Sweet Talk

by Jackie Merritt

  Val saw the three deer nibbling on the grass at the back of her property the second she drove into the crude cut in the terrain that passed as her driveway. She turned off the engine and watched them. They had raised their beautiful heads and were watching her just as intently. After a few minutes of supreme pleasure, Val opened the door of her SUV and the deer bounded away into the trees.

  “Such lovely creatures,” she said quietly as she got out. Taking a huge breath of the clean mountain air, she reached back into her vehicle for her jacket. The temperature was always at least ten degrees lower in the mountains than it was in town, but today it seemed even cooler. It was then, while she was still looking around, that she noticed dark clouds in the sky.

  She was pretty sure that the clouds were moving in from the north, but she certainly wasn’t afraid of a little rain or even of snow. In fact, she loved when it rained at night up here, as the cabin had a metal roof and the sound of rain when she was snug and warm in bed was positively delicious.

  Val didn’t immediately unload the SUV. First, she went to the electrical box on the side of the cabin and switched on the power. Then she went inside and made sure the refrigerator was running. She could hear the electric water pump working and bringing water from the well into the cabin, and she turned on the faucets in the kitchen and in the bathroom to clean out the pipes.

  There was a small storage shed behind the cabin, filled with all sorts of things—junk mostly, although she had added a few items to those already there when she’d bought the place. The cabin itself was one large room, except for the small bathroom in one corner. It had a decent little kitchen—electric stove, refrigerator, sink, a few cupboards, table and chairs—and a huge fireplace—the only way to heat the place, should she need heat. The bedroom, as she laughingly called the bed and dresser, was situated near the bathroom. The living room—a sofa and two chairs—was close to the fireplace.

  She loved it. It was old and used, chipped and worn, but it had the necessities—a shower stall in the tiny bathroom being one of them—and she truly loved it.

  With the utilities up and running, she began hauling in her things.

  Reed couldn’t concentrate on anything but the card in his pocket, and forcing himself to sit at his desk felt like a prison sentence. He endured the torture for about an hour, then got up, let everyone know that he was leaving for the day, and left the building.

  Outside and heading for his vehicle, he faced a strong wind—a strong, cold wind—and felt some flyaway raindrops on his face. The sun was completely obliterated by a heavy cloud cover; the first severe storm of the winter was underway. For the first time since receiving Val’s message he thought of something else—his horses. The four beautiful, valuable Thoroughbreds were outside and should be in the barn. He would see to it.

  He drove home with the windshield wipers on intermittent because the rain came in spurts, and then parked in the garage. After bringing the bouquet of flowers in and laying it in the kitchen sink, he went to his bedroom and changed clothes, donning much warmer pants, shirt and jacket. He settled a favorite old cowboy hat low on his head and, carrying a pair of lined leather gloves that he worked onto his hands as he walked, he left the house and strode out to the horse pasture.

  Three of his horses were huddled together, but he couldn’t see the fourth—Sheva, a young mare. With the pasture being completely fenced, she couldn’t be far. He brought the other three into the barn, leading two of them into their stalls. He saddled the third and rode out into the gusting wind and rain to bring in Sheva.

  He was riding for about five minutes when he realized that the raindrops were slushy; it was starting to snow.

  Val was nearly knocked off her feet by a fierce gust of wind as she hauled the last of her things into the cabin. She managed to stay upright and hurried in, wondering how bad this storm would get. Rain she liked. Snow was fine, too, but high winds had no redeeming qualities whatsoever. They were, in fact, scary.

  But they would be just as scary in town, and besides, she decided, driving in wind this strong was more dangerous than staying right where she was. The cabin was chilly now, though, so out she went again to haul in some firewood. She had a standing arrangement with a local man to keep her woodshed full of cut, split wood, so she had plenty of fuel.

  She made about a dozen trips and filled the wood box tucked up against the left side of the rock fireplace. Then she looked around. Her one-room cabin was a mess, with boxes and suitcases everywhere, taking up what little space wasn’t used by furniture. She hated clutter, especially in a small place like this, and she was itching to put everything away.

