SNOWFIRES (7 page)

While his hands worked, his mind wandered to
the woman in the other room. So, Holly was allowed to work, but not
her sisters. Definitely not her wicked stepmother. No, that woman
was all show and shallow as a dinner plate.

When he had met Holly two months ago, he’d
logged her flighty as her stepmother. Surprise. Granted she knew
nothing of the strategy of revitalizing a stagnant corporation, but
she knew everything about the three hundred employees who worked
there. That the benefits package at Marvel far exceeded the norm
meant her family made less profit. Apparently she had no objection,
since she had negotiated the package. She seemed to genuinely care
about the employees’ welfare.

More than once he’d heard her ask about
family members who were ill or about kids in school. In fact, her
ability to relate to people of all levels in the company amazed
him. None of her stepmother’s snobbery tainted Holly’s relationship
with co-workers. She worked late many evenings and he heard her
exchange conversation with the night guard and the custodians
before she left. Employees respected her.

Of course, he worked late, too, trying to
familiarize himself with the next day's tasks. He often felt like a
kid cramming for tomorrow's exam in school. Hard as he’d worked all
his life and in spite of all the research he’d done before sealing
the deal with Marvel, the wire and cable business was foreign
territory. Already he had established a niche, or he hoped so.
Perhaps in time he, too, would actually be accepted.

Here and now, Trent wanted Holly more than
he’d wanted any other woman. Desire consumed him. She’d haunted him
nights since he’d met her two months ago. Last night he came very
close to acting out his erotic dreams. This time, at long last, he
had been able to hold her.

Having her in his arms was even sweeter than
he had imagined. No matter how perfect holding her seemed, she
wasn't for him, or he for her. She’d made that all too clear. Even
if they didn't work together and even if they were not from totally
different worlds, he could never surmount her irrational dislike of
him. He had to quit thinking of her as his own special
"Princess."

If only Tucker had not been so stubborn, the
man could have held on to his job—but with Trent as his supervisor.
Then maybe Holly would have given him a chance to prove himself.
Damn Tucker for being a loser, for gambling everything he had on a
dream.

Despair swept over Trent. And how am I any
better? Although he had no family to consider, he had risked
everything he’d accrued in almost twenty years on the meeting he
would miss in a few hours. Overwhelming panic consumed him and, for
a few moments, he had to put his head on his arms and give in to
the terror.

"Trent, what are you doing, sleeping on the
job?"

He hadn’t heard her approach and jumped. "I,
um...I need something to clean the furnace burner openings. Can you
find me some toothpicks or broom straws?" When she turned back to
the kitchen, he calmed himself. Everything would work out. It had
to.

He pulled himself up and sat with his back
against the wall, legs stretched beside the furnace opening. One
glance at his watch told him he should wait a couple of hours
before trying to reach his assistant again on the cell phone.

He called to her, “Hey, with the wind letting
up, maybe the phones service will be restored soon.” Unless the
isolation of this godforsaken wasteland ruled out cell phone
contact. In the meantime, his only chance of sanity lay in
believing the meeting had been successfully postponed.

In less time than he expected, Holly handed
him broom straws and toothpicks. “Here. Let me know if you need
more.”

He sighed and returned to his task.

Peripherally, he saw Holly move through the
dim glow of the lantern toward the photograph of a young couple
with their children. Yesterday, she and he decided it must be the
Martins. Mrs. Martin, a tiny woman except for the very pregnant
bulge of her stomach, held a child no more than a year old. Mr.
Martin held a boy of about two or so. The photograph presented a
happy family, for all the apparent young age of the parents.

Holly hugged her arms. "How on earth do those
babies stand this house? Even when the furnace was on yesterday,
this floor was too cold for children."

"Martin said that if they can make it through
this winter, they'll have enough saved to start a home improvement
project. They plan to build two more rooms, another bathroom, and
install central heat. I think the kids mostly stay with their
grandparents in cold weather, especially with their mother having
trouble with her pregnancy."

