The Replacement

by Anne Marie Duquette

  Eric shook his head. “I wouldn’t bet on it. He knows his way around too well for that. He’s probably waiting out the storm in some shelter. They’re listed in all the park maps. Maybe the museum—that’s the building closest to his original igloo.”

  “Too bad he didn’t use it before his daughter’s feet froze. That pathetic excuse for a father deserves a public flogging, bringing a child out here. Or worse.”

  “Finding him’s my job. You worry about Pam—and yourself.”

  Naomi suddenly smiled. “Remember when we were little? We’d talk about growing up and having our own kids. I was going to have twin girls, and you were going to have—”

  “Twin boys. I remember.”

  “I always felt bad that Bruce and I never had any children after we got married, but he wanted to wait. He waited himself right into the cemetery.”

  “Getting a bit morbid, aren’t we?” Eric said in a soft voice.

  “Hell, yes….” Naomi’s voice broke, and she finished on a whisper. “I don’t want to die, twin. Not like this….”

  “You won’t,” Eric said fiercely, praying he was right. “I promise I’ll get you out of here.”

  KEITH FIDDLED WITH the rangers’ ham radio, trying to get through, but having no success. Lindsey watched him from the kitchen area.

  “No luck?”

  “None. Storm’s messing up transmission. Damn! Eric wanted me to check with the police and see if Wilson has a rifle registered in his name. Pam didn’t think so, but she didn’t know for sure.”

  “Eric never did leave anything to chance,” Lindsey said.

  Keith shrugged, then turned down the squeal of the radio, leaving it on, but without the static. “When’s dinner ready?” he asked with the ravenous appetite of most people in cold-weather areas, where abundant calories were needed to keep the body warm.

  “An hour. You want me to fix you a snack? There’s fresh coffee, too.”

  “No, I can wait.” Keith glanced at the closed door of the women’s bedroom. “They’ve been in there a long time,” he observed. “I hope she isn’t feeling worse.”

  “Naomi’s keeping her fever down with Tylenol and wet compresses. I hope she doesn’t lose any toes. Frostbite’s always tricky to assess.”

  “I didn’t mean Pam. I meant Naomi. How’s she doing? Do you think she has cancer?”

  Lindsey blinked with surprise at Keith’s bluntness, and at something else she heard in his voice. “You’re in love with her,” she said, her words a statement, not a question.

  Keith’s smile was bittersweet. “Yeah, but the opposite isn’t true. Still, if Naomi has cancer…I’d trade places with her in a minute if I could.”

  Lindsey fixed two mugs of coffee, and took Keith’s over to the desk where he still sat. She chose her favorite spot on the hearth, Ginger at her feet, and Keith continued.

  “Of course, I don’t have a chance in hell. When she’s not carrying a torch for her dead husband, she’s always with Eric. It’s like they’re joined at the hip. You don’t know how many nights I’ve wished him a million miles away.”

  Lindsey nodded. “Been there myself.”

  “How did you stand it?” Keith asked.

  It was Lindsey’s turn to shrug. “Without going into detail, let me just say that Naomi wasn’t our only problem.”

  “Eva had her dog, Naomi and Eric have each other, and I’m tired of talking to the trees. You might as well know, I’ve given Eric my notice.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” Lindsey knew some rangers couldn’t handle the solitude of a remote station or the lack of contact with other people. Not everyone was cut out for a life of isolation and winter hardship. “So you’ll be leaving when this crisis is over?”

  “I hope to escort Naomi out of here. She—and Pam, if she goes—will need protection.”

  “You don’t think Eric would want that job?”

  “I’m hoping he’d rather chase down Wilson. I’m a good shot, but he’s better.”

  Lindsey was silent for a moment. “He’s got a lot of tough decisions to make. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.”

  Keith looked at the closed bedroom door again. “Right now, I would.”

  A few minutes later Eric returned to the main room.

  “What’s up?” Lindsey immediately asked.

  “Pam still has a temperature. Naomi’s watching her.”

  “How’s Naomi?” Keith asked.

  “Biting the bullet. She’ll join us with Pam for dinner.”

