Page 6 of High Country Escape

“Go, boy genius.” Deni made a shooing motion.

Dalton and Eldon left—Eldon to join May in her booth and Dalton to the parking lot. His big plans for the evening included video games, then a little work on an update on the reservation program he had designed.

Nothing wrong with spending a Saturday night in, he told himself. It wasn’t the image most people had of a singletwentysomething. But he liked his own company. He preferred it even, much of the time. He could go out anytime he liked. Debra would have accepted his invitation.

But he didn’t want to go out with Debra. Roxanne, on the other hand... She was even prettier than Debra, but quiet, like him. She had struck Dalton as a little sad. Maybe he could cheer her up, or at least listen while she talked. He was good at listening. But if she didn’t want that, maybe they could just be with each other, without a lot of expectations.

Once the idea was planted, he couldn’t shake it. He wanted to go out with Roxanne.

It figured. The first woman who had interested him in, well, a long time, and he didn’t even know her last name or how to find her.

Roxanne ended upbuying the fairy painting and a pair of earrings from May and Chris’s booth. From there she had moved on to purchase a mug from a local potter, homemade jelly from the 4-H club, herbal tea from someone else and cookies from the high school cheerleaders. Satisfied that she had done her part to support local causes, she carried her purchases to her car and set out for home.

In keeping with her goal of making a fresh start, the place she had rented was unlike anywhere else she had lived. It was small—a genuine tiny home—and resembled a cross between an old-fashioned train caboose and a child’s playhouse. It had dark green siding and cream-colored trim, and a cupola bedroom with a stained glass window. The front porch was large enough to hold a single chair and a doormat, and the whole thing was parked in a clearing in the woods seven miles from town. The rental agent had described the place as “remote and quirky”—two adjectives Roxanne couldn’t help noting could also be applied to her.

The road to the house was narrow and winding, with a steep drop-off on one side. Roxanne didn’t look forward to trying to negotiate the route in the dark, but she hoped by the time she had to do so, she would be so familiar with the route she didn’t have to worry about driving off over the side.

She was about five miles from home, half lost in thoughts of what she might make for dinner, when she became aware of a vehicle behind her. It was approaching fast and had on its bright lights, despite the fact that it was still full daylight. There must be some kind of emergency. She searched for a place to pull over to let the other driver pass, but there was none. Thick trees closed her in on the left, and the steep canyon dropped off less than three feet from the right side of her car.

She tapped her brakes. Maybe the other driver didn’t realize how close they were to her. But the vehicle—a truck, she decided—kept coming. She flinched as its horn blared, the raucous sound insisting she move out of the way. But there was nowhere for her to go. She gripped the wheel so tightly her arms ached and sped up as much as she dared. But no matter how fast she drove, the truck behind her kept gaining.

Roxanne’s car skidded around a curve and she struggled to get back on the road. “Slow down!” she shouted, though she knew the other driver couldn’t hear her. Her back right tire dropped onto the gravel shoulder again and she fought the steering wheel. Then a terrible jolt shook her as the truck collided with her car, and she lost control entirely, her windshield shattering and the seat belt biting painfully into her upper body, a silent scream ripping through her, along with a sudden, blinding pain.

Chapter Three

Dalton didn’t know if this was the most foolish thing he had ever done, but it had to rank up there. Carter probably would have laughed him out of the room, and his sister, Bethany, would have given him that pitying look he had seen other women give men who did useless things. His oldest brother, Aaron, would have probably cited some law he was breaking—harassment, or stalking maybe. But Eldon had told him if he liked a woman he should go ahead and ask her out, so that’s what he was doing.

Except first he had to find Roxanne. He remembered May had mentioned Roxanne was renting one of the tiny houses on Robbie Lusk’s ranch. Hannah Gwynn, a search and rescue volunteer whose day job was as a paramedic, had mentioned going on a call to that neighborhood a few weeks ago. “There’s six of these houses, each one a different color, one after the other out on County Road 3,” Hannah had said. All he had to do was knock on doors until he found the right one.

He drove slowly along the winding, narrow road. Through the trees lining the road, he caught glimpses of the drop-off on the right. There were probably some spectacular views, maybe even some good climbing, in that canyon. But he couldn’t take his eyes off the road long enough to scout things out. He had no idea how far out the tiny houses were and didn’t want to miss them. How tiny were they, exactly? Big enough for a grown person to live in, but what if they were hidden from the road behind all these trees?

He should probably turn around, he thought, even as he kept driving. What was Roxanne going to say when he showed up at her house? That was stalker behavior, right? She would probably call the sheriff. Who could blame her? He really needed to turn around now.

Lights up ahead distracted him. He leaned forward, straining for a better look. There were two cars. One of them was tilted at an odd angle, way over to the right. The other wasn’t a car, but a truck. The kind with a lifted body, oversize tires and big welded bumpers.

Dalton slowed, then stopped in the road next to the scene. The car was on its side, balanced on the edge of the road, caught by a sturdy pine rooted in the side of the canyon. The truck was still running, the driver’s door open. He spotted a man up on the side of the car, trying to wrench open the driver’s door.

Dalton moved his Jeep over and parked, then got out and jogged toward the wreck. “Wait!” he called out to the driver of the truck. “I’m calling for help.” As he ran, he pulled out his phone and punched in 911. He thought he heard someone answer, but the call immediately dropped. A check of the phone showed a very weak signal. He thumbed open his search and rescue app and typed in a message, asking for help and reporting a motor vehicle accident and his location.

Meanwhile, the man from the truck had ceased pulling at the door of the car. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“I’m with Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue,” Dalton said. “Let me help.”

He started toward the man and the car, but the man jumped down and barreled into him, knocking him to the ground.

“Hey!” Dalton struggled to rise. The man raced past him, jumped in the truck and sped away.

“Help! Is someone there? Please help.”

The woman’s voice was weak, but clear. Dalton stood and made his way to stand beside the car. “Help is on the way,” he said. “Where are you hurt?”

“My head,” she said. “And my shoulder. I’m caught in the seat belt. Please help me.”

“Try not to move too much,” he said. “We need to secure your vehicle before we can get you out of there.” Though the RAV4 rested against the trunk of the pine tree, movement the wrong way could send it plummeting into the canyon. Dalton needed to wait for more help to arrive. They would assess the situation and work together to secure the vehicle, free the woman and get her to treatment for her injuries. But meanwhile, he needed to keep her calm.

“Are you by yourself?” she called.

“There was another man here, but he left,” Dalton said. “But more help will be here soon.”