Hold Back The Dawn

by Duncan, Judith

  Leslie wondered, too. One side of the bear's face had been blasted off, there were gaping wounds in its shoulder and one front paw was badly mutilated. The pain-racked animal was swinging its head in agony.

  Ted didn't say anything, but opened the truck door and lifted the leather rifle case from behind the seat. Leslie watched numbly as he removed the weapon and began loading it.

  "Hell, Ted—you can't get that bear from here," interjected Frank. "That's an impossible shot!"

  "Well, he sure in hell can't get across the river to get any closer," argued one of the other men.

  Ted didn't say anything but continued to load the rifle. He finished the task, then methodically wiped the lens of the telescope with the tail of his shirt.

  It was a nearly impossible shot, but Ted was an excellent marksman. An awful cold clamminess crawled down her spine as Ted looked at her, his eyes unwavering. Yes, Ted was an excellent shot—but Leslie was better, and they both knew it.

  Leslie was unaware of the sound of an approaching vehicle as Ted came toward her. The sun glinted ominously off the barrel of the rifle he held in his hand—her grandfather's rifle.

  "You have to put that animal out of his misery, Les. You know that."

  Leslie looked up at him, her eyes dark, her face tight with despair. Without saying a word she reached out and took the rifle from him.

  There was a murmur of incredulity behind her as Leslie walked over to a flat boulder and stretched out on it. With icy calmness she made the necessary mental calculations, judging the distance and the wind factor. Beads of perspiration appeared on her brow as she squinted through the telescopic sight. She wanted to be sick as the bear swung his mutilated head around and the full extent of its injuries was visible. She swallowed hard, then squeezed the trigger.

  She fired three rounds before the beast finally staggered and collapsed, its massive body crumpling like a rag doll. Leslie closed her eyes for a moment, her tense body motionless, then somehow she found the strength to get to her feet. She forced herself to smile at the stunned admiration and the words of congratulations that greeted her. Handing the rifle to Ted, she deliberately avoided his eyes. When somebody took her arm, she looked up numbly.

  Steve's grip tightened as he felt her stumble slightly. "I'd like you to ride back to camp with me, Les. There's a couple of things I want to talk to you about."

  Leslie nodded her head, and somehow managed to climb into the truck unassisted. Leaning her head back against the seat, she clenched her teeth together and closed her eyes. She would not be sick. She just would not.

  Nothing was said as Steve started the truck and waited for the other two vehicles to pull out ahead of him. They hadn't gone very far when Leslie opened her eyes. The ordeal wasn't over yet. She started to shiver violently, and she ground her teeth together as she tried to stifle a strangling surge of nausea.

  Steve glanced at her, then braked abruptly. He reached across the cab, but Leslie sprang out of the truck and bolted blindly into the underbrush. The brittle naked branches snagged her clothes and clawed at her hair, but she stumbled on until her enervated legs collapsed beneath her. She staggered against a tree and sank to her knees as the convulsions of retching sapped the rest of her strength.

  Steve's arm encircled her chest, supporting her slight frame, and his other hand held her forehead as spasm after spasm racked her body. When the turbulent heaving finally subsided, he eased her back against him. "Are you going to be okay?"

  When she nodded mutely, Steve lifted her in his arms. He carried her over to a huge old birch tree and sat down, his back braced against the trunk. Pulling a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket, he gently wiped her mouth, then brushed her hair back from her damp face. She could feel his breath against her temple as he nestled her body firmly across his lap. He pressed her face against the rough wool of his jacket, his arms cradling her securely against him.

  A shudder of revulsion rippled through Leslie, and the pressure of Steve's arms tightened more firmly around her. She was so drained, so spent, she could hardly speak. "Steve..."

  "Hush, Les. We'll talk about it later when you're feeling a little stronger." His voice was quiet and soothing, and Leslie finally allowed her trembling body to relax against his. The security and strength she was drawing from him eased the horror that had debilitated her. The smell of his pipe tobacco clung to his coat, and for some strange reason its aroma had a calming effect on her; she allowed herself to think of nothing else. She closed her eyes as the pressure of his arms increased.

