by Rain Trueax
Helene awoke and crept out of the sleeping bag, determined Phillip would spend the rest of the day recovering his strength. She glanced back and saw his gaze on her. "You are going to stay in bed," she ordered as she pulled on her clothing.
He rose from the bed and let out the dog. "And who opens the gate for the cattle to eat that hay we worked so hard to load?" Unselfconscious about his own nudity, he stood in front of the stove and watched her dress, an appreciative gleam in his eyes.
"I suppose I do."
"If you think I'm letting you go up there by yourself, you're more crazy than I am."
"Phillip!"
He grinned. "Don't Phillip me. It won't work. I'm going to saddle Sunshine and let him take me up there. I think we have a little lull in the storm. The going should be easier by daylight." He walked over to the door and let in Hobo, who shook snow off his fur as he headed for his food bowl.
"People who've had frostbite are more susceptible to getting it again," she began when he interrupted, "That might be so--if I'd had frostbite, but I don't think I did." He laughed at her look of outrage. "From my muddled thinking last night, I think I had hypothermia and very cold extremities, which might have become more serious--if I had stopped to enjoy the scenery or if Hobo hadn't found me when he did or if you hadn't ministered to me so lovingly." He flexed his fingers, the smile not leaving his lips as he looked down at his naked body. "Actually, I think all of my extremities are working fine. Of course, it would be good to test them again... soon."
She flushed at his arousal, and her own body's warm reaction to his suggestion. She could see no argument was going to change his mind. "All right, if you're going outside to feed stock, so am I," she stated adamantly, stubbornly setting her chin and folding her arms over her chest.
He shrugged. "Think we could get some coffee first?"
She looked toward the cook stove. "I hope so," she said, the first uncertainty in her voice. "Last night I made some, but it was pretty strong."
"I remember," he said with a grin as he began searching through his clothing for something wearable. Most was still damp as Helene had thrown them into a pile when she had stripped him. He looked unenthusiastically toward the door that led to what had to be a nearly frigid hall and stairs.
"I suppose I'm going to have to go upstairs," he lamented mournfully, "into that frozen wasteland and search for something dry to wear." He put his damp garments over the chair back.
She emptied the coffee pot of last night's brew and refilled it from her water supply. "I suppose so," she said unsympathetically. "After the energy you demanded to exert earlier and your stubborn determination to go outside--back into the snow and ice--it shouldn't hurt you to go into a merely unheated upstairs." Her own mind was filled with the problem of cooking on Bessie, as she'd decided to name the big stove.
Phillip unenthusiastically wrapped himself in the quilt. He patted Hobo on the head. "You want to come with me, boy?"
The dog looked blankly at him and sat back on his haunches. "Too tough of terrain, huh?" Phillip said, took a deep breath, opened the door and went through the doorway, a blast of cold air shooting into the kitchen before he could close it. The door opened again as he poked his head back into the kitchen. "If I'm not back in ten minutes, send out the patrol." And then he was gone.
Helene grinned as she measured coffee into the top of the coffee pot and set it on the cook stove. She took small sticks from the wood box and built back up the fire. She was uncertain exactly what she could cook for breakfast that would prove nourishing and edible. Oatmeal was out--took too long, and she wasn't confident enough about her control of Bessie. She opted for bacon and eggs. She guessed she and Phillip could stand the cholesterol. She certainly didn't plan on preparing any fancy dishes for them until the electricity came back.
When the phone rang, she jumped before she realized there was no longer anything to fear from it. Or was there? What about Uncle Amos?
She heard Emile's voice. "I just thought I'd see how you were all faring up there. Need any help?"
Lordy, she realized she should have called him last night and told him about his father. Everything that had happened had pushed it from her mind and she didn't for a moment believe Curly or Uncle Amos would have informed him. As briefly as possible, she gave Emile the facts. "The doctor felt he wouldn't have another heart attack," she said, trying to be reassuring, "but they want to take him to Bozeman for further tests. You can call Doc Albertson this morning and see how he is."
