by Sandra Clark
Desperate now to find out where she was, she managed to keep her balance long enough to have a look round. With a shock of surprise she saw that she was on a large sled. It was being pulled along at quite a pace by a team of a dozen or so huskies. The soft swooshing sound that had reminded her of skis was the sound of the runners over the ice. It was very soothing. She flopped down again, surprised at the heaviness of her limbs, but in a moment she was raising her head yet again. So far she hadn't been able to see who was driving the sleigh, but when she managed to edge herself round a little, she found she could lift the flap of her hood and take a peep from beneath it. Taqaq was sitting on the board behind her, a passenger, it seemed, like herself. He noticed at once that she was awake and she saw the brief flash of his teeth as he smiled down at her. The driver was standing up on the transom behind him, a long whip flicking expertly over the backs of the dogs in front, and Taqaq called out something in Eskimo to him.
Belinda relaxed back among the furs. So they were safe. The dreadful nightmare about the pack of wolves had been just that, a dream and no more. She gave a shuddering sigh of relief. Obviously some of Taqaq's relatives had come out to meet them and this was the sled transport he had promised. It was certainly fast! The driver was forcing the team on at a terrific pace. They would soon be in the camp and she would be able to start work on her assignment at last. She hugged herself with excitement. She was going to do it! At last she was going to do it—despite the opposition. It was certainly a turn-up for the books getting a lift in what looked like a desolate waste land. Mac had told her that whole families lived out here, seeking a living from the land, but after yesterday's blizzard she found it hard to believe that there was a living soul within a thousand miles. She lay back contentedly.
It wasn't many minutes before the driver was giving a guttural cry of command to the dogs and the sled began to slow. In another moment it had come to a skidding full stop and the driver was getting down. Belinda once more struggled into a sitting position, still puzzled by the strange heaviness in her limbs.
There were no particular landmarks in sight. They seemed to be still in the middle of nowhere. I expect the camp is over the brow of a hill, she thought. She pulled her hood a little closer. The wind was as penetrating as ever. Now, however, there was no falling snow to contend with.
Taqaq said something to the driver and got up off the sled. Belinda watched the two men walk a little way into the snow. One of them bent down and she saw that he held a kind of stick in his hand which he thrust deep into the banked snowdrifts. The other man said something and the taller of the two stood up.
The thought flicked into Belinda's mind that there was something familiar about the man with the stick, but after her previous night of slightly delirious dreams she put it down to a mild recurrence of the same thing. Then the man turned and walked straight back towards her. The long fur of his hood partially obscured his face and it was still dark, but there was no mistaking the set of those broad shoulders, the easy athletic movement of the limbs, as he made his way over the ice towards the sled.
The icy hand of fear clutched her heart. It must be a bad dream!
Belinda watched fascinated as he approached, not wanting to believe the evidence of her own eyes. There was no way it could be him. Not here. She was having another bad dream. She would have pinched herself to make sure she was awake if he hadn't come right up to she sled. Then there was no mistaking the reality of the situation. He threw down the snow stick so that it clattered against the wooden board on which she was lying, then without taking any notice of her he walked round to the front of the sled where he began to unfasten the harnessing of the dogs. Still without speaking to her, but very definitely no figment of the imagination, he led the brutes away from the sled. Leaping and yapping around his legs, they were tied to a stake and he started to throw some hunks of meat to them. That quietened them down and, still without even looking at her, he came back to the sled. When Taqaq made his way back too Belinda was still sitting, half lying, speechless, not quite believing her eyes. She watched him take a knife from the bundle of equipment before rousing herself enough to call his name. 'Taqaq!' she called.
'O.K. now?' he asked with concern showing briefly in his face. She looked askance at him.
'What's that man doing here?' she asked, not even trying to keep the note of dismay out of her voice. Taqaq looked back to where Barron had gone back to busy himself with the dogs.