  It was quite some time later that Steve spoke, his voice husky. "Leslie, I've got to get back to camp—I'm expecting an important call from Calgary, and I have to be there when it comes.''

  Leslie didn't want to leave the secure warm cocoon of his embrace, but he had other more pressing responsibilities to deal with. It took every ounce of willpower she had to disengage herself from his vitalizing strength and stumble to her feet.

  She had started to brush some dried leaves from her sleeve when her head began to swim again in a sickening gray swirling fog. She reached out in an attempt to catch herself as her legs gave way, but Steve caught her before she hit the ground. He swore softly as he forced her head down between her knees.

  "I didn't faint, Steve. My legs just—"

  Her weak protest was cut off abruptly. "Just sit like that and don't argue. You went as white as a sheet."

  Leslie sat there until the fog cleared. "I'm okay now. Really," she said at last. Steve watched as she slowly lifted her head and took several steadying breaths. She focused her gaze on a moss-covered rock until she was certain everything wasn't going to go into another spin.

  "I guess I'll have to try that again." She made a motion to stand.

  Steve's voice was oddly gruff as he caught her up in his arms. "I guess you won't. I don't think you have the strength to crawl out of here, let alone walk." His arms tightened around her protectively as he started walking back toward the truck, carefully avoiding low-hanging branches. The only sound was his even breathing and the crunch of crisp leaves and dried twigs beneath his feet.

  On the drive back to camp, he was remote and silent, his face an unreadable mask. It wasn't until they were a short distance from the rig that he finally spoke, his voice low. "That was excellent marksmanship, Leslie."

  "Thank you," she responded stiffly. She had no pride in what she had done. She had hated having to kill the beast—hated it.

  "You did what you had to do, even when it was distasteful to you. To do something like that takes courage."

  Looking out the window, she shook her head, her voice low and dispassionate. "It doesn't take courage; it takes skill."

  "Sometimes it takes courage to use that skill."

  "It was an act of mercy. If you could have seen how dreadfully it was wounded..." Her voice broke treacherously and she swallowed hard.

  "I did see, Les—I had Ted's binoculars."

  "It was so awful..."

  "You've never shot anything before, have you?"

  "No, only targets." Only targets. She had just shot something other than a target—and some of her innocence had died the minute she squeezed the trigger.

  Steve reached across the seat and caught her hand in his, his grip firm and reassuring. Suddenly things didn't seem quite so bleak. She looked at him and smiled weakly. "Thank you for playing nursemaid.''

  He glanced at her, his eyes softening as he smiled back. "It was my pleasure."

  He released her hand as he wheeled into the parking space beside his trailer. He switched off the ignition, then turned to face her. He looked at her seriously for a moment, then took both her hands in his, his voice husky. "Leslie, I need to talk to you—"

  The truck door was yanked open and Ted stuck his head in. "Steve, John's on the phone—he says it's important."

  Steve squeezed Leslie's hands before he swung out of the cab. Leslie watched him follow Ted into the trailer, her thoughts in a muddle. When she climb
ed out of the truck, she slammed the door somewhat harder than necessary behind her. Damn it, she wanted to know what he'd been going to say. She sighed again as she walked toward the geologist's shack. Well, at least he was talking to her.

  She clenched her hands as she recalled the feel of his arms as he carried her out of the bush. Yes, he was talking to her—but she wanted so much more than that.

  LESLIE LAY IN HER BED, vaguely aware of the steady throbbing of the rig as it drilled on during the darkness of the night. She blocked out the noise and instead focused her hearing on the wind that was whining desolately through the spruce trees outside her window.

  She had been in camp for ten days now, and day by day her job was falling into a comfortable routine. There had been a definite shift in the men's attitude toward her since the episode with the bear. She smiled to herself. There had even been a change in Frank Logan—he didn't grumble and mutter when she went over to the rig. Ted had teased her, saying that she might have lost the initial battle with Frank, but she had won the war when she shot the grizzly.

