by Gale Storm
A slow grin exposed his teeth under the beard. He pushed his chips beside hers. “I have the last raise, I believe.” His eyes narrowed as he reminded her.
Tarry studied him, knowing she didn't have enough money to buy further chips. “I—” He held up his hand.
“I will trust you, Tarry, if you want to match me with a promise instead of chips."
“A promise?"
“If you lose, you will have to listen to my proposal—all the way through. If you win, I promise to leave and never bother you again."
Tarry chewed her bottom lip. It was too good to be true, and yet it might be the only way he would leave her alone.
“Dwayne,” she glanced at her brother, “can I borrow...?"
“I'm surprised at you, sister of mine. You're the one that set the house rules, and you taught me better than to ever lend money during a poker game."
She flushed in annoyance then glanced at David. He shook his head. She studied her cards as she considered her choices. The odds told her that it was unlikely, in five-card stud, that Tyrone could have a hand that could beat hers. But if he did, what would she lose? Really, nothing. What was an hour of explanation time, compared to solitude?
“You're called with one condition. Once I make my final decision about the project, you won't harass me anymore."
Slowly, he lowered his cards. She felt a lump rise in her throat as she saw the first three aces, then a deuce, and she prayed that he didn't have four of a kind. But of course he did. She swallowed the lump and lifted her eyes to his face. His lazy grin disappeared into the beard. His eyes were serious.
She laid her cards facedown and shrugged. “Nothing like the luck of the Irish.” She hoped she hid the frustration in her voice.
“So much for bluffing, sis. Remind me never to try and outbid you, Tyrone. But of course I learned that in college. Tarry has always learned the hard way.” David poured brandy into each glass.
Tyrone lifted his shoulders and closed his eyes. “I never expected to win. Your sister has a great poker face."
“I'd like to say it runs in the family, but it doesn't. None of us boys ever had a chance against Tarry,” David asserted.
Tarry took a sip of brandy then stood up and walked to the couch. She wasn't about to take part in their admiration meet.
“I don't think either man or beast has a chance when it comes to Tarry. She's an angel.” Charley grinned at her as he plopped down beside her on the coach. “She has to be an angel,” he continued. “Who else could handle those ten dogs like she does?"
In spite of herself, she smiled at him. He was a nice man. It wasn't his fault that he worked for Tyrone. She clicked her glass against his. “I bet you say that to all the girls, Charley."
His brown eyes sparkled. “Actually, I don't often have the time to meet many girls."
She smiled. Yes, Charley was a nice man.
“Not since he got married, at least.” Tyrone sat in the lotus position on the rug in front of the fireplace, cradling his brandy. His eyes were hooded.
“Shucks, Ty, you didn't have to bring Ramona up. Tarry is the first pretty lady I've talked with since the wedding. I was just trying to make sure I hadn't forgotten how to pass the time with a pretty woman."
Tarry felt left out as David joined them, passing a bag of chips to Tyrone. She found herself brooding on the reason Tyrone would tease Charley about his recent marriage, and again she found herself unreasonably furious with him.
“If you gentlemen will excuse me.” Her voice was honey-sweet as she glared at Tyrone. “I'm tired. Goodnight.” She stood, meaning to make her way to her room. Tyrone was on his feet instantly.
“Are you feeling okay, Tarralee?” His voice was concerned. Her eyes collided with his.
“I'm fine, just achy. Goodnight."
He didn't accept her pointed statement. Instead, he touched her forehead. She instinctively jerked away from the cool touch.
“Your fever is back. Why didn't you say something earlier?"
“Tarry, is it true?” David caught her wrist, his hand replacing Tyrone's. “Tyrone,” he glanced at his friend. “She's as cool as a mountain stream."
“I thought so.” Tarry stepped around both men. Tyrone was instantly beside her, his steps matching hers. It was all she could do not to flinch away from his warm presence. He spoke softly.
