Chapter 2
Aspen
My cue toget out of bed and get my day started came in the form of my fifty-five-pound, blue merle Aussie, Molly.
First, a wet nose to the cheek.
Then a lick.
A groan followed.
When I proceeded to ignore her, she did what got me going fastest…she crawled onto the bed from the foot, missing all crucial body parts that would inflict pain, then proceeded to lavish me with morning doggy-breath kisses that had me giggling in five seconds flat, not to mention, forgetting the remnants of my earlier rude awakening.
“Okay, okay!” I laughed as I pushed her off me, unable to smile at those sweet two-toned eyes of hers. “I get it. You’re hungry, and you want to go see what you can hunt down for breakfast, even though we both know I give you far too much kibble already.” She sat pretty at my side, sheets in a tangled mess, and looked at me as though I was missing something. I was. “And I guess you’d love nothing more than to relieve that stressed bladder of yours too, huh?”
A bark was my reply, along with wildly shaking hind quarters due to her docked tail.
As soon as my feet touched the floor, Molly was out the door, claws clicking toward the front entrance to my tiny home. When she decided I wasn’t moving fast enough for her liking, a huff followed to signal her impatience as it always did.
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” I rubbed at my eyes, reaching for the lock on the front door, then turned the knob and pulled inward. Molly was out of sight within two-point-five seconds flat, the only thing left behind was a trailing bark of happiness.
Having settled in with a freshly brewed cup of coffee and a ham and cheese omelette, I’d managed to polish off half of my breakfast before I heard my pooch’s telltale thump on the front porch.
What had me curious, however, was the absence of pawing at my front door. Normally, by now, she’d want to eat, then get to her bed by the fireplace and curl up while I worked.
After five minutes passed, I grew even more curious, seeing as Molly had yet to signal her need to enter and devour her breakfast, as per her usual. I swear, I don’t need an alarm clock to tell me what comes next in my day. Molly does that for me.
Leaving my last half of burnt toast to the side, I chewed the sawdust-like bite, swallowed it as I headed to see what was going on, grabbing my trusty Timber Classic Marlin 336C—which always sat inside a hidden nook in the cabinet by the front door—and made my way out to the porch wielding my weapon. A woman alone in a cottage in the woods could never be too careful.
“Who’s there?” I shouted loud enough for someone in the remote vicinity of my sanctuary to hear me. “Show yourself!”
Molly came trotting from around the left side of the cottage, pausing to look behind her, then sat as if she was waiting on something...or someone. It wasn’t like her. In fact, Molly didn’t like strangers on her turf. She was highly protective of me and what we called our home. Hell, I’d had to shoot at a bear that came too close once because Molly thought she could take the damn thing on.
“Molly, come!”
The look of wanting to obey crossed her gaze as her eyes met mine, but she bowed her head and whined, then looked behind her again. Something told me whatever it was that had her attention wasn’t a threat, so I sat the rifle down against the wooden railing to the porch and went to my dog.
“What is it, girl?”
A whimper. Not from my dog, however.
Huh?
As soon as I reached the front left side of my cottage, Molly trotted toward a massive German shepherd that sat there expectantly. She licked his snout, then nuzzled his neck, then came to my side and sat prettily.
“Hey there,” I said calmly, then crouched down, noticing the dog had a collar on him, and some kind of harness to boot. Whoever’s dog this was, the owner hadn’t deserted him. “Come ‘ere.”
As soon as I’d said the words, the large ball of fur pounced on me, knocking me on my ass and killed me with whiny kisses. Molly hopped about, barking happily that her new friend and I were hitting it off.
“Off!” I commanded, albeit still gently, seeing that as friendly as this dog seemed to be, who knew how skittish he could be depending on what he’d been through.
The words were out, and the furry creature simply backed away, sat, and waited at attention.
Hmm.
“Stay,” I said, as I regained my feet and decided to check out his collar.
Renegade.
