Page 91 of Death Valley

I glance down over Aubrey’s shoulder at Eli, lying there motionless except for Jeopardy’s movement. Deep down I know that I’m about to lose my one true friend as well. I’m doing my best not to dwell on it, because if I do, I know I’ll start thinking about how futile this whole situation is.

I probably won’t only lose Eli. I might lose Aubrey too.

If that happens, I won’t make it either.

The storm intensifies around us, snow falling so thickly now that it’s becoming difficult to see more than a few yards ahead. The cold settles in around us, coating us in ice. I can barely feel my legs, my hands are numb as they wrap around Aubrey’s coat.

“There,” I say finally, pointing toward a dark smudge against the whiteness ahead. “I think that’s it.”

We urge Jeopardy forward, picking up the pace despite the deepening snow and the burden he carries. As we draw closer, the smudge resolves into a small cabin nestled against a granite outcropping and thick forest. It’s old, weathered by countless Sierra winters, but sturdy—stone foundation, thick timber walls, steep roof designed to shed heavy snow. A trapper’s cabin dating back to the Gold Rush era, maintained over decades by hunters and backcountry skiers as an emergency shelter.

Right now, it looks like salvation.

“Don’t like this,” Aubrey mutters as we approach, her teeth chattering loudly. “What makes you think we won’t be sitting ducks?”

“We’re ducks no matter how you slice it. We don’t have a choice. Eli needs shelter, and the storm’s only getting worse. We’ll get hyperthermia if we’re out here a moment longer.” And from the way that Aubrey is starting to shake, I worry it might already have a hold.

We dismount awkwardly, supporting Eli between us as we make our way to the cabin door. Jeopardy stands patiently in the worsening storm, steam rising from his flanks after the hard ride.

The cabin door is stiff with frost but unlocked, swinging open to reveal a simple one-room interior. A stone fireplace dominates one wall, shelves stocked with basic provisions line another, and a narrow cot sits beneath the single window.

“Get him to the cot,” I direct, helping Aubrey maneuver Eli’s limp form through the door. “I’ll start a fire.”

The cabin is bitterly cold, our breath forming white clouds in the stale air. I kneel at the hearth, finding it already laid with kindling and split logs—the backcountry code of leaving things ready for the next visitor in need. My hands shake slightly from cold and adrenaline as I strike a match from a pack on the mantel, coaxing the flame to catch on the dry pine needles.

“I need to check on Jeopardy,” I say, once the fire has caught, flames beginning to lick at the larger logs. “Get the rest of our gear.”

Aubrey looks up from tending Eli, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion and grief. “Be careful,” she says simply.

I nod, then step back into the storm.

The cold hits like a physical blow, the wind driving snow into every exposed inch of skin. Visibility has dropped to almost nothing, the world beyond the cabin door a swirling white void. Jeopardy stands where we left him, head lowered against the driving snow, a dark shape against the whiteness.

My heart sinks at the sight.

I should bring him into the cabin. The floor space is limited, but we could make room. Keep him safe from whatever stalks us through the trees.

But even as I consider it, I know it’s not possible. The hungry ones know we are here, there’s no doubt. If Jeopardy remains, he’ll become a target—or worse, leverage to force us back outside.

“I’m sorry, boy,” I murmur, stroking his frost-crusted mane. “We’ve been through a lot together, you and me.”

The decision forms in my mind, instinctive and necessary. I quickly remove his saddle and bridle, setting them in the shelter of the cabin’s overhang, then grab the rest of the gear andpacks from him. He watches me with intelligent eyes, sensing something important is happening.

“You need to go,” I tell him, running my hand down his neck, my teeth chattering now. “Find your way home. You know the trails better than any of them.”

It feels ridiculous, talking to a horse as if he can understand, but Jeopardy and I have covered thousands of miles of mountain trails together. If any horse can navigate back to the ranch, it’s him. I have faith.

I kiss his nose, tasting of snow, and give him one final pat before stepping back. “Get!” I urge him, giving him a sharp slap on the flank. “Get out of here! Go back to the ranch. Go home!”

He hesitates only a moment before instinct takes over, turning and bolting away into the storm, quickly disappearing into the swirling white back the way we came. I watch until he’s completely gone from sight, throat tight with emotion I can’t afford to acknowledge. Jeopardy has been more than just a mount. He’s been companion, partner, friend through years of riding these mountains.

I can only pray I’ll see him again.

Back inside the cabin, Aubrey has managed to clean Eli’s wound and dress it with fresh bandages. His fever hasn’t broken, but he seems more comfortable, resting more peacefully on the cot.

“Jeopardy?” she asks, looking up as I stomp snow from my boots.

“Gone,” I say simply. “I set him free.”

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