by Diana Palmer
“One bar,” he muttered, giving it back. “Didn’t you say that you have a car charger?”
“Yes, sir,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I’ll plug the phone in the minute we get to the car.”
He nodded. “Snow’s coming down again pretty heavily. You should go home.”
“We’ll pack up and leave right now,” Karina promised.
He searched her soft gray eyes. “Drive slowly,” he said, his voice deep with feeling. “Don’t take chances.”
“I won’t,” she promised.
“Make sure she does,” he told his daughter and grinned at her.
Janey skated up to the barrier and stepped onto the wood floor, to hug her dad tight. “You be careful, too. Make sure the pilot’s sober this time,” she added in a loud whisper.
“We don’t have that one anymore. I sent him to rehab,” he assured her.
She laughed. “Okay, Dad.”
“Both of you take care. I’ll only be away a couple of days, with any luck.”
“Okay,” Karina replied.
He looked at her for a few seconds too long for politeness. She fought another blush and tried to breathe normally as he tweaked Janey’s hair and walked out of the building.
“Honestly, that Lindy,” Janey sighed as they took off their skates and dried the blades before putting the cozies on them and zipping them into their respective bags. “I don’t know how Dad stands it. She’s never happy.”
“Some people never seem to be,” Karina agreed.
“You always are.”
Karina laughed. “I put on a very good front,” she explained. “No sense making other people feel miserable when I do.”
“And it takes fewer muscles to smile than it does to frown,” Janey added with a laugh.
“Good point.”
“Do you think we could come back tomorrow, if the weather’s no worse?” Janey asked.
“We’ll have to wait and see. I can drive in snow, but we’re going through some very narrow roads, and they’re mountain roads. You and I would make very sad pancakes.”
It took Janey a minute to get that. She laughed. “Yes, I think we would. I’m so glad I have you for a friend,” she added as they got to the car, having made a path to the car through newly fallen snow.
“I’m glad to have you for one as well,” she told the child with a gentle smile.
“Mrs. Meyer said I had potential,” Janey replied. She frowned as she put her bag in the back seat and got into the front seat beside Karina. “What’s potential?”
“It means you have promise,” Karina said as she started the car. “When you love a sport, you give more to it.”
“I love skating.”
“So do I.” She glanced at her companion. “But school comes first.”
Janey sighed. “Yes, I know. Okay. I have to earn skating with school. I get it.”
Karina laughed. “That’s one way of putting it,” she agreed.
* * *
BURT HAD A late supper on the table when they walked in.
“Pancakes and sausage,” he told them with a smile. “Just the thing for a cold, snowy night.”
“I love sausages,” Karina remarked.
“Me, too! And especially pancakes!” Janey seconded.
Burt just laughed. He knew that.
* * *
“I GOT DAD to order me some books on skating from Amazon,” Janey told Karina as they finished supper. “You know, the basic stuff. And there’s one on Olympic champions, too.”
Karina sighed. “I used to wear out the pages on my books about skating. I think all of them eventually became loose paper. I was obsessed with it.”
“Like me,” Janey chuckled. “It’s the most fun I’ve ever had in my life. When do you think Mrs. Meyer’s going to get that coach for the rink?”
“Pretty soon, I imagine. We’ll ask her when we go back—tomorrow, if the snow’s not too deep.”
“Oh, I hope it’s not too deep,” Janey said heavily. “I truly do!”
* * *
BUT IT WAS, much too deep for driving unless it was necessary. Dietrich begged to be let out the next morning. Karina was uncertain about that, because of the deep snow and the bear Micah had mentioned.
“He’ll be all right,” Burt assured her. “I’d hate to see anything that riled that dog.”
“Me, too.”
She opened the door. Dietrich hesitated. He whined. He was panting. It wasn’t hot in the house.
“Burt, do you think he’s all right? He’s acting a little odd.”
“I’ll call Billy Joe and have him come up and take a look.”
“I think that’s a good idea. Do you have to go out?” she asked the dog, patting his head.
He took a breath, which seemed to be labored. But he walked out into the snow. Karina closed the door, against her better judgment. He wasn’t acting normally.
Billy Joe had gone to town for essential supplies for the livestock. He promised Burt he’d come right up to the main house and check Dietrich as soon as he returned.
Janey was sleeping late. Burt was busy in the kitchen with breakfast. Karina got on her heavy coat and boots.
“I’m just going to go out and check on Dietrich,” she called.
“Okay. Got your phone?”
She rolled her eyes. “You and Mr. Torrance,” she laughed. She went back into her room and picked it up. She’d charged it overnight. “I’ve got it,” she said, and waved as she went outside.
But Dietrich was nowhere in sight. She called to him. No answering bark.
She looked around for dog prints and found them. They led down to the edge of the lodgepole pines that flanked the winding stream behind the house. She was careful as she went downhill, because there were sometimes hidden pockets that could throw someone, if they were careless.
Just as she reached level ground, she heard a high-pitched bark. Followed, closely, by an unmistakable deep growl. The sort of growl that a big bear would make.
