Page 3 of Snowed in with the Rancher

“That Lobster?” his dad asked.

“Yeah, he just woke up,” Tate answered, turning the computer so the camera would show the black beast to the others. Lobster's tongue lolled out of his smiling mouth, and Lucy and Thomas began cooing at him.

Tate's gaze roamed around his living room. He'd spent the last six years redoing the old cabin, ever since his dad and Lucy got married and he'd moved out of the main ranch house to give them some space to themselves. It had come together nicely, an eclectic mix of traditional Montana décor—an antler chandelier over the dining room table, overstuffed leather sofas—and modern practicalities like triple-glazed windows, gas fireplace, heated floors. Actually, he might have gone a little overboard. It was certainly more than he needed to live alone, with a couple of bedrooms and a study, one great room with living, kitchen, and dining area, and two and a half bathrooms. But he loved it. The cabin was his refuge, the place where he could relax and let down his guard. The place where everything was laid out exactly the way that he wanted it. And those decorations Lucy had dropped off? He just didn't see anywhere for them here in his space. They were perfectly nice decorations, but they just weren't right for him at all.

“So what do you say?” Thomas asked. “You going to set up some time aside to have William and the boys help you with that land?”

Damn, a direct question—he couldn't just nod and smile and hope the conversation moved on without his input. “I'm not sure, Dad. They'll be on vacation and all. It might not be the best time to bother them with the ranch's concerns.” He didn't want his dad worrying about things, either. Since his heart attack three years ago, he'd stepped back from the day-to-day running of the ranch, leaving it in Tate's hands. Resolving the situation with the unused land was Tate's problem, and he would handle it himself, as usual.

“It's the perfect time!” Lucy burst out, her ebullient grin lighting up her face. “They'll be happy to help, I'm sure of it. And it's no imposition—I know you'd do the same for them if the tables were turned.”

Of course, if there was anything he could do to help another rancher out, he'd be glad to lend a hand. But asking for help himself? That was a different matter.

Just then, an obnoxious siren blasted from his phone where it sat on the kitchen table on the other side of the room.

“Oh!” Lucy jumped in surprise.

“Sounds like search and rescue calling,” Thomas said, placing a steadying hand on Lucy's shoulder. His dad knew about his long history volunteering with the local search and rescue team. With his commitments to the ranch, especially after his dad stepped back, Tate couldn't be on the schedule as much as he would like, but he still tried to put in as many hours as he could. And when they called, he came right away.

“Yep. Gotta run,” Tate said, relieved for the easy excuse to end the conversation before anyone forced a promise out of him that he didn't want to make.

“You stay safe out there, son,” Thomas instructed.

“Thanks, Dad. I'll talk to you later.”

He tapped the red X on the screen and began moving across the room immediately. He reached the phone before the siren could blast a second time. Picking it up, he saw the emergency text.

Three individuals missing near Tolson Cliffs. Adult female late twenties. Two female children under ten. Last seen at the following coordinates…

“Damn,” Tate muttered. The impending storm was rolling in fast, and a mom was out there alone with young kids. There wasn't a second to waste. He grabbed the keys to his ATV before picking up the emergency responder kit he kept by the back door. His jacket, gloves, and hat followed, and he was out the door and climbing onto the four-wheeler in less than a minute.

Lobster was at his hip the entire time, jumping into the passenger seat of the ATV without being prompted. He'd been going on rescues with Tate since his puppy days, and he knew the routine as well as any human.

Tate picked up the radio that backed up their cell phones during rescues. “This is McConnell, responding to the call,” he said.

“Roger that, Tate,” replied Marjory Andrews, the wife of the search and rescue team chief. Marjory served as the dispatcher when calls came in. “You might be the only one able to get there before the storm fouls everything up,” she said. “Make sure to stay in close touch.”

“Roger that,” Tate replied before putting the handheld back into its slot on the dash of the ATV. “You ready, old man?” he said to Lobster. The lab gave another enthusiastic bark before bathing Tate's ear with his tongue. The ATV engine cranked over and Tate hit the accelerator, snow churning behind him as he headed toward the old trucking road to the east—and a mother with two kids who needed saving before the biggest storm of the season rolled in and put a halt to everything for a hundred miles.

TWO

“It hurts, Mommy,” Jacqueline said from the log where she was sitting, amid a pile of snow at the bottom of the ravine she'd tumbled into.

Olivia Wickham sighed as she rubbed the four-year-old's ankle gently. “I know, hon. I need you to keep it elevated—up on this rock. Someone's going to be back for us soon, and they'll put you on a sled or something to take you back to the lodge.” She tried to smile convincingly. “It's all going to be fine.”

“I told her not to look over the edge,” Jackie's twin sister Melissa said. “She doesn't listen, and she's a 'rupter,” the other four-year-old in the party added with righteous indignation.

“Well, she was curious,” Olivia said, looking at Melissa over her shoulder. She stood, her arms crossed, on top of a small boulder that stuck up out of the snow. Above her, a huge pine tree threatened to dump a branch full of snow over the little girl. Beyond that, the sky was darkening quickly, big gray clouds churning angrily. They made Olivia more than a little uneasy, but being a mom meant never panicking—at least, not where her girls could see it. Aloud, all she said was, “You get curious sometimes, too.”

“Huh!” Melissa's jaw stiffened, and she glared at her sister.

Olivia shook her head, wondering for the millionth time where Melissa's strong personality came from. She was always so sure of herself in a way that Olivia had never been. Maybe it came from her father?

Unfortunately, Olivia had barely known the girls' father, so some aspects of Melissa's personality remained a mystery.

“Mommy, I liked the snowshoeing part,” Jackie said, a tired look in her pretty caramel eyes—visible proof that she was her father's daughter too, even if she'd inherited more of Olivia's personality. “But I'm cold now. I want to go home.” The last words threatened to turn into a whine.

Olivia reached over to where her backpack rested against the tree trunk and unzipped it. No mother of twin four-year-olds was ever without a prodigious number of supplies. She dug around before finding several instant glove warmer packets as well as a collection of energy bars and the small canteen of water she'd brought for the girls to share.

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