Page 139 of Price of Angels

She shook her head, not able to explain. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t have a worse fall than that,” he said, righting and stepping back from her. “You coulda–”

The rest of his sentence broke off into a masculine yelp, and his left foot flew forward and he collapsed. Above the sharp intake of her gasp, Holly heard the crunch of bone breaking.

“Oh my God! Wynn!” She shot to her feet, rushing to him.

He sat in the snow, his left leg stuck out in front of him at an awkward angle. His weathered face was scored with harsh lines of pain. He grunted and reached for his lower leg, hissing through his teeth when his hand landed on his calf.

“Wynn.” Holly laid a hand on his shoulder, bending over him, more than a little panicked. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

“It’s not your fault,” he gritted out. “It was that damned rock.”

She glanced over and saw it; filmed with slick ice, it had lain hidden beneath the snow.

She grimaced. “God. Do you think it’s–”

“Broken. Yep. I know it is.”

She straightened and pushed her beanie back off her forehead, suddenly hot all over with anxiety. “Do you think you can stand up? I could help you walk back. You could put your arm around my shoulders–”

He shook his head. “That’s real sweet, darlin’, but it’s three miles back and you’re just a little thing. You can’t hold me up all that way.”

Cassius circled his master, snuffling at his face, whining and wagging his tail.

“I’m alright,” Wynn told the dog, stroking his head. “You just calm down, Old Cass.”

Holly knotted her gloved hands together. She’d brought her little red child size gloves, her favorites. They seemed too bright in this gray and white landscape.

“What can I do to help?” she asked. “Is there someone I can call? Can I…oh God, Wynn, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Calm down,” he soothed. “It hurts like a bitch, but it’s just a broken leg. Nobody’s dying.” He managed a pained smile

She gave him a miserable one in return. “I just feel awful about it.”

“I know. But here’s what you’re gonna do. Take Cass here, follow the tracks and go back to the house. There’s no good cellphone signal out here. Find the list of numbers by the phone in the kitchen, and call Fred Mashburn. Okay? Tell him what happened and he and his boys can come help me back to the house.”

She nodded. “Fred Mashburn. Got it. But what about you? Shouldn’t Cassius stay here and keep you safe?”

“Ain’t nothin’ but coyotes in these woods, and they don’t want an old tough strip of meat like me. No. You take Cass. I’ll be just fine.”

“Will you be warm enough? Do you need my hat?”

“No, sweetheart. Go on, now. And don’t you slip and break your leg, or we’ll have to hope Cass turns into Lassie and fetches help for us.” He laughed, but his complexion was paling. His leg was hurting him badly.

“Alright. I’ll be back soon.” With great regret, she left him sitting there. “Come on, Cass,” she called, and with an order from his master, the Dane followed her back down the trail.

“I can’t believe how stupid I am,” she said to the dog once they’d gone a little ways. “Having damn…flashbacks…and getting sweet old men hurt…”

Cassius pulled to a sudden halt beside her, growling low in his throat. The sound scared the hell out of her. She jumped, and glanced up wildly.

“What? What is it–”

Her heart lurched. She closed her eyes and then opened them again, not trusting that what she’d seen was real.

But no, they were still there. Not ten feet up the trail. Standing side-by-side, ugly smudges against the snow.

Abraham and Uncle Jacob.

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