Reese Daniels, the local sheriff and her partner Morgan, head of the forest service's regional office here. Burgers at Sloan's Bar had become a treat, and she'd actually made friends, something she hadn't done in ten years. She'd made the mistake of taking too many trips into Lake City, however. Her solar panels and water well gave her all the comforts she needed. Building the cabin proved to be a two-year effort, but she didn't have to rely on anyone up here. A trip to the tiny town of Lake City confirmed it, and she purchased her property four years ago. Hinsdale County-the least populated in all of Colorado-seemed perfect for her. Especially after running into her brother, of all people, when he brought his entourage up to party and ski. After almost six years in Aspen, holed up in a remodeled mining shack outside of town, she'd felt the need to get even farther away from crowds. It looked heavy with snow, but she'd not lived here long enough to know the mountain yet. She glanced up the mountain toward Cooper's Peak. Now that their second winter together was underway, she'd adjusted to them. They were a handful at first, so full of energy and child-like joy to be up here in the mountains. A rescue shelter in Denver found her these two, both under a year old. But as much as she relished the recluse tag that still clung to her, she missed the companionship. It was heartbreaking to lose him, even though he'd only been with her six years.

When Nico had died, she'd decided not to get another. She paused to watch them frolic, a smile fixed to her face. She laughed as Kia lunged at Sierra, only to sink to her belly as Sierra jumped safely out of the way. The two Siberian Huskies, with their intelligent blue eyes as striking as the Colorado sky, burrowed in the snow around her.

'It doesn't get any better than this, girls.' The snow clouds had drifted lower, but up here on the mountain, the sun was shining brightly, the blue azure sky almost an overload to her senses. She turned in a circle, hands held out as she sunk past her knees in the fresh snow.

Snow falls by gerri hill