“I see. A hired gun.”
“I am just fulfilling my obligations to my daughter.”
“Spare me.”
“What do you say?”
He was silent for a while, trying to get a grip on his emotions. Finally, he sighed.
“I am going to need a little time to think. And Kari's more than old enough to have a say in this. You'll have to spell out her options. Go ahead, practice on me.”
She sat back in her chair and frowned.
“I don't see many options for Kari. She can't live with us. I cannot do that to Henry. He is being more than generous already. My parents can't take her on, at least not for any length of time. You know my sister is in no condition to do it. I know of no one else who could take her.”
“So it is either me or foster care?”
“Of course not. I am not a monster. I was thinking of boarding schools. Henry might be willing to have her for a while in the summer, or send her to some summer camps.”
“Maybe a tennis academy.”
“Don't be cynical. It did you a lot of good.”
“Ah yes, and it didn't hurt you any, either.”
“When will you let me know?”
“I don't know. There's a lot to consider. I need to talk with Kari, and so do you. Another rejection is not going to help matters.”
“It is not a rejection. It is a continuation of the status quo.”
“Which has always been based on the assumption that you were going to make a home for the kids. For all of them.”
“I am sorry if she's disappointed. But in the long run it will be the best thing for her, too. She isn't terribly fond of me right now.”
“This is a surprise?”
She shrugged, and for the first time he saw some emotion in her face.
“This past year has just about killed me. I couldn't handle all that and Kari, too. What she wanted from me I didn't have to give. I have lost her. You know that and I know that. I've grieved for her, but it's done, and we need to get on with our lives.”
“It wouldn't be impossible to win her back.”
“I can't do it, Kitt. Not with my new life making demands on me, and the little ones adjusting to a new situation. I admit defeat with Kari. All I can do is make the best arrangements for her that I can.”
“I don't understand you, Laura.”
She rose.
“You don't have to. Just consider my proposition.”
He drove home in a fog. Kari was at a sleepover for the volleyball team at the home of her coach, so he loaded Thor in the Suburban and drove out as far up the mountain road as his four-wheel drive would take him.
“Come on, boy, let's give it a go before the sun is gone.”
It was still fall in the valley, but up here the season had changed and as they climbed higher the craggy cliffs protruded from the eiderdown of winter. They plowed through the deep snow, sliding down slopes and struggling uphill through massive drifts. He knew these mountains well and avoided the steep cliff edges, staying instead in the rolling hills and on the lower slopes ringing the towering peaks of the Washuiq Range. Thor bounded ahead, his creamy coat blending with the background of boulders and snow. Kitt chased after him breathlessly and Thor let him get close, then shot away around the crest of the hill and down the other side, with Kitt in hot pursuit. The dog's exuberant bark rang around the hills, bouncing off the cliff sides in buoyant echoes. The snow was well above Kitt's knees now, and sweat dripped on his parka, freezing like tiny pearls on the fake fur ruff of the hood. It felt like running at the bottom of the ocean, except that his legs got heavier and heavier as he threw all his energy and every ounce of muscle power into his effort to catch up.
What will she do when she finds out her mom's dumping her? How can I dump her, too? But now I'd have to be a dad—
The sun tucked itself in fluffy down comforters, leaving a pink haze over shattered crystal. Thor was nowhere to be seen. Panting, he stood to catch his breath. They'd wound up a lot higher than he'd intended. His whistle screeched against the bare cliffs across the valley and ricocheted back. Straining his ears, he heard nothing but a breeze around the summit. Again and again he whistled. Suddenly alarmed, he began to track the dog, following his paw prints around yet another outcropping and farther uphill, standing still every few minutes to whistle and listen. In the gathering darkness he resisted the urge to use his flashlight. Better make the most of what daylight was left.
The tracks abruptly vanished at the edge of a crevasse. Had he jumped across? Kitt tried in vain to pierce the darkness with his eyes, and reluctantly switched on the flashlight, playing the beam of brilliance across the ravine. The opposite side was sheer rock, rising at least fifty vertical feet before receding into a gently sloping plateau. His heart pounded heavily in his chest as he directed the light downward into the icy chasm. He couldn't see far down, but the tracks in the snow told him what he needed to know. In his excitement the dog had been unable to stop in time and crashed into the gorge.
