She'd already closed her eyes again. Now she determined to keep her mouth shut as well. How could she possibly reply to such a provocative question? Certainly, she realised despite being half asleep, not by telling him the truth.
But she didn't have to open her eyes to know that he'd left his chair and come to stand beside her, and a moment later to lie beside her, still wrapped in the blanket.
His lips nuzzled her ear and he whispered to her, softly as thistle down, 'You're a fraud… do you know that?'
But he didn't really want an answer, she knew, and in moments he was breathing slowly and deeply, un-aware of how much his nearness was affecting Seana's peace of mind.
What would he do, she wondered, if she woke him now, woke him with kisses, woke him by caressing his magnificent body with her hands, her lips? Would he turn to her, give her the love she needed so very badly, or would he turn away, rejecting her? She was asleep herself before she could decide.
Two things impressed themselves upon her mind as she struggled out of sleep next morning. One was the smell of coffee, the other was the haunting, wild melody of a bull elk singing his mating, fighting challenge somewhere in the distance. The strange, eerie whistling bugle sounded unreal, like something created by a sound-effects specialist instead of a living, breathing animal.
Seana languished a moment, letting the haunting melody imprint itself in her mind, idly wishing she had a tape recorder. Then reality brought her stark upright in the bed, clutching the sleeping bag around, her nakedness as she peered around the cabin for Ryan.
But she was alone, and yet the bubbling coffee proclaimed another presence, confirming her scattered memories of the night before. Had he really slept in the same bed with her? She couldn't quite bring herself to think rationally about his necessary stripping of her body, his amazingly sensual brushing of her hair.
She looked out the window, surprised to find that it wasn't even quite dawn, although an almost imperceptible greying of the sky combined with the shriek of a whisky-jack to announce the sun's imminent arrival. Seana lay back for a moment, then scrambled out of bed, grabbing up her now-dry clothing and hurrying into it.
Looking out of the window, she saw nothing but Ryan's truck to confirm that he was still somewhere about, despite the tangible evidence of memory and coffee pot. It was at that moment she became aware of the pre-dawn silence and realised just how early it really was, for the forestry radio to be without its usual crackling comfort.
She cast her mind back to the previous evening, blushing at the memory of how Ryan had so casually and competently dealt with her own, memorably vivid, incompetence. The memories were embarrassing, yet somehow very tender and pleasant.
But where was he? Then, as if in answer, she saw a tiny figure emerge from the tower cupola and descend the ladder with startling haste.
'Well, you look a little brighter this morning,' he announced through a cheerful grin as he entered the cabin. 'Did you wake up early enough to hear that old bull elk a few minutes ago… and if you did, how come my coffee isn't poured yet?'
Seana didn't get a chance to reply. Obviously in a chipper and happy mood, he never gave her a chance. 'Big fellow, from the sound of him,' he said. 'The elk should be moving through here pretty soon on their way west, but you'll have to start getting up in the morning if you want to see them. You might get a decent look from the tower, although they'll probably avoid the clearing, especially after tomorrow. They'll either cross just down that first ridge, or over behind us in the jackpines, where the hunters can't get at them so easily.'
'Hunters…' It was half a question and half an answer, but he didn't take up the answer.
'Season opens tomorrow, don't forget, and this place will seem like a battlefield for the first few days.'
He wandered over to pour them both some coffee, one raised eyebrow chastising Seana for not having done so at his earlier suggestion, then stood fondling the cup in his hands for a moment before he said anything more. Seana watched his fingers, thinking of them in that same sensuous motion at the small of her back, and felt her pulse begin to race.
'Mrs Jorgensen will be over some time tomorrow, provided the road holds up,' he said then. 'So at least you'll have some moral support to help you through the worst of it. I wouldn't expect you to have any trouble, normally, but now they've found out about my white moose, anything's possible. I'd stay over myself, if I could, but that's… not really possible. Anyway, you'll be okay with Mother Jorgensen. Anybody crazy enough to tangle with her is likely to get a rifle barrel wrapped around his head!'
