Bridget wiped the swirling snow from her eyes, then shined the light over a wide swath of white drifts. “He has to be by the cabin. We’re not far. If I remember right, Pixie Rock is past the next post.”
He took the flashlight from her and shined it into the distance, catching the tip of a wooden pillar.
“Cole, it’s Uncle Scooter and Birdie! Can you hear me? Tell us where you are!” he called at the top of his lungs as they headed toward the cabin.
“I’m here! I’m here! I’m cold, and I’m scared!” the boy cried.
“We’re coming! Don’t move! Stay right where you are!” he shouted, working to keep the shake of frantic relief out of his voice while his heart shattered into a million pieces. He was damned grateful to hear Cole’s voice but terrified he’d be hurt or suffering from frostbite.
He shared a look with Bridget, and his fears were reflected in her worried gaze.
“He’s in one piece. He’ll be okay,” he said, more to himself than to her, but he had to say the words.
Then, as if out of thin air, the flashlight’s beam hit the side of a cabin. He waved it around carefully, taking in the structure, and paying special attention to a pair of windows framing a stone chimney.
They’d made it! Now, with the minutes ticking away and the temperature dropping, they had to find the boy.
“Cole!” he bellowed.
“I’m here, Uncle Scooter!”
“The porch. He’s on the porch,” Bridget exclaimed, taking off as they rounded the curve and arrived at the front of the cabin.
Cole sat on the bottom step—a tiny ball in the darkness, his arms clutching his knees.
Bridget sank to the ground and hugged the child. “We’re so glad we found you!”
He joined her and gathered the two of them into his strong embrace. “Are you okay, buddy? Did you get hurt?”
“My mommies are going to be so mad,” the boy whimpered, his little body shaking.
“No, you’re not in any trouble. I’m sure they’ll be so happy that you’re okay,” Bridget replied, stroking Cole’s cheek.
The child’s body swayed as the boy went limp. “I’m really cold and so, so sleepy.”
Shit! That wasn’t good!
Bridget met his eye, and a fresh surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins.
They couldn’t let him fall asleep. Not until he’d warmed up, and they could assess his condition.
There was no time to get him back to the mountain house. They needed shelter now. He glanced around, shining the beam of light across the front of the cabin, and spied half a dozen logs piled next to the front door.
“We need to get him inside and start a fire,” he said, coming to his feet.
“I don’t think the cabins are open in the winter,” she replied, glancing at the imposing door.
He took off his coat and wrapped it around Cole, then tried the doorknob. Bridget was right. The damn thing wouldn’t budge.
He stepped back and stared at the barrier that separated them from shelter.
It was time to see what two hours a day in the gym pumping iron could do.
He reared back, and with all the force he could muster, he charged the door with his shoulder. His body pounded into the hard wood, the force reverberating through his flesh and bones. But he felt no pain as the creak of metal buckling and the scrape of wood on wood cut through the gusts of icy wind. The hinges whined in protest as the door gave way; no match for his strength and determination. Losing no time, he scooped up as much wood as he could carry.
“Come on. We need to get him out of the cold,” he said, ushering them inside.
Bridget lifted Cole into her arms and hurried inside.
He headed straight for the stone hearth, arranged a trio of logs in the fireplace, and then shined the beam around the space. Sparsely furnished, the simple one-room cabin would be their refuge until they could make sure Cole was okay. He ran his hand along the mantle, then thanked the Pixie Rock fairies when a box of matches slid into his palm.
Bridget grabbed a blanket slung over a chair and wrapped it around the boy as the two sat on the floor a few feet away.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Do you have anything in your pockets that we can use as kindling?”
Bridget cradled Cole in her arms. “No, I don’t think so.”
He set the matches down and pulled his wallet from his back pocket.