“Thor! Thor!” he called out.
No answer. Again his whistle rang out, sweet and piercing. When the echoes died down he thought he heard something, a groan, a cough, something alive. Was it his imagination? Another whistle brought the tiniest bark, bleeding out into a weak whimper.
“Stay, Thor, stay!” he shouted into the crevasse, and again he heard the faint response.
He turned off the flashlight to conserve the battery and readjust his eyes to the fading light. Only a few crimson streaks across the far skies bore evidence of the sun's path beyond the horizon.
The dog was hurt. If he had been all right, he would either have made his way out or let out a loud, impatient bark. The snow had changed the landscape's contours and shrouded the landmarks, and he couldn't be sure exactly where he was. He could let himself down into the gorge at the risk that they'd both be trapped, with no one knowing where to look for them. He'd left his cell phone on the charger at home. Better reconnoiter a little and get the lay of the land.
“Good dog, Thor. I'm coming, boy! Stay!” he repeated. For more than an hour he tried to find a place where he could safely descend, but the edges of the ravine fell off sharply, a rocky, inhospitable bluff that would require rappelling gear. After a while the cliffs rose straight up on his side of the chasm, and he could neither see nor guess at the direction in which it continued, if at all. Turn back then, and try the other direction. It led around a boulder-strewn plateau. Carefully he made his way back. It had started snowing, and the pawprints were now barely visible. Kitt kicked as much snow out of the way as he could so that his own tracks would not be obliterated, but he soon realized it was energy wasted. Snowflakes the size of ping-pong balls started coming down in cool, heavy curtains. The wind began to pick up, too. He had to find a way to rescue Thor soon, or they'd both be spending the night in the mountains.
Feeling his way with one foot he lost his balance and slid forty feet down the slope before he could stop. On hands and knees he climbed back, and resumed his circling of the huge outcropping, which made a semicircle around the rim of the chasm. Unless a more gradual descent from this side was feasible, he'd have to find access at a lower elevation. What if the crevasse didn't open up anywhere? If it did, it could be miles away, and he was almost certain to get lost in the near-whiteout conditions. The only reasonable thing to do was to get back to the truck while he could still find it, and wait till morning.
But Thor was hurt, no telling how bad. By morning he could be dead. In the truck were blankets, first-aid supplies, a powerful flashlight with batteries, some ropes, food, and a makeshift stretcher. It took two hours to reach the vehicle and load up. As an afterthought he stuffed a couple of survival bars and some extra batteries in his pockets, and took a drink from the canteen before he ventured back into the darkness.
An experienced hiker, he was able to retrace his steps. He had dug away snow from the more sheltered places under overhanging rocks to mark his way, and afte
r a long battle with the treacherous footing and the swirling snowdrifts he found himself back by the gorge. His whistle brought no response.
Again he began circling the outcropping, gusts of winds lashing his face and whipping up white whirlpools. It was nearly midnight.
Time became a blur as he pushed himself forward, straining against shuddering gusts as he battled to keep his footing on steep slopes and at the edge of ravines. It took nearly two more hours to reach the edge of the plateau. Below him gaped the crevasse. He raised two fingers to his lips and whistled down into the black emptiness at his feet, listening desperately for Thor. After the third whistle there was a faint growl. His heart jumped in his throat: It was closer by than before. Either the chasm was emptying out onto the slope below him, or Thor had made progress. He was betting on the former.
“Good dog, Thor, good dog! Talk to me, boy. I'm coming!”
He followed the edge till his flashlight picked up the floor of the crevasse now only some twenty feet below. He carefully climbed down the side and called Thor's name. Almost immediately he heard the dog's whimper not far away.
“Good boy! Tell me where you are.”
A few minutes later he spied movement in a dark recess. Thor's eyes shone like fluorescent coal in the beam of his flashlight.
