TAKE A CHANCE (Chance Colorado Series)

by Mayhue, Melissa

  “Yes.” Susie sucked in her breath as Allie pressed on her ankle. “And by now, because I’m such a klutz, those damned coyotes are probably feasting on my poor baby for their dinner.”

  “That’s not happening.” Not on her watch. Not after all that old dog had done for her mother. “I’ll go find him. We’ll get you back into the house and get some ice on that ankle and then I’ll go find Grainger and bring him home for you.”

  She helped Susie to stand on one foot and, wrapping her mother’s arm around her neck, acted as a crutch to help with the trip back to the house.

  “Did it seem like we’d come this far from the house to you?” Allie asked, doing her best to keep her mother’s spirits up when they stumbled.

  Susie gave her a strained smile, perspiration popping out on her forehead with the effort she exerted. “No, but I was a little more nimble on the way out.”

  When they finally reached the deck, Susie waved toward one of the folding chairs. “This is good enough. I just want to get my foot up.”

  Allie hurried inside and quickly returned with a pillow to put under her mom’s foot and a bag of ice to place on top.

  “There. I’ll get dressed and then I’ll go hunt for Grainger.”

  “Thank you, sweetie. I do love that stubborn old dog. Losing him would be like losing a part of me. I don’t know what I’d do.”

  That was exactly what concerned Allie.

  “Try not to worry, Mom. I’ll take care of it.”

  Minutes later, she was ready, armed only with a bottle of water and a vague idea of the direction in which Susie had last seen the dog headed. She kissed the top of her mom’s head and hopped off the deck for the second time that morning.

  “Could you call over to the Hand and let the girls know I won’t be in?”

  “I will,” Susie called after her. “Wait a minute! Don’t you want to take the shotgun along with you? I know for a fact there’s coyotes out there. I’ve seen them myself.”

  Shotgun? Not a good idea at all.

  “Did you forget which of your kids you’re talking to?” Allie shook her head, sending a disapproving look her mother’s direction. “Sending me off with a gun is just begging to get your dog shot. Or your daughter. Or, more likely, both of us.”

  “And just what do you think you’ll do if you run into a pack of those beasts?” Susie struggled to roll herself off the chair where she sat.

  “Sit down, Mom,” Allie ordered, backtracking up the steps. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll take that old walking stick Mama Odie gave me when I used to go on walks with her and the twins. I saw it in the storage shed the other day. One good smack with that should give pause to any creature that comes my way.”

  “Better that than nothing, I guess,” her mother grumbled, resettling herself in the deck chair. “And you take your cell phone, too.”

  Allie nodded her agreement, knowing that the phone would be worthless once she got up into the canyon. They were lucky to get reception here in town, and, unless things had changed drastically from what she remembered, there would be little chance of service back in those hills.

  “You don’t know how much this means to me, Allie. I can always count on you. You’re so take-charge and independent. I wish I’d been more like you when I was your age. I really admire you for never being too timid to just do what needs to be done.”

  Allie considered asking her mom once again if she’d forgotten which of her offspring she was speaking to, but settled for a grin instead.

  “Thanks, Mom. I won’t let you down.”

  A few minutes later, her mother placated, she set off again, determined to bring her mother’s faithful companion back.

  An all-day hike into the backcountry tracking an ill-behaved old dog was the last thing she’d planned for herself today. But there was no way she was going to let anything bad happen to that dog. She didn’t want to think about what kind of relapse her mother might suffer from an emotional jolt like losing Grainger.

  Damn stubborn dog. If he simply would have returned when Susie called him, they wouldn’t be worrying themselves sick about him right now.

  Allie pounded the walking stick she carried into the ground with each step she took, pleased that she’d brought it with her. It was turning out to be a good means of releasing some of the pent-up frustration bubbling inside her this morning.

  She felt as if she’d reached another turning point in her life. The elusive, shiny, gold-wrapped chocolate of happiness was so close to her grasp, she could almost taste it. It was dangling there, just out of her reach. And every single time she tried to grab it, some fresh new turmoil swirled around her to keep her from her goal.

  From Shayla’s flirting with Logan, to his confiding his issue with deceit, right up to Grainger’s running away this morning, there always seemed to be something blocking her from moving forward to capture what she wanted in life.

  “And who has the power to change that?” she asked the rocks and bushes around her. “I do, that’s who!”

  It was time for her to attempt to be that take-charge, independent woman her mother thought she was. Past time, in fact.

  The whole jealousy/trust thing she struggled with might take some time, but she was determined to work on it. As far as stressing over how Logan would react to what she’d done in the past, there was only one way forward. She would clear the air with him the very next time she saw him, no matter what the circumstances. No more stressing over what he’d think or what he’d do. There were only two things that could happen. He’d either accept it or not. And either way, she could finally stop carrying that old baggage around with her, once and for all.

  But first up on her Taking Charge list was finding Grainger and getting him home safely.

  She stopped, hand raised to shield her eyes from the bright sun, and called the old dog’s name.

  “Grainger!”

  Closing her eyes, she concentrated on listening, hoping for some sound to guide her.

