"Before you fly into that weather ahead, you better file a new flight plan with Fairbanks. They'll need to know what part of the wilderness to search after we go down."
"We're not going down," she said.
"If you fly us into that storm, Kincaid, I can guarantee we'll go down. The wings will ice up and we won't have enough power to maintain our air speed. We'll slowly lose altitude and we'll probably crash somewhere in the Alaska Range. Maybe if we're lucky, you'll hit Mount McKinley."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she snapped.
"Immensely."
Perrie Kincaid did not accept defeat lightly. The truth be told, she couldn't remember the last time she'd thrown in the towel… except for the Saturday she had tried to fix the toilet in her apartment and it flooded the bathroom and the apartment below. A plumber had been her last resort, and she'd called one only after she'd exhausted all her other alternatives.
The dark clouds looming in front of them would more than likely put an end to her short career as a pilot. If she continued this game of one-upmanship with Joe Brennan, it might even end her life. Hell, she'd go to Donkeyleg with him. But she wouldn't let him win. She'd hop the first bus out of that freeze-dried burg and make her own way back to Seattle.
"All right, we'll do it your way," she said, taking her hands off the controls. "For now," she added beneath her breath.
He grinned, shoved his sunglasses back up, then slowly banked the plane until they were headed northeast again. "I think you'll find Muleshoe infinitely more bearable than crashing into a snow-covered mountainside. We've got a tavern, a general store, a mercantile and our own post office. And there's a spaghetti feed at the fire hall on Saturday night."
"Oh boy," Perrie muttered. "A spaghetti feed. I'll try to contain my excitement."
"Welcome to Muleshoe, Kincaid."
Joe watched Perrie peer through the frosty windshield of his Blazer, which he had parked in the middle of Main Street. She didn't have to look hard to see the town, mostly because the greater part of it lined one street.
The buildings were a ramshackle lot of faded paint and rickety porches, frosted windows and wisps of smoke curling around the chimney pipes. Front yards were cluttered with a variety of snow-covered possessions-old tires, dogsleds, snowshoes, fuel drums, rusted canoes, animal pelts-and anything else worth saving for future use. To the outsider, it might appear a bit shabby, but to Joe, it was home.
"Good grief," she muttered. "It's worse than I imagined."
Joe bit back a snide retort. Right now, he wasn't in the mood to get into another "discussion" with Perrie Kincaid, especially in defense of the place he chose to live. "The lodge is about a mile north of town."
"And where do you live?"
"I live at the lodge," he replied.
Perrie gasped. "I'm staying with you?"
"Actually, you're staying in one of our guest cabins on the property. It's a real nice little place. You'll be warm and cozy. I had Burdy McCormack supply the place with everything you'll need for your stay. If I know Burdy, he's got a fire blazing in the stove and a pot of coffee brewing. He'll be your neighbor. After the Yukon freezes, he comes in from his claim and spends the winter in the cabin next to yours. Burdy makes a run into Muleshoe every day, so if you need something from town or you need a ride in, just flip up the flag on your front porch and he'll stop."
She slowly released a long breath and rubbed her arms. "Don't bother with the cabin, Brennan. Just take me to the nearest public transportation. The bus station will do."
When was she going to give up? He swore he'd never met a more pigheaded, single-minded woman in his life. And why he found her attractive, he'd yet to figure out. "I can't do that," he replied, leaning back in his seat and fixing her with a weary look.
"You might as well." She tipped her chin up in a way that had already become familiar to him. "I'll just walk there on my own. You can't stop me from leaving."
"That would be a little tough, seeing as the nearest bus station is halfway back to Fairbanks."
Perrie closed her eyes, her jaw tightening. Here it comes, he thought to himself. She'd been itching for another go-round since their confrontation in the plane and he knew he was about to feel the sting of her tongue. But she slowly schooled her temper and forced a smile. "All right, I'll just stand here on Main Street and stick out my thumb. There's bound to be a truck that comes by headed for civilization. Unless you're going to tell me you don't have roads and trucks up here."
