Two Alone

by Sandra Brown

  While they ate, Cooper and she had a captivated audience. The older man’s stare was more subtle than his son’s, but possibly more observant. His deep-set eyes didn’t miss a single move they made.

  He broke a long silence by asking, “You married?”

  “Yes,” Cooper lied easily. “Five years.”

  Rusty swallowed the last bite she’d taken, hoping that the Gawrylows didn’t notice how difficult it was to get down. She was glad Cooper had taken the initiative to answer. She didn’t think she could have uttered a word.

  “Kids?”

  This time Cooper got tongue-tied, so it was left to Rusty to say “No,” hoping that that answer was satisfactory to her “husband.” She planned on asking him later why he had lied, but for now she would play along. His wariness was out of proportion, she thought; but she would still rather ally herself with him than with the Gawrylows.

  Cooper finished eating and set his plate and cup aside. He glanced around the cabin. “You don’t have a transmitter, do you? A ham radio?”

  “No.”

  “Have you heard any airplanes flying over lately?”

  “I haven’t. Reuben?” Gawrylow nudged his gawking son in the knee. The younger man dragged his eyes away from Rusty.

  “Planes?” he asked stupidly.

  “We crashed two days ago,” Cooper explained. “They’re bound to have figured that out by now. I thought there might have been search planes out looking for survivors.”

  “I haven’t heard any planes,” Reuben said abruptly and returned his unwavering attention to Rusty.

  “How can you stand to live so far away from everything?” she asked. Such self-imposed isolation dismayed her. She couldn’t imagine doing without the amenities a city had to offer, particularly by choice. Even rural living would be tolerable if one could get to a city every now and then. But to deliberately sever all contact with civilization—

  “We walk to the river and hitch a ride to Yellowknife twice a year,” Quinn told them. “Once in April and once in October. We stay for a few days, sell a few pelts, buy what supplies we’ll need, and hitch a ride back. That’s all the dealings we want with the outside world.”

  “But why?” Rusty asked.

  “I got a bellyful of towns and people. I lived in Edmonton, worked on a freight dock. One day the boss accused me of stealing.”

  “Were you?”

  Rusty was amazed at Cooper’s audacity, but the old man didn’t seem to take offense at the blunt question. He merely cackled and spat a stringy wad of tobacco juice into the fireplace.

  “It was easier to disappear than to go to court and prove my innocence,” he said evasively. “Reuben’s mother was dead. He and I just up and left. Took nothing with us but what money we had and the clothes on our backs.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Ten years. We drifted for a while, then gradually migrated here. We liked it. We stayed.” He shrugged. “We’ve never felt the urge to go back.”

  He concluded his story. Rusty had finished eating, but the Gawrylows seemed content to continue staring at Cooper and her.

  “If you’ll excuse us,” Cooper said after an awkward silence, “I’d like to check my wife’s injury.”

  Those two words, my wife’s, seemed to come easily to his lips, but they jangled with falsehood in Rusty’s ears. She wondered if the Gawrylows were convinced that they were a couple.

  Quinn carried their plates to the sink where he pumped water over them. “Reuben, do your chores.”

  The young man seemed inclined to argue, but his father shot him a baleful, challenging glance. He shuffled toward the door, pulling on his coat and cap as he went. Quinn went out onto the porch and began stacking firewood against the wall of the cabin.

  Rusty leaned close to Cooper where he knelt in front of her. “What do you think?”

  “About what?”

  “About them,” she replied with asperity.

  He raised his head. His eyes were hard. “Would you rather take them off and give Reuben an eyeful of those nothing-to-them panties you wear?”

  She opened her mouth, but discovered that she had no proper comeback, so she fell silent while he unwrapped her bandages and checked her stitched wound. It seemed to have suffered no ill effects as a result of her hike. But it was sore again. Lying to him about it was useless since she was grimacing by the time he finished rewrapping it.

  “Hurt?”

  “A little, yes,” she admitted.

