Chapter 9
Vandy heard the crackling of fire. She also heard the wind outside howling. The wind was so hard it was shaking the roof of the cabin. Through the nearby window she saw snow pounding down in large flakes, pushed nearly sideways by the strong winds. Yet, she felt warmth on her face from the stone fireplace. Her body felt toasty with a heavy blanket wrapped around her. She blinked several times before closing her eyes again.
As her head began to clear, the pain began to rear its ugly head. The area of her thigh where the laceration had occurred was throbbing. The bump on her head was giving her the worst headache of her life. Her lower back was stiff and painful.
She opened her eyes again. Beside her she saw an IV bag hanging on a hook attached the wall behind the bed. She saw a clear tube. It contained clear liquid. It led to her right arm. She was receiving fluids.
Where was she?
She was laying on a full-sized bed in the small cabin. The cabin was essentially one large room, decorated sparsely but neat and orderly. She noted a nook for a kitchen and a separate bathroom. She raised her head and saw a small table with two chairs near a window. In the center of the room she saw a couch and a coffee table made from a lacquered tree truck. On the coffee table was a large piece of electronic equipment. A phone of some sort, perhaps. The floors were wooden and well maintained with a large oval throw rug covering the main traffic area.
The kitchen was small but clean, she noted. There were prints of wildlife paintings framed and placed tastefully around the cabin. In the corner near the bed, was a desk with what appeared to be a ham radio. It sat next to a laptop computer.
She saw a figure in a cowboy hat pass by the window outside moving toward the front door. The wind was kicking up so much he was having to hold his hat on his head with his hand. The owner of the cabin? The driver of the burnt orange truck? The man who saved her?
He opened the door and walked through, appearing as a shadowy figure in the doorway. He was a big man. He walked toward her; the light from the fire illuminated him.
“Holy shit!” she cried out involuntarily when she saw his face. He froze momentarily when she called out. The left side of the man’s face had been badly scarred from burns. His left eye was intact and unaffected, as was his left eyebrow. His lips had not been damaged. But his left cheek, extending back to his ear was badly scarred, as was the left side of his forehead. She remembered now that she had seen his face right before she passed out. She was instantly embarrassed that she reacted to a disfigurement in such a tasteless manner.
Even though she knew this man had saved her, she was still very wary. Why hadn’t he taken her to the hospital? Why was she here? What did he intend to do with her.
She recovered quickly, “I’m so sorry,” she said apologetically. “It’s just that you—you startled me. You’re the cowboy in the orange truck, aren’t you? You’re the one who helped me.”
“That would be me,” he said. “I’m sorry that I startled you.”
“Startled me? I damn near pissed myself,” she admitted. “You shouldn’t sneak up on a girl like that.”
“How should I walk through the door next time?” he asked.
“How long have I been out?” she asked, ignoring the remark.
“About three and a half hours, give or take,” he said.
“Three and a half hours?” she repeated.
“Give or take,” he said again. “You were almost unconscious when I found you. You passed out right away. How much do you remember?”
“Some, not much. I feel like I’ve been gang raped by a pack of rabid Grizzly Bears. What happened to me?”
“It’s sloth,” he said. “Or if you prefer, sleuth.”
“What?”
“It’s not a pack of bears, it’s a sloth of bears,” he said.
“Well thank you, Mr. Rogers,” she replied. “How about telling me where I am and why I’m here.”
He casually strolled toward the bed. Vandy instinctively drew back, again embarrassed as she did so. Her head was pounding.
“I’ll give you the short version,” he said. “Then I’ll be happy to answer any questions I can. My name is Sam Steele. You’re in my cabin. I was asked to watch over you. Just before noon, I saw four men following you in a maroon Peterbilt semi-truck. They ran you off the road, shot at you and tried to kill you. Your Jeep rolled and ran into a tree.”
“I remember… some… of that,” she said, still trying to fight off the confusion.
“Good,” he said. “You were banged up pretty good. There were cuts on multiple places on your body. The windshield exploded and really did a number on you. The wounds were mostly superficial except for the cut on your leg. It was deep and may have nicked the femoral artery. It was bleeding like a gusher. You were losing a lot of blood. Are you a bleeder?”
“Not that I know of,” she said.
“Well, you used a tourniquet,” he said. “Good thinking. That may have saved your life.”
“Please go on.”
