Chapter Five

It seemed to take forever for bedtime to arrive. Early in the evening they shared another meal with the Gawrylows. Their discussion about the extensive hike to the Mackenzie River carried over long after they were finished eating.

“There’s no path to follow. It’s rugged terrain, so it’s a full day’s walk,” Quinn told them.

“We’ll leave as soon as it’s light enough.” Cooper hadn’t let Rusty out of his sight. He’d kept an eagle eye on her all afternoon. Now, as she sat in the straight-backed chair, he sat beside her on the floor, a proprietary arm draped over her thigh. “We won’t need to pack much. I don’t plan to take everything—only what’s absolutely necessary.”

Quinn asked, “What about the woman?”

Rusty felt Cooper’s biceps contract against her leg. “What about her?”

“She’ll slow us down.”

“I’ll stay here with her, Pa,” Reuben offered gallantly.

“No.” Cooper’s response was as sharp as a jab made with a hat pin. “She goes. I don’t care how slow we have to travel.”

“It’s all the same to us,” Quinn said with his characteristic shrug, “but I thought you were in a hurry to contact your friends and family. They must be worried about you.”

Rusty glanced down at the top of Cooper’s head. “Cooper?” He looked up at her. “I don’t mind staying here alone. If you can cover more ground without me hobbling along, it only makes sense, doesn’t it? You could call my father as soon as you get to a telephone. He’ll send someone to pick me up. This could all be over by tomorrow night.”

He regarded her wistful expression. She’d go along and bear up under the hardships stoically if he insisted. But it wouldn’t be easy for her to cover fifteen miles of forested ground even if she weren’t injured. Through no fault of her own, she would cause them endless delays that might necessitate making camp for a night.

Still, he didn’t like the idea of being separated from her. No matter how feisty she was, she couldn’t effectively defend herself. In this environment she was as helpless as a butterfly. He wasn’t being sentimental, he assured himself. It was just that she had survived this long against incredible odds; he would hate for something to happen to her now that rescue was a probability instead of a pipe dream.

His hand folded around her knee protectively. “Let’s wait and see how you feel in the morning.”

The next several hours crawled by. Rusty didn’t know how the Gawrylows maintained their sanity. There was nothing to do, nothing to read, nothing to listen to or to look at—except each other. And when that became boring, they all stared at the sputtering kerosene lamp that put out more smelly black smoke than light.

One would expect these hermits to ply them with a million questions about the outside world, but the Gawrylows showed a marked absence of interest in anything that was going on beyond their boundaries.

Feeling grimy and unwashed, Rusty timidly asked for a bowl of water. Reuben stumbled over his own long feet while fetching it for her and slopped some of it in her lap before successfully setting it down.

She pushed the sleeves of her sweater up to her elbows and washed her face and hands with the bar of soap Cooper had permitted her to bring along. She would have liked to savor the luxurious feeling of cupping handful after handful of water over her face, but three pairs of eyes were focused on her. When Cooper thrust one of his own T-shirts into her wet hands, she accepted it regretfully and dried her face.

Picking up her hairbrush, she began pulling it through her hair, which was not only dirtier than it had been in her life, but also matted and tangled. She was just beginning to work all the snarls out when Cooper jerked the brush out of her hands and said bossily, “That’s enough.”

She rounded on him, ready to protest, but his stony face stopped her. He’d been behaving strangely all day— more so than usual. She wanted to ask what the hell was wrong with him, why he was so edgy, but wisely decided that now wasn’t an opportune time for an argument.

She did, however, show her irritation by angrily snatching her hairbrush back and repacking it in her precious bag of toiletries. They were her only reminders that somewhere in the world hot water, cream rinse, perfume, bubble bath and hand lotion were still realities.

At last, they all settled down for the night. She slept with Cooper as she had the past two nights. Lying curled on her side, her injured leg the uppermost, she faced the fire. Beneath her was the pallet Cooper had made using the pelts they’d carried with them. He had tactfully declined to use the bedding Quinn had offered them.

Cooper didn’t curve his body around hers as he had been doing. He lay on his back tensely, never completely relaxed, and ever watchful.

“Stop twitching,” she whispered after about half an hour. “What’s your problem?”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“When we get out of here I’ll explain it to you.”

“Explain it to me now.”

“I shouldn’t have to. Read the signs.”

“Does it have anything to do with why you told them we were married?”

“It has everything to do with that.”