She turned toward him. "You didn't mention
pregnancy problems."

Without looking up he shrugged a shoulder.
"Yeah, well, I was a little upset at the time Martin told me. They
were in town to see the kids at her parents’ and then the Martins
were coming back here."

"So, it's even more important that the
animals do well to pay for the new baby and a home loan. Would the
cattle have died without us here?"

He paused to consider a moment, then resumed
tinkering. "No, probably not. Maybe a few who were separated in
isolated pens. Those in the big pen would have bunched together."
He looked up at her and smiled. “You know, shared warmth.”

With a shake of his head he added, "I don't
pretend to understand Martin’s system for cattle, but they're all
together now and appear none the worse for the experience." He
struck a match as he turned the manual override key and all the
furnace burner jets burst into flame.

She applauded. "Thank goodness. At least now
the house will be a little warmer."

He replaced the grate and stood. "A lot
warmer. About half the jets were stopped up and not taking flame.
This place will probably seem toasty warm when I get back from the
barn. At least compared to yesterday."

"I'm going, too." Holly retrieved her
coat.

Socks, with the benefit of a litter box by
the back door, remained curled on the chair.

"There's no need for you to go." Trent saw he
wasted his breath because she’d donned her coat and had the muffler
wrapped around her head. As she put on her gloves, he reached for
his own jacket. "No playing matador this time, okay?"

The searing look she sent his way only made
him laugh. Lord, he was sliding out of control. Why worry about
losing every dime he owned? At this rate he would be stark, raving
mad by the time they returned to Dallas.

Blue burst from the porch. In direct contrast
to the docile animal they had found yesterday, the dog cavorted,
sliding this way and that. He seemed intent on marking every post
or tree between the house and the barn.

Beside Trent, Holly stood on the tiny back
porch and stared. He shared her awe. A crystal glaze covered
everything. Every twig, every shrub lay encrusted in a sheet of
ice. Branches of trees drooped under the weight of their heavy
burden.

Nothing moved. No birds chirped; no animal
made a sound. Only the crack of contracting and expanding ice broke
the quiet. Then, a rooster's crow shattered the air. Though clouds
hid the sun, a few rays of feathered light peeped through to prove
morning had arrived.

"It's so beautiful." Even with the cover of
clouds the icy glare made them squint. He watched her breath escape
like puffs of smoke in the frosty air.

"If you insist on coming, you're on your own.
Hold to the cable so you don't fall." Trent contradicted his words
by bracing her waist as she edged her borrowed boots warily down
the slick steps.

Icicles hung from the cable, and their gloves
were stiff with ice by the time they reached the barn. The smell of
so many large animals in a confined space hit them in a wave.

Holly shook her head and pursed her mouth.
"Whew. It smells like a feed lot in here."

Trent put his hands on his hips and cocked
his head at her. "It is a feed lot in here, Princess." With
strident purpose, he went into motion. "Don't worry, with all the
animals penned, it won't take as much time today."

She reached for a pitchfork, but Trent
stopped her.

"You take care of the chickens. You saw where
I got their feed yesterday?"

Holly went to the correct bin. "Do we have to
do this again later today?"

"Nope. The pens should be mucked out, but
I'll pass. Maybe we can leave by tomorrow." He wanted to think they
would be rescued, but knew no one in this area would travel today.
“Think the snowplows will be out by then?”

She looked aghast. “Are you
kidding?
There are no
snowplows
. We don’t get snow as often as they do
further north. Some years we don’t get much snow at all, but
there’s never more than two or three storms a year like
this.”

“
No plows? How do people get
help?”

“
Eventually the county grader may clear
a path down the road. Sanding crews will cover the worst spots near
the bridges. That is, unless the weather changes quickly and the
ice starts melting.”

So, they were even more hopelessly
stranded than he had realized.
Dear God,
help us
. To fight the despair that threatened to
overwhelm him, Trent plunged into forking fodder to the
cattle.

