CHAPTER 26

 

 

 

 

 

 

Friday, October 21st

Deer Creek, Montana

The sun had barely cleared the eastern horizon. Jennifer stood at the living room window, shielding her eyes from the brilliant glare that reflected off the snow. Snow had fallen most of the day Wednesday, and now everything was covered in a thick, soft, as yet undisturbed, blanket of snow. She stared at the snow, fighting to breathe normally, her throat aching from suppressed sobs, streaks of tears staining her cheeks.

“Kyle, where are you?” she whispered haltingly. “I’m so worried about you, and I need you. I don’t know if I can do this alone.”

She heard a door open at the end of the hallway, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. Emma appeared around the corner, bundled in sweat pants, thick socks and a robe. “I’m cold, Mom. Can we turn the heat on?”

Jennifer wiped the tears from her face. “I’ll go turn on the fireplace, doll. Did you sleep okay?”
Emma swung her head emphatically from side to side, a perturbed look on her face.
“Why not?” Jennifer asked. “I thought the three of you’d be warm in there?’
“It was kind of warm, but Spencer squirms around too much and kept pulling the covers off me.”
“Sorry, doll. We’ll try and come up with a better plan for tonight.”

They walked into the family room together, and Jennifer turned on the fireplace. She pulled the couch up close and laid a blanket over their legs after they sat down.

“Are you okay?” Emma asked.
“Why do you ask?”
“You’ve been crying again. What’s wrong?”
“Well, I guess I’m just worried about your dad. He’s not home yet, so I worry. It’s what moms do.”

Emma looked at her mother and smiled. “I think he’ll be fine. Grandma always tells me that I can pray about stuff, and God will take care of things. Every night I pray for dad to get home, and I think God’s going to hear me.”

Jennifer gave Emma a hug. “You’re sounding better. I think maybe I need to start asking, too, just so God knows I want your dad home as much as you do.”

“Grandma said you don’t like to pray too much, so I need to do it for the family.”

“When did she tell you that?” Jennifer asked, taken aback.

“When she was here at Easter and took me to church. She said you hated to go to church and do all that stuff. But I liked it. It felt good.”

“Well that was nice of grandma to be talking behind my back like that.”
Emma giggled. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
“I suppose,” Jennifer stammered, “but it’s not like I hate God or anything like that.”
“Then why don’t we ever go?”

Jennifer shrugged uncomfortably. “I went a lot when I was your age, but none of my friends did, and it always seemed like they were having more fun than I was. We had this really ancient minister. He was as deaf as could be, and having to listen to him shout the sermon every Sunday in his squeaky, old voice wasn’t very exciting.” Jennifer’s eyes glistened again at the memory of Sundays with her mother and sister.

“Did you pray when you were my age?”

“I did when I remembered to, but I think I forgot to a lot. When grandma and grandpa decided not to be married anymore I prayed myself to sleep every night for a month…but God didn’t listen, at least that’s what I thought then.” Jennifer found herself caught up in her memories. “I think that’s when I decided that I really didn’t like church anymore.”

Emma gave Jennifer an innocent smile and snuggled in closer to her. “After breakfast can I go out and make a snowman? I’ll take Spencer with me.”

“I suppose, but I’m going to need your help. We’re going to collect as much snow as we can today, and you and David will need to help. We’ll fill the bathtubs, the sinks, and all the buckets I can find so we don’t have to keep carrying water from the river, or from Mr. Patel’s; he’s really low on gas. Maybe the snow will help us get by for awhile.”

“Okay, Mom. But first I want to make the snowman.”

 

North Central Wyoming

Rose Duncan leaned forward in her recliner to once again check the unconscious man on the floor. He’d been in rough shape when she dragged him into the house the night before, and she hadn’t been entirely sure that he was going to make it. The man had lain for hours without moving, then finally, a little before sunrise, he’d started to show some signs of life. Now that he was moving more, Rose got up from her chair and went into the kitchen. She retrieved a bucket of honey from the pantry, scooped three spoonfuls into a small pan, then added water. Returning to the living room, she placed the pan on the woodstove that warmed the room.

The man moved again, and she turned to watch him. His foot slipped out from under the mound of blankets that covered him, and she noticed that, although his toes were still pale white, his skin was starting to regain a healthier tint. Carefully, she leaned down and placed a hand on his forehead, noting that his temperature had risen since she had last checked. She pulled the blanket back and put a hand on his chest. It felt warmer as well.

