Page 9 of Wind Valley

It had been a big leap, searching for Pinky, assuming he’d be willing to take her in. But she had a very vivid memory of riding in a dog sled with him to look for a proper-sized tree to cut as a Christmas tree. His love had radiated through his wide gap-toothed grin and gentle blue eyes. Her child self had adored him, and in the worst moment of her life, she’d remembered him, and turned to him.

Now here she was in his unfinished house with the gaps in the sheetrock where pink fluffy insulation showed through behind a plastic vapor barrier. The floors throughout the house were bare plywood without a rug to be found. Pinky didn’t like rugs because they collected cat hair and while he had a vacuum cleaner—a vintage version with one speed and no attachments—it used a lot of power so he rarely brought it out. He didn’t have a washing machine or any way to do laundry. Eve Dotterkind did his laundry in exchange for Pinky’s special smoked salmon. The arrangement worked for both of them.

Sometimes it was hard for Maura to picture her grandmother living here with Pinky when they were a young married couple. Now, Granny Jeanine lived in a retirement home where she had an active social life and drove a golf cart to visit her friends for their ongoing poker games. The only thing Granny had to say about Pinky—or Ellis, as she’d known him—was that he’d swept her off her feet with his love for adventure and that she didn’t regret a moment of their marriage, especially the part where it ended.

Pinky, on the other hand, didn’t talk about Jeanine at all because it made him too sad. Tears would instantly spring to his eyes and he’d get choked up and have to grab the nearest rag to mop his eyes. Since sometimes the nearest rag had diesel or paint thinner on it, Maura tried not to bring up her grandmother.

I haven’t seen any animal weirdness yet this morning, she wrote. Nothing like whatever was happening last week. Maybe the mystery migration is over. I have to admit I’m a little disappointed. It was fun trying to solve a puzzle with Lachlan. He’s one of the nicest people I’ve met here. Nice isn’t really the right word, because it sounds so bland. Lachlan isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met. He’s like…radically himself. Always, every moment, one hundred percent real. I like that.

Hm, is that why I’ve been going with Pinky to The Fang whenever I get the chance? Yes, this is my private journal so I can say it freely. I like walking in and seeing Lachlan smile at me. Yesterday he was wearing a fisherman’s sweater and looked so ridiculously good that I had to rethink my no-men strategy for a hot second. But I can’t do that. I made up my mind and I need to stick to it. With that psycho out there, you never know what he’s going to do. I don’t need another Brad situation on my hands.

She’d connected with Brad on Bumble, then after some texting back and forth, they’d met for coffee and a hike. Only to be interrupted by SS showing up and pretending to be her ex-husband. She’d never heard from Brad again, except when he texted to tell her that his car had been keyed and she owed him because he was sure that lunatic ex of hers had done it, even though he had no proof.

SS wanted to ruin her life. But she refused to consider her life ruined—only scrambled. New home, new state, new surroundings. But she was still near family, and now she was even going to start working again.

After a few days’ thought, she’d agreed to become the town’s temporary teacher. Her first “class” started in…well, she didn’t know exactly, since there were no time pieces in the house, and her phone was dead. But it was this afternoon, and it was barely getting light outside, and that meant that she had a few hours before she had to make her way into town.

One of the cats jumped into her lap and dislodged the journal. It was Placer, the fluffy white one. All the cats were named after gold-mining terms. Maura had never met cats named Dredge and Windlass before, but that was Pinky for you. Placer was a cuddle-bug who loved nothing more than getting scratched under his chin. She obliged as she murmured to him.

“Placer, I wonder why you’re still here instead of heading across the snow to Smoky Lake? Did you notice all those creatures passing through? Any thoughts? Theories?”

A knock sounded on the door. It was such an unusual thing to happen that she froze. Her heart raced a mile a minute. Had it finally happened? Had SS figured out where she was and come after her? When would this end? When would he come to his senses and find something else to do with his life?

“Pinky?” called Solomon. “I know you ain’t up yet, but I need a hand with this moose I found by the road. Get on up, would ya?”

Maura put a hand to her chest in a doomed attempt to get her heart rate down. “Come on, Placer.” She picked up the warm furry mass of cat on her lap and carried him to the door with her.

“I’ll wake him up, Solomon,” she told the old miner as she let him inside. “Unless it’s something I can help with?”

“Know how to field dress a moose that got hit by a truck?”

“Not even a little.”

“Better get Pinky.”

She let him in and padded across the plywood toward Pinky’s closed bedroom door, which had been recycled from a park service bathroom and was adorned with a unisex placard.

As she went, she heard him murmur something that sounded like, “Wacky-ass moose I ever saw.”

6

“Have you ever been to Wind Valley?”

Lachlan asked the question over the whine of the wind that was currently creating mini-tornados of snow along the main drag of Firelight Ridge.

“Yeah, real windy,” Gil called back, clearly not hearing correctly. They were trudging from Gil’s truck towards Gunnar’s shop, in the hopes of picking up a new battery for Lachlan’s Nissan Frontier.

After that, they intended to stop by the general store and help Kathy unpack the latest delivery. In the winter, people stepped up to give her a hand, but that didn’t mean they’d get a price break. She was a businesswoman first and foremost and had set her boundaries early on. I’ll run this store out here in the middle of the wilderness, and you’ll pay what I ask.

“No, Wind Valley,” Lachlan repeated.

“Huh?”

Lachlan gave up. The only tidbit of information about Wind Valley came from a conversation when he’d first come to Firelight Ridge.

“It’s like a no-man’s land out there,” he’d been told. “Ahtna legend says if you set foot in Wind Valley, you’ll be cursed for a dozen years. They used to get even worse jökulhlaups than us, before the glacier receded.”

“How do you know that?”

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