  Nothing.

  Her only course was to continue to follow the worn trail she was on, honed out over the years by elk and other animals coming down from the backcountry. Her hope was that Grainger had chosen the easiest path rather than forging out through the weeds that would have been higher than his head in many places.

  A few steps ahead, on a small, prickly bush that jutted out into the pathway, a fuzzy brown clump caught her eye.

  Fur!

  Allie squatted by the plant and pulled the fur off, carefully avoiding the thorns. She rolled it between her fingers and lifted it tentatively to her nose.

  The smell of dirt tickled her senses, and three sneezes later, she was forced to laugh at her inept tracking abilities. Like she even knew why she was smelling it—other than that was what they always did on television.

  Without any real tracking abilities, she would simply have to rely on logic. The fur was the same color as Grainger's. It was caught at a height that would have been about right for the old dog wobbling along the path. It was all she had to go on, so she was taking it as a sign. She was on the right trail.

  The sun shone brightly overhead now, beating down, making her glad she’d opted for shorts instead of jeans. Poor Grainger must be melting out here in his heavy fur coat.

  She stood and scanned the distance, seeing and hearing nothing more than a few birds in the trees ahead of her. One quick sip from her water bottle and she was off again, convinced now that this hunt was going to take all day.

  * * *

  “Maybe she let the battery on her phone run down.”

  “Maybe,” Logan halfheartedly agreed, casting a doubtful look in Tanner’s direction.

  That didn’t seem like something Allie would do. In his experience, she was more than a little obsessive when it came to details like that. But there had to be some reason she wasn’t answering his calls or returning his messages for the last hour.

  “What? You think she’s just not answering?” Tanner paused to
scrub his face and hair with a towel before continuing. “I’d find that pretty hard to believe based on how the two of you have been getting along. Why not run over to the Hand and check it out? I could use some decent coffee after the night we had.”

  Coffee sounded pretty good to Logan, too. It had taken until well into the wee hours of the morning to get the fire out at the Webster place. And several more hours for the cleanup. They’d been lucky to hold the damage down to just two outbuildings. Most of that rundown ranch was little more than piles of tinder. He’d have to remember to talk to Cody to see if there might be something the sheriff’s office could organize to help that old couple get the weeds and rubble close to the main house cleaned up.

  But all that would have to wait until later today. Right now, all he wanted was to hear Allie’s voice. He needed to satisfy himself that she was okay with his running out on her last night. Especially since his departure had come at a rather… inopportune time.

  With all the grime of the night’s work showered away, he grabbed his hat and followed Tanner out to the parking lot.

  “You want to take separate rides?” Tanner grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. “In case you want to stay longer or take off to finish your interrupted dinner date. Since it is, you know, technically your weekend off and all?”

  Logan returned the grin. Weekend off was always a relative term when you were the second man on a two-man team. When the fire call came in, they were both on duty.

  “Yeah, that might be a good idea.”

  He pulled into the lot next to the coffee shop only a minute ahead of Tanner, but he was out of his vehicle and through the front door in record time.

  “Hey, Logan!” Dulcie greeted as he stepped inside. “You want the usual?”

  “Yes, thanks.” He needed that coffee today. “Might as well set one up for Tanner, too. He’s on his way in. Allie around?”

  Dulcie shook her head as she poured the coffees. “There was some kind of problem with Grainger this morning that kept her home. As a matter of fact, I was going to run over there in a few minutes to take Aunt Susie a sandwich. You want me to give Allie a message?”

  “I have a better idea. Make my coffee to go and I’ll be your delivery boy. How’s that?”

  If Allie was ignoring his calls, she might ignore any message he sent along with her cousin, too.

  “That’s excellent,” Dulcie replied with a grin, handing over the coffee and a sandwich she’d already wrapped. “Coffee’s on the house for saving me a load of time. You can just go round back when you get there. Aunt Susie said she’d be out on the deck. Oh, since Allie’s not there, could you remind Aunt Susie not to forget her meds?”

  Since Allie’s not there…

  If she wasn’t at work, and she wasn’t at home, then something must be very wrong. Logan shoved the sandwich into his shirt pocket before he climbed into his pickup, his mind already a few miles down the road.

  He found Susie on the back deck, just as Dulcie had said he would. Her eyes were closed, her face red and blotchy, leaving him no doubt she’d been crying. His stomach tightened and the few sips of coffee he’d managed to swallow on the way over here threatened to reappear. Something awful must have happened.

  “Susie?”

  Though he called her name softly, the woman sat bolt upright, her fingers clinched around the arm of her chair.

  “Oh, Logan, it’s you. I thought Allie might have come back.”

  “What’s going on? Where is she?”

  “She’s gone to find my baby.” Fresh tears rolled down Susie’s cheeks unchecked. “Or what’s left of him after the coyotes have at him. He got away from me this morning and headed for the backcountry.”

  It was the dog in trouble. Only the dog, not Allie.

  “But she’s been gone so long, I’m starting to lose hope we’ll ever find him.”

  The pressure that had been dissipating in Logan’s chest slammed back at full force. “How long?”

