by Gale Storm
“I doubt it. No one knew I was coming here except David. He'll know how the storms are and give a report when asked."
She cast him a doubtful glance as she took her first bite of the pancake. It was delicious, just as she suspected. Was there nothing this man could not do? Resentfully, she looked at her plate.
“The studios, your girlfriends, or..."
He laughed aloud. “If I'm not concerned, why should you be, Terry—uh, Miss Roessel? I don't currently have any deadline projects, and most of my acquaintances are used to my fits of creative idiosyncrasy. They won't be worried for at least a week.” He helped himself to a plateful of pancakes, pouring her homemade blueberry syrup over them. “I told my agent I was out scouting for new actors. He'll think I've gone to England, or Chicago. You don't have to worry about your reputation."
His voice was light, teasing, but her chin came up in defiance.
“My reputation...?” She met his faded eyes. “I think you might be worried more about your reputation. You have the reputation of being a pacesetter. The side of a mountain in a blizzard can hardly suit your usual style."
He licked the sticky syrup from his lips as he eyed her.
“You couldn't be more right. Although I've been known to make sacrifices when I'm shooting scenes for my movies."
Tarry felt a new wave of tension come between them and glanced away. She wasn't usually so sensitive to people. Yet, she knew beyond a doubt that he was testing the air between them, preparing to ask her again to take part in his project.
“Did you see Clay Maker?” He asked next, conversationally. She recognized the name of his Academy Award-winning film. He had written and directed it. She hadn't seen it. As a matter of fact, she had never seen any of his pictures. Her brothers, of course, had and had told her the basic plots. David often raved about his once-ordinary classmate's successes.
But she didn't have time for what she felt was trivial Hollywood glitter. Her interests lay with her animals and survival. She doubted whether Tyrone Shields had ever had a serious moment in his life.
“No,” she said flatly.
“Too bad.” Tyrone sipped his coffee as she reached for the teapot. “You would have enjoyed it, I'm sure. It was all about a young boy who—"
“Mr. Shields, I'm sorry to interrupt your reminiscing, but I feel I must make something clear. I'm not interested in your work, or your old or new projects. I'm not interested in leasing my animals for your film, nor do I like the idea of you in my house. You charged in here, and you're acting as if you own the place.” She pushed her plate aside. “Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to my room. I had a rotten night, and I'm still running a fever. You and this storm will prevent me from taking care of my chores today."
She pushed her chair back and stood; she didn't risk a glance at his face. His silence fell heavily behind her as she mounted the stairs.
She had been rude, uncharacteristically rude. Actually, she could never remember being so aggressive in her life. Her brothers would be shocked and annoyed if he ever told them. And of course, he would. She didn't doubt in the least that Tyrone Shields enjoyed talking about others as much as he seemed to enjoy discussing his achievements. She quickened her step as she heard the scrape of his chair against the wood floor.
“Miss Roessel.” There was command in his tone, and she stopped, poised with her foot lifted to the next step. He walked forward, stopping at the stairs. “Why did your parents name you Terry Lee?"
She turned and stared at him in surprise.
“What's odd about that? Why did your parents name you Tyrone? Parents often name their firstborn after the grandparents or their favorite dog,” she countered instantly.
His lips twisted in appreciation of her quick comeback.
“Does your family call you Terry, or Terry Lee?"
“Ask David. I'm sure he will tell you everything you want to know, Mr. Shields. Since I can see no reason for further delay...” She turned.
“Are you in pain this morning?"
She kept her eyes on the upstairs landing. “Not any more than you, Mr. Shields."
His eyes were boring into her back as she put her weight on her raised foot.
“Look, I never meant to hurt you, Terry. You have every right to be furious with me over what happened, but I—"
“Furious? I could kill you. Do you think excuses, or good intentions, or breakfast will ever make me forget that you could have killed Cedar or me? You're a spoiled playboy, Tyrone. You're a man who has gotten his way most of his life. I haven't time for your fake charm, or your ego. I would like to tell you to get out of my house and never return, Mr. Tyrone Shields, but since it isn't likely you could even make it a mile down the road on skis I won't throw you out to freeze, as I'm sure you would me if I showed up at your mansion and started shooting at whatever moved. Just leave me alone, and we will get along for the time you are forced to remain."