Gradually the man became more animated, until she noticed his eyes open just a crack. “Good morning,” Rose said. “How are you feeling?”

****

Kyle slowly drifted into consciousness. His body ached and his head throbbed, like someone had mercilessly beaten him with a club. He wanted to open his eyes, but the bright light in the room hurt too much. There was a voice saying words that his mind couldn’t process, and he had a vague notion to sit up, but his body declined the request. He tipped his head to the side and forced his eyes open, squinting to take in his surroundings. The room came into focus and Kyle saw gray sky through a picture window and someone sitting nearby with a large dog curled lazily on the floor beside them. Kyle closed his eyes and let his head slump back down. He tried to piece things together in his mind, but the thick mental fog wouldn’t clear. Soon he was drifting back to sleep.

****

Rose watched as the man came to and could tell that he was disoriented and confused. He hadn’t responded to her greeting but did at least seem to recognize that she was there and that she had spoken to him before he had drifted off to sleep again. His mind seemed to be in another place, reminding her of how confused she had felt a few years back when her horse had thrown her and she’d come to with her panicked son kneeling over her.

Rose was relieved that the man was coming around and hoped the steady progress meant he was returning to normal. She knew in cases of hypothermia that brain injuries were a possibility, and the thought of rescuing someone who wouldn’t fully recover had been worrying her for the fourteen hours since she’d pulled him into her home.

Tired and anxious, Rose walked over to the window and looked outside. The storm had mostly blown over during the night and left the area blanketed in a deep layer of snow. The trees behind the house were bent low, struggling under the heavy load of snow, and several branches had broken and were hanging to the ground. The light snow that was still falling was being carried by the wind, blowing around the fences, across the sidewalk, and behind the house, adding to drifts that were already over two feet high. Before closing the blinds to darken the room, Rose checked the outside thermometer and noticed that the temperature had climbed a couple of degrees, resting just below the 25º mark.

Rose found the book she’d been reading, opened it up to her bookmark, and stretched out on the couch with a favorite quilt pulled over her. It had been a long, fitful night with very little sleep, and after a few minutes of trying to read in the dimmed light, she gave up the fight to keep her eyes open. Rolling onto her side, she set her book on the floor and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. From across the room, she watched the man on the floor, his chest rising with deep, steady breaths, his eyes shut to the world. She worried about him, this mystery man, as she too drifted off to sleep.

****

Rose had no idea how long she’d been asleep when a loud shout broke the silence and jolted her awake. Across the room, the man was still lying on the floor, but his eyes were open and panic stricken. She quickly crossed the room and knelt beside him, speaking in a soft, reassuring voice. “It’s alright. I’m Rose, and you’re in my home. You’re going to be okay. Just try and relax.”

****

Kyle looked at Rose and breathed deeply, but did not answer, his mind trying to figure out who this woman was and how he’d gotten inside her house. The last thing he remembered was standing in the back of a truck, trying to decide where to go. Now he was lying on the floor of a home he’d never seen, being tended by a woman he didn’t know. Dim sunlight filtered in around the blinds, illuminating the room and its contents. There was a couch, a recliner, a coffee table stacked with books, and pictures and statues of horses and cowboys. The woman looked down at him, her brow furrowed. After a pause, she went to the woodstove and returned with a mug.

“Here, drink this,” she said. “It’s warm honey water. You need to get some warm liquids inside you.”

Feeling as if he was in a drugged stupor, Kyle struggled clumsily to get into a sitting position so he could take the mug. Rose grabbed his arm and helped him sit up, then put the mug to his lips.

Kyle took a sip and swallowed it, feeling the liquid warm its way to his stomach.

“You had a close call last night,” Rose said. “But I think in a couple of days you’re going to be fine.” Kyle watched her closely as she spoke.

She tipped the mug up again, and he took a few more swallows of the sweet, warm liquid. As the fluid settled in his stomach, Kyle felt as if the various systems in his body were being switched on one by one. A couple more sips and he reached up and took the mug from her, cradling it in his hands and drinking it slowly, enjoying the sensation of it warming his body.

“Let me help you to the bathroom,” Rose offered when he finished the drink. ”We need to be sure to get you in there regular the next couple of days. Your body has a lot of toxins in it that it needs to flush out.” She stood and reached down to help lift Kyle. Kyle grabbed her hand and, bracing with his other hand against the wall, struggled to his feet. His legs were strong enough to support his weight, but were stiff and sore and his balance was off, so he held her shoulder as they shuffled through the house to the bathroom.