"Oh, we have roads. Trucks, too. But not in the winter. This is the end of the highway, Kincaid, and once you're in Muleshoe after the first big snow, you're pretty much here for the duration. Until the spring thaw, that is."
Perrie arched her eyebrow dubiously. "What about this road? Where does it go?"
"Right now, not much of anywhere. Erv runs the plow. He keeps the road dear out to the airstrip and north to just beyond the lodge. But trying to clear the snow any further is like dusting in a sandstorm. Once you're finished, a new storm just moves in and blocks the roads again."
"Do you mean to tell me that there's no way out of town?"
"Sure mere is. In my plane. But you already know I'm not real partial to that idea."
Narrowing her eyes, Perrie cursed beneath her breath. Then she grabbed the door handle and jumped out of the truck. As soon as she hit the ground, her feet slipped out from under her on the hard-packed snow. She steadied herself against the truck then began to pace. "What about food?" she said, stopping to stick her head through the open truck door.
"We bring that in by truck in the fall. Mostly canned and dried. We've got fresh meat frozen over at Kelly's meat locker. Venison, moose, caribou, salmon and a few sides of beef, as well. But if you're looking for fresh fruits and vegetables, you're pretty much out of luck. I bring in what I can, but only when I've got room in the plane."
She paced back and forth a few more times, nervous energy vibrating from her body with each step, then stopped again. "What happens when someone gets sick?"
"If it's an emergency, I fly them out. Or they send up an evac plane from the hospital in Fairbanks. And if the weather is bad, well, then your chances aren't the best. This is a hard life up here, Kincaid. You're pretty much standing on the edge of the frontier. Once you cross the Yukon River, there's not another town for at least two hundred miles."
She clenched her fists and snarled in frustration. Hell, she even looked beautiful when she was angry and about to spit nails. Color rose in her cheeks and her green eyes came alive with light, and he found himself unable to keep from staring.
"How do people get to work?" she snapped.
"Everyone works on the land. They hunt and fish. They get by."
She stopped her pacing in front of him and scrambled back into the truck. Desperation filled her gaze and she reached out and grabbed the lapels of his jacket, then yanked him close. "I have got to get out of here, Brennan. You can take me right now, or I'll start walking. Either way, I'm going back to Seattle."
He pulled off his sunglasses and leaned closer, his mouth hovering over hers, his jaw tight with anger. He could feel her warm breath as it clouded up around his face in the cold. A tiny thread of desire snaked through him and his gaze skipped to her lips. An unbidden urge to cover her mouth with his own teased at his mind. Would her lips be as soft as they looked? How would she taste? And would a kiss finally shut her up?
He gripped the steering wheel with one hand until his fingers went numb. He didn't want to kiss her. What he really wanted to do was shake her until her teeth rattled. "Damn it, Kincaid, don't be a fool. If you try to walk out of here, you'll be dead in a day. The weather can change in the blink of an eye. There's a reason the road is closed. So fools like you won't risk their necks trying to travel. You're here until I fly you out, and the sooner you get that through your stubborn head, the better."
She blinked, then frowned, drawing back slightly to look at him. Her gaze flitted over his angry expression,
her eyes wide. Finally, he thought to himself, realization. After all this wasted time bickering with her, she'd decided to listen to reason. Maybe now she'd quit fighting the inevitable. She was here to stay until Milt Freeman told him it was safe to fly her out again.
"You want to kiss me, don't you?" Her husky voice was mixed with an equal measure of surprise and smug satisfaction.
A sharp laugh burst from his throat, but it sounded hollow and forced. He shifted in his seat, but she wouldn't let go of his jacket. What the hell? Was she a mind reader as well as a major pain in the backside? Or was his desire so easy to discern?
It had been a while since he'd had a woman. In fact, he'd been afraid to admit that he was going through a bit of a slump lately. There had been plenty of possibilities, plenty of romantic dinners, but that was about it. Not prepared to risk betraying another errant impulse to her prying gaze, he turned and looked out the front windshield, slowly slipping his sunglasses back on. "You have a rather high opinion of yourself, don't you, Kincaid?"
