Page 29 of Track of Courage

“Too late. Can I borrow a snow machine?”

A man looked up from where he sat with some kids. “Sure. All the snow machines are in the machine garage. Take one of the single seaters.”

Griffin came out behind him. “I should go with you.”

Sully shook his head and headed over to Dawson. From the looks of his ripped pants, he had duct-taped his wound. And his pants. “The blizzard is closing in fast. I need to go.” He glanced at Keely, back at Dawson. “You’ll be okay here until it passes. I’ll let Moose know.”

Wait—wait! Keely summoned her voice. “Sully!” He stopped, maybe startled at her outburst, but—“You’releavingus here?”

“You’re in safe hands. Wait it out.”

But ... oh, Goldie was going to completely freak out.

She must have worn panic in her face because Dawson cut his voice down. “I promise. I’ll keep you safe and get you back to civilization.”

And again, those eyes sort of reached in, held her.

He’s acop.The thought pulsed in her brain, then vanished, replaced withDon’t cry. She managed a nod and a tight smile.

“Maybe another day in Alaska won’t kill me.”

He frowned at that. “Hopefully not.”

She might have appreciated a more confident response.

“You did therightthing, coming here.”

Dawson turned from where he sat with a cup of coffee, leg extended, staring out into the darkness as the fire flickered in the hearth, listening to the wind howl outside the massive lodge.

Truthfully, he’d been trying to sort that out for an hour or more, as darkness descended, wondering, hoping he hadn’t somehow put them in danger, bringing a shooter to their doorstep.

Caspian sat, his back to him, leaning on him just a little, and he didn’t realize he had run his hand into the dog’s fur until Griffin Talon came up and Caspian’s body tensed, just for a second.

“Sully’s idea,” Dawson said. “Trying to outrun the storm.”

The man pulled up a chair, then straddled it, holding a cup of hot cocoa. Dawson put him in his late twenties, but with a seasoned look in his eyes. Brown hair, cut short in the back, a bit of scruff on his face, he wore a green canvas shirt, a thermal shirt under it, and black canvas pants. And a ring on his left hand.

“You would have gone through the ice without Fido here, scratching at our door.” Griffin dropped a hand onto Caspian and scratched his back. Caspian didn’t move from his perch at Dawson’s feet.

“He probably smelled the stew, wanted inside,” Dawson said.

One side of Griffin’s mouth lifted. “Maybe. Good dog.”

“He’s a stray. My buddy took him in, but he travels a lot, so I inherited him. A little bit needy, if you ask me. And has a mind of his own. Won’t fetch, but you want someone to take up all the room on the sofa? Caspian is your buddy.”

Griffin considered the dog, frowned. “Interesting. Well, goodthing Donny spotted you on the lake, headed for disaster. No one knows about the ice hole unless you see it from this direction.” He leaned back, took a sip of the cocoa. “Wanna talk about that gunshot?”

Dawson glanced at him. “You a cop?”

“Nope. But I’ve seen gunshots before.” He took another sip of cocoa. “And I sort of manage security around here. Just wondering what you brought to our doorstep.”

Right. “That’s fair.” He ran a hand across his face. “I dunno, actually. I was flying up to Copper Mountain with my cousin Moose Mulligan when we spotted the plane. When we put down, we found Cade Maverick dead.”

Griffin drew in a breath, then shook his head. “Oh no. I liked Mack. He dropped off supplies for us sometimes.”

Dawson took a sip of coffee. His knee had stopped aching, although it still felt fat. He left his leg extended. “He was shot in the head.”

Quiet. He looked over and Griffin’s mouth made a grim line. “You don’t say.”