Page 6 of Mountain Refuge
We all looked out for Tommy. He looked like the creepy in-law no one wanted at the holiday party but was always invited out of family obligation. In reality, though, he was just a rundown old man who deserved peace and mountain air. He was cranky, but not malicious. I knew he was a veteran but no details beyond that. In his own way, he looked out for each of us up on the mountain. I probably wouldn’t have survived my first winterwithout him.
When Tommy had broken his hip last summer, his fellow mountain dwellers and I took turns looking in on him. My property is the closest, so I check on him more than the others. Tommy probably wouldn’t call me a neighbor or even a friend. In fact, he calls me a “nosy little girl” most of the time.
But I see the appreciation in his bright green eyes whenever I drop off extra food I’d canned, cured meats, and especially a pie if the berries were in season. Others did the occasional housework and maintenance for him or stocked his wood pile. Tommy would sit in his rocking chair on his porch with a shotgun in his hand, yelling for us to get off his land. But he was all talk, no bite—at least when it came to us. I had never feared for my life when visiting Tommy. In fact, I kind of thought of him like the grumpy grandfather I’d never had.
My snowmobile was still out, as was my emergency supply backpack I’d put in one of the saddlebags so I could carry passengers behind me. I needed to get them put away before they were completely buried. But first, I had to take care of my unexpected houseguests.
A snort escaped me. Hadn’t thought I’d be hosting guests again so soon—and certainly not in the middle of a Montana winter storm.
It was difficult to get myself out from under the man’s dead weight. He wasn’t overweight or very muscular, but a hundred and eighty pounds was still a hundred and eighty pounds. I wasn’t exactly built like a linebacker either.
From the quick glances I’d taken of him once he’d started unbundling his jacket and winter gear, the man was about my height, maybe two or three inches taller than my five-seven frame. It was hard to judge with how hunched over he’d been from the cold. He had sandy brown hair that either was growing out oddly or was in desperate need of a trim. His full beard looked just as unkempt as his tousled brown locks. I hadn’t gotten a look at his eyes, but Iimagined green or maybe brown. His daughter was a blonde with blue eyes, like me. I wondered briefly if she’d gotten that from her mother—as well as where that woman was and why she hadn’t been in the car with them. Was she waiting for them back at the resort hotel?
Unfortunately, with this storm, I was not going to get answers to my questions until the man regained consciousness. No SOS message would make it through these winds and ice.
I laid the man gently on my wooden floor, stood, and turned to the crying children. I was not used to noise in my cabin, so this was going to take some patience I wasn’t sure I possessed anymore. I wasn’t what one would call a people-person. At least, not anymore.
I leaned forward to rest my hands on my knees. I hoped in lowering myself to the girl’s eye level, it would make me seem more trustworthy. That was a thing parents did, right?
Doubt crept in but I hoped I kept it out of my voice. “So, um, your dad’s fine.” I hadn’t really had a chance to look at the man; I was mainly trying to reassure the girl. Really hoped I wasn’t lying. “I think he just fell asleep.”
The girl clutched her brother closer to her. He looked big in her arms. I couldn’t guess how old he was, but she was probably six or seven. Her crying paused, and she let out a small sob. “Are we safe here?”
I blinked. Though no longer on the force, my cop instincts rose at the odd question. From one perspective, it probably wasn’tthatodd a query, considering the conditions I’d found the family in. They had not beensafein that car in this storm. From another perspective, the one that knew the sort of people who seek refuge on my mountain, it was a necessary question.
Coming from a little girl though? I wasn’t sure. The boat could tip in either direction given their circumstances.
Still, there was only one answer I could give and keep thegirl calm. I nodded, “Yes. I’ve lived many winters up here. We’ve got heat, food, and shelter. You’re very safe.” The girl didn’t seem as reassured as I’d hoped by my answer. Maybe she wasn’t a native to this area and this was her first time seeing snow. “So, um, are you hungry?”
