by Sandra Clark
She was reassured of Taqaq's reliability, both by the confidence Mac showed in him and by the fact that he had shown her nothing but courtesy in all their meetings. She had remained close to the main building, busy anyhow with her preparations, but also anxious to avoid any further contact with Barron.
The track from the lake passed right in front of the house and led up to the far end of the settlement where it wound past a row of prefabricated dwellings and gradually petered out in a network of little paths among the tents and temporary shelters of those who were simply in camp to pick up supplies and renew old contacts. Once or twice Belinda had seen Barron going along this path, but she had been careful each time to keep well out of sight. Nor had she been able to discern the nature of his errand. She assumed it was something to do with the girl Ikvik, and knowing what she now did of some of the native customs she was surprised that they did not live together. She assumed that this was because the girl was already married, although she had never seen her with any other man. Fortunately Barron never seemed to visit the house, and except for the time when he had come into the stores to buy new traplines, he seemed to keep his relationship with the Macdonalds to a minimum.
Now she scanned the unchanging grey of the low-lying cloud with anxious eyes, searching for the speck in the sky which would be the means of her temporary deliverance from this place. Even a few days' respite would be welcome, she told herself. The knowledge that that hateful man was so close by was abhorrent to her. She felt oppressed by the very thought of his presence, of what he must be thinking about her, if indeed he bothered to give her a second's thought now that she had made it clear that she was unwilling to give in to him. She sighed, impatient with herself, and idly drew a figure on the misted kitchen window. She rubbed it out angrily. This waiting was really getting on her nerves. Derek had not warned her of any of this.
For the rest of the morning she forced herself to keep busy by yet again rechecking the things she had decided to take with her out to Sanderson's. There was little enough, but at least it was some form of occupation. Under Mac's guidance she had been down to the store and earmarked a dozen or so gas drums, two small stoves, a couple of grub boxes and some dehydrated provisions. Mac had suggested she also take a supply of dried caribou meat, and, unlocking his liquor store that morning, he had insisted on pressing a bottle of whisky into her hands as a bargaining counter for old Sanderson. As well as this, she had sleeping bags, one each for herself and Taqaq, and a small storm tent. 'Not that you'll be needing that,' said Mac reassuringly, 'it's only a morning's walk from the creek, but it'd be foolhardy not to be properly equipped for any emergency at this time of year.' Once again he had reassured her of Taqaq's skill at manipulating the kayak through the tricky waters of the Mackenzie tributary, and she had thrust all doubt on that score to one side when she had watched him manoeuvring about the choppy waters of the inlet as to the manner born. Mac had reassured her that there were no real rapids on that particular stretch of river and that it was merely the uneven nature of the land around Sanderson's claim that made it impractical to attempt a landing in such a place. 'Hardly worth risking lives when a short river journey and half a morning's trek inland will do the job almost as quickly,' he said. Belinda made a real effort to put her worries aside.
For the umpteenth time that morning she was checking the store of dried food, the tea, the cocoa, the dried milk and so on and, deeply engrossed as she was, it was only when Mrs Mac came bustling into the porch where the gear was temporarily stored, with her face wreathed in smiles, that Belinda noticed the unaccustomed sound of a single-engined plane approaching. With a gasp of delight she sprang to her feet and followed Mrs Mac outside.
Sure enough, bursting through the low ceiling of cloud was a small aircraft. It was Chuck's familiar Anson rapidly making a checking circuit before coming into land.
He seemed to see the women at once, for his port wing dipped, then he was pulling the plane up and heading back at speed towards the landing strip. It was all Belinda could do not to throw herself into his arms as, after the engine had finally died, the familiar figure swung down from the cockpit and came loping over the hard-packed earth towards her. His boyish face gave away more than he realised as lie came towards her and when he was within speaking distance he called out some pleasantry, cuffing her playfully on the shoulder when he got into the lee of the house.
'You don't look any different,' he told her, swinging his grip down beside him.
'Should I?' she replied with a laugh.
'It just seems a mighty long time, that's all,' he answered, shrugging his shoulders awkwardly.
