“Beck,” I said, not sure how long I wanted to humor him for.
“Beck?” asked the trooper with a wince and a squint, like he’d suddenly thought he’d heard wrong.
“Malachi Beckett,” I said. “Do you need my license?”
“Were you part of the accident, sir?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“Then where are you headed?”
“Same as him,” I said. Then I added, “Sir,” for good measure. “Got a little resort package reserved at the Anchorage.”
I noticed that Alex shot me a glance, but then he focused his attention on the state trooper, who was giving his driver’s license back to him, as well as a quickly filled out accident report. Alex’s wallet was thin and shiny, and made of good leather.
“Well, I hate to tell you,” said the trooper. “The snow and dangerous road conditions have closed down the top of Rabbit Ears pass,” he said. “You folks are going to have to head on down the mountain, as they are restricting access.”
“But I need to get to Steamboat Springs,” Alex said, because of course he would. Rich people had to get where they needed to go and to hell with Mother Nature. “My sister’s Lottie’s there with her new baby. My mom and dad. My brother. We were going to have Christmas together.”
I wasn’t expecting that to be the reason for his urgency. He didn’t mention some high power meeting. Or a date with a big bosomed lady. No, it was because of family.
I didn’t really have a family besides a crooked uncle, and Jonah and Royce, but I got it, I really did. I felt bad for him, but I wasn’t going to tell him that, because what was going to happen to my high-dollar room and expensive spa package? Not to mention the G&T I planned to have in that hot tub.
Looked like the trooper got it too, for he smiled in sympathy, but he was still shaking his head.
“How about this?” he asked. Then he pointed with his mittened hand across the three lands to a little sign next to what looked like an opening into the woods. “That’s the 307. Used to be the cutoff to the 14 before they decided it was easier to comearound this hill. There’s a place called Whispering Pines Lodge. Maybe they have a room. If you can get one, you will be first in line when the road opens to Steamboat. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day. Otherwise, you’re going to have to head down the 40 and pretty much go all the way down to Denver.”
“That sounds good,” said Alex, not at all pleased, but being super polite.
“How are you going to get there?” asked the state trooper. “Looks like your car is underwater. Anyone else in the vehicle?”
“No.” Alexander snapped the word, as though affronted at the insinuation that he’d be standing around while his passenger was drowning.
“I’ve got your information,” said the state trooper. “But you and your friend here are going to have to skedaddle off this mountain.”
I wasn’t his friend, and I didn’t feel like skedaddling. What I had wanted was to get to Steamboat so I could put up my feet, and have a drink of alcohol in a frosted glass while I watched the snow come down. But that didn’t happen, of course, as I realized that the only way Alex was getting anywhere was if I took him.
Sure, old me could have left him by the roadside to freeze to death or whatever. But I was new me, wasn’t I.
“I’ll take you,” I said to Alex’s very broad back as the trooper walked back to his SUV.
“What?” Alex asked, turning on me like I’d been impertinent and interrupted a far more important conversation.
“I want to get to Steamboat as fast as I can, mister,” I said. “Sounds like Whispering Pines is the closest thing to a good place to wait for the road to be open. They’ll have rooms.”
I didn’t know whether they would, but I spoke confidently, like I knew all about it. The snow wasn’t stopping, and my hands were freezing.
Alex’s head had stopped bleeding, but he looked like he’d been in a fight and very much wanted all the bad things to stop happening to him. Only there wasn’t enough money in all the world to make that happen. All he had was me and my Volvo for rescue.
“We need to get out of the snow,” I said, slowly and carefully, as though he was much younger and very foolish. “I’ll drive. We can figure it out when we get there.”
“Okay.”
He tightened his mouth after he said this one word, like he’d just signed a contract with the very devil. I looked down at myself, at my black Doc Marten’s, my black jeans with the hole in the knee, and the ratty hem of my black t-shirt. The t-shirt hem draggled below the hem of the only nice thing I was wearing, a blue fleece jacket that Royce had gotten for me against my protests.
“I know I’m not much to write home about,” I said with a bit of a snarl. “But I am your rescuer here.”
For a moment, he looked me up and down, his eyes dark as they appraised me. What color were those eyes, anyway? Deep blue? Some kind of hazel?