I stood up and looked him over. A male. Unneutered. No obvious injuries. He looked clean and well-groomed; nails perfectly trimmed too.
With one bark, he ran toward the woods.
“No!” I shouted.
He dropped to a sit, then got back up, motioning with his head toward the tree line. With a sad whine, he began pacing, but wouldn’t come back toward me. Then Molly trotted up to him and did what she always did best. She tried to console him in her own doggie way.
“Stay, guys,” I said firmly.
No sooner had I admired the affection shared between the two canines, and called my order, they darted into the woods barking.
Shocked at Molly’s defiance, my feet froze to the ground for a moment too long. As I set them in motion to follow, I realized I wasn’t quite dressed for a trek in the woods; and who knew how far I’d be going.
Making a dash for the front door, I traded my slippers for my running shoes, grabbed a sweater to cover up my thinning, strappy nightgown and headed back out.
Molly had returned, barking to get my attention.
“Where is he, girl?” I cooed as she nuzzled my hand. Something wasn’t right.
With one lick, she was off like a shot.
We had caught up to Renegade who had led us toward a rock face. To be honest, it hadn’t been that far from my cottage—only half an hour or so of zig-zagging through the woods. The cliff was maybe twenty feet up above my head in some spots. It’s a place I was familiar with, having come here to sit on the smooth bottom to work and sun myself in the bowels of nature when my cottage became a little too claustrophobic.
Some preferred a Starbucks, or even a library, but I would rather be one with Mother Nature. There was less judgment; fewer problems out here instead of dealing with civilization.
Bark.
As I looked toward where Renegade signaled from, I noticed a large lump of camouflage and black. It didn’t take me long to move forward where Renegade laid himself next to what I now assumed was his owner.
Clearly out cold, the massive man lay there in a crumpled lump. Not too far from him, I noticed an even larger lump, if that were possible. This one was full of hair, wore a red plaid shirt, and his hidden face seemed crushed, neck positioned at an unnatural angle. It didn’t take a genius to know the man-thing was no longer alive.
I shivered. That crumpled boulder of hair and limbs brought back far too many memories.
I have to get out of here.
Looking down, my hand reached of its own accord toward the seemingly sleeping man’s throat.
Renegade growled.
“Easy, boy,” I cooed. “I’m guessing this is your owner, huh? I’m just going to look him over, okay?”
He let out a whine which I took as permission.
Harness…frayed rope…carabiners. This guy must have been climbing the ledge up above.
And the dead body only fifteen feet over…
What the fuck happened here?
Using the training instilled in me since childhood—having physicians for parents sure came in handy—I palpated from his knees up, careful not to touch things that simply didn’t need feeling.
Everything looked good with his hips.
Then I did his arms. No broken wrists, a few abrasions on his inner palms and a missing nail on his right middle finger, which I equated to him possibly having tried to claw for a good grip to stop his fall.
By the time I got to his head however, I knew why this man was out. The goose egg on the back of his skull had ruptured and I felt the wetness of blood. Not a lot, but enough to have my stomach start to roll.
There’s a reason I never followed in my parents’ footsteps. The sight of blood and I never really meshed well.
If I moved him, I’d have to find something to staunch the bleeding.
Move him,are you crazy? This guy must be at least two hundred pounds of solid muscle.
I huffed a breath, clearing the stray strand of hair out of my face before reaching for my nightgown and ripping part of the bottom to serve as a makeshift bandage.
After checking his neck and upper back, I wrapped the cloth around his head and over the lump, hoping it would hold for the length of our hike back. I found myself admiring the strong lines of his jaw, full lips, the light scruff of hair on his face, matching his dirty blond hair, and wondered what color his eyes were under those relaxed lids of his. He was striking in a rough, manly kind of way.
Woman, get your head out of the gutter.
Shaking myself back from my musings to the task at hand, I got up to my feet and looked toward my two canine companions.
“Guys, I’m going to need your help for this.”
I swear Renegade gave me a nod in response.