He turned away quickly and made some show of going inside, shouting noisy hellos to everyone. A group of Eskimos had already come over to the main house to see him and he exchanged boisterous greeting with them, obviously pleased to meet old acquaintances, but also glad to be able to conceal his feelings on meeting up with Belinda again.
Belinda herself was eager to get away, and within an hour or so the plane had been loaded up, the kayak carried aboard, and the Macs were standing beaming on the front, having a few last-minute words with Chuck.
Taqaq was already on board, eager for a break in routine, and looking forward to seeing some relatives of his who hunted around Sanderson's claim, so he told Belinda. Chuck was just about to walk away from the Macs when Belinda happened to glance down the path to the beach, and gave an involuntary shudder. Barron, fur hood pulled up against the biting wind, was walking purposefully towards the little knot of people around the plane. Fear seemed to grip Belinda's heart irrationally when she caught sight of him, and calling out to Chuck, she began to make her way hurriedly across the landing strip. The last thing she wanted was to come face to face with Barron.
However, before she could get even half-way to the aircraft, she heard a voice call 'Belinda!'
She froze on the spot. It was the first time he had used her name. She was even surprised that he knew it. Now she steeled herself for some fresh encounter, and with an impatient toss of her head she turned to meet him.
'Yes?' she enquired peremptorily.
His eyes pierced her own and she felt a flush of colour sweep her body. The lips which had searched hers so hungrily were compressed in a tight disapproving line. 'This is crazy,' he snapped. 'I've just heard where you're going. Macdonald must be mad to let you go up there at this time of year!'
Belinda turned scornfully on her heel. 'You'll do anything to stop me meeting them, won't you? But you won't succeed. When I make up my mind to do a thing, I jolly well do it!' She looked back at him with tight lips. 'I asked you for help and you refused. That's the end as far as I'm concerned. There are plenty of people who will help and,' she added for good measure, 'without being asked either.'
She turned abruptly on her heel, glad to see that Chuck had at last said his goodbyes and was setting out across the strip. Belinda had made a couple of steps towards the Anson when she felt a hand come out and spin her round.
'I tell you it's madness,' said Barron tightly.
Belinda closed her eyes in studied impatience. 'I can't say I'm terribly interested in your opinion,' she replied. 'We've listened to the weather reports. There's nothing to stop us. It's an ideal time to go. Now will you please take your hands off me.' She paused.
Barron went on gripping her by the arm so that her eyes blazed angrily. 'You're hurting me,' she said coldly. She was relieved to feel his grip go slack. 'I wonder what's so special about these people, your so-called friends, that you have to make such a fuss about them,' she said.
'It's nothing like that,' broke in Barron impatiently. 'Go and see them. If you can find them,' he added ominously. 'They've heard all about you.'
Belinda paused. 'No doubt you've warned them off,' she threw back, tartly. 'I wouldn't put anything past you!'
Just then Chuck approached. He threw a tight-lipped glance at Barron before deliberately taking Belinda by the elbow and ushering her to the ladder leading
up into the cockpit. Barron made a move forward, then checked himself. He looked quickly back at the people standing by the building ready to wave their goodbyes, then he moved quickly in front of Chuck, barring the way with his body. He leaned nonchalantly on the ladder and gazed steadily into the pilot's face.
'Have you thought this out, Robinson?' he asked.
Chuck's reddish hair didn't bely the quickness of his temper. 'I fly where I'm chartered to fly. Now get out of my way,' he snapped fiercely, making as if to push Barron aside. The taller of the two men laughed softly. 'Don't try it kid.' As if to emphasise his contempt for the younger man, he put both his hands deep in the pockets of his parka and lolled back against the ladder as if he had all the time in the world. Chuck glowered but checked.
'What's the game? Come on, out with it!' he snarled. Belinda blurted that he was trying to prevent her from meeting the Nasaq.
'Is that true?' demanded Chuck. Barron took his time in answering. He looked up at the sky, westwards, then meaningfully back at Chuck. The boy coloured angrily. 'We've got plenty of time. These people at the weather station know a damned sight more than—' he stopped, conscious of Taqaq who had come to the door of the cockpit to see what the excitement was about. He tried a more reasonable approach. 'Look,' he said, vainly trying to take Barron by the arm and lead him off to one side. 'It's a couple of hundred miles up north. They'll be gone a few days. I don't know why there's all this fuss.'