  “Stay off it for the rest of the day. Either sit here or lie on the pallet I’m about to make.”

  “Pallet? What about the beds?” She glanced across the room to where two beds stood against adjacent walls. “Don’t you think they’ll offer me one?”

  He laughed. “I’m sure Reuben would love for you to join him in his. But unless you want lice, I’d advise you to stay out of it.”

  She jerked her leg back. Cooper just couldn’t be nice, could he? They were comrades because they had to be, but they were not—no, definitely not—friends.

  Chapter Five

  It seemed to take forever for bedtime to arrive. Early in the evening they shared another meal with the Gawrylows. Their discussion about the extensive hike to the Mackenzie River carried over long after they were finished eating.

  “There’s no path to follow. It’s rugged terrain, so it’s a full day’s walk,” Quinn told them.

  “We’ll leave as soon as it’s light enough.” Cooper hadn’t let Rusty out of his sight. He’d kept an eagle eye on her all afternoon. Now, as she sat in the straight-backed chair, he sat beside her on the floor, a proprietary arm draped over her thigh. “We won’t need to pack much. I don’t plan to take everything—only what’s absolutely necessary.”

  Quinn asked, “What about the woman?”

  Rusty felt Cooper’s biceps contract against her leg. “What about her?”

  “She’ll slow us down.”

  “I’ll stay here with her, Pa,” Reuben offered gallantly.

  “No.” Cooper’s response was as sharp as a jab made with a hat pin. “She goes. I don’t care how slow we have to travel.”

  “It’s all the same to us,” Quinn said with his characteristic shrug, “but I thought you were in a hurry to contact your friends and family. They must be worried about you.”

  Rusty glanced down at the top of Cooper’s head. “Cooper?” He looked up at her. “I don’t mind staying here alone. If you can cover more ground without me hobbling along, it only makes sense, doesn’t it? You could call my father as soon as you get to a telephone. He’ll send someone to pick me up. This could all be over by tomorrow night.”

  He regarded her wistful expression. She’d go along and bear up under the hardships stoically if he insisted. But it wouldn’t be easy for her to cover fifteen miles of forested ground even if she weren’t injured. Through no fault of her own, she would cause them endless delays that might necessitate making camp for a night.

  Still, he didn’t like the idea of being separated from her. No matter how feisty she was, she couldn’t effectively defend herself. In this environment she was as helpless as a butterfly. He wasn’t being sentimental, he assured himself. It was just that she had survived this long against incredible odds; he would hate for something to happen to her now that rescue was a probability instead of a pipe dream.

  His hand folded around her knee protectively. “Let’s wait and see how you feel in the morning.”

  The next several hours crawled by. Rusty didn’t know how the Gawrylows maintained their sanity. There was nothing to do, nothing to read, nothing to listen to or to look at—except each other. And when that became boring, they all stared at the sputtering kerosene lamp that put out more smelly black smoke than light.

  One would expect these hermits to ply them with a million questions about the outside world, but the Gawrylows showed a marked absence of interest in anything that was going on beyond their boundaries.

  Feeling grimy an
d unwashed, Rusty timidly asked for a bowl of water. Reuben stumbled over his own long feet while fetching it for her and slopped some of it in her lap before successfully setting it down.

  She pushed the sleeves of her sweater up to her elbows and washed her face and hands with the bar of soap Cooper had permitted her to bring along. She would have liked to savor the luxurious feeling of cupping handful after handful of water over her face, but three pairs of eyes were focused on her. When Cooper thrust one of his own T-shirts into her wet hands, she accepted it regretfully and dried her face.

  Picking up her hairbrush, she began pulling it through her hair, which was not only dirtier than it had been in her life, but also matted and tangled. She was just beginning to work all the snarls out when Cooper jerked the brush out of her hands and said bossily, “That’s enough.”

  She rounded on him, ready to protest, but his stony face stopped her. He’d been behaving strangely all day— more so than usual. She wanted to ask what the hell was wrong with him, why he was so edgy, but wisely decided that now wasn’t an opportune time for an argument.

