Battle of Wills

by Victoria Gordon

  'The radio!' he said quickly. 'Haven't you got it set up down here yet?'

  She shook her head, wondering at his panic as he shot her a scathing glance and grabbed up the heavy, battery-powered forestry radio from the floor where it had been unloaded.

  'Can't you do anything right?' he snapped, beckoning her attention as he moved dials and knobs until the hum of static had cleared.

  What are you talking about?' Seana retorted angrily, then glanced at her wristwatch, lying forgotten on the table where she had placed it when she started cleaning.

  'Afternoon sked, obviously. Damn it, woman, you're unbelievable! Don't you understand the panic you'd cause if you didn't come in as scheduled?'

  'So I forgot! Is it some kind of crime?' Seana's anger flared in direct proportion to the scorn in his eyes. 'Goodness, it must be wonderful to be a man, to always be right, to be just so perfect… you make me sick!'

  He ignored her, his ears intent on the crackling voices that issued from the radio as the afternoon schedule linked all the towers in the Grande Prairie forest in a litany of call-signs and replies.

  Strangely, it brought back fond memories to Seana, pictures from her childhood that merged with the crackling sounds in a reverie she hardly realised. Until her own call-sign came in and Ryan answered it without so much as a glance in her direction.

  Worse, he continued to ignore her as he recited a long list of requirements, things she would obviously be needing within the next week or so.

  He was outlining the need for several more propane cylinders and half a dozen lengths of six-inch stovepipe when the absolute gall of the man struck her like a blizzard wind.

  Lips thinned with anger and her face red as fire, she reached out to snatch the two-way control from his hand. Too late; even as she grabbed the microphone, Ryan had signed off, and the speed of the 'sked' had the central operator moving on to another tower.

  Seana was so angry she could almost spit, and indeed the words she managed to force out emerged like the hissing spit of an angry cat, fuelled by her embarrassment and spurred on by her impotent rage.

  'How could you do that? What possible right do you have to just… just take over like that? Can't you see what your little performance makes me look like?…'

  She was still struggling for some semblance of control, still shouting almost incoherently, when his deeper voice overrode her protests.

  'It makes you look quite pretty, actually,' he said, a mocking laugh firing her fury even higher. 'And if I'd left it to you, despite your good looks, young lady, you'd have missed the sked entirely, you wouldn't have known what you needed if you did make contact, and you'd probably have ended up trying to fix the radio with a hairpin or some such stupid thing. At least this way they know you're okay, and we won't have half the forestry service chasing around in the middle of the night looking for you.'

  'No!' she snapped. 'I'll just have all the forestry service thinking… thinking I'm already too well taken care of, which I suppose is just what you'd like, isn't it? You're not content to come up here—uninvited, I might add—and… and assault me. You have to brag about it over the radio, tell the whole world!'

  'Hey now, that's a bit harsh,' he replied calmly. 'I said no such thing, and you know it.'

  'You implied it, and you know it,' she shouted even louder. 'Why didn't you just tell them all you were staying for breakfast, and be done with it?'

  And to her astonishment, he grinned hugely. 'Because then, I hadn't been invited,' he replied. 'Now that I have… well…' The mockery was unmistakable, deliberate.

  'Oh… go to hell!'

  'Did anybody ever tell you you're a most ungrateful brat?' he replied with maddening calm. 'Keep on acting this way and I won't stay for breakfast after all.'

  Seana's reply was pre-empted by a sudden crackle from the radio, and Ryan reached out to snatch the microphone from her before she realised what was happening.

  'Negative… negative,' he snapped. 'The only thing of any real importance is drinking water, Dick, and you can bring that up tomorrow morning on the frost, or even the day after. I've got plenty, so I'll leave the lady enough to get by on.'

  The reply was so garbled by static that Seana only caught half of it, but Ryan seemed able to understand every word, a fact that did nothing to improve her temperament.

  'All right, I'll stop by on my way through,' Ryan was saying in answer. 'But I don't know how late it might be; I've still got a fair bit to do here.'