She pondered that for a moment. “I’ll admit that they’re kinda spooky, the way they keep staring at us. But I’m sure they’re only curious. Besides, they’re sound asleep now.” The chorus of loud snores should have been his assurance that the Gawrylows were harmlessly asleep.

“Right,” he said dryly, “and so should you be. Nighty-night.”

Exasperated with him, she rolled back onto her side. Eventually she sank into a deep sleep. It was mercilessly short-lived. It seemed only minutes after her eyes closed that Cooper was nudging her awake. She groaned in protest, but remembering that today was the day her ordeal would come to an end, she sat up.

The cabin was still in total darkness, although she could see the shadowy outlines of Cooper and the Gawrylows moving about. Quinn was at the stove brewing coffee and stirring the pot of stew. It must never run out but be continually added to, she thought, hoping that she didn’t return home with a case of ptomaine poisoning.

Cooper knelt beside her. “How do you feel?”

“Cold,” she replied, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. Even though she hadn’t slept in his embrace, his body heat had kept her warm throughout the night. He was better than any electric blanket she’d ever slept with.

“I meant health-wise. How does your leg feel?”

“Stiff, but not as sore as yesterday.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Get up and move around on it. Let’s give it a test run.” He helped her to her feet. Once she had slipped her coat on and propped herself on her crutches, they went outside so she could have some privacy; the Gawrylows’ cabin didn’t have indoor plumbing.

When she emerged from the outhouse, the rising sun had turned the overcast sky a watery gray. That light only emphasized her wanness. Cooper could tell that the effort of leaving the cabin to go to the bathroom had taxed her. Her hard breathing created clouds of vapor around her head.

He cursed beneath his breath. “What?” she asked him anxiously.

“You’ll never make it, Rusty. Not in days.” Hands on hips, he expelled his frustration in a gust of ghostly white breath and said, “What the hell am I going to do with you?”

He didn’t soften the question with any degree of tenderness or compassion. His inflection intimated that he’d far rather not be bothered with her at all.

“Well, I’m sorry to inconvenience you further, Mr. Landry. Why don’t you bait a bear trap with me? Then you can jog all the way to that damn river.”

He stepped forward and put his face close to hers. “Look, Pollyanna, you’re apparently too naive to see it, but there’s a lot more at stake here than just getting to the river.”

“Not as far as I’m concerned,” she shot back. “If you sprouted wings and flew there, it couldn’t be fast enough for me. I want to get out of here, away from you, and back home where I belong.”

His stern lip all but disappeared beneath his mustache. “All right, then.” He spun around and stamped back toward the cabin. “I’ll get there much faster without having you tagging along. You’ll stay here.”

“Fine,” she called after him.

Then, setting her own chin as stubbornly as his, she made her halting progress up the incline toward the cabin. The men were in the midst of an argument by the time she reached the door, which Cooper, in his haste or anger, had left ajar. Turning sideways and using her elbows, she maneuvered her way inside.

“Be reasonable, Gawrylow,” Cooper was saying. “Reuben is twenty or so years younger than you. I want to move fast. He goes with me. You stay with my...my wife. I can’t leave her here alone.”

“But, Pa—” Reuben whined.

“He’s right, Reuben. You’ll move much faster than I could. If you’re lucky, you might reach the river by midafternoon.”

The plan wasn’t to Reuben’s liking at all. He gave Rusty one last, hungry glance, then ambled out, muttering under his breath. Cooper didn’t appear much happier. He drew Rusty aside and handed her the flare gun, curtly instructing her on how to use it.

“Think you can manage that?”

“I’m not an idiot.”

He seemed prone to argue, but changed his mind. “If you hear an airplane, get outside as fast as you can and fire the flare straight up.”

“Why aren’t you taking it with you?”

The flare gun had been within Cooper’s reach since they left the wreckage. “Because the roof of the cabin would be easier to spot than two men on foot. Keep this with you, too.” Before she knew what he was about, he pulled the waistband of her slacks away from her body and slid the sheathed skinning knife inside. The smooth leather was cold against the naked skin of her abdomen. She gasped and sucked in her breath. He smiled at her startled reaction. “That should keep you mindful of where it is at all times.”

“Why should I be mindful of that?”

He stared into her eyes for a long moment. “Hopefully you’ll never have to know why.”

She returned his stare. Up until that moment, she hadn’t realized how much she hated the thought of his leaving her behind. She had put up a courageous front, but the idea of covering miles of wilderness on crutches had been overwhelming. In a way she was glad he had opted to go without her. But now that he was actually leaving, she wanted to cling to him and beg him not to.

