“It’s chilly,” he agreed as he stepped into a pair of underwear, then grabbed his jeans and pulled them on. When he had a T-shirt on and a flannel shirt over that, he stopped to turn on the heater. “Just get your clothes on as fast as possible, and get it over with, so you can get the coffee started. The faster you move, the sooner we’ll have coffee.”
“Where’s my shirt?” She looked around for the flannel shirt she’d been wearing the night before, and found it stuffed halfway under the privacy curtain. Quickly she pulled it on, and only then did she emerge from beneath the sleeping bag to finish dressing. He opened three bottles of water and poured them into the percolator, then Angie quickly measured the coffee into the basket. With coffee brewing and water heating for more hot oatmeal, he carried her down the ladder, because that was faster than waiting to see if she could get a sock and boot on her right foot, and outside.
There was a heavy frost coating everything, sparkling like diamonds in the sunlight, and ice edged every hollow and dip in the ground where water remained. Her breath fogged in front of her face, even when she was inside the portable toilet, which made it imperative that she be as fast as possible. Her bare foot was freezing. But the sky was clear, not a cloud anywhere, so the temperatures would probably be moderate; the last weather report she’d listened to seemed so long ago, she couldn’t remember if the cold front coming in behind the thunderstorms was supposed to be really cold or more moderate. By himself, Dare could probably push on all the way back to Lattimore’s, but her ankle would force them to a slower pace and they might have to find shelter for the night. They’d need heat, food, water, the sleeping bag … Long accustomed to making supply lists, her brain automatically settled into preparation mode.
After they were finished and Dare had lugged her back up the ladder, for what she hoped was the last time, Angie sat on the mattress and unwrapped her ankle. The coffee hadn’t finished perking, damn it; while she waited for that was as good a time as any to see where they stood for the day.
Critically she examined her foot. The bruising was still there, beginning to morph into green and yellow shades, but most of the swelling was gone. Her toes were normal. While there was still some puffiness on the outside of her ankle, she thought she’d be able to get a sock on, at least. Whether or not she’d be able to flex her foot enough to get her boot on was the big question.
Silently she picked up the thick sock and began working it onto her foot. It went up and over her ankle without a problem. Step number one, accomplished.
Dare sat down across from her and gently lifted her foot onto his lap, then picked up the elastic bandage. “You’ll need this for extra support, but I’ll wrap it so it isn’t as thick around your ankle.” He swiftly rolled the bandage up, then began wrapping it around her foot and ankle, unrolling as he went. Once it was secured, he stretched out to snag her boot, and silently offered it to her.
Carefully she worked the boot on, wiggling it back and forth instead of moving her foot; when it wouldn’t go any further without flexing her foot, she set her jaw, moved the joint as little as necessary, and her foot slid the rest of the way into the boot.
“Success!” she said, and heaved a sigh of relief. “For part of it, anyway.” She was pretty sure she could walk, even though she’d definitely need a thick, sturdy stick for support. The next question was if she could walk well enough to try trekking down a mountain, complicated by slippery footing.
“You want to try walking now, or have some coffee?”
“Coffee,” she said fervently.
“So even walking can wait until after you’ve had coffee?”
“Damn straight, cowboy, and don’t you forget it.”
After she’d been fortified by two cups of coffee and a bowl of hot oatmeal, she felt jazzed and ready to go. “Okay, let’s see how it goes.”
He got to his feet and held his hands down to her. Without hesitation, Angie placed her hands in his and he effortlessly pulled her to her feet. She balanced on her left foot until she was fully upright, then shifted her weight until she was centered on both feet. He released her hands, and she took a step, then another. Her ankle ached, and she limped, but she could walk much better than yesterday’s hobble. She took a few more steps and felt the joint loosening even more. “It feels better than I thought it would,” she commented.
“Hiking is going to make it hurt, you know that.”
“I know. But the alternative is waiting another day, and I don’t want to do that.” There was nothing they could have done before, but now that the weather had cleared, and she could walk, if they delayed any longer and Chad escaped because of that, she’d feel guilty. She didn’t want Dare to go on by himself and he didn’t want to leave her here, so she would walk. As long as her ankle would bear her weight, she’d keep going.
With the decision made, there was no point in delay, so they set about getting ready. Dare stowed the lantern and camp stove in the storage bin, secured their trash to be taken care of on a return trip, packed away his dried food supplies. “You’ll need a walking stick,” he said, taking a small hatchet from the storage bin. “I’ll take care of that while you pack what we’ll need in case we have to spend the night on the trail.”
While he was gone, Angie completely emptied her saddlebags, then looked over their supplies and set about packing the necessities: food and water, fire steel for making a fire, trash bags they could use as tarps if needed, the sleeping bag, which she folded and rolled as tightly as possible, and tied with the attached cords.