Alone in the Wild (Rockton #5)(62)

I’m not sure that last part’s true. Edwin might really have presumed the winter-born baby had been abandoned. It’s still a shitty thing to do.

“So where do we find them?” I ask.

Dalton jerks his chin east. “That way, almost a full day’s walk. Yeah, I keep tabs on them. Never talked to them. I was raised not to. They made my birth parents nervous, so we steered clear. Gene Dalton wanted nothing to do with either settlement and advised me to do the same. But I always know where to find them. They’ve been over there for the last few years.”

“So back to town for the snowmobiles?” I ask.

Dalton shakes his head. “There aren’t any trails out there. We gotta walk. Which means going back to town and gearing up for a full-on camping trip.”

“Why don’t I head on back to Rockton and you kids overnight at my place,” Cypher says. “It’s a helluva lot closer than Rockton. If you strike out from there in the morning, you’ll reach the Second Settlement by afternoon. You’ll need to grab a tent to overnight on the way back, but I’ve got one and plenty of blankets. Take what you need from my supplies.” He smiles. “That gives me permission to take what I need from yours.”



* * *



Cypher leaves for Rockton, and by nightfall we’re made it to his winter cabin. It used to be owned by a settler named Silas Cox. Come winter, Cypher would rent a sleeping bag in the corner. Then Cox fell victim to the local cougar, and Cypher took over the lease. When spring arrives, he’ll be on the move, following game and trading, like Jacob. In winter, though, everyone wants a place to hunker down, and this is Cypher’s.

Since taking possession, he’s made repairs. Cox had been the kind of guy who builds a half-assed structure and stays until it rots. Cypher has filled cracks between the logs, fixed the roof, and added a sturdy food-storage compartment around back. When we get inside, we find as cozy a cabin as you could want. It’s only about ten by fifteen feet, but out here, extra room means extra heating. The interior has a fireplace, an underfloor icebox, a low bed, and a table with one chair.

Before we split from Cypher, he’d asked us to check his snares. Trapping is his preferred hunting method—he doesn’t use guns and has never mastered a bow. We leave Storm inside with some dried meat and head out in the dark, flashlights in hand. The snares haven’t been checked in two days, and we find two snowshoe hares, a marten, and a mink. Dalton skins the marten and mink for Cypher. The meat is only eaten late in a cold, hard winter, and we presume Cypher won’t want it, so we cook it up for Storm. What she doesn’t eat, I’ll dry in strips overnight in the fireplace and we’ll take it with us for her.

I cook one of the hares for our dinner. We don’t eat anything else with it. Cypher isn’t a gardener, and 90 percent of his food stores are meat, so we won’t raid his meager supply of dried greens, berries, nuts, and roots. We have a half dozen chocolate-peanut-butter protein bars in our packs and split one for dessert.

We’re in bed by eight. That’s what can happen when night falls by late afternoon, and you haven’t slept more than a few hours in days. We don’t sleep, though. No sex either. It’s been a long and unsettling day, and even after we crawl into bed, we don’t talk about it right away. We’ve let Storm stay in the cabin—there’s plenty of room.

I curl up with Dalton, my cheek resting on his bare chest, listening to his slow breathing. Feeling the tension, too, strumming through him, and waiting for him to speak.

“What happened today…” he says finally. “With Owen and Cherise…”

“Trying to sell me?” I say, my voice light. He’s on his back, and I roll on top of him, my arms crossed on his chest. “Owen came out first, and I had that situation under control, so I tried to defuse it rather than fight. I didn’t expect Cherise.”

I purse my lips. “Pretty sure no one expects Cherise. She is a piece of work. But I still wasn’t in danger of being carted off like a side of venison. I was trying to keep things cool until…”

I remember, and I shiver. I don’t mean to. I can’t help it. Under me, Dalton goes rigid.

“What happened?” he says.

“Cherise happened,” I say, again keeping my voice light. “I got a bit of a scare, but…”

I want to fluff it off. But after a moment, I say, “We’ll need to keep an eye on her. She’s smart as hell, and twice as vicious.”

He nods. Says nothing, his nod tight as he holds in whatever he’s thinking, whatever he wants to say.

“Eric?” I say.

“I’m concerned about Owen,” he says. “That’s not underestimating Cherise. She’s a fucking cobra. She’s smart, though, like you said, so I get the sense she can be managed. Very, very carefully managed. With any luck, she’ll decide she doesn’t want to lose Rockton as a prospective trade partner. But Owen…”

He exhales, breath hissing through his teeth. “The way he was looking at you…” Dalton makes a face. “I don’t mean I’m jealous. None of that territorial bullshit. Men notice you. They pay attention. You don’t pay attention back. If anyone tries anything, you take care of it—you don’t need me to protect you. But Owen … Fuck.”