Free The Breaking Point by Karen Ball Page A

her. “Look out there. Don’t you
see?
It’ll be dark in a few hours. I can’t just sit here.”
    Wait patiently …
    “Wait on what? There’s no telling how cold it’s going to get, and I don’t know how badly Gabe is hurt. He may not be able to … to—”
    She bit back the sob that cut off her words. She couldn’t fall apart. Not now. She had to be strong. For Gabe. For herself.
    Renee swiveled to the backseat and Bo hopped out of her way as she grabbed at the canvas bag with frantic hands. Her abrupt movement was rewarded by an intense, searing pain, and nausea rippled through her. She couldn’t hold back the harsh cry.
    Bo rushed to her, licking at her face, tail beating out his anxiety. Renee held him off with one hand and gripped her side with the other. She tried to say something, to reassure the dog, but it was all she could do to drag shallow breaths through gritted teeth. She just hooked her arm over his shoulders and hugged him close, panting until the queasiness passed.
    Thankfully as though sensing she couldn’t bear any more, Bo settled down. He lay so that she could lean on him, his head resting on his paws, his eyes flicking from her to Gabe and back again.
    Poor critter. She and Gabe were his security, the ones who took care of him and made life right. They were the center of his world, and it must seem to his doggie brain as if they were definitely
not
living up to their responsibilities.
    She knew how he felt.
    But she wouldn’t just sit here, waiting for some kind of vague miracle to save them. She had to do something. She wasn’t sure what one did for bruised ribs, but cracked or broken ribs needed extra support. And ice packs.
    She allowed herself a laugh at that. She’d have no trouble finding an ice pack. She could just lie down in the snow. Of course, then she’d have to deal with hypothermia.
    She grabbed the roll of gray tape from the backseat, then stripped down to her shirt. It was a struggle, but she managed to wrap the tape around her midsection as tightly as she could stand it, stopping when the pain threatened to upend her stomach. When she finished, she sat for a moment, breathing slowly to still the trembling that assaulted her bruised body, staring at the towel covering her window, watching it move in and out … in and out with the wind.
    When she could move without wanting to scream, she pulled her layers of clothing back on. She was ready, but for what? What should she do?
    Think, Renee, think!
    She shoved herself up on her knees and peered into the backseat, not even sure what she was looking for … inspiration, if nothing else. Then she spotted the backpack she and Gabe used when they took Bo for a walk. An idea began to form, and she grabbed it, opening the flap and pulling out the long, bright yellow rope they used to let Bo run free. Or as free as one lets a male husky run outside some kind of enclosure.
    Renee studied the rope. That should do the trick.
    She popped the glove box open, her plan falling together as she pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. Every time she and Gabe traveled this road, she’d made a game of spotting the tiny cabins tucked in the woods at the side of the highway. They were few and far between, but they were there. And most of them had been fairly close to the Rogue River, which paralleled the highway she and Gabe had been driving before they went over the edge.
    All she had to do, then, was find the river and follow it. Her odds of finding at least one of those cabins should be pretty good. In any case, they were better odds than if she just sat in the truck, twiddling her thumbs, waiting for a rescue that might never come.
    Not until after the spring thaw, anyway.
    Renee scribbled a quick note—Gabe, I’ve
gone for help—
then paused, staring at the scrawled letters. That would never do. As clearly as if he were conscious and grilling her, she could hear the rapid-fire fifth degree Gabe would launch if he found a note like the one