CHAPTER ONE. Jake McCoy drove along the Taylor River, her Land Cruiser packed to the brim for a few weeks of unexpected solitude

Jake McCoy drove along the Taylor River, her Land Cruiser packed to the brim for a few weeks of unexpected solitude. She glanced in her side mirror, smiling as Cheyenne's face came into view. The dog hung out the open window, anticipation on her face as she realized where they were headed.

Jake had owned the tiny cabin near Tin Cup for eleven years, fixing it up little by little. At first, when she lived in Gunnison, she could come out every weekend. But living in Denver for the past five years had put a damper on her visits--and her renovations. Not that she regretted the move. Her salary had nearly doubled. Four or five more years of padding her saving's account and she'd be ready to move back permanently.

As the thick stands of pine, spruce, and fir flew by, she felt the familiar peace settle over her. With her own window open, she hung her arm out, loving the feel of the cool mountain air as it rustled across her body, bringing a smile to her normally impassive face. She watched the water glisten in the afternoon sun as the river almost roared down the canyon, bouncing off boulders on its way to Gunnison and the Black Canyon. She climbed the winding canyon road, finally reaching the dam where Taylor Reservoir spread out beneath the shadows of the Collegiate Peaks mountain range, the blue, blue water splashing against the shoreline on its haste to tumble over the dam and down the canyon.

Watching the handful of anglers that lined the shore, she realized that in late August, most of the tourists were gone. She turned right on the forest service road, bouncing along the dirt road as it made its way deeper into the forest, crossing several streams and wooden bridges. They climbed slightly when they reached the tiny community of Tin Cup, and she slowed as she passed the old general store, waving at the locals. She'd like to think that most knew her by now, but she realized it was really Cheyenne they recognized. She usually brought her supplies with her and seldom ventured into the store. Just a mile outside of Tin Cup, the forest road turned into a four-wheel drive road, and she downshifted, bouncing over the rocks that now lined the road. She drove past the cutoff that would take her over Cumberland Pass and continued on until she came to Mirror Lake, one of the most picturesque lakes she'd ever seen, the reflection of the mountain peak behind it shimmering clearly on the still water. Crossing over the dirt-packed dam, she headed around the canyon with Cumberland Pass hovering over to her right. She would top nine thousand feet before she reached her cabin. Even though the days remained warm and comfortable, the nights would drop into the thirties. She hoped there was enough firewood. She doubted she'd be able to cut any on this trip. Rubbing her injured leg gently she thought she might just give it a try. She'd been laid up so long already, she was starved for physical exercise.

She met her eyes in the mirror, frowning slightly. She'd promised her lieutenant she'd take it easy. That was why he'd agreed to let her spend the beginning of her " desk duty only" assignment up here. He knew she'd go completely insane being tied to a desk for a month, perhaps longer if her physical therapist had his way. Well, she was stronger than she looked and much too stubborn to let a bullet to the leg keep her out of commission for months. Two weeks in the hospital had nearly done her in, another full week in bed with that psycho therapist insisting on flexing her leg once an hour. Grudgingly, she knew it had helped. It just hurt like a son of a bitch. Last week, he'd finally had her walking, first using a walker that embarrassed her to no end, then finally a cane. At least with the cane, she could use it to threaten him when he pushed too hard. She let a small smile escape as she recalled how she'd whacked him across his shoulder two days ago with the cane. He had been adamant that she was not ready for this trip, that she could not possibly get around in the mountains by herself.

" Like hell I can't, " she said out loud. Cheyenne moved from the window to the space between the seats, standing on the console and nudging Jake with her wet nose. " I know, girl. About there."

Most of the land along Cumberland Pass was public, but there were pockets here and there that were privately owned. Her own cabin sat on just two acres, but it was surrounded by the national forest, and when she stood on the huge boulders and surveyed the mountains around her, she felt like she owned it all.

She downshifted into low as she made the last climb, finally stopping at the small wooden gate that marked her property. Cheyenne danced excitedly, urging her to hurry. Opening the door, she gritted her teeth, knowing that the last three hours of driving without a break would have taken their toll on her leg. Using the cane to support herself, she gingerly straightened up, putting more weight on her injured leg. She gasped as the pain shot through her, and she gripped the cane tightly. The pain passed as it always did. For probably the thousandth time, she wondered if she'd ever fully recover. If not, well, she could either accept desk duty for the rest of her career or take the disability package and retire. She looked around her, breathing deeply the fresh smell of the mountains. If she didn't love her job so damn much, she'd take the disability in a minute. But once she did it, that was it. Wasn't like she could go back into law enforcement after that. No one would hire her. And at thirty-eight, she was a little young to retire up here and hide out in her cabin. She'd turn into a bona fide hermit before she knew it. She liked being alone too much to turn out otherwise.

After taking a few steps, being careful not to trip on a rock, the feeling in her leg returned to somewhat normal. She grabbed the padlock, inserting her key and turning, listening for the click that was about to open up her world. She swung the gate open, then hobbled over to secure it so she could drive through, knowing she'd just have to do it all over again when she stopped to close it. She'd close it and lock it and... finally, after nearly a month of being waited on by nurses, she'd have complete solitude. She and Cheyenne. They'd only been together two years, but they'd bonded like no other dog she'd ever had. She often wondered if Cheyenne could hear her thoughts. She had no doubt the dog understood her spoken words. A high-pitched bark urged her to hurry and she laughed.

" I know, I know." She crawled back inside and drove through the gate, stopping once again to close the gate and lock it. Cheyenne was nearly dancing by the time she got back inside. She ruffled the dog's fur, then sat still as a wet tongue swiped at her cheek. She drove on, curving to the right as the tiny road was nearly swallowed by the forest. Just a short distance later, her cabin appeared. " Here we are, Cheyenne."

The small cabin looked like it could have easily been built in the 1800s. It was as rustic as it could get and still have plumbing and electricity. And that was why Jake loved it. Of course, when she bought it, there wasn't plumbing and electricity. She'd made do with the old outhouse and hauling in water, but that soon got old. So, she spent a small fortune on a well and having electricity brought up the pass. But the other renovations, like the new porch and the added bedroom, she'd done herself. Mostly. It was just a one-room cabin when she bought it. Now, eleven years later, it had a separate bedroom and bathroom, and a real kitchen. The original part of the cabin was now entirely a living room, with one whole wall composed of a rock fireplace and nothing else.

She opened the back door of the Land Cruiser, and Cheyenne bolted out, nose to the ground as she sniffed around the cabin. Jake walked slowly to the porch, taking the first step with difficulty. Using the cane and the handrail, she pulled herself up. She felt nearly disgusted with her inadequacy and had to push it aside, knowing it would pass. But she was impatient. She paused on the porch and looked back at the Land Cruiser, wondering how in the world she was going to unpack it.

" Very slowly."

Well, she had nothing but time. A slow smiled formed as she stood on the porch. She let the familiar smells of the forest relax her and embraced the peace she felt as she stared out at the mountains. Yes, nothing but time.