A Bride For The Mountain Man

The following seven days were a mix of self-recrimination, doubts and insecurities as she attempted to pull herself out of the muck and consider her options for the future. That was when she contacted Rachel, a close friend who had grown up in the same affluent world as Meredith. Of all her friends, Rachel was the only one who was sure to understand the importance of Meredith’s decision. And why she absolutely had to succeed.

It was decided that Meredith would use some of her savings to spend a few weeks vising Rachel in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. In addition to rest and relaxation and letting her brewing emotions settle, the reprieve would offer the opportunity to come up with an achievable plan. Where to live? Where to work? What dreams to chase?

To think she’d put so much energy into proving that she could make it on her own. An idealistic notion that, while important in a lot of ways, felt ridiculous and meaningless now that her life hung in the balance. This was the only fight that mattered. Survival.

And it was all on her.

Her thoughts ended when her knees buckled against the strong wind for a second time. She managed to stay standing, but it was by the skin of her teeth. Still no sign of that light, and she knew—in the way a person knows—that she did not have much left in her.

Lord. She was really going to die out here. Alone.

Why bother trying for another step, let alone ten, when her body, heart and brain all knew the truth? She wouldn’t find that light. She wouldn’t reach safety. She didn’t know how long it would take, but yes, death was pounding on her door. Soon, not much longer, she guessed, he’d kick down the door and that would be that. And she would take her last breath. Have her last thought. Perhaps, if she had the strength, she’d cry her last tear.

So why bother? Why not just drop to the ground and...no. No!

She wasn’t about to give up until she was left with no other choice. And no matter how close that moment might be, she wasn’t there yet. She’d fight for as long as she could. Simple as that.

“Help me,” she whispered the prayer. “Send an angel to guide me. Please?”

A sound other than the howling wind made it to her ears. What was that? She stopped, listened harder and heard the sharp, abrupt noise again and then again. It sounded like barking.

A dog? Yes. Had to be a dog.

More barking, and it seemed to be growing closer. Where there was a dog, there was probably a human. An actual person! Meredith turned in a circle, trying to gauge which direction the sounds were coming from. Close, she thought, but...where?

Oh, God, show me where.

“Help!” she called out, hoping her voice would cut through the storm as cleanly as the dog’s continuous series of barks. “Help me, please! I’m—”

Through the darkness a dog emerged, followed by another, both barking and moving far swifter than she would’ve thought possible. And then, they were at her side. Two dogs, not one. They were covered in snow, whining now instead of barking, and one started nipping at her ankles while the other mouthed her sock-covered hand and tugged.

“Hello?” she yelled. “Your dogs are with me! Hello?”

No response other than the dogs, who were still whining and nipping and tugging. Were they out here alone? She hollered into the wind again and waited, watched to see if anyone would answer or a human figure would emerge from the same direction the dogs had.

And...no.

Okay. Okay. Her salvation wasn’t right around the corner. The dogs had probably gotten loose and were trying to find their own way back home. She could barely keep herself standing. What was she to do with two dogs who were likely just as lost as she was?

Still. They were company. She was no longer alone.

“Hey, guys,” she said, her voice weak. “I’m happy to see you, but I’m afraid I’m not going to be of much help. I have no idea where I am or where you two came from.”

The dog that was nipping at her heels stopped for a second to growl. Softly, not menacingly, and then returned to gently prodding at her heels. The dog who had her hand tugged harder and whined plaintively. As if to say, “Come on! Pay attention to what we’re doing! Don’t just stand there. Get moving! Lead us to safety, why don’t you?”

“I don’t know where safety is,” she said. Tears flooded her eyes. “I wish I did.”

Dropping her hand, the dog barked and ran ahead a few feet. Faced her and barked again. The other dog barked, too, and then shoved its head against the back of her legs, toward dog number one.

She stumbled from the pressure, almost fell, but the pooch pushed to her side and she grabbed onto its fur for stability and managed to keep herself standing.

Her numb brain clicked into gear. Were they trying to get her to move? Were they trying to lead her to safety? That was how it seemed, and because she needed something to believe in, to propel her into action, she chose to accept that these dogs were her saviors and all she had to do was follow them. Trust in them to get her out of this mess.

So she did.

Once the dogs saw she was walking, one stayed at her side while the other would run up a few feet, stop and bark until she made her way to that position. Over and over, this pattern was repeated. She almost fell a few times, but by the grace of God and the dog beneath her hand, she didn’t. The storm wailed on, the cold grew even more bitter, and she knew that if not for these dogs—angels, they were angels—she wouldn’t have made it this long.

She would have fallen. And this time, she would not have gotten back up.

Suddenly, Dog A—the one setting their direction—started barking even more exuberantly, and that was when Meredith saw the light.

She hadn’t imagined it!

With tremendous effort, she pushed herself forward, watched the dog run ahead a few more feet, and she pushed herself again. A house! An actual house. She could see the outline now.

She was so close that she was almost on top of it.

The storm had grown increasingly worse since she’d first seen the porch light, before her accident. She should have realized that by the time she returned to approximately the same position on foot, the snow would’ve fully camouflaged the glow. She wouldn’t have seen it again. Not on her own, not without these dogs. But here it was. Just a few more feet.

That was all she had to walk, all she had to find enough power for. A few more feet.

They were, without doubt, the most difficult, exhausting few feet that Meredith had ever walked. But she made it to the porch, up the few steps and to the door.

The dogs were on either side of her now, pressing their bodies against her legs, sharing their strength. Keeping her standing. She knocked on the door, but her fist barely made a sound. She tried again and then, knowing she was this close to collapse, turned the doorknob and pushed open the door.

She called out a feeble “Hello?” but received no response. The room—the blessedly warm room—was empty. The dogs left her side to run in, barked at her to follow and so...well, she did. Unless the owner of this house was heartless, he or she would most certainly understand. And if they didn’t? Well, that was the last worry on Meredith’s mind.

Closing the door behind her, she tried for another “Hello” before half stumbling her way across the room. A low-burning, welcoming fire glowed brightly from the fireplace, and a long, inviting couch was right there along the wall. She went to the sofa, knowing she should take off her coat and outer layers of clothing, but...she couldn’t.

As in, she was unable to.

All she could do was sit down, and then stretch out, on the thick, comfortable cushions and stare at the fire. Oddly, she did not feel awkward at being in a stranger’s home without permission. She wasn’t worried if the owner would understand or be angry when he or she walked in. All she felt, through and through, was a deep, abiding sense of relief.

Just relief. But it was profound.

Meredith fought to stay awake so that when the mystery owner appeared, she could try to explain her presence. Probably, she should sit up. Thought again that she should take off her coat, the shirts wrapped around her head, the socks on her hands. But doing so seemed impossible. Doing so would require considerably more energy than she currently had available.

So she closed her eyes, breathed in the deliciously warm air, and thanked the good Lord for getting her this far. She was alive. Freezing, exhausted, shivering and numb...but alive.

A miracle had occurred. She was not going to die tonight.

Vaguely, she felt the pressure of the dogs—her angels—as they jumped onto the sofa and snuggled their bodies around her, again offering what protection, what help they could. And that was enough to put an end to her feeble resistance. She stopped trying to find energy where there was none, stopped thinking altogether and allowed her body to do what it demanded.

She slept.

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