“It’s strange that you and I didn’t see whoever it was,” she said.
“Maybe they’re trying to remain anonymous.”
“They must not have found Jackson,” she said. “Or we would have heard.” She inched a little closer to the fire and shoved her hands deeper into her pockets. “So maybe what we saw was two completely differently people. Other searchers, or even tourists who don’t know about the missing boy. I’m really worried about him. How is he going to survive a second night in this weather, alone? He might have had a few snacks with him, but they would be gone by now.”
“Is he the type to panic or give up easily?” Scott asked.
“He’s smart and he’s quiet. In some ways he’s very mature for his age. He’s traveled all over the world and is pretty comfortable around all kinds of people. But he’s also been very sheltered. Spoiled, even. He’s a good kid, but I wouldn’t say he’s faced much physical hardship.”
“Has he done much backcountry skiing? Do you know?”
She shook her head. “I have no idea.”
“Why did you leave the job with the Endicotts?” he asked.
“Because Jackson didn’t need me. When he turned six he started school full-time.”
“What do you do in the summers now?” he asked.
“Different things. Wait tables. Work retail. What about you?”
“I work for the resort,” he said. “Maintenance staff. Hunter still gets to come to work with me every day.”
“How old is Hunter?” The dog was looking at each of them in turn, having recognized his name.
“He’s four. He’s been training as an avy dog since he was two months old.”
“Same as Shelby.”
Shelby gave a single thump of her tail, but didn’t raise her head. “So she’s about eighteen months old now?” he asked.
“Sixteen. And she’s doing great.” She dared him to say otherwise.
“What made you want to train an avalanche dog?” He scooped snow into the mug and set it beside the fire to melt.
She could have made up a story about seeing other patrollers work with their dogs, or about coming across the perfect dog to train for the work. Maybe it was the darkness, or the lingering effects of the food and the schnapps, or the novelty of being stranded together, but she decided to opt for the truth. “My brother, Ben, was a ski patroller. He was six years older than me and was training an avy dog, Cache, when he was killed in an avalanche. He was training Cache that day, and was being careful. But a slab of snow let loose and caught him. Friends dug him out, but by the time they found him, it was too late.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s really tough.”
She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I tried to take over where he left off, training Cache, but I was only seventeen, and I just didn’t have the experience, or the time, to do a good job. But I kept the idea in the back of my head. I worked ski patrolfor five years before an opening came up in the avalanche dog program at Kingdom Mountain. I applied and was accepted.”
“Where did you get Shelby?”
“From a breeder in Steamboat Springs. She comes from a long line of avalanche and search-and-rescue dogs.” She reached out to stroke the dog. “My parents helped me buy her. I could never have swung the cost on my own. The resort gave me some money for training, and I scrounged up the rest. But it was worth it. She’s been great. Ben would have loved her, too.”
“I’m sorry about your brother,” he said. “What happened to his dog?”
“Oh, he’s living the good life with my parents. He’s a pampered senior now. What about you—how did you get into avalanche dogs?”
“Similar story to yours,” he said. “My best friend was killed in an avalanche. It took two days to find his body. When I learned that a dog could probably have found him much faster, I wanted to do that for other people—to not make them wait to know what really happened to their loved one. And you always hope that you’ll be able to save someone.”
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Yeah.” He looked up, snow sifting down onto his cheeks. “He would have loved being out here like this. He would rather be outside in bad weather than cooped up inside almost any time. I try to take comfort in the fact that he died doing something he loved, but I’d rather he was still around.”
“How old was he when he died?” she asked.
“He was twenty-six. If he had lived he’d be thirty-three now. A year younger than me.”