“Once your Jeep rolled, the men tried to finish the job on foot. Why they just didn’t shoot you, I have no idea. They may have wanted to take you alive, I’m not certain.”
“They wanted me dead,” Vandy insisted.
“How do you know?”
“Gut instinct.”
He nodded as he considered what she said, and then continued.
“I approached from behind in my truck and engaged them in gunfire. I wounded two of them and they took off. I’ve never seen them before. They took off in a different direction so I’m sure we weren’t followed here. They don’t know where you are. You’re safe here for now.”
“I want to call my chief of staff, Pam,” Vandy said.
“My satellite phone was out a few moments ago,” he said. “Bad weather blocks the satellite signal, and the weather out there is the worst I’ve seen here in ten years. As you know, there is no conventional cellular service out here, so we’ll have to wait for the satellite phone to come back up. You can call whoever you want then.”
“What else happened, after I passed out?”
“The weather was very bad and has since gotten worse. The radio is saying we’re looking at a record blizzard. The high winds have made travel pretty much impossible. I have medical background and have medical supplies. I brought you here and treated you. Your vitals are stable now, that’s great news. I did manage to call the hospital before the satellite went down.”
“So, they’re sending someone, like a helicopter?”
“Yes, but it may be a while yet,” he said.
“Because of the weather?” she asked.
He nodded, “Your condition is stable. They won’t send the chopper until the storm lets up. We officially have a new record-breaking blizzard in process. I’m not sure they’d risk it even if your condition was life threatening. Fortunately, it isn’t.”
“We need to call the police,” she said.
“I did,” Sam replied. “Chief Frank Stone is a friend of mine. I told him everything I know. There’s not a lot they can do until the storm subsides. They will want to question you as soon as possible when the weather clears. I did get the license plate on the truck, but Chief Stone said they were stolen plates. This might take a while to solve. Do you know those men?”
She shook her head, no, “I’ve never seen them.”
Vandy rubbed her aching head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Most of what he was saying was ringing a bell, up to the point where he brought her here.
“This is a lot to take in.”
“I realize that,” he said.
He pulled off his coat and scarf and hung it up on a hook by the front door. He was older than she originally thought—between 45 and 50, she guessed. He had on a simple light-blue shirt with dark stripes, unbuttoned half-way to his belt and tucked into his pants. He left his tan cowboy hat on. She noticed he frequently looked down and away, allowing the hat and viewing angle to block the burn marks on his face as much as possible.
“I have a bad headache and my leg is killing me,” she said. She lifted her covers to look down at her leg. A wave of panic instantly overwhelmed her.
“Holy shit!” she screamed. “I’m stark fucking naked. Did you take off my clothes, you oversized pervert?”
“Yes, I’m sorry about that,” he said, calmly but remorsefully, ignoring the insult. “Your clothes were covered in blood and you had cuts all over you. Your clothes were soaked in blood through and through and you were totally unconscious. You were losing blood. I had to stop the bleeding, clean and dress your wounds and get an IV in…”
“I don’t see much blood on my body,” she said. “Did you… did you… wash me?”
“Around the wounds only, but yes,” he said. “I needed fresh dressings…”
“Get away from me, you twisted sack of shit. You had your filthy hands all over me. You’re disgusting. Do you get off on that? You’re an abomination!” she cried out. She pulled the blanket up to her neck.
“Did you… hurt me?” she asked in a near-whisper, now in tears.
The man sat back calmly, “No ma’am, of course not, but I can understand your concern. I swear to you I did nothing that…”
“Where are my clothes?” she demanded.
“They’re in a plastic garbage ba—.“
“Get them! Bring them to me—now!” she commanded.
“Ma’am, they’re—.”
“I said now, dammit!” she yelled. “I could have you arrested for this.”
He sighed, and shook his head.
“Okay, I’ll get them.” He slapped his thighs as he stood. He walked to the door, retrieved a dark green plastic bag and brought it to her. She sat up, making sure the blanket continued to cover her breasts. She used her arms to secure the blanket around her chest under her armpits. She jerked the bag out of his hand and opened it.
“Now back your Jolly-Green-Giant ass up away from me!” she barked.
“I will. Be careful to not yank out the IV from your arm,” he warned. He walked to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and retrieving a bottle of water.
