Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: TOURIST ATTRACTION(S) (natural or man-made) (08/06/15)
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TITLE: Ptarmigan's House | Previous Challenge Entry
By Rachel Barrett
08/13/15 -
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Boots stomped on the porch. She scurried back to her mending as the door opened, and six feet of snow-plastered cowboy entered with a gust of arctic air. Shedding his coat, Jed beelined for the fire. “Dang, it's cold! I think hell musta froze over.”
He grinned at her, frost crackling off his beard, and she ducked her face. This rowdy, uncouth rancher husband still carried the strangeness of unfamiliarity. She'd been alone when he'd found her in Denver, and she'd needed him. Whether he needed her, she didn't know, and she couldn't bring herself to scold him for his language.
He rubbed his hands over the sizzling flames. “Got more firewood outside.”
She half-started at his booming voice. “Thank you.”
He fell silent, though she wished he would speak. She gazed at him, thawing himself over the fire. Perhaps he'd sit and talk with her.
But presently he threw on his coat again. “Guess I better check the cows.” He lifted his rifle off the elk horns nailed over the door. “Might hike up by Ptarmigan's House. See if I can't bring home some birds for you.”
Ardy scrambled as he opened the latch. “Can . . . can I come?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Out there? Gotta be fifteen below. 'Sides, you don't know the country yet.”
“I don't mind.” She twisted his freshly mended sock in her hands. “You said you'd show me Ptarmigan's House. Everybody in Denver talked about it.”
He smiled. “That mountain ain't goin' nowhere. Springtime I'll take you, when it's a-bloomin'.” With a wink, he yanked his scarf tight like a bandit and headed out into the snow, whistling for the dog.
His crunching steps muffled her timid “be careful”. As he strode away without looking back, she flung down the sock and sighed.
A bark at the door distracted Ardy from her book, and she hopped up. Jed would be chilled and ravenous, but all supper lacked was his promised main dish.
No cowboy came in. Rusty barked again.
Ardy stepped onto an empty porch. “Jed?” Outdoors was frostily silent, and the winter sun sagged toward serrated western mountains.
Ardy wheeled back for coat and wraps, grabbing Jed's revolver on her way out. Rusty walked in her tracks as she stumped through the drifted valley toward the treeline.
Halfway up the hulking southern slope, she halted, panting. Jed was right about getting used to the altitude. Now if she could just get oriented . . . There it was—the highest peak, jutting oddly, almost groaning under its load of snow. The little white ptarmigans, Jed had told her, loved the secluded elevation. Made them hard to hunt, but worth the challenge.
And he might be anywhere up there, in miles of wilderness. Ardy gulped down mounting dread, and pressed on.
Cold nipped her eyelids—only thing she couldn't wrap up—and purple shadows began yawning across the snow. Shin-deep, she struggled through, peering into the forest. Some sign, a trail, please God, anything. It was almost sunset. Please, just a little more time!
“JED!” She hollered, but the muted whiteness seemed to swallow it.
Wait—what?
“Ardy! Here!”
At Jed's shout, relief warmed her to her fingertips. She spun, searching, then floundered toward the dark bulk of his bearskin coat against the snow.
Winded, she reached him. “What—happened?”
“Darn rock happened!” He shifted his legs and winced. “Twisted my ankle.” Holding up his game bag, he grinned through his teeth. “But I got your ptarmigans.”
Ardy's nerves shuddered into a half-hysterical laugh. “I was worried about you!”
Jed blinked. “You was?”
She nodded.
The strain in his face seemed to lighten. “Well, now, I'm . . . glad.”
Hesitant, Ardy slipped her arm under his. “Can you get up?” She braced as he leaned heavily on her, gaining his feet with a grunt.
He looked down at her. “You coulda got lost an' froze, chasin' me.”
“I told you I'd see Ptarmigan's House, one way or another.” Ardy's heart warmed to his pain-clenched smile. “I better get you home.”
“Home sounds awful good.” He attempted a hobbling step. She steadied him, and together they tracked through the snow. His arm around her shoulders fit just right.
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Thanks for sharing:)
Great work.
It could become a fabulous romance novel I think.
Wing His Words