She turned her back on him and marched up the stairs. Why did he make her so angry, she asked herself as she slammed her bedroom door? It was irrational behavior on her part, and she couldn't explain it. Her normal good temper was gone, and she was fed up with what she considered his spoiled superstar ways. The venom she felt yesterday returned. She felt horrible and he was responsible. For the moment that was all she would allow herself to dwell on.
* * * * *
After soaking in the bath, she dressed in her long johns and cords. The crease along her side was inflamed, and the tiny hole in her side was painful when she pressed against it and fizzed with angry energy when she poured hydrogen peroxide over it. But it seemed no worse than many other abrasions she'd experienced through the years, she decided as she spread aloe gingerly along the cavity near her fourth rib. She vowed she would sleep tonight as she combed her tomboy hair away from her brow. It might help if she could take the dogs out for a run, but she knew better than to risk something so foolish in this weather.
Dressing in soft suede shoes and one of the boys’ sweaters, she finally decided to go downstairs and face Tyrone. She would apologize for her rudeness. He hadn't been trying to do anything more than be pleasant this morning in a very explosive situation. She was the fool.
The downstairs was empty. He'd cleaned up the morning dishes and put everything away. There was no sign of his jacket or his boots at the door. She checked outside to see his red Blazer remained stalled in the snow bank; his boot prints led to its door and then away. The wind had risen, and with it the sky had cleared. The temperature had dropped. Tarry went outside and tended her animals. She placed her hands under her armpits. Reentering the house, she completed her midmorning chores without any enthusiasm. Shivering, she clasped her arms under her jacket. In the house, she listened to silence. Was he upstairs in one of the rooms? She thought about searching for him but decided instead to build the fire for the coming night.
She curled on the couch in front of the fireplace with a cup of Earl Grey and waited for his appearance, snuggled in her favorite afghan. An hour later, she grew impatient and a bit concerned. The house was too quiet. She went up the stairs and peeked into each room, expecting to find him on an extra bed, sound asleep or reading. He was not anywhere. Tarry frowned, perplexed. She went back downstairs and searched for a note. Nothing. Gritting her teeth she dragged on her boots and her heaviest coat. In a few hours she would lose all light, and she knew enough about winter survival to know that if she didn't find him by dark his chances were nil.
Chapter Three
Tarry frowned at the sky as she stuffed her hands into woolen mittens. Where was he? She walked to the edge of the porch and saw tracks leading to his Blazer. Was he inside the vehicle? It was impossible to tell from this angle. The dogs joined her as she trudged through the deep snow. Arriving at the door she saw that he had been inside and his ski tracks explained his long absence. She stared at the tracks as they led her eye over the otherwise unmarred snow. What had he decided to do, ski back to civilization?
&nbs
p; She realized he had a six-hour start. By now he could be off the mountain, into town. It wasn't worth dragging the sled out and trying to follow him. Yet the bite of the wind sent a chill up her spine. Suppose he had fallen, or ... it was stupid to be concerned about him. He was a grown man, levelheaded for the most part, in top physical condition. If he were stupid enough to leave in a blizzard, so much for him.
Turning, Tarry decided to break the ice on the animals’ water bowls again and give them her personal goodnight. A half-hour later, she closed the barn door and heard a helicopter in the distance.
Strange, she thought. Shading her eyes, she looked over the snow-covered landscape to the treetops. The helicopter was very close, and from the sounds she suspected they were either searching for someone or flying low to avoid the thick clouds that blanketed the mountain peaks. It was unusual for a helicopter to be flying in winter at this altitude, so she assumed their mission must be a life-or-death matter. She finally picked the giant mechanical insect out as it skimmed the treetops just beyond her cleared land. Silently she sent a prayer for the safety of the people these brave men must be rescuing, then sent another for the safety of the rescue team.