She sighed, then released his lapels and pushed away from him impatiently. "It's no big deal. I mean, why try to hide it? You're a healthy guy, living up here in the middle of nowhere. I'm an attractive, educated woman. You can say it, Brennan. I'm certainly not a prude. I'll admit it-I find myself slightly attracted to you, as well. Inexplicable, but an attraction nonetheless."
He reached for the key and started the truck, taking a small measure of satisfaction that the attraction was reciprocated. Still, all his good sense told him that pursuing Perrie Kincaid would be a colossal mistake. The sooner he dumped her at her cabin, the sooner he'd be able to escape from those disturbing green eyes. She was far too perceptive-and outspoken-for his tastes. Even if she was the only decent-looking woman in a fifty-mile radius. "Are you always so blunt?"
"I don't consider it a failing," she said. "In my line of work, it's a necessity. I always say what's on my mind. Why waste time dancing around the issue when you can cut right to the chase? It saves a lot of time and trouble."
"Well, as long as you're here in Muleshoe, you may want to tone it down a bit. You'll make more friends if you don't go blurting out every thought that comes into your head. Especially your rather negative opinions about Muleshoe."
"I'm not planning to stick around long enough to make friends."
"Whatever you say, Kincaid," he muttered, shifting the truck into drive and punching the accelerator. The back end fishtailed until he brought it under control. "I just don't want to be putting you in Kelly's meat locker."
"You'd lock me in a meat locker to keep me here?"
"No, that's where we put our dead folks until we can fly them out to the funeral home in Fairbanks. If you're planning to try to get out on your own, you'll end up there sooner or later."
She wriggled down in her seat and shot him an uneasy look. "I'll keep that in mind, Brennan."
As they drove down Main Street, Joe pointed out the major landmarks-the general store, the tavern, the mercantile, the post office-but she showed little interest. "And that's the brides' house, right over there." He pointed to a little cabin with smoke curling out of the stone chimney. "The bachelors built it last summer when they cooked up their mail-order plan. They figured to bring the brides up in the middle of the winter to test their mettle. If they could survive the snow and cold, then they might just be worth marrying. You might want to stop by and say hello. The three of them are the greatest concentration of the female sex you're likely to see between here and Fairbanks."
"I don't think we'll have a lot in common," she said, giving the cabin no more than a cursory glance.
"You never know."
"I'm supposed to write an article about them. Milt assigned it to me before he banished me from Seattle. I can't imagine why any woman in her right mind would choose to live out here."
"It's not all that bad," he said, wondering why he even bothered to defend it to her. "Some women find it a challenge. Not everyone loves living shoulder to shoulder in a city. All the noise, the pollution… the crime. I wouldn't be surprised if you got to like it a little bit."
"I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you." She leaned her head against the window and observed the scenery in silence.
Joe carefully negotiated the curve out of town, swinging his truck wide around a snowdrift that the wind had kicked up. He sure hoped Milt Freeman knew what he was doing sending Perrie Kincaid to Muleshoe. More than a few women and a good number of men had cracked under the endless boredom and isolation of an Alaskan winter. If the snow and cold didn't get to a person, the endless nights would. Days were short and darkness came early.
He didn't want to be around when Perrie Kincaid started suffering the combined effects of cabin fever and sunshine deprivation. The sooner Milt Freeman and the Seattle police solved her problems, the better off he'd be.
The better off they'd all be.
Chapter Three
Perrie leaned back against the rough plank door and listened as Joe Brennan's footsteps crunched in the snow on the way back to his cabin. She was grateful to finally be out of range of those disturbing blue eyes of his. With a groan she let her shoulder bag slip to the floor. A few seconds later, she followed it, sliding her back against the door until she sat down with a thump. "I'm in prison," she murmured as she rubbed her sore arm. "That's what this is. Nothing but a gulag with a lovely dead-animal decor." She sighed. "And a warden cute enough to curl a girl's toes."
