Wilderness Passion

by Lindsay McKenna

  Unrolling the map and pinning it down with four rocks the size of his hand, Dan called out the coordinates for each mountain. Libby took the binoculars and began to decide what environmental tests and evaluations would have to be initiated to return the forest to its original beauty when the timber had been logged. Hours fled by as they worked in unison. He told her where he would be placing the all-important logging roads and she scribbled down the environmental measures that would have to be taken. More than once he looked over her shoulder and made bitter comments. The actions she was suggesting meant spending more money than had originally been allocated, and that began to create a rift between them.

  Over a lunch of trail mix, cold spring water and carob bars, Dan pursued the argument.

  “I get the impression that you think I’m going to rape the mountains,” he growled, lying on the pine-needle carpet beneath a white fir.

  “I don’t mean to imply that, Dan,” she said. “I know you’ll take care. Doug Adams had high praise for you. And I see how much caution you take here on the trail. When we leave a site, it’s as if we’d never been there.”

  He scowled. “As it should be.”

  Libby tried to lighten his mood. “You remind me of myself when I got defensive about your attacks on city living. I think you’re overreacting to my suggestions for this logging operation. It may cost more money my way, but in the long run the environment will be restored quicker and the state guidelines will have been satisfied.”

  “The damn government and their red tape,” he muttered.

  “Something we all have to live with,” she assured him. “How do you think I feel? I’m wrestling with the federal people on five different projects right now. Sometimes the US forestry regulations are simply preposterous, and I have to gather evidence to change their minds.”

  One dark eyebrow lifted. “Oh? You mean you defend us poor loggers sometimes instead of attacking us?” he mocked.

  She met his gaze unswervingly. “It may come as a surprise, but I often end up in court, defending the company on certain issues.”

  A wry smile tugged at his mouth. “I suppose Amalgamated is going to hire a contracting company to come in and do this nitpicking impact study?”

  “Yes. It will be my responsibility to send out the bid package to the contractors.”

  He rolled over on his back, tucking his hands beneath his head. “I don’t want you to take this personally, Libby, but damn, most of these biologists and botanists go berserk with their studies. They drive me crazy with their uncanny ability to find some lousy bug and proclaim it rare. Then they tell you that because the damn bug occupies only a certain number of square miles, we have to bypass the area because we would be ruining the lousy insect’s home.” He looked up, his blue eyes stormy. “They don’t know compromise. Do you?”

  She nodded patiently. “I believe I do.”

  “Well,” he sighed, “we’re sure as hell going to find out, aren’t we?”

  Libby got up, smiling. “For better or worse, we’re on this project until its completion,” she agreed.

  He gave half a laugh, one filled with derision. “Almost as bad as being married to the wrong woman. Instead it’s a company.”

  Her heart leaped in response to his analogy. “Marriage doesn’t always end in divorce, you know.” She gave a shrug. “Not that I’m one to talk.”

  He got lightly to his feet, shrugging into his pack.

  “These days,” he groused, his tone less tense, “it’s safer to live with a woman than marry her. Divorces are a dime a dozen.”

  “You sound bitter,” she hedged, walking at his shoulder as they started down into the valley.

  Dan pursed his lips. “Maybe,” he agreed. “I’ve seen too many of my friends take the plunge and then get divorced.’’

  “You never did?” Her heart rate rose as she stole a glance up at him.

  “I did. But that was a long time ago,” he returned, his voice suddenly flat.

  Libby’s brows drew down into a slight frown. She sensed that the subject was a closed matter between them. She respected his silence, but couldn’t help being confused as well as curious.

  For the better part of the afternoon they walked down the steep slopes. Toward the foothills it became more rocky, and Libby had her first opportunity to try to properly balance the pack and her body weight on some precarious rock formations. The temperature was intense, the sunlight reflecting off the heated granite. She had tied the red bandana into a headband to stop the sweat from running down into her eyes. Her face was flushed, a sheen of perspiration making it gleam. Dan was slightly ahead of her, tossing directions over his shoulder when necessary. Looking down at her watch, she saw it was almost 3:30 p.m.