Vandy looked at her clothes in the bag; the stark reality set in. The smell of blood was the first thing she noticed. The odor was pungent and foul, it nearly gagged her. The clothes, her pants and shirt, her coat, bra, underwear, everything, were literally soaked in blood. He was not wrong. She looked at him. Instinctively, he turned his face down and away, again hiding a clear view of his facial burns.
She felt embarrassed. She breathed a heavy sigh and rubbed her temples. She had just called the man who had risked his own life to save her an abomination. How could she be that insensitive? After seeing the blood-soaked clothing, she realized there was no way he could possibly have left her in them and still treated the lacerations on her thigh, her shoulder, her neck, stomach, chest and head.
He had saved her from certain death. He had brought her back to his cabin and treated her wounds. He had shown her nothing but kindness. She should be thanking him profusely. Instead, she was all but accusing him of rape.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, handing him back the bag. It was her turn to look down and away. “Here, take these. I don’t want to put them back on.”
“I was going to wash them,” he said, “but I had to cut them off to remove…”
“No,” she interrupted. “They’re goners.”
He nodded. He stood and handed her the bottle of water. She took the water, opened it and drank a healthy portion. He took the bag and tied it closed, leaving it on the floor by the door. He turned and walked into the kitchen, opening cabinets and removing cans from them.
“My leg really hurts,” she said. “Do you have anything for the pain?”
“I do, but we need to get some food in you or it will play havoc with your stomach.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I am a little hungry. Again, I’m sorry for my behavior. I’m not feeling myself.”
“Understandable. You’ve been through a lot, ma’am,” he said, moving about in the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m heating up chicken soup,” he said. “Do you like tea?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said.
“Good, I’ll just be a few minutes.”
She paused for a moment and looked up, watching him prepare the soup and tea. His movements were slow and deliberate. He was a mountain of a man, tall and built powerfully, far different from the petite models and actors she saw every day in California. He seemed patient and at ease.
“Hey… Sam, is it? Sam Steele?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thank you for what you did,” she said.
“Of course, ma’am.”
“And you don’t have to call me ma’am,” she replied. “My name is Vandy.”
He smiled and nodded but didn’t respond.
“The way I reacted to you—I didn’t mean it that way,” she said.
“Like I said, it’s understandable,” he replied. “After what you went through…”
“No,” she interrupted. “I mean when I screamed when I first saw your face, and then called you an… well, you know.”
He paused, instantly looking down and away again. It was very obvious to her that he was very self-conscious about his appearance. She wondered if that’s why he chose to live so isolated.
“You don’t have to apologize,” he said, finally. “I get that from time to time.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied.
“You shouldn’t be.”
“Yes, I should,” she insisted. “It was insensitive and horrible and totally unlike me. I have this habit of saying shit before I think things through. You wouldn’t believe the crap that comes out of my mouth sometimes. I didn’t mean it.”
“It happens,” he said. “I’ve heard it all before.”
“Where am I, again?” she asked.
“You’re in my cabin,” he said, softly. His voice was easy-going and calming.
“I know that much, but where is your cabin?”
“About four miles northwest of where I found you.”
That was even further away from town, she thought.
“You’ve obviously saved my life,” she said, “so please don’t take this the wrong way, but why am I here? Why couldn’t you take me to the hospital?”
“It was a judgment call. I didn’t feel I could make it in time,” he said. “The tourniquet you tied on your leg stopped the bleeding and saved your life but it was on too tight for more than thirty minutes. I had to get it off soon. Your femoral artery had probably been nicked and the wound was bleeding badly. I had to get the tourniquet off before your leg suffered permanent nerve, muscle and blood vessel damage. There were too many risks leaving it on. I had no medical supplies with me in the truck. With the severity of the wound if I had removed the tourniquet in the field, I’m not sure I could have stopped the bleeding; you may have died.”
“How far away is the nearest hospital?” she asked.
“The nearest one is in Whitefish, which is 45 minutes away on a clear day. It was probably an hour and a half in way in this weather, if I could have made it at all. There was no cell service to call an ambulance, not that it would have mattered. No ambulance could have made it out here in this weather. I thought about trying to make it to Whitefish, but if I had got stuck in the snow during the drive, you might have lost the leg or even died. My cabin was only ten minutes away. I had a judgment call to make. I did it.”
She listened carefully, and nodded at the end.
“I understand. It makes sense. You saved me,” Vandy said. “I can’t argue with the result. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied. “Okay, the soup and tea will be ready in a few minutes. I do need to do one other thing.”