Seana chuckled at the mental picture of Mrs Jorgensen defending her against the gun-toting hordes, but Ryan's face showed no humour. He was deadly serious.
'Just remember that there's a law against people shooting anywhere near the tower, so see that you enforce it. Anybody so much as gives you any back-talk, you get on the radio and somebody'll be up to straighten them up.'
'You're really convinced I'm incompetent, aren't you?' she asked then, suddenly, unaccountably angry at being treated like a child. Forgotten was the turmoil and terror of the night before, the earlier incidents in which Ryan's help had been crucial. 'What right do you have to go arranging my life all the time?' she cried. 'Don't any of you think I can manage without a nursemaid?'
'You don't really want me to answer that,' he growled.
'Yes! Yes, I do,' she snapped in reply. 'I would remind you that I've managed quite nicely for months without any help.'
'Sure you have, apart from trying to burn down the cabin, or electrocute yourself,' he replied with a sneer. 'God knows what you get up to when I'm not around, but…'
'But nothing! That's the whole point—the only time I have problems is when you are around,' Seana raged. 'You may think I'm a walking disaster area, but let me tell you, Ryan Stranger—you're a jinx, which is even worse. And you can't convince me that this weekend will be one bit worse than the past two weeks has been. You can't imagine the hassles I've had with people wanting to climb the tower and look for our moose…'
She broke off lamely, suddenly realising what she'd said and how he might take it, but Ryan apparently didn't notice the joint reference, or ignored it.
'It'll be ten times as bad,' he scowled. 'I could kill that damn chopper pilot, with his big mouth! Every yahoo from here to Calgary will be up here tomorrow looking for that moose, and the dumb animal is too stupid to realise it. I saw him from the tower this morning, not a mile away, wandering around like he owned the country. And he stands out so damned clearly, which is what worries me. You couldn't miss him from the air…'
He broke off suddenly, and for a moment stared angrily into his coffee cup. 'Listen,' he said then, and there could be no doubt about his seriousness. 'If you see anybody… anybody flying any kind of aircraft around here, I want you on the radio immediately. Is that clear? It's against the law to spot game from the air, but somebody'll try it, sure as hell.'
Then he glanced at his wristwatch and suddenly leapt to his feet.
'Damn,' he muttered. 'I'd like to have stayed longer, ladybug, but I've got a party flying in tonight, and I'm nowhere near ready for them. If I don't get the lead out, I'll find myself out of business before the season even starts.'
It was at that instant that his seasonal profession as a big game guide became a reality to Seana, and with it the sickening suspicion that immediately found a vocal outlet.
'That's why you're so concerned about the moose!' she exclaimed, eyes wide with horror. 'You want him for yourself… or for one of your… clients. Oh, how could you?'
She thought for a moment she was going to be sick. The thought that Ryan could… would shoot the animal that she had allowed to become a symbol of her feelings for him was too much to bear. Her accusation drew from Ryan, however, a look that was first confused, then scornfully angry.
'Well, of course,' he replied. 'He's mine. He's always been mine. I've just been waiting until he was big enough to have a decent set
of antlers to match that rare white hide.'
Ryan turned and shouldered his way to the door before Seana could reply, shouting back over his shoulder: 'They're calling you on the radio.'
He was gone before she could say a word, so she answered the radio instead, officially beginning her last day of peace and quiet on White Mountain Tower.
CHAPTER SIX
'What the devil have you and Ryan been fighting about this time? He just about ran me off the road a few minutes ago, driving like a total damned fool and with a scowl on his face like I've never seen.'
It was typical of Mrs Jorgensen that she didn't bother with traditional greetings, despite having arrived a full day early, but Seana was in no mood to be polite.
'If you're going to stay here and babysit me all weekend, please have the decency not to mention that man's name again,' she snapped. 'Not today, not tomorrow, not ever!'
'All right. Shall we have coffee before I unload the car, or after?' Seana's friend replied with a knowing shake of her head.