  She did, however, show her irritation by angrily snatching her hairbrush back and repacking it in her precious bag of toiletries. They were her only reminders that somewhere in the world hot water, cream rinse, perfume, bubble bath and hand lotion were still realities.

  At last, they all settled down for the night. She slept with Cooper as she had the past two nights. Lying curled on her side, her injured leg the uppermost, she faced the fire. Beneath her was the pallet Cooper had made using the pelts they’d carried with them. He had tactfully declined to use the bedding Quinn had offered them.

  Cooper didn’t curve his body around hers as he had been doing. He lay on his back tensely, never completely relaxed, and ever watchful.

  “Stop twitching,” she whispered after about half an hour. “What’s your problem?”

  “Shut up and go to sleep.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “When we get out of here I’ll explain it to you.”

  “Explain it to me now.”

  “I shouldn’t have to. Read the signs.”

  “Does it have anything to do with why you told them we were married?”

  “It has everything to do with that.”

  She pondered that for a moment. “I’ll admit that they’re kinda spooky, the way they keep staring at us. But I’m sure they’re only curious. Besides, they’re sound asleep now.” The chorus of loud snores should have been his assurance that the Gawrylows were harmlessly asleep.

  “Right,” he said dryly, “and so should you be. Nighty-night.”

  Exasperated with him, she rolled back onto her side. Eventually she sank into a deep sleep. It was mercilessly short-lived. It seemed only minutes after her eyes closed that Cooper was nudging her awake. She groaned in protest, but remembering that today was the day her ordeal would come to an end, she sat up.

  The cabin was still in total darkness, although she could see the shadowy outlines of Cooper and the Gawrylows moving about. Quinn was at the stove brewing coffee and stirring the pot of stew. It must never run out but be continually added to, she thought, hoping that she didn’t return home with a case of ptomaine poisoning.

  Cooper knelt beside her. “How do you feel?”

  “Cold,” she replied, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. Even though she hadn’t slept in his embrace, his body heat had kept her warm throughout the night. He was better than any electric blanket she’d ever slept with.

  “I meant health-wise. How does your leg feel?”

  “Stiff, but not as sore as yesterday.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Get up and move around on it. Let’s give it a test run.” He helped her to her feet. Once she had slipped her coat on and propped herself on her crutches, they went outside so she could have some privacy; the Gawrylows’ cabin didn’t have indoor plumbing.

  When she emerged from the outhouse, the rising sun had turned the overcast sky a watery gray. That light only emphasized her wanness. Cooper could tell that the effort of leaving the cabin to go to the bathroom had taxed her. Her hard breathing created clouds of vapor around her head.

  He cursed beneath his breath. “What?” she asked him anxiously.

  “You’ll never make it, Rusty. Not in days.” Hands on hips, he expelled his frustration in a gust of ghostly white breath and said, “What the hell am I going to do with you?”

  He didn’t soften the question with any degree of tenderness or compassion. His inflection intimated that he’d far rather not be bothered with her at all.

  “Well, I’m sorry to inconvenience you further, Mr. Landry. Why don’t you bait a bear trap with me? Then you can jog all the way to that damn river.”

  He stepped forward and put his face close to hers. “Look, Pollyanna, you’re apparently too naive to see it, but there’s a lot more at stake here than just getting to the river.”

  “Not as far as I’m concerned,” she shot back. “If you sprouted wings and flew there, it couldn’t be fast enough for me. I want to get out of here, away from you, and back home where I belong.”

  His stern lip all but disappeared beneath his mustache. “All right, then.” He spun around and stamped back toward the cabin. “I’ll get there much faster without having you tagging along. You’ll stay here.”

  “Fine,” she called after him.

  Then, setting her own chin as stubbornly as his, she made her halting progress up the incline toward the cabin. The men were in the midst of an argument by the time she reached the door, which Cooper, in his haste or anger, had left ajar. Turning sideways and using her elbows, she maneuvered her way inside.