Rose helped him to the toilet, then excused herself when she was sure he wouldn’t topple over. Kyle sat there, the haze that shrouded his mind continuing to clear like a fog gradually burning off with the morning sun. The memory of struggling across a field came to him, but he still couldn’t place himself in the house.

Pulling himself back to his feet, Kyle paused in front of the mirror, curious to see his reflection. He held onto the countertop, steadying himself in his weakened state, and was astounded by his changed appearance. Returning his gaze was a frail, underwear-clad man with a bushy beard and cheeks that were weathered and red. His dark, tired eyes scanned from side to side across his body, taking in the skinny, discolored arms and legs that were more white than pink, leaving him dismayed by his withered physique.

He turned from the mirror, let himself out of the bathroom, and carefully made his way back down the hall.
Rose was arranging blankets on the couch and turned when Kyle entered the room. “You going to make it okay?”
Kyle nodded.

“I’m going to get you situated here on the couch. It’ll be more comfortable than the floor. Tomorrow I’ll get you a bed, but this room is warmer with the stove.”

Kyle crossed the room, step by tender step, till he made it to his new bed. He lay back on the pillows Rose had piled at one end and pulled the blankets over himself. Rose refilled his mug and placed it on a table she’d pulled up by the end of the couch. “Here’s some more honey water. You need to drink a lot of this. Your body needs calories to burn to get your temperature back up. Seeing as I can’t get you to a hospital, this is the best I could come up with.”

Kyle pulled up into a semi-reclined position and took a long drink. His head was clearing, but he still felt foggy. He was grateful that the headache that had plagued him earlier had eased to a dull ache. He set the cup down and looked at Rose. “Thank you,” he said.

She smiled at him. “It’s nice to hear your voice. You’re welcome.”
Kyle leaned back into the pillows, feeling exhausted. “I’m Kyle.”
“Nice to meet you, Kyle. I’m Rose.”
Kyle smiled at Rose in place of a handshake. “How’d I get here?”

“That’s what I want to know,” she answered. “I found you in my front yard. Beyond that, I can’t say.” Kyle looked confused, and she could tell he was trying to come up with an answer to the question she had implied. “Listen, Kyle. Let’s get acquainted tomorrow. Today you just need to rest. You were pretty far gone when I found you, so just take it easy, drink lots of that honey water, and hit the bathroom every couple of hours. If you need anything else, just ask. Okay?”

“Are you a doctor?”

She laughed. “No, I’m a realtor, or at least I was. But I raised two boys in the Wyoming mountains who loved to be outside, and I learned to be prepared for a lot of different situations. I never had to treat my boys, but I guess it worked out well for you.”

Kyle nodded, the fatigue growing stronger, his eyelids heavier. Even as Rose spoke, he let his eyes fall shut and was soon fast asleep. He slept most of the day and into the night, waking occasionally, drinking his honey water, and wearing out a path to the bathroom. Once when he woke up he found sweatpants and a t-shirt placed on the table beside him. A large German Shepherd kept guard on the floor of the living room throughout the night, his head perking up to watch Kyle every time he got up from the couch, but he never barked.

 

Saturday, October 22nd

Sometime early the next morning, Kyle awoke feeling rested and relatively good. He sat up, emptied his mug and, for the first time, looked around the room without the mental fog that had plagued him the day before. The pale moonlight provided adequate light for him to see a few more details of Rose’s house, at least enough to tell that her home was decorated with a definite horse theme: horse pictures, figurines, a few trophies on a shelf over the woodstove, and a pair of spurs over the sliding door to the back yard. Even the furniture had a western feel to it, although it was too dark to make out the colors. He walked over to the window and peered outside. Seeing the snow brought back memories of the day before, and flashes of struggling towards the house came back to him. Shivering, he returned to his bed on the couch and lay down, pulling the warm blankets over him.

He was wide-awake when Rose walked into the living room an hour after the sun came up. “Good morning,” Kyle said cheerfully.

Rose started a bit, then returned his greeting with a smile. “Good morning. Looks like you’re feeling better.”

He nodded. “I feel worlds better. It’s amazing what thirty hours of sleep will do. My arms and legs still ache, but the rest of me feels remarkably good.”

“You were in rough shape when you got here. I’m surprised you’re doing as well as you are.”

Kyle looked at Rose for the first time with a clear head. She had sandy-blonde hair, with a bit of natural curl to it that was pulled back in a loose ponytail. A slender nose and prominent cheekbones adorned a face that was clear and tan. Her lips were a little on the thin side, and when she flashed her farm-girl smile, they revealed teeth that were a little too straight and a little too white. As to her age, Kyle estimated that Rose was in her early forties, but knew he could be off by five years either way.

