Page 267 of Track of Courage

It snorted at her, and did she imagine it or did its hair raise? Her heart thundered—

Then its ears flicked back.

She held up her hands. “Listen. I’m not going to hurt you. Let’s just pretend we don’t see each other.”

The animal pawed the ground. Run? Or did she stop, drop, and roll—oh—

A gunshot spiked the air, and the moose jerked. For a second, she thought it might be hit, but it spooked and took off running in the opposite direction.

She pressed her hands to her throat, checking to see if her heart had escaped, then turned.

A man stood in the road in front of a newer model Dodge Ram. Expensive and clean, and when the man lowered his gun, she let out a breath.

He wore a puffer jacket, a scarf, a wool hat, and normal boots, like he’d just stepped off the plane from any of the tame Lower 48 states where moose didn’t try and eat you, and you didn’t get stranded in the forest during a blizzard. Okay, maybe that happened in Minnesota. Or Washington state.

But the man looked worried as he lowered his gun. “You okay?”

She nodded, shoved her hands into her pockets, and walked toward him. “I was...” What? Out for a morning walk? “I didn’t see him. He just appeared.”

“Right. They do that. Silent but deadly.” He smiled. Glanced past her. “You out here alone?”

She tried not to read into that.Please don’tbe a creep.“Not really.” She’d had a few voices in her head to keep her company, right? “I’m, um, from out of town though. I must have gotten turned around. You don’t have a cell phone, do you?”

He gave a half laugh. “Not one that works out here, but I suppose I could drive you to service.”

Right. “I left mine back at the ... um ... lodgings.”

“Staying at an Airbnb? This far off the grid?” He looked around, as if trying to locate it.

“The price was low.”

He offered a smile, and he wasn’t a bad-looking guy. Mid-thirties, maybe.

“My name is Keely,” she said. “And if you’re willing to give me a ride to cell phone service ... uh, I do need to make a call.”

He considered her a moment, then sighed, as if he had somewhere to be, and nodded. “Okay.” Walking back to his truck, he stowed the gun in the back. Then glanced at her. “It’s unlocked. And warm.”

She slid into his truck. Smelled new, the seats leather, and she pressed the button on the door to heat them up.

He got in, and her pulse moved to her throat, but he just glanced at her and smiled as he got in. “I’m Sloan, by the way.”

Then he put the truck in reverse, kept his gaze on the display, and started to back up. “Can’t turn around here. Need to head backward, to the nearest driveway.”

They pulled into a plowed driveway, and she spotted a nice-looking cabin in the sideview mirror, heat pumping out of a chimney. A few more yards and she would have seen it too. Her hand nearly went to the door, but maybe they didn’t have cell service either.

And he did turn around, heading toward town, hopefully.

“Seat belt,” he said when the car dinged.

Right. She pulled hers on, finding Goldie’s number in her memory. She’d call her, and Goldie would do the rest.

Including get ahold of Dawson.

He’d be so relieved. She hated thinking about what might have happened if—

The man pulled over. “We can get service here.” Opening his console box, he pulled out a phone. Looked like a burner phone, which felt weird for a man with such nice wheels, but...

“I need to make a call first, okay?”