CHAPTER SEVEN
KARINA’S HEART STOPPED. She had no weapon, and it sounded as if the bear was after Dietrich.
She looked around her and found a big stick, part of a fallen limb. She grabbed it up with her gloved hand, stood on it and broke it off, to make a pointed end, and walked toward the sound of the commotion.
When she got through to the clearing, she saw Dietrich lying down, panting and yipping. He looked as if he couldn’t get up, and standing over him was a brown bear the size of a small car.
It was, of course, insane to attack a bear. But she was fond of Dietrich, who was Janey’s pet, and she wasn’t letting him get savaged by a wild animal. She’d learned to bluff very well as she rose in skating ranks. Maybe she could bluff the bear if she didn’t show fear and didn’t back down. It might be the only chance the poor dog would have. He looked as if he couldn’t get up, and he was still whining and panting, and appeared to be incapacitated. There was no blood, but if the bear had slapped him hard enough, he might have internal injuries.
She heard noises nearby, but she ignored them. Her only focus was Dietrich and the bear. She had to save the dog.
“You leave him alone,” she yelled. She waved the stick and suddenly broke into a run, as fast as she could manage in the deep snow, right at the bear, waving the stick back and forth and yelling all the way.
The bear, startled, turned and actually ran away. She caught her breath. Well, it worked, she thought, and laughed out loud.
“And if that isn’t the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life!” came an amazed voice from behind her.
It was one of the cowboys. He was lean and rangy, dressed in jeans and boots and a thick shepherd’s coat, with a black Stetson tilted at an angle over his right eye. He was leading a horse by the reins.
“Somet
hing’s wrong with Dietrich,” she said at once. “The bear may have hit him...”
He went down on one knee beside the dog and felt his belly. He made a face. “Bloat. We need to get him to a vet right now.”
“Bloat?” she exclaimed. “But isn’t that something that horses and cattle get?”
“Them, and big dogs,” he replied.
“He was lying down when I saw him with the bear,” she said quickly. “I don’t know if the bear hit him or not.”
He shook his head. “I don’t see any blood.”
“Yes, but he could have internal injuries,” she said worriedly.
“All too true. We’ll hope for the best. I’ll ride him back to the house. Billy Joe’s on his way back from town, he can drive him to the vet.”
“Oh, poor baby,” she groaned, going on one knee to pet Dietrich. “Poor baby!”
“He’ll be fine,” he assured her. He bent and lifted the big dog as gently as he could. He had Karina hold the reins while he balanced Dietrich on the saddle, slid in behind him and then gently lifted the whining dog across his lap. “Not the best method of transport, but we use what we’ve got. And lucky for us that my horse doesn’t mind extra weight,” he laughed. “You stay close behind. That bear may come back.”
She hefted her stick. “Let him try,” she said angrily.
He chuckled.
* * *
BILLY JOE DROVE up to the steps just as the cowboy and Karina made it into the yard.
“Poor old fellow,” he groaned. “What happened?”
“Bloat, I think,” the cowboy said. “You need to get him to the vet right now.”
The cowboy handed Dietrich down to him.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Karina asked Billy Joe worriedly.
“It would help, if you could sit in the back seat and hold him,” the dog trainer replied, plainly worried.
She climbed into the back seat of Billy Joe’s SUV and let him slide the dog in, so that his head was resting in her lap. “There, there, Dietrich, it will be okay.”
Billy Joe closed the door and spoke briefly to the cowboy, who nodded and went into the house, presumably to tell Burt what had happened.
“There was a bear,” she said excitedly as Billy Joe got in under the wheel and cranked the vehicle. “I chased it off, but it may have slapped him. There wasn’t any blood that we could see, but he could still have internal injuries.”
“Sadly true,” Billy Joe said worriedly.
“He has to be okay,” she told Billy Joe as he turned the vehicle around and headed for the highway. “He just has to.”
“We’ll get him to the vet ASAP,” he said quietly. “Bloat’s tricky.”
“He was fine until just a few minutes ago, when we let him out,” she said.
“Good. Then maybe there’s time.”
He didn’t spare the engine getting them into Catelow, to the local vet. He carried the dog in and explained the emergency. They got him back into a treatment room in seconds.
Karina sat down in a chair in the waiting room, worried.
“What’s wrong with your dog?” a man holding a cocker spaniel asked gently.
She sighed. “Bloat,” she said.
He grimaced. “Nasty stuff. But if they catch it soon enough, it can be treated.”
She smiled. “He’d just started showing symptoms.”
“I had a black Lab who got it, before I had this one,” he indicated the old dog in his lap. “It was years ago. They tacked his stomach to his backbone and he lived a good while after. Nowadays, they attach the stomach to the stomach wall. Simpler and more effective.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Well, see, if they get bloat, the stomach turns over, cuts off the blood supply and tissue dies. Attach the stomach to the wall and it can’t turn over. They can still get bloat. They just don’t die from it.”
She caught her breath. “They can die?” she asked, horrified.
“If it just started, he’ll be fine,” he assured her. “My daughter’s a vet, over in Utah,” he told her. He chuckled. “I learned a lot while she was in college.”
