“I have agoraphobia, Sam. I can’t leave the house. When I go out into unfamiliar places, I get terrible panic attacks.”
He stared at her. “You mean, like the one you had that day when the owl...”
“Exactly like that.”
Gwen still held his hand. Automatically, she began to stroke and caress his fingers, with a touch so comforting that Sam hoped she’d never stop.
“I’ve been a virtual prisoner in that house for years,” she said. “I’ve been trying to get better, but sometimes it seems impossible.”
Sam leaned back and cleared his throat. “What causes something like that?”
“It’s usually the result of trauma. Some awful things have happened to me, Sam. But,” she added, looking down at their linked hands, “nobody’s much interested in hearing about other people’s troubles.”
“I’m interested in everything about you, Gwen,” he said huskily. “Every little thing that ever happened to you in your whole life.”
She smiled, her face pink with surprise and pleasure. “You are?” she whispered.
He nodded solemnly. “Every single thing.”
She met his eyes, then looked down again. “When I told you I couldn’t...go out with you,” she whispered, “I know how much it hurt you. But it hurt me even more. Sam, I was dying to go and have a nice dinner with you, and do some dancing, and talk and laugh and feel young. I cried all night after you went away, and hated myself for being such a mess.”
“Oh, Gwen...” He freed his hand gently so he could reach out a long arm and draw her close to him.
Gwen snuggled into his embrace. Sam thought he’d never felt anything quite so wonderful.
“Is it getting better?” he asked. “Did it help at all to force yourself to come this far, and stay away from home for days on end?”
“Much better,” she said against his shirtfront. “This was kind of a brutal shock therapy, all right. But I’m feeling really optimistic. With all the worry about those poor little boys, I haven’t had a single panic attack since I got here.”
“When you turned me down,” he murmured against her hair, “I thought you just had no time for a clumsy old bald geezer who doesn’t even know how to talk to women.”
“Well,” she said with a touch of asperity, “that just shows how much you know, Sam Duncan.”
He chuckled and drew her closer.
It would be nice, Sam thought drowsily, to sit like this for the next twenty years, just rocking with her in the porch swing while they watched the world go by.
If only...
“They’ll find your boys,” she whispered as if reading his mind. “Now that Jamie knows where the horses came from, they have something to go on. You’ll see, we’ll have them all back safely by morning.”
“God, I hope so, Gwen. I just can’t...”
Sam’s voice broke. Gwen got to her feet and drew him up, steering him toward the door. “I’m going to find you a bed, and see that you lie down on it for at least a couple of hours. You’re practically dead on your feet.”
“But I can’t...”
“Sam,” she told him, “if you and I are going to be friends, you have to learn not to be so damned stubborn. Okay?”
He smiled down at her wearily. “I sure do want to be friends with you, Gwen.”
“Well, good. Then behave yourself.”
She looked so fierce that he had to suppress a chuckle when she led him into a sleeping room and helped him lower his long body into one of the makeshift beds.
Gwen sat next to him while he drifted off. Sam was sure that just before sleep claimed him, she began to stroke his face with her gentle hand. For a moment he thought maybe she even bent and kissed his cheek.
But he might have been dreaming that part, because he was asleep before he could react.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LINDSAY WAS DREAMING about a room where one wall was all glass, looking out on a tranquil blue ocean. In her dream she lay in a bed shaped like a pair of wings, and her naked body was heaped in flowers.
Rex stood next to her, also naked, holding a silver bowl. He drew a handful of petals from the bowl and sprinkled them over her, letting them fall softly around her like warm flakes of snow.
He was so handsome, and the room was beautiful, and the loving passion in his eyes made her want to cry. She reached for him, drew him closer, began to touch and caress him....
Suddenly she woke amid the group of sleeping boys and looked around, blinking at the rough pine boughs overhead and the cold gray sky beyond the opening of the shelter.
The shift to reality was so abrupt and painful that she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. In her dream they’d been tears of love and happiness, but now they felt bitter, as corrosive as acid.
She remembered telling Rex about her attack, and wondered what he must think of the cowardly way she’d kept the truth to herself all these years.
Fortunately, Rex seemed unaware of her. His attention was wholly fixed on Danny, who still clutched his teddy bear, though by now it looked as ragged and dirty as the rest of the campers.
Lindsay got up, splashed a bit of water on her face and limped over to stand next to them. Rex glanced up at her, his eyes shadowed with fatigue, his jaw heavily stubbled.
“My God.” Lindsay stared at him. “You didn’t get a wink of sleep all night, did you?”
“I’ll be fine,” he said, trying to smile. “Anyhow, most people sleep a whole lot more than they need to. Right, Clint?”
The boy nodded, passing by with a steaming kettle. “I’m making soup for the boys,” he told Lindsay. “And there’s nothing else to do right now. You can lie down and rest a bit more if you like.”
Clint’s offer sounded incredibly tempting. All at once she realized how weak she was, even light-headed. In fact, if she hadn’t sat quickly on a nearby blanket, she would have fallen.
Rex was at her side instantly, kneeling close to her. “What’s wrong?” he asked, putting a hand on her forehead. “Are you feeling sick?”