  But first things first. She built a fire in the fireplace, and when it was burning nicely and even throwing a little heat, she began the chore of putting away more groceries than she could possibly eat in two days, and, finally, her clothes.

  When she got to the small box Jinni had given her, the one with the cell phone and battery charger, she turned it on, knowing in her bones that it wouldn’t work in these heavily forested mountains. She got a message—no available service—accepted what Jinni had refused to consider, and put the phone back in the box. Val set the box and its contents on top of the refrigerator, and then gave in to the hunger pangs that had badgered her while she was hauling in wood.

  It was while she was eating hot soup at her tiny kitchen table that the rain turned to snow, almost before her eyes.

  The storm seemed to be getting worse by the minute. Val finished her soup and watched out the window. She debated the wisdom of staying put versus braving the storm to get back to town.

  But visibility was already poor, and she didn’t doubt that the blizzard would get worse before it got better. The sensible thing was for her to stay right where she was. Even if the power went off she still had more than enough food, the fireplace, plenty of wood and…and water?

  Jumping up, she began filling the large bottles she kept at the cabin for just such an emergency.

  She was fine. She was going to be fine. The blizzard didn’t frighten her, but one did need to keep a cool head during this kind of storm.

  With water pouring into a bottle, Val went over to stoke the fire. She added two more large chunks of wood, then hurried back to the sink to turn off the faucet. Lifting the full bottle to the floor took all of her strength, but she quickly replaced it with an empty one, turned on the faucet again, then grabbed her jacket and hurried outside for more wood.

  The wind clawed at her clothes and hair, and icy snow pelted her face. She fought her way to the woodshed and loaded her arms. She made three trips and finally decided she had sufficient fuel to last throughout the night. She would deal with tomorrow when it came. The storm, after all, could have completely died down by then.

  Rumor was turning white and so was the Kingsley Ranch. Reed finally located Sheva and brought her in. When she and the horse Reed had ridden were safe and secure in their stalls, he made sure all four horses had water, forked hay into their feed troughs and put out small helpings of oats. He left the barn and bucked the storm on his way back to the house.

  After a hot shower, he pulled on clean jeans and a shirt, then went to the phone and dialed Val’s home number. He wanted her to know that the storm could get ten times worse and he would still knock on her door this evening. In fact, it seemed crucial that she know this.

  Estelle answered. “Dr. Fairchild’s residence.”

  “Estelle, hello. This is Reed Kingsley. Are you all faring all right in this weather?”

  “Jim and I are faring just fine, but we’ve been wondering how Val is doing. We decided to stay in town so Jim could tend the animals and—”

  Reed had been sitting more or less relaxed in a chair, and he suddenly jerked erect. “What did you say about Val?”

  “Well, she’s out at that cabin of hers, and—”

  “What cabin?”

  “Goodness, Reed, I’m trying to tell you. You needn’t shout.”

  “I’
m sorry. What cabin, Estelle?”

  “She went to her cabin today, around noon, and of course the sun was still shining. While people were talking about a storm maybe coming this way, I guess it didn’t worry her none. Didn’t really worry Jim and me, either, to be honest about it, but then I don’t think we were anticipating something this bad.”

  Reed tried to clear his head. Why had Val invited him over tonight, then gone off to the mountains? She’d probably expected to be back before this evening. Yeah, that was it.

  “So, what time are you expecting Val to be back?” he asked, trying to sound normal and as though his heart weren’t making every effort to beat a hole through the wall of his chest.

  “Late Sunday, but—”

  “Estelle! Where’s that cabin?”

  “It’s in the mountains, but—”

  “Can you give me explicit instructions on how to find it? She should not be anywhere alone in a storm of this magnitude, and I really don’t understand why she went at all when… Never mind, that’s not the point. How do I get there?”

