Then came Antonia, a physician, and Carine, a nature photographer who knew the White Mountains at least as well as Gus did. Maybe better.
He hadn’t imagined them.
“We weren’t going back down the mountain without you,” Nate said, his voice catching. “I wasn’t losing you before my baby boy gets to know you.”
Gus sank against the wet rock wall. “I’m worn-out,” he said, “and I’m cold.”
Nate nodded to the fugitive. “What did he want?”
“Gold.”
“And a dead marshal. You didn’t tell him he had the wrong guy?”
“You weren’t the right guy, either.”
A search-and-rescue team arrived with stretchers and made Gus get on one, but he climbed off after a hundred yards and walked the rest of the way down off the ridge.
It was dark and cold, the sky clear, when Gus and his nephew and nieces and their spouses and little ones gathered at the Cold Ridge lakeside home of a federal judge. Her name was Bernadette Peacham, and Gus had known her since kindergarten. She hardly spoke as he helped her get a pile of blankets from the shed and spread them out on a tarp laid on the wet ground in front of her big outdoor stone fireplace. A fire was roaring. There were marshmallows and hot cocoa.
Beanie, as Gus had called Bernadette for decades, dried off an old Adirondack chair. “You could have died up there,” she said as she plopped down. “If Nate hadn’t spotted your trail... I don’t want to think about it.”
“All’s well that ends well.”
The fugitive’s name was Frank Leonard. Two years ago, Nate had recognized him at a hardware store in the village of Cold Ridge. His mug shot was on the USMS Web site, and Nate had a good memory for faces. Leonard was wanted for failing to appear in court on a federal drug charge, and running in to Nate was especially bad timing for him—he’d just killed a fellow smuggler up on the ridge. They’d met there to divide the gold bars they’d received as payment for smuggling drugs and arms over the Canadian border.
Picking the toaster-looking rock formation near the spot where Nate’s parents had died had been Leonard’s idea. On the way down the ridge, restrained in his stretcher, he’d told Gus that even then he didn’t like marshals. “They’d been after me for weeks. They never let up. I thought it was funny, picking that spot.”
Funny.
He and his partner in smuggling argued, and Leonard killed him and buried him as best he could, then hiked back down the ridge to clean up loose ends. The gold bars were heavy and awkward, and he wanted to get his ducks in a row before he went back on the ridge, fetched the gold and disappeared, a rich man.
Only Nate had discovered him first.
When he escaped from prison two days ago, he headed straight to Cold Ridge, but he couldn’t remember how to get back to the spot where he’d buried his colleague and the gold.
And he wanted revenge against the marshal who’d recognized him. He couldn’t believe his luck when he spotted Gus on the trail and mistook him for Nate.
Bernadette picked up a long, sharp-ended stick as Gus settled into the chair next to her. For a while, he’d wondered if he’d ever get warm again. But he was downright hot now, the flames licking up in the black sky.
“Why did you go off on your own this morning?” Bernadette asked.
“I had something on my mind. Beanie, these guys...” He motioned toward Nate, Antonia, Carine, their spouses, their children. “They’re my world.”
“I know, Gus. You’ve been there for them all these years. It was good that they could be there for you today.”
“I’d have nailed that bastard one way or the other, but I was pretty cold. And that’s not what I’m talking about right now.” Gus turned to her, the flames flickering in her eyes. “Beanie, we’ve known each other a long time, you and I, and I haven’t had a romantic thought about you, ever.”
She gave a shocked little cough. “Thanks a lot.”
“Until lately. Now I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“So you went up that trail this morning to get me out of your mind?”
“No. To figure out how to ask you to marry me.”
“Ah.” She picked up a stick and stabbed a fat marshmallow onto the end of it. “You asked me to marry you when we were in the first grade. Remember?”
Actually, he didn’t. “What did you say?”
“I told you to go soak your head.” She smiled and handed him her stick with the marshmallow. “You’re my hero, Gus. You always have been. It’s just taken us a few decades to figure out we belong together.”
“I’m taking that as a yes.”
Bernadette laughed, and Gus leaned forward and dipped the marshmallow in the flames. He was warm in front of the fire with his family and the woman he loved, and life was good.
About Carla Neggers
Carla Neggers is the New York Times bestselling author of more than 60 novels, including her popular Sharpe & Donovan and Swift River Valley series. Frequent travelers to Ireland, Carla and her husband divide their time between Boston and their hilltop home in Vermont.
For more information, and to sign up for Carla’s newsletter, please visit her at CarlaNeggers.com. You can also find her on Twitter at twitter.com/carlaneggers and on Facebook at facebook.com/carlaneggers.
Author Note
The novella and two short stories in this mini collection stand on their own but also feature characters whose stories readers have requested. “Secret Hideaway” is the long-awaited sequel to four connected books: The Carriage House (#1), The Cabin (#2, Jack and Susanna Galway’s story), Stonebrook Cottage (#3, Sam Temple and Kara Galway’s story).
Ryan “Grit” Taylor in “Cold Moonlight” plays a role in my Black Falls trilogy: Cold Pursuit, Cold River and Cold Dawn. This story first appeared in the Love Is Murder anthology, edited by Sandra Brown.
“On the Run” features Gus Winter. Ah, Gus! He raised his two nieces and nephew on his own. We meet the Winter family in my Winter/U.S. Marshals series: Cold Ridge (#1), Night’s Landing (#2), The Rapids (#3), Dark Sky (#4), Breakwater (#5) and Abandon (#6). My novella “Shelter Island” is also part of this series. “On the Run” first appeared in the Thriller 2 anthology, edited by Clive Cussler.
Thanks so much and happy reading!
Carla
CarlaNeggers.com
Copyright © 2016 Carla Neggers
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