'Amaruq?' he grinned. 'Lucky for us, eh?' He reached down and freed the knife from its fastening, then with no more word of explanation he made his way to the place where Barron had plunged in the snowstick and started to hack at the ice. Belinda lay back with a sense of defeat. Would this man stop at nothing in his determination to prevent her meeting with the Nasaq? Why was it so important to him? She pulled herself bolt upright. She still felt vaguely groggy. Everything seemed swimmy as if it was all taking place at a distance. She felt no need for constraint or pretence now. This was open war. Her anger made her call out peremptorily to Barron, using his English name.
He heard her. He must have heard her, she noted irritably, but he didn't at once lift his head. It seemed to Belinda that he was deliberately taking his time over his chore with the dogs, and she stifled a cry of irritation.
This time she would not lose her temper. But she would find out just what he thought he was doing here—what right he thought he had to interfere with her work, driving up out of nowhere with his rabble of half-wild mongrels, scaring her half to death so that she actually passed out in the snow.
She paused, bothered by this.
It was the first time she had ever fainted in her life. She called out again, and started to get out from beneath the piled-up skins. Barron turned then and loped swiftly over to her. His face was unsmiling as he approached. There were no words of greeting on his lips. Belinda stifled a memory of how they had felt on her own, and a flicker of resentment showed in her face. 'You!' she said. He stood, unspeaking, by the side of the sled. 'Would you mind telling me what's happening?'
'Do you want something?' was his reply.
'I want to know what's happening,' she repeated. 'Why you of all people? Where have you brought me? What are you doing? Why have you unhitched the dogs? And what is Taqaq doing?'
'Steady on!' he said, lifting one of the skins back to tuck it in round her legs.
'Don't do that!' she almost shouted, pushing the skin off again. 'What do you think I am, an invalid or something? I demand to know what's going on!'
Barron gave her an ill-concealed look of something like contempt and began to walk away. Belinda at once swung her legs down off the sled, letting the skins fall any old how on the snow. She took a step forward, determined to make him stop and give some account of himself, but suddenly, as if from nowhere, the snow seemed to come up and hit her hard in the face. The next thing she knew she was being bundled up in the furs again and strong arms were holding her struggling ones still. She was dumped unceremoniously back on to the sled. When she opened her eyes she was looking into the disturbingly blue ones of Barron. His face was too close for comfort. She tried to struggle free, but he held her tight and she could feel the warmth of his skin on her cheek. With a little twist she managed to turn her face away, but her hood slipped back and she felt his face pressing into her hair. 'What on earth are you doing?' she shouted, twisting and turning angrily.
'I'm trying to get some silly girl back on to the sled where I put her in the first place. And,' he paused dangerously, 'if she doesn't stop being such a flaming nuisance she'll have to have a good hiding like any other misbehaving animal!'
'I'm not the one who's misbehaving!' she flared. 'Get your hands off me! You—you—'
'Desperado?' he offered drily. 'Barbarian?'
'It's better than carrion or commodity anyway,' Belinda whipped back.
'So that's what's bugging you,' he smiled easily. 'Rash words in the heat of anger. Don't you ever forgive and forget?'
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'Not when you meant every word of it,' she replied, suddenly weakening beneath the amused glint in his eyes. 'Anyway, you still haven't answered any of my questions. And I don't see why I should do as you say. Who do you think you are?'
'I thought you knew that,' he said amusedly, ignoring the first part of what she'd said. 'I'm Amaruq.'
She gave a short laugh of derision. 'Of course! Still playing at Eskimos,' she retorted. 'I'd forgotten.'
His face looked stern. 'Don't for one minute think this is anything like a game.' His eyes had taken on the hard look she had seen earlier. He gripped her by the shoulders. 'This is no game.' She shivered as he repeated the words with more intensity. 'Stay where I put you.' He pushed her back among the furs, and she felt too weak to resist.
For a moment his glance held hers, then he reached into a bag and brought out a bottle of something. She couldn't see what it was, but he forced it against her lips as if to make her drink from it.
'I won't! I won't!' she cried, twisting and turning again. 'I won't be made to drink. I won't!'