She didn’t, of course. He had little enough respect for her as it was. He thought she was a petted, pampered, city girl. Obviously he was right, because at that moment, she was sorely dreading the hours she would have to spend until he came back for her.

Cooper broke the telling stare and, with an impatient curse, turned away.

“Cooper!”

He spun back around. “What?”

“Be...be careful.”

Within a heartbeat, she was anchored against his chest and his mouth was above hers, taking from it a scorching kiss that burned her soul. It surprised her so that she slumped against him. His arms tightened around her waist and drew her up so close and high that her toes dangled inches above his boots. She sought to regain her balance by clutching handfuls of his coat.

His lips ground against hers. They were possessive and hard. But his tongue was soft and warm and wet. It filled her mouth, explored, stroked. A desire that had been building for forty-eight hours overcame his iron control. His self-discipline snapped, but he was still masterful. This was a no-nonsense kiss that had nothing to do with romance. It was a kiss of passion. Raw. Carnal. Selfish.

Dizzily Rusty threw one of her arms around his neck and tilted her head back to give him deeper access, which he took. His stubbled jaw scraped her skin, but she didn’t care. His mustache was surprisingly silky. It tickled and tantalized.

All too soon for her, he broke the kiss, pulling his head back abruptly and leaving her lips parted and damp and wanting more. “I’ll be back as soon as possible. Goodbye, honey.”

Honey? Honey?

He released her and turned toward the door. That’s when she noticed Quinn Gawrylow sitting at the table, mindlessly chewing his perpetual wad of tobacco and watching them with the still, silent concentration of a cougar.

Rusty’s heart sank like lead. Cooper had kissed her for the old man’s benefit—not for his own. And certainly not for hers.

She shot his broad back a venomous look as he went through the door. It slapped closed behind him. Good riddance, she thought. How dare he—

Then, realizing that the old man’s eyes were still on her, she looked at him with a vapid good-little-wife smile. “Do you think he’ll be all right?”

“Reuben knows what he’s doing. He’ll take care of Mr. Landry.” He waved down at the pallet still spread out in front of the hearth. “It’s early yet. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

“No, I, uh—” she cleared her throat noisily “—I’m too keyed up to sleep. I think I’ll just sit here for a while.”

“Coffee?” He moved toward the stove.

“Please.”

She didn’t want any, but it would give her something to do and help pass the time. She set her crutches and the flare gun on the hearth within easy reach and lowered herself into the chair. The knife’s scabbard poked her lower abdomen. Why it hadn’t plunged right into her when Cooper had pulled her against his—

Her heart fluttered with the memory. It hadn’t been only the knife’s hardness she’d felt against her middle. He’d probably derived a lot of joy out of humiliating her like that.

Feeling rebellious, she defiantly took the knife out of her waistband and laid it on the hearth. Accepting the cup of steaming coffee from Quinn, she settled down to wait through what would probably be the longest day of her life.

Cooper calculated that they’d gone no farther than a mile when Reuben commenced to talk. Cooper could have gone the whole fifteen miles without a conversation, but maybe talking would make the time pass more quickly and help take his mind off Rusty.

“How come you don’t have any kids?” Reuben asked him.

Cooper’s instincts slipped into overdrive. Each of his senses was on the alert. That prickle at the back of his neck, which could always be relied upon to warn him that something wasn’t quite right, hadn’t gone away. Ever since he’d heard Rusty’s scream and found her in a standoff with the Gawrylows, he had been suspicious of the two men. He might be doing them a grave injustice. They were probably on the level. But probabilities weren’t worth a damn. Until he had Rusty safely turned over to the authorities, he wasn’t giving either of the recluses the benefit of the doubt. If they proved to be reliable, then they would have earned his undying gratitude. Until then—

“Huh?” Reuben probed. “How come you—”

“I heard you.” Cooper was following Reuben’s lead. He didn’t let the man get too far ahead of him, nor did he crowd up too close behind him. “Rusty has a career. We’re both busy. We’ll get around to having kids one of these days.”

He hoped that would end the discussion. Children and families were topics Cooper always avoided talking about. Now, he didn’t want to talk at all. He wanted to pour every ounce of energy into reaching that river as soon as possible.

“If I’d been married to her for five years, we’d have five kids by now,” Reuben bragged rashly.

“But you’re not.”

“Maybe you ain’t doing it right.”

“What?”

Reuben gave him a sly wink over his shoulder. “You know, screwing.”