She had aided in several searches for stranded hikers, lost hunters and the like, and she knew what was involved in the effort. She walked into the open area between the barn and house and gave a quiet order to the dogs to lie beside her. If the search team needed her, she wanted them to know she was available. The chopper hovered for a second above her, then moved to the right and lowered to the ground. Before it touched, Tarry realized that it wasn't the normal rescue chopper. Had the local communities banded together and purchased a new one? She hoped so, for everyone's sake. The old Bell chopper was inadequate for transporting an injured person.
The Jet Ranger whirled to the snow. Tarry held a hand in front of her face as the motor was cut and the blades slowly stopped their beating. When she opened them, it was to see Tyrone Shields drop to his feet and walk toward her. Her first reaction was one of surprise, then annoyance. What was he doing in the local search helicopter? Didn't he understand the danger the pilot was in flying at this altitude on a winter day?
She took an involuntary step backwards as Tyrone walked up to her, his blue eyes lit by a glow she took for mockery.
“Hello, pretty lady, ready for your ride?"
She squinted. “What the—?” She glanced at the now-silent chopper. “You're crazy, and selfish, and about as stupid as any man I've ever met."
She turned on her heel and would have marched away from him; but he caught her arm and twirled her back to face him, his arm at her waist as he held her still in front of him.
“I know you don't approve of me, Miss Roessel, but I would hardly call coming back to take you to the hospital selfish."
Only their parkas were touching, yet she could feel the heat of his body penetrate the fabric.
“What?” She stared, aghast at his words. “I will not go anywhere with you. I can't leave my animals."
He jerked off his glove and placed his hand against her forehead.
“You can and you will. You're running a fever; and if I can tell that here in the snow at twenty degrees, then when the hospital gets you, they'll have to pack you in ice. Be sensible, Terry, for heaven's sake. You need professional care. The animals will survive a few days without you."
“No.” She jerked away from him but he held on to her jacket.
“Terry, you little fool, it's too bloody cold to argue about it. Get in the chopper before I throw you in.” The dogs were growling now as his voice rose, but they didn't move.
“Let me go, damn you.” She swung her arm, meaning to slap him; but he anticipated her move and captured her hand, crushing her against his chest.
“I will not argue with you, nor am I going to waste any more time fighting.” He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the chopper.
“No, you can't ... Rounder,” she ordered her lead wolf, “Stop him.” The dog bared his teeth and charged forward as the other dogs stood and growled threateningly. Tyrone faced the dog with Tarry supported in his arms. Rounder hesitated.
“So, that's your name,” Tyrone addressed the male wolf in a caressing tone. “Are you really going to attack both of us, Rounder?” He dropped to a knee, balancing Tarry on it as he addressed the dog. Rounder hesitated and began to whimper as he looked uncertainly between Tarry and Tyrone. “That's a good boy, Rounder,” he coaxed softly. “Now, I'm going to take your mistress away for a while, but she'll be back when the hospital releases her. You take care of the place and keep Torpon out of the canisters, boy, and behave yourself."
With one graceful movement Tyrone hopped aboard the chopper and the door was slid shut as he dropped Tarry into a seat.
Tarry had watched his interaction with Rounder in speechless awe. How had he succeeded in counteracting her command to her best-trained dog? He had already secured the seatbelt before she protested.
“This is crazy, Tyrone. I don't need a doctor."
“Let's let a doctor decide that, Miss Roessel.” For the first time since she met him, his voice reflected his impatience with her. He moved forward and nodded at the man in the co-pilot's seat. “Terry Roessel I'd like you to meet Charley Rodes. Charley is a first-class pilot, and in twenty minutes he'll have us in the parking lot of the hospital. So if you don't mind we'll save conversation until we've landed."
