Two Alone (5 page)

"
My
brother." Her shudders were convulsive. She pulled one
of
the
furs around her.
I
t
hadn't rained or drizzled anymore during the night. She
c
o
u
ld
actually see flames and glowing coals beneath the sticks
he
had added to the fire. The flames were so hot they
burned
her eyeballs until they hurt.

No
impossible. That must be the fever.

L
eaving the fur covering her upper body alone, Cooper lifted the lower half of it off her leg.
Once again he painstakingly un
wrapped the bandage and stared down at the open wound. Rust
y
scared at him.

Finally he looked at her, his mouth set
i
n a bleak line.
"
I
won't try to fool
you. It's bad.
I
nfected. There's a
b
o
ttl
e of an
t
ibio
t
ics in
t
he first-aid kit. I was saving
t
hem in case this happened, but I'm not sure they'll be adequa
t
e to
t
ake care of it."

She swallowed with difficulty. Even her feverish brain could assimilate what he was telling her. Raising herself to her elbows, she looked down at her leg. She wanted to gag. On either side of the deep gash, the skin was raised and puckered with infection. Flopping back down, she drew in shallow, rapid breaths. She wet her lips, ineffectually because the fever was making her mouth drier than it had been before. "I could get gangrene and die, couldn't I?"

He forced a half smile. "Not yet. We've got to do what we can to prevent that,"

"Like cut it off?"

"God, you're morbid. What I had in mind was lancing out
th
e pus and then closing the gash with stitches."

Her face turned ashen. "That sounds morbid enough."

"Not as bad as cauterizing it. Which it might come to." Her face went as colorless as chalk. "But, for right now, let's put some st
itch
es in. Don't look relieved," he said, frowning deeply, "
I
t
’
s gonna hurt like hell."

She stared into the depths of his eyes. Strange as it was, rocky as their beginning had been, she trusted him. "Do whatever you have to do."

H
e nodded brusquely, then went to work. First he withdrew
a
pai
r of her silk long Johns from the sweater cum backpack. "I'm
gla
d
you wear silk undies." She smiled waveringly at his mild
joke
as he began to unravel the casing of the waistband.

We'll use these threads for the sutures." He nodded down the
toward
silver flask. "Better start on that brandy. Use it to
swallow
one
of
those penicillin tablets. You're not allergic to it,
are
you? Good," he said when she shook her head. "Sip the
brand
y steadily. Don't stop until you're good and drunk. But
don
'
t
drink
all of it. I'll have to sterilize the threads and bathe
the
gash with it."

She
wasn't anesthetized nearly enough when he bent over her
leg.
T
he
hunting knife, which he'd sterilized in the fire, was held
poised
in readiness over the infected wound.

"Ready?" She
no
d
d
ed. "Try to keep still." She nodded again. "And don't fight
uncon
sciousness. We'd bo
th
be better off if you passed out."

T
he first tiny puncture he made into the red, puffy skin
caused
her to cry out and yank her leg back. "No, Rusty! You've
got to
lie still."

It was an agonizing process and seemed to go on forever. He
meticu
lously lanced the areas that needed it. When he doused
th
e
w
ound with brandy, Rusty screamed. After that, the
stitches
didn't seem so bad. He used the sewing needle from the
matchbook
kit they'd brought with them. After soaking indi
vidual
threads in brandy, he drew them through her skin and
tied
th
em,
firmly pulling the edges of the
wound together.

Rusty stared at the spot where his tawny eyebrows grew t
oget
her above the bridge of his nose. His forehead was sweating pile of the cold. He never took his eyes off his work except
to occasionally glance down at her face. He was sensitive to her pain. Even sympathetic toward it. His hands were amazingly tender for a man so large, and for one who had a cold, unfeeling stone where his heart should have been.

Eventually that spot between his eyebrows began to swim in and out of focus. Although she was lying still, her head was
spinning

, reeling with pain and trauma and the anesthetizing effects of the brandy. Despite Cooper's advice, she struggled to stay awake, afraid that if she went to sleep she might never wake up. Finally, she gave up the fight and let her eyes drift closed.

Her last conscious thought was that it was a shame her father would never know how brave s
he'd been right up to the moment
of her death.

"Well," Cooper said, sitting back on his heels and wiping his perspiring forehead, "it's not pretty, but I think it will work."

He looked down at her with a satisfied and optimistic smile. But she didn't see his smile. She was unconscious.

S
he
came to, actually surprised that she was alive. At first she
thought
that darkness had fallen, but she inched her head

upward. The small mink pelt
sli
d off her head. It was still
daylight
—exactly what time was impossible to pinpoint. The sky
was
gloomily overcast.

With
a sense of dread, she waited for the pain from her leg
to
pe
net
rate her consciousness, but miraculously it didn't. Dizzy
from
th
e brandy she'd consumed, she eased herself into a
s
itting
position.
It took every ounce of strength she had left to lift the
furs
off
her leg. For one horrid moment she thought it might
not
be hurting because Cooper had amputated it after all.

