Page 14 of Saddles

Within a few minutes, a buzz of heat radiates from the small potbelly.

My hands ache as the feeling comes back into them.

All I can hope is that the below zero temperatures keep the troublemakers holed up too.

I don’t think I used the satellite phone at all last winter. Shit, I hope I remember how it works.

When I pull out the plastic Pelican case and pop it, nothing lights up when I hit the button.

Maybe the damn thing is broken?

Shit. Bet it’s the battery. Doubt it’s been plugged in for months.

Luckily, I have one of those fancy thermal chargers. The bad part is it might take a while.

I guess food is up next.

Something hot and filling should warm me up. Beef stroganoff for the win.

The pot fits on the woodstove next to the tiny generator, and doesn’t take long to boil.

I didn’t realize how damn hungry I was until I burn my damn tongue on the first bite.

Fuck it, I’m too impatient to wait.

Roscoe tilts his head at the noises I’m making with each scalding spoonful.

“Youwishyour cold kibble tasted this good. If you stop looking at me funny, I might let you lick the pot.” I raise the saucepan to emphasize my point.

He chuffs in response, then turns towards the door and lets out a low growl.

“What is it?” I’ve learned to trust him.

He isn’t the type for idle barking.

When he gets up and noses the handle, I put my food aside and throw on my coat.

A blast of cold air whistles through the tiny cabin when I open it, but now I can hear it too.

The high pitched whine of a snow machine.

And it’s getting closer.

What the shit?

Racing back inside, I grab my pistol, then follow Roscoe towards the growing noise of the engine.

Chapter 6

April

Everything aches.

And I feel filthy…everywhere.

When they leave, there’s a part of me that is relieved knowing I’ll have time where I’m not having to try and fend them off.

Davey is the worst.

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