He walked to the night stand and pulled a medical electronic ear thermometer from the drawer.
“You had a 102-degree temperature an hour ago,” he said. “I gave you some medicine through the IV to see if I could get that fever down. Let’s see if it worked.”
He positioned the device in her ear. She heard a beep.
“You said you had medical background, but you’re not a doctor, are you?” she asked.
“I’m a Licensed Emergency Medical Technician, an EMT, and at the moment, I’m an unemployed EMT,” he said, looking at the display on the thermometer. “99-degrees. Not bad.”
“Can I see your leg?” he asked. He could see her pull away and draw a breath. Her body stiffened with trepidation.
“I think you’ve seen enough of my snatch for one day, don’t you?” she snipped.
“We can pull the blanket over just that area and keep the rest of you covered,” he added, softly. “I need to see if the stitches are holding and whether I need to change the bandage. May I?”
“Hey, you didn’t take pictures of me naked, did you? I mean, when I was out?”
“No, of course not,” he said.
“You better not have,” she warned. “If I see any of my junk on YouTube, you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.”
“You’re kind of paranoid, aren’t you?” he noted. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
“Where I live everyone takes advantage of everyone else every chance they get,” she said. “It’s part of the Hollywood culture.”
“If that’s the case, I’d seriously consider a change of venue,” he replied.
“A girl can’t be too careful,” she replied.
“Well, none of… ‘your junk’ will be on YouTube, I promise,” he said. “Now… please?”
She paused, looking at him. Despite the bad burns on his face, he was handsome in a very rugged sort of way. She pulled the blanket away from her thigh.
“It’s not like modesty matters much anyway,” she said. “You’ll be able to tell the media that I haven’t had a Brazilian wax in more than a year.”
He pulled away the dressing. She noticed he had cleaned and stitched the wound. It still looked red and swollen.
“Oh my god,” she gasped. “That looks awful.”
“It’s a bad cut and it’s swollen,” he said. “When you get to the hospital, the doctor will likely replace these field stitches. I did my best and it will hold you until we get you there. If there is any scarring, a good plastic surgeon will be able to…”
“I didn’t mean this was your fault,” she said. “I know you were trying to help.”
“It looks worse than it is. When the swelling goes down, it won’t look nearly as bad, but make no mistake about it, it was a deep cut.”
He continued to study the laceration then looked at the bloody dressing, “I’m going to put on a fresh bandage.”
“Thank you,” she said.
He pulled his medical bag off the floor and opened it. Vandy took a peek inside it. It looked well supplied.
“You seem to have a lot of medical shit in there,” she said.
“I live alone and I’m miles from anywhere,” he said. “There aren’t many people who live up here but those who do know I’m the only EMT for miles. I get called into several emergencies a year. That’s primarily why I have the satellite phone. Everyone who lives within 10 miles has my number. Often, I’m the first responder way out here in no-man’s land. You’d be surprised; hunting accidents; skiing accidents; wildlife attacks…”
“It looks like you’re good at what you do.”
“What’s a Brazilian wax?” he interrupted.
“You don’t know what a Brazilian wax is?” she asked.
“No, that’s why I asked.”
“You know, like a bikini wax only… everywhere,” she replied, waving her hand all around her crotch area. “That’s when remove all the hair around the…”
“Ah, okay,” he said. “So… why would I tell the media something like that?”
She shrugged, “I don’t know. That’s what people do. You know, 15-seconds of fame—that kind of shit.”
“I live in the middle of nowhere,” he said. “Fame is the last thing on my mind, and I don’t know anyone in the media. Even if I did, the grooming of your lady bits would not be something I’d think to share.”
She chuckled, “Lady bits? You really are a cowboy, aren’t you?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“No, I didn’t mean that. I was just… You know what? I’m just gonna shut up.”
He chuckled softly.
Vandy studied the man now sitting close to her on the bedside. Physically, his body looked like it was sculpted out of marble into the perfect male specimen. She could not recall ever meeting a man with shoulders as broad. What she could see of his chest through the open part of his shirt revealed rock hard, well-defined pectorals. His biceps were so large they stretched the material on the arms of his shirt. His waist was slender. He had sat on the bed to her right. When he turned away she could see the right side of his profile, the unburned side. Prior to whatever caused his burns, he was unquestionably and strikingly handsome.
She wondered how he had gotten burned so badly and why his appearance could not have been restored better.