The word crawled over Cooper like a loathsome insect. It wasn’t that he was offended by the word. He used far worse on a daily basis. It was that he was offended by the word in connection with Rusty. It didn’t occur to him that only the night before last he’d used it himself. He was too busy hoping that before the day was out, he wouldn’t have to pound Reuben’s face to mush; but if he made many more references to Rusty in that context, he just might.

“If she was my woman—”

“But she isn’t.” Cooper’s voice cracked like a bullwhip.

“She will be, though.”

With that, Reuben, wearing the grin of a madman, spun around and aimed his rifle at Cooper’s chest. Cooper had subconsciously been bracing himself all morning for such an attack. He raised his rifle a split second after Reuben, but Reuben got off the first shot.

“What was that?” Rusty jumped, realizing that she’d been drowsing in her chair.

Quinn was sitting where she’d last seen him, at the table. “Hmm?”

“I thought I heard something.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“I could swear—”

“The logs in the fireplace shifted. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Chagrined by her nervousness, she relaxed again in her chair. “I must have dozed off. How long ago since they left?”

“Not long.”

He got up and moved toward her, kneeling down on the hearth to add logs to the fire. The warmth seeped into Rusty’s skin and her eyes drifted closed again. Sad and dirty as this cabin was, at least it provided a roof over her head and protection from the cold west wind. She was grateful for that. After spending days—

Her eyes popped open at his touch. Quinn, still kneeling in front of her, had his hand folded around her calf. “I thought you might want to prop up your leg again,” he said.

His voice was as gentle as a saint’s, but his eyes were Lucifer’s own as they stared up at her from within their cavelike sockets. Terror gripped her, but common sense warned her not to show it.

“No, thank you. In fact,” she said in a thin voice, “I think I’ll walk around a bit to exercise it.”

She reached for her crutches, but he grabbed them up first. “Let me help you.”

Before she could protest, he caught her arm and pulled her out of the chair. He had caught her off guard and the momentum caused the front of her body to bump against his. She backed away instantly, but found that she couldn’t go far because his other hand was at the small of her back, urging her forward.

“No!”

“I’m only trying to help you,” he said smoothly, obviously enjoying her mounting distress.

“Then please let me go, Mr. Gawrylow. I can manage.”

“Not without help. I’ll take your husband’s place. He told me to take care of you, didn’t he?” He ran his hand over her hip and Rusty went cold with fear.

“Don’t touch me like that.” She tried to squirm away from him but his hands were everywhere. “Get your hands off me.”

“What’s wrong with my hands?” His expression suddenly turned mean. “Aren’t they clean enough for you?”

“No...yes...I...I just meant that Cooper will—”

“Cooper won’t do anything,” he said with a sinister smile. “And from now on I’ll touch you however I want.”

He yanked her against him. This time there was no doubt about his intention. Rusty funneled all her strength into getting away from him. She placed the heels of her hands on his shoulders and arched her back, trying to push herself away and at the same time to dodge his kiss.

The crutches slid out from under her arms and fell to the floor. She had to support herself on her sore leg and a pain shot up the jagged scar. She cried out.

“Go ahead, scream. I won’t mind.” His breath was foul and hot against her face. She turned her head away, but he caught her jaw between iron fingers and pulled it back around. Just before his mouth made contact with hers, they heard thudding footsteps outside.

“Help me,” Rusty screamed.

“Reuben?” the old man shouted. “Get in here.”

Quinn turned his head toward the door, but it wasn’t Reuben who came crashing through. Cooper’s sweating face was a fierce mask of hatred and rage. His hair was littered with twigs and leaves. There were bleeding scratches on his cheeks and hands. His shirt was specked with blood. To Rusty, no one had ever looked better.

Feet wide apart, Cooper barked, “Let her go, you filthy animal.”

Rusty collapsed to the floor when Gawrylow released her. He spun around. As he did so, he reached behind his back. Before Rusty fully realized what had happened, she heard a solid thunk. Then she saw the handle of Cooper’s knife in the center of Quinn’s chest. The blade was fully buried between his ribs.

The old man was wearing a startled expression. He groped for the handle of the knife. His searching fingers closed around it as he dropped to his knees. Then he fell face down onto the floor and was still.

Rusty gathered her arms and legs against her body, forming herself into a ball. She clapped her hands over her mouth and stared at the still form with wide, unfocusing eyes. Her breath was trapped in her lungs.

Cooper, knocking furniture aside, rushed across the room and crouched in front of her. “Are you all right?” He laid a hand on her shoulder. She recoiled in fright.

