My friends would tell ya I was a mean, cold, unfeeling son of a bitch. That is IF I had friends. I don't and I like it that way. You know that old saying "The more people I meet, the more I like my dogs".

I do like my dogs, though. If not for them, I'd be lying dead from Cree arrows. As it is, I'm still limping along on a game leg from where one of those Cree bastards hit me. Sneaky bastards I should say. A little over a week ago, four of them jumped me, as my dogs and I worked my sled loaded down with a season's worth of furs, through a twisting section of trail. You'd think that with four of 'em, they'd have been willing to face me, but instead, they started shooting arrows from behind a deadfall of trees. I'm not bitching mind you; them being cowards probably saved my life.

Ya see, as soon as the first arrow hit me, I dived down behind the sled and managed to cut the dogs loose. I'm a mean son of a bitch, but I got nothing on my lead dog — he's a REAL mean son of a bitch. He's not only mean; he's smart in an evil kind of way. As soon as I cut them loose, he took off around the backside of the deadfall, with the rest of the team right behind. It wasn't long before I heard a scream and knew that at least one of those bastards was finding out just how mean and evil a 120 lb. wolf could be.

This distraction gave me time to crawl a short distance away into the underbrush. As I lay there bleeding, I watched as three injuns came high tailing it out of the dead fall and quickly began to ransack my sled. The three of them were obviously scared of the dogs, so the weren't wasting any time. They proceed to steal anything that they could quickly grab — of course; this included my bundles of pelts.

Those injuns made a BIG mistake by leaving me alive. After I got the arrow out and the bleeding stopped, it took me four days to heal up enough so that I could travel. I must be get'en soft. It didn't make any difference though; I was going after those braves and somebody was going die.

I trailed those injuns for four days and I was closing in on them. It was early afternoon when I first smelled the smoke. I had found my quarry.

I PULLED my spare rifle from its scabbard. Signaling the dogs to be still, I crawling up the rise in front of me and peered over the top. Looking down from my vantage point, I wasn't overly surprised by what I saw: a burning outbuilding, a white man's body lying face down in the snow and what appeared to be most of the occupant's personal items spread around the yard of a good sized cabin. What did come as a surprise was when I saw one of the three injuns I had been chasing, pull a girl, in a faded and ripped gingham dress, out of the cabin. The other two injuns immediately followed him and the girl. The girl, who looked to be in her teens, was obviously terrified, as was evident from her sobs and the tears running down her face.

I really didn't give a damn one way or the other about the girl, the man, or the cabin — I focused solely on those three injuns. I made a point of moving slowly so as not to draw their attention as I sighted down the barrel of my rifle. I shouldn't have worried, because they were busy laughing, hooting, and hollering, as they started to play grab ass with the girl. One injun would grope and fondle the girl then shove her across to the next one. Each time they shoved the girl they made sure to rip away a piece of her clothing - not that I cared, but it was real clear that they were going to rape the hell out of the girl. As my finger started to pull back on the trigger, I had the brief thought that it was too bad about my bum leg or I might enjoy a piece of the girl myself...

I don't even really recall shooting. The next thing I was truly aware of was the blood of three dead injuns staining the surrounding snow dark red.

The girl had obviously gone into shock. As I stood and limped down the hill, all she did was stand there and stare at the dead bodies lying around her. As I got nearer, I could see that she was trembling from both the cold and from fear. As I said before, I'm a mean, cold, unfeeling son of a bitch and the last thing I need is a woman going into hysterics around me. So, as I came to a halt in front of her I did what felt natural — I slapped her hard across the face, knocking her to the ground.

Looking down at her, I growled, "Girl, get your ass in that cabin and start some food and coffee; I'm going to get these bodies outta here."

Without saying a word, she shakily stood and headed for the cabin, but before she went through the door, she turned and meekly said "Mister? I don't care what you do with them heathens, but what are you going to do with my Papa's body?"

I actually felt a little sorry for the girl. It felt weird actually giving a damn, but I said, "Don't worry about your Pa, girl. I'll make sure that he gets a good Christian burial — Now get a move on!" She just nodded and went into the cabin.

I was dead on my feet when I returned to the cabin. Much to my own surprise, I had even remembered an old prayer to say over the grave of the girls Daddy. Damn, I thought to myself as I limped back to the cabin, I must be getting soft.

Before going into the cabin, I reloaded all of my stolen pelts. If things went right, I thought, and if the weather held, I still just might be able to make Yellowknife before the spring snow melt made crossing all them swollen streams and rivers impassable. Ya see, it was still gonna be plenty cold and if ya get wet through you were as dead as if ya'd been shot.

Kicking the snow off my boots, I finally entered the cabin. I liked what I felt — warmth from a big blazing fireplace. I also LOVED what I smelled — a big pot of stew and a steaming pot of coffee both simmering on the hearth. With surprising efficiency, the girl poured the coffee, filled a plate full of stew, and set them on the sturdy wooden table in the middle of the room.