“I don’t know why it is that I’m not freaking out more right now,” she said.
“You strike me as a woman who can maintain control,” he said.
She didn’t want admit that the cowboy’s slow, patient and deliberate demeanor had a calming effect on her, but that was a factor as well, perhaps the primary factor even.
“Those men shot out my tires and made me crash,” she continued. “They were coming for me. I wonder who they were?”
“I was hoping you could tell me,” he said. “They were coming at you with very bad intentions. You must have done something to really piss them off. What can you tell me?”
“I—I don’t know them,” she replied.
“Nothing about them was familiar?” Sam asked.
“No.”
Sam sighed, “What I don’t get was why they approached on foot after you crashed. If they wanted to shoot you dead, their sharp-shooter could have picked you off in the Jeep. One bullet and the job would have been done. They could have saved themselves a lot of trouble.”
“They did shoot at me,” she offered.
“True,” Sam replied, “but that shooter is good at what he does, I can tell. He shot out your tire to stop you, not kill you. The fact that your Jeep tumbled probably surprised them as much as you.”
“Do you think they wanted to kidnap me?” she asked. “For a ransom?”
“Most likely that,” he said. “Could be something else. We just don’t know all the facts yet.”
“You live in this area. Surely if they were from here, you would have recognized them?”
“They are not local, I’m sure. Maybe they were hired. Any idea who’d want to hurt you?”
“No,” she said. “I’m a CEO of a Fortune 500 company. We have been experiencing… problems. I have investors who have lost money on my company’s stock recently. I guess it’s possible…”
“A lot of money?” he asked.
“Some, yes.”
“That could be it—seems most likely. That will be for the authorities to work out. The police will be looking for the semi-truck and the men in it, but in this storm, I don’t think there is a lot of looking going on at the moment. I gave them a description of the truck and of the men as best I saw them. I wounded two of them. They’re going to need medical attention from somewhere. With any luck they will show up at a medical facility for treatment, and that’s how the police will bag them. Hang in there. When this weather lets up the chopper will arrive and take you to Missoula. The police will meet you there. They will want to question you.”
“Missoula? Isn’t that over 100 miles away?”
“About 140 miles,” he corrected. “It has a much more fully equipped hospital than you’ll find in Whitefish. It’s what Randall Vanderbilt requested. He’ll be flying in from LAX to meet you there. He will be delayed—storm has the airport closed.”
“Uncle Randall?” Vandy asked in disbelief. “What does he have to do with this?”
When he first spoke to her, she was just waking up. She remembered he said he was asked to watch over her, but she was confused and disoriented at the time.
“You said you were asked to watch me… by…” she said. “Did my uncle…?”
“You mean don’t know?” he replied.
“No, I don’t. Do you know my uncle, Randall Vanderbilt?”
“Not directly,” he replied. “Your uncle was a Navy SEAL I take it?”
“That’s right,” she said. “How did you know that? What does that have to do with anything?”
“It turns out that Randall Vanderbilt served in the Navy with a man I know named Hank Patterson. Do you know that name?”
Vandy shook her head no.
He scrunched his face in a confused look, “Did no one tell you any of this before now?”
“No,” she said.
“I am a little surprised to be asked to watch over someone without them knowing I was doing it,” Sam said. “It actually explains a lot about your reaction to me. I’m sorry you weren’t told.”
“Just tell me what you know,” she said.
“Hank Patterson and Randall Vanderbilt served on the same SEAL team in the Navy,” Sam said. “When Hank left military service, he formed an organization known as the Brotherhood Protectors here in Montana. The association is comprised of a group of ex-military types who he calls on to help people who need protection or assistance.”
Vandy felt a wave of exasperation, “What does any of this have to do with me?” she asked.
“Your Uncle Randall was worried about you being here all alone. He called Hank and asked him to have the Brotherhood Protectors check up on you.”
“And that’s you?” Vandy asked. “You’re in the Brotherhood Protectors?”
Sam nodded, “I’m a card-carrying member, and the only one of us within 150 miles of here.”
“I thought you were an EMT?” she said.
“I became an EMT after I left the service,” he said. “The Brotherhood Protectors is a second gig, and I’m only called when needed.”
“So, you were in the service yourself? Really?” she asked. “A Navy SEAL who became an EMT?”
“Ranger,” he said.
“What?”
“I was a Ranger, not a SEAL. Your uncle and Hank Patterson were SEALS. That’s Navy. I was an Army Ranger.”