But
when she moved aside the largest caribou pelt, she found
that
he
r leg was s
t
ill intact and bandaged in strips of white
cotton
.
No signs or fresh blood. She was by no means ready to
run
a marathon, but i
t
felt much better.

Sitting up had exhausted her and she fell back amid the furs, pulling them to her chin. Her skin was hot and dry, but she was chilled. She still had a fever. Maybe she should take more aspirin. But where were they? Cooper would know. He—

Where was Cooper?

H
er lethargy vanished and she sp
rang into a sitting position. Fra
n
ti
cally her eyes scanned
t
he clearing. Not
a
trace. He
was
gone. His rifle was missing, too. The other one lay on the ground within her reach. The fire still had glowing coals and was giving off heat.

But her protector had deserted her.

Forcibly tamping down hysteria, she reasoned that she was jumping to conclusions. He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't have nursed her so meticulously only to leave her stranded and helpless in the wilderness.

Would he?

Not unless he was an unfeeling bastard. Hadn't she decided that was
e
xac
t
l
y
what Cooper Landry was? No. He was hard. Tough. Cynical, certainly
b
ut not completely
la
cking in feelings. If he were, he'd have deserted her yesterday. So where was he?

He'd left a rifle behind. Why? Maybe that was the extent of his human kindness. He
’
d tended to her wound, done all he could
o
n that score. He'd provided her with the means to protect herself. M
aybe
be now it was every man for himself. Survival of the fittest.

Well, she would die. If
not of fever, then of thirst. She had no water. She had no food. She had no shelter to speak of. In
just a little
while the supply of firewood, which he'd cut and
sta
cked nearby, would be used up. She'd die of exposure if the weather turned even marginally colder.

L
ike hell she would!

S
uddenly she was furious with him for going off and leaving
her.
She'd show him; she'd show her father. Rusty Carlson was

not an
easily expendable, spineless wimp.

She
threw off
th
e covers and pulled on her ski jacket. For the
t
ime being she'd leave off her left boot because the pair of them
were
still stashed farther down in the pile of furs, too far for her
to r
each. Besides, if one foot was bare, the other might just as
well be
, too. And on top of that, putting on her coat had sapped
her
energy.

F
ood and water.

T
hose
essentials
were
necessary. That's what she had to find
fir
st.
But where? A
t
best, her surroundings were intimidating. At worst, terrifying. For three hundred and sixty degrees, all she
could
see was virgin forest. Beyond the nearby trees—some so
tall
she couldn't even see the tops of them—there stretched
end
less miles of more just like them.

Before she could go in search of water, she had to get to her
feet
.
It seemed like an impossible task, but she gritted her teeth
with
the determination to do it.

When they discovered her body, it wouldn't be hunkered under
the
pile
of
fu
rs!

Reac
hing out as far as she could, she closed her hand around
stic
k of firewood and pulled it toward her. Using it as a prop,
she came
up on her good knee, keeping the injured one straight
out in
front of her. Then she paused to catch her breath, which
was
forming clouds of white vapor in front of her face.

Repeatedly she tried to stand up, but failed. She was as weak a
s a
newborn kitten. And light-headed. Damn Cooper Landry!

No wonder he'd urged her to drink so much brandy. He'd wanted her to pass out so she wouldn't know when he
sneaked away like the miserable
skunk that he was.

Making a Herculean final effort, she put ail her weight on her left
foot
and
st
ood
up
on
it. T
he earth ti
lted precariously. Cl
osing her eyes, she clasped her supporting stick of firewood and held on for dear life. When she felt it was safe to reopen her eyes, she did—and let out a thin squeak of astonishment. Cooper was standing on the other side of the clearing,

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" he bellowed.

Dropping what he was carryin
g, including his rifle, he bore
down on her like a sorely provoked angel. Catching her under her arms, he kicked the stick of wood out from under her and lowered her back into her sickbed. He packed the covers around her shivering body

"What the hell were you trying to do?"

"F...find water," she stuttered through chattering teeth.

His muttered expletive was so vivid it was almost tangible. He laid his open hand on her forehead
t
o gauge her temperature. "You're so cold, you're
b
lue. Don'
t
try another damn stupid stunt like that again, understand? It's
my
job to find water.
Yours
is to stay put. Got that?"

Swearwords continued to pour out of him like the payoff o
f
a slot machine. He turned toward the fire and began stoking
it
, angrily throwing firewood onto
t
h
e
smoldering coals and
f
anning them to life. When the fire was blazing, he crossed the
Rearing
and picked up the limp rabbit carcass he'd dropped on the ground. He was also carrying a thermos, one of the things he'd brought with them from the wreckage. Uncapping
it.
he poured water into the lid/cup and knelt on one knee beside Rust
y
.

H
ere. I'm sure your throat is dry and sore. But don't drink
t
oo much too fast."

