backed away , her hair dancing along his cheeks, and then lowered her mouth to his. He was cold, his skin wintry. “Promise me you’ll not die. Promise me.”
And she waited, her heart in her throat, for his response.
“I … promise … .”
***
Blackened poles stuck at awkward angles in the midst of a field of ashes. Her insides growing frosty, Clementine stared at the remains of Ezekiel’s cabin, visually picking out the few items that hadn’t been destroyed – a cook pan, the hull of the wood stove. There was no evidence of the radio.
Wandering across the space, she kicked the toe of her boot at the ground for any sign of wh at had happened and stopped sharp at a print burnt into the remains of the doorway. She crouched and laid her hand inside. Same size. Same pattern as what she’d seen outside her place.
She sniffed the air. Gasoline. Someone had set this fire.
Ezekiel had been trapping for a couple days before he’d met her. Whoever shot him could have burnt his cabin and caught up, but only i f they were experienced enough at tracking. Even for an experienced tracker it would be a hard hike over terrain that could kill the best of men.
T hat meant this was deliberate. Someone was after Ezekiel Knapp. Why? He’d given no indication he had any enemies here and had behaved with her as a peaceful man.
Which brought to mind another thought. They hadn’t killed him, but injured him instead. Why wait until he was away from home to do that?
She headed back toward the sled. None of that mattered right now because he needed help, and she wouldn’t find it here. This meant more delay, more time without his receiving medical care, and him in an already tenuous state of health.
She knelt down beside the sled, taking hold of his hand. “We’ve got to go further,” she said. “Find somewhere indoors and warm tonight. There’s nothing left here.”
She’d not stop until they found shelter or she ran out of gas. She kept that to herself. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.
Ezekiel h ad to be made warm. The cold would be too much for him. She buried her fear and remounted the snowmobile.
E ach mile appeared the same as the last, an infinite ice-covered wasteland with no sign of anything or anyone. Come late afternoon, her fear returned. What if there was no one to find? What if she wasted her time and he died? Once again, it’d be her fault.
She could have saved Nathan, but she’d refused to go for help. I can handle it , she’d told him, though he’d protested again and again.
Fool woman. Take the dog and go.
But she’d wanted to prove something, prove she was all the things he’d asked her to be.
Clementine slowed and glanced behind. There was nothing left to prove this time. Ezekiel had already shown her what weaknesses were. Faced with his presence, his demands, she’d given in, just like she had with Nathan.
Come with me to Alaska, he’d said.
She’d stared into his eyes, contemplating his grand words. And protested. Alaska? But Nathan, that’s so far.
It’s where I want to be, and if you love me …
The memory faded.
She turned her gaze forward to an opening in the trees and swerved the snowmobile left in an arc. The opening spread wider toward a frozen pond surrounded by beaver-gnawed tree trunks. She dismounted and tested the ice, walking out a few feet. A shape on the opposite side caught her eye. Pointed, wrapped in canvas.
“Teepees.”
Her heart pounding in her chest, she returned to the snowmobile and drove out onto the pond. She crossed it in minutes and pulled up outside the cone-shaped home. It’d bring warmth. A fire inside would heat the walls, and she could warm him and buy some time.
She set to work, shifting him off the sled and through the door. Weariness pulled at her small body. He was more and more difficult to handle as he grew sicker. Hauling him inside, she made him a bed and wrapped him tight, pausing only long enough to capture her breath
Learning to Kill: Stories