He fell back as Barron jerked his arm violently away and angrily made as if to follow up with a punch. Belinda allowed a cry to escape her, but abruptly Barron stepped back from the ladder and started to make off across the strip in the direction of the settlement without another word. Chuck watched him go, wearing a puzzled expression which didn't change when he shot a glance at Belinda's flushed face. With a hundred questions burning behind his eyes he began to climb the ladder. At the top he turned to look down at her. 'Well?' he demanded. 'Coming with us?' Pulling herself together, Belinda climbed up and found her seat beside him.
He didn't gun the engines at once but sat for a moment, his eyes fixed moodily on some view out of the cockpit window. Then quietly, his boyish face striving to conceal the emotions that struggled there, he turned to Belinda.
'What was all that about?' he asked.
Belinda glanced briefly across the strip. Barron hadn't waited like the others. His tall figure was already striding athletically towards the prefabs. Going to see his young girl-friend, she surmised. She lowered her eyes and gave a little sigh, and her voice was apologetic when she spoke. 'It seems I've got on his wrong side. I told you, he doesn't want me to meet the Nasaq. It seems as if he'll stop at nothing to prevent it.' This seemed to suffice, for Chuck started the engine up and Belinda was thankful to find that, as at the beginning, conversation was impossible above the din.
CHAPTER SIX
By the time the plane was coming in to land on the spit at the edge of the Mackenzie tributary, Chuck's earlier subdued manner had given way to his usual boisterous good humour. He and Belinda had managed to exchange one or two words at the tops of their voices about the terrain over which they were flying, and Belinda was relieved to see that he held no jealous grudge against her. Now the plane was bucking across the landing strip and she was putting all her energy into simply holding on to her seat, despite the restraining safety harness which Chuck had insisted she fasten up before he put the plane into its approach run. When they at last got down out of the plane they walked about for a moment, stretching their legs, taking in great gulps of Arctic air, and becoming a little lightheaded with the invigorating clarity of so much oxygen. Taqaq was plainly excited to be so near to meeting his family once again and began to unload the gear from the aircraft straightaway. Together he and Chuck lifted the kayak down to the water's edge and while Chuck lashed the painter firmly to a stake on the makeshift wooden jetty, Taqaq went back to the plane and began to set about transferring the equipment from it into the canoe.
'I'll take the recording gear,' said Belinda hurriedly, clucking nervously around it as Taqaq swung the box with her cassettes, batteries, notebooks and precious recorder down on to the rocky ground. She lifted the modern lightweight equipment easily under one arm and returned to the landing place.
Chuck looked up with an easy grin. 'We always seem to be in transit,' he said. 'When are we going to have time for a good long chat?'
Belinda smiled coquettishly. 'If you will spend all your time flying around the Arctic,' she said, 'what can I do about it? I've been kicking my heels in Two Rivers for the last three weeks. You should have taken your chance then.'
'I've got some holiday leave coming up soon,' he told her, suddenly serious. 'Might you be thinking of taking a few days' rest soon yourself? You'll surely finish this job within the week?'
Belinda paused. 'I've been so taken up with the search for these people, I hadn't really thought how long it would take to get the recordings I need,' she told him. 'If they co-operate I want to spend as long as I can—maybe several weeks, living with them, travelling with them if they'll allow it, getting as much information as I can on to those cassettes.' She indicated the box containing the recording equipment. 'I can't think of days off till I've carried out my assignment.'
Seeing the brief look of disappointment in his face, she took him impulsively by the arm. 'I hope we can meet some time without the noise of that damned Anson drowning out our voices. It's giving me a sore throat.'
Chuck gave her a sudden hug. 'Look,' he said, 'take care, won't you? Don't do anything silly.' He released her slowly as Taqaq approached.
'Are you going back right now?' asked Belinda, her mouth turning down at the corners at the thought of his imminent departure.