  “If there’s anything I can do for either of them, just let me know,” Keith said. “FYI, I couldn’t reach the police on the radio. There’s still too much interference from the storm. I’m off for a quick load of wood before it gets dark—just in case the generator gives us problems and we have to stoke up the woodstove. The fireplace won’t be enough to keep the bedrooms warm.”

  “I’ll help,” Eric said.

  “No. You stay,” Keith replied abruptly, hurrying away from them both.

  After Keith had dressed and left the cabin, Eric wondered aloud, “What’s with him?”

  “He’s worried.”

  “We all are,” Eric said impatiently.

  Lindsey chose her next words carefully, not wanting to betray a confidence. “He’s especially worried about Naomi. Said he hopes you’ll let him escort her out of here when she’s ready to go.”

  “Why would he assume I wouldn’t?”

  “I didn’t say he assumed. I said he hoped.”

  “But—”

  Lindsey gave up trying to be tactful. Tact was never a strong point with the Kincaides, anyway. “He’s in love with her, Ric.”

  “What?”

  She checked on their dinner. “The man wears his heart on his sleeve.”

  “I haven’t noticed. Naomi hasn’t, either—she would’ve told me. Did he come out and say so?”

  “Yes,” she answered reluctantly. “Ordinarily I’d mind my own business, but in these circumstances, everyone’s emotional state is my business—and yours. You’re head ranger. Believe me when I say Keith’s a nervous wreck about Naomi.”

  “I…can’t believe it. Are you sure?”

  “He said he wished he could trade his health, his life, for hers if she has a malignancy. Hardly the words of a disinterested bystander.”

  The lights flickered again and went dim. Lindsey held her breath until they flickered once more, then went back to full strength.

  When they did, Lindsey found Eric’s gaze on her. “We can’t afford any more problems than we already have, Lindsey. I’ve got a bad feeling about this weather.”

  Despite the warm air in the kitchen, Lindsey felt goose bumps rising on the nape of her neck. “How bad?”

  “Donner Party bad.”

  Lindsey’s breath caught. The winter of 1846-47 was the worst in Sierra Nevada history, with the heaviest snowfall in one season, more than twenty-two feet, ever recorded. Nine terrible blizzards followed, one after another, causing the deaths of forty-five of the eighty-three hardy pioneers, and the consumption of the dead by the living. Civilization had been replaced by a primitive urge to survive, and cannibalism had been a terrible, snow-forced atrocity.

  “The bears’ coats and prehibernation fat were extreme this year, Lindsey. The birds migrated early, and the deer moved down country much earlier than usual. The day you skied in and the day after have been the only decent breaks in the weather all winter. And it’s only February. Wilson or no Wilson, we may have to pack out of here sooner than I’d like. All of us—or, worst case scenario, none of us.”

  Lindsey shivered. Eric had a sixth sense about weather. He didn’t need a meteorologist’s reports to predict climate. He’d spent his whole life in the area, and his very survival depended on his ability to judge the elements. When it came to snowstorms, Lindsey had never known him to be wrong. Ever.

  “What are we going to do?” Lindsey asked.

  “For now…we wait.”

  Day 4,
presunrise

  LINDSEY SAT BOLT UPRIGHT in her sleeping bag on the couch. “Who’s there?” she asked in the darkness.

  “Just me,” Eric replied. “It’s my turn to start the morning fire. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “It’s okay,” Lindsey said groggily.

  “Why are you on the couch?”

  “Pam’s temp is still up. She had a rough night. Poor thing didn’t settle down until a few hours ago. I let Naomi have my bed so she could get some rest, too.” She pushed an unruly lock of hair out of her eyes, her bare arm pimpling with the cold. “What time is it?”

  “Close to five. You warm enough?”

  “My legs are.” Ginger’s weight covered her legs on the far end of the couch. She tucked her arm back inside the sleeping bag and zipped it up, though she remained sitting. “As for the rest of me, well…this sure isn’t San Diego.”

  “Better get used to it. The generator’s been limping along all night.” His voice held more worry than Lindsey liked to hear. “Keith had to tinker with it around two. We’re going back out for another check and more wood as soon as it’s light.”

