Snowed In With the Park Ranger Who Hates Rangers novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Dog Chores

Bea and Astrid feed the dogs and Astrid's palm warms Bea's frostnipped cheek; Astrid refuses to ride the snowmobile anywhere.

I woke to the smell of coffee and the sight of Astrid feeding the stove.

She had her back to me, and the silver streak in her hair caught the firelight.

Gray light pushed at the window, and the snow outside had drifted up to the sill.

"Three feet last night," Astrid said, without looking around. "More coming."

I sat up in her sleeping bag and found my phone on the floor.

There was no signal, and the battery said eleven percent.

"My truck's four miles down the road," I said. "I need to get to a tow."

"Nobody's towing anything today," Astrid said.

"Then call somebody on your radio."

"The radio's down."

It had worked the night before, but I let that go, because she had already turned to the coffee.

She poured two mugs and set one beside me on the floor.

Her hands were steady, and her eyes did not meet mine.

"Dogs need feeding," she said. "Boots on."

The wood shed was ten steps from the door, and the wind took my breath on every one.

Moose lifted his head from the straw and thumped his tail twice.

Juno, Birch and Pip lay in a knot beside him, and all four got up to greet us.

I had a bag of kibble in the duffel, enough for three days at half rations.

Astrid looked at the bag, then at the dogs, and then went back out into the snow.

She came back with a frozen block of something wrapped in butcher paper and an ax.

"Venison," she said. "I put up too much in the fall."

"I can't take your food."

"It's not food for me," Astrid said. "I don't eat much of it."

She split the block with three hard strokes and mixed it into the kibble with warm water from the kettle.

The dogs went at it as if they had never eaten before.

I knelt in the straw and checked paws one by one, spreading each toe and looking for ice balls.

Astrid knelt beside me and did the same thing on the other side of Moose, without a word.

Her fingers were quick and sure on his pads.

She had done this a thousand times, and not with sled dogs from a book.

"You've run a team," I said.

"A long time ago." Her jaw tightened.

"How long?"

"Long enough that it doesn't matter." She handed Pip over to me. "Your little one has a split pad."

I took the pup's foot and saw the red crack.

"I'll wrap it," I said, and reached for my kit.

My glove slipped, and the back of my hand brushed her wrist.

We both went still, kneeling in the straw with the dogs breathing around us.

Her wrist was warm under the cuff of her jacket.

She did not pull away, not right away, and I felt her pulse jump against my knuckles.

Then she stood up and brushed straw off her knees.

"Your cheek is white," she said.

I touched it, and it felt like wood.

"Frostnip," Astrid said. "Come here."

I stood, and she took off her glove and laid her bare palm over my cheek.

The heat of her hand sank in until I shivered.

"Hold still," she said, and her thumb moved once along the bone under my eye.

It was the lightest touch, and I felt it in my knees.

She was close enough that I could see gray flecks in her gray eyes.

"You do that to everyone who knocks on your door?" I asked.

"Nobody knocks on my door," Astrid said.

She dropped her hand and turned to the back of the shed.

I wrapped Pip's foot in tape and gauze, and the pup licked my wrist in thanks.

Astrid went through the pile of gear stacked against the back wall, pulling a tarp off something big.

It was a snowmobile, a dark green machine with a ranger-service decal on the cowling.

A small paper tag hung from the key switch.

The tag was soft with age and said PERMIT in block letters, and I could not read the rest.

"That runs?" I said.

"It runs."

"Then take me to the road. I'll walk to the highway from there, or you can flag a plow."

"No."

The word came out flat, and the whole shed went quiet.

"Why not?" I said. "You've got a machine, and I've got a truck stuck in a drift."

"The permit covers one rider." Astrid pulled the tarp back over the seat with a sharp snap. "I'm not leaving the cabin."

"In a blizzard, with a stranded person on your floor?"

"There's snow coming. The trail's not safe."

"You just said nobody tows anything today. You could take me when it clears."

"I don't take people anywhere," Astrid said.

She walked out of the shed, and the door banged behind her.

I stood with a half-wrapped dog foot in my hands and a snowmobile I was not allowed to ride.

Moose put his head on my knee and sighed.

"I know," I told him. "I don't understand her either."

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