  Just as she called out to Dan to stop and take a break, Libby saw movement on a ledge only inches from her left arm. Startled by the quick, sudden movement, she froze. Just as the hissing of a rattlesnake broke the drowsy afternoon air.

  “Libby!”

  Her head snapped in Dan’s direction as the disturbed rattlesnake coiled itself, ready to strike. Everything happened in slow motion. Or so she thought at the time. Dan’s face paled as he heard the rattler and he spun around, holding out his hand to make her freeze. A startled, frightened cry lodged in her throat and automatically she leaped away from the ledge. The footing was unstable and the sudden weight shift of the pack threw her completely off balance. The gray and black rocks rushed up to meet her and at the last second she threw her hands up to protect her head.

  Something cool and wet was being dabbed against her face and Libby moaned, weakly lifting her arm. Her eyes fluttered open, momentarily blinded by the brightness of the sun sifting through leaves overhead. She felt Dan’s arm tighten around her body for a moment as she regained consciousness.

  “Just lie still,” he commanded softly.

  Libby winced as he placed the cloth against her left temple. “That hurts,” she muttered thickly. How long had she been out? She felt comfortable being supported by his lean, hard body, her head resting against his shoulder. His heart was pounding thunderously in his chest and she began to realize he was frightened or upset by what had taken place. “The snake?”

  Dan’s mouth thinned. “Dead.”

  She closed her eyes. “Good.”

  She licked her dry lips slowly, trying to remember the exact chain of events. Finally she reopened her eyes, struggling to sit up. Her pack was off and she was lying beneath the shade of a scruffy oak tree. Frowning, she realized he must have carried her off the rocky slope. She looked up as if to confirm her unspoken thought

  “How do you feel?” he asked, pouring a bit more water from his canteen onto the cloth. Again he gently dabbed at the cut on her temple, sponging away the blood

  “I...don’t know yet. Give me a second. What did I do, cut myself?” she asked, reaching up.

  Dan caught her hand. “Don’t. I’m going to put some antiseptic on it as soon as I can get the bleeding staunched. It’s just a laceration. You were damn lucky you fell back on that pack first and then rolled onto your side,” he breathed tensely. “Next time, Libby, don’t panic.”‘

  Her golden eyes darkened with pain at his reprimand. “I’m sorry....”

  “I suppose you’re going to cuss me out for killing the snake. I just upset the ecological balance up on that rock slope.”

  She winced inwardly at his cutting tone. Why was he being so damn nasty? She closed her eyes, inclining her head forward to stop the aching that radiated outward from the cut. She felt him disengage himself and suddenly felt bereft as he rose.

  “Stay here,” he ordered tersely. “I’m going back to get your pack. If you feel dizzy, lie down.”

  A minute later he was back. She sat stiffly as he cleaned her head wound and bandaged it with quick efficiency. His touch was sure and steady. She found it hard not to be affected by his closeness, his face only inches from her own when he placed the antiseptic in the wound. Libby made a face as the st
inging sensation spread out, bringing tears to her eyes. Biting her lower lip, she refused to let him see her tears, fighting them back.

  “Well, we’ve pasted you back together again. Let’s take the rest of the day off and I’ll make camp here.”

  Libby gave him a stricken look. “I can go on, Dan. Honest”

  He got to his knees, putting the medical items back inside a small watertight bag. “If you could see your face, you wouldn’t say that. You’re pale. Your pulse is jumpy, too.”

  “But I wanted to reach the valley by nightfall and start getting my soil and water samples tomorrow morning....”

  He muttered something under his breath and got to his feet “You sure as hell have a stubborn streak in you,” he said. His stern features softened somewhat as he gazed down at her. “Look, you’ve been a real trouper on this hike so far. I admire your tenacity, but I don’t admire anyone who won’t listen to what their body is telling them. You can’t tell me you don’t have a splitting headache.”

  She avoided his piercing eyes. “I do,” she admitted.

