by Jane Corrie
'I must say you had all the luck on your side,' she observed bitterly. `If Michael had been in the office he would have come with me. What exactly did you plan to do about that?'
`But he wasn't, was he?' he answered crisply, showing that he had not liked even the implication that Michael would have accompanied her. 'You don't think I left such a possibility out of my reckoning, do you? Jack Oates was due at Bathurst, wasn't he?' he asked softly. 'And as he has no liking for driving in bad light, it was obvious he would take his son along with him. In any case, I made certain he went with him. A friend of mine gave him an errand or two to do.'
Teresa had run out of questions after this last disclosure, and stared dully at the now low fire. The sound of the rain still pelting down outside seeped
through her and added to her depression. She had really had enough, and she desperately wanted to be alone to think things out. It was one thing to know that she was going to marry Carl, quite another to realise that she was being forced to marry him whether she liked it or not. She supposed she ought to feel proud that he had taken the initiative and given her no option, but there was so much more to it than that.
'I think it's time you turned in,' Carl remarked abruptly. 'You'll see things in a better light tomorrow. It's our future I'm fighting for, remember.'
Teresa did not answer, but continued to gaze into the fire, her tiredness patently obvious by the droop of her slim shoulders. 'It's going to be all right, honey,' he said gently. 'Come on, a good night's sleep is what you need. We'll talk it out tomorrow.'
He made a move towards her, and Teresa, terrified that he would try and take her in his arms, made an abrupt, almost shuddering movement and stood up. 'Perhaps you're right,' she said listlessly. 'I am tired.'
Carl's voice, with a hint of impatience in it, told her he had not missed her reluctance to accept comfort from him. 'I'll kip down on the couch,' he said meaningly.
Teresa nodded dully, and walked towards the door. As she reached it, Carl asked coolly, 'Would it upset your maidenly virtue if I brought you a cup of tea in the morning?'
She did look at him then, and all her unhappiness showed in her eyes as she shrugged uncaringly. 'I
don't suppose it would make any difference if I said yes, would it?' she answered flatly.
Her reward came with the blaze in his eyes at this forthright answer, and she walked out of the room with her head held high.
CHAPTER TWELVE
AFTER a quick shower, Teresa thankfully shut herself in her room and prepared for bed. The next item on the agenda was, of course, a nightdress, and she delved once again into the trunk which was turning out to be a veritable treasure chest as far as providing her with such necessary items as clothing of one sort or another. As she had not brought her handbag with her, deeming it unnecessary luggage when she had left the chalet, she did not possess a comb or a hairbrush, and breathed a sigh of satisfaction as she came across the pearl-backed toilet set she had bought for use on her honeymoon.
There were other things there, of course, bought for the same purpose, and Teresa knew no regret as she unfolded the tissue paper that protected her trousseau and chose a flimsy nightdress. There was nothing else she could use in any case; all the joy she had felt when she had packed the trousseau was gone, leaving not even a pang at its absence. Events had moved a little too fast for her to assimilate them, and all she could think of at that time was sleep.
The bed was as comfortable as it had looked, and as her head touched the downy pillows Teresa ought to have fallen fast asleep. But she found herself wide awake, too tense for sleep, and longed to bury her head in the pillows and release some of the tension out of her by giving way to tears, but she stoutly re-
fused to allow herself this luxury. Tears wouldn't help, and she had a vague idea that once she started to cry it would be a long time before she stopped.
Nothing, she told herself, was hopeless, there had to be a way out somewhere, and if she put her mind to it no doubt she would come up with a solution. She thought of Carl and what he had said about fighting for their future; well, she was fighting for their future too, only he wouldn't see it that way. His solution of going up north loomed more as a threat than a promise to her now, for she would be entirely cut off from even the few people she knew, and she wondered if Carl had given that much thought. But then he wouldn't, she thought miserably, he was only concerned about blotting out all traces of the Raffertys, past and present.