Tarry pressed her face to the glass in vexation as the chopper roared to life. She looked below at her dogs, which were milling about uncertainly following the chopper toward the trees. She shut her eyes and groaned softly. She still couldn't believe he could subdue her dogs and whisk her off like this in the space of five minutes. She glared at the back of his head in suppressed fury. Just wait, she told herself, I'm going to get even with you, Mr. Tyrone Shields. You may think you can manipulate people, but you've never run into Tarralee Roessel before.
She was silent through the duration of the short flight. It would do no good to struggle or create a scene in front of his employee, because as soon as she looked at the inside of the chopper she realized Tyrone must own it. It was custom-crafted with plush leather seats and subdued lighting. If he could afford a chopper of this class, no wonder he thought he could manage everyone around him.
When they landed and cut the engines, Tyrone stood and faced her. Her eyes glowed with a deep inner anger. Her cheeks were flushed with color. He walked to her side, but as she remained sitting stiffly he leaned forward and clicked the seatbelt free, taking her hand. She instantly jerked away from him. He didn't comment, instead motioning her through the exit door Charley had opened. Tarry preceded both of them onto the pavement, only to be confronted by her brother David.
“You're walking?” David hugged her. “Thank God, Tarry. I got the message they were bringing you out by helicopter. Are you all right? What happened? You look awful, what happened, kid?"
David always talked in a rush, and he lifted her in his big arms and strode with her toward the emergency room door.
“Put me down this minute, David. I can walk. Until fifteen minutes ago I was taking care of the animals, for heaven's sake. If you want to know what's going on, ask your friend, Tyrone Shields."
Tarry's anger blocked her pain as she met David's darkened gaze without hesitation.
Tyrone walked beside David, who glanced at his former college mate, a frown between his eyes.
“She's running a fever. She ran it all night, and it worried me,” Tyrone said easily. “I wanted a doctor to look at her, so I skied out for help and called my chopper to air transport her to the hospital."
A nurse took her from David as they walked out of earshot. Tarry stared at the kind face of the man who was quickly hooking her up to a blood pressure cuff.
“I'm really okay,” she tried to assure him as he put a thermometer to her lips. “This is crazy."
“Most people think the same thing, Miss Roessel, when they're in an emergency room.
If you're running a fever, I need to tell the doctor.” He smiled as he touched the instrument to her lips. Tarry allowed him to place the plastic-sheathed wand in her mouth and silently made another vow to get even with Tyrone. She accepted that there was nothing she could do to prevent the inevitable now.
The doctor arrived and quickly checked vitals. Once he had examined the deep crease in her side and the miniature hole under her fourth rib and asked how long she had been running a fever, he ordered x-rays.
“I can't be admitted. I don't have insurance, nor do I—” Tarry protested.
“Doctor,” Tyrone walked into the room with David beside him, “I'm Tyrone Shields. Miss Roessel's bill is to be forwarded to my accountant."
Tyrone didn't even glance at her as David touched her hand.
“Tyrone explained about the accident, Tarry. Don't protest, you must—” her brother whispered.
“Doctor,” Tarry jumped from the table and faced the three men, “I may have a scratch that is infected, but has anyone checked Mr. Shields? He has a hole in his right shoulder, and—"
Tyrone was smiling at her as she ground to a halt.
“Mr. Shields was examined at noon, Miss Roessel, and received a few stitches only. You did an admirable job of caring for his injury. There was no infection in his case, but there is in yours. Come...” The doctor stepped forward and placed his hand under her elbow, supporting her as he walked her back to the table. “I'll send you to x-ray in just a few minutes, then you'll be in your room. Don't worry about anything now, just relax, and visit with your brother."
Tarry felt railroaded and grudgingly accepted the doctor's soothing words. She lifted her chin and encountered Tyrone's blue gaze. If there ever was a time in her life that she could injure someone, this was it. He was so arrogant, so self-assured, so bloody confident, so ... wealthy. She must find a way to get the best of him, but that would take planning. He was too sharp to make it easy. She bit her lip as she trembled in fury. Tyrone nodded at her and her brother and left with the doctor.
