A Matter of Trust(41)

It was dangerous. And yeah, she might be in way over her head.

But she also meant her words—if he got injured, just who would save him? He could perish up here just as easily as anyone else. Gage needed a partner, and she could do this. And he would keep her safe, to the best of his abilities.

She just had to stay in his track.

She took a long breath and tried to appreciate the view. They’d flown into the park, over a frozen Lake McDonald, then up the river toward Logan Pass. White-capped mountains littered the horizon, jagged peaks of glacial ice and razor-edge granite, tufted with deep, crystalline, heavenly powder. Unblemished, frozen, perfect.

Pine trees laden with snow jutted up through the white, a postcard beauty, but lethal if they didn’t measure their turns, cut too close, and ended upside down in a tree well.

This was why she was here—in case even legendary Gage Watson made a mistake. Besides, her brother needed her, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

She finally hazarded a glance at Gage. He had the map out, was studying the mountain. She leaned over, and without asking he traced their trail along the map, starting along the ridge. He pointed out a cliff face maybe two hundred feet down, then another, even lower. Then down the face, not quite perpendicular, but veering off to the east.

Then lower, to a cave in the cliff wall.

“We’ll camp here tonight!” he said into his mic.

She nodded.

Kacey rose along the front face of the peak, which was too steep for snow to cling to, a barren gray granite. An icing of snowy, thick frosting covered the ridgeline, a cornice of ice maybe twenty feet thick. And, as they got closer to the top, she could almost taste the fresh powder stinging her tongue and cheeks as she surfed over it.

Big mountain skiing felt a lot like flying, as if through weighty, powdery clouds, with the occasional drop into thin air, the breath of heaven in her lungs.

She never felt as though she could abandon herself, dive into the moment, like she did when she rode powder.

As if sensing her thoughts, Gage glanced over at her then, and for a second grinned. It stirred up so much memory she had to swallow, fast.

Then, as if he’d forgotten himself, the grin vanished and he returned to the view.

They reached the peak, and Kacey hovered over the ridgeline, a forty-foot expanse that dropped off two thousand feet on either side. Creamy, untouched powder deceived as it hid gullies and drop-offs, lethal spires of granite and ice floes that could break off in layers and chase them down the hill.

Rotor wash skimmed a surface layer of powder into the crisp air like fairy dust.

“I can’t actually set down on the mountain, but I can hover and you can jump out, okay?” Kacey’s voice came through her headphones.

“Got it,” Ella said.

“I’ll go first,” Gage said, but she shook her head. No way was he getting down there only for Kacey to fly away with her still in tow.

“I’ll go—you hand me the gear,” she said. Besides, the snow pack on her side of the chopper looked more stable.

His mouth tightened in a grim, acquiescing line.

She took off her headphones, put on her helmet, and opened the door. The wash of the rotors nearly sucked her out. Kacey hovered maybe five feet from the base of the hill, and it didn’t take much for Ella to step out onto a skid and jump off.

She landed in the powder, soft as pudding, and had to dig herself out. When she found her feet, Gage was leaning out of the chopper, handing her down her board, then the two packs.

She set them in the snow, then took his board.

In a moment, he landed in the snow next to her. Then he stood up and waved, and Kacey veered away. Gage checked in his radio, and Kacey confirmed.

Ella stood on top of the world. For as far as she could see, mountains pressed up against the vault of blue sky. To the west, gunmetal-gray clouds shadowed the peaks, evidence of the encroaching storm. And standing here on the cornice, the air turned whisper thin.

She examined their route—the thick spine, then the bowl below, the cliffs and bushy green pines, so far below they seemed like toys. Wind swirled around them, dusting up from the pristine snowpack. “I don’t see any tracks,” she said.

“Could be the wind sheer scraping it away. Or maybe they put down somewhere else,” Gage said. He had put on his pack and now held hers up for her to back into.

Apparently, he simply couldn’t help the gentleman part of him. She snapped on the waist belt, hitched down the shoulder straps.

He locked his boots into his board. “Good to go?”

She did the same, pulled her goggles down, and the world lost the sharp glare. “Let’s do this.”

“Just keep it easy, and stay behind me.” He bounced himself forward, added an adjustment in weight, and began to slide down the thick wide spine.