One Bride for Five Mountain Men

Chad skis back and forth in front of me, cutting across my path like a jerk until I finally decide not to play and head over to a different trail. This is much better, to be on my own. I like being on my own, right up until the part where I fall down a ravine and sprain my ankle and splat like a cartoon character over a boulder.

But at least I did that on my own.

Suddenly I realize I’m not dreaming anymore. That all just really happened. I was skiing, and I was angry, and then I was falling down a hill. I must’ve blacked out and when I came back, there was a blizzard. It was so loud…

In fact, I feel like I can still hear it.

As I tune in, I realize I can hear a lot of things: the crackling fire, the wind outside, my own breath, and something else…

Someone else.

Slowly I convince my eyeballs to open again, just an eighth of an inch at a time. Just enough to figure out where I am. It hurts to see. Do I have a fever or something? I want to reach up and feel my head, maybe look for the source of this pounding sensation. But my arms don’t feel like they’re going to be of any help.

Still, the longer I try, the more I can see. It’s a room, rustic and simple. Over the stove next to me, there’s a clothesline with a parka and some other things, maybe. A small window shows only white light from outside. Though the walls are made of logs, the lighting is small LED bulbs. So it’s not as rustic as it first appears. It’s definitely twenty-first century.

With every breath, I get a tiny bit stronger. Tentatively I jiggle my shoulders, surprised to find my bare skin rubbing against the blanket beneath me. Alarmed, I move the rest my body just a little bit to test the friction and confirm what I already feared: I’m as good as naked under this blanket.

Where are my clothes?

More importantly: who took them?

I want to panic, but I’m not sure I have the energy. As my breathing becomes more rapid, the room gets darker. I’m going to pass out again if I’m not careful.

Squinting, I force my brain to catalog what I’m seeing. Stove, stone wall, log wall, clothes, window, giant lump, chair, door…

Giant lump?

It’s blurry, but as I look at it, it looks back at me. It leans forward.

It makes a sound.

I’m certain those are words.

“You’ll feel better if you take a few deep breaths,” the voice says. “I had to sedate you so I could wrap your ankle…”

I’m naked? And he sedated me??

Oh, of course I found the only serial killer in the Sierra Nevada mountain range, I think bitterly. Of course I did. That’s just the beauty of my internal decision-making process.

My heart begins to race I try to sit up, but it’s impossible. I am made of clay.

“Just relax, would you? Listen to what I’m telling you!”

Some obedient part of me follows his instructions, even though I don’t want to. I settle back against the blanket, my brain nearly boiling over with confusion.

“I’ll get you some water,” the voice says.

He stands up, and he’s huge. Way over six feet, broad as a door. He shuffles toward one side of the room and returns, kneeling next to me. When he’s close, I can see his face in better focus. Dark hair, shot through with silver. Intense, glittering, dark silver eyes. A full and unruly beard covering the whole bottom half of his face.

A wild man. A mountain man.

“Drink this,” he commands me in a growl as I feel something prying against my lower lip.

“Don’t be stupid. It’s just water,” he mutters. “Drink it. It’ll help.”

What choice do I have? After a few seconds, my lips remember how to close around the straw and I suck tentatively, grateful to find that it’s truly just water as far as I can tell. As soon as I start to drink, I am ridiculously thirsty. The cool water courses over my raw throat, dripping through the middle of my body and landing in my stomach. I can feel the sensation seeping outward from there, rejuvenating my tired cells.

He stays crouched by my side, staring at my face. I close my eyes again, waiting for my brain to sort this information out. Should I be afraid? Should I scream? I don’t know what I actually have the energy to do, besides trust him. At least for now.