Читать книгу The Bride's Second Thought - Elizabeth August, Elizabeth August - Страница 10

Chapter Three

Ellen woke to the smell of bacon frying. Recalling that she’d not only told her host the embarrassing details of her breakup with Charles, she’d even told him about her mother’s fear of her becoming a spinster, she groaned and buried her face in the pillow. The thought of hiding out in the bedroom for a while longer appealed to her. Unfortunately hunger and the call of nature thwarted that plan. Dressing quickly, she ran a brush through her hair. The thick mass of brown tresses had a touch of natural curl and were cut into a short, easily managed style. Usually, she wet any wayward strands then blow-dried them into submission. This morning she ignored the fact that one side was flattened, while a patch of hair toward the back of the top wanted to stick out. She also opted to forgo any makeup.

Impressing her host was not at the top of her list of priorities. Getting her car unstuck and heading back to Boston was.

“Morning,” she said as she left her room and walked briskly to the bathroom.

“Morning,” Peter returned, keeping his back to her and continuing to watch the food he was preparing.

His tone was polite but cool, and Ellen had the distinct feeling that the sooner she was gone, the better he’d like it. Two minds that travel the same path, she mused, entering the bathroom.

“Hope you like pancakes,” he said when she came out a few minutes later. Without waiting for a response, he set a plate with a stack of three, along with several strips of bacon, on the table at the place she’d occupied the night before. “If you want more, help yourself. There’s more batter in the refrigerator,” he added, heading to the door. “The snow has stopped and the weather is supposed to remain clear for the next few days. I’m going to go see about your car.”

She looked at the pancakes and her mouth watered. But pride rebelled at allowing him to do all the work. “I want to come along.” Abruptly, her stomach grumbled loudly in protest.

He paused in the act of pulling on his coat. Until now, he’d purposely avoided looking at her. She’d drifted in and out of his dreams last night, each time running back to a shadowy figure named Charles. Both his conscious and his subconscious minds were warning him to stay clear of her, and he intended to do just that.

But manners refused to allow him to continue averting his gaze. Turning to her, he didn’t think he’d ever seen eyes so dark brown or a woman who looked so deliciously disheveled. He scowled impatiently at himself. Keep your mind on business, he ordered.

As Ellen headed to the rack of coats, her stomach growled loudly, protesting once again.

Getting her on her way as quickly as possible was a priority, but he didn’t want her fainting from hunger. “You eat. I need to move more wood onto the porch before I head out to your car.”

She was certain he was changing his plans to accommodate her, but she was too hungry to argue. “I won’t take long,” she promised, already retracing her steps to the table.

As she gobbled down the pancakes, she wondered if they were as good as they tasted or if she was simply so hungry anything would appeal to her. Coming to the last couple of bites, she decided that they were truly excellent. And the bacon had been perfectly prepared as well. Peter Whitley, she concluded, would make a great husband. Unexpectedly she found herself wondering what it would feel like to be in his arms. “My cooking is just fine,” she declared, telling herself that she didn’t need lights of fancy clouding her mind. She was confused enough as it was.

The sound of wood being stacked reminded her she was slowing her host’s efforts to get rid of her. Rising as she forked the last bite into her mouth, she carried her dishes to the sink, rinsed them, then again headed toward the coatrack. Halfway there she recalled the icy wind that had entered the cabin when he’d gone out and paused to make a side trip to the bedroom. There she pulled on a sweater over the turtleneck and shirt she was already wearing and a second set of socks, then hurried to join him.

Seeing her, Peter dumped the load of wood he was carrying on the pile at the end of the porch and motioned for her to follow him. “The way this snow drifts, we’ll probably have to shovel some before Jasper can even find your car,” he said, explaining why two shovels were strapped to the side of the snowmobile.

She nodded, waited for him to seat himself, then climbed aboard. As the uneven terrain forced her to hold more tightly to him, and the cold wind caused her to huddle against his back, she found herself thinking she’d never known a more sturdy man. In her mind’s eye she recalled how he’d looked without his bulky coat...the broadness of his shoulders, his fiat abdomen, the sturdy columns of his legs.

She couldn’t believe the very close-to-lecherous path her thoughts were taking. It had to be some kind of rebound reaction, she reasoned. Having wanton thoughts about an almost complete stranger wasn’t like her. The moment the machine was stopped, she released him and dismounted.

Peter drew a breath of relief. Halfway to the car, he’d begun undressing her, imagining how her soft curves would feel in his hands. Clearly he’d been without female companionship far too long, he mocked himself. Unstrapping the shovels, he focused on the business at hand.

