Stony River (30 page)

“Fenn,” she asked, returning, “could I just ride up on Trapper and tell Joel I found him?”

“No,” said Fenn. “I can’t risk losing a horse over some fool sheep.”

At the mention of losing his horse, she hurriedly let the subject go. “Then I’ll just go up myself.”

“It’s your neck,” Fenn said with his usual benevolence. “Just don’t take the gun—I don’t want it to get wet.”

CHAPTER 19

The higher Sevana climbed, the more fiercely the wind assailed the mountain, shrieking through the bent trees. Its force frightened her, yet she climbed with no slacking of pace