'Please yourself,' he said easily, putting the bottle to his own lips. He drank deeply, then went over to Taqaq and offered the bottle to him. Taqaq drank, wiped the neck and handed it back. Lazily Barron came back to the sled and put one foot on the outer edge. He thrust the bottle into Belinda's hands. 'I don't know what you're bothered about. Do you think I'm going to drug you and then rape you? It's only a fruit syrup.'
His look told her he thought she was a stiffnecked little fool. She felt suddenly small and weak and very helpless, and to her dismay, tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. She tried to turn her head away so that he wouldn't see them, but he was too sharp for tricks like that. 'What's the matter?' He peered closely into her face. 'Aren't you feeling better?'
'I'm all right,' she said in a small voice. 'There's nothing the matter with me. It's just—it's—'
'Yes?' he urged, and she looked up. Barron's face seemed momentarily full of concern. A trick of the light, she thought drily with a flash of her old spirit. 'What's the matter now?' he asked more brusquely.
'I'm sick and tired of being bullied by you,' she said in a tight little voice. 'Everywhere I go, you seem to be there, laying down the law, telling me what to do, telling me what to think, trying to stop me from doing my job.'
'Don't you think you're exaggerating all this a bit?' he asked.
'No, I don't!' she exploded, blinking the tears away. 'Who told Sanderson not to help me?' She paused, her eyes searching his face angrily. When he didn't reply she went on: 'Here I am, miles from anywhere, and who should come pounding over the snows with a team of highly dangerous and no doubt rabid dogs but you! It's impossible!'
'That team of possibly rabid dogs,' he broke in drily, 'has also possibly saved your life.' And before she could explode in disbelief, he went on, 'And if you will set out on these ill-planned and ridiculous expeditions, you can expect more than just me and my dogs to come to the rescue. Tomorrow at first light I can guarantee at least one plane from the R.C.M.P.' He looked down at her sternly, his hands thrust under his armpits in an attempt to keep them warm, his eyes for once serious.
'The R.C.M.P.?' repeated Belinda weakly. She had a brief vision of a horde of red-coated Mounties in broad-brimmed stetsons, galloping to the rescue over the distant horizon. She let an uncontrollable giggle escape her. It owed more to fear and weakness than amusement, but she leaned back anyway, tears of another sort crowding her eyes.
'Blow me, what's up now?' demanded Barron roughly. 'First you pass out at the sight of me and my dogs, next you——'
She stiffened. 'Don't flatter yourself! How was I to know it was only you?' she demanded scornfully. 'I thought it was a pack of wolves bearing down on us. All Taqaq said when I asked him what it was, was "Amaruq"—what else would any normal person be expected to think in the circumstances?' She looked at him through glistening lashes.
'It depends on the context that a normal person would find themselves in,' he replied patronisingly. His even white teeth revealed themselves briefly in a smile. 'I'm sorry I frightened you, though. I thought you'd passed out in the excitement of seeing me.'
'Ha!' Her laugh was full of scorn.
'You're far too changeable for your own good, you know,' he looked serious for a moment. 'Now tell me something, are you going to do as you're told and stay wrapped up till we've finished?'
'Finished what?' she demanded. Barron gestured towards Taqaq. Already he had made several blocks from the hard-packed snow and had built them into the beginnings of a wall. 'What's he doing?' Belinda asked cautiously.
'It'll be a snow house. Sorry about this—it looks as if you've got to go native for a couple of days.' He made as if to go.
'What did you say?' she demanded, jerking herself upright again. Barron walked away, deliberately, with only a brief backward glance. She half rose, intending to go after him, but remembering what had happened last time, she paused. He was quick to notice anything she did and turned round as if guessing her intention. 'Anyone who gets off that sled without my permission gets a hiding,' he warned. 'It works for dogs, there's no reason why such treatment shouldn't work for disobedient humans too.'
An uncontrollable fury rose in Belinda, and her fists bunched helplessly in their mittens. 'I hate you!' she stormed. 'I think you're the most ill-bred, arrogant, presumptuous man I've ever met!' She pounded the side of the sled with her fists. All Barron did was burst into peals of laughter, and with his own long snow knife he joined Taqaq in cutting out more blocks of ice for the snow house.
