With a muttered curse at the wounded look she gave him before she turned her head and closed her eyes, Luke also turned away and went to work on the sled. It took him about ten minutes to dig it out, and another ten minutes to straighten a bent ski and make it snow worthy again. He’d just finished tying their gear to the back when Tigger came trotting over, the GPS in her mouth. Luke felt in his pocket, realizing it must have fallen out during the avalanche.

“Good girl, Tig!” he said, roughing up the hair on her head. “I take back every bad thing I’ve thought about you. You and your buddy Max are a hell of a lot smarter than many people I know.” He kissed the top of her head. “And I’m going to buy you a whole wardrobe of pretty sweaters.”

Apparently not wanting to be outdone, Max came trotting over dragging the other snowshoe. Luke sat back on his heels. The dogs had actually found everything he needed? He shook his head in disbelief, wondering how they seemed to know how desperate the situation was.

“Okay, you pooches. You’ve definitely earned your soup—as well as a couple of hero medals, which I am personally going to see that you get.”

They suddenly took off again in search of more treasure. Luke turned to show Camry what they’d found, but she was asleep. Lifting the edge of the sleeping bag, he actually winced when he saw how swollen her ankle was.

“Camry, honey,” he said softly, gentling shaking her shoulder. “I need you to be awake while I immobilize your foot, so I know if I’m doing anything wrong.”

Her eyes dark with drugged confusion and pain, she nodded.

Luke moved back down her leg. But just as he lifted the sleeping bag again, the dogs came bounding back, each carrying something. Only instead of bringing their newest finds to him, they brought them to Camry.

Max dropped the large pointed hat on her chest, and Tigger dropped the crumpled card. Then both dogs lay down, Max resting his chin on her belly and Tigger curling up beside her shoulder.

Luke sighed. Was he ever going to get rid of Roger AuClair? “Here’s an idea,” he said, folding the sleeping bag back to expose her ankle. “You can finish reading Roger’s letter to me while I play doctor on you.” He shot her a smile. “And why don’t you put on his hat, and try to sound just like him.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and her chin quivered. “D-don’t humor me, Luke.”

“No! I’m not humoring you, I’m trying to distract you. And myself. Here,” he said, uncrumpling the card and handing it to her. “Okay, let’s hear what other sage advice good old Roger has for me.” He arched an eyebrow. “Maybe at the end of the note, he tells us where he stashed the snowcat.”

Probably as much from her own curiosity as wishing to humor him, Camry hesitantly started reading out loud from where she’d left off yesterday morning. Using the laces he’d stolen from her other boot, and a pair of pants he’d taken from their gear, Luke carefully started to wrap her ankle.

He paused when she stopped reading with a hiss of pain. “Sorry. I’m trying to be gentle. Go on, keep reading.”

“But Roger said there’s a chance I might never walk properly again,” she whispered, her chin quivering again. “Luke, you have to do what he says, and take me straight to my aunt Libby. She’s really a highly skilled trauma surgeon, but she also has a gift for healing people by only touching them.”

“You won’t just be walking properly, you’ll be running a marathon by this summer,” he said, giving her arm a squeeze. “Keep going. You’ve reached the part where I stopped reading.”

Her eyes searched his, looking for . . . hell, for some sign he believed her, Luke figured. He went back to work on her foot, wrapping several layers of the heavy pant material around her leg, from her knee to down past her heel. He then gently tied it in place, careful not to make it too tight around the swelling.

He heard her take a shuddering breath; then she started reading again.

I warned you this was going to seem impossible, Renoir. But making a miracle is actually the easy part, whereas living with the realization that you really are in control of your own destiny is what’s truly daunting.

So I wish you the best of luck, young man—not only on your immediate journey, but on your life’s journey as well. Now don’t you go feeling bad that I left before you got to thank me for all I’ve done for you; we’ll be meeting again one day, so you’ll get your chance. Godspeed, Renoir. Your faithful servant, Roger de Keage.

Luke snorted. “If we meet again, I’ll likely wring his neck.”

“My God,” she whispered. “He’s the father of the clan MacKeage.”

“The father of practical jokes, you mean,” he muttered.

“Um . . . there’s a P.S.”

Luke snorted again. “The old bastard does love to pontificate.”

She dropped her worried gaze back to the card. “P.S.,” she read. “You’re down to six hours and forty-four minutes, Renoir, so you might want to get cracking on making that miracle.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Four hours later, Luke was worried that instead of saving Camry’s life, he very well might be killing her. For the third time in half an hour, he dropped to his knees beside the sled, utterly exhausted from the grueling pace he’d set, and peeled back the tarp. Tigger blinked up at him from inside Camry’s jacket with a mournful whine, then gently lapped her pale cheek before looking at Luke again.

“I know, Tig,” he said between ragged breaths as he took off his gloves. He reached in and touched Camry’s neck, feeling her faint pulse, which had grown steadily fainter in the last four hours. “I’m worried about her, too.

You’re doing a good job of keeping her warm,” he crooned, sliding his hand under the jacket to make sure the dog’s weight was still on the mattress, and not putting pressure on Camry’s ribs. He rubbed Tigger’s ear. “Let’s hope it’s the extra pill I gave her that’s making her sleep, and not shock.”

He wrapped his arm around Max when the dog came over and nosed Camry, also whining worriedly. “Okay, gang, we need to come up with a new game plan,” he whispered, his hand trembling as he patted Max. “Because this one isn’t working.”

Max drove his nose inside the sled beside Camry’s body, then lifted his head with Roger’s pointed hat in his mouth and dropped the hat on her face. When Luke quickly snatched it off, Max nosed Camry’s hair with a whine.

“Okay, if it will make you feel better, I’ll put it on her,” Luke said, carefully replacing the wool hat she was wearing with the heavy velvet pointed one.

Camry stirred, and two faint flags of color appeared on her cheeks.

Luke touched his finger to her pulse again and found it much stronger. “Whoa,” he whispered on an indrawn breath. “That certainly helped.” He glanced at Max, then at Tigger. “Any other suggestions? Because at this point I’m open to anything, no matter how harebrained it might sound.”

Max suddenly took off down the road, then just as suddenly veered into the woods. He stopped, looked back at Luke, and started barking.

Luke stood up, groaning when his muscles protested, and closed the tarp back over the sled. “Come on, Tig. Let’s go see where Max thinks he’s going,” he muttered, hooking the rope back over his shoulders and starting off down the road.

But he suddenly picked up his pace with renewed hope. Maybe Max smelled a wood fire or something else that meant that help was close by.

When he reached the spot where the Lab had gone into the woods, Luke found what looked like a game trail. Max was standing about twenty yards in, facing him, his tail wagging. He barked again, then took off deeper into the woods.