“I'm worried about you, Tarralee, only because you don't worry about yourself. Are you really tired, or could we possibly talk tonight? I must leave tomorrow if the weather improves.” She cleared her throat and continued up the stairs. Her voice was low and controlled when she answered.
“Talk, but talk fast. I really am tired.” They entered the shadows of the upper floor. She realized belatedly that they were now alone. She stopped at her door, and he stood in front of her.
“You need your rest, then. What I have to say can be said tomorrow morning."
She faced him. “I won't change my mind. I told you, first impressions are lasting with me.” She thought she saw him smile.
“Did I tell you that first impressions are always lasting with me?” His hand rose and brushed her cheek. “I don't believe I'll ever forget mine of you and I know I would never want to.
She couldn't help the giggle that bubbled out of her throat. His exaggeration was as ridiculous as their whole relationship. If one could use the word “relationship” concerning him. He cocked his head as he listened to the lovely sound escape her throat.
“You find my impression of you humorous?” he asked.
“Of course, I do. It's about the worst exaggeration I've ever heard. There is nothing special about me, Tyrone. Everything about your coming here is absurd. Maybe that bullet lodged in your brain. You haven't been thinking straight since you fired the shot."
“You're right,” he agreed easily. “I have felt mixed up and definitely not myself since watching you with the dogs the other day. But, then, what should I expect? Since meeting you I have been thrown into a world as different from my normal existence as a brick in the ocean."
Tarry put her hand over her mouth to stifle the laugh that was about to break from her. “Now you're slipping into bad clichés, Mr. Shields.” She shook her head, watching his reaction with interest. “My, my, the great Tyrone Shields wielding clichés to impress a backwoods girl who hasn't the brains to come in from the snow. How the great have fallen."
She enjoyed baiting him. Actually, she found it intriguing watching his reaction to her barbs. Instead of taking her seriously, he met her bad humor at every turn with patience and good humor that amazed her. She couldn't help admiring this side of him. It was too bad that she found herself liking him, she decided. It made it much harder to continue with the aggressive charade.
His hand lifted and rested beside her shoulder. He leaned toward her. “Like a ton of bricks.” His voice was very soft, and suddenly the humor she saw in the situation disappeared.
She stared into his eyes, realizing too late he was serious. She hoped by making fun of him she would finally succeed in making him angry. He leaned closer, his face only an inch from hers. She hadn't experience enough to know how to coolly escape him, and she wondered at her lack of motivation.
“Tarralee,” he whispered her name as his hand touched the soft skin of her cheek. “I—” His thumb moved, resting lightly on her lower lip before his head dropped and he kissed her gently. His lips were the merest caress, as if he wasn't sure she wouldn't disappear if he pressed too hard.
She opened her mouth and felt his tongue gingerly experimenting with her response. She was shocked when the groan came from her throat. She pulled away instantly.
“Is this your way of convincing me?” Her voice was lower than normal, with a roughness that grated on her nerves.
“Convince you of what?” His breath was warm against her face.
“To join in your project, of course.” She tried to sound bitter but failed. His hand moved to the edge of her shoulder as he stared int
o her eyes. She could see a nerve jump at the side of his lip.
“Project?” He repeated as if he wasn't sure what she was talking about. “You mean the documentary?” His eyes narrowed.
“That, or your casting couch. I suppose it is normal for a man in your position to use sex to get his way."
His hand rose and ran through his dark hair, touching his beard as he backed away.
“You won't believe this, but I would never resort to that type of blackmail with you. You're too smart and courageous to ever try anything that shallow or stupid. I kissed you because I enjoyed it, because...” He paused.
“Because what, Mr. Shields?” she challenged.
“Because I'm physically attracted to you, Miss Roessel. Very attracted."