"Blast it all," Emile groaned, "I can't believe this. I should've been coming around more. I knew he's been working too hard."
"No," Helene said, tucking the phone in the crook of her shoulder while attempting to separate slices of bacon, "I think it's his diet, his age, genetics, and only then worry over the ranch. More than once Uncle Amos has said you have your own place and your own life to run. Don't you dare start feeling guilty. It won't help anybody."
The kitchen door slammed open as Phillip walked back into the room, tucking a flannel shirt into his jeans. He stood by the stove to warm his hands.
"Do you think I should drive in there today?" Emile asked.
"I don’t really think they can get the roads cleared and there might be another blow this afternoon. I think you should stay put." Helene mouthed Emile's name to Phillip's questioning eyebrows. "It would be foolish to get into an accident when there really is nothing you can do."
Phillip nodded his hearty agreement to that. Moving from the warmth of the stove, he retrieved the fry pan from its hook and put it on the counter in front of her where she could count out bacon strips into it.
"Do you need help up there?" Emile asked. "How about the livestock?"
"We loaded up hay yesterday," Helene said as Phillip set the pan on the stove. "Phillip and I can take care of everything that needs doing. You just take care of your wife and baby."
After she hung up, she shook her head. "Guilt. It's such a useless emotion, but it seems we human beings are always falling into the trap."
Phillip grinned. "Unless we have some intelligent person helping us get a handle on ourselves."
"Which I guess we all need sometimes." Helene retrieved a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. "I think we can toast the bread on the surface of the stove," she said, looking at the bubbling bacon, half surprised the stove seemed to be cooperating so nicely.
"Anything would sound good to me. I haven't eaten since... yesterday morning."
"If you'll recall, I tried to feed you last night," she reminded him.
"I was hungry for something else last night,” he said teasingly.
"I told you if you want to smoke, it would be all right with me," she said, thinking maybe he was deferring out of consideration for her. She certainly didn't want him going out into the snow to smoke.
"I decided I’m quitting--at least I hope I am. It seems hypocritical to tell Derek he had to lay off drugs when I am pulling out a cigarette to steady my own nerves."
She smiled. "You think right now is a good time to start?”
He looked tempted but shook his head. “We’ll see.”
They watched the coffee perk. "How long before the caffeine's ready?" he asked, eyeing it hopefully. "After all, I have to have a few vices."
She ran her tongue over her dry lips. "I have no idea."
"None?" he asked with raised eyebrows.
"Not a clue. I'm used to measuring it all into an automatic that decides everything for me. This is new territory."
"How long did that stuff you made last night perk?" he asked, grinning.
She tilted her head consideringly. "Maybe twenty minutes to half an hour."
"It could've even put hair on even my chest."
She laughed as she reached out to stroke his chest, marveling at the feel of the hard muscle even through the flannel shirt. "I like your chest just the way it is. So, I hope it didn't."
His blue eyes glinted. "You do much of that, and we won't be waiting 'til after we fe
ed the cattle to find out again if all the apparatus is working."
"Is that supposed to scare--or entice me?" she asked, taking the coffee off the stove to let the grounds settle. At least that was one thing she had learned about making coffee the old fashioned way.
He bent and lightly kissing her lips, his hand stroking the nape of her neck. "So which is it?"
"You might do that again... purely to help me make up my mind." After a few moments of tempting provocation, she sniffed the air and knew she had to get the bacon out of the pan or watch it ignite. Moving reluctantly from Phillip's arms, she lifted the fry pan off the heat and forked the crisp strips to layered paper towels. Breaking eggs into the hot grease and putting bread on the surface of the stove to toast, she smiled up at him. "This is a breakfast to die for."
"That good for us, huh?"
"Definitely." She poured the coffee. "We'll add this caffeine for a little added danger."
He laughed. "I think I've had enough living dangerously to last me for awhile."