  The innuendo was unmistakable, and Seana spluttered with rage as she snatched for the microphone, this time managing to get it before the sign-off.

  'If he's not there in an hour—one hour—then please come up here and… and…' And what? Dared she shout over the entire network that she was already having man troubles? On her very first day? It would be enough, she realised, for the forestry superintendent to have her sacked before the season had even started. 'And what?' Ryan was looking at her, amusement lighting his eyes. Then they shifted and she followed his glance to see how he'd shifted the radio off channel. So her half-said remark hadn't been heard after all!

  Flinging herself to her feet, she was already halfway out the door when Ryan replaced the dial and said, 'Sorry, Dick, I must have knocked the silly thing off the channel for a moment. Do you copy all right now?'

  Seana didn't hear the reply; she was running as fast as she could down the trail to the spring, all too aware of only the frustration tears that streamed down her sooty cheeks.

  And there she stayed for nearly half an hour, hoping against hope that by the time she returned, Ryan Stranger would be gone. But it was futile, she realised. He couldn't leave without her hearing his truck, and when the time crept past without a recognisable sound, she finally stalked back towards the cabin, her mood not one whit improved.

  Ryan greeted her return with a vague wave. 'Well, are you over your little tantrum?' he asked sarcastically.

  'No, I'm not!' Seana retorted. 'And I'm not likely to be while you're still here. Why can't you take a hint?'

  'What hint?' he retorted. 'Hints, dear child, require subtlety, which is something I fear you sadly lack— along with good manners, a sense of humour, and several other things I could name. Sometimes I really wonder why I love you at all.'

  'And don't talk like that!' she snapped. 'All right; thank you for fixing my stovepipe; thank you for getting the propane stove working; thank you for getting the radio going in time for sked; thank you for… for everything! Now will you please go?'

  'When I'm ready,' he replied softly. 'Speaking of which, it's getting on for supper time. Or am I to believe you can't cook either?'

  . Seana choked back an angry remark, then replied with as soft a voice as she could muster, 'Not really, no. I plan to live through the summer on instant soup.'

  ''Cold instant soup, I presume,' he replied. 'I think that might be safer, the way you've gotten on so far. Ah well, I've done just about everything else; I suppose I can cook our dinner as well.'

  'You'll do no such thing!'

  He looked at her, eyes half mocking, half serious.

  'And tell me, dear child… just how do you propose to stop me? If you don't eat, you'll hardly have any strength left for another little tantrum.'

  'If I didn't have to put up with you, I wouldn't need tantrums,' Seana retorted. 'You are the most infuriating person I think I've ever met!'

  'Probably, but at least you can't say I'm boring,' he replied. 'Now what say you go clean up that pretty face while I get the steaks on? Or are you going to continue making a big issue of this?'

  'I suppose you'll want to check that I've washed behind my ears, as well,' she muttered uncharitably, realising for the first time that Ryan had already cleaned up, presumably while she was sulking down by the spring. He had even, she noticed, changed into a fresh pair of trousers and a clean shirt.

  'Don't tempt me,' he replied. 'I've left you some hot, clean water on the stove. Very hot, so be warned.'


  'I'm sure I can manage,' she replied sarcastically, throwing him an angry glare over her shoulder as she walked away.

  Once inside the cabin, she found herself forced to look round and appreciate just how much he had done to really help her. The floor was now relatively clean, thanks to her own efforts, but while she had been off at the spring he had not only Cleaned himself up, but had unloaded her car and neatly stacked up the various supplies for her. The table was spotless and she found, to her amazement, that he had even strung a short clothes-line across one corner of the kitchen.

  If only, she thought, he wasn't so… so damned arrogant, so totally self-sufficient and organised. And so sure of himself! He was treating her like a child and enjoying, it seemed, every minute of it. She washed her hands after ladling some cold water into the basin on the propane stove, searched out a change of clothing, then found a corner of the cabin where she wasn't visible through the windows and quickly stripped off her filthy clothes. Washing took a long time; she hadn't realised just how thoroughly the soot could penetrate through clothing. In the end she was forced to give herself an all-over sponge bath, aware every second of the time that Ryan Stranger was only a few metres away and as likely as not to walk in on her at any moment.

