Chapter One
Mima Etu angled the dog sled, helping her excited team advance around a dangerous bend in the trail. With one mukluk on the runner, she pedaled with the other, helping the team keep their pace as they climbed the embankment running alongside the river. Her legs trembled, and she sucked in short, sharp breaths from the exertion, but there was no way she’d let Mary win.
Just past dawn, the foggy morning promised a mild day. She filled her lungs with wilderness air, thrilled to be out running so early in the morning. Sledding was food for her soul.
Mima and her best friend, Mary, pushed both teams hard, fighting for the lead along the straightaway, their sleds mere inches from each other. Where Mary had a team of seven small Samoyeds, Mima ran three Siberian huskies and two big Greenlands. Mary’s team was quick while Mima’s had more power.
“You’re out of shape this year,” Mary shouted over the jingling sled bells.
“It’s the first day of the year, asshole.”
They both laughed and pushed their teams harder.
“I’m gonna beat you again,” Mary teased, pedaling behind her sled, hustling the dogs along the trail. Her sled picked up momentum and pulled a few yards ahead.
“Like hell. Haw!” Mima’s team took the left turn tight around a rock cut, gaining the advantage. They continued quickly along the trail, weaving around snow-covered pines and boulders bordering the river’s edge, but on the next straightaway, Mary’s team charged forward, leaving Mima in her snowy wake.
Those damn dogs of hers are quick on the line. Mima smiled despite Mary passing her. The woman always gave her a run for her money, and she enjoyed the challenge. One of these days she’d beat her, and then she could rub it back in her face.
“Easy... Easy,” she called out to her team. They slowed to a leisurely pace along the trail, allowing Mima the chance to gaze at the surrounding wilderness without distraction.
She loved it out here. This was her life and her home. A sandy beach down south didn’t hold a candle to the crisp, white scenery of midwinter on her land. City skyscrapers held no promise of adventure as these towering mountains did. As far as she was concerned, the world outside of this land did not exist.
Her sled—still decorated from the Christmas season—jingled with every bump as the team ascended the foothills toward her home. They struggled up the embankment, panting as they dug their paws into the trail and booked it toward home. The two Greenlands, Musti and Little Red, pulled hard; their job was carrying the weight in the back. Mima hopped off the runners to help ease their burden, but as soon as they crested the hill, the team suddenly halted.
Mima caught her chest on the handlebar, nearly toppling over the sled. “What the hell?”
Mary’s team stood silent in the middle of the trail with the brake secured in the snow. Their snouts and ears pointed anxiously toward some unseen presence beyond the trees, while Mary trudged through the deep snow around the bush line.
Mima set her brake in the snow and stepped on it, wondering what had caught her friend’s attention.
“What is it?”
Mary waved her arm, gesturing to come closer. “I think it’s a plane.”
With her stomach in knots, Mima made her way over and halted when she eyed a crumpled blue-and-white Cessna. A sprawling birch jutting up alongside the steep embankment was all that kept the plane from plunging into the river below.
“Do you think that’s the plane we heard yesterday evening?”
Mary shrugged. “I don’t know, but it looks like a recent crash. What if there’s blood and guts in there?” She stared up at Mima, her chin quivering.
After one of Mary’s dogs jumped at a spinning plane propeller a few years back, she had nightmares for months and hadn’t gone near a plane since. Mima couldn’t blame her.
She offered a reassuring smile. “I’ll go look. Stay with the dogs before they yank the brakes and take off. They’re getting restless.”
Mary nodded resolutely and headed back to man the teams.
Eerie silence charged the air as Mima faced the plane, every muscle in her body tight. The plane was so crumpled she couldn’t tell if it had wheels or skis.
She pulled herself up to look into the cockpit and gasped. A man lay slumped over the steering wheel, his head leaning against the dashboard. Somehow he had managed to stay in his seat even though he wore no seat belt. His skin appeared gray, and dried blood covered the left side of his face.
“There’s a pilot here,” Mima shouted. “I think he’s dead.”
Mary’s eyes widened. “Did you check his pulse?”
With a trembling hand, Mima reached through the busted window and pressed her fingertips to his throat. The pilot twitched, and she yanked her hand back as if burned. “He’s alive! We need to get him out of here fast.”
She examined the crumpled pilot door, her mind racing with a plan. “Hang in there, buddy.”
The whole right side of the plane was buried deep in the snow, lodged against the birch tree, and the left side must have hit the ground first, which caused it to crumple. As she glanced back at the dogs, an idea suddenly came to her. Using the team’s strength to pull the door might be the pilot’s only hope.
“Mary, unhook my team and bring them over. I need them to pull the door open.”
Mima stayed with the pilot as Mary rushed back to her sled. She removed the gangline connecting the dogs to the sled and secured it to the hook line. Holding Nitchie’s collar, Mary then guided the team to the plane. After a few minutes struggling to set them up straight ahead of the door, she tossed Mima the snow hook to wrap around the handle of the pilot door.
Excited and charged-up, the dogs barked and jumped—their instinct ready to pull.
Mima tied the hook end around the door handle. When she was sure the hook would hold, she motioned for Mary to stand by the dogs. “They need to pull hard or this door won’t budge.”
“Okay.” Mary jumped and clapped her hands, revving up the team, and shouted, “Hike hard!”
