Page 121 of Tangled up in You

“That’s a good question.” Mark tossed something that landed at Christopher’s feet. “Hopefully when they broke free they headed back to the barn and didn’t end up like this.”

Christopher bent over and picked up the object…

Which was what was left of their bear-mauled radio.

He didn’t want to know what the rest of it looked like after making its way through the digestive passage of a bear sow.

MARK

At first he thought he’d lost his way and he used his headlamp to follow their tracks.

But when he reached the clearing, with his gun in one hand and can of bear spray in the other…

There was nothing except tracks.

And the mangled remains of their radio.

In the good news column, however, there also weren’t mangled remains of mules. He tried tracking them until he realized there was no way in hell he would catch up. They’d likely broken free during the bear charge and probably headed back to their barn in a panic.

With all of their extra supplies.

And their personal locator beacon.

And the satellite messenger.

And the map and GPS.

And Christopher’s gun.

Fuuuuck.

He stood there, listening and alternately calling for the mules and hopefully warning off the bear, but he didn’t hear anything that sounded like either of those species.

Just the normal sounds he expected on a cold spring night in Yellowstone.

Could I have fucked this up any worse?

Hell, he’d be lucky if he had a damned job by the time the Thomas family finished with him. And he’d not only screwed everything up, he also nearly got their pet scientist killed in the process.

Correction, there was still plenty of time for her—and them—to die. Especially when the snow started falling heavier.

“I turned around so I wouldn’t lose the trail,” Mark told them. “It wouldn’t have taken long to obscure our tracks.” He set his pack next to Christopher’s. “We need to hunker down for the duration. We can’t risk moving until it’s daylight and the snow stops.”

“How many emergency blankets do you have in your pack?” Chris asked, emptying his own.

“Several.” They took inventory, also opening Jesse’s pack and removing everything. Between them they had eleven, three of which Mark used inside the tent to line the ceiling and walls to help insulate it. Christopher rigged another from the top of the reflector to the top of the tent entrance to help keep the snow out.

Jesse still shivered, but at least she was sitting upright and talking. “How much food do we have?” she asked.

Mark exchanged a glance with Christopher.

“We have enough we can stretch it for several days,” Mark said. “Right now, let’s focus on drying out.”

Christopher helped Mark gather more sticks and branches to drape their wet clothing over. Fortunately, most of Jesse’sspare clothing was either dry or only slightly damp thanks to the zippered bags she’d packed them in.

She watched them, not speaking until they’d laid everything out. “Do you want me to give you back your clothes?” she asked Christopher.

“Not right now, honey,” he said. “We need you thawed out first. We can put yours in the sleeping bag with us and they’ll be warm by morning.”

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