CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

Jake stood with her back to the fire, smiling as she watched Cheyenne attempt to curl into a tiny ball on one corner of the sofa. After three days of spring-like weather, winter had shown itself again, and they'd been buried by ten inches of fresh snow. No doubt the folks at the ski resort in Crested Butte were elated at the late-season storm, but Jake would just as soon get winter over with.

Common sense told her it was just as well. She'd overdone it the last few days, suffering each night with the pain in her leg. But the sunshine and warm temperatures couldn't keep her inside. She'd even chanced a hike to the ridge, trying to catch the sunset yesterday evening. She was disappointed when she couldn't make it all the way up, but her leg simply wouldn't support her weight as she tried to climb. She'd soaked in the tub and had taken two pain pills before the pain had eased up.

So now, she simply watched the snow falling in the late afternoon, watched as it covered up their trail into the forest. She had a stew simmering on the stove for most of the afternoon, and the smell made her stomach rumble, reminding her she'd skipped lunch. She smiled. She'd skipped lunch because she'd been taking a nap, still trying to ward off the effects of two pain pills.

Well, it would do her good to rest for a few days. She pulled back the screen on the fireplace and added another log, then limped heavily as she walked into the kitchen to get a bowl of stew. Cheyenne's ears perked up as she heard the spoon hit the bowl, but she didn't raise her head.

" I know you're listening, " Jake said. " Don't pretend you don't want any."

With that, Cheyenne jumped off the couch, tail wagging as she stood next to Jake, doing her version of a pitiful beg. Jake dutifully filled a second bowl, setting it aside to cool. " Got to wait. You're still a dog, you know." Jake laughed at the high-pitched bark Cheyenne gave her. She sat down, putting most of her weight on the table as she eased into a chair. She rubbed her thigh, noting that the numbness wasn't quite as pronounced as it had been. The doctors had assured her that the pain would subside as her muscle grew stronger, but some days, like now, she wondered if she would ever be pain free. A limp, she could live with. But the sharp, throbbing pain that remained after each hike was threatening to bring her down. She wondered how long she would be able to fight through the pain. She wondered if she would eventually give in and quit hiking, quit trying to get stronger. Or would she simply give in and rely on the pain pills to get her through? A hermit and a junkie? God, that would be rock bottom. She shook her head. A hermit, maybe.