Wesley traced his finger over the map. Chase suggested hand signals for when Wesley needed to tell him which way to turn. Hand signals learned and memorized, Wesley slapped his helmet over his head and climbed on the snowmobile behind Chase. Two miles and several turns later, Chase stopped the snowmobile in a small clearing and willed his panic to stand down. “Anything look familiar?”
“Those are the tracks we made earlier.” Wesley pointed toward the tree line.
Chase squinted at the trail, unsure if those were the tracks they’d made on the wrong trail. He leaned forward, followed the direction Wesley pointed and noticed the second set of tracks. “You’re good at this.”
“I’ve had years of practice.” Wesley’s tone sounded wisdom-aged as if he’d lived eight decades, not one.
Chase laughed and checked his phone for service. Barely half a bar lit the top corner of his phone screen. Every mile should take them closer to a cell tower and service. Then he’d open his map app and let the satellites guide them home.
Wesley set his hand on Chase’s arm, drawing his attention away from his phone. He whispered, “Do you hear that?”
“The bears are sleeping,” Chase murmured, and glanced around the clearing. “Are they snoring?”
Wesley giggled and slid off the snowmobile. “Not bears. It sounds like crying.”
Chase followed Wesley across the clearing toward several fallen tree stumps and branches. A small gray fur ball darted from beneath a thick branch. Chase stepped forward and stopped. Another silver-streaked fur ball raced in the same direction. “Is that...”
“Kittens,” Wesley shouted, and slapped his gloves over his mouth. His eyes round, he pulled his hands away and lowered his voice. “We have to rescue them. They’ll freeze out here.”
Chase checked the time on his phone and the angle of the sun. He’d promised Nichole they’d be back long before sunset. “But they’re most likely wild cats and know how to survive out here.”
“We can’t leave them, Chase.” Wesley watched him, worry and fear on his face. “We can’t. They’re only babies. Babies should never be left behind. Ever.”
Neither should pregnant moms or young sons. Chase swallowed around the lump in his throat. He couldn’t refuse Wesley. Even Chase wouldn’t sleep well knowing they hadn’t tried to help the kittens. He checked the time again. “Okay. We have fifteen minutes to try and get those kittens. Then we need to leave.”
“We can do this.” Wesley set his hands on his hips and pointed at a fallen tree, the kitten’s current hiding place. “How should we do this?”
“We need a plan.” Chase glanced around the clearing. “And something to trap them in.”
The first trap consisting of a thin branch and pinecones failed. Clumps of snow dropped onto their heads, covering them in snowflakes and laughter. The kittens skittered away.
Wesley guided Chase on the second trap made of four snow walls and a tree branch roof. Chase managed to swipe his gloves across the silver-and-black kitten’s back. Then the trap fell apart and the kittens escaped again. And the fifteen minutes quickly shifted into thirty. Chase rubbed his hands together. The temperature dropped along with the sun. The kittens would be hard-pressed to survive the night. They had to succeed.
Together, Chase and Wesley used the best parts of their earlier traps and constructed a new one. Wesley captured the gray kitten. Chase bent down and scooped up the silver-and-black sibling.
“It worked.” Wesley snuggled the kitten closer, then sneezed. “I’m not allergic. Just cold.”
Chase unzipped his jacket and motioned toward Wesley. “The kittens will be warm inside my coat.”
“Are you sure?” Wesley peeled the kitten’s claws out of his jacket sleeve.
No. But they had few options. Wesley needed his hands free to hang on to Chase and use his hand signals to guide Chase in the right direction. A kitten would distract the boy. “I’m the best they’ve got.”
Wesley settled his kitten inside Chase’s jacket. “What about their mom?”
Chase had already considered the kitten’s mother and whether she had more in her litter. He checked the time on his phone and noted the last of the setting sun. “We can do a ten-minute search. Then we leave. Remember she’s wild too and has been surviving out here longer than us.”
“Okay. We should start at the log where we first found them.”
Chase unwrapped his scarf and wound it around Wesley’s neck. “Lead the way.”
At the twelve-minute mark, Chase called a halt to the search. He tugged off his gloves and tied them to a high branch. “We have to leave, or your mother is going to be really mad.”
Wesley kicked at the snow and frowned into Chase’s scarf. “Fine.”
“Look, my gloves will be here as a marker.” Chase pointed at the tree branch. “We can come back tomorrow during the day and search for their mom.”
Wesley straightened and grinned. “Promise?”
“Promise.” What was it about the Moore family that caused Chase to keep making promises?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE SOUND OF a snowmobile drew Nichole outside. She rushed onto the balcony, wrapped Wesley in a tight hug. She pulled away, touched his cold checks, examined his face, ran her hands over his arms. No visible injuries. The frantic worry hammering inside her chest dulled to a steady pounding. Wesley was safe. Her son was fine. But there was another someone and that worry persisted. Her hands still shook. One more hug for Wesley then she released him. “Get inside and warm up.”
“But...” Wesley started.
Nichole pointed inside. “Not now.”
Wesley frowned, ran inside and shouted for Ben, Brooke and Dan. Nichole never waited to find out what Wesley wanted to tell them. She raced down the stairs and sprinted toward the garage. Anger and fear knotted inside her, pushing her faster. She wanted to yell at Chase for