He froze. His eyes went as hard as slate as he said, “No need to thank me.”

Gradually Rusty lowered her hands and released her breath. She gazed up at Cooper, her lips white with fear. “You killed him.” The words had no sound; she mouthed them.

“Before he killed me, you little fool. Look!” He pointed down at the dead man’s back. There was a small handgun tucked into the waistband of his pants. “Don’t you get it yet?” he roared. “They were going to waste me and keep you. They planned to share you between them.”

She shuddered with revulsion. “No!”

“Oh, yeah,” Cooper said, nodding his head. Apparently exasperated with her, he stood up and rolled the body over. Squeezing her eyes shut, Rusty averted her head. She heard the body being dragged across the floor and out the door. She heard Quinn’s boots thump on the steps as Cooper dragged him down them.

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed curled up in that fetal position on the floor. But she still hadn’t moved when Cooper returned. He loomed over her. “Did he hurt you?”

Miserably she shook her head.

“Answer me, dammit! Did he hurt you?”

She raised her head and glared up at him. “No!"

“He was about to rape you. You do realize that, don’t you? Or are the stars in your eyes still keeping you from seeing the light?”

Not stars, but tears filled her eyes. She was experiencing a delayed reaction to her horror. “What are you doing here? Why did you come back? Where’s Reuben? What are you going to say to him when he gets back?”

“Nothing. Reuben won’t be coming back.”

She clamped her teeth over her quivering lower lip and closed her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “You killed him, too, didn’t you? That’s his blood on you.”

“Yes, dammit,” he hissed, bending over her. “I shot him in self-defense. He walked me into the woods just far enough to separate us, then he turned a gun on me with every intention of killing me and making you his ‘woman.’ ” Staring up at him, she shook her head in disbelief, which seemed to infuriate him. “And don’t you dare pretend to be surprised. You had whipped them into a sexual froth and you know it.”

“Me? How? What did I do?”

“Brushing your hair for God’s sake!”

“‘Brushing’—”

“Just being you. Just looking the way you do.”

“Stop yelling at me!” she sobbed. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Except cause me to kill two men!” he shouted. “Think about that while I’m out burying them.”

He stalked out. The fire in the fireplace burned out and the cabin grew cold. But Rusty didn’t care.

She was still sitting in a heap on the floor and crying hard when he came back. She was tired. There wasn’t a place on her body that didn’t ache either from sleeping on the ground or walking on crutches or suffering Quinn Gawrylow’s squeezing caresses.

She wanted good, honest food. She’d gladly trade her Maserati for a glass of milk. Her clothes had been ripped by tree branches or ravaged by this barbaric hoodlum she was marooned with. The fur coat she had prized so highly had been used as a litter.

And she had seen men die.

Five in the plane crash. Two at the hands of the man who now threw himself down beside her. He roughly raised her head by placing his callused fingers beneath her chin.

“Get up,” he ordered. “Dry your face. You’re not going to spend the rest of the day sitting around crying like a baby.”

“Go to hell,” she spat, lifting her chin out of his grasp.

He was so furious, his lips hardly moved when he spoke. “Look, if you had a good thing going with Reuben and his pa, you should have told me. I’m sorry I ruined it for you.”

“You bastard.”

“I would have been all too glad to leave you in this paradise and strike out for the river by myself. But I think I should tell you that Reuben had a lot of children in mind. Of course you might not have ever known if the kids you hatched were his or his daddy’s.”

“Shut up!” She raised her hand to slap him.

He caught it in midair and they stared at each other for several tense seconds. Finally Cooper relaxed his fingers from around her wrist. Snarling angrily, he stood up and kicked a chair as far across the cabin as he could.

“It was either them or me,” he said in a voice that vibrated with rage. “Reuben fired first. I got lucky and deflected his rifle just in time. I had no choice.”

“You didn’t have to kill them.”

“No?”

An alternative didn’t leap into her mind, but she was sure that if she thought about it long enough she would come up with one. Temporarily conceding, she lowered her eyes. “Why didn’t you just keep going?”

His eyes narrowed to slits as he looked down at her. “Don’t think I didn’t consider it.”

“Oh,” she ground out. “I can’t wait until I’m rid of you.”

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual. But in the meantime we’ve got to tolerate each other. First thing on the agenda is to get this place cleaned up. I’m not spending another night in this stink hole.”

Her jaw went slack with disbelief. Slowly her eyes roamed the grimy interior of the cabin. “Clean this place up? Is that what you said?”