  Or would he? she thought when the washing was done and she was safely dressed again. It was easier to conjecture about that than to allow her mind to focus on the pleasantness of displaying herself for his pleasure. She might not like him, but she couldn't deny the purely physical attraction of the man.

  She returned to the camper to find it redolent with the tangy aroma of garlic and other spices as two enormous steaks sizzled in a monstrous cast-iron frying pan among heaps of thin-sliced potatoes.

  Even more amazing was the bottle of red wine on the table, although the tin mugs they'd have to drink from lacked a certain flair.

  'Sorry about those,' Ryan waved from his position by the stove. 'It's a bit tricky carrying good crystal around in the truck, and I didn't want to disturb you.'

  'Well, thank you for that, anyway,' said Seana, and then added, sincerely, 'and really, thank you for everything you've done. I'm sorry I seemed unappreciative before, but…'

  'But I'm insufferable, I know,' he grinned. 'Forget it and pour the wine, if you wouldn't mind. This stuff's just about done.'

  To her surprise, the meal came off quite comfortably. As he had been at Mrs Jorgensen's the night before (and why did it seem like weeks ago, instead of less than a day?) Ryan proved himself an interesting and informative companion. Certainly, Seana thought a knowledgeable one. He had an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of wildlife and their habits and a host of amusing and interesting anecdotes to relate.

  She had imagined at first that she would never in a million years eat the huge meal he had prepared for her, but before she even realised it, her plate was empty and so was the wine bottle.

  She looked up to find Ryan staring at her, his eyes for once neither mocking nor angry, but filled with some emotion she couldn't easily identify.

  It must be the wine, she thought, or is it? He seemed friendly, gentle… not in the least arrogant or domineering. 'What are you staring at?' she asked, suddenly aware that the wine must have gone slightly to her head. He looked so… accessible, for once.

  'At you; do you mind?' And his voice was as soft as his eyes. Seana felt she could drown in those eyes.

  'No, I suppose not,' she heard herself reply. It was as if a stranger spoke with her voice. All her antagonism seemed to have flown away, and she was looking at Ryan for the first time without any preconceived barriers between them.

  She wanted to reach out, to touch him. She could! The table between them wasn't wide; his fingers were well within reach. And then it was as if he'd read her mind; his hand moved the necessary few inches and her fingers were taken in his hand, softly as if they were terribly fragile.

  'You're very lovely,' he said, the words emerging soft as butterfly wings, tantalising in their very texture. She could feel them as a tangible caress.

  But his next words destroyed the effect with the sudden impact of a thunderbolt. 'I don't suppose you'd like to get out of this job now. You'll never make it through the summer, not without some kind of disaster.'

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Seana pulled her fingers away as if they'd suddenly been scorched. But the inside of her, the tender, vulnerable part, was suddenly cold as ice.

  'Just what do you mean by that?' she asked in a voice building with tension and warning. If Ryan meant what she thought he meant, she decided, she might very well throw something at him.

  'Well, it ought to be perfectly obvious after today's fiasco,' he replied sternly, as if speaking to a wayward child. 'You're not safe to leave alone up here.'

  She wanted to reply, but the words stuck in her throat. Rising abruptly to her feet, she simply stared at him, knowing her own face was chalk-white with anger, her bosom heaving as she fought for control.

  'Thank you for the dinner,' she finally choked, then flung herself towards the camper doorway and leapt to the ground as if the devil himself was behind her.

  The swine! she thought as she raced to the cabin, stormed inside, and then barred the door behind her. The utter swine! He'd deliberately led her on, filling her with food and wine, lulling her suspicions, and all so he could try and sweet-talk her out of staying with her job.

  'I hate you!' she screamed when he hammered on the door a moment later. 'I hate you, and I never want to see you again. Go away and don't ever come back!'

