Free Dark Witness by Rebecca Forster Page A

was twenty-two because he was no more comfortable in Florida's humidity and heat than he had been in the midst of his large family of brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, first, second, and third cousins. He grew tired of his mother wondering if he would ever get married and his father telling him that marriage was not all women cracked it up to be. He was unnerved by his sisters' squealing babies, their complaints about their husbands' lack of attention, or the fact that grown women seemed to cry for the sake of crying. Andre was befuddled by his brothers who thought a car engine was beautiful yet had no use for a clear blue sky. His one brother's two ex-wives were scary as were his other brother's parade of girlfriends teetering on very high heels and wearing very short-shorts. It wasn't that Andre didn't like women; he just liked women of a different sort. So he left Florida behind, confident that he was now more a part of his family than he ever had been. His life in Alaska gave them something to talk about while they grilled their steaks and drank away their Sundays.
    Andre leaned forward, calling out to let his huskies know he was still part of the team. They had covered ten miles and had another three to go before they made it to the field, and they still ran as if they were morning fresh. He pedaled the sled. The cold air was like champagne fizzing against his skin. A fringe of ice had formed on his mustache and beard. There were deep lines around his blue eyes, earned in the hours spent straining to see the point just beyond the furthest point on the horizon. Andre hoped he never saw it, but he kept trying. His jaw was square under his trim beard and his cheekbones were high. He was tall. He was broad of chest, slim of hip, and comfortable in his skin. He was twenty-nine years old and the summer campers or winter visitors who came upon him often took pictures so they could show people at home the beautiful man they had come across in Alaska. The criminals he apprehended, the abusive husbands he confronted, the poachers he tracked down more often than not simply gave up when Andre showed up so impressive was his appearance. Andre, though, was oblivious. However handsome he might be, his looks paled in comparison to the wilderness around him.
    Today's sky, for instance, reminded Andre of Boris' coat. A true Siberian husky, the blue-eyed dog was white on the belly and black and grey on his back and ruff. His coloring was as dramatic in contrast as the deep and threatening colors of the sky above and the bright white of the snow below. Andre pedaled once more, and the dogs pulled faster to please him, and all too soon they arrived at their destination where Nell was waiting. She called out as he came close. She beamed at Andre, but threw her arms out to the dogs as the sled came to a stop. First Boris and then all the others in turn, talking as she would to well-reared but excitable children.
    "You're happy aren't you? Yes, you are. You had a good run." She ruffled their fur and unhitched them one by one. "I thought maybe you'd mushed your way to Russia, Andre."
    "I would have if I could have." André joined her and together they managed the rigging.
    "I hope you would have at least stopped for a chat on the way," Nell laughed as her work-worn hands buried themselves in one dog's dense coat.
    Andre admired those hands. They were as rough as any man's and aged beyond their years. The fact that Nell wasn't ashamed of them was damn sexy. She didn't notice him looking and soon the team was free, sent off for their food and a well-deserved rest. Andre released the straps on his gear and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Nell put her hands on her hips and gave him the once over.
    "You look like you had a good run yourself, Andre."
    "Can't complain." He swung his pack forward again and dug into the side pocket for her mail. "By Pass Service, ma'am"
    "Thanks."
    Nell took the stack of envelopes, but showed no interest in the