After feeding the chickens, she moved to help
him with the hay. He waved her away. "We need the eggs, remember?
There won't be many in this cold, but maybe you could collect
what’s there while I finish with the cattle."

She stared at him, then looked at the floor
of the pen. Her gaze returned to his. He didn't think she'd do it
and prepared to deliver a smart alec remark about her "set" not
soiling their feet.

Grabbing the egg basket, she marched to the
pen. He watched her take a deep breath of air and open the screened
door. With a final glare directed his way, she stepped into the
enclosure. Trent would have sworn she wouldn’t put even one foot
inside the pen, much less retrieve eggs from beneath uncooperative
hens. Damn, what he wouldn't give for a camera.

When she looked at one egg and scrunched up
her face then wiped a dark stain from the egg, he laughed out loud.
She made a face and placed it into the basket with the other eggs.
Then she wiped her daintily gloved fingers on that expensive coat.
An angry hen advanced on her and she stepped back. In her haste,
she almost fell.

He turned his back and leaned on the rails of
the cattle pen to hide that he shook with mirth. If he lived to be
a hundred, he would never forget that sight.

Blue's bark made him turn. Holly stood by the
barn door with the basket of eggs in her hand. Several feathers
clung to her coat and hair as she scraped her boots against the
floor.

Quickly, he finished his chores with the
cattle and joined her. He looked her over from head to toe.

"I sure hope you don't plan on throwing that
coat across the bed again tonight."

* * *

Holly emerged from the bathroom carrying a
pile of clothing, her overnight case, and a large pan. Trent had
carried the pan of hot water into the bathroom for her earlier. His
own now heated in the kitchen.

"I wouldn’t have believed a sponge bath and a
change of clothes could improve anyone's outlook on life as much as
this did." She gestured toward the bathroom. "Your turn, Kind
Sir."

"Your boots, Milady." He presented her with
the pair of borrowed boots she had left just inside the kitchen
door. They now shined with fresh polish.

"Oh, my. You really are a kind sir. Thank
you."

He returned to the kitchen to retrieve his
own pan of water. His duffle bag waited for him by the bathroom
door. Although he recycled the clothes he’d used during his visit
to the Grayson ranch, they were still a better choice than those he
had worn earlier today.

"While you were cleaning up, I went to the
car to see if I could get a radio weather report."

"Any luck?" Suddenly she remembered the sheet
of ice sealing the barn doors and wondered about her car doors and
their locks. She’d heard how men sometimes melted the ice from a
door lock but surely he wouldn't...not the new silver Lexus Grandpa
Grayson had given her for her birthday last month.

Trent smiled at her. "No." With that he
kicked closed the bathroom door, leaving her to wonder whether he
answered her question or read her mind.

Holly retrieved the cell phone from her
purse. She punched the autodial for her grandparents and waited.
Nothing. Although she’d called yesterday to let them know she was
safe, she knew they’d worry until she returned home.

She rummaged through the cupboards until she
found a plastic trash sack for her dirty clothes. No way were those
duds touching anything else of hers until they saw hot soapy water.
She imagined her stepmother's reaction to the sight of some of
those stains. The mental image made her laugh.

Taking a romance novel from her bag, she laid
it on the table. With the shades raised, the bright snow reflected
enough light into the room for reading, but the confined space left
her pacing back into the other room. In this short time she’d
learned firsthand what cabin fever meant.

She glanced at her wristwatch. Good heavens,
twenty-four hours almost to the minute since they left her
grandparent's ranch. It seemed another world ago.

With her customary efficiency, she tidied the
small living room and moved to the bedroom. The house was a little
warmer now. Whether in contrast to the outside air or because of
the refurbished furnace, Holly didn’t know.

By the time Trent emerged from the bathroom,
she was mopping muddy paw prints from the kitchen floor. Freshly
shaved and with every hair on his head perfectly in place, he
looked handsome enough to be a model. Not a high fashion model; his
looks better suited an outdoorsman's magazine.