Beauty and the Brain (31 page)

Until she thought about the possibility of a
mountain lion, and then she froze in her tracks. Good God, a
mountain lion might jump at her from the limb of a tree, mightn’t
it?

She glanced up and saw nothing. She glanced
around at ground level and saw nothing.

In fact, she couldn’t see anything at
all.

Sweet Lord, she was lost. She was lost in
the forest at night, and nobody but God knew where she was. God and
the devil.

Darn it. Why had she chosen now, of all
inconvenient times, to think about the devil?

Maybe she was being punished for having
carnal thoughts about Colin Peters.

Nonsense. God had created human beings. He’d
installed a sexual nature along with everything else in the mix
with which He’d gifted the human body. Surely He wouldn’t have done
that if He hadn’t expected that sexual nature to kick in from time
to time. How else could the human species survive?

She felt no carnal urges at the moment. All
her sensations were occupied in being frightened. Darn it, why
hadn’t she noticed the sun getting low on the horizon? Easy enough
to answer: she couldn’t see the horizon from here, in the middle of
a bunch of trees.

A city girl, she was unused to trees,
although she’d read a lot and, therefore, knew a tree when she saw
one. And she’d visited the mountains before, for various jobs. She
was sure she’d read once or twice about what one should do if one
found oneself lost in the woods. Now, what was it? Was one supposed
to stand still and wait for rescue or keep walking? She couldn’t
remember.

All right, so she didn’t know what to do.
Obviously, her sense of direction, which was pretty good when she
was in familiar surroundings, had deserted her. She didn’t know
which way north, south, east, or west was. Even if she’d brought a
compass with her, she wouldn’t have known in which direction to
walk, since she didn’t know where she was. She’d not even be able
to see the compass by this time. She’d seldom felt this stupid.

Which was nothing to the purpose. It
wouldn’t do her any good to berate herself at the moment. That
could wait.

Although she didn’t like to think about
needing one, she considered whether or not she had anything with
her that might constitute a weapon.

No. She didn’t. She wasn’t even wearing a
hat with a pin in it She wasn’t wearing a hat at all.

Bother. Perhaps she should arm herself with
a stick. She wished she’d thought about a stick before it got too
dark to see. Did she have any matches? She seldom carried any, but
she searched through all the pockets in her clothes in hope. Her
hope came to naught.

The night air was getting chilly, too. But
had she thought to bring along a wrap? Even a shawl? No, she
hadn’t. She’d hung her cloak on a tree branch and merrily trotted
off to get herself lost in the woods without giving it another
thought.

In fact, she couldn’t recall ever feeling so
helpless, and she didn’t like the sensation at all. Where was the
moon? Where were the stars? If only she had a little light, she
might be able to find a stick, if not her way back to the
lodge.

She decided she’d be better off standing
still and waiting for—for what? For some large, hungry animal to
maul her? To freeze to death?

Nonsense. One couldn’t freeze to death in
the springtime, could one? She recalled reading somewhere about
hypothermia and wished she hadn’t.

So she shouldn’t stand still. She should
walk. If she walked, even if she walked around in circles, she’d
keep warmer than if she stood still.

Actually, her feet hurt, and she’d as soon
not stand at all, but sit. But if she sat, she’d surely get chilled
all the way through, and that was no good. She might also be a
better target for the large, hungry animal stalking her. Wouldn’t
she? Or would an animal be more likely to he attracted by
movement?

Feeling completely melancholy and
overwhelmed, and wishing she’d read more about large beasts of the
forest, Brenda nearly succumbed to tears before her staunch nature
reasserted itself and told her not to be a simpering ninny. No
matter where she was at the moment, she was both alive and close to
the Cedar Crest Lodge. No large hungry animal would roam this close
to a human habitation, would it?

Not unless it sensed an easy meal.

“Darn it,” she muttered, becoming more and
more annoyed with herself. She’d never been a sissy before. She’d
never been lost in the woods before.

“Stop it!”

She heard a rustling in the woods and froze.
Oh, Lord, had she roused some sleeping beast with her voice? Why
hadn’t she just shut up and kept walking? Or standing? Or
sitting?