She wore a thick, white robe tied snuggly at her waist that seemed to hide a slender body with feminine curves. She appeared confident, not at all intimidated at having a strange man in her home. He watched as she walked over to the woodstove and tossed in some wood.

“I bet you’re hungry,” she said, turning back to Kyle.

Kyle nodded. “I am. I can’t remember the last time I ate.”

Soon Kyle was sitting at the kitchen table, eagerly feasting on a plate of scrambled eggs. “This is delicious,” he said, wiping food from his beard when he was done. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

Rose took his empty plate to the sink, then sat down across from him at the table. “You don’t need to thank me, Kyle, but I would like to know who you are. I’ve been pretty curious this last day and a half.”

Kyle cleared his throat. “Well, to make a long story short, I’m Kyle Tait, from Deer Creek, Montana. It’s a community just a little east of Missoula. I was in Houston for work on September 2nd, and I’m in the process of going back home. The snowstorm caught me off-guard, and somehow I ended up here. That’s it in a nutshell.”

“You’ve walked here from Houston?” Rose asked, her eyes wide in disbelief.

Kyle nodded. “Well, I guess not from Houston, but from San Angelo. It’s a little closer.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. I’ve met a few people heading in different directions, but no one from that far away. Most were just trying to get across the state or to Montana or Colorado. How many miles have you covered?”

“By my calculations, I’d say I’m right around a thousand miles, with close to six hundred to go.”
“What’s in Deer Creek?”
“My wife, Jennifer, and our three kids. What about you, Rose. Are you here alone?”

“Yeah, but I do have Max,” she said reaching down to pat the German shepherd resting beside her chair. “I have two boys. Anthony’s with the marines in Germany, at least he was last I knew, and William graduated from college last spring and took a job in Atlanta. I’d give anything to know how they’re doing right now. My husband, Bruce, was back East on September 2nd, but I don’t expect him to be showing up anytime soon. Your kids are lucky to have a devoted father like you,” she said, with a note of sadness.

“Thanks,” Kyle said. “I just pray everything’s okay when I get back. Listen, there’s one thing I want to know. I can remember walking in the snow for what seemed like forever, but I don’t remember coming in your house. How’d I end up here? Was I just too cold and don’t remember.”

Rose shook her head and motioned to her German shepherd. “No, Max saved you. I was about to crawl into bed when he started barking pretty crazy-like. He’s usually quiet, as you’ve probably noticed. The last time I remember him barking like that was when we had a cougar lurking around. Anyway, I tried to get him to shut up, but he kept on, so I came out to the living room to see what was up. When I looked out the window, I saw a little bit of movement and realized there was a person in the front yard. After that it was just a matter of dragging you in, which took a little bit because you weren’t exactly cooperative.”

“Sorry,” said Kyle. “I was a little out of it.”

“You were more than a little out of it. Somebody must be looking out for you is all I can say. Max is starting to get old, and it takes quite a bit for him to get excited. He’s even quit barking at the UPS truck. Why or how he noticed you is beyond me. Of course I’m kind of glad he did. It would have been kind of creepy to find a body in the front yard when the snow melted off.”

Kyle laughed. “Maybe I’d have made good fertilizer. You could have had a nice patch of green grass come springtime. Seriously though, I owe you and Max my life. I really don’t know how to repay that kind of a debt. Thanks just doesn’t cut it.”

“I’m sure you’d have done the same thing. That’s just what people do.”

“Well, not everyone,” responded Kyle, “but that’s another story.” They sat in silence at the table before Kyle spoke up again. “How long do you think the snow will last?”

Rose looked out the window at the sky. “It’s hard to say. This is pretty early for winter, even in Wyoming. It’ll probably warm up in a day or two and start to melt off, and then most of it should be gone in five, maybe six days at the most, especially in the areas where it hasn’t drifted.”

“I’ll get out of here as soon as I can. If you like, I can even leave today. I’m feeling pretty good. The cart I’ve been pulling is just a couple of miles back, and with the better weather, I’m sure I can find some shelter. Then once the roads are clear, I can keep going. Your husband would probably worry about you if he knew I was here.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’d care too much. You don’t seem to be too threatening, and I’ve got Max to protect me. Besides, it’s been pretty quiet around here for the last month and a half. You’re welcome to stay until traveling is good.”