She couldn't prevent the warmth that flooded through her. If only she could believe him. He was fast becoming the biggest distraction she had ever dealt with. She knew it was mandatory for her to remain calm no matter what, but her heart was pumping so hard she could feel it in her throat, feel the butterflies in her stomach attack her solar plexus with an agitated flurry. Do something, say something smart and sophisticated, she thought wildly, so he'll back off.
She could hardly believe the thickness in her voice. “You're right. I can't believe you. It's absurd to even think that you would be interested in me. I'm completely ordinary compared to the other women in your life. My very existence is bland compared to yours. I'm—"
“Stop it, Tarralee, for heaven's sake. Haven't you ever looked in a mirror and smiled at yourself? Lord, woman, you're beautiful. I don't believe in false compliments, either, Tarralee. People who know me say I'm brutally honest. And your life...” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “How can you say it's ordinary? A Jane Doe could never get away with living on a mountain alone, training dogs with a fair share of wolf blood, raising a family. You're a unique, an amazing woman. I want you to participate in my film, but even if you don't, I want you."
Every nerve in her body tensed, her heart stopped then began a marathon race. Her mind worked rapidly as she realized he had backed her into a corner. How had it happened? She knew she couldn't fight him if he continued to make advances; his words were dazing. She'd learned to protect her family as a child. The lessons she'd mastered were her only defense against him now.
“Brutal honesty or brutal lies? How can I know the difference? You're like all the rest, aren't you, Tyrone? You'll say anything to get your way. But you've forgotten one important thing. I've had fifteen years to learn to protect my interests. I've been harassed by the very best, and I've always won."
“It must have been a lonely victory, then, Tarry."
She stared at him, her eyes suddenly moist. God, he was psychic. Somehow, he had found her one weak spot, and he had taken aim and hit bulls-eye with one shot. She turned her back to him. Her face touched the cool wood panel of her door.
“Good night, Mr. Shields.” Her voice shook as she turned the knob.
“Tarry,” he called softly, but she closed the door before he said more.
Chapter Five
Tarry was up before first light. She crept downstairs and out the door to the barn. She needed to be free of the hassle and problems that Tyrone brought with him. As she hooked the dogs to the sled, she admitted she was a coward. The word alone depressed her. She had always thought of herself as a pioneering spirit. A woman who could do anything she set her mind or body to. Unfortunately, she admitted to the dogs as she hooked them to the sled, the time to leave her winter wonderland was fast approaching. She didn't want to say the words aloud, but in her mind she acknowledged that Tyrone represented the change she knew was taking place in her life. Silently, she mounted the sled and headed down the trail.
When they reached the frozen lake streaks of light were breaking above the peaks. She inhaled deeply of the frosty air. God, it was lovely here. The fresh snow was so virgin; the air tasted delicious. The scene always brought her pleasure, and today was no different from the thousands of times she had come here seeking peace and serenity.
Yet the love she felt for it filled her with sorrow. She knew she was going to have to leave this wonderland. She recognized the realities and knew without a doubt that she couldn't fight her brothers or Tyrone. They were all right. She'd considered the options for herself over the past five years. She knew she would make a gifted vet, and toward that end she had laid the foundation, knowing the schools she could be accepted to with the least amount of hassle.
She broke through the snow as she found her favorite fishing hole. The dogs needed a new stew and she knew she could catch it in an hour. She glanced back at them. They were lying with their noses tucked into their tails. How could she explain things to them? How could she take all ten with her? The realities of their situation and her responsibility to them saddened her even more. She was unaware of the tears that slipped down her white face. She could not desert them; she would never do that.
She had caught ten fish when the idea came to her. She would sell the cabin and land, take the money and disappear into the wild lands of Alaska for a year. There she could have her freedom. The logistics were something that would require planning, but surely she could postpone her brother's plans by appearing to have made a decision about college. She had just caught the largest catfish when she heard the shiss of skis. The dogs were instantly on the alert, greeting the skier with yowls. She didn't need to look at Tyrone to who know it was as he stopped beside her.