  Lindsey nodded. It appeared that Naomi and Pam weren’t the only ones who’d been cheated of sleep. “What’s it like outside?” she asked, aware that the earlier howling of the wind had subsided.

  “We’re catching the tail end of the storm, but there’s another moving in.”

  “More snow…” Lindsey murmured.

  “Too much snow. If we can’t get Naomi out of here today or tomorrow, she won’t be going anywhere.”

  “Hell. Ginger, get down.” Ginger opened her eyes and defiantly closed them again. “Hey, girl. Move.” Lindsey gently shoved at the dog with her foot, finally sending a reluctant canine off the couch and over to the hearth rug. Lindsey reached for her thermals and wool socks, stuffed at the bottom of her sleeping bag and, starting with fresh cotton panties, began to dress within its warmth. Unlike more stalwart stock, she slept with clean, prewarmed underwear every night to spare herself the shock of dressing in the brutal morning air.

  “You don’t have to get up,” Eric said quietly as first the tinder, then the kindling caught, spreading a faint orange light through the darkened room.

  “I’ll do Naomi’s morning chores. Let her sleep in if she can. With Pam still running a fever, she’ll need her rest.” Lindsey thrust one hand back into the sleeping bag to rummage around for her all-flannel one-piece bra. Like most cold-weather experts, she always wore natural fibers against the skin, reserving nylon and other artificial fibers for outer layers where waterproofing, not heat retention, was more important.

  As she reached out and upward to pull the sports-type bra over her head, one arm already through a strap, the sleeping bag shell slipped from her shoulders to puddle in fluffy folds at her waist. She shivered, her breasts reacting with painful goose bumps to the cold. Lindsey quickly shoved her other arm through the opposite strap and pulled the bra over her bustline, straightening and smoothing the fabric until she was comfortably covered. As she grabbed the sleeping bag to pull it back up to her shoulders, she noticed Eric’s gaze. He’d watched her the whole time.

  “Umm, sorry about that. I’ll be more careful in the future.”

  Eric continued to observe, but she couldn’t read his expression, backlit as he was by the fire. “I hope I’m not just an old habit, Lindsey.”

  Cheeks burning, she ducked her head, realizing that she was still comfortable undressed around her former lover. As comfortable as she’d ever been… Right then, she knew her relationship with Wade was a sham. Only a woman truly in love could have dressed so casually in front of another man with such lack of embarrassment. She had to face facts. Wade wasn’t Eric Kincaide, and Ric was, for better or worse, her ideal for all men. The ring on her finger felt more irksome than ever, and she guiltily yanked at it. She had no success in removing it, nor did Eric say anything else. He’d turned away to feed larger pieces of wood into the fire.

  Still embarrassed—not because Eric had watched her, but because she’d so easily fallen back into old patterns with him—she pulled on her wool socks, thermal underwear tops and bottoms, then exited from the sleeping bag to finish dressing in front of the fire. Her other socks and layers of warm clothing, along with her indoor and outdoor boots, were all waiting for her in the neat pile she’d left on the hearth. Ginger quickly took advantage of the situation, hopping back onto the couch and burrowing into the folds of the sleeping bag, tail and legs tucked beneath her.

  Eric continued to fuss with the fire. “You’ve lost weight,” he observed.

  “That’s the Southwest for you. Too hot for an appetite half the time, and working in a swimsuit all day doesn’t hide any excess pounds, that’s for sure.” She tried to speak lightly, matter-of-factly, as though the man next to her hadn’t once known her intimately. As though she wasn’t hurt that his only reaction to her body had been his comment about lost weight. She gave a nonchalant shrug. “The weight I gained up here disappeared as soon as I readjusted to the heat. I didn’t—” She abruptly broke off, aware that she was practically babbling—and more than aware of his closeness, his maleness. She found herself wondering how much his body had changed.

  “Four years without snow. Four years without a dog,” he said, as the fire caught the bigger logs. He replaced the poker in the andiron rack. “Why, Lindsey?”

  Lindsey shrugged again, and concentrated on lacing up her outdoor boots for a run to the outhouse. “No particular reason,” she said, purposely vague. “I still help the folks at the kennels.”

