she too left.

We watched the police Jeep pull away then I gathered wood from the porch. Darcy tugged at a few logs and followed me, watching me toss them on the fire and handing me the ones in her arm. I turned and looked up into her eyes. "Fuck." It was all I could say.

I sat at the kitchen table. Darcy bustled around, making me tea and toast. Insisting I at least try to eat. As I nibbled, she told me the scoop.

"There was warning of a storm, but it stalled west of St. Louis. Lach has headed back for Iz and Cort. I think he's picking up Terry and Dee in Texas. Max and Reags are somewhere in Arizona, on their way. Hando and Mare hopped a commercial flight as soon as we called them, and Colin's driving Nat. She wanted to fly them in, but she's so shaken, he put his foot down, ya know."

I just nodded, feeling the pull of all those loving Brothers and Sisters heading my way. "Darcy, I'm so fucking scared."

"I know, I know." She held my hand in both of hers. "Jesus, I wish I could say something. Do something."

Do something? Do something! Do . . . something. I stood.

"Where are you going?"

"To do the only thing I can, Darce. I'm going to pray." I walked out without a coat, crossed the porch and opened the left tower door. Darcy scurried behind me, coats in hand. I climbed to the top floor then sat, cross legged in the center of the room, staring out at the mountain.

The windowpanes were frosted, but clear circles were illuminated by the early sunlit snow. It looked like a patterned puzzle of Mount Mansfield. Darcy draped my coat over my shoulders and tugged me close. Our breath billowed in clouds. I closed my eyes, cleared my head and let the words come.

At first, I begged. Begged for John's safety, that he'd be found unharmed. But then, as real spiritual focus sifted into my brain, I felt the smooth truth of prayer. The reality of it. My soul ached, cried, panicked then melted. And I prayed that the right thing would happen. That His will be done, that I would have the strength to accept that, whatever it would be. Then, there were no words, just the profound peacefulness of meditation and the sensation of the Spirit.

Darcy left, mumbling about bringing hot tea and blankets if we were going to stay up there.

DARCY

My heart was pounding. She was really a mess. Hadn't slept or eaten. Looked like hell, and seemed so disconnected. I've seen Riles like that before, when her memories were just too hard to face, when she hid from everything.

Bud was up on that mountain. That damn mountain. I have to admit, I was terrified for him. Jesus. What if something happened to Bud too? I put the tea pot on the stove and searched for blankets. Couldn't even think about that. Now I know where Riley goes. Some things are just impossible to face. I prayed too, been reciting the rosary since the moment we left home. Over and over. The thought of John hurt, cold, lost. The possibility of losing him. I stared at the teapot as it squealed. Not even hearing it. Didn't even hear the door open.

"Dulce?"

I turned into Max's arms. "How did you get here so fast?"

He lowered a sweet kiss on my head. "We hired a private jet out of Phoenix. Cassandra is at the mountain, awaiting an opportunity to work with a back-up rescue team. Where is Little Sister?"

I sighed. "She's in that damn tower. Freezing. I was just about to take some hot tea and blankets. She won't come down, Max. Try to get her to come down and get warm."

He nodded, gathered the blankets and thermos of hot tea from my hands then kissed my lips softly before he left.

I tossed a few pieces of wood haphazardly into the kitchen fireplace then sat and scratched my head. Reagan was waiting to go up with a back-up rescue team and Maximus was at the Inn. At first, that made absolutely no sense to me. I mean, shouldn't it be the other way around? But Max was changing, accepting Reagan for the strong capable woman she is. And after all, he was Riley's Number Two. If she was expected to comfort him in times of need, I suppose it worked the other way too. At least, Max was taking it seriously. Hell, if anyone could get her out of that freezing tower, the General could.

I pulled out my rosary and fingered it idly. It was very old, belonged to my grandmother. My fingertips smoothed over the small pearly beads. I clutched the cross tight in my fist. "Take care of them." I said aloud.

RILEY

A blanket slowly draped over me then I felt his warmth, the deep pull in my heart. He sat behind me and drew me into his embrace. "Maximus," I whispered.

His warm breath was on my neck as he cuddled me close, tugging the blanket tight under my chin. "Dear One," he said softly. "You must rest."

"I can't. I need to stay strong. To focus on John. To bring him back." I stared at the mountain, the sun glistening over the warming surface, making it shine like a sheet of ice. "Somewhere up there, John is alone. I can't let him be alone. I have to pull him back to me. I have to stay strong."

Max sighed. "Riley," he said, holding out his palm for me to see. "Every one of John's Brothers and every one of your Sisters are being strong for you. I carry in my hand their love and their strength. I bring it to you, so that you may rest. Dear One, you must be strong for when John comes home."

He didn't say dead or alive, and I choked back a sob, looking into his big palm. He pressed it against my heart, placing his other hand over it, soothing me as I cried quietly in his arms for hours, watching the sun move closer and closer to the mountain. To night.

I don't remember falling asleep.

MONICA

My grief was so deep I had thought nothing would bring me out of it. Nothing. Losing Dad was horrible, but I was soon to learn that there is something else in life to focus on. Life. Not death.

When the phone woke me, I had the awful feeling of reliving the bad news about Dad. Andy answered after the first ring and went white. I started to panic. Andy. My pillar of strength was crumbling. Good Lord, what could have happened to cause such a response?