She continued to stare at me for a minute, as if she was assessing me. It was kind of unnerving, coming from a girl so young. I briefly worried over what conclusions she came to about me. Finally, she loosened her hold on the baby a little. It was then that I realized how she was angling her body. Her feet and head were facing me but her upper body where she held the baby to her was turned away from me. As if she was putting her body between the baby and a threat. Seeing as I was the only other living soul around for miles, I could only conclude that perceived threat was me.
That also gave me pause. What six-year-old was ready to defend a baby in such a way? Why was it even an instinct to do so?
I glanced down at the dad. Did he hit the kids? I hadn’t gotten that vibe from him. In fact, his reaction from when I took the baby from his arms at the car had given me an overprotective feeling about him. The girl’s reaction to her dad’s fainting was also one of concern and love. While I didn’t tend to trust my instincts when it came to people anymore, I felt confident believing he wasn’t an abusive father.
So who was the threat that the girl was used to protecting her brother from? At least, I assumed he was her brother. I couldn’t see the baby’s face to judge their features for similarities. Bottom line, it didn’t matter.
I didn’t want to step any closer to the girl—she was already on edge—so I squatted down in front of her. “You’re safe, sweetie. My name’s Brooke.”
She looked a little more relaxed at that and even started to soothe the baby by rocking him. “I’m Lydia.”
I nodded my appreciation of her offering me her name with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Lydia. That’s a very pretty name.” I glanced over my shoulder towards the front door. The dad had brought a backpack with him from their car. “Do you think there’s supplies in that bag for your brother?”
She didn’t correct the title, so I assumed I’d guessed right. With a nod, she said, “Daddy always makes sure he has diapers and food for Henry.”
“Think you could go get it while I try to get your dad settled somewhere more comfortable?” I also wanted to look the man over for injuries but didn’t want to tell the girl that for fear it would upset her again. If I found something, considering the condition and whether I had the supplies to treat it, I would figure out then what to tell her. “I’ll heat up a bottle if he needs it and get us some food when I get back.” I’d been reheating soup on the stovetop when the man had first entered the kitchen, but I’d moved it off the burner and to the side when I’d noticed him starting to sag. Good thing too, or that’d be one more mess I’d have to deal with.
And to think, I’d been anticipating curling up by the fire and reading tonight while waiting out the storm. Silly me for not having seen this coming.
Assignment given, the girl leapt into action. With her attention preoccupied, I did a quick assessment of the father to make sure there were no obvious broken bones or open wounds that would prevent me from moving him. Thankfully, I found none. Deciding the couch was closer, plus nearer to the fireplace, I rounded his shoulders, hooked my arms under his pits, and started to drag him.
Geez, the guy was heavier than he looked. While I was not anti-feminist in any way, nor did I hate my gender or have anydesigns on switching genders, there were times when the reality of my situation was that my life would be easier if I was built like a man. Despite this being my ninth year living up on my beloved mountain, I was not buff. I worked but didn’t work out. My upper body strength just wasn’t what it would be if I was a man living this lifestyle. Most of the others on the mountain, all others being men by the way, were huge. The work and lifestyle of living a mountain life was not easy. While it kept me fit, I still had a bit of flab that just wouldn’t go away. The men, on the other hand, didn’t have a single ounce of fat between them. Lucky bastards.
So while I had the strength to get the unconscious man across my living room’s wooden floor and eventually was able to boost him up onto the couch, it certainly would have been easier if I had the strength and height to just lift him and place him on the couch.
Satisfied with the man’s position on the couch, I took a deep breath and congratulated myself on a job well done. He hadn’t awoken screaming in pain as I maneuvered his body around, so I was leaning towards exhaustion as his reason for collapsing and not injury. To complete my self-pat on the back, I mentally say the mantra I often use while doing mountain work:a penis was not required to complete this task.
I chuckled silently to myself.