She cupped her hands around his and raised the cup to her pa
rch
ed lips. The water was so cold
it hurt her teeth, but she did
n
't
mind.
She
took three deep swallows before Cooper withdrew the cup.

E
asy, I said. There's plenty."

"You found a source?" She licked drops of wa
t
er off her lips. Watching that motion closely, Cooper said, "Yeah. A stream u three hundred yards that way." He indicated the direc
tion
with his head. "Must be a tributary of the Mackenzie." She looked at the lifeless carcass lying next to his boot. "Did
you
shoot the rabbit?"

Killed it with a rock. I didn't want to waste any ammo unless I had to. I'll dress it and put it on to cook. We can... Oh, hell,
what
's the matter?"
Ru
sty, much to her dismay, burst into tears. The sobs racked
her
entire body. She covered her face with he
r
hands, but even
as
dehydrated as she was, tears leaked through her fingers.

"
L
ook, it was either him or us," Cooper said with agitation. We've got to eat. You can't be so—" It
’
s not the rabbit," she blubbered.

"
T
hen what? Does your leg hurt?"

I thought you had de...deserted me. Left me behind
beca.
..cause of my leg. And maybe you should. I'm holding you
.
Y
ou probably could have wa. ..walked to safety by now if it
was
n't for me and my leg."

She hiccuped around several attempts to go on. "But my leg really doesn't make much difference because I'm a washout in situations like this anyway. I loathe the great outdoors and think it's anything but great. I hate it. Even summer camp never appealed to me. I'm cold. And scared. And guilty for complaining when I'm alive and everybody else is dead."

She dissolved into another torrent, her shoulders shaking. Cooper let out a long-suffering sigh, several florid curses, and then walked forward on his knees to take her into his arms. He pressed her shoulders between his large hands. Rusty's initial reaction was to tense up and try to pull away. But he kept his hands there and drew her against him. The promise of comfort was too much for her to resist. She slumped against his broad chest, clutching handfuls of his thick hunting coat.

The clean, fresh essence of pine clung to his clothes and hair—and that appealing, musty smell of damp leaves and fog. In Rusty's weakened, woozy state, he seemed unnaturally large, as fantastic as the hero in a children's
t
ale. Powerful. Strong. Fierce but benevolent. Able to slay any dragon.

When one of his capable hands cupped the back of her head, she burrowed her face deeper into the quilted cloth of his coat and luxuriated in the first feeling of security she'd known since the plane went down—even before that, since leaving the hunting lodge and her disappointed father.

finally the tumult passed. Her tears dried up. There was no excuse for Cooper to go on holding her, so she cased away from him. Embarrassed now, she kept her head down. He seemed reluctant to let her go, but at last his hands slid away.

"Okay now?" he asked gruffly.

"Yes, fine, thank you." She wiped her moist nose on the back
o
f her hand, as though she did that all the time.

"I'd better get that rabbit ready to cook. Lie back down." "I'm tired of lying down."

"Then turn your head. I want you to be able to eat this and I'm afraid you won't if you watch me gut it."

Carrying the rabbit to the edge of the clearing, he laid it on a
flat
rock and proceeded to dress it. Rusty wisely kept her eyes averted. "That's what we had our argument over," she said quietly.

Cooper looked at her over his shoulder. "You and who?"

"My father. He had brought down a ram." She laughed without humor. "It was a beautiful animal. I felt sorry for it, but I pretended to be ecstatic over the kill. Father hired one of the guides to field-dress it. He wanted to supervise, to make sure die guide didn't damage the hide." Blinking tears out of her eyes, she continued. "I couldn't watch.
It made me physically ill. “Fa
ther—-" she paused to draw in a deep breath "—
I t
hink
I
disgusted and disappointed him."

Cooper was cleaning his hands on a handkerchief he'd soaked
With
water from the thermos. "Because you couldn't stomach a
fiel
d-dressing?"

"Nor just that. That capped it off. I proved to be a terrible marksman, but I couldn't have shot anything if it had walked up and put its nose against the barrel of my rifle.
I
didn't like anything about that whole scene." Softly, she added almost to
he
rself, "I wasn't as good an outdoorsman as my brother Jeff."

"Did your father expect you to be?" He had skewered the
r
abbit on a green twig and was now suspending it over the coals.

"I think he was hoping I would be."

"Then he's a fool. You're not physically equipped co he a hunter."

His eyes dropped co her chest. And lingered. Hear rushed into her breasts, filling them like mother's milk, making
th
em heavy and achy. Her nipples drew tight.

The reaction startled Rusty enormously. Instinctively she wanted to cover and press her breasts back to normalcy, but he was still looking at her, so she couldn't. She didn't dare move at all. She was afraid that if she did, something terribly fragile would be broken—something that couldn't be replaced or repaired. Any reckless move would be disastrous and irrevocable. Something dreadful might happen as a result.

It was the first time he had made any sexual reference besides the vulgarities he'd spouted last night. He'd done that only to rile her. She realized that now. But this was something altogether different. This time, he was as much the victim as the perpetrator.