  “And you want to walk another five or six miles in this heat?” he challenged.

  “Will you teach me how you cook in the great outdoors, then?” she asked, hoping to ease the tension between them.

  A corner of his mouth lifted. “Sure. You just rest for now. Your pack has the aspirin in it. We’ll get a couple of those into you and you’ll feel like new,” he promised.

  The summer evening remained warm, although the intense heat of the day dissipated when the sun went down. The aspirin made her headache magically disappear, and Libby took renewed interest in his ability to cook delicious meals in such rugged surroundings. At his direction she stirred crushed corn flour and warm water, making it into a thick, doughy consistency. He had found some wild blackberries not far away and dropped a handful in, along with some walnuts from his pack.

  “I’ll put the dough in a pan with a little grease and set it over these coals, and in about twenty minutes we’ll have what they call pan bread.”

  She smiled, finishing the blending and handing the bowl to him. “I’m starved, as usual.”

  Dan looked up, his eyes seeming to have lost their glitter of anger. “Sure sign of recovery. Seriously, how are you feeling, Libby?”

  She colored under his concerned gaze. “Like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me,” she confessed.

  “A meal and a good night’s sleep ought to put you back into commission for tomorrow.” He frowned. “You were damn lucky you didn’t get a concussion from that fall. You scared the hell out of me.”

  “I scared the hell out of myself when I saw that snake, believe me. Next time I’ll try to be more watchful around rocky areas,” she promised fervently.

  With freeze-dried mushroom soup, the pan bread and brown rice cooked in beef bouillon, along with hot cocoa to drink, Dan made her an unforgettable meal. She wolfed down her share of the food, finally leaning back against the tree trunk, the cup of hot chocolate balanced in her hands. Sighing, she closed her eyes, feeling much better. The pleasant clank of pans and dishes was music to her ears as she sipped the steaming liquid. Closing her eyes, Libby drifted off to sleep, her head tipped back against the trunk.

  “Libby?” a voice called. “Come on, city lady, it’s time for you to go to sleep.”

  She moaned, feeling Dan’s strong fingers on her shoulder. Weariness was dragging her back into the realm of badly needed rest.

  “Lib?”

  She moved her head, mumbling something unintelligible. Arms slid around her shoulders and beneath her legs, and she felt like a feather wafting in a breeze. Vaguely aware that Dan had picked her up, she gave no real protest, relaxing against his strong, warm body. His heady male fragrance entered her nostrils as she rested her head against his shoulder. She was only half conscious as he gently tucked her in. And then his fingers caressed the top of her head in a stroking motion, and Libby gave in to the demands of her exhausted body.

  In the early morning hours her sleep turned to fragmented bits of nightmare about the rattlesnake. She had seen a snake only two times before in her life, and that was as a very young child. Snakes simply did not exist on the streets of San Francisco or at Half Moon Bay, where she often spent her weekends. Her vivid imagination carried the incident even further as the snake struck at her, his jaws open and venom dripping from his yellowish fangs when he lunged toward her bare, sunburned arm.

  Libby jerked awake, screaming. For several seconds she was disoriented, bathed in the horror of the nightmare. A small whimper escaped from her as she buried her head in her perspiring hands. Then strong, lean arms were there, encircling her, holding her protectively.

  “It’s all right,” Dan soothed huskily, stroking her hair gently, drawing her against his body.

  “Oh, Dan...” she cried.

  “You’re trembling. Shh, honey, you’re safe. It was just a bad dream,” he reassured her.

  Libby hid her face against his bare chest, unaware of the dark hair beneath her cheek. Tears squeezed from between her tightly shut eyelids as she tried to shake the vision of the rattler. Dan’s fingers kneaded her tense neck and shoulder muscles in an effort to get her to relax. Finally she stopped trembling, but she remained in his embrace, needing the security he offered.

  Libby felt her heart pounding in her breast and consciously tried to control her fear. “I—I’m sorry,” she gulped thickly.

  Dan leaned over, his fingers brushing the tears from her cheeks. “Don’t be. I would have been surprised if you hadn’t gotten at least one bad dream out of it, Libby.”

