Snow Falls

Chapter One



She turned in a circle, hands held out as she sunk past her knees in the fresh snow. The snow clouds had drifted lower, but up here on the mountain, the sun was shining brightly, the blue azure sky almost an overload to her senses. Two feet of fresh snow. Amazing.

“It doesn’t get any better than this, girls.”

The two Siberian huskies, with their intelligent blue eyes as striking as the Colorado sky, burrowed in the snow around her. She laughed as Kia lunged at Sierra, only to sink to her belly as Sierra jumped safely out of the way. She paused to watch them frolic, a smile fixed to her face. When Nico had died, she’d decided not to get another. It was heartbreaking to lose him, even though he’d only been with her six years. But as much as she relished the recluse tag that still clung to her, she missed the companionship. A rescue shelter in Denver found her these two, both under a year old. They were a handful at first, so full of energy and childlike joy to be up here in the mountains. Now that their second winter together was underway, she’d adjusted to them. And they to her.

She glanced up the mountain toward Cooper’s Peak. It looked heavy with snow, but she’d not lived here long enough to know the mountain yet. After almost six years in Aspen, holed up in a remodeled mining shack outside of town, she’d felt the need to get even farther away from crowds. Especially after running into her brother, of all people, when he brought his entourage up to party and ski.

Hinsdale County—the least populated in all of Colorado—seemed perfect for her. A trip to the tiny town of Lake City confirmed it, and she purchased her property four years ago. Building the cabin proved to be a two-year effort, but she didn’t have to rely on anyone up here. Her solar panels and water well gave her all the comforts she needed.

She’d made the mistake of taking too many trips into Lake City, however. Burgers at Sloan’s Bar had become a treat, and she’d actually made friends, something she hadn’t done in ten years. Reese Daniels, the local sheriff, and her partner Morgan, head of the forest service’s regional office here. They were a few years older than she was, but had become her closest friends and were slowly dragging her out of her hermit ways. She shook her head. She even had a satellite dish and Internet now. What kind of a hermit was that?

The test came when she told them who she really was. She’d agonized over it for weeks. Would they treat her differently when they found out her family name? Would they be full of questions? After all, all of that happened ten years ago. But Morgan had drawn her out of her shell, and Reese was like the big sister she never had. So one warm sunny afternoon last summer, over grilled steaks on their back deck, she told them.

“Catherine Ryan-Barrett.”

“Who?” Reese had asked.

Morgan had nearly spit her beer out. “Are you kidding me?”

“Who?” Reese asked again.

Ryan smiled, then laughed out loud. Both dogs turned to look at her curiously, but she waved them away as she trudged after them. Morgan had remembered the tabloid stories. In fact, she’d read her book. Reese, on the other hand, simply said, “I don’t care who you are. I refuse to call you Catherine.” Ryan didn’t offer that her childhood nickname was Cat; she despised the name.

But that was that. Morgan had become her instant therapist, and Reese became the best buddy she never had before. For the first time in her life, she had friends. Not friends brought about by the Ryan-Barrett name but real friends. And they helped her heal. And she was finally writing again, something she’d been afraid to even attempt after all the scrutiny of her first novel. So yeah, that reclusive woman who lived on the mountain was becoming anything but a recluse. She was starting to open up again.

Except this winter. This winter she wanted to immerse herself in her writing. Nothing as deep as Dancing on the Moon. Written when she was ten years younger, it still had taken a lot out of her. No, the one she’d been toying with the last few months was much lighter. And as soon as Cooper’s Peak dropped its load of snow—and after this latest storm, it could be any day now—she’d be stuck on the mountain until the spring thaw. Not that she wasn’t already stuck. It was a three-hour hike through deep snow just to get to the lower part of the road. But once the avalanche ran, it would bury the forest road until spring. Last winter, she’d gone to the tropics, staying until her brother showed up. While they got along well enough, two weeks of his partying and never-ending string of women drove her back to the mountains. She stayed with Reese and Morgan until the roads were plowed high enough for her and the dogs to hike back up the mountain to her cabin. This year, though, she was writing. And being stuck up here for a few months, longer if she wanted to wait to get her Jeep out, was going to give her the time to finish the manuscript, she hoped. But after her first book, with the thrill of the Pulitzer Prize—and then the controversy afterward—she wasn’t sure she wanted to publish it. Right now, just the fact that she was writing was enough. For now.