  “I have no idea. Neither does Jim. Jinni asked the same question. She’s never been there, either, and she’s worried.”

  “Estelle, someone must know the location of that cabin!”

  “Someone does know. Val knows,” Estelle said curtly. She liked Reed, but he wasn’t being very nice about something that certainly wasn’t her fault.

  “But…but—” Reed was having trouble talking and breathing at the same time. Val was in the mountains. Which mountains? The whole damn valley was surrounded by mountains!

  And the question remained and beat in his head like a tomtom: why would Val invite him over in such a provocative way and then go to some cabin in the mountains that no one knew the location of, and tell Estelle she wouldn’t be back until Sunday? It made no sense at all.

  “Reed? Are you still there?” Estelle said.

  “Uh, yeah. Listen, if Val shows up, would you ask her to call me?”

  “Yes, I could do that,” Estelle said slowly, conveying distinct curiosity. Reed might have some questions about Val’s whereabouts, but Estelle had a few of her own. Not about the precise location of Val’s cabin, but about Reed calling like this and conveying panic. Yes, panic was what she was hearing in his voice. It was possible, of course, that he was merely concerned for a fellow citizen’s well-being, but when Estelle thought of that wilting bouquet in the dining room, she couldn’t quite believe neighborly concern was the only thing driving his bus.

  “Thanks, Estelle,” Reed mumbled. He put down the phone while she was still saying goodbye, then he got up and paced his house like a caged animal. What in hell is going on? He stopped and looked at the bouquet still in the sink. He grabbed a vase from a cabinet, put some water in it and then the flowers.

  But it was the card, which he read again, that reached deep down inside of him and wrung him out. Val had finally decided to like him, then… No, that couldn’t be right. Nothing added up. People didn’t invite someone to their home, then take a damn two-day jaunt!

  So what did it mean? Were this card and the flowers a bad joke? Was this Val’s way of saying “Get the hell out of my life?”

  Reed felt broken. No one had ever done something so hurtful to him before.

  Then, in the next second, a memory flashed through his mind. His brother, Tag, owned property in the Spring Mountains, and when Tag bought the land—some years back—he’d mentioned other people in town buying property right next to his. And hadn’t Tag mentioned Dr. Fairchild? It was a vague memory, and Reed wasn’t sure it was accurate. But what if it was?

  He ran to the phone. With his heart in his throat he dialed Tag’s number. And while he waited for someone to pick up there, he wondered why in hell he was going to such lengths to make sure that a woman who had done what she’d done to him today was all right.

  There was only one logical answer to that question and it hurt like hell to even think that he might be in love with Valerie Fairchild.

  What hurt even more was the knowledge that she couldn’t care less.

  “Tag? Look, am I remembering something correctly? When you bought your land in the Spring Mountains, did you say something about Dr. Fairchild buying a piece of property near yours?”

  Chapter Eight

  The wind blew snow in a swirling, circular pattern, wrapping it around and around Reed’s SUV as though ingesting the vehicle. He squinted to see through the mass of moving white in his headlights and was grateful for side-of-the-road reflectors that hadn’t yet been buried in snow. If the storm maintained this ferocity all night, there would be little to see in the morning beyond the bleakness of storm-stripped trees in a solid white world.

  None of it frightened Reed. He’d grown up with winter storms like this one, he knew how to drive in near-blinding conditions, and he had packed his vehicle with food, water, blankets and everything else he thought he might need, should he lose his way or become stuck in a snowbank.

  He didn’t plan on getting stuck, though, nor did he anticipate losing his way. Tag had given him explicit instructions on how to find Val’s cabin. “It’s only about a mile from my property, Reed. She bought her land in the Spring Mountains about the same time I bought mine.”

  Darkness had fallen about the time he’d started the drive from Rumor to the Spring Mountains, and there was something eerie about being a part of a black-and-white landscape. Tag had also said, “If you’re worried about Dr. Fairchild, maybe we should call Montana Search and Rescue.”