'Oh… I'm sorry, Mrs J. It's just that… he… oh, he makes me so mad I could spit!' Seana replied. 'Come on and I'll help you with the car; then we can sit down and enjoy our coffee in peace.'
Together, they unloaded bags of fresh meat, bread and other goodies, then sat down to the coffee, still hardly cooled since Ryan's precipitate departure.
'You're not supposed to be here until tomorrow, I thought,' Seana said. 'Not that I'd believe anything that man told me anyway, but…'
'Ry… that man told you the truth as much as he knew,' Mrs Jorgensen replied. 'I was going to come up in the morning, but there's heavy rain forecast again, and I really don't think much of your road when it's wet, so I took a day off they owed me and came early. I hope you don't mind.'
'Oh, of course not. I'm just a bit shirty with… you know who, that's all.'
'Yes, I rather gathered that much,' was the dry retort. 'But from the bit I saw of him, you must have given as good as you got. Not that I expect you to tell me about it, of course…'
'Not much you don't,' chuckled Seana, her humour regaining itself in the pleasure of the older woman's company. She vividly related the events of the evening before, and while she avoided mentioning who had slept where, she couldn't very well deny that Ryan had spent the night. Even as she told the story, which became increasingly humorous, in retrospect, she didn't really know if she expected Mrs Jorgensen to be horrified, shocked, amused, or just what.
'You're a fool, and I'm sure he told you so,' the older woman raged when Seana had finished. 'I'm not surprised he was angry, hearing you tell it your way. Damn it, Seana, you've no idea how lucky you are.'
'Oh, yes, I do. And I'm sorry to have sounded flippant, because I know it wasn't funny. It was terrifying, really, and of course I was lucky.'
'You don't know how lucky. There was a fellow on Bald Mountain Tower a couple of years back who had a lightning bolt go right through the cupola, down the tower steel, smash through his generator shack and half rip the door off his outhouse. He'd have been nothing but a cinder if he'd been in the tower at the time, and as it was, he gave up being a towerman that very day.'
'I can understand why,' Seana replied. 'Even being in his cabin, it must have been a frightful thing to watch. I know how frightened I was, at least until I fainted.'
She thought at first that Mrs Jorgensen's peal of laughter was directed at herself, until she heard the words that tumbled out with it.
'Oh, he wasn't in the… the tower,' Mrs Jorgensen gasped. 'He was… in the outhouse when it happened… and he stayed there until the storm was over, too.'
Seana found herself joining in the laughter, but the joke was too close to her own experience to be that funny. Both women, nonetheless, were still chuckling when there was an imperious knock on the door.
'Where the hell's this white moose everyone's talking about?' The speaker was a small, chubby man whose voice and stance indicated that he was at least well on the way to being falling-down drunk.
Seana was aghast, considering the time of day, and she stood silent a moment, wondering what she could or should say to the man.
'Hummph! Won't tell me, eh? Well, doesn't matter. I'll just climb up and have a look for myself,' he muttered, turning away to track a weaving path towards the base of the tower.
'He'll kill himself!' Seana exclaimed, then flashed out of the door and managed to grab the man by the jacket before he could start his climb.
'You can't go up there,' she panted. 'I can't let you; it's against regulations. I'd get fired!' Her voice was coming in uneven bursts as her mind struggled to recall every possible argument against the man's stated intention.
She was prepared for argument, but not for the sudden shove he gave her, a push that forced her several steps backward and almost knocked her sprawling in the wet grass.
'I'm a taxpayer, and my paying… my taxes pay your wages, lady, so just get out of my way!' he snarled in a slurred drawl, stepping on to the first rung of the ladder. Seana stood there, speechless with impotent anger.
She watched as the man climbed two more rungs, then cried out in alarm as the shattering roar of a shotgun boomed through the clearing.
'You be down out of there in two seconds or you'll get the next one where it'll hurt the most,' Mrs Jorgensen said in a quiet, deadly voice. Seana turned to find her friend standing in a careless pose, the muzzle of a pump-action shotgun pointed casually at the base of the tower. Suddenly sober, the man was on the ground and headed for his vehicle before the time was up.