I watched the girl as I removed my gear. Now that she had calmed down, she actually was a pretty, little thing; even with the bruise that was starting to darken her cheek. Long wavy brown hair cascaded down over a petite frame and firm pert breasts. She still had on the torn gingham dress, so I could see some glimpses of a shapely waist and a compact bottom through the tears the injuns had made.

I suddenly felt kinda bad about hitting the girl like I did. So, I looked at her and said, "Sorry about hitting you like that out there. By the way, what's your name, kid?"

With a steady stare, she said, "My name's Elizabeth but Pa always called me Lizzie ... and I just turned eighteen ... and no, sir ... you was right to slap me like you did. I was 'bout to start scream'en and you knocked some sense back in'da me." "'Sides" she went on, "you killed them heathens that killed my Pa, so if that were the cost, I consider it a bargain."

"Spunky little thing" I thought to myself.

Maybe that's why I wasn't completely taken aback when she continued and said "But I'll tell you one thing for sure, Mister. I ain't no kid! I'll hold my own when you take me to Ft. McMurray."

As I sat down at the table and picked up my coffee, I stared right back at her and growled, "That might be so, KID, but it ain't happening. First of all, I ain't going to Ft. McMurray. Second of all, it'll be nigh on impossible as it is to just reach Yellowknife. With this bad leg, and a full load of pelts on my sled, I can't take along anybody or anything else, other that what I already got. So I'm gonna rest up this gimp for a couple of days and them I'm moving out by myself." Figuring the subject was closed I shoveled a spoonful of stew into my mouth.

What that damn girl said next almost made me spit that stew across the room. Scrutinizing me through angry eyes, Lizzie said "OK Mister, how much for the damn pelts!"

I just stared at here like she was plain loco. As I started to say "What the FU..." Lizzie 'quick as you please' opened the door of a cabinet, took out a canvass bag, and threw it on the table in front of me. As the bag hit the tabletop, it came open, spilling out gold nuggets.

... CK", I finally managed to finish, staring at the bright yellow fortune in front of me.

I looked up at Lizzie as she smugly said, "Just so you know, that outbuilding that burnt was the entrance to Pa's mine. That oughta cover the cost of them pelts, don't cha think, mister?"

"Oh, shit" I thought, she's fucking serious!

"Hell yes, that's enough money to buy them pelts", I began to yell, "and about ten time as many more, you little fool!" Knowing I wasn't going to get off that easy, I finished by saying "put that damn gold away someplace safe, Kid, and let me sleep on it. We'll talk about it more in the morning — right now, I'm too tuckered out to think straight."

This seemed to placate Lizzie for the short term. She got me set up in a big, comfortable bed by the fire and settled herself upstairs in the loft. Just as I was falling asleep, she asked, "Hey, mister? What's your name, anyway?

"Jake" I said.

A few minutes later I heard her softly say "Good night, Jake" as I fell asleep.

Morning came too damn fast and it came too damn violent. Lizzie was already up, had stoked the fire, and started the coffee. Trying to be helpful, I opened the cabin door thinking to fill a bucket with snow so that it could sit next to the fire to melt. As the door swung inward, two feet of fresh snow rolled in after it. This was immediately followed by a howling, freezing wind that numbed my face in an instant.

"Damn it, a fucking blizzard - I'm really going to hafta haul ass now" I curse, as I slammed the door. Turning I found Lizzie standing there quizzically looking at me, so I just stared back at her.

She calmly finished pouring a cup of coffee, which she placed on the table for me. "Think we need to talk" she said taking a seat at the table and indicating that I should do like-wise.

I was ready for this. I was NOT taking her to Yellowknife. In fact, from the looks of the weather, I wasn't real confident that I could make it by myself. So as I sat down, I started running through reasons why I couldn't take her with me.

With her hands neatly folded in front of her, and wearing a clean dress, Lizzie waited for me to sit all the way down before she shocked the hell out of me once again.

Looking me straight in the eye, she said, "You were right Jake. There is no way that we can make it to Yellowknife, much less to Ft. McMurray with this much snow. Even if I rode in the sled, I'd freeze to death before we got half way there. And to be perfectly honest, Jake; I can't see you making it even by yourself, with that bum leg of yours." Sitting there prim and proper like some little ol' school marm, Lizzie continued, "So, I guess we just need to make a deal 'tween us — an' here it is: I'm too weak to chop enough wood to last through the rest a' the winter, so I'd freeze here by myself. I can't hunt so I'd starve — you'll have to stay and do those things for me, Jake." Reaching beneath her chair, where she had it out of sight, Lizzie put that damn bag of gold on the table and slid it towards me. "Jake, this will be your pay for staying with me til the creeks can be forded; plus you keep your pelts. Those pelts will bring in a lot more money if you sell them later in the spring anyway — so you see, you get paid both ways" she said with a smile.