  Reed had immediately nixed that suggestion. “I don’t think so,” he had responded, thinking Val would lay both of them low if they made a public issue out of his daring to think she might need rescuing. Besides, Reed had participated in several serious search and rescue operations, and making sure Val was safe really didn’t qualify as an emergency situation.

  “No, I’m sure she’s fine,” he’d told his brother. “I just don’t like the idea of her being out there alone.”

  And then, of course, Tag had asked questions about Reed’s connection to Dr. Fairchild, and Reed had given him the minimum information and gotten off the phone. Telling anyone, even one of his brothers, that he was smitten by a woman who wanted nothing to do with him was an embarrassing prospect, especially when he was still asking himself why he was so smitten.

  He was crazy as a loon to rush to the rescue of a woman who was probably doing just fine on her own, but there was always the chance that she wasn’t doing fine. Reed didn’t like thinking the worst about any situation, but doubting the danger of a powerful blizzard wasn’t smart. He had to wonder if Val had heard a weather report before leaving Rumor.

  And, of course, nothing else he thought about, not the storm or Val needing help, had the power to overwhelm the painful uneasiness that hit him when he asked himself why she would send him a provocative message and then leave town.

  “Damn,” he muttered, and made fun of himself by adding in a voice heavy with sarcasm, “Reed to the rescue of a woman who can’t stand the sight of him. You’re a damn fool, do you realize that?”

  Val was snug as a bug in her tiny cabin. She’d been keeping the flames hot and high in the fireplace. She sat with a blanket snuggled around her in a comfortable old chair in front of the fire, sipping tea and listening to the storm. As always when she was at her cabin, rain or shine, she felt a marvelous sense of peace.

  The electricity was still on, but she had placed candles and matches on almost every flat surface in case the power went out. She truly wasn’t worried. She had plenty of wood to keep the cabin heated and three huge bottles of water for bathing and cooking, as well as the bottled water she’d brought for drinking. She also had a two-burner propane stove—it had come with the cabin—and extra propane canisters, so if the electricity went, she would still be able to heat soup or cook something.

  She was all set for anything the blizzard might throw at her, and she enjoyed knowing she was completely alone on the mountai
n. The wind blasted the north side of the cabin every few minutes, but Val merely nestled a little bit deeper into her blanket, took a swallow from her mug of hot tea and sighed contentedly.

  But then she thought of Jinni, who was probably worried about her. Val really hated worrying her sister. She had absolutely no faith in that cellular telephone working in this blizzard, but she pushed aside the blanket, got up and took the phone down from the top of the refrigerator, setting it on the small counter.

  She had left the phone on, and she quickly punched in Jinni’s number. All she got was another message that she was out of the service area. Val plugged in the charger and put the phone into the slot, but it was useless in these mountains, among so many trees and in a storm.

  She was returning to her chair by the fire when she heard a discordant sound, one that didn’t fit with the storm’s normal growls. Was it a car? Some kind of motor? My God, was someone lost out there, driving unfamiliar, snow-covered roads, trying to find the way out of the mountains? There were so many little roads running this way and that, and it would be very easy for a stranger to get turned around and lose his sense of direction.

  Val hurried over to her front window and pushed aside the heavy curtain that kept out an enormous amount of cold. Peering into the storm, she saw a flash of light. Someone was out there! It was a vehicle of some kind, possibly with a panicked driver. She kept watching and realized that the intermittent flashes she saw were headlights.

  Val switched on the light next to the front door of the cabin. She would, of course, assist a bewildered traveler in any way she could. That could be a family out there, lost and frightened, a family with small children.

  “Oh, Lord,” she whispered, and opened the curtains so that as much light as she could provide would shine through the window and lead the driver to the safety of her cabin.

  In mere moments Val realized the vehicle had turned into her driveway. The driver had spotted her lights, and, undoubtedly relieved, would appear at her door seeking information, if not a place to wait out the worst of the blizzard.