'Well, that's one less to worry about tomorrow,' Mrs Jorgensen said coolly, unloading the shotgun and leaning it handy to the cabin door. 'Now let's go and finish our coffee.' She brushed aside Seana's startled exclamations with a brittle laugh. 'When you get to my age, dear, you'll realise when it's time for action instead of talk. No big deal.'
But Seana noticed her hands were trembling, just a little, as Mrs Jorgensen stirred more sugar into her coffee with over-elaborate casualness.
As the day progressed, they had several other visitors despite the arrival of the forecast rains. Only one was welcome and both women cried out with delight at his arrival.
'You should have shot the bastard,' Ralph Beatty said when he was told, in explicit and extensive detail, about Mrs Jorgensen's exploits. 'He's just lucky neither Ryan nor I was here, or he'd be in worse shape than just having a bit of buckshot in his breeches.'
'Hardly buckshot, Ralph. You know I only keep the gun for partridges,' Mrs Jorgensen said.
'And I for one would like to change the subject,' said Seana. She couldn't very well insist that Ralph not mention Ryan, but the thought of being rescued yet again by the red-bearded bushman was not to be contemplated.
'Oh, all right,' Ralph replied grumpily. 'If you don't want to talk about anything exciting, I might as well go out to the truck and get your present, before I forget. But I'm not sure it's me who should be delivering it. I'm supposed to be able to foil the competition, not aid and abet him!'
He returned a minute later with a small plastic-covered parcel which he handed to Seana with an exaggerated flourish.
'Compliments of one Ryan Stranger, who says you're to wear it each and every time you leave this cabin, no matter what the time or reason. It will protect you, he hopes, against idiots like the one you fixed up so nicely this morning.' Then he grinned ruefully. 'Damn Ryan anyway; he always did have all the best ideas. I just wish this one had been mine.'
Inside the package was a folded plastic slicker, but a slicker of such a brilliant, eye-shattering, glaring, fluorescent blazing orange it was painful to look at.
'Does he really expect me to wear this thing?' Seana cried in half-angry disbelief. 'Heavens I can't even stand to look at it!'
'He does… and I do… and Mrs Jorgensen does,' was the deliberate, unarguable reply.
'Well, I suppose it's better than being mistaken for a moose,' said Seana in a vain attempt to lighten the atmosphere.
'It isn't funny,' Ralph told her. 'Nothing that moves is safe out there, especially at weekends. You'll wear it and like it. Understood?'
'Yes, sir. Anything you say, sir,' she replied. 'I suppose I'll have to, because of course we wouldn't want to upset Ryan Stranger, would we?'
'Not unless you want to be paddled where our would-be hunter almost got shot,' Mrs Jorgensen interjected. 'And I'd help hold you down, too, young lady. Not that Ryan would need any help, I imagine.'
'Neither would I,' Ralph put in grimly. 'And don't you forget it, Seana, or you'll definitely be sorry.'
'All right, that's enough. I promise to wear the wretched thing,' Seana sighed. 'Even if it makes me feel like a school patrol, it's better than the punishment you three would come up with!'
With that issue settled, Ralph finished his coffee and departed on his rounds, and the remainder of the day was fairly quiet. It wasn't until they sat down to their evening meal that Mrs Jorgensen's increasing nervousness really began to register, and at first Seana thought it was merely a reaction from the morning's incident. She was quite surprised, therefore, to find upon asking that her friend had something quite different worrying her.
'I've got a sort of a proposition for you,' the older woman began tentatively, 'and although I'd like an answer fairly soon, so that I can make the arrangements, I can understand why you might not want to rush into any decision.
'What I'm thinking is this; I'd like to take a trip to Denmark, where I was born, and see what few relations I still have over there. But it would mean leaving the house empty and maybe even giving up my job. Unless you'll help.'
'Well, of course, I'll do anything I can,' Seana told her. 'But I don't see…'
'I want you to take over both—house and job.'
The answer was so unexpected, so unusual, that Seana had to catch her breath. Obviously her friend had given the matter great consideration, but…
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