She looked at him suspiciously, trying to decide if he had lied. He smiled in acknowledgement. He understood why someone who had been what she’d been through might have trust issues.
“You’ve obviously seen my medical skills,” he said, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. He retrieved laminated credentials from it and handed them to Vandy. “This is my EMT license—it’s up to date.”
She looked at the credentials.
“Let me show you something else,” he continued. “I apologize in advance for all the burn scars.”
He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it down over his left arm. She noticed dark scarring from the burns extending down his neck, over his left shoulder and down the left side of his chest and stomach.
He pointed to a tattoo on his arm, just below the burns. It was a military tattoo, “Army Rangers,” he said. “3d Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment.”
She gave the tattoo a long look but then allowed her eyes to roam over the rest of his body. The burns had scarred an otherwise magnificent physique. She imagined that he was flat out gorgeous before whatever had caused this. Women must have flocked over him in droves at one time. She had never seen such a perfectly toned and muscled body. She felt herself staring too long and averted her eyes.
“I’d been keeping an eye on you from a distance since you got here,” he said, pulling his shirt back on.
“So, when I kept seeing your orange truck …” she began.
“That was me keeping an eye on you,” Sam said. “Maintaining stealth mode in the wide-open spaces of Montana is not the easiest task. My instructions were to keep you in my line of sight but not too close. I thought it was a little odd they didn’t want me to meet you, but I figured you being a big Hollywood celebrity, you just didn’t want to mingle with the unwashed masses, so I did what I was told and kept my distance.”
“Keep your distance? You know you damn near slammed into me the first time I saw you. Your idea of blending into the woodwork damn near caused me to piss myself.”
“Sorry,” he said, tongue-in-cheek. “Frankly, if I had not been trying to stay out of sight, I would have been closer when that whole deal went down. I might have been able to help you before things got so far out of hand.”
“Well, I’m glad you do the rest of your job better than the staying out of sight part.”
He shrugged. A small smile appeared on his face, “The town is small. It’s hard to stay out of sight.”
“Especially in a bright orange truck,” she added.
“Touché,” Sam responded. “In my defense, I don’t get a lot of Brotherhood Protector work up here.”
“How many times have you actually done this? The Brotherhood work I mean.”
“Counting this time?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He looked up bobbing his head to the left and right, as if in reflection, “That would be… one… counting you.”
“It’s a wonder I’m not dead. Dammit, I should have listened to Pam.”
Sam sighed and shook his head, “I’m beginning to feel really underappreciated here.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said, her face reddening. “I know damn well I’d be dead if it weren’t for you. It’s just that my chief of staff tried to get me to bring two body guards along and I refused. You were obviously a quick plan B from my uncle.”
She realized what she had said and closed her eyes, shaking her head, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”
“You seem to say a lot of things you don’t mean.”
“I know,” she said, embarrassed. “You’ve caught me at a really bad time. I mean with everything going on in my personal life and having it all out there for all the world to see and hear, it’s overwhelming. But to your point, I am famous world-wide for opening my big mouth and saying things I later regret. YouTube has a number of compilations to prove my point. Some of them are quite funny if you ever want a laugh at my expense.”
“Never seen a YouTube. Are you some kind of celebrity?” he asked.
“Are you serious?” she asked. “You don’t recognize me?”
He shook his head, no.
“Elaine Vanderbilt? Vandy?”
He pursed his lips and shook his head again, no. “Your uncle told me you were a hoity-toity celebrity CEO but I’m not really in tune with much of that stuff.”
“I can’t believe you don’t know all about me,” she scoffed. “In the last two weeks, I’ve been on every website and cable news program in the nation.”
“No internet, no television,” he said, shrugging. “Tell me. Who are you?”
“I am the founder and CEO of PACNY,” she said. “My husband is Cameron Boyd—the movie star.”
“What’s all those letters stand for?” he asked.
“Park Avenue Clothiers of New York,” she said.
“I thought you lived in Hollywood.”
“I do. I’m from New York originally. That’s where I started the company. I moved when I got married. My husband is an actor.”
He shrugged, “Sorry. I never heard of PAC-whatever, and I haven’t been to the movies since 2007. Hank did tell me you were a Hollywood celebrity and famous in business, but that’s about it. No offense, but I’ve never been all that impressed with celebrities. We call put our breeches on one leg at a time, right?”