  “Seriously, I’d like to know.” He went on watching her, standing where she couldn’t see his face. For that matter, neither could he see hers as she finished lacing up the first boot.

  She reminded herself to be on her guard. She was just “the replacement” to him, nothing more. “Time for a change, I guess.”

  Eric knelt in front of her and reached for her unlaced boot to rest it on his knee. It was something he’d always done for her in the past, something that made her feel pampered and loved, even though she was perfectly capable of lacing up her own boots.

  “Was it because of me?”

  Lindsey bit her lip.

  “It was, wasn’t it?” He held her foot as he waited for her to answer.

  “Not directly. Whatever choices I’ve made, I’ve made because of me. Not you, not anyone else.”

  “But you’d spent your whole life with animals.”

  “That’s right. I know more about relationships with them than relationships with people. Face it—I know more about dogs than anything else, including search-and-rescue. After what happened to us, I thought maybe I should give myself a chance to concentrate on humans rather than canines.”

  “Obviously without success.”

  “What?” she asked angrily, yanking her foot away from Eric.

  “You’re engaged to a man you don’t love.”

  “I love him!” Lindsey said in a forceful whisper, mindful of those sleeping. “I just love him…differently…than I loved you. There are lots of kinds of love. Like how I love my dogs. Or how I love my family.”

  Eric picked up her laces again. “You don’t believe in true love? You’re willing to settle?”

  She reached for the laces herself with trembling fingers. “Like you’re such an expert,” she said disdainfully. “You cut me off—cut me out of your life! Because Naomi snapped her fingers, you changed your mind about postponing the wedding for a few days. A few days, Eric! That’s all I asked.”

  “Believe me, I’m sorry about that. I…” Uncharacteristically, he hesitated.

  “You want to know what I thought? I thought I’d failed with you because I was too caught up in my rescue work. Thought maybe I’d be a better person without dogs, that maybe spending most of my time with them was wrong. Thought I was too selfish when it came to my work.”

  “God, Lindsey, you were never that!”

  “That’s not
how I saw it,” she said. “I figured maybe you had a point. So I decided to see if I you were right. After four years without a canine partner, I’ve reached the conclusion that I’m no better with men and romance than I was before. All I did was face a few hard truths—and allow myself to come back here to work with an ownerless dog. Maybe I’ll never be the expert you presume to be on human relationships, and maybe I’ll never find ‘true love.’ But at least with canines I can make a difference in people’s lives. I’ve already made a difference with Pam and your sister. That has to count for something. As for anything else…”

  To her horror, her voice shook, and tears came perilously close to the surface.

  “Lindsey, please—” He tried to take her hands, but she pushed them aside and stood.

  “Excuse me, but I need to use the outhouse.” She grabbed at her hooded coat and ran outside, feeling very much the coward, her untied laces almost hidden in the deep, heavy snow.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Day 4, midmorning

  THE FOUR ADULTS SAT IN THE common room around the fire, the table cleared, dishes washed and put away. Lindsey and Ginger took their usual places near the hearth, Naomi and Keith shared the couch, while Eric straddled the chair by the desk that held the ham radio. Pam, who had slept through breakfast, lay asleep in the women’s bedroom.

  Eric studied the faces of his staff. Naomi and Keith looked sleep-deprived, Naomi more so. Lindsey, who’d slept more than all of them, had no shadows under her eyes, but she refused to meet his gaze, her facial features almost inanimate. He suspected he’d been responsible for that. Their conversation earlier had shocked him deeply, but any further discussion had to be tabled. The present meant his personal life had to take a back seat.

  “The snow’s stopped,” he said. “We should have a couple of days before the next storm hits. If there’s going to be any backpacking out of here, it has to be done now. Naomi, how’s Pam?”

  His twin shook her head. “Not good. I can’t keep her fever down, and the frostbite’s starting to turn the area above her toes black as well. I’m worried. If we don’t get her to a doctor, she may end up losing some toes. Maybe all of them. She needs a circulatory assessment and surgical debridement at a hospital.”