She turned restlessly on to her side; it was still hard for her to believe that he could be quite so ruthless, and yet he had been, leaving her no illusions as to why he had put her in such a predicament. These thoughts led to others, and her misery increased when she thought of the reaction her enforced stay at the cabin would induce from Uncle Patrick. Carl had not left her much pride, had he? It didn't matter to him that everyone would now be of the opinion that he had had to marry her. He was so intent on getting his own way that he had lost sight of this small but devastatingly important fact. In the circumstances, it was perhaps as well that they were going up north!
Teresa very much doubted if her uncle would even speak to her afterwards ... her eyes widened. Or would he? She sat up suddenly as the idea took
hold of her. She would tell him the whole story! Now why hadn't she thought of that before? He would believe it, of course ! And what was more, he would have a whale of a time recounting the story all over town!
For once, she thought sardonically, the feud was going to help her. It owed her that much at least. Her happy thoughts roamed on and in her mind's eye she actually saw her uncle regaling the latest dastardly act perpetrated by an Elton.
Her brow creased. Would Carl be prosecuted for abduction? If it were left to her uncle, he might very well bring charges against him, and she didn't want that at any cost. She sighed; it had been such a good idea too. No, there had to be another way, and her brow creased still further as she concentrated on the problem, then brightened again. All she had to do was get to her uncle first; tell him to say nothing until she had had a chance to explain things to him. She wasn't sure quite how she was going to prevent him from making a song and dance about it, but she was certain she could come up with a plausible enough explanation, given time.
These thoughts acted like a balm on her lacerated feelings, and within minutes she was asleep.
The rattle of a teacup placed on the bedside cabinet awoke Teresa the following morning, and as she had been dreaming she was in her old home, the familiar sound told her it was either a Saturday or a Sunday, for those were the days her mother would bring her a cup of tea in bed. Partially opening one eye, she stretched luxuriously.
'Don't do that!' said Carl warningly. 'Or I shall be forced to abandon a few of my good intentions.'
The words brought Teresa out of the dream state with a vengeance, and as she jerked awake, the knowledge of where she was and why she was there broke over her consciousness, and she sat up hurriedly, gathering the sheet close to her partially bared shoulders.
`And don't overdo it either,' he threatened, 'or you just might make me mad enough to teach you a lesson! '
Teresa looked at him, trying to gauge his mood. He had not been joking, she saw, for there was a tenseness about him that made her hold back any remark calculated to infuriate him. He was, it appeared, still smarting about what she had said when she left him the previous evening. Her eyes surreptitiously studied him. He had dressed that morning in a pale blue silk shirt and tan slacks, and was freshly shaven, for she caught the scent of his aftershave. His eyes met hers, and she looked away quickly and picked up her tea, murmuring, 'Thank you.'
Carl watched her for a moment or so and it appeared to Teresa that he had been half-hoping for a showdown then and there, and was a little put out because she refused to oblige him.
'Is it still raining?' she asked conversationally.
He nodded abruptly, then as if his humour had been restored, grinned at her. 'It's not let up all
night,' he told her, almost triumphantly she thought.
Teresa did not answer, but went on sipping her
tea. When she had finished he collected the empty cup and saucer, and to her relief walked to the door. 'Bathroom's free when you're ready,' he remarked airily, 'and breakfast in half an hour. So don't go back to sleep again, will you?'
Her eyes lingered on the closed door for a few minutes after he had gone. He had said that much as a married man might have done, she thought scathingly, as if it were all over bar the shouting. But it wasn't! It was only the beginning, as Carl was so fond of telling her, only not the beginning he had in mind! He didn't know it, but he had just lit a bonfire on the feud he'd hoped to bury!
On these rallying thoughts she leapt out of bed, and when she had showered and dressed she opened the window shutters and stood gazing out. There was a half-formulated plan in her mind to get away from the cabin before the arrival of her uncle. If only she could get back to the chalet under her own steam all Carl's well-laid schemes would come to nothing, for she could deny she had ever been here, and her uncle would back her up in this if she told him to. It all depended, Teresa thought, on the state of the van and whether it was still serviceable.