She glanced around the cabin at the mounted antlers scattered about the room, then silently cursed Milt Freeman and the scumbag that shot her. If it hadn't been for that one stray bullet, Milt never would have sent her to Siberia. She'd still be in Seattle, working on her story, following leads, tracking down witnesses. Instead, the only thing she had to occupy her mind was a thwarted plan to escape Muleshoe… and the possibility that Joe Brennan might kiss her.
If she had the time to spend, she might find Joe Brennan more than a little intriguing. Perhaps they might enjoy a tumble or two before she headed out of town. After all, Perrie wasn't immune to the charms of a ruggedly handsome man. She'd had a few men in her life-purely on her own terms, of course. But none of them had lasted very long once they'd realized they didn't rank high on her list of priorities.
Besides, she had already counted at least five good reasons why Joe Brennan got under her skin, five good reasons why she couldn't even consider allowing him to kiss her-or rumble her into bed. And the biggest was his refusal to return her to Seattle. How could she possibly respect a man who had no respect at all for the importance of her work?
She scrubbed at her face with her hands. Right now, she didn't want to think about Brennan. Her misguided attraction to him would only serve to distract her from her cause-getting back to Seattle. And he had vowed no assistance on mat front. "I'll find another way," she said. "There's got to be another way."
She clambered to her feet and took a slow tour around the cabin, dropping her jacket on the floor along the way. It was nice enough, kind of warm and cozy. The rough plank floors were covered with a colorful assortment of braided rag rugs, making the one large room seem as if it were actually three rooms. A fieldstone fireplace dominated the far wall; an overstuffed sofa and an antique rocker were arranged around it.
At the other end of the cabin, a pair of old iron beds and a scarred dresser served as the sleeping area. The beds were covered by pretty quilts and fluffy pillows. In the corner, a potbellied stove radiated a gentle warmth. Perrie held out her hands for a moment to warm them, men turned to survey the kitchen.
like the rest of the cabin, it was simple. An electric hot plate, a small refrigerator and knotty pine cabinets that looked as if they'd been homemade. A vase of dried flowers sat in the center of the old oak table. She sighed and rubbed her hands together, then crossed the room to brush aside the drapes of one of the cabin's three windows.
She expected to take a look at the weather. But instead, a face, lined with age and grinning a to
othless smile, stared back at her through the glass. She screamed and jumped away, her heart leaping into her throat. The man waved at her, then tapped on the glass and pointed to the door. He wore a fur hat with earflaps flopping at the sides, bouncing up and down until it looked as if he might just take off like some human gooney bird.
Who was this? Surely Muleshoe didn't boast its own Peeping Tom along with all its other civilized features, did it? Placing her hand to her chest, she waited until her pulse slowed, then walked over to the door and opened it a crack.
The face pressed up to the opening, still grinning. "Hey there! You must be the little lady from Seattle."
"I am," she said, wary. "Who are you? And why were you looking in my window?"
"Burdy McCormack's my name." He shoved his hand through the door and she reluctantly shook it before she pulled the door open. Burdy scampered inside with a bandy-legged gait. "Just thought I'd look in on you. Wasn't sure you were here yet."
A cold wind trailed after him and Perrie quickly swung the door shut. His grin faded and he scratched his whiskered chin. "Guess yer not too fond of dogs. Strike is housebroke."
She glanced between him and the door. "I'm sorry, is your dog outside?" She opened the door again and peered out, seeing nothing but snow and trees and a single track of footprints on the front steps. "I'm afraid he's not out here."
"Come on, Strike," Burdy called, waving his arm.
"Come on in out of the cold, you sorry mutt. That's a boy. Good dog."
Perrie watched as Burdy McCormack reached down and patted the space near his knee. Space that was not occupied by man nor beast-nor anything real, for that matter. She bit her bottom lip. Good grief, the poor old guy thought he had a dog with him!
Dodging Cupid's Arrow Page 4