“Yeah. We’d better get started, too. The day’s getting away.”

He righted the chair he’d just kicked over and made his way toward the pile of dingy bedding where Reuben had slept the night before. Rusty started laughing and her laughter was tinged with impending hysteria.

“You’re not serious?”

“Like hell I’m not.”

“We’re spending the night here?”

“And every night from now on until we’re rescued.” She came to her feet, propping herself up on one crutch while she watched him strip both beds and pile the bedding in the middle of the floor. “What about the river?” 

“That might have all been a lie.”

“The Mackenzie River is real, Cooper.”

“But where is it from here?”

“You could keep walking in the direction they said until you found it.”

“I could. I could also get terribly lost. Or injured and stranded. If you went with me, we might not make it out before the first real snow, in which case we’d probably die of exposure. If you stayed here and something happened to me, you’d die of starvation before the winter was over. And I’m not even sure the direction Reuben led me in was the right one. I’ve got 359 other choices from this cabin, and getting around to them all would take over a year.”

Hands braced on his hips, he faced her. “None of those alternatives sounds very appealing to me. On the other hand if we clean this place up, we can survive. It’s not the Beverly Hills Hotel, but it’s shelter and there’s a constant supply of fresh water.”

She didn’t appreciate his sarcasm and her mutinous expression let him know it. His whole demeanor suggested that she was foolish not to see all that without his having to explain it, and issued a challenge she wasn’t about to back down from. She had been weak this morning, but she never would be again. Pushing up the sleeves of her sweater, she said, “What do you want me to do?”

He hitched his head backward. “Start with the stove.”

Without another word, he gathered up the foul bedding and carried it outside.

Rusty attacked the black iron stove with a vengeance, scouring it from top to bottom, using more elbow grease than soap, since she had more of that. It was hard work, especially since she had to keep herself propped up on one crutch. She moved from the stove to the sink, then to the windows, then every stick of furniture got washed down.

After he had boiled the bedding in a caldron outside and hung it up to dry—or freeze, if the temperature turned much colder—Cooper came inside and washed the stones of the hearth. He found a colony of dead insects beneath the woodpile. They had no doubt died of old age since it was almost a certainty that the hearth had never been swept. Keeping the door and windows open to air the place out, he shored up the front porch and stacked firewood on the cabin’s south side to protect it from the weather’s brunt.

Rusty couldn’t sweep the floor, so he did. But when he was finished, she got down on hands and knees and scrubbed it. Her sculptured nails broke off one by one. Where a mere chip would have sent her into a tizzy not long ago, she merely shrugged and went on with her scrubbing, taking satisfaction in the results of her labor.

Cooper brought in two beheaded and plucked birds— she didn’t recognize the species—for their dinner. She had made an inventory of the Gawrylows’ hoard and was pleased to find a fair amount of canned goods. They had apparently made their October trip to Yellowknife and were well stocked for the winter. A gourmet cook she wasn’t, but it didn’t take much talent to boil the fowl together with two cans of vegetables and a sprinkling of salt. By the time the stew was done, the aroma was making her mouth water. Darkness was settling in before Cooper carried in the bedding.

“Is it deloused?” she asked, turning from the stove.

“I think so. I boiled the hell out of it. I’m not sure it’s quite dry, but if I leave it out any longer, it’s going to freeze. We’ll check it after dinner and if it’s not dry, we’ll hang it up in front of the fire.”

He washed his hands at the sink, which was sparkling compared to what it had been.

They sat down to eat at the table Rusty had sanded clean. Cooper smiled when he unfolded what had once been a sock and was now acting as a napkin and placed it in his lap, but he didn’t comment on her ingenuity. If he noticed the jar with the arrangement of autumn leaves serving as a centerpiece, he said nothing to indicate it. He ate two portions of the stew but didn’t say a word about it.

Rusty was crushed. He could have said something nice—one single word of encouragement. Even a puppy needs to be patted on the head now and then.

She dejectedly carried their tin dishes to the sink. While she was pumping water over them, he moved up behind her. “You worked hard today.”

His voice was soft and low and came from directly above her head. He was standing very close. His sheer physicality overwhelmed her. She felt tremulous. “So did you.”

“I think we deserve a treat, don’t you?”

Her stomach rose and fell as weightlessly as a balloon. Memory of the kiss he had given her that morning filled her mind, while a potent desire to repeat it flooded her veins. Slowly she turned around and gazed up at him. Breathlessly she asked, “What did you have in mind, Cooper?”

“A bath.”