Bane circled the vehicle then ran off into the woods pursuing his own interests while Ellen examined the drift that had built around the front and passenger side of the car. On the passenger side, it formed a snowbank that continued to a good foot above the roof of the car. As soon as Peter finished unstrapping the shovels, she took one and began to free the vehicle.

“Tom Grady keeps the drive plowed,” he said as they worked. “I’ve told him to come and clear it as far as your car to make it easier for Jasper to pull you out. But he won’t be able to get around your vehicle. He’ll have to come back to do the rest once you’re gone.”

Again she heard impatience in his voice. “I’m really sorry to be such an inconvenience,” she said tersely. “I can dig out my car on my own. Why don’t you run along and take care of whatever chores you need to take care of.”

Peter frowned. She disturbed his peace of mind, but that didn’t make it right for him to make her feel unwelcome. “I didn’t mean to sound as if you were a nuisance.” He told himself that her business was her business and to say no more, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I just hope you think twice before you take off in a snit again. Next time you might not be so lucky.” That he’d felt he had to remind her of her stupidity grated on her nerves. “I’ve learned my lesson. So could we please drop the subject?”

Hearing the hostility in her voice, he mentally kicked himself for not keeping quiet. After all, he wasn’t her keeper. “Consider it dropped.”

Ellen nodded and concentrated on freeing her car.

They had it nearly dug out when a heavy duty, four-wheel-drive police car came to a stop at the end of the drive. “Morning,” the uniformed officer called out, leaving his vehicle on the main road, its hazard lights flashing to warn any motorists of its presence, as he climbed out and made his way toward them.

“Morning,” Peter called back, setting his shovel aside and walking to meet the man.

Wanting to ask about the condition of the main road to the south, Ellen also set her shovel aside and approached the policeman. He looked to be in his late forties, she decided, and about five feet ten inches tall without his wide-brimmed hat.

“Peter Whitley?” The officer held out his hand as the two men reached each other. “I’m Rick Mack.”

“Jack has mentioned you. Says you’re an excellent tracker,” Peter said, accepting the handshake.

The office grinned. “That’s a real compliment coming from Jack.” Bane came running up at that moment, not stopping until he’d reached Rick. “Morning, Bane.” The policeman gave the wolf a friendly rub on the head. Bane accepted the greeting, then took a stance to one side as the policeman looked to Ellen. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Ellen Reese,” she said.

“Ms. Reese,” The officer touched his fingers to the rim of his hat in a polite salute.

She saw the hint of interest in his eyes and knew he was guessing that she was an intimate friend of Peter’s, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to be on her way back to Boston. But before she could ask him about the roads, he turned toward Peter.

“Jack Greenriver said we could count on your help in any rescue that might come up. There’s a plane down somewhere in these woods. A four-seater. Husband, wife, three-year-old son and one-year-old daughter on board. They took off this morning as soon as the storm had passed. The husband called in an SOS about an hour later. Transmission went dead in mid-sentence. The homing device must have been damaged in the crash because we aren’t getting any signal. If you and Bane could scout the area east and north of Jack’s cabin, I’d be grateful. We’ve got choppers flying overhead, but there’s a lot of forest to cover.”

“Count me in,” Peter replied.

Her own problems were forgotten as fear for the family in the downed plane swept through Ellen. “I’d like to volunteer, as well.”

Apparently the woman hadn’t learned her lesson about going off half-cocked, Peter thought dryly. “You don’t know these mountains. We could end up having to rescue you.”

“He’s right.” The policeman smiled politely at her. “I appreciate the offer, but it’d be best to leave this up to those who know what they’re doing.” He handed a walkie-talkie to Peter. “If you find anything, give me a call.” Having completed that bit of business, he looked toward Ellen’s vehicle. “Jasper said you’d put in a call for a wrecker.”

“Miss Reese didn’t realize how bad our weather could get up here,” Peter said in an easy drawl.

Ellen fought back another wave of hostility as the policeman gave him one of those good-ole-boy “women ain’t got no common sense when it comes to staying out of trouble” looks. “Since I can’t be of assistance here, I’ll head back to Boston as soon I can get my car onto the main road,” she said keeping her voice level.

Rick Mack’s expression became apologetic. “The roads are still in bad shape. Even four-wheel-drive vehicles are having a difficult time of it. We’re advising people to stay put for a day or so. Besides, Jasper’s helping with the search. He told me to tell you it’d be a while, tomorrow at the earliest, before he could get here.”