  She didn't know if it was the change in attitude, or if she was simply getting over her case of stage fright. In any case she was feeling more and more at home. Bit by bit, she was making her own space.

  Her own space—her own empty space.

  She sighed and rolled over on her stomach as she thought about Steve. She never had found out what he wanted to talk to her about. The call from John must have been very important, for Steve had left for Calgary immediately. And he still wasn't back.

  A concerned frown creased her brow. She had an uncomfortable conviction that something was wrong. Why had he gone to Calgary in such a rush? Ted was aware of what was going on, she suspected, but he had been very evasive when she had questioned him about it.

  Then there was the question of the other two rigs. They had been contracted from Alberta-based drilling companies, for Ramco's own rigs were involved in drilling programs elsewhere. From the timetable Ted and Steve had drafted, they should have been on location by now. Roads had been cleared into the sites, and the leases had been prepared, but no rigs had appeared. That puzzled Leslie. She didn't like the uneasy feeling that was nagging away at her. She didn't like it at all.

  She rolled over again as restlessness plagued her. Damn it, but she had to block the thoughts that were flooding through her mind or she would never get to sleep. Glancing at the luminous numbers of her digital clock radio, she groaned and raked her fingers through her hair. Ted was going back to Calgary the next morning, and he'd said he had strict orders from Steve that she was to take some time off now before the work load picked up. They were to leave first thing in the morning, and she would never wake up in time if she didn't get to sleep soon.

  As though drawn by a magnet, Leslie's gaze focused on the pictures of Steve that were sitting on the night table. She closed her eyes and concentrated on taking deep breaths, but her mind played tricks with her and memories of him came crowding in, igniting a warm yet empty ache within her. Those special memories would keep the loneliness at bay—at least for a little while.

  Leslie did sleep in the next morning, and she had to rush to be ready by the prearranged time. Finally, with her shoulder bag in one hand, her suitcase in the other and her jacket slung over her arm, she tore out of the trailer. She nearly dropped them all when she saw Steve's Blazer parked next to Ted's truck. He was back!

  And she was leaving—damn! As she walked over to Ted's, her mind was scrambling to come up with some logical reason why she couldn't go. There wasn't one single excuse—not one!

  As soon as Leslie entered Ted's cluttered office, she could feel the tension in the air. Steve sat straddling a chair, his arms draped across the back, his head resting on his arms. He was terribly concerned about something; that was obvious. She cringed inwardly when she considered how much responsibility he shouldered, and how everyone took for granted his ability to deal with a broad spectrum of problems. He was everyone's rock.

  Steve lifted his head and caught her watching him. For a moment their eyes locked and Leslie felt powerless beneath his spell. With a supreme effort she tore her gaze away from his, but the ache in her didn't abate as she felt his eyes linger on her. She felt so flustered when she was physically close to him, and she clenched her hands tightly in an effort to suppress the tingling sensation that was vibrating in her.

  Walking to the window, she stood staring out at the lights on the rig, which stabbed the early-morning darkness with piercing intensity. How would he react to her now, she wondered bleakly. He had been so gentle after she'd shot the bear, but that didn't necessarily mean he had forgiven her.

  There was a murmur of subdued conversation as Ted and Steve continued to talk. Leslie's stomach dropped when Steve finally stood up and moved toward the door. Please don't ignore me, she pleaded silently. Please don't.

  He stopped beside her and laid his hand on her shoulder, his tired face softening as he smiled down at her. "Have a good trip, Dwarf—and don't forget to come back."

  Relief flooded through her as she smiled back at him, her voice slightly breathless. "I'll be back."

  He slipped his hand along her shoulder, his warm touch exciting her. "Good." Swiftly and unexpectedly, he bent over and kissed her, then turned and left.

  Leslie was cemented to the spot as a warm glow grew within her. She took a deep breath to ease the suffocating tightness in her throat, then turned to face Ted.

  He was staring unseeingly at the jumble of papers on his desk, his face creased with a troubled frown.

