Page 1 of Christmas at Wolf Creek
Chapter 1
Ella
Igrip the steering wheel tighter as we wind our way through the darkened forest road leading back to our cottage on the far side of Wolfcreek Ranch. The headlights cut a narrow path through the pitch-black night, lighting just enough of the twisting road to make me nervous. I’ve always hated driving after sunset, especially on these remote ranch roads where the darkness feels absolute.
“Mama, can we have hot chocolate when we get home?” Nora asks from the backseat, her voice drowsy. It’s well past her bedtime, but the excitementof meeting her aunts and uncles has kept her wired all evening.
“If you’re still awake by then, sweetheart,” I answer, checking the rearview mirror. Her eyelids are already drooping, Scout’s golden head resting contentedly in her lap. “But I think someone’s about ready for dreamland.”
“Am not,” she protests, but the yawn that follows contradicts her words.
I smile despite my tension. Having the MacGallans at the main lodge has left me rattled in ways I didn’t anticipate. Seeing Kane—the brother Tomas spoke of most often—was like looking at a ghost of my father’s younger self. The same intensity in his eyes, the same stubborn set to his jaw. And the others, each carrying pieces of Tomas in their features, their mannerisms.
But it’s not just the family reunion that has me on edge. It’s the talk of Mikhail, the memories dredged up by having to explain our situation. After years of careful silence, speaking his name aloud feels like summoning a demon.
Scout suddenly lifts his head in the backseat, ears perked forward, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
“What is it, boy?” I murmur, slowing the SUV slightly.
The answer comes in a heart-stopping instant—a massive shape materializing in my headlights, tall and imposing. I slam on the brakes with a startled cry, thevehicle skidding slightly on the gravel road. Nora jerks awake with a yelp as Scout barks sharply.
“Mama!” she cries out, clutching the seat belt across her chest.
My heart hammers against my ribs as the shape resolves itself into a moose—enormous and majestic, its antlers spread wide, its dark eyes reflecting my headlights like twin moons. And beside it, a smaller shape emerges from the shadows—a calf, gangly and awkward, pressing close to its mother’s flank.
“It’s okay,” I breathe, my voice shaking as I put the car in park. “It’s just a moose and her baby. They won’t hurt us if we stay in the car.”
Scout continues to bark until I hush him firmly. The moose regards us without emotion, in no hurry to move from our path. I’ve lived here long enough to know better than to honk or try to drive around them. Moose are unpredictable at the best of times, and a mother with her calf is doubly so.
“She’s beautiful,” Nora whispers, her fear giving way to wonder.
“She is,” I agree, my pulse gradually slowing. “And very big. That’s why we always have to be careful driving these roads in the dark.”
After what feels like an eternity but is probably only a minute, the moose ambles across the road, her calf following on those spindly legs. I wait until they’ve disappeared into the trees before releasing along, shaky breath and putting the car back in drive.
“That was scary,” Nora says, her voice small.
“Just startling,” I correct gently, not wanting to feed her fears. “Animals cross the roads all the time up here. That’s why I need to keep my eyes on the road at all times.”
But as we continue towards home, I can’t shake the jittery feeling in my stomach. The moose was perfectly normal, yet in my heightened state, it felt like an omen. I find myself checking the rearview mirror more often than necessary, searching the darkness behind us for headlights that aren’t there.
By the time we pull up to our cottage, a cozy two-bedroom nestled among the pines about a mile from the main lodge, I’m exhausted from the tension. The security lights flicker on as we approach, lighting the wooden porch and the small stable where we keep Nora’s pony and my mare.
“Home sweet home,” I say with forced cheer, killing the engine.
Scout bounds out the moment I open the back door, circling the yard to check his territory while Nora and I make our way inside. The cottage feels especially welcoming tonight—the scent of pine and cinnamon greeting us as I flick on the lights.
“Bath or shower?” I ask, helping her out of her coat.
“Too tired for a bath,” she mumbles, rubbing her eyes. “Can I just wash my face?”
I nod, grateful for the reprieve. “Teeth too. And pajamas, not just a t-shirt, the nights are getting chilly.”
While she trudges to the bathroom, I make a quick round of the cottage, checking locks and drawing curtains. It’s a ritual I’ve performed every night for the past eight years. The security system Tomas installed is state-of-the-art, with motion sensors and cameras that feed directly to the security team at the main lodge. Still, I never feel entirely safe.
“All clean,” Nora announces, appearing in her unicorn pajamas, her face damp from washing.
I guide her to bed, tucking the quilt around her shoulders. She looks so small against the pillows, so vulnerable. The fierce love I feel for her is sometimes overwhelming.