Darn, she wished she knew what to do.

The rustling noise didn’t stop. It seemed to
be getting closer. Oh, sweet heaven, what was it? Throwing caution
to the wind, Brenda felt around for a tree and tried to find a
branch she could break off. Perhaps she could ward the beast off
with a bushy branch.

Darn it, this one was a pine tree. There
weren’t any bushy branches on pine trees—and even if there were,
they were too far over her head for her to reach any of them.

Maybe she should climb a tree. Another tree.
One with branches. Frantically, she hurried past the pine tree,
holding her arms out in front of her in an effort to feel her way
since she couldn’t see.

Ow! There was a tree. Some kind of tree.
She’d just crashed into it. It was the kind with bushy branches.
Not quite heartened, she felt around the tree, trying to find a
branch she could break off. She found a branch, but it was pretty
thick. It wouldn’t break when she yanked on it, and it wouldn’t
break when she tried to twist it. All she got for that particular
effort was a painfully scratched palm. Growing angry with the fates
as well as herself, Brenda threw herself at the branch, hoping her
weight would break it off.

It almost did, but not quite. This wasn’t
fair. It was too unkind of the fates to stick her out here in the
wilderness all by herself and not even allow her to break a branch
with which to defend herself against wild beasts.

Furious, she heaved herself at the branch
again. It broke with a hideous cracking sound, and she and the
branch fell to the ground. It was a painful, prickly experience,
and it didn’t improve Brenda’s mood. She didn’t pause to consider
all her scrapes and bumps, however, but jumped to her feet,
clutching the branch by its sappy broken end. She’d never get that
stuff out of her clothes—not to mention her broken flesh.
Bother.

The noise didn’t stop. Weren’t wild animals
supposed to be afraid of loud noises? That branch, breaking and her
falling on top of it had made a terrible racket. Why was the beast
still heading her way? A horrible thought struck her—or, rather,
another horrible thought. What if the creature headed her way was
some sort of maniac who lived in the mountains and preyed on lost
people and so forth? She’d read about men who, crazed by war or
general everyday nonsense, took to the woods and lived in the wild.
It would be just her luck to meet one now.

The noise kept coming. It was getting
closer. Desperately, Brenda cried out, “Stop! Whoever you are, stop
right there! I’m armed!” With a bushy tree branch. Oh Lord. Oh,
Lord.

It had a light with it, whatever it was. She
wasn’t comforted, although she supposed a light did exclude hungry
animals. It didn’t leave out maniacal mountain men.

She cried, “Stay where you are, or I’ll
shoot!” With her bushy tree branch. God, if she survived this
night, she’d give a thousand dollars to charity. She swore it.

“Brenda?”

It knew her name! Oh, God! This was worse
than she’d feared.

“Brenda, is that you? Where the devil have
you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

She squinted into the darkness, thinking the
voice sounded vaguely familiar. And, while it sounded irked, it
didn’t sound as if it meant to roast her on a spit over an open
fire or do her other harm. Too terrified to hope, she didn’t
answer, afraid it might be some sort of trick.

But that was stupid. How could it be a
trick? Nobody knew she was out here. She still didn’t speak.

The voice came again. “Where are you? For
the love of God, say something, so I’ll know where you are! You
were an idiot to stay out after dark, dash it. It’s not safe.”

Colin! It was Colin! Brenda almost lost
control and burst into tears, she was so overjoyed to know it was
he who’d come to rescue her.

Then it registered on her consciousness that
he’d called her an idiot. Her terror turned to rage in an instant.
“Is that you, Colin?” Before anything, Brenda was an actress. She
pitched her question at a mellifluous tone.

“Yes.” He, on the other hand, sounded
irritated.

The fiend. The miserable, coldblooded,
horrid, awful, woman-seducing fiend. Brenda said sweetly, “Yes,
Colin. It’s I, Brenda.” That should give him pause; she’d used
I
instead of
me
. She wondered if he’d notice it and
catalog her proper use of pronouns in the machine that passed for
his brain.

“Why in the name of heaven are you out here
in the woods after dark?” he asked in a loud voice. “Did you intend
to spend the night out here?”

