Jared leaned back in his recliner and sighed in satisfaction. The light from the fireplace and a single oil lamp on the table next to him cast flickering shadows on the walls of the cabin. He saw no sense in turning on any of the electric lights when he was just relaxing after a lunch of venison from a deer he'd shot and dressed himself. Though he was on the grid, he tried to use it as little as possible, preferring to rely on his solar panels and generator.
Only five years before, he'd been suffering through the lowest point of his life — married to a woman who had taken to screaming at him every time he walked in the door. He'd tried and tried, because he at least loved the woman she used to be, but it was pointless. When he found out she was having an affair, he finally threw in the towel.
He was thankful that his father had held on until after the divorce was in progress, and even more thankful that the judge had deemed the old man's inheritance wasn't subject to the divorce proceedings. The absolute fury on his ex-wife's face when she found that out was a memory that always made him smile.
The old man had lived frugally, and done well for himself in his many years of working, so Jared was able to finally realize his long abandoned dream of living out in the woods. The furniture he made as a hobby and his other woodworking projects further ensured his financial stability.
At nearly fifty, he had no intention of going through the hassle of looking for another woman. He was content to be alone with what made him happy, far away from people who tended to annoy him more often than not. With the wood shed packed to bursting and the stacks in the pole barn, he could spend most of the winter simply relaxing and making things.
It was a good time to be inside and warm, too. Nearly a foot of snow had fallen two days before, and it had snowed every day since. Outside his cabin, it was a veritable winter wonderland. He had no driveway or sidewalks to shovel. No windshield to scrape. No miserable drive to a job that sucked the life out of him on roads filled with idiots. All he had to do was watch the snow fall, the fire crackle, and read one of the old western novels from his father's vast collection.
Life was good.
There was one thing he
wanted
to do though. The CB radio had crackled to life just as he had initially sat down, announcing the delivery of the cuttings from the black walnut he'd cut up when it fell and blocked the gravel road at the edge of his property.
The large logs had already been sawed into live-edge slabs with beautiful crotch figure, and would end up in his pole barn once they had been dried and planed — ready to make furniture. The smaller cuttings from preparing the logs for the mill were now sitting on a pallet out by the road. Those would end up on his wood lathe, to emerge as bowls, platters, or whatever the wood showed him once he started cutting.
He was eager to get them in the barn and into a drying box, but not so eager as to put down the novel he was reading. It didn't take long on a short winter's day for the sun to dip below the horizon, and it was dark by the time he looked up from his book.
Jared chuckled at how he'd let a book that was nearly as old as him suck him in so completely, and rose to bundle up. It was a fair ride down to the road, but the quad could deal with the snow. He knew the trail like the back of his hand, so the darkness wasn't an issue either.
About a half an hour later, he had half the cuttings loaded onto the rack of the quad, and was preparing to return when he saw headlights down the road. That made his brow furrow, as he knew his closest neighbor was out of town, and the road dead-ended a few miles past his property at an abandoned house in the other direction. There was little reason for anyone to be out his way at all — let alone at night in so much snow.
Most likely, someone was in trouble, or up to no good. Neither was something he could ignore.
Jared mounted up and rode down the road. As he approached the car, he knew it had no business whatsoever out on a gravel country lane. The driver had obviously learned that the hard way, as the car was off the road at the bottom of a small dip. The headlights began to rapidly flash as he approached.
He left the quad idling and walked over to the car. A young woman whom he guessed was about eighteen or nineteen was behind the wheel — alone. She rolled down the window a few inches when he reached it, but there was a touch of apprehension in her expression.
She asked, "Do you think you can pull me out? I was going to a party, got lost, and then ran off the road."
"If you're out here, you're
really
lost, miss. I don't think I'm going to be able to pull you out of this dip with the quad."
"Do you have a truck or anything?"
He shook his head. "Closest one is three miles away, and they're out of town."
"Do you have a phone? I don't have any bars."
Again, he shook his head. "With the Robertsons out of town, it's eight miles to the nearest phone."
"Oh my god," she muttered, and leaned her head against the window.
There really wasn't another option, so he sighed and said, "There's no way you're getting out of here tonight, miss. I can gas up and ride over to the Smith's in the morning to call you some help, but you may as well come to my place until then. I can try the CB, but I'm not holding my breath for that to raise anyone."
"I... I don't know..."
"I've got a spare room and heat, which is better than you'll have as soon as you run out of gas. You'd freeze to death out here in that car."
She obviously came to the same conclusion he had, because she said, "I guess."
"You have a coat?" he asked.
She reached into the back seat and retrieved a coat that he was sure was what every pretty girl was wearing, but wouldn't cut the wind for shit. On top of that, she was wearing tights. She wasn't even dressed warmly enough to walk more than a few feet from her car — let alone what she had in front of her.
"Go ahead and shut off the car, put that on, and get anything you need. You don't have to worry about anybody breaking into the car, because nobody is going to be around. I'll give you my coat, because you'll be an ice cube by the time we get there otherwise. My name's Jared Oldman."
The girl looked as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, but responded, "Trisha Winter," once she shut off the car.
While she put on her coat, he took off his. His fleece-lined bibs and flannel would keep him warm enough on the ride home — if not pleasantly so.
She picked up her purse once she had her coat on, took one last, nervous look at him, and opened the door.
Jared held out his coat as he saw her shivering in the wind. "Put that on, Miss Winter."
She took it eagerly as she turned to face away from the biting wind. It reached nearly to the back of her knees and hung on her petite frame as if she was little more than a coat hanger, but it would keep her warm.
"I've never b-b-been on one of t-t-those," she chattered.
