Elizabeth August - The Bride's Second Thought

Rick Mack’s expression became apologetic. “The roads are still in bad shape. Even four-wheel-drive vehicles are having a difficult time of it. We’re advising people to stay put for a day or so. Besides, Jasper’s helping with the search. He told me to tell you it’d be a while, tomorrow at the earliest, before he could get here.”

Hating the idea of imposing on Peter Whitley for even another minute, Ellen asked, “Is there any way I could get to a hotel or motel?”

The policeman glanced toward Peter, a frown beginning to form and suspicion entering his eyes.

“Mr. Whitley has been a perfect gentleman. And I greatly appreciate him giving me shelter for the night.” Ellen spoke up quickly, not wanting to get Peter into any trouble. “It’s just that I hate imposing on him further.”

The policeman’s expression relaxed. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to. According to the latest reports, all of the local hotels and motels are fully booked.” Obviously eager to resume the search, he again extended his hand to Peter. “Good luck. Even if any of the people in the plane survived the crash, if we don’t find them soon, they’ll freeze to death.”

“Bane and I will start looking immediately,” Peter promised accepting the parting handshake.

The officer nodded his thanks and headed back to his vehicle.

“I’ll drop you off at the cabin,” Peter told Ellen as he collected the shovels and strapped them to the snowmobile.

She knew he would think she was a hindrance but she refused to sit idly. “I’m coming with you. I know a little first aid.”

He started to insist that she remain at the cabin. He didn’t need her distracting him. But he knew if he did find survivors, he could use help. Besides, he didn’t have time to argue, and she looked determined. If he left her behind, she might set out on her own. “Fine. We’ll stop by the cabin and pick up some blankets and a medical kit.”

Turning to Bane, he pointed in the direction of the area he’d been asked to cover and said, “Search.”

Immediately the wolf took off at a loping run.

“Jack taught him that the command search means to look for people in need of help. If he finds them, he’ll come back and lead us to them. His nose is worth a dozen pairs of eyes,” Peter explained as they mounted the snowmobile. Then he started the engine, cutting off any further conversation.

A short while later, they’d gotten rid of the shovels, picked up the blankets and first aid kit and were making their way through the woods. The rough terrain and abundance of trees made the going slow. Periodically Peter stopped the snowmobile, turned off the motor, listened, called out, then listened again. When they received no response, they continued.

The winter wind was bitter, and even Ellen’s heavy clothing was not a total protection against it. Her legs felt icy and her hands were cold beneath warm covering. But she thought of the two small children, and fear for them made her forget her own discomfort.

Suddenly Bane appeared, coming at a run from the north. He yapped, saw that he had Peter’s attention, then turned to retrace his steps.

“Keep your fingers crossed he’s found them,” Peter yelled to her as he followed the wolf. “They can’t last much longer in this cold.”

“I’d cross my toes as well if I could,” she yelled back.

What seemed like forever, but was only a few minutes later, they entered a clearing. At the far end was a small plane, its wings sheared off and the body wedged between the trees.

“Looks like the major portion of the body’s intact,” Peter noted as they sped across the small clearing. “That’s a hopeful sign.”

Reaching the plane, he shut off the snowmobile and began talking into the walkie-talkie. Ellen could see how the helicopter, if it had passed over this area, could have missed spotting the wreckage. The skid path across the clearing looked like a shallow ravine. Only a very small portion of the plane’s tail would have been visible from the air and even that might be hidden by some of the higher branches, depending on the angle at which the chopper would have flown over.

Bane howled, and from inside, Ellen heard the cry of a child. Grabbing the blankets, she hurried to what was left of the cabin while Peter gave their location to the other rescuers. Opening the door, she climbed inside. The two children were still strapped into their seats by special safety harnesses. The windows had miraculously stayed intact. Still the interior of the plane was frigid and the smallest child looked blue around the lips and was slouching lifelessly.

The mother was limp against the back of her seat. A trail of blood from her head had seeped into the fabric of her heavy sheepskin coat. The father was draped over the control panel.

The oldest child looked up at her. “Help?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes, help,” she replied, fighting back the threat of tears.

Taking only enough time to cover him securely with a blanket, she turned her attention to the second child. Pressing her cheek against the little girl’s, she held her breath hoping to feel some sign of life. She was not certain if it was wishful thinking or real, but she thought she detected a tiny whimper. Lifting her head away, she looked at the small, soft-featured face. Nothing. Praying they were not too late, she freed the baby, wrapped the child in a second blanket, then opening her coat, held the little girl against herself, hoping to share her own body warmth.

Peter had entered the plane and was checking the mother. “She’s still alive,” he said, wrapping another blanket around the woman. He looked up at Ellen. “How’s the little one?”

She was again pressing her face against the child’s cheeks trying to detect any signs of life. A second tiny whimper reached her ears. “She’s alive,” she said around the lump in her throat. “But my guess is just barely.”

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