The team lunged forward, pulling the gangline taut and snapping the crisp air like a whip. Metal creaked and groaned, shifting from the frame as the dogs worked the line. “Hike!” Another hard tug and the door broke away, hurtling into the snow behind the wheel dogs.
“Whoa!” Mary lunged for Nitchie, the lead dog, and grabbed his collar before they took off down the trail without their musher.
“Now for the fun part,” Mima said when Mary returned. “He’s not a small guy.”
Mary glanced inside. “Maybe if we both take an arm we can pull him out. We’re not that weak.”
Each of them grabbed a shoulder and tugged hard, dragging his limp, heavy body out of the cockpit and onto Mima’s sled. They tucked him in tight with the blankets she always had on board. When the hard part was over, the girls both sighed in unison.
Mary stared at the frozen pilot, her face a mask of curious uncertainty. “Should we get him to town?”
If it were a perfect world, this wouldn’t have happened to begin with, and even though Mima knew the pilot needed medical assistance, the sun had already begun to set. They’d never make it in time. Sledding at night around here was too dangerous.
She contemplated the best course of action. “It’ll be dark soon, and he needs heat. Besides, you still need to make it home too.” She looked around the surrounding bush, thinking she didn’t want to bring him home where she lived alone. But how dangerous could a half-dead man be? “Let’s bring him to my place and see what happens first. I could always radio a rescue chopper in the morning if he needs it.”
Mary patted the man’s shoulder. “You’re lucky we found you, buddy.” Then she went back to her sled and yanked her snow hook out of the ground.
“Hike!”
Both teams jumped at the command and surged forward. They maintained a brisk pace, pushing the dogs to the peak of their power and speed. As she pulled away from the crash site, Mima looked back in the direction of the plane. What was he doing flying alone way out here? Sure, plane crashes happened often enough, but flying over this area during midwinter was like knocking on death’s door. This range of mountains was known for its turbulent winds.
Either the pilot lost direction or he had to fly over this area. Either way, he had a rabbit’s foot up his ass that she and Mary had taken the old trail today. Otherwise, he would have died out here, alone, in that wreck of a plane.
* * * *
A couple hours later, Mima and Mary stood at the foot of the bed in Mima’s cabin. They stared down at the stranger, each one lost in their own thoughts.
“Where do you think he’s from?” Mary asked quietly.
“I don’t know, but I’ve never seen a man around here with that many earrings.”
Two gold hoops in one ear, and a single diamond stud in the other made the guy look like a rugged gypsy. Wavy, dark brown hair to his broad shoulders matched his five-o’clock shadow. Now that his color had returned—an olive complexion—Mima thought him handsome, even with the jagged scar across his right cheek.
He looked like a modern outlaw.
Too much time had passed since she’d felt attraction to a man, and of course, finding one near dead was the best she could do. “Is it me, or is he one of the finest- looking men you’ve ever seen?” She bit her lip and glanced over his form.
They’d removed his frozen clothes, leaving only his boxers on, and tucked him under the thickest blankets Mima owned.
“I guess so,” Mary said, angling her head to check him out more. “That missing baby toe is a downer though.”
The toe could have been lost to frostbite, even though he didn’t look like the mountain-climbing type. But the jagged scars all over him? There were so many, Mima stopped counting at twenty. Some were short, thin cuts, or small, circular scars. The others were thick and long as if somebody had whipped him, or slashed at him with a knife. She shuddered at how he must have suffered through all that.
She’d cleaned the blood on his face with a warm washcloth and stitched up the cuts where his head had smashed into the window. Thank goodness her brother had been accident-prone and Mother had taught her what to do. The pilot didn’t move an inch as the needle and thread pierced his skin. Either he was seriously out cold or his pain tolerance was impressive.
Anxiety flooded Mima’s stomach and she swallowed. The pilot had a body like a hero from an action movie, with thick, corded arms and wide shoulders. A broad chest peppered with dark hair tapered to a narrow waist, all the way down to a set of strong, sculpted legs. Tight boxer briefs stretched taut over the distinct bulge at his crotch. She blew out a shaky breath and blushed, dragging her gaze away from him.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Mary’s eyes glinted with amusement as she clucked her tongue.
“What?”
“That you’re fucking lucky to finally have a man in your bed.”
Mima laughed, shoving her best friend’s shoulder. “The guy’s half-dead. Give him a break.” Even as she said the words, she couldn’t help eyeing him up again.
“Well, I need to get home before it gets dark, or Tom might get worried. Think I should look in the guy’s plane and bring by his luggage or whatever personal things he might have in there? He didn’t have a wallet on him.”
Mima shrugged. “That’s up to you. He’s stuck here for now anyway until I decide what to do with him. So far, I think he’s only out from the bump on his head and the cold.”
“Poor guy, eh?” Mary gave the pilot a pat on the foot before giving Mima a big hug. “Okay, g’night, babe. Have fun. I’ll drop by as soon as I can.”
“Radio when you get home, okay?”
“Sure thing, boss.” Mary tapped the heels of her boots and saluted her. Mima laughed and gave Mary a friendly push toward the door. The woman was playing a comedienne at the worst time.
Soon her home was quiet, and she stood alone, staring down at the stranger in her bed. He wasn’t out of danger yet, and she had a feeling when he woke up there could be more trouble to come.