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Copyright ©2008 by C.S. Chatterly
First published in 2008, 2008
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A Total-e-bound Publication
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Melting the Minerals
ISBN #978-1-906328-90-0
©Copyright C.S. Chatterly 2008
Cover Art by Lyn Taylor ©Copyright December 2007
Edited by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
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This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author's imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
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Published in 2008 by Total-e-bound eBooks 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.
Warning:
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-sizzling.
Uniform Behaviour
MELTING THE MINERALS
C.S. Chatterly
Dedication
For my husband, Lee, and everyone out there who's keeping warm tonight.
Good reading to you!
[Back to Table of Contents]
CONTENTS
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
About the Author
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[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter One
Devin Wallace checked the map for the third time. She was surely on the right road, but the time she'd wasted getting here could cost her. She tried the engine again, but the ten-year-old pickup truck wasn't going anywhere. She looked out the windshield, saw snow falling even harder than it had been ten minutes earlier and smacked the steering wheel with the palms of both hands.
"Son-of-a-bitch!” she muttered, then struck the dash with her balled fist.
She contemplated walking, but leaving the safety of her truck would be fifty times more stupid than the decision to drive north in front of a blizzard. If she stayed, someone might find her.
She hoped she wouldn't freeze to death if she kept her head. But the decision to come north so suddenly was almost obsessive. She'd had to take the chance.
After grabbing her overnight bag from the seat beside her, Devin began to search through the contents. One bottle of water, a chocolate bar, two apples and a small bag of peanuts were her only food. Her nightgown, one pair of jeans, one pair of socks and one pair of underwear were the only other contents aside from her small makeup bag. Everything warmer was locked in the back of the truck along with her equipment. She'd have to get out of the truck to get to it, and that would let the cold in and the warmth out.
The clothing she wore was warm, so far. She thanked God for the hundredth time that she'd hastily invested in good winter gear for the trip. But there wasn't anything on Earth that could fight off the low temperatures promised by the weather forecasters.
"What was I thinking?” she uttered, and stared at the thickening wall of white in front of the truck.
There was nothing to do but wait, hope someone would check the road for travellers, and pray. But the highway into Cedar Ridge, Saskatchewan, wasn't a major route and she was pretty sure no one else was foolish enough to be driving around under these conditions.
She took off her wire-rimmed glasses, rubbed her eyes and quickly laid the glasses on the dash. There was no sense wearing something to help her see better when the world presented nothing but blinding snow. As the snow fell harder, waiting proved to be a test of her patience.
The temperatures plummeted and the long minutes sitting left her time to reflect on the foolishness of her actions. She had known better. It wasn't in her nature to take chances, but this time she had. Her friends called her “Deliberate Devin” for a reason. She based all her actions on rational thought processes honed from years of scientific study. But all that intelligent reasoning seemed to have fled in the face of the obsession she felt to get north.
One hour and twenty minutes later, Devin was on the verge of panic. The inside temperature of the truck had dropped considerably, the snow quickly piled up, and she was fairly certain it had reached the bottom of the driver's side running board.
She considered getting out after all and looking at the engine, but even if she could figure out what was wrong she'd lose what little heat her body provided in the cab. She pulled her knitted cap lower, lifted the hood of her parka, and wrapped her gloved hands around her shoulders.
Along with the other stupid acts she had mentally listed was precipitously cutting off her cell phone provider. She planned on getting a new one once she arrived in Cedar Ridge, one that wasn't quite so expensive. Now, she'd give that chocolate bar in her overnight bag for phone service.
But that could be carved into her tombstone along with the dozen or so other mistakes she'd made.
No extra food, no warmer clothing readily available, failing to have her truck checked, neglecting her cell phone capabilities ... the list went on.
Given her uncharacteristic lack of common sense, she found it incredible that she'd been awarded a Ph.D. But the chance to come north and make a new life for herself had clouded her senses. Now, she'd pay for not thinking.
And there was only one person on Earth who would care.
Uncle Ron.
Too late, she remembered that her uncle didn't even know where she was.
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Sergeant Treynor MacKenzie struggled to see through the blinding snow. If he hadn't been driving that road for the last ten years, he'd have never recognised it or the landscape.
At least he wouldn't have to wait out one of the worst storms in the last fifty years by bunking down at the detachment. His cabin was only another three miles, and the RCMP-issued four-wheel-drive would see him through. Once home, he'd light himself a huge fire, turn on the radio and heat some leftovers for dinner. Usually, a meal like that consisted of no more than beans. Tonight, it might be the canned soup he'd heated two evenings previously.
