Jaycee Bullard - Framed For Christmas

The man must have sensed her unease, because he looped a mittened hand around the edge of the dog’s collar and held him fast. “Lou and I seem to be forgetting our manners. The name’s Gideon Marshall, ma’am.” He raised his voice to be heard over the gusting wind.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Marshall. I’m Dani Jones. The kids and I are headed to the Dagger Lake reservation as part of a mission outreach from our local church.” She looked up at the dark sky through the thick flakes that seemed to be falling faster by the minute. “But it doesn’t look like we’re going to make it tonight.”

“My cabin is just across the ridge. You’re welcome to camp out on my floor until you can arrange for a tow.”

Then he smiled, and, despite his huge stature, there was something warm in his crinkling brown eyes that quelled her anxiety.

Lou strained against his master’s hold, nudging his large wet nose closer to the van’s open door. A stinging gust of wind flicked the end of her scarf across her face and issued a sharp reminder of the dwindling number of options available to her at the moment. She needed to make a decision, and fast.

She stuck her head into the van to address her charges.

“Hey, gang. Mr. Marshall has invited us to crash at his place until we can call for help. Bundle up, grab your gear and get ready to go.”

The winds were picking up speed as they climbed up the embankment and began the slow trek to the cabin. Packed-down footholds merged into three-foot-high drifts where the wind had pushed the snow willy-nilly along the path. Dani tried not to overthink her decision to trust the grizzled backwoodsman, but her imagination was running wild, picturing their destination as a run-down shack filled with animal skins and mounted antlers. Or worse.

Gideon strode ahead, undeterred by the blowing and drifting snow. Behind him came a line of stragglers slipping and sliding as they struggled to match his pace. Dani slowed so that she could walk with Lucy, at twelve and a half the youngest of the group. The girl’s face was crumpled, and she was on the verge of tears.

“What’s going to happen if we don’t show up for the opening ceremony at the reservation?” Her voice trembled. “Will someone call our parents and tell them we’re missing? What if we get stuck here and don’t make it home for Christmas?”

Dani squeezed the young girl’s hand through her glove. “No worries, Luce. By tomorrow night, this will all seem like a great adventure.”

Or a bad memory. She shivered as a trickle of snow melted into the liner of her thin leather boots. Clearly, she should have chosen more appropriate footwear when packing for this trip, but she hadn’t expected to be trekking through a foot of hard-packed snow.

She was panting from exertion by the time they reached the top of the ridge where Gideon stood waiting, his arm stretched out, pointing toward a thick stand of pines. From a distance, the neat little cabin nestled in the center of the grove of trees looked like a scene painted by Thomas Kincaid. To the left of the main building was a barn with a red roof, and set back in the trees, a small garage. Billows of smoke poured out of the cabin’s twin chimneys, offering the promise of a warm fire and protection from the storm.

Gideon caught her surprised look and smiled.

“I built the place two years ago when I retired. From here it looks small, but inside there’s a large open space where you and the kids can bunk for the night.”

“You’re retired?” Josh sidled up beside them and joined the conversation. “I thought you had to be at least sixty before you did that.”

“Most people are,” Gideon said. “Not me.”

Josh nodded, accepting the answer, but Dani sneaked a surreptitious glance at their host. He walked with the easy gait of someone accustomed to a lot of exercise. She’d guess his age to be late thirties, at the oldest, though it was difficult to tell through his insulating gear.

And then there was the beard. Bristly, untrimmed and peppered with flecks of gray, it looked like a throwback to a different age. But none of the kids seemed bothered by the fact that their host was twice as big as any of them, and three times hairier. They were smiling as they made their way down the ridge, joking about their rescue from the storm. But try as she might, Dani couldn’t help feeling just a little bit nervous about entrusting their lives to a stranger, especially one as large and imposing as Gideon Marshall.

Gideon stopped at the bottom of the steep slope and waited for the group to catch up. He hadn’t expected the journey to be so slow and arduous. It didn’t help that most of the kids were wearing thin canvas sneakers that offered little traction in the deep snow. What had they been thinking when they packed for their trip? It was, after all, mid-December, and a sudden change in the weather was not uncommon for this time of year.

It was hard to blame the kids when their chaperone appeared to be equally unprepared. In her fancy boots and white wool coat, Dani Jones looked like she was heading to a tea party, not a Sioux reservation. Still, he had to give her credit for one thing—he had yet to hear her complain. Lots of people in her position would be grousing about the treacherous conditions, but apparently, she was made of sterner stuff. The expression on her face was kind and sympathetic as she trudged along, offering encouragement to the kids.

Although he had moderated his pace to accommodate the group, Lou showed no such restraint. The high-spirited shepherd leaped from one snowbank to another like a nimble jackrabbit on the chase. At first, Gideon assumed that his dog was just excited to have company along for his walk. But then he began to notice that Lou kept circling back toward the road, his ears perked up on high alert.

The last time he had seen Lou this agitated was during a drug bust on the outskirts of Miami. That had been three years ago, but Gideon could still picture the reactions of the three criminals when the shepherd sniffed out the cache of contraband hidden under the tiles of their kitchen floor.

He hated to say it, but given the way Lou was acting, there was good reason to suspect that there were drugs hidden somewhere in the van. He shot an assessing glance at each of the kids. Three boys and four girls. He wasn’t great at estimating ages, but he’d say they all looked to be in their early teens. Sixth or seventh graders, he’d hazard a guess, wholesome and rambunctious with their colorful parkas and expedition backpacks.

Which left Dani Jones. The chaperone. At first glance, she appeared to be a nice enough woman. Pretty, too, with her dark curly hair and bright flashing eyes. But if there was one thing he had learned in his fifteen years on the job at the DEA, it was that appearances could be deceiving. And she sure had acted nervous when Lou tried to put his front paws inside the van. Of course, there was always the chance she was just afraid of dogs, but his gut told him it was more than that. He had seen panic in her eyes when she’d stepped down from the driver’s seat, a look of dread that seemed to mask something deeper and more profound. He hoped he wouldn’t come to regret inviting the group to his home. Then again, it wasn’t as if he had much choice in the matter. He wasn’t about to leave them at the bottom of the ravine in the middle of a raging snowstorm.

It was going to be strange to have company after two years of living alone. But being hospitable didn’t mean turning a blind eye to signs that something was amiss. Gideon watched as his dog ran in wide circles around the kids, his excitement evident in his every move. Even though Lou couldn’t use words to communicate, he knew how to make his thoughts known in other ways. There was a definite set to the shepherd’s eyes, a tension in his jaw. And when he started pawing at the ground, as he had been doing when they were back at the van, it was a signal that he was on aggressive alert.