Читать книгу A Texas Rescue Christmas - Caro Carson - Страница 10

Chapter Four

The storm was getting worse. Becky’s time was getting shorter, her body getting colder, her lungs struggling as the air temperature dropped lower and lower. She wanted to sleep, oh, so very badly. Staying conscious in the constant, inescapable cold had worn her out in a way she’d never experienced. If only she could sink down among the oak’s roots and sleep...

She would die. When she finally closed her eyes today, they would not open again.

She wasn’t ready for that.

There was so much she hadn’t experienced. Her entire life, she’d been waiting to start living. Wrapped in her demure cashmere sweaters, standing still by her mother’s side, she’d been waiting for permission.

Waiting to meet a wonderful man. Waiting to have her own home, a permanent home, the kind that children would return to every Christmas, even when they were grown with families of their own. Waiting to live a life Becky knew existed for other people, one full of ups and downs, one she wanted to experience for herself.

Now, she was waiting for a miracle.

She curled her arms around herself a little tighter and slid down the tree trunk. She looked up at the little roof that had kept the worst of the sleet off her head and shoulders. She was afraid her meager attempt at shelter had only delayed the inevitable. Really afraid.

She couldn’t stay on her feet any longer, but she kept her eyes open, because she did not want to die yet. One little miracle, that was all she needed.

“Rebecca Cargill!”

She shuddered in misery as she imagined an angry male voice shouting her name. When the brain froze, did one suffer delusions before dying?

“Rebecca!”

Goodness, that sounded so real.

“Where are you, darlin’?”

It was a miracle. Somewhere close by, an angry man was her miracle.

Here, I’m here, she tried to call. Her jaw had been so tightly clenched against the cold, she couldn’t force the muscles to relax so she could speak.

I’m here, I’m here, don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave.

She hugged the tree trunk instead of herself. Using her arms as much as her legs, she hauled herself back to her feet.

“Rebecca. Good God.”

Before she could turn around, she was swept off her feet, wrenched away from her tree and held against a man’s chest instead. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck, not because it felt like he might drop her, but because she was so grateful he was here. But her whole body was so stiff, her arms wouldn’t obey her brain.

“Stay with me, darlin’. We’ll get you warmed up. Just stay with me.”

Did he think she’d rather stay with that tree? That tree had not cared that she was there. Now that she was not alone, she realized how very lonely she’d been. Hour after hour, she’d been the only living creature. Even the birds and insects had disappeared into their own shelters. It had been Becky and a tree. And ice.

His boots crunched over the ground as he carried her, and he seemed to take very long strides and move very quickly. It was disorienting, to suddenly be with another human being. She was no longer alone. Thank God, she was not alone.

“Okay, Rebecca? Are you with me?”

I’m trying to answer you. Give me a minute. Her jaw didn’t want to unclench, but she nodded.

He looked down at her then, and over the scarf that covered the lower half of his face, under the brim of his cowboy hat, she tried to make eye contact, but he wore wide ski goggles.

Goggles. The concept burst into her brain like they were a new invention. How convenient goggles would have been while riding in the cold wind. Every inch of his face was covered, which made him seem incredibly smart to her. And beautiful. The mere fact that he was here made him the most beautiful person on earth.

“Was that a nod,” he asked, “or just a shiver?”

She tried to smile at her beautiful rescuer, and she thought she’d succeeded in making her frozen facial muscles move, but he only looked away again, and kept walking.

He can’t see my face, either.

She hadn’t been smart enough to prepare for this weather, so she’d had to make do. She’d pulled her ski hat down low and her collar up high, but her eyes had been exposed, so a few hours ago, she’d taken the long strings of her ski cap and wrapped them across her eyes and tied them behind her head. She could see out through the slit in between them.

They’d reached an ATV, a black one, and the man set her on the seat. “Let me get you a blanket— Hey!”

She had no balance. She’d tried to grab for the handlebar, but her disobedient body hadn’t responded and she’d started to do a face plant into the ground. The man had reflexes like some kind of ninja, because he caught her. Keeping one hand on her, he tugged at some gear behind the seat and produced a blanket. It looked like a giant sheet of aluminum foil, but Becky knew it was a thermal blanket.

Despite the term “thermal,” it didn’t look warm, and when the man sat behind her on the ATV and started tucking it around her shoulders, it didn’t feel warm, either. He positioned her in his lap, moving her so that she sat sideways. He pulled her arms, one by one, over his shoulders, and she tried to hold on to his neck as she pressed her face into his icy coat.

He started the engine. “Just a few more minutes. Stay with me a little longer, Rebecca.”

I’m not going anywhere, she tried to say. It sounded more like, “Nnn...ing...anywhere,” but her rescuer chuckled and she felt the wonderful rise and fall of his chest through his coat. He tucked the top of her head under his chin and started the engine.

At the first bump, she found her arms were too weak to hold on, but he kept her from falling. With one arm wrapped tightly around her, he steered the vehicle one-handed. The metallic blanket kept some of the wind off her, but she was not warm, and it would take hours of this driving to get back to the ranch house. She wouldn’t last.

She couldn’t fight the cold any longer, but at least she would not die alone. A strange sort of contentment filled her.

I got my miracle. I was found.

Rebecca closed her eyes. Secure in her rescuer’s arms, she drifted into black oblivion.

* * *

Trey felt the woman’s arms slip, limp, from his neck.