“I appreciate that, and don’t worry, I’ll get out of here as soon as the roads are good. Maybe I can work off some of my debt while I’m here.”

“I’ve been doing pretty good on my own, but I’ll take a look and see if there’s anything I need help with.”

Rose cleared the dishes and sent Kyle back to the couch to lay down. With little to occupy him, Kyle spent the rest of the day napping, pacing the house, flipping through old magazines, and stretching the stiffness and aches out of his arms and legs. His body felt like it had spent twelve hours at the gym, which Rose, with her eclectic wealth of knowledge, explained was a build up of chemicals, a result of his muscles being short of blood and oxygen when he nearly froze. At her direction, he continued to drink the honey water mixture and, consequently, spent a lot of time in the bathroom.

Kyle watched the thermometer throughout the day, never seeing it rise above 30º. Water dripped from the roof, but the amount of snow on the ground didn’t seem to change. In the distance, he could see the delivery truck he had briefly used for shelter, the last place he remembered clearly, and tracks in the front yard where Rose had pulled him through the snow, which were now mostly drifted over. Recalling the bitterness of the storm, and noting the size disparity between the two of them, Kyle wondered at the effort it must have taken Rose to get him inside.

In the late afternoon, Kyle heated up some water on the woodstove and took a long, hot bath, reflecting that never in his life had bathing seemed like such a luxury. He scrubbed his body from head to toe three times and soaked until the water was cold and brown and his skin was shriveled. He rinsed with clean water, then climbed out of the tub and dried off, feeling truly clean for the first time in weeks. Rose had provided him with deodorant, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and shaving supplies, and by the time he emerged from the bathroom, he felt almost human again.

Dinner was a simple meal of deer steak and potatoes with gravy, but was like manna to Kyle’s still-recovering body. Dinner conversation started slowly, but gradually picked up momentum, revolving around their families and experiences since the attack. Between the two of them, they’d tallied just a few short hours of human interaction over the past six weeks, and this pent up need to share soon had their conversation flowing like a mountain stream in the spring, spilling haphazardly over its banks as it shed a season’s worth of build-up.

Rose shared her story with Kyle, that she had grown up on a ranch, loved her horses, and done barrel racing as a kid, then eventually gone to college in Colorado and met and fell in love with a city guy. Bruce was into computers and could barely tell a horse from a cow, but love had won out and they’d gotten married. After graduation, they’d moved to Denver where he was successful, and she was unhappy. When their kids were six and eight, they’d bought the place in Wyoming and moved back closer to where she’d grown up. There she was happy, but he wasn’t. Bruce had worked from home and traveled to meet with clients as needed, and that had been okay, but the last few years he’d needed to meet with clients a lot, she observed, which left her alone more and more often. She enjoyed her independence and the time it gave her to spend with her horses, as well as the less structured nature of her job in real estate, but in the rural setting, the work was more of a pastime with a part-time income, rather than a full-time occupation.

Kyle told Rose about the experiences he’d had on his journey, the highs and lows and the challenges he’d faced. It felt good to share his stories with someone, to talk about things he hadn’t been able to talk about, except for occasional entries in his journal, and some of which he would probably never share with his family. To talk about escaping death and taking a life, after mulling it over in his mind for weeks, was therapeutic. He bragged on his kids and the good people that had helped him on his way, and voiced how he worried about his family and what they might be facing without him there to take care of them.

At sundown, Rose dug out a candle, and they talked and laughed and cried in a lavender-scented haze until the candle burnt itself out. Neither of them wanted the evening to end, the conversation being so welcome and humanizing, but candles were scarce, and the periods of silence grew more frequent.

The clock on the wall indicated it was well after midnight, so when Kyle struggled to stifle an extended yawn, Rose directed him to Anthony’s bedroom, where he’d gotten some clothes earlier in the day. The room had been empty for over a year, Rose explained, but she had left it as it was when Anthony joined the service so that he would still have his room to come home to when he was on leave. In flickering candlelight, Kyle took a look around, noticing an assortment of posters on the walls ranging from the Swedish bikini team, to fighter jets, to Nickelback concert shots, along with a large marine logo painted on the wall across from the bed. On the desk was a framed picture of a young girl, who Rose identified as Anthony’s fiancée. Other than the fact it was far too tidy, the room looked like the bedroom of a typical teenage boy.

Kyle wished Rose a goodnight and hurried to climb between the sheets in the chilly room, nestling deep under the covers, ready for a night of much needed sleep.