Love After Snowfall by Suzanne D. Williams

 
     
     
     
    SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS
    Feel-Good Romance
     

    © 2013 LOVE AFTER SNOWFALL by Suzanne D. Williams
     
    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher.
     
    This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
     
    Scenes in this story may contain graphic and/or sexual situations not suitable for younger readers, but are framed by Christian morals and solutions.
     

    CHAPTER 1
     
    The cathedral-like spires of spruce, pine, and hemlock stood tribute to the season’s first snowfall. Shuffling her feet, the girl glanced back at her snowmobile parked on the trail and her dog waiting patiently at its side.
    “No roamin’ around, Timmy,” she said to the dog. “I’ll be back.”
    Timmy’s tail wagged, shooting a spray of snow upward with the motion. She returned her gaze forward.
    She wound her way between the frosted trees over uneven ground toward the opening she’d spotted from the top of the pass. Half an hour moved by before she reached it, and then huffing and puffing, she halted to survey the landscape.
    Alaska stretched out before her in its glorious beauty, the natural rise and fall of the mountains pressed against a bleached winter sky.
    She smiled. She was privileged to be here, to see the last frontier like this. She had Nathan to thank for that because he’d brought her here, shown her how to be self-sufficient. The thought of Nathan made her heart beat painful. She missed him so much.
    S tuffing her thoughts back in place, she concentrated on the task at hand. That bull moose had been headed this way, should be here any minute, in fact. She readied her rifle, running one hand down the smooth, oiled barrel, and hooked her finger over the trigger.
    The snap and pop of the low brush confirmed her suspicions. Scanning the space, she sighted one eye along the barrel and spotted the telltale antlers bobbing up and down with the beast’s ponderous steps. One shot, that’s all it’d take, and she could make that easy, had done so many times. The moose strolled along, and she tightened her grip, ready, alert.
    Her shot rang out between the trees, echoing off the side of the distant mountains, alongside the moose’s squeal. Ecstatic, she tucked the rifle beneath her arm and surged forward. Now came the tedious part, hours of work carving up the carcass, with several trips to retrieve it all. It’d be worth it. She could feed herself the entire winter off this one animal.
    She pressed ahead, following the crash of the moose into the distance. But another sound entered her ears—whimpering, thick breathing, and the gasp and grunt of something wounded. Not the moose, for the moose had moved on to die a mile or two away. Her senses awakened, she pushed toward the sound, and stopped solid at the sight, her insides curling into a ball.
    A man lay prone on the ground, his leg bent at an awkward angle, his skin as pale as the inescapable ice.
     
    ***
     
    “Who are you?” the girl asked.
    T he man looked upward into the face of an attractive girl with flaming red hair. Out of place in this pristine environment. “Ezekiel Knapp, and I’ll ask the same,” he said through gritted teeth, pain rippling across him.
    “Clementine Button.”
    “Clementine?”
    She narrowed her gaze. “My grandmother’s name. I hardly think this is the time to question me on it.”
    He fell silent. She was angry. But she’d shot him, not the other way around. He raised one palm in surrender just the same.
    “You had to go and complicate my life,” she said.
    He blinked up at her. Was she serious? “Complicate your life? You shot me!”
    She gave a snort. “Shouldn’t have been behind the moose.”
    “Shouldn’t have been …” His