Hating the idea of imposing on Peter Whitley for even another minute, Ellen asked, “Is there any way I could get to a hotel or motel?”

The policeman glanced toward Peter, a frown beginning to form and suspicion entering his eyes.

“Mr. Whitley has been a perfect gentleman. And I greatly appreciate him giving me shelter for the night.” Ellen spoke up quickly, not wanting to get Peter into any trouble. “It’s just that I hate imposing on him further.”

The policeman’s expression relaxed. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to. According to the latest reports, all of the local hotels and motels are fully booked.” Obviously eager to resume the search, he again extended his hand to Peter. “Good luck. Even if any of the people in the plane survived the crash, if we don’t find them soon, they’ll freeze to death.”

“Bane and I will start looking immediately,” Peter promised accepting the parting handshake.

The officer nodded his thanks and headed back to his vehicle.

“I’ll drop you off at the cabin,” Peter told Ellen as he collected the shovels and strapped them to the snowmobile.

She knew he would think she was a hindrance but she refused to sit idly. “I’m coming with you. I know a little first aid.”

He started to insist that she remain at the cabin. He didn’t need her distracting him. But he knew if he did find survivors, he could use help. Besides, he didn’t have time to argue, and she looked determined. If he left her behind, she might set out on her own. “Fine. We’ll stop by the cabin and pick up some blankets and a medical kit.”

Turning to Bane, he pointed in the direction of the area he’d been asked to cover and said, “Search.”

Immediately the wolf took off at a loping run.

“Jack taught him that the command search means to look for people in need of help. If he finds them, he’ll come back and lead us to them. His nose is worth a dozen pairs of eyes,” Peter explained as they mounted the snowmobile. Then he started the engine, cutting off any further conversation.

A short while later, they’d gotten rid of the shovels, picked up the blankets and first aid kit and were making their way through the woods. The rough terrain and abundance of trees made the going slow. Periodically Peter stopped the snowmobile, turned off the motor, listened, called out, then listened again. When they received no response, they continued.

The winter wind was bitter, and even Ellen’s heavy clothing was not a total protection against it. Her legs felt icy and her hands were cold beneath warm covering. But she thought of the two small children, and fear for them made her forget her own discomfort.

Suddenly Bane appeared, coming at a run from the north. He yapped, saw that he had Peter’s attention, then turned to retrace his steps.

“Keep your fingers crossed he’s found them,” Peter yelled to her as he followed the wolf. “They can’t last much longer in this cold.”

“I’d cross my toes as well if I could,” she yelled back.

What seemed like forever, but was only a few minutes later, they entered a clearing. At the far end was a small plane, its wings sheared off and the body wedged between the trees.

“Looks like the major portion of the body’s intact,” Peter noted as they sped across the small clearing. “That’s a hopeful sign.”

Reaching the plane, he shut off the snowmobile and began talking into the walkie-talkie. Ellen could see how the helicopter, if it had passed over this area, could have missed spotting the wreckage. The skid path across the clearing looked like a shallow ravine. Only a very small portion of the plane’s tail would have been visible from the air and even that might be hidden by some of the higher branches, depending on the angle at which the chopper would have flown over.

Bane howled, and from inside, Ellen heard the cry of a child. Grabbing the blankets, she hurried to what was left of the cabin while Peter gave their location to the other rescuers. Opening the door, she climbed inside. The two children were still strapped into their seats by special safety harnesses. The windows had miraculously stayed intact. Still the interior of the plane was frigid and the smallest child looked blue around the lips and was slouching lifelessly.

The mother was limp against the back of her seat. A trail of blood from her head had seeped into the fabric of her heavy sheepskin coat. The father was draped over the control panel.

The oldest child looked up at her. “Help?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes, help,” she replied, fighting back the threat of tears.

Taking only enough time to cover him securely with a blanket, she turned her attention to the second child. Pressing her cheek against the little girl’s, she held her breath hoping to feel some sign of life. She was not certain if it was wishful thinking or real, but she thought she detected a tiny whimper. Lifting her head away, she looked at the small, soft-featured face. Nothing. Praying they were not too late, she freed the baby, wrapped the child in a second blanket, then opening her coat, held the little girl against herself, hoping to share her own body warmth.

Peter had entered the plane and was checking the mother. “She’s still alive,” he said, wrapping another blanket around the woman. He looked up at Ellen. “How’s the little one?”

She was again pressing her face against the child’s cheeks trying to detect any signs of life. A second tiny whimper reached her ears. “She’s alive,” she said around the lump in her throat. “But my guess is just barely.”