“Knowing you, I doubt it.” They sipped the hot coffee and watched the eggs cook. "You really scared me last night, Phillip," she said, although she knew he probably already realized it.
"I scared myself," he agreed, watching her over the rim of his cup. "I've come close to dying a time or two before, but I definitely cut it too close this time."
It was all she could do to keep the tears from flowing again. "I don't know what I'd have done if..."
He smiled and tilted up her chin so their gazes met. "But I made it. Thanks to you and Hobo." He grinned at the dog under the table whose ears had perked up at the mention of his name. "I made it because I had to. We have a lot of things unsettled between us."
"You weren't the only one who learned something last night. The only thing that matters is for us to be together."
Those finely shaped brows raised again. "Nothing else?" he asked with one of those smiles he did so well that melted her to her toes.
She shook her head, not looking away. "Absolutely nothing. I want whatever you want, Phillip. I'll live wherever you want to live. Anything but face losing you again. I want to be your wife in every way."
He bent and lightly claimed her lips, the kiss one of soft promise. The ringing phone interrupted whatever he might have said.
Helene answered. "Yes, Uncle Amos," she said, smiling back at Phillip, who was watching her with bemused eyes.
"Everything's fine," she reassured her anxious uncle. "The snow's let up enough that we shouldn't have much problem letting the cows reach that feed. You just do whatever the doctor says." She listened to his concerns and then repeated her admonition before she hung up.
"The doctor says he's looking good, but he wants him to go to Bozeman for further tests on his arteries. Uncle Amos doesn't like it, but he's agreed. Hopefully they can get there before it starts blowing again."
Phillip nodded. Helene found herself again caught by those compelling blue eyes. She felt she could drown in them, lose herself in their depths and yet she knew Phillip wouldn't ask her to do that. She'd learned so much about him in the weeks they'd been in Montana. He was a strong man, stronger than she'd guessed, but his strength didn't demand her loss of self. He had encouraged her to write for the newspaper, to help her uncle and Nancy. She was no longer afraid of loving Phillip. After his horrible experience with the Montana winter, the near loss of his life, she knew he would never want to make his home in this country, but that was all right too.
She buttered their toast and slid the overdone eggs onto plates. "It isn't the Colonial Inn," she said, handing him his plate of food, "but we won't starve."
After they’d eaten, Phillip walked over to his coat. "It won't take me long to open that gate," he said. "I'll check on the cows and be back in less than an hour. Keep everything warm for me." He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
Helene frowned. "I am going with you."
"It's only going to take one of us to open that gate. You stay in here where it's warm. I won't be that long. I know what I've got waiting for me." He grinned at her scowl. "Trust me, babe," he added, his voice soft. "I'll take care of your uncle's stock."
"I do trust you, Phillip, but do you trust me?" she asked, looking straight into his eyes. "Are you going to try to protect me from everything that's difficult or maybe dangerous?" This was important, a part of their future together. Could he understand her need to go with him?
He smiled then. "You saddle your own horse," he quipped, shrugging into his coat and heading out the door, the big German shepherd at his heels.
Helene laughed as she quickly pulled insulated cover-alls over her jeans and flannel shirt. She wanted a marriage where she was more than an ornament, and it looked as though with Phillip she was going to get it. She knew part of wanting to go with him was because his ordeal had been too recent for her to want to let him out of her sight, but that wasn't all. She wanted to be part of his life, to work at his side, not sit protected someplace waiting for him to return. In his business world, that wasn’t likely; but she’d find ways to share where she could.
As she walked out of the house into the crisp air, the snow was still lightly siftering down. Although the sky was fairly bright overhead, she could see a darker sky to the northwest. They’d have to move fast as possibly more snow was coming. Phillip waited at the barn, two horses saddled. She smiled as she pulled his head down for a kiss before she took the reins to her horse.
The horses labored to break a path through the snow. Their breath came out in puffs of white steam. "Now, I don't feel so bad about wearing myself out last night," Phillip said with a grin.