  'All right,' he replied, and she couldn't help but notice the weary, end-of-patience tone in his voice. 'But I'd better leave you some water before I go. Do you want to pass the buckets out here and I'll fill them from my tank?'

  'You can take your damned drinking water and put it where it'll do you the most good!' she found herself screaming. 'And I hope you damned well drown, while you're at it!'

  Ryan tried once more to convince her, but she ignored his voice and devoted her energies to blowing up the air mattress she'd brought for the narrow wooden bunk in the cabin. To hell with him! she thought, and was glad when he finally retreated with a muttered oath she didn't quite catch.

  A moment later she heard his truck start up, and watched from the corner of her vision as he swung the vehicle around and headed off down the narrow track, his headlights playing like moonbeams ahead of him as he went.

  'And good riddance, too!' she shouted, knowing he couldn't hear. But somehow it made her feel better, although it was much, much later, when she finally got to sleep, and all she could think about in her restlessness was Ryan Stranger and his deceitful ways.

  She was in a better temper when the whisky-jacks woke her in the morning, followed a moment later by the arrival of Dick Fisher with several huge plastic rubbish bins filled with pure, clean town water. He didn't stay, pleading the need to get down again before the road softened too much, and Seana was in some ways grateful for that.

  Her temper might have improved, but far more important was her determination to prove Ryan Stranger wrong. How dared he so blithely assume her incompetent on the basis of a single incident? Well, she'd show him, if it took her all summer to do it!

  And as the spring days passed, with early summer making its presence felt more each morning, Seana gradually fell into a solid working routine, focussing all her attention on the job at hand. She checked temperatures and rainfall, followed the constant chatter of static-distorted voices on the radio and made herself totally conversant with the country for which she was responsible.

  She spent most of each day in the tower cupola, using her powerful binoculars to pick out every salient detail of the rough timber country that spread in every direction.

  And she made friends! She swapped recipes with Marie Duval at Bald Mountain Tower, far to the south, and tried—by radio and with questionable success—to teach the art of bread-making to Mike Rosichuk, her nearest tower neighbour. Mike was an ageing bachelor whose one great am
bition in life was to learn to make proper bread, but he seemed doomed to failure, always running out of something or facing some real or imagined emergency that interfered with his baking.

  In return for the lessons, however, he passed on a host of knowledge, gained through years of hunting, trapping and fire-watching in the Burnt Hills and the Grande Prairie forest.

  It was Mike's position on Saddle Hills tower that Seana combined with most often to check the exact position of any smoke sightings, taking cross-references and plotting the locations on the large forestry maps in the tower.

  And it was Mike's extensive knowledge that helped her through her first few sightings, all of which involved not forest fires, but those caused by farmers clearing land and burning their stubble and trash on the fringe landholdings to the north of the Burnt Hills. By law, the farmers were required to apply for burning permits, which allowed all forestry personnel to control not only the time of burning, but to know which fires were of known origin and control and which must be monitored for possible danger. In practice, however, too many farmers ignored the requirement, so that towermen and rangers ran a constant temperature in their attempts to keep up with the dozens of smoke sightings that occurred each morning during the spring burning season.

  It was easier for Seana because of Mike, whose knowledge helped him to pinpoint each man-made fire with uncanny accuracy and lead the rangers to the exact quarter-section being burned off.

  Seana quickly lost her initial trepidation about climbing the seemingly flimsy tower, which was capped by a small cupola that provided a three hundred and sixty-degree view of the surrounding landscape. By the end of the first week she was scampering up and down like an agile squirrel.

  The tower was a naturalist's paradise, and Seana often found her attention diverted by the native wildlife that frequented the region. She took to climbing up each morning well before dawn, giving herself a bird's eye view of the morning panorama. She saw white-tailed and mule deer on occasion, and less frequently the mighty elk, massive antlers still swathed in velvet. There were moose in plenty, although she never saw the white one and began to wonder if she had really seen him at all. Could it, she wondered, have been some ghostly hallucination?