Snowed in with the Cowboy. Maisey Yates
as Oh, an elk crossing sign. And The trees are so tall.
They’d stopped for gas and Fritos. The Fritos had been a mere excuse for Chloe to get out of the car for a while.
Tanner seemed tense, too, and Chloe couldn’t figure out why. Maybe he wasn’t as confident about driving on these roads as he said he was.
Up ahead, there was a tunnel carved deep into the mountain, the snow building up steadily around it, making Chloe feel vaguely nauseous as they went through it.
“That’s sketchy,” she said, gripping the door handle as they drove through, the car passing underneath the earth for one second.
Two. Three.
She held her breath going through the tunnel, it was a habit of hers from childhood, and now a sort of superstition she wasn’t about to break when the snow looked like it might tumble down avalanche-style at any moment.
“It’ll be fine,” he said.
They came out the other side, and when they did, a massive bank of packed snow dropped down over the exit to the tunnel.
“Well, fuck,” he said, pressing down on the brakes and looking back behind them. More snow tumbled down off the mountain, covering the tunnel completely.
“We could have been stuck in there,” she said.
“No,” he said, he shook his head. “I would’ve dug us out.”
“Right,” she scoffed. “With your bare hands?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I have a shovel in the back.”
“Well, it doesn’t seem very safe.”
As soon as the words exited her mouth, a tree came unrooted from its spot on the hill, pushed down by the wet snow, and it tumbled down the mountain, falling down over the tunnel exit, on all the packed snow.
“Shit!”
“No kidding,” she said. “You wouldn’t have been digging that out of the way with your shovel.”
The look he gave her was searing enough to melt the snow, and she ignored the little flip in her stomach. “Let’s just hope we make it the rest of the way without incident. I bet you’re really glad that you’re not driving your Civic.”
“Pretty glad,” she said.
They drove on, yellow caution lights flashing over the top of a sign that warned of slick road conditions, and then farther ahead was a temporary road sign with orange lights on it. It proclaimed the mountain pass closed.
“Well, hell,” he said. “We’re supposed to go up the mountain pass.”
“Now what are we going to do? The path back is blocked, and apparently the way forward is closed.”
“We’d better stop,” he said, looking up ahead, squinting through the falling snow. A sign that was mostly covered in thick white powder came into view, and Chloe could see part of the lettering and filled it in for herself.
Granite Ridge.
The town was tiny, more wooded than brick, unlike Golden Valley, with small cabin-like structures. A diner, an ice cream shop, and the larger general store.
“I wonder if we should stop at the general store,” she said. If nothing else there would be warmth, food and a bathroom. So basically all the essentials should the world continue turning into an icy hell.
Tanner whipped his truck into the parking lot and the two of them got out. Chloe stepped gingerly into the snow, the powder covering her boots up to the top of her laces.
“This is just insane,” she said. “I had no idea that it was going to come down like this.”
“Because it never does,” he said. “They always say this, and then we get a few wet flakes.”
“No kidding.” The snow was pelting her face like frozen crystals being dumped from a sugar shaker, leaving little pinpricks of ice on her cheeks.
She followed Tanner into the store, banging her shoe against the side of the door frame to knock off the snow before the two of them walked inside.
The interior of the place was a patchwork of merchandise. From a swivel rack of dog-eared novels being offered up for trade or inexpensive purchase, to power bait, fishing line and live night crawlers in a cooler not far away.
There was a mounted bobcat on top of a shelf holding picnic essentials like mayonnaise, pickles and breadcrumbs for fried trout. On the rough-hewn walls were several sets of antlers from different sorts of animals, and there was a small jackal open mount sitting on the counter by the register.
There was a woman standing behind that register, dressed in a plaid shirt, her long black hair tied back away from her face.
“Hi, there,” Tanner said. “I’m just wondering if you have any idea what the situation is with the pass.”
The woman, whose name tag said Elena, regarded them with dark eyes. “The pass is not going to open,” she said. “At least, not for a couple of days. I haven’t seen snow like this in...fifteen years?”
Judging from the woman’s youthful face, she would have been maybe twelve at the time of the last snow. At least, that was Chloe’s estimate.
“Anyway, any snow tends to make the pass a complete mess. But with the rest of the roads getting all of this, and I hear the tunnel is closed back out of town... They’re going to be working overtime to clear up the main roads.”
“Well, dammit,” Tanner said. “What are we supposed to do? Because we can’t turn around and get back at this point.”
“You should go up behind the store here. There’s a lodge. But you better hurry. The rooms are going to fill up fast. If people are stuck on this side, this is going to be the best place for them to get a bed. Otherwise, they have to drive all the way to Maverick River. That’s the next place with lodging, and it’s going to be harrowing getting over there.”
“I have four-wheel-drive,” he said.
Elena chuckled. “I don’t know that four-wheel-drive is going to help you in this, cowboy.”
* * *
“GREAT. THANKS.”
The two of them walked back out of the store and Tanner cursed. “Just great.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” Chloe said, a knot of strange dread tightening in her stomach as soon as she said it.
“It’s not bad,” Tanner said. “It’s just... Let’s go. The last thing we need is to be out of a room at this point.”
“True.”
They followed Elena’s directions and drove down a winding road that pushed back off of the highway, toward a large building with a sign over the top proclaiming it to be the Granite Ridge Lodge.
“Here’s hoping there’s room,” Chloe said drily.
The parking lot was surprisingly full, especially given the barren-looking state of the town.
The lodge had a wide wooden porch with rocking chairs on it, and there was a stack of wood right next to a red door that had a cheerful wreath wishing the world a Merry Christmas.
The two of them walked in and saw a harried-looking older woman with gray-streaked dark hair. She bore a striking resemblance to Elena, with a few more years lining her face. “Can I help you?” the woman asked.
She didn’t have a name tag.
“We were just at the general store, and were told we might come see you about a room.”
“Oh, yes,” the woman said. “My daughter must have sent you. She’s sent through fifteen people in the last hour. And now I hear that the tunnel is closed.”