“Just...it’s nothing.” Lindsay shook her head, a big mistake because her temples began to ache with a dull throb. “I’m tired and hungry, that’s all. How’s Danny this morning?”
“He needs a doctor,” Rex said grimly. “If we don’t get out of here today, I’m going to leave you all with Clint and strike out on my own tonight. Alone, I could move so much faster. Besides, I can walk all night without wasting time to make a camp.”
“No!” She clung to him in panic. “We can’t split up the group, Rex. We have to stay together. What if you were...”
Rex waved a hand to cut her off. He tore some fabric from her jeans to examine the cut on her leg, then rocked back on his heels, frowning.
“Oh, hell,” he muttered, looking at the angry red gash. “Dammit to hell.”
In her weariness Lindsay felt another wave of familiar shame and guilt, as if she’d done something wrong. But Rex caught her expression and gathered her into his arms, kissing her cheek.
“Sorry, Lin,” he murmured. “Pay no attention to me. I’m just a little cranky today.”
A little cranky today, she thought, watching bleakly as he turned back to Danny.
Rex sounded as if his newspaper had been delivered half an hour late, or there weren’t enough cinnamon sprinkles on his latte.
He was going without food or sleep, carrying a double pack, caring for Danny around the clock while he bore the responsibility for the whole group on his shoulders.
And the man observed that he was feeling “a little cranky.”
Through a blur of mist and sorrow, she watched Rex and Clint prepare breakfast, then help the boys break camp and load their gear. They made arrangements for the first shift to carry Danny who was now sleeping deeply, his face pale
and still.
“Oh, Rex. Is he...” Lindsay stared at the little boy in alarm, one hand covering her mouth.
“He’s okay,” Clint said, pausing to drop an arm around her shoulders. “Danny’s just sleeping right now. Rex and I have managed to get his fever down again, but we had to use the last of our medicine.”
Lindsay nodded and forced a smile. “Clint, you’re such a rock,” she whispered through her waves of pain. “I don’t know how we’d ever be able to manage without you. And I want to...thank you for it.”
To her surprise, the boy’s face blazed with happiness, and tears glistened in his eyes.
“You look to be in pretty rough shape,” he murmured, gazing down at her in concern. “You want us to rig up one of those hammocks for you, Lindsay?”
“Of course I don’t,” she said. “I fully intend to walk out of here on my own two feet.”
She turned and took her place in the ragged file of boys heading into the trees. They moved steadily downward, all of them speculating how long it would be until they came across some kind of beaten trail that would lead them home.
As they trudged along, hour after grueling hour until the day began to darken once again into night, Lindsay’s fevered brain skipped from one image to another in random fashion.
She saw her father, sturdy and happy, working with all the boys at Lost Springs. And Rex at fifteen, hard-edged and handsome, giving her a lazy, meaningful smile that took her breath away.
His beloved face vanished, replaced by that grinning monster in the hotel room, and the way he’d robbed her of every shred of pride and dignity and self-worth, terrorizing her all these years....
“I can’t go to the police,” she whispered to Rex’s distant back. “Don’t you see I just can’t?”
But Rex was carrying Danny all by himself at the moment, slogging through the rain, and he didn’t hear a word she said.
Lindsay began to dream of things she’d like to eat, remembering her favorite meals of all time, arguing with herself over which kind of salad would go best with which entrée.
And the dessert would have to be...
She stumbled and fell headlong in a morass of swampy soil littered with pine needles. Rex and the others had vanished into the trees ahead, but Lonnie Schneider was soon there beside her, helping her up. Ineffectually, he tried to clean some of the wet muck from her clothes and her hair.
“Never mind, Lonnie,” she said, her teeth chattering with the cold. “I’m afraid my personal grooming is beyond repair. It’s going to take more than a brushing to get me tidy again.”
“Hey, you and me both,” the boy said.
Lonnie looked exhausted, and seemed to have lost about ten pounds. His cheeks were thinner, his eyes darkly shadowed. Nevertheless, he dug into his pack and found a granola bar, holding it out with a smile that lit up his dirty face.
“It’s my last one,” he said. “Here, take it.”
Lindsay hesitated, then took the bar, opened its tattered wrappings and split it in half, offering the other part to the boy. They stumbled along side by side, dripping mud and rain as they savored bites of the chocolate-covered bar.
“Food for the gods,” Lindsay murmured with her mouth full. “Pure ambrosia.”
“If you could have anything in the world right now,” Lonnie asked, “What would you want?”
Lindsay considered his question blearily, knowing he was trying to keep her alert and on her feet.
“A hot, hot bath,” she said. “With scented bubbles.” She sighed, picturing this lovely vision. “And on the counter,” she added, warming to her fantasy, “there’s a warm fuzzy bathrobe and some clean flannel pyjamas. And just next door there’s a big soft bed waiting for me. The covers are all turned back. The sheets are brand-new, and the pillows are huge and fluffy and music is playing somewhere.”
She stumbled over an outcropping of rock, making her leg ache fiercely, and would have fallen to her knees if Lonnie hadn’t caught her.