“Thor! Thor!”
He knelt down by the shivering dog lying in a niche in the rock wall, out of the snow. His left hind leg dangled when he tried to get to his feet, and dried blood matted his fur on one side. Scraped down the side of the cliff, Kitt suspected. The joint looked swollen, and he quickly immobilized it with an improvised splint.
“You're going to need a cast when the swelling is gone, buddy,” he told the dog, whose tail began to wag slowly at the sound of his voice. “Watch this, Thor. We'll make a sled for you. Better ice that leg, too.” He lined the bottom of the improvised stretcher with a folded blanket, and carefully lifted the big dog onto it.
“Down, Thor. Lie down,” he ordered when the dog tried to get to his feet. Obediently, he lay down. Kitt tested the sled by pulling it a few feet back and forth. The floor of the crevasse was littered with rocks protruding through the snow, and he knew the going would be easier in the deep snow outside. He wrapped the dog in a heavy blanket and secured the bundled-up animal to the stretcher with the aid of his rope. Thor's eyes did not leave him for a moment, and his irrepressible tail twitched under the blanket. Kitt had no illusions, however. He needed a veterinarian fast.
“Here we go, boy.”
It took every bit of strength he could muster to pull the heavy dog up the slope and over the edge of the chasm. He braced himself against the blizzard, straining every muscle to slow the pull of the sled as they inched down the mountainside. Probing for a foothold, he held back the sled, allowing it to slide with every other step to keep control of its momentum. Step by step they slid and slipped down the slope, the pull rope cutting into Kitt's shoulders through the bulk of his parka. After an hour he dropped to his knees in the snow.
“Down, boy. We'll take five.”
He breathed deeply, stretching his cramping muscles. Good thing he'd been conditioning. This was a workout. How much farther was it? He tried to look at his watch, but it was too much trouble to get to it, and he abandoned the effort. It had taken about two hours to get to the Suburban, and longer than that to get back and around to the entrance to the crevasse. Another hour getting the dog ready for the trip, and it must now be about an hour since they had started out. Maybe around three in the morning, give or take an hour. Be home by nine or so. Did the vet have office hours on Saturday? Thor seemed groggy, and he didn't like the looks of it.
He struggled to his feet, and a few tries got the sled moving again. For a while they traveled on fairly level terrain and made good progress although in most places the snow was deep. Stepping carefully, trying to ease the motion of the sled as he went, he slowly made his way through the foothills.
“I would pick a miniature horse for a dog,” he said aloud, and he saw a slight twitching under the blanket.
“Tail still working, that's good.”
The trail led around a huge boulder, and he had to make a sharp turn to the left to stay on it. He braced himself for a sheer drop-off on the right, digging in the heels of his boots to counter the pull of gravity as the sled swung slowly around the curve. As he rounded the turn a howling gale blasted him in the face and gripped the sled, sending it crashing into the darkness.
“Thor!”
Staggering, he fought for his balance as he began to lose control. Rocks jutting out of the snow ripped his parka and cut his hands and face as he hurtled down the slope. A sharp pain knifed through his left knee, and then a furry, woolly cloud settled about him, tucking him into oblivion.
Daylight was creeping over the skyline when he felt his knee again, and with an anguished moan sat upright. The flashlight was still strapped to his wrist, but the batteries were dead. He carefully stretched every muscle, assessing the damage. His knee was on fire and his head throbbed, but otherwise he seemed okay. He was freezing cold, and a cautious inspection revealed a number of cuts, but nothing else. His parka was shredded on one side and down the back, and one boot had a big rip down the side.
Where was Thor? It was still too dark to see much. He pulled a pressure bandage out of his pocket and wrapped it as best he could around the sore knee, gritting his teeth in agony. A couple of batteries from his breast pocket restored the flashlight to action and revealed the sled no more than thirty feet away. The makeshift stretcher had evidently righted itself and slid more than fallen, and the dark bundle was still safely roped in, but Thor wasn't moving and didn't respond to his voice.
“Thor! Talk to me, Thor!”