Vandy formed a confused look on her face, wondering if this guy was for real.
“Whatever,” she said. “Maybe it’s best. At least one person in the world doesn’t know all the skeletons in my closet.”
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems,” he said. “After all, it’s all just talk, right?”
“I wished. So, what is you handle?”
“My what?”
“Don’t all you special ops guys have a handle? You know, like Goose or Maverick, Iceman or Viper?”
He chuckled, “I did see ‘Top Gun’,” he said. “I never had a handle, though.”
“How about ‘Cowboy?’ Seems to suit you.”
“’Cowboy’ it is, then.”
“Say, I’m hungry,” she said. “Is that soup done yet, cowboy?”
“I’m sure it is,” he replied.
“I have to pee first,” she added.
“That’s the fluids working,” he said. “You’ll need help getting to the bathroom.”
“I can make it,” she said. “I think you’ve seen enough tits and ass for one day.”
“Suit yourself. Be careful.”
“Ow… Fuck!” she cried out as she tried to move.
“I doubt you’ll be able to put pressure on that leg,” he said. “It’s going to be plenty sore. I can help you and maintain your modesty. We can keep the blanket wrapped around you.”
“You’re probably right. I sure wish I had my shopping bag from the Jeep.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“The green plastic bag from the Mercantile?” Sam asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“You’re in luck. I brought it along. It was lying near you when I found you. It’s in my truck. I didn’t look inside it.”
“Great,” she said. “Can you get it for me? I bought some thermal underwear in town before I was attacked.”
“Let me get them. You can slip them on under the covers. Here, I’ll get that IV out.”
Sam removed the IV, placing a bandage on her arm. He pulled on his coat and slipped out of the cabin. He came back and handed her the bag.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the bag.
“I’ll get our soup and tea ready while you change,” he said. “I promise I won’t look.”
“Ow!” she yelped trying to get her top on. “Son-of-a-bitch! That hurts.”
“Do you need help?” Sam asked.
She sighed heavily, “You just stay over there, cowboy. I’ll manage.”
He shrugged and went about his business in the kitchen, keeping his back to her.
It was painful getting her long johns on but she managed. Getting the pants on was even more difficult than the top because of the cut on her leg. She checked to see if Sam was looking. True to his word, he wasn’t. What a boy scout, she thought. She fully expected him to take a little peek.
Once she was dressed, she called him and he helped her stand. He was right, she thought. She could not yet put pressure on the leg. She heard him chuckle lowly.
“What are you laughing at?” she spouted, somewhat annoyed. “You find my pain to be funny?”
“No. It’s not that. It’s the long johns,” he said. “No offense. I mean, I don’t know you, but somehow I suspect that this is not your normal look.”
She glared at him, unamused.
“It’s cold out there. Long johns are practical and meant to go under my regular clothes. I just don’t have any regular clothes at the moment.”
“I know all this,” he said.
“Just help me to the bathroom, and save the commentary if you don’t mind,” she snipped.
“I heard that loud and clear. Put your arm around my neck,” he said.
Vandy slipped her right arm around his neck. It was a long reach upward on his tall frame but she instantly noticed his muscle definition once again. He slipped his left arm around her waist and held her up.
Sam Steele, she noted, was immensely strong, yet he handled her ever-so-gently. She felt herself responding to his touch. She blushed slightly, hoping he wouldn’t notice. The men she was used to being around were like her employees, the models, or her husband. They were pretty boys, shorter, slender, with little muscle definition. She could probably take most of them down herself in arm wrestling. Growing up her idea of a man was her father, tall, rugged and muscular. Sam was much more like that than met she knew today. He had this rough and tough exterior and the gentle and quiet demeanor made for a striking contrast. She had not been around men like him and found herself almost… attracted. Dammit, did she just think that?
The recent lack of sex in her life was messing with her mind, she thought.
Sam put his left hand on her waist and used it to steady her. His hand was large and strong. She thought about her husband’s hands, so soft and smooth. Cameron’s hands had never been exposed to a single day of manual labor in his life. She had no doubt Sam could lift her husband off the ground by the neck with one hand and choke him until he passed out. A small smile appeared on her face at the thought.
They continued to move slowly and deliberately toward the bathroom.
From her position now on his left side, she got a closer look at the burns on his face. She tried not to stare but felt drawn to look. She saw the scarring on his cheek and neck. His eye, eyebrow, mouth and ear were not burned. She wondered if a good plastic surgeon could restore much of his original appearance with skin grafting.
