your name?”
“Mikey,” he sniffed and rubbed one mitten over his tear-covered cheek. “Those bad dogs won’t let me help Unca Ben. They bited me,” he repeated angrily.
“They were only trying to keep you safe. Spot and Dot won’t hurt you.” He clearly didn’t believe her so Victoria sought to ease his fear by grasping his hand. “We want to help you and Uncle Ben, but I can’t see him. Can you show me where he is?”
Mikey glared at the dogs so she gave a command. Immediately they sat and waited. Mikey studied them suspiciously for several more moments.
“Okay.” He finally relented as he looked at her. “But after we help Unca Ben, can I have a drink? I’m thirsty.”
“Sure you can, sweetie.” She patted his hand. “So, where’s your uncle?”
“Down there.” He walked a few steps before pointing downward.
Victoria had to peer through the gloom and whirling snow for several moments before she finally spotted the barely discernible fender of a white car that had clearly slipped off the road, down the embankment and into the forest. Its hood was crushed against a massive pine tree which also pinned the driver’s door closed.
“Good man, Mikey.” There was no signal on her phone. Frowning, Victoria spied a sheltered indentation in the rock face and led the boy there, figuring that since he was dressed warmly, he’d be okay for a bit. “You stay here, out of the wind. Don’t try to follow me,” she ordered firmly. “I’ll go talk to Uncle Ben then come back.”
Mikey frowned. “He’s sleepin’ an’ he won’t wake up.”
Unconscious? Victoria’s heart sank but praying was a habit she developed long ago. Lord? Even after what I’ve done, are You still with me?
“I’ll check on him but you still have to stay here, Mikey.”
“But what if a dinosaur comes? Or a crocodile?” he asked in a scared voice. “Or a bear?” He was so cute.
“Bears sleep in wintertime, honey. And crocodiles and dinosaurs don’t live anywhere near these mountains,” she promised. “Anyway, Spot and Dot won’t let any animals get near you.”
“Sure?” Mikey frowned when she nodded. “I don’t like those biting dogs.” He glared at them as he rubbed his arm.
“They didn’t bite you, honey. They just grabbed on to your coat, to keep you safe. They’re your friends, just like me. Understand?”
Mikey did not look convinced but finally, he nodded.
“I promise I’ll hurry as fast as I can.” After reassuring him again, Victoria slipped and slid her way down the embankment. Every so often, she called encouragements to Mikey and reminded him to stay put. She’d call for help as soon as she’d assessed the situation, after she checked on Uncle Ben. But she’d have to climb higher because there was no cell phone signal down here, either.
The car’s rear passenger door hung open. Probably how Mikey escaped. After ensuring that the vehicle was firmly wedged and would not move, Victoria swept away the snow and peered inside. A very good-looking man, in a military haircut that emphasized his strong jaw, lay sprawled in the driver’s seat with the airbag deployed around him. A bleeding gash marred his forehead, probably where he’d bashed into the cracked side window. He wore a dark fleece sweatshirt and jeans. His unzipped blue jacket looked new. She yanked open the front passenger door.
“Sir?” He didn’t answer. Glad of the first-aid courses her employers had insisted she complete, Victoria quickly checked his vitals. All good. “Uncle Ben?”
He groaned, shifted slightly. Thick brown lashes lifted slowly until big blue eyes met hers.
“Hello.” The slurred words were accompanied by a faint smile.
“I’m Victoria Archer. You went off the road. Do you remember?”
“No. Yes.” He shook his head, winced and then whispered frantically, “Mikey! Where’s Mikey?”
“He’s safe. My dogs are guarding him.”
“Mikey hates dogs.” Ben licked his lips. “A year ago, one bit him.”
“That explains it.” At his questioning look, she shook her head. “Never mind. Other than the cut on your forehead, are you okay?”
“Lemme check.” Ben closed his eyes as he completed a series of movements. Then he looked at her, his face grim as he listed his injuries. “Left arm’s bruised but not broken. Ankle’s wrenched. My ribs are probably going to bruise and my head hurts where I hit it. And my door’s stuck.”
“It’s jammed against the tree. You’ll have to get out on this side.” She studied the situation. “Can you move?”
“Barely, but so what?” he asked gruffly. “You’re too small to help me.”
Too small. Fire sprang to life inside Victoria. She’d heard that all her life and she still hated it. As if her brainpower depended on her height.
“I’m strong, I’m smart and I can help you,” she said, ignoring an inner flutter of appreciation for his blue eyes. “If you can get out.”
“I’ve got a good sixty pounds on you,” Ben grumbled, easing off his seat belt. “Even if I do get out, you can’t support me, and I doubt I can walk, especially uphill.”
“First let’s see what we’re dealing with,” she said, reining in her temper. “Then I’ll phone Jake, our hired hand, for help.”
“Why not call a tow truck?” Ben clenched his jaw as he eased his body across the seat.
“Wouldn’t do any good.” Victoria tried to move his injured foot but knew from his sudden indrawn breath that it was less painful for him to do it himself. “In a storm like this, the Alberta Ministry of Transportation concentrates on ensuring the main roads in and out of Jasper and our nearest town, Chokecherry Hollow, are navigable. The Haven is always last on their plow-out list because we’re the only ones who live along this road. Doesn’t matter though because Jake usually has us plowed out long before they arrive. But that won’t be for a while. It’s coming down pretty heavily now.”
“Huh.” Ben was almost free when she suddenly realized there was no place except a snowbank for him to sit.
“Wait. Feeling okay?”
“Peachy,” he shot back in a grumpy tone.
“Good.” She grinned at his dour glance. “Stay here, on this passenger seat. Close the door to keep warm. Rest for a few minutes while I go call Jake and check on Mikey.”
“Good idea.” Ben grunted his assent, his tanned face strained. “Kid’s probably starving. It’s a while since we ate.”
“Not a problem.” She closed the car door. So where did Uncle Ben get a tan like that, at this time of year, in Canada? He sure didn’t get his tan from a bottle like Aunt Tillie did because Uncle Ben’s skin was too evenly darkened, the deep color almost burned in. Maybe he was a skier?
Victoria told herself to forget her building questions about the guy as she climbed vertically, grasping twigs and rocks to help in her ascent. Mikey was where she’d left him, still glaring at the dogs.
“I found Uncle Ben,” she said, puffing a little. “He’s got a sore arm and leg. I need to phone someone to come help us.”
“’Cause Unca Ben’s really big,” Mikey agreed, brown eyes huge.
“He sure is.” She chuckled. “Are you warm enough?”
“Uh-huh. ’Fore we comed here, Unca Ben buyed me this coat and snow pants. They gots feathers in ’em.”
“Like the birds, huh?