He was getting closer. A faint streak of
light issued from the gloom. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for
Brenda to discern a tall fir tree standing only a yard or so away
from her. She ducked behind it. Darn him for calling her an idiot.
Darn him for coming after her himself instead of sending somebody
nice to look for her. George wouldn’t call her an idiot. Jerry
Begay wouldn’t call her an idiot. Gil Drew wouldn’t call her an
idiot.

It infuriated her to know she wouldn’t have
cared if they had. Only Colin had the power to hurt her feelings.
She raised her branch above her head, no longer heedful of the sap
dripping down her arms and onto her frock.

He emerged, looking angry, holding his
blasted torch up and shining it in a circle around him. “Where the
deuce are you?”

She didn’t answer. He started walking again.
When he was close enough to her tree for her to reach, Brenda
brought the branch down on his head.

Colin didn’t know what hit him. Whatever it
was didn’t hit him hard, but it was plenty hard enough to tumble
him to the ground. On his way down, he reached up to hold on to his
glasses, hit himself on the head with the torch, dropped the
blanket, and sent the torch flying.

He sprawled in a pile of pine needles for a
moment, confused, before he heard Brenda’s voice. Only it didn’t
sound like her voice. It sounded like something that had come out
of a crazed fishwife.

“How
dare
you call me an idiot!” the
voice shrieked. “You devil!”

“Brenda?” Colin pushed the branch away from
his face and felt his head to make sure it was all in one
piece.

“How dare you? You wicked, wicked man!”

He didn’t understand this at all. He thought
he’d come outside in the pitch dark to rescue her, and here she was
vilifying him to the heavens. Not to mention the creatures of the
forest, the trees, the moon and stars, and everything in
between.

In a voice he hoped conveyed concern, and
determined not to lose his temper since she had obviously become
deranged, he asked, “Are you hurt?”

“Am I hurt? Am I
hurt
!” she hollered.
“Of course I hurt, you lunatic! Wouldn’t
you
be hurt if
somebody called you an idiot? And all because you’d got lost in the
woods?”

He had no answer, primarily because he
couldn’t comprehend the question. He hadn’t called her an idiot,
had he? Well, maybe he had. He’d been thinking of her in unkind
terms ever since he’d realized she wasn’t anywhere in or near the
lodge. He tested an explanation on her. “I, ah, was worried about
you when I discovered you were missing.”

“Missing?” she shrieked. “
Missing!
I
wasn’t missing! I was here all the time. I’d gone outside to think,
you miserable toad!”

Miserable toad? Him? Tentatively, he drew
his knees up, preparatory to standing. The torch’s beam had gone
out when it hit the earth, but there was a shaft of moonlight
filtering through the tree branches. It landed right, smack on
Brenda, its silvery light giving her a ghostly, shimmering
appearance that was half frightening and half enchanting. It would
have been a good deal more enchanting if she hadn’t continued to
yell at him.

She didn’t wait for him to respond to her
calling him a toad, which was just as well. “I was so scared! It
was so dark, and I couldn’t see a thing, and then you came waltzing
along, calling me an idiot! You beast!”

Carefully, Colin pushed himself to a sitting
position. Squinting around the small clearing, he spotted the
torch. Thank God his eyeglasses hadn’t come off. He hoped the torch
wasn’t broken beyond redemption, because it would be much easier to
get back to the lodge if they could see the way.

“Well?” she stormed. “Well? Don’t you have
anything say, you—you—you louse?”

Louse? Colin began to feel the faintest
degree of resentment. Here he’d come all the way out here, into the
woods where God alone knew what dangers lurked, in order to find
her, and she was screaming at him and calling him names. It didn’t
seem sportsmanlike “Um, I thought you’d be glad somebody came after
you, actually.”

“Glad? Why, you miserable goat! First you
try to rape me and now you pretend to be some kind of chivalrous
knight! I hate you, Colin Peters. I
hate
you!”

“Rape you?” Colin could scarcely believe his
ears. “I did no such thing.” Offended, he climbed to his feet,
picking up the torch on his way, and began to brush himself off. He
stuck the torch into his pocket for the nonce, to get it out of his
way.