  “At least three, maybe four hours.”

  He’d need water. He ran back out front to his pickup and pulled his rescue pack, with its freshly filled canteen, from behind the seat and strapped it around his waist before returning to the back deck.

  “Which way did she go?”

  Susie pointed toward the hills behind their property. “Same direction Grainger went, up Papa Flynn’s hunting trail. You’ll want to hurry, though, Logan. Looks like there’s an afternoon storm building to roll in over the mountains.”

  Her description of where Allie had gone told him all he needed to know. No wonder she hadn’t returned his call. That trail wound its way into some rough mountain backcountry where there was no hope of cell service. He’d traveled into that area many times with Matt and Danny. Back in high school, the three of them had camped up there one weekend in an old hunting cabin Harley Flynn had built several decades ago.

  Logan placed a quick call to Tanner to advise him of the situation before he got too far in and lost his cell service. This wasn’t the sort of thing you did without letting someone know where you were going.

  “I just heard on the scanner that they’re tracking a big-assed storm headed our way. Dropping temps, high winds, heavy lightning, the works. If we get the kind of rain they’re predicting, there could be some local flooding, too. At the very least, you’re going to find some treacherous footing if you’re up there too long. Coming down after dark could be a serious mistake,” Tanner warned.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t try to make it back down after the sun sets. If worst comes to worst, I… we can spend the night in Harley’s hunting cabin.” It would be we. There was no way he wasn’t going to find Allie. The problem would be finding her and getting back before dark.

  He remembered a shortcut or two to hasten his trek up the hill. At least, he hoped he could remember the way to find the shortcuts. They were his best hope for catching up with Allie. No matter. Shortcuts or no, if Allie had stayed anywhere close to the trail, he’d find her.

  And when he did, he intended to give her a damn good piece of his mind for taking off into the wilderness like that all by herself.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Thunder rumbled in the distance and Allie halted her progress once more. The sky looked even more threatening than it had only minutes before.

  “Just great,” she grumbled, taking a moment to lean against a big tree.

  It wasn’t bad enough that her stomach was rumbling almost as loudly as the approaching thunder or that she was out of practice hiking in this altitude, leaving her with just about zero energy, or that she still hadn’t found Grainger. Now, on top of everything else, it was going to storm.

  “Just freakin’ great,” she said, louder this time.

  No doubt about it, before long she would be one miserable woman. Rain in the high country almost always meant a big drop in temperature, so these shorts that she’d been so pleased with herself for wearing were very quickly going to become something she wasn’t the least bit pleased to have worn.

  She briefly considered turning around and trying to beat the approaching storm, but there was really no chance she could do that. So, since she hadn’t found the dog yet, and she was going to get wet no matter which way she went, she might as well keep going the direction she was headed.

  She pushed off the tree and started forward again, glancing down in time to find another clump of fur snarled around another little bush. This was the fifth time she’d made such a find and, while it gave her hope she was still on the right trail to find Grainger, she was beginning to picture her mother’s little dog as being bald when she did finally catch up with him.

  Her only consolation at this point was that a bald Grainger was going to be every bit as cold and miserable as she would be when those rains hit.

  “Grainger!” she yelled for what felt like the millionth time.

  She’d been at this for hours. If the coyotes didn’t finish off the contrary little half-bald furball, she just might be
tempted to do it herself if she ever found him.

  “When, not if,” she muttered, angry that she’d allowed doubt to creep into her thoughts.

  She couldn’t afford to doubt her success now. Not with her mom counting on her to bring Grainger home, safe and sound.

  Another boom of thunder rolled through the sky, and in the seconds of silence that followed the ominous noise, Allie could swear she heard something like a whimper.

  “Grainger,” she called, more quietly this time. “You out here, baby dog?” It sure had sounded like him.

  Slowly, she moved away from the trail, pushing through the thick underbrush with her feet, searching. If she ended up with ticks on her bare legs because of this, she was going to…

  Another rumble of thunder, followed by another whimper. And a rustle in the underbrush just ahead.

  Slowly, cautiously, she extended her walking stick to push aside the branches and leaves. There, in a small depression under a web-covered juniper bush, she found a bundle of shivering brown fur.

  It would have to be a juniper, testing her last bit of reserve. She hated the spreading green spider-houses, hated the thought of having to reach her hands in there, but the little terrier obviously was in no shape to come out of his hiding place on his own.

  Forcing back her own fears, she reached inside and snagged Grainger, pulling him out, expecting the worst. To have crawled off into a hole like that, he must be hurt.

  He didn’t resist when she cuddled him close, but he was shaking like an aspen leaf on a windy day. Thunder rumbled once more and he shook even harder.

  How could she have forgotten? This little guy was brave enough to face down a bull elk. He had, as a matter of fact, done exactly that years ago, chasing the massive beast right out of their yard. But thunderstorms? Thunderstorms terrified him senseless.

  “We all have our failings, don’t we, big guy?” she soothed, scratching behind his ear as he pressed his body against her chest. “Don’t you worry. You’re okay. I’ve got you now and you’re going to be just fine. I’ll take care of you.”