"Get dressed, love," he said after taking several deep breaths. "John's been lost in the avalanche. We need to get to the Inn."

My mind was spinning. As we drove to the old house, Andy was quiet, holding my hand tight. "Do ya mind if I leave ya there, Monna? I might be able to help at the mountain."

"No, no. Of course not." This was very bad, I could tell by the look on his face. I felt my self move into a place I have never known. A place of family. John and Riley had been so wonderful through my personal sadness. Standing with Andy and me through the funeral. Making me feel loved and taken care of. An instinct I never knew I had, kicked in. This is now my family. And I would do what I could to support them as they had me.

DARCY

The house had become like Grand Central Station; Family arrivals, neighbors stopping in to see if there was any news or to offer help. Cort was outside chopping wood. At Bud's request, he stayed behind. Jesus, Bud had told him that if something happened to him, at least Cort would be there. Safe. To watch over me and his Babydoll. It stuck in the back of my mind, that tiny statement, four simple words.

If something happened to Bud.

We all did what we could to keep occupied. Izzy was looking for something to clean, Dee and Meredith sat together on the love seat talking. Nat and Colin gave up the drive somewhere in Nebraska and hopped on a plane, they arrived a few hours after Max. Poor Nat was lost, worried and trying to keep from crying. She was being comforted by, of all people, our newest Sister, Monica. Poor dear, she'd just lost her father to cancer, and there she was, strong for her new family. We were all watching the sun start to set; knowing damn well that there was no way John would survive a second night buried in the snow.

Except for Cort and Max, all the men were at the mountain planning to go up. We got news that the equipment and experts from Colorado had finally arrived and were preparing to take a second team up to search through the night. I couldn't help but wonder when or if they'd give up. I knew Bud would never give up.

When Max walked in the door with Riley, sound asleep in his arms, we all went silent. I quickly grabbed my cell phone and turned it to vibrate then watched everyone else do the same. No body wanted to wake Riley. Especially with the sound of a ringing phone.

I followed Max into the bedroom and pulled down the blankets. We tucked her in and just looked down at her. My heart was breaking. How would she ever survive if we lost John? How would I? I left before I could start crying. Max silently closed the door behind us. Izzy went to him and he hugged her, reaching a hand out to Dee and Nat. Then he dropped a sweet kiss on Mere=s forehead before sitting at the table.

I'd made dinner and we all struggled to eat, trying not to turn on the light, not to admit it was getting dark.

BUD

Fucking snow. I always knew it was a killer. They outfitted me in warm gear but if I didn't have the pooch tucked inside my jacket, I swear I'd have fucking frozen to death before we even got onto the damn snowmobiles. She nuzzled against my chest; her ugly face tucked under my neck and snored as we rumbled up the mountain.

Things didn't get really rough till we went to that back part of the mountain. The North Face. The terrain was steep, the snow soft and there were huge fucking rocks poking up here and there. What kind of fucking idiot would try to ski that? And was it really worth my Brother's life to risk it? Mother fucking morons.

That's when they strapped snow shoes on my boots. There was no way to get the vehicles up that. I clomped along, holding Sophie tight, breathing like I was a heavy smoker. The air up there must be thinner. Have no idea what the altitude was. It was fucking hard.

Around one, we saw something poking up out of the snow. I got excited, tried to run. Even let the dog out. She just looked around, sniffed then whined to get back in my coat. Maybe it was fucking useless to bring her. I don't know.

When we reached it, dug it up, it turned out to be the snowmobile John was using, upside down and almost completely buried. The leader of the team shouted his rationale. Said that the avalanche would have thrown John off then pushed him further down the mountain. Made sense to me, so I followed. It had to be around four-thirty when we moved on. Almost sunset on that side of the mountain. I looked down, could actually see the Inn. Knew Darcy was down there worrying. Worrying for me. For John. Good thing I was able to talk Cort into staying down there with her and Iz.

We climbed up over a rise then headed down an easy slope. I was sweating like a pig, and the pooch poked her nose out for some cool air. Again the terrain rose, and I could see the team get excited. Must be some kind of sign that we were near where he'd have landed. Again I huffed up a hill and at the top we saw a black mound.

I quickly unzipped my jacket and tried to get the leash connected to Sophie's collar. Had to pull off my gloves. But she skiddered off toward the mound. She was sinking in the snow. No snow shoes for dogs. But we ran, following her as she leapt forward, covered with snow, barking like crazy. My heart was pounding. Could hardly breathe. That's when I noticed.

As we got closer, it was obvious to me that the black mound couldn't be John. It was too fucking big. We were about twenty feet away when it moved. Stood. Jesus Fucking Christ. It was a fucking bear! A big black one.

It roared. Man, the rumble of that fucking animal echoed down to us. "Sophie!" I yelled, but she just kept going, straight at the bear. "God dammit!" I ran as fast as I could with the fucking snowshoes flopping on my boots. They were all with me.

The bear raised is paws, roared again. We stopped dead. That's when I saw the barrel of the rifle out of the corner of my eye. Radio contact was all static for some reason up there. We'd be shooting off three shots of we found John. If the fucker was the marksman I suspected, this would only take one.

Blam!

Sophie squealed, spun and leapt, still running at the animal. That huge bear dropped like a boulder. Still as stone. Against the other's advice to wait for confirmation that the fucking bear was dead, I ran after the dog. God forbid something happen to Sophie. Poor Riles had enough to deal with.