Despite her fury, Belinda felt vaguely relieved that she was not expected to muck in. It was true she felt weak and slightly dizzy. Waves of cold kept making her teeth chatter despite the furs and she wondered if perhaps she had hit her head on something the first time she fell. It was so unlike her to be ill that she tried to brace up, and surreptitiously took a drink or two from the bottle of fruit syrup. But it did no immediate good, and she turned her back on the two men and pretended to sleep.
Perhaps sleep did steal over her, for when she next came round, she could hear the two men talking quietly somewhere close at hand, so that when she turned over to have a look at them she was met by the sight of the completed house. It was only small, but the men must have worked hard to finish it. Belinda lay resigned where she was. Still weak, she was beginning to think that she had better do as Barron said, because if she didn't she had no doubt that he would carry out his threat to chastise her. He has no respect for anyone or anything, she thought bitterly. It's a good job Taqaq is here. At least I can rely on him to see that Barron doesn't overstep the mark. Noticing some movement from the sled, the two men came over.
'You can get down now,' said Barron, switching into English. 'Can you walk?'
'Of course I can walk,' replied Belinda in surprise. 'Why shouldn't I be able to?'
'You were a little dizzy last time,' he replied casually. 'It's usual in cases of hypothermia.' He made as if to help her.
'Wait a moment,' she broke in. 'Hypothermia?'
'You're not tough enough to spend so long out in a blizzard,' he said. 'Your body hasn't yet adapted to the cold. It's Taqaq's guess I came across you just in time.' He put an arm under her shoulders and shushing her flood of protestations, lifted her easily and carried her towards the snow house.
'I don't know what you're talking about, but I hope you'll explain soon,' she said.
Barron tightened his grip for a moment. 'Wait until we get inside. You always need to know the whys and wherefores at once,' he told her critically.
'Naturally,' she retorted with as much spirit as she could muster, 'because there are such a lot of unexplained whys and wherefores whenever you seem to be around.' She stopped talking long enough to crawl in through the entrance as he instructed, then she turned to him expectantly. He shushed her again and made her wrap up in the furs from off the sled. Then he lit a small heater and set up the stone lamp to one side so
that his face was illuminated fully in its steady glow. Gone was his sneering look of previous meetings and when he turned the full gaze of his blue eyes on her Belinda was struck by an unaccustomed look of something like gentleness in their depths. She shivered as he eased his muscular body into a sitting position and when he was comfortable he returned her glance with some amusement. 'I guess you have a right to a few questions,' he told her, 'whether you have a right to any answers remains to be seen.' Belinda bit off the words of protest that naturally sprang to her lips and instead managed a wan smile.
'Tell me about the hypothermia first,' she asked in a small voice.
'When the temperature of the body core drops below a certain level a feeling of lassitude and lightheadedness ensues,' he replied authoritatively. 'If steps are not taken immediately to bring the temperature up to normal again, eventually death will follow. Recognise any of the symptoms?' he demanded.
Belinda gave an involuntary shudder. 'But I didn't feel cold once we started walking,' she said. 'It wore off.'
'Precisely,' he said. 'That's one of the dangers. Once thoroughly chilled, the body no longer responds in the normal way.'
'I have been feeling rotten, sort of heavy and sleepy—'
Her teeth still chattered uncontrollably every few minutes. 'I suppose I have to thank you, then,' she spoke quietly. 'It was lucky you turned up. Or was it only luck?' She waited expecting some sort of explanation, but instead he looked serious.
'You certainly gave Taqaq a fright,' he told her. 'He thought you were coping all right until you suddenly passed out. He had the fright of his life. He said he's not used to people keeling over without any warning. When I saw what had happened I gave him a bawling out as well. Good job he's an equable sort of bloke. You ought to say something to him,' he added on a more sombre note, 'he's feeling bad about it.'
'I will, I will,' she nodded eagerly. 'He's been nothing but kindness to me.'