“Will you be okay?” he asked, when they got to the restroom.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, almost saddened that he had taken his hand off her waist. She closed the door when he left.
The bathroom had a small clear-windowed shower stall, sink and toilet.
In the bathroom, Vandy peed, wiped and flushed, then pulled her shirt off to look at herself in the full-length mirror mounted to the back of the bathroom door. The very first thing she had noticed was that Sam had been truthful yet again. The blood on her body had been washed away from only the areas surrounding the cuts. There were bloodstains on other parts of her skin. There was a shower stall in the bathroom. Perhaps she could take a shower later.
She first inspected the cut high on her forehead. It was purple but was above her hairline. It was not long and did not look deep. She was not too concerned about it.
She peeled away the bandages that Sam had skillfully used to dress her wounds. Most of the cuts on her shoulders and neck would not require a plastic surgeon, she didn’t think. The laceration she was most concerned with beyond the leg was the cut on the top of her left breast.
She choked up when she saw the cut, about four inches in length on top of her breast, ending about an inch away from her nipple. Elaine Vanderbilt had essentially built her modeling career on her beauty; her face; her eyes; her hair; her firm butt, full natural breasts and shapely legs. Now one of her breasts and legs bore ugly scars. She hadn’t modeled in years but remained in the public eye. Swim suits, short dresses and low-cut gowns would no longer be her friends as they’d been in the past.
She worked very hard to maintain her figure. She replaced the bandages and tried to compose herself, not wanting Sam to see she had been upset over the relatively minor flaws in her personal appearance. The irony of what she was facing in the area of physical appearance versus the challenges he had been through did not escape her.
She washed her hands and face, feeling a little unsteady. She toweled off and put her thermal top back on. She opened the door and felt a wave of dizziness. She called for Sam.
“Cowboy? Sam?” she called out. “Help a gal out?”
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You look a little dazed.”
“I’m a little weak,” she admitted. She stumbled forward. He slipped his hands under her arms to steady her. She responded by wrapping both arms around his wide shoulders to steady herself. She felt the strength of both his arms as she slid into him. The length of her body brushed against his. She looked into his eyes momentarily, once again responding to his touch involuntarily. She quickly looked away. Her knees weakened and she began to fall. He embraced her to hold her up. She had never been embraced by a man so strong and so comforting at the same time. It felt good to be held again. It had been a while since she and Cameron…
“Can you make it?” he asked.
“I think I need to get back in the bed for now,” she said.
“I’ll just carry you,” he said, wondering if she would let loose with a profane protest at the suggestion.
She nodded silently, however.
He picked her up effortlessly and carried her to the bed. She was slightly embarrassed that she actually felt comfort being held by this powerful stranger. He held her so gently, as though he were handling a precious, delicate flower. He laid her in the bed.
Once she was back in the bed her head almost immediately began to clear.
“Thank you,” she said. “I think I just need to eat something. How much longer before the helicopter gets here?”
He looked at his watch, “About 40 minutes after the weather lets up. The storm is the unknown here. You are their top priority. We’ll have to get you into the truck and meet them at the clearing. It’s is only about five minutes from here. That’s where the helicopter will land. The truck should make it fine. Will you be okay until then?”
“Yes, I think so,” she said. “I was feeling pretty good until I stood. I’m really hungry.”
“I have your soup and tea ready,” he said. “I’ll bring it.”
He walked into the kitchen and returned holding what appeared to be an old TV tray. On the tray was a faded blue plastic plate with stainless steel silverware. Also on the tray was a bowl of soup, a cup of Lipton tea and a side plate with carrots, celery and dip. There was also a peanut butter sandwich on the side, with the crust of the bread carefully trimmed away.
“Do you like Ranch Dressing as a dip for the veggies?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, smiling. The crust trimmed away from the sandwich reminded her of her childhood. She had not eaten a meal like this since she was a little girl but still, her heart began to warm for the man who was so obviously going way out of his way to nurse her back to health.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking a little embarrassed. “I don’t have much to speak of. I don’t do a lot about food.”
“This is fine, thank you,” she said taking a sip of soup. She recognized the soup from her childhood on the farm in Upstate New York. It came in a red and white Campbell’s can. She had eaten many such cans of soup as a child growing up in New York.