' 'Fraid so. I'll have to leave while the light still holds,' he replied. 'I'd stay if I could.' For a moment his eyes began to calculate, then he shrugged. 'No chance, though. They'll be sending out search parties if I don't turn up on schedule. Wait till I have my own charter company. While I'm under contract like this I'm nothing but a wage slave.'
Belinda laughed. The idea of Chuck being any kind of slave was novel, and she said so.
He turned his back so that Taqaq couldn't see him. Then he bent towards her, a lock of curly reddish hair falling over his forehead. 'I'm a slave all right,' he told her. 'Just whistle and see who'll come running!'
Belinda lowered her eyes. He was a dear, sweet boy. She felt flattered that he should feel this way about her after so short an acquaintance. Any girl would be pleased by his attentions. For a moment she didn't say anything, and when she did she tried to speak lightly.
'Just tell me again,' she said. 'We've got three full days to search these people out. And on the fourth day,' she paused, 'that's when you'll touch down here to pick us up?'
'Yes,' he answered. 'Try and make it by mid-morning. You'll be travelling down river, so it'll be a pretty swift return journey. I'll land here on the spit and hang about until you show. We'll decide what to do next depending on what happens up at old Sanderson's place. If you draw a blank, it'll be back to the settlement—'
'Don't say that!' broke in Belinda impatiently. 'I won't draw a blank. I can't!'
'Well,' replied Chuck calmly, 'I'm simply crossing off the least likely possibility first.'
Belinda glanced quickly at him. She was trying to judge whether he was simply saying that to keep her happy, but he was already going on. 'Or, if you hear that they're hereabouts in the vicinity, out towards the west, say, I can take you there. I'm keeping two days after our rendezvous free and open for you to dispose of as you wish.' He grinned at her. 'I don't have to tell you I'm hoping you'll put them to mutually pleasurable use.'
'Yes, Chuck,' grinned Belinda, 'but let's keep things on a businesslike footing for a moment, shall we? What happens if I get to know something about them but can't get out to them by air? I've had a look at the map and it seems that a lot of the land over to the north and east, in fact on their possible route to t
he snowfields, is rocky and pretty unsuitable for landing a light aircraft on. So what then?'
Chuck looked troubled. 'We'll cross that bridge if and when we get to it. Mac impressed on me the importance of keeping our rendezvous in three days' time. If the Nasaq are holed up somewhere, somewhere where it's impossible for me to land, it might be on the cards to get up there by kayak, or to entice them down to Sanderson's. The last one is your best bet,' he added. 'They're used to travelling over this sort of terrain and they're equipped for it.'
'But how would I manage to get word to them that I'd like them to come down here?'
'Send Taqaq if there's no one else passing through,' replied Chuck at once, 'he'll be able to travel quickly if he's by himself, and he's a good, reliable guide.'
'Then I'll have to stay at Sanderson's alone.' Belinda wrinkled her brow.
'Maybe not quite alone,' replied Chuck. 'Let it ride. See what you find out. You're not pushed for time. As long as you're out of this place before the snows come, you can take it easy. If you can locate them and maybe even get word out that you want to see them and can travel, these few days won't be wasted. They can come down from wherever they are at present by sled when the freeze comes. They can cover thirty-odd miles a day, even eighty or so when the going's good. If that doesn't work you can always arrange another expedition when you know where you're supposed to be headed.'
'That's true,' said Belinda with a thoughtful smile. 'I suppose I'm still in too much of a hurry—desperate to meet non-existent deadlines! It's a bad habit. It's just that I want to meet them now, this moment, not in several weeks' time! I want to get the job started. I feel as if I've been marking time since I arrived out here. When I accepted the assignment I had no idea it was going to take so long simply to establish contact. I thought it was going to be like getting on a train and making sure I got off at the right stop. When Derek said they were nomadic I didn't really give a thought to what that actually meant.' She smiled ruefully. 'Things are so strange here, so different from the way they are in England. All this space,' she waved her hand around to include the many miles of uninhabited rock-strewn tundra which seemed to enclose them in a strange intimacy. 'A person could easily get lost in it, could travel for weeks without ever seeing a living soul. It's difficult to adjust to it. And it's weird too, this having no need to look at a clock from sun-up to nightfall, to let life simply take its own time.'