Staring intently for the cut-off to his cabin, Trey swore loudly as he almost rear-ended the truck on the right side of the road. He slammed on the brakes, and expertly steered into the resulting skid. For a full thirty seconds, he stared at the back end of the other vehicle, wondering who in hell would be out on an evening like this. His entire shift had been sent to the safety of their homes or elsewhere, since the locals knew better than to be out. There was little likelihood law enforcement or rescue would be
needed for the next two or three days. Except, of course, for the obvious tourist stalled in front of him at the moment.
Pulling up the hood of his parka, Trey quickly exited his truck. He fought his way through the thickening snow to the cab of the old pickup. It wasn't easy. Even with his weight and strength, the wind alone fought his every move. The biting crystals of icy snow aided the wind's torture by driving chards of sharp flakes into his cheeks.
He yanked up the muffler wrapped around his neck and wiped off the film of snow and ice forming on the driver's side window. Seeing someone inside, he banged on the glass. The person didn't move.
Hypothermia.
That was Trey's first thought. Whoever was inside needed help or they would be dead by morning. He quickly tried the door handle, but it was locked.
"Hey! If you can hear me, open the door,” he shouted and slammed his fist against the door metal. Trey stood on the verge of getting a tire iron from his truck when he finally saw movement.
Somewhere in Devin's fogged brain, she heard the shouting and pounding, but she was almost too tired to respond. She finally managed to lift her head and turn it towards the sound.
"Open the door. You've gotta get out of there,” the man warned.
Devin lifted her right hand, slowly forced it across her chest, and pulled up the lock at her left shoulder. The door opened so quickly she fell against the person standing outside.
The man put his hands on either side of her face. “Okay, lady. I've got you. But we're going to have to move fast. You need to get warm. Can you ... Hell!” The woman collapsed against him, unconscious.
Trey threw her body over one shoulder, forced the door shut with the hand not holding her butt in place, and made his way back to his truck. It took another five minutes fighting the wind. Every exposed portion of his face and neck stung as if hit by unseen shards of glass.
Gently placing the limp body in his passenger side seat and fastening it in place with a seat belt, he drove towards his cabin, the longest three miles of his life. Now, the snow was impossibly dense, and the brief encounter with the cold left his hands and body numb. Even with his polar gear on.
He feared the woman had been sitting in the cold too long given what he'd seen of her attempts to move, and the way she'd quickly gone unconscious.
Almost twenty minutes later, he pulled in front of his cabin, thankful he'd left on the living room lights that morning. The heater in the truck cab seemed to have done the woman some good. She woke up and clung to him as he lifted her and carried her into his cabin.
Devin remembered being carefully deposited on something soft. She remembered somebody talking to her, but she was more tired than at any other time in her life. And she never believed there would be another warm hour of existence for her. All she wanted to do was sleep and recognised the need to do so as a serious consequence of hypothermia.
Trey would have pulled off her knit cap, but knowing heat radiation from that part of the body could make her condition worse, he left it and the rest of her clothing on.
"Hey, you've got to try and wake up. I know it's hard, but we have to get your core temperature up. Do you understand?” Trey closely watched her for any signs of coherence.
"Core? Earth's core is ... is about seven thousand degrees Fahrenheit ... could even be higher."
Trey stared at her. “I'll try and remember that the next time I play a trivia game.” He pulled off his gloves, tossed them aside, and tossed a wool throw towards her from the back of the sofa. This he draped around her upper body.
"Blue."
Trey frowned. “The Earth's core is blue?
The woman smiled. “No, your eyes. Very blue. Very pretty."
He half-smiled back. “I'll take that as a sign you're coming around.” He pulled the wool throw tighter around her form, and checked her pulse at one wrist.
"Th-there's a fluid iron core around Earth's inner core. It was f-formed extremely early on in evolution. P-pressure is exceedingly higher at the inner core than at the surface. Many m-millions of times h-higher..."
"Why don't we start with something easier. Like your name."
"Devin. Doctor Devin Wallace."
"Doctor?” He scratched his forehead. “You mean medical?"
She weakly lifted a hand and waved it in a gesture of denial. “Geopalaeontologist."
"Never heard of one of those."
"Oh, not that many of us. Combination of geology and palaeontology.” She sighed and pulled the blanket closer. “Wow, it's a lot warmer in here."
"The heat is on. I don't like coming home to a stone-cold cabin.” He thought for a moment. “Wait a minute. There's a palaeontologist working on the other side of the valley. I've met him. He goes by the name of Ronald Wallace. Any kin?"
She grinned. “He's my uncle. I came up here to work with him."
"Up from where?"
"Montana."