  The night was cool, as it always was in the mountains, but Dan’s body seemed to radiate heat like the sun itself. “Every time I close my eyes, all I see is that horrible snake!”

  He gave her a small squeeze. “It’s too early to get up, Libby—you’re going to have to try to get back to sleep.”

  She hated being childish about it. “I feel so stupid,” she whispered. “I kept thinking the snake was in my sleeping bag.” She shivered violently.

  “Easy, honey,” he soothed. He drew away, studying her intently. “You are frightened, aren’t you?”

  “I—I feel so foolish, Dan. I’m sorry. Like I’m falling apart inside and—” She sobbed, no longer able to hold back the tears. “I don’t mean to be a pain to work with,” she blurted out unsteadily.

  He drew her close. “Delayed reaction,” he provided grimly. “Will you be all right here by yourself for a moment?”

  Libby had wrapped her arms tightly around her drawn-up legs. “Well...yes. Why?”

  He rose and was quickly swallowed up by the pitch darkness. Confused, Libby remained still, trying to control the trembling in her body. Dan reappeared at her side and knelt, unzipping her bag and then opening it up. “Come on,” he coaxed, “lie down here beside me.”

  She gave him a startled, wide-eyed look. He managed a soft smile, pulling her down beside him. “Look, Lib, we both need our rest. I think you’ll be able to sleep if I hold you close. We’ve got a rough day ahead of us tomorrow and we can’t afford to keep each other up.” He placed his opened sleeping bag over them.

  He maneuvered a speechless Libby around so that her back was curved against his body, her head resting against his arm.

  At that point she couldn’t decide which was more disturbing, the rattler or being thrown unexpectedly into Dan’s arms. But as his breathing became regular she realized he was doing it out of practicality. And, more than anything, Dan was practical. That thought soothed her alarm and she felt her shoulders relaxing, the tension melting away.

  “Good girl,” he whispered huskily, his breath moist against her neck. “Good night, my druidess. You won’t have any more bad dreams tonight.” His other hand slipped across her T-shirted stomach, resting against her, fitting her perfectly against the frame of his body.

  She was safe, and that was all that mattered now. Like a lost kitten, she snuggled against him as exhaustion r
eclaimed her.

  5

  THE SUN WAS SHINING through the lacy fingers of the oak tree overhead when Libby stirred drowsily. The mouthwatering smell of oatmeal and coffee wafting on the cool morning air brought her to full wakefulness. Bits and pieces of the previous night’s incident began to filter into her consciousness as she struggled into a sitting position. Had it been a dream after all? Dan’s strong arms about her, holding her close? Libby turned, her lashes lifting to meet the interested gaze of the man who had held her the night before.

  “How do you feel?” he asked, his voice husky.

  Libby’s lips parted and a warming tingle went up her spine. Somewhere in the vagueness of her memory she recalled his mouth moving across her lips. Had it been a dream? Her heart fluttered wildly and she experienced a giddiness that left her breathless. Had Dan kissed her sometime during the night? She held his concerned gaze, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. There was a new tenderness in his blue eyes that morning as he watched her, and Libby found it impossible to speak.

  “You still look a little pale,” he observed, giving the oatmeal a final stir and then adding bits of dried dates to it. “Want breakfast in bed?” he asked, his mouth pulling into a teasing curve.

  Libby ran her fingers through her long, tangled blond hair. “N-no, I’ll get dressed. Give me a minute.”

  She quickly dressed and completed her toilet, hurrying back to the campfire. Dan was sitting on a rock, spooning the oatmeal into two bowls.

  “What’s your rush?” he asked.

  “I just looked at my watch and realized it was eight o’clock”

  “Relax, will you? I let you sleep late.” He handed her the bowl. “I’ve been a little rough on you and decided to ease up.”

  Libby shot him a startled look, sitting down opposite him and pouring them each a cup of coffee. “What do you mean? Haven’t I been keeping a fast enough pace for you?’’