“You're up early.” His voice was cheerful. He looked robust and healthy.
“Not really.” She kept her voice distant.
“Do you always fish at dawn?"
“No."
He wasn't fazed by her short answers.
“I've always enjoyed fishing when I've time. Unfortunately I rarely have the time for simple pleasures.” He continued as he scanned the shoreline, “It may be time I stopped and made the opportunity.” He was rubbing Rounder's nose, laughing softly as the other dogs tried to get closer to him.
“How did you do it?” Tarry faced him as she watched the lead dog's response to his affectionate touch.
“You mean making friends with them.” He laughed. “It was much easier than I thought. I watched you with them. Saw how loving you are, how you treat them as individuals. So, when I decided to leave the other day I went outside and let them realize I wasn't a threat to them by sitting in the snow outside their pen. I knew I only needed to get Rounder to trust me and the others would follow."
“You recognized that so quickly."
“I do have another confession. I've done research on wolves. It helped, and I've always been an animal lover.” Tarry turned back to the frozen lake. He was perceptive and sensitive. Of course, he would have to be to survive in his chosen field. Why hadn't she realized it sooner?
He went on talking as she remained silent. “I've spent the past four years researching everything I could find on wolves, crossbreeds and huskies. I have all the book learning but no practical experience, and you're the only one I've found who has that.” His voice was normal, and very close to her. She hooked another trout and flipped it into her basket before facing him again.
“What type of film are you planning?"
He didn't smile as she expected him to. Instead, he rested his weight on the ski pole and started outlining his dream.
“Wolves have been horribly misunderstood throughout the ages. They've been done a horrible injustice that is appalling. I want to take that history and erase the stigma and lies that have surrounded and haunted them for to long. I want to treat them as individuals. Let them prove through their interactions with each other, and humans, that they are an incredible, sensitive animal. Just as humans are incredible animals that are family-oriented and loyal."
“Some stories are true, though. There are bad wolves, just as there are bad people."
“Exactly. But that doesn't mean that every wolf is bad, or without feelings. From my reading I've come to admire
their intelligence, their strength, their sense of family. I feel by telling a story through film I can show them in their best light. I need help doing it, though. Expert help. You are the expert, Tarralee. You know how misunderstood and abused these animals have been. You love them and trust them. Don't you want to help them find a home in the wild again? A place that is natural, like God intended?"
“That's impossible.” Her voice was charged with emotion. “The few natural places remaining on this globe are so hemmed in by humanity that a wild creature isn't allowed to show his true nature and survive, because of human paranoia."
“Nothing is impossible, Tarry. There are parks, preserves, where wildlife thrives."
“Preserves, parks, wilderness areas, all controlled by mankind and politics, and each vulnerable and subject to the whims of economics. What makes you think mankind will ever change his greedy nature? They didn't for the ‘wild Indians'—humans; an animal who is just aggressive doesn't stand a chance against a gun."
“If everyone remains uneducated, Tarralee. Ignorance breeds further ignorance, you know. Then there really wouldn't be any hope at all. Your bitterness and pessimistic attitude surprise me."
Tarry, gripped the fishing pole tighter as his words hit a sensitive nerve. “I've always thought it was a realist attitude based on the facts presented to me from history.” It was rare, indeed, that she allowed herself to express the sourness she felt for most of humanity. Actually, she had never expressed it before to human ears, and she didn't understand why she had now. In an attempt to cover her annoyance with herself she said, “I still don't understand why you, of all people, would want to risk your reputation as a great film director on a pack of wolf-dogs."
He shrugged as he answered. “It really isn't as great a risk as you seem to think, Tarralee. I've done my homework, and I believe the public is ready for what I want to show them. Besides, nothing worth doing is without some risk. The fun comes from the challenge."
“Fun,” she repeated his word, turning and meeting his direct gaze. “I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by your perspective. You've never worked to survive, or to make a success of anything you've ever tried."