He kept driving, keeping a sharp eye out for the landmarks that had not changed. There was an old cabin a half-mile away, built near the banks of a creek. It had been abandoned for the past hundred years, except for the ranch hands who’d found it better shelter than none when caught in a sudden rain, and the rancher’s sons who’d found it to be a handy hide-out. The creek had not moved, of course, so Trey felt absolutely certain of where he was, where everything was around him.

Thank God. If there was ever a time he couldn’t afford to get lost, now was it.

“Rebecca. Keep breathing.” He gave her a little shake. “Breathe, damn it. That’s all you gotta do, honey. Breathe.”

The cabin was situated within a trio of the largest mesquite trees Trey had come across in either Texas or Oklahoma. Someone had added a corrugated metal roof decades ago, for which Trey was grateful. It probably wouldn’t leak. The fireplace was stone, and it looked to be standing fairly straight after all these years. Trey parked the ATV under a mesquite, knowing it would still become coated in ice, but the need to care for equipment as well as one could had been ingrained in him since birth.

He held Rebecca in his arms and stepped warily onto the narrow porch. Nearly half the boards were missing, but the ones that remained held his weight as he lifted the simple wooden crossbeam and opened the door. Setting Rebecca on the floor on top of the silver blanket was like laying down a rag doll. Hypothermia could be deadly and quick. He had no time. He ran back to the ATV, grabbed everything with both arms and ran back into the cabin.

He shouted her name and ordered her to breathe as he unpacked the single sleeping bag and laid it on top of a second metallic thermal blanket. Then he started to strip. Basic survival rules required skin-to-skin contact to stay warm. There was no time to gather wood and build a fire. Traveling farther was out of the question.

He shed layers, starting at the bottom. His boots, her boots. Socks. Pants. Any cloth in direct contact with skin held moisture, so their underwear had to go, too. Modesty meant nothing when death was threatening.

The air was freezing in the cabin, but he didn’t dare slip her into the sleeping bag until every last stitch of clothing was off. If he slid her legs into the bag while her coat was still on, the coat could drip water onto the bag, and then they’d never get warm in a damp cocoon.

“C’mon, Rebecca. Wake up. Help me out.”

She responded to his voice by stirring on the silver blanket, but that looked like it was all he was going to get from her. Still, it was something. She wasn’t deeply unconscious. Maybe she was just exhausted, if he was lucky.

He took off the last of his clothing and went to work on hers. Damn it all to hell, it was cold, and he started to shiver, although he’d taken off her hat, gloves and coat in seconds. He would’ve had a hard time getting all the tiny pearl buttons of her sweater undone in any circumstances—it was a garment guaranteed to make a man think a girl was off-limits—but with the shivering and the cold and the seconds ticking by, he quit on the second button and ripped the shirt down the front.

It took two shaking hands to undo her bra clasp and toss the damp elastic to the side. Immediately, in a move that was more about speed than gentleness, he rolled her into the sleeping bag, yanked the zipper closed from her feet to her waist, then jumped in beside her and yanked the zipper shut the rest of the way. The one-man bag was designed to cover the head and left only a circle for the face. Although there were two of them sharing the circle, he pulled the opening’s drawstring, making that circle even smaller, keeping just that extra bit of cold out.

He’d just zipped his naked self in with an ice cube. He’d once had a girlfriend whose feet were always so cold, she slept in wool socks. This woman was cold like that all over. It scared him, honestly, to feel skin so cold over an entire body.

“Time to warm up,” he said, and he started moving his hands over that icy skin, trying to stimulate her circulation without damaging any skin that might have gotten frostbite.

She didn’t move. He kept at it. She would warm up, because he wouldn’t let her do otherwise. This was the most effective method possible. The cabin protected them from the worst of the weather, although the chinks in between the log walls were plentiful. They shared a sleeping bag that was undoubtedly rated for far colder conditions than this. They would survive, even without a fire.

And without their clothes. Trey hated himself for thinking about such a thing in the circumstances, but as he pulled Rebecca tightly against himself, he was quite aware that she was a woman. He’d heard a soldier in Oklahoma complain over a glass of beer about survival training with men. His instructor had required everyone to go through the hypothermia drill, the entire hypothermia drill, to force the men to overcome their aversion to sharing body heat like this.

Trey tucked Rebecca’s legs between his. She was an ice cube, but she was a smooth and feminine ice cube. Frankly, if he had to share some “full frontal” with a stranger, he couldn’t deny that a young woman was a highly preferable hypothermia partner. Still, they’d probably be embarrassed as hell about this someday—which was better than being dead.

“Come on, wake up and share this awkward moment with me. Rebecca, wake up and talk to me.”

They were on their sides, facing each other, nearly nose to nose. As he stroked up her back to the nape of her neck, he drew his head away a little bit to take a look at her face, now that it wasn’t hidden under hat and strings and collar.

His hand stopped. She was almost unnaturally beautiful. Her face was heart-shaped, framed by bangs. Her brows and long lashes were a rich brown. But the hypothermia made her skin appear to be white porcelain, and her lips were blue with cold. The effect was startling, like holding a life-sized version of the porcelain angel that his mother put on their Christmas tree.

Acting on instinct, Trey pressed his mouth to hers, keeping his eyes open, staying for a long moment to allow the heat of his mouth to warm hers. He didn’t want this beautiful woman to have blue lips.

When he felt her lips softening under his, he lifted his head and brushed her hair behind her ear. Her lips looked a little less blue in her perfect, heart-shaped face. He wondered what color her eyes were.

“Come on, sleeping beauty. It’s time to wake up. Let me see if your eyes are as beautiful as the rest of you.”

Trey closed his eyes when he kissed her this time, as though it were a real kiss.

Rebecca woke up.