“What about you?” she panted, struggling to stand erect again.
“If I could have anything in the world,” he said, “I’d start with a big bucket of...”
But at that moment a call came ringing out of the woods ahead of them, announcing Lonnie’s turn to carry Danny’s litter. The boy yelled back and splashed off through the puddles, his slicker flapping around his legs in ragged tatters.
Lindsay watched him go and pushed herself to keep walking through her fog of pain and weariness, trying to recapture that warm sweet vision of the scented bath and clean bed.
What she hadn’t told Lonnie was that her imaginary bed was far from empty.
Rex lay there, waiting for her, and Lindsay smiled at him.
He had the covers turned back over his broad hairy chest, and his hands folded behind his head in leisurely fashion.
“I never knew you had so much hair on your chest, darling,” she told him.
She’d spoken aloud again, but it made no difference. The wind caught her words and whipped them away, far into the distant mountains.
“I didn’t know anything about you,” she went on. “I thought you never cared about anything but money, Rex. I was wrong about everything. And now it’s too late, because I’ve ruined my whole life.”
She knew she was crying when the tears that coursed down her cheeks were hotter than the steady drumming of rain on her face.
But now the dream was back. She stood next to the bed, opening her robe and stepping out of the pyjamas. Rex reached out to draw her close, stroking her breasts with a gentle hand.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he whispered. “That whole nightmare is over and we can be together all the time now.”
“Which nightmare?”
“The man who attacked you. He’s gone, sweetheart.”
“But where is he? How can it be over?” she asked in confusion.
“Because you did the brave thing, darling. You made it right. I’m so proud of you....”
His face faded, along with the music, the inviting bed and the scented bathroom.
Alone with her cold and pain, Lindsay gulped back a sob and stared up at the unforgiving mountains, then down at the muddy trail, wondering how she could go on.
One foot in front of the other.
By now she could hardly bear to put weight on her swollen leg. She used a fallen tree branch as a crutch, dragging herself along, knowing she had to keep moving.
One foot in front of the other, two steps and then a rest.
Two steps and a rest...
Rex is just ahead of you. If you keep walking, you’ll get to see Rex again. Keep walking. Just a few more steps...
She was alone in a clearing. Some of the boys had vanished into the trees ahead of her, shepherded by Rex, who always supervised Danny’s litter. The twins, under Clint’s guardianship, were still behind her.
So when she heard the chorus of shouts, it was hard to tell where they were coming from.
Ahead or behind?
Lindsay looked around in confusion, then decided to keep struggling forward, simply because she couldn’t bear to retrace the path she’d already come. Every step was such a battle.
The yells increased in volume, accompanied by a noise she couldn’t identify. Lindsay floundered into the trees and hauled herself along the trail they’d made just ahead of her. The undergrowth was thick and she had to climb over boulders in places, an almost impossible task.
She was about to give in and lie down for a rest under the wet trees when Rex arrived, running toward her, his sunken eyes alight above dark-stubbled cheeks. Without a word he swept her into his arms and carried her out of the brush to another clearing, where a wide-bellied rescue helicopter stood waiting for them.
* * *
NEXT MORNI
NG, Lindsay woke in a bed by a window. It wasn’t the bed of her dreams, shaped like a pair of wings and brimming with flower petals, but it felt almost as heavenly.
The sheets were white and crisp, the pillow was soft, and everything smelled so wonderfully clean.
“Heaven,” she whispered aloud. “Wherever I am, this is pure heaven.”
Her throat was raspy, her lips chapped and dry. On the bedside table she saw a water glass with a bent straw, picked it up and drank thirstily, then began a cautious exploration of herself.
She wore a soft cotton hospital gown that opened in the back. Her hair had been freshly washed and felt like silk, such an unexpected treat that she couldn’t stop fingering it in drowsy satisfaction.
On her left leg she sensed a heavy bandage. But there was no pain, though the infected calf had been incredibly tender by the time they were rescued.
She had a moment of terror, wondering if they’d amputated her leg. When she lifted the covers and peered under, Lindsay saw the outline of her foot and ankle, and sank back with relief against the pillows. After a while she realized the absence of discomfort was mostly related to her dreamy, blissful feelings when she stared out the window.
Obviously they were giving her some potent drugs to kill the infection and ease the pain in her leg.
She closed her eyes, letting herself fall back into a soft billowing mass of pink cotton candy that smelled like rose petals.
When she woke again, Sam Duncan was gazing down at her anxiously. Lindsay blinked and stared, then reached up to touch his craggy cheek.
“Are you real?” she asked. “Because sometimes I can’t tell.”
“I’m real, all right.” Sam gripped her hand, his blue eyes glittering with unshed tears. “And so are you, thank God.”
“It was so cold, Sam. For the last few days I couldn’t ever seem to get warm, and my leg hurt so much....”
“It’s a damned good thing Jamie told us where to look, and we found you when we did. Another night out there wouldn’t have been good for anybody.”
“Especially not for Sam,” a gentle voice said nearby.
Sam moved aside to reveal a small white-haired woman with a sweet face. He put his arm around the woman with a touching air of pride.
Best Man in Wyoming Page 21
