Page 65 of Saddles

“Come on, frosty. One last tread to the barn.” He holds out a heavy coat, then slides his on. “It’s warm out today with the sun out. Should make for a pretty helicopter ride.” He gives me a lopsided smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

With two empty water jugs in one hand, he opens the door to the sparkling snow.

It’s almost too bright. Or my eyes might be extra sensitive this morning.

Holding my arm up to block the glare, I follow in his footsteps.

It keeps my shoes from getting filled before we get to the shelter.

Pepper nods her head and curls up her lip when she sees me.

“Hey, pretty girl.” I’ve learned she likes it when I scratch under her jaw and along the front of her neck.

She plants her forehead against my chest and lets me make furrows in her fur.

The ringing of a phone makes her jerk up, her ears swiveling towards Ford.

He curses under his breath and digs it out. “Yep.”

Garbled noises come out of the tiny speaker, but I can’t make them out.

“Okay. See you in a bit.” He clicks the off button then looks up at me with a pained expression.

“How long?” I choke out. It feels like there’s a rock in my throat.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “About twenty minutes. They’re taking off.”

I glance down at the heavy coat and the thermal pants, with my stained and blood smeared sneakers beneath.

“Well, it’s not like I have to pack.” Everything I own is on my body.

My plan is to eat crow and go back to Dad’s, see if I can stay there at least long enough to get my stuff back.

“Fuck,” he grunts, then drops the water jugs.

He grabs my hand and drags me out of the barn.

“Did I do something wrong?” I have to double step to keep up with his determined pace.

He doesn’t reply, but flings the door open and points at the stool. “Sit.”

Digging through a drawer, he pulls out a notebook that lands on the counter with a slap, then furiously starts writing.

“Ford?” I wish he would tell me what he’s doing.

But he ignores me until he finishes, then tears the page out and folds it up.

Still without a word, he takes my palm and flattens it, then curls my fingers around the paper. “Don’t lose this.” His tone is so serious, it’s intimidating.

“Am I allowed to look at it?” I stare up at him.

The crinkles in the corners of his eyes deepen as he squints at me. “Not until you’re in the helicopter.”

A thrumming sound resonates through the cabin, then takes on the rhythmic beat of a chopper.

Damn it. I don’t want to go.

Ford takes hold of my arms, making me look at him. “Remember, Mason and his family are safe. You can trust them.”

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