One look, however, sent her new-found spirits plunging to zero. It might have been better had her room not given such a clear view of the situation, for she could plainly see the van, now firmly embedded in thick swirling mud, and what had been a small stream had now swollen to a fast-moving river. Of the small wooden bridge she had crossed over there was no sign at all, and was presumably under a foot or so of water, probably more. Carl had chosen his time and territory well, she thought
bitterly—that was plan number one, well and truly abandoned!
'Admiring the landscape?' commented Carl, in the sort of voice that suggested he had a fair idea of what had been in her mind, and he confirmed it by joining her at the window and staring out at the van. 'Looks a write-off to me,' he said smoothly. 'I'll compensate Rafferty for it, of course.'
'Of course,' echoed Teresa with a glint in her eye.
Breakfast, surprisingly enough, was a pleasant meal. Carl correctly assessed Teresa's mood and set out to charm her into a sweeter disposition, and she responded favourably. She had by now convinced herself that all would be well and Carl's master plan just wasn't going to work, and she even felt a little sorry that she couldn't be more co-operative in this matter, but knew she could rely on her uncle to keep the flag flying.
When Carl produced what he called a 'games chest' a little later on, she brightened still further, for there had still been a lingering worry at the back of her mind as to how they were going to fill the day, and she eagerly agreed to settle down to a game of cards.
The day passed pleasantly without any mention of the previous day's happenings, and Teresa began to be lulled into a sense of quiet content. She would forget the troubles that beset them and enjoy what little time she would have in Carl's company. However, she found this was easier said than done, for there were times when she would find his eyes on her, and the look in them made her hastily revise her earlier ruminations, and she had to think of something to say to ease the situation. She asked
him about the station he had bought up north.
Soon he was telling her of the size of the ranch and how he would lick it into shape, and Teresa felt a traitor as she listened, saying nothing that could be held against her later. After a while she noticed that Sunset Ridge was continually held up as an example of what he hoped to make Targee, as the station was called, into. 'I couldn't hope to produce another Sunset Ridge,' Carl commented ruefully, 'but it will be a fine place when I've finished with it.'
Teresa was sure it would be and felt a little sorry that she wouldn't be seeing it, and rather wished she hadn't brought the subject up.
The rain stopped just after lunch the following day, and it took a little while for Teresa to realise it. They were playing a kind of rummy to ascertain who would do the washing up, and she was too immersed in the game to notice how quiet everything had gone. Carl, even though he must have known the deluge had stopped, did not enlighten her.
Gradually the peace outside seeped through Teresa's consciousness and she frowned as if trying to pinpoint its sources, and Carl, with a movement that showed his reluctance, got up and opened the window shutters.
`It's over,' she said in a hushed voice, unknowingly letting the relief creep into her voice.
`I'd say it was the start,' replied Carl, giving her an interrogating look as if he sensed her feelings. 'I'll give Rafferty four hours,' he said dryly, and this time the amusement was back in his voice.
Teresa glanced at her watch; that would make it
six o'clock before they could leave the cabin! It would seem more like eight hours! To be so near the end of her ordeal, and yet so far from accomplishing her goal, was a point she hadn't taken into consideration. She had somehow thought that once the rain eased up Uncle Patrick would have been right on the spot, although she couldn't imagine what he would do for transport. He would probably ask Michael or his father to bring him out there. Preferably Mr Oates, she thought worriedly, as Michael's appearance would most certainly bring out the worst in Carl ... And how was Carl going to get back? He had no transport there. She spoke her thoughts. 'How will you get back?' she asked.
Carl grinned at her. 'Jan, my foreman, will be on the spot as soon as possible,' he answered, added meditatively, 'Very likely he'll bring your uncle along with him.'