  “Be reasonable, Gawrylow,” Cooper was saying. “Reuben is twenty or so years younger than you. I want to move fast. He goes with me. You stay with my...my wife. I can’t leave her here alone.”

  “But, Pa—” Reuben whined.

  “He’s right, Reuben. You’ll move much faster than I could. If you’re lucky, you might reach the river by midafternoon.”

  The plan wasn’t to Reuben’s liking at all. He gave Rusty one last, hungry glance, then ambled out, muttering under his breath. Cooper didn’t appear much happier. He drew Rusty aside and handed her the flare gun, curtly instructing her on how to use it.

  “Think you can manage that?”

  “I’m not an idiot.”

  He seemed prone to argue, but changed his mind. “If you hear an airplane, get outside as fast as you can and fire the flare straight up.”

  “Why aren’t you taking it with you?”

  The flare gun had been within Cooper’s reach since they left the wreckage. “Because the roof of the cabin would be easier to spot than two men on foot. Keep this with you, too.” Before she knew what he was about, he pulled the waistband of her slacks away from her body and slid the sheathed skinning knife inside. The smooth leather was cold against the naked skin of her abdomen. She gasped and sucked in her breath. He smiled at her startled reaction. “That should keep you mindful of where it is at all times.”

  “Why should I be mindful of that?”

  He stared into her eyes for a long moment. “Hopefully you’ll never have to know why.”

  She returned his stare. Up until that moment, she hadn’t realized how much she hated the thought of his leaving her behind. She had put up a courageous front, but the idea of covering miles of wilderness on crutches had been overwhelming. In a way she was glad he had opted to go without her. But now that he was actually leaving, she wanted to cling to him and beg him not to.

  She didn’t, of course. He had little enough respect for her as it was. He thought she was a petted, pampered, city girl. Obviously he was right, because at that moment, she was sorely dreading the hours she would have to spend until he came back for her.

  Cooper broke the telling stare and, with an impatient curse, turned away.r />
  “Cooper!”

  He spun back around. “What?”

  “Be...be careful.”

  Within a heartbeat, she was anchored against his chest and his mouth was above hers, taking from it a scorching kiss that burned her soul. It surprised her so that she slumped against him. His arms tightened around her waist and drew her up so close and high that her toes dangled inches above his boots. She sought to regain her balance by clutching handfuls of his coat.

  His lips ground against hers. They were possessive and hard. But his tongue was soft and warm and wet. It filled her mouth, explored, stroked. A desire that had been building for forty-eight hours overcame his iron control. His self-discipline snapped, but he was still masterful. This was a no-nonsense kiss that had nothing to do with romance. It was a kiss of passion. Raw. Carnal. Selfish.

  Dizzily Rusty threw one of her arms around his neck and tilted her head back to give him deeper access, which he took. His stubbled jaw scraped her skin, but she didn’t care. His mustache was surprisingly silky. It tickled and tantalized.

  All too soon for her, he broke the kiss, pulling his head back abruptly and leaving her lips parted and damp and wanting more. “I’ll be back as soon as possible. Goodbye, honey.”

  Honey? Honey?

  He released her and turned toward the door. That’s when she noticed Quinn Gawrylow sitting at the table, mindlessly chewing his perpetual wad of tobacco and watching them with the still, silent concentration of a cougar.

  Rusty’s heart sank like lead. Cooper had kissed her for the old man’s benefit—not for his own. And certainly not for hers.

  She shot his broad back a venomous look as he went through the door. It slapped closed behind him. Good riddance, she thought. How dare he—

  Then, realizing that the old man’s eyes were still on her, she looked at him with a vapid good-little-wife smile. “Do you think he’ll be all right?”

  “Reuben knows what he’s doing. He’ll take care of Mr. Landry.” He waved down at the pallet still spread out in front of the hearth. “It’s early yet. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”