  "What's the matter, Ted?"

  He raised his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "Nothing that concerns you, girl."

  She walked over to the desk and picked up a pen, twisting it between her fingers. Her face was contemplative. "It's obvious that something is very wrong. Steve looks like he's under tremendous pressure, and since I know there're no major problems with the drilling program here, it has to be something else." Ted remained silent and Leslie stared at him, her eyes narrowed, as she continued to toy with the pen. "Why aren't the other two rigs on site, Ted?"

  As she watched him, she tried to pick up a clue in his expression. Almost immediately a cold unpleasant speculation forced all other thoughts from her mind. She continued to watch Ted closely as she played her hunch. "It has something to do with Denver, doesn't it?"

  His head jerked up and he stared at her, obviously confounded at her unanticipated question. His reaction was a total giveaway. Alarmed, Leslie sank down onto the chair Steve had vacated, her knees suddenly weak. So Luther was up to his old tricks. She tossed the pen on the desk angrily and locked her entwined fingers around her raised knee.

  "I think perhaps this does concern me, Ted. After all, Luther is more my affair than anyone else's."

  Ted shook his head slowly, and he heaved a weary sigh of resignation. "Luther found out, one way or another, that Ramco has bought up the leases in this area. He made a public announcement a couple of days ago stating that Denver Oil released all of its landholdings in this area because their extensive exploration program here was completely nonproductive."

  "But that isn't true. Denver didn't have an 'extensive exploration program' here. They only drilled four wells and they weren't even looking for gas "

  "I know. I know, Les, but Luther isn't exactly honest. We both know that. Besides, he's always had a grudge against Ramco—that's why he was so damned anxious to take them to the cleaners in South America. He'll do anything he can to make them look bad.''

  "How can he have any impact on this project? He can't touch them now."

  "Not directly, maybe. But indirectly he's managed to box them in a corner. He's put out the word that anyone investing in a wildcat operation here would lose their shirt."

  Leslie's alarm turned into a cold sinking feeling. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.

  Her voice was flat and clipped with controlled wrath. "Ramco overextended its budget
for this project by purchasing rights for all that additional land. Because of Luther's underhanded scheme, Ramco can't secure the extra financial backing they need to carry out the exploration program—that's the picture, isn't it? That's why the other rigs aren't on site, right?"

  "In a nutshell."

  Leslie felt sick. Luther Denver had deviously out-maneuvered them with his usual subterfuge. His vendetta seemed so pointless, too. Yet there had to be a reason; there was always a specific motive behind everything he did.

  The only thing that possibly made sense was that Luther was trying to force Ramco into releasing some of its landholdings. And the only reason he would do that was if he had changed his mind about the potential for Redwillow. Yes, that reasoning would definitely explain Luther Denver's scheming—he wanted back in.

  Leslie's eyes narrowed in concentration as she mulled over her rationale again, trying to find a flaw in her logic. But there wasn't any.

  "He wants in here, Ted." Her voice was strong with certainty. "For some reason, he's changed his mind about the deep-basin theory, and he's trying to force Ramco into selling off some of the leases. He's trying to muscle his way back in here."

  Ted pursed his lips and frowned, then scraped back his chair and stood up. He began pacing back and forth, his arms folded across his chest, his head bent in concentration as he considered Leslie's theory.

  He stopped in front of her and slowly nodded his head as he stroked his chin reflectively. "That would certainly explain everything. I thought he was just being a miserable bastard, but I think you're right. He's trying to force Ramco's hand." Ted flipped his jacket off the hook by the door and put it on. "I'm going to talk to Steve about it—"

  "No!" Leslie jumped up from her chair and caught his arm. "No, Ted, don't. Just listen for a minute. Why don't you see what gossip you can pick up on the grapevine while you're in Calgary? You have contacts everywhere, so you should be able to dig up some information that would make this an explanation instead of speculation. We could be a mile off base." Leslie knew they weren't; she had never been more certain about anything in her life. She had to stall Ted, however. There was an idea developing in her mind, and she needed time to think about it.