Did he see movement under the blanket? It took an agonizing ten minutes for him to pull himself to Thor's side. He slid his hand under the blanket and stroked the dog's head. He seemed to wake from a deep sleep, and gave a drowsy growl, but the familiar tweak of his tail under the blanket was a reassuring sight.
“We've got to get out of here, boy,” he told the dog. “Wake up, you lazy bum. I am doing all the work here. Don't you go and get hypothermia on me.”
Maybe he was in shock. He had to get him to a vet, and himself to a doctor for that knee. Probably nothing serious. It wasn't his first knee injury.
He tied the rope around his waist and tried to get to his feet, but the knee buckled under him, and he doubled up in pain. On his hands and one knee he began to crawl toward the trail. It couldn't be too far, and the slowly increasing daylight would help. The wind had died down somewhat and it had stopped snowing. If he could just get Thor into the Suburban, they'd have the battle won. For a moment that thought unnerved him. How was he going to lift the big dog into the truck if he couldn't stand up?
Play one point at a time. Move. Get warm. He clawed at the snow, at branches within his reach and rocks he could get a grip on, pulling himself forward by inches as he clutched his torn gloves to protect his fingers. After every few feet he tugged at the sled, bracing himself with one foot as he pulled it toward him. Thor was beginning to stir, and he kept talking to the dog to reassure him.
He dragged his throbbing knee through the snow, grateful for the icing. The survival bars had given him a little energy, but he knew he'd burned up a lot more than he'd taken in. Thor had sniffed at the pieces he'd offered him, but the big dog hadn't eaten any. His biggest worry was internal hemorrhage and infection. How long had it been since the accident? Ten, fourteen hours? His fears gave him new momentum, and he moved steadily ahead, grateful for the faint daylight. His watch was busted from the fall, but he could guess it had to be around seven or eight. What time did it get light up here this time of year? After a while he had to rest again, packing snow around his knee and exercising his feet and fingers to keep them from stiffening up.
Kari was due back by ten or so, and he'd never left without letting her know he'd be gone. Was she worrying? What am I going to tell yo
u? It's official—you're locked out of her life. Her plans don't include you. I bet she hasn't told Henry about the rape. And she's trying to bribe me to keep you. There wasn't much time, either. It wasn't fair to Kari to keep her in the dark.
Shortcuts across the more hazardous crests would cut the distance almost in half, but his injured knee forced him to circle the hills instead, losing precious time. Drawing on every muscle of his pain-racked body to drag the sled up a small hill, he was seized by panic as he began to slide backward. Not again, please, not again!
His right foot found a brief toehold on a rock and he managed to steady the sled before the boulder gave and began to move. His teeth clenched, sweat dripping off his face, every muscle cramping and quivering he labored to resist the downward pull of the sled. He kicked and slashed at the air, then miraculously found a purchase for his foot in the hole left by the loose rock. A stabbing pain shot through his ankle but he refused to relax it and let go of the sled. Panting and groaning, he clasped the sled ropes around his shoulders.
God, if you are there, please help me now! Are you even listening?
Convulsed and crying out in pain, he rolled his body forward in a tortuous spasm, yanking the sled up and over the edge of a boulder where it was perched. Suddenly the pain seemed to drain out of him as he sank face down in the snow. Thor whimpered a little, sensing his agony. For a long, long time he lay quietly, trying to decide whether to move. It was an agonizing decision and he couldn't focus on it. The stillness was soothing, and even the winds eddying around the peaks that dipped and swiped at him with swishes of miniature icicles no longer disturbed him. Maybe he'd lie here a while and then think again about getting up. Through slits of his half-closed eyes he saw the blanket move, and he tried to shake it out of his consciousness. What was it he had to think about?
“Down, boy,” he mumbled drowsily. “Down. Stay.”
Thor struggled against the ropes that immobilized him, whining softly. Kitt opened his eyes briefly, closed them again. It was too soon to make a decision. Who cared about time? It was Saturday. Maybe even Sunday, but that was all right, too. Think about it later.
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