Hobo bounded through the drifts, scented the air, then came back to follow the blazed trails of the big horses.
The land was pristine with its white covering. Helene could see across the hills, and everywhere was the beauty of newly fallen snow. It seemed impossible to believe that such beauty could be life threatening. This was a harsh land, little forgiving of mistakes. She could only feel gratitude that it had given her back Phillip.
As she shifted her weight in the saddle, Phillip pointed, and she watched a rabbit bound across the road. Hobo, behind them, was totally oblivious to the little animal. "I'm surprised he's out in this," she said as she watched the rabbit disappear.
"Maybe he got caught outside last night too and is on his way back to his spread," Phillip drawled, then laughed. "I am beginning to sound like one of your Western men."
"They're not mine anymore," she said, smiling at him. "All I want now is an Easterner, but I'm pretty particular about which one."
"Oh, looking for qualifications are you? Going to ask for applicants to send in résumés?"
"I might."
"Well, what qualities should this paragon of virtue possess?"
"He has to stand about six foot one, and have the bluest eyes I ever saw. His jaw should be square and, of course, he's got to be blond and handsome."
"So, only physical attributes count in this dream man."
"Well there are a few other things. He should be loyal. The kind of man who does what he promises. A man who'll take on difficult jobs and somehow or other finish them, no matter how much it costs him."
"Kind of a Don Quixote, tilting at windmills, taking on impossible missions and falling flat on his face?"
She wrinkled her nose at his sarcasm. Unable to resist laughing, she nodded in agreement. "Maybe. Like coming west to Montana, giving up everything he knew, and proving once and for all to some silly woman that he was a hero."
"Seems pretty stupid to me," he retorted dryly.
She smiled at him, a warmth flooding through her at the tender expression in his eyes. "Not stupid, never stupid."
Ahead, they could see the cattle, their backs covered with snow, bunched against the fence that kept them from the covered stacks of hay. At the sight of Phillip, the cows began to bellow, the sound carrying over the frozen landscape and seeming to fill the air all around them.
> "While you tend to your fan club," Helene asked, "should I check on the spring to see if they're still getting water?"
"Good idea," Phillip answered, dismounting and raising his voice so she could hear him over the cacophony. "Although if it's frozen, I don't know what we'll do about it." He pulled the wire loop over the post, lifting the gate. "I can't see us carrying a couple of hundred buckets of water up here."
He grinned at her as he let her through the gate. "I'll open up the fences but we’ll have to be sure we get back up here as soon as the storm lets up. If the springs are providing water, they’ll probably hang around for that and the salt, but your uncle tells me cows like to go walk about—even if there’s nothing but desert and sand on the other side."
Helene laughed. "And the worst is that once they get through somewhere they never can figure out where that hole was--so they don't come home 'til you go get them."
Phillip grinned. "That's the story, and I'm thinking I've got better things to do with the rest of this day than go chasing after cows."
"Then I guess we better hurry," Helene said, giving her horse a light kick in the side to convince her that she should leave Sunshine.
Where the cattle had been milling, the snow was beaten down, but half way across the pasture, it deepened and Helene let her mare pick her way through the drifts, occasionally finding a path the cattle had used. Behind her she could still hear the symphony of bellows but ahead, the land was hushed with the quiet only a blanket of snow could pull over the land.
As she rode, she thought how much she loved this rugged country. Even knowing it might have taken Phillip's life, even knowing she might never live here again, it would always be part of her dreams. Perhaps not the way the imaginary image of a man once had been, but in a way that would allow it be a part of who she was. It wasn't a thing that would take away her satisfaction in living, but it would be part of a set of memories to draw on whenever life grew dismal--as life, no matter how carefully it was planned, inherently had a way of doing.
The spring had been fenced on one side to keep the cattle from destroying the source of water. On the lower side, it had been dug out, improved with gravel and cement barriers to improve sanitation and enlarge the amount of water. The slightly heated water was running free in the center of the pool, still bubbling up from its underground source.