She could imagine that he did. She forced a smile, but she was still uneasy. What would she tell Janey if the little girl came home from school to find out that her pet was dead? It was a tragedy in the making.
* * *
IT WAS A few tense minutes until Billy Joe came back out. He stopped by the receptionist and left his cell phone number and the house number. They promised to call with updates.
“How is he?” Karina asked as they went back out to the SUV.
“We won’t know until they operate. It could be a few hours,” he added with a heavy sigh. “We’d better get back home.”
“What do we tell Janey?” she worried.
“Nothing, until we have something to tell her.” He managed a smile. “We’ll just cross our fingers.”
Karina nodded.
* * *
KARINA DROVE JANEY to school, keeping up a flow of small talk and smiling, so that the child didn’t notice anything wrong. Later, when they had to tell her, they could, but no sense in spoiling her whole day when they weren’t certain of the outcome.
Burt and Karina had a simple lunch, both morose. The boss walked in as they were having second cups of coffee. He had on an overcoat that draped to his ankles. He looked worn under his dress Stetson.
His heavy eyebrows lifted. “Who died?” he asked, scanning their sad faces.
“Dietrich’s at the vet,” Burt said quietly. “He’s got bloat.”
Some unprintable words slipped out. “How?”
“Nobody knows what causes it,” Burt said, sadness in his tone. “Sometimes, it just happens.”
“He’s at the vet?”
“Yes,” Burt replied. “Billy Joe and Karina took him over. They’re operating now. They said it might be two or three hours before they’ll have something to tell us.”
“I’m going over there,” Micah said gruffly. “I promised to take Lindy to Las Vegas tonight to a show. If she calls, tell her we may have to postpone it.”
“Sure thing,” Burt said.
Micah went back out the door.
* * *
“SHE WON’T LIKE IT,” Burt said.
“What?”
“Having the dog put a stick in her spokes,” he said whimsically. “She doesn’t like animals very much.”
“That’s a shame,” Karina replied. “I like some animals more than I like some people,” she added with a wicked grin.
“Me, too. Dietrich’s tough,” he added. “I’d bet on him.”
“So would I. I just hate the waiting,” she added.
“Good time to put an edge on those skates of yours and Janey’s,” he said as he stood up and took the lunch dishes to the sink.
“How did you learn to do that?” she asked, following him to the back porch.
“What, sharpen skates?” He grinned. “Gets expensive when you have to have somebody do it for you.”
“I guess so.” She’d never given it much thought, because that service had been provided for her and Paul when they were in competition.
He got out his equipment and gave her a look. “The skates?” he suggested with a faint chuckle.
“Oh! The skates! Right.”
* * *
SHE BROUGHT BACK both pairs, hers and Janey’s, and sat down to watch him work. The spacious back porch was enclosed and heated. It wasn’t so much a work space as a living space, but Burt had claimed a corner for his tools.
“Janey said you landed a triple,” he reminded her.
She made a face. “It was a fluke. I didn’t plan it...”
He gave her a wise look. “I don’t know any beginners who can do a double, much less a triple, Karina
.”
She drew in a long breath. “Busted,” she murmured.
“You skate in competition, don’t you?”
“I did,” she confessed, “until I fell in practice and broke my ankle. It was a little more complicated, because I broke my leg three years ago as well. My landing leg.”
“The same leg, both times?”
“Yes.”
He made a face. “Need to be very careful,” he cautioned. “There has to be a weakness there, after so much damage, even if it’s repaired properly.”
“It was, both times. But one of the sports medicine doctors said that I should give up competition entirely.” She looked down. “I can’t. I just can’t. Now that I’m back on the ice, it’s like living the fantasy all over again. I can’t quit. Not until I’m sure that I have to.” She looked up. “Don’t tell on me, please.”
He cocked his head. “I don’t carry tales,” he assured her. He smiled. “Not that I’d ever be guilty of selling out Miranda Tanner,” he added with pursed lips.
She caught her breath. “You know who I am!”
He nodded. “I was in Sochi for the last Olympics. I didn’t compete, but I had a friend who did. Boss flew me over in the company jet, just for the event my friend was in. I thought the marks you and Paul got were grossly unfair. You skated a perfect program. Should have had the bronze, at least.”
She laughed. “Thanks.”
“Where is Paul?”
“He started out again with a new partner, but she quit in a huff. So now he’s got no partner, and he’s lost the chance to skate in world competition.”
“He’s got no partner, you’ve got no partner and Hilde Meyer is a coach with no skaters.” He lifted both eyebrows. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
She burst out laughing. “Well, it would be quite a matchup. Hilde had beautiful choreography for her skaters. But they wanted something more modern, so they ditched her. She came here and bought the local rink, so downhearted by their defection that she said she wouldn’t coach again.”
“Olympics are next year,” he said. “Nationals in January. Plenty of time, with enough practice.”
“If Paul comes up here to skate with me, the boss would find out.”
“And what do you think he’d do, fire you?” he asked. “He’s a fair man. Besides, Janey loves you.”