Glad to see she was gradually recovering and not in the deepest stages of hypothermia as he'd first suspected, Trey kept her talking. “Why, in the world, did you pick this time of year to make a drive from Montana to Saskatchewan?"
"Two reasons. First, I was out of work. Second, I was stupid."
Trey pulled off his parka and tossed it onto a nearby chair. “Well, it looks like you'll be okay. Do you want to phone your uncle and let him know what happened? I'm sure he'll be worried when you don't show up."
She snuggled more deeply under the throw. “I don't need to phone him. He didn't know I was coming. It was supposed to be a surprise. And just call me Devin. I'm sorry ... I didn't get your name."
"Treynor MacKenzie. I'm a Sergeant with the RCMP and was on my way home to hunker down for the storm. I almost ran into your truck."
Devin swallowed hard. “Thank you. If you hadn't come along when you did, I guess I'd be an ice formation by now."
"How long had you been sitting along the side of the road?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe over two hours."
"Crap! It's a good thing you didn't try to leave. You'd be dead for sure.” As soon as he said it, Trey regretted the words. She turned an ashen colour and looked down at the braided rope rug at their feet. “I'm sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."
She shook her head. “Don't apologise. You're telling the truth. I thought I could beat the blizzard up here, but got lost along the way. It took me an hour to get back on the right road again. And I don't have a working cell phone, so I couldn't call anyone for help."
"What about gear? Didn't you think to bring—"
"Locked in the back of my truck. I didn't want to leave the front to get it. My truck stalled and I decided to stay right where I was."
Rather than question her further about what could have been an accident with deadly results, Trey decided to let the matter go. She was alive, and that was what mattered. “Feeling better now?"
She stared at him. “Yeah, thanks. I really do owe you."
He touched his forehead in a mock salute. “Just part of my job, ma'am.” When she reached up to pull off her knit cap, Trey put one hand over it. “You might want to leave that on until you're sure you're really warm. You can lose up to seventy percent of your body heat through your head."
She nodded and sat back against the soft cushions of the sofa. “Where are we?"
"My place. It was only a few miles from where I found you and the only building for about thirty miles.” Trey stood from his kneeling position and walked to the fireplace. “I'll open up the flue and get us a fire going."
Devin took the time to peruse her surroundings. Pictures, Native American blankets, and other paraphernalia from the north covered every conceivable area of the hewn-log walls. Knickknacks on the mantel included a trophy or two, and a pair of old snowshoes were mounted over the fireplace. Everything reminded her of a north woods hunting lodge, but it was clean and tidy and no garish animals hung on the walls to stare back at her with dead, accusing eyes.
Her gaze came to rest on the huge, handsome
man lighting the fire. She guessed he had to be at least six-feet, four-inches and looked like an outdoors type. This man appeared to be somebody used to hard physical work and building a strong physique while doing it.
"Uh, where's the Mrs.?"
"No Mrs. MacKenzie, I'm afraid. Just me."
A blast of wind shook the building so fiercely, the entire structure seemed to shudder. Devin looked at the roof, then back at him.
"Oh, don't worry. This was my great-grandparents’ place. It was built to withstand anything.” He watched as the fire burned brighter and the blaze leapt upward.
"I'm sorry to have caused you all this trouble ... uh, Sergeant, was it?"
"Just Trey.” He stood, walked towards her and took her pulse again. “Strong and steady. I reckon you'll survive."
"How can I thank you?"
He grinned and headed towards the kitchen. “Just promise not to do anything like this again. Okay?"
"You've got it. I was in such a hurry to get here, I wasn't thinking straight."
Devin scooted closer to the fire as she watched Trey working in the kitchen. It was an open area connected to the living room, but at the other end of the long building from where the fireplace was situated. “You've got a great cabin."
"Thanks. Took me years to install proper ventilation, electricity and plumbing. But it's finally done. I like it, though it's probably not something you're used to."
"I'm used to living out of my truck at digs. Wherever there's a fossil, rock outcrop with some potential, or a mineral find, I'm there.” She took a deep breath and tried to stand. Everything seemed to work, and she felt a thousand times better than she had when stuck in the cold cab of her truck.
Trey picked up the two cups of tea he'd made and carried them into the living room. “So, you're here just for the winter?"
Devin gratefully took one of the mugs from him and slowly sipped the hot brew. “I was looking for a permanent job. My uncle has a position on his team for someone with my background. I applied through the museum funding his work and got the post. But there's a year probation tacked on. You see, this will be the first time I've ever been in charge of the geologic side of a palaeontology dig without someone of a more prominent stature taking the lead."
Melting the Minerals Page 1