This did not suit Teresa one little bit, for she had hoped to keep the two sides apart until she had had a little talk with her uncle. The best she could hope for now was to be the first to get to him when they did eventually arrive.
'Shall we resume the game?' asked Carl dryly. 'Although I'm afraid you're going to be washing the dishes again! ' he added.
Teresa gave him an indignant look. 'I haven't lost yet,' she retorted quickly.
'Haven't you?' he answered in a soft voice that showed her he was not referring to the game.
She decided to ignore this taunt, and picked up her cards with a determined air.
Although she tried not to show it, she couldn't
help taking quick peeps at her watch as the hours ticked slowly away, and Carl, missing nothing as usual, observed casually, 'It might take a little longer.' His eyes met her startled ones. 'For them to get here, I mean. It rather depends on how soon that stream outside resumes its normal proportions.'
Teresa didn't quite get the connection at first, and her eyes said so. 'The bridge,' he explained patiently. 'It's submerged, in case you hadn't noticed.'
Just another little point she hadn't taken into consideration, she thought miserably, as she nodded her understanding of this and tried to keep her depression out of her eyes.
The four hours passed, and another half an hour, before the welcoming sound of a motor engine sounded in the distance. Teresa staring out at the direction from where she could hear the vehicle approaching, found her hands clenching into small fists. Although she thought she had relaxed during the card sessions with Carl, she must have been keying herself up to this point in time and was now extremely tense. She had to get to her uncle first, and woe betide Carl if he tried to stop her
With a sense of disappointment she watched the car come into view, for it was obviously not Jack Oates' or Michael's, but one she had not seen before. The sleek vehicle that was slowly but surely making its way along the thick, muddied track could only belong to Carl, and ignoring Carl's cool, 'What's the hurry? They'll have to stay put for a while yet,' she made her way to the front door and stood waiting until the car drew to a sliding halt next to the stream opposite them.
The first one out of the car was not unnaturally her uncle Patrick, who shouted across in a warring voice, 'Where is he? Come on out, Elton!' and seeming to notice Teresa standing there for the first time, shouted, 'Now don't worry, girl, I'll see he does right by you.'
Teresa stared at him i
n disbelief—if he meant what she thought he meant, he wasn't proving at all co-operative. 'Stop shouting, Uncle Patrick,' she said furiously. 'Do you want the whole town to hear you? We're talking this over in a civilised manner or not at all.'
Carl chose that moment to join her, and to her fury he slid an arm around her waist in an exceedingly possessive manner calculated to infuriate the already fuming man on the other side of the stream.
'Yell marry her, do you hear, Elton? Jist try and wriggle out, that's all. I'll have you up afore the beak, that I will ! ' shouted Patrick, and emphasised his feelings by shaking his fist in the air and jumping up and down in his righteous rage.
Teresa could have murdered him. A fine help he was turning out to be ! He was making the whole situation turn into something of a farce, and a very bad one at that, considering the role he had elected her to play, well, she wasn't in the mood for playacting( 'Stop it, do you hear ! ' she shouted at him, and glared at Carl, who just stood there thoroughly enjoying the play, as bad as it was!
Her look sent him reluctantly into action, and still keeping a firm hold on Teresa's waist, he drawled, 'You have my word on it. Now be a good fellow and wait until we can work out the details.'
His words had an instant calming effect on her
uncle, and muttering something under his breath Patrick got back into the car, and Carl's foreman got out. Almost as if he had been primed to stay out of the way until her uncle had had his say, thought Teresa furiously, and her fury mounted as the man called across to Carl. `I'd say in about another hour, boss,' he said, looking at the bridge that was just showing signs of emerging from the stream.
The thought of waiting another hour in those circumstances was more than Teresa was prepared to take, and before Carl had guessed her intention she had slipped from his hold and made for the bridge, one thought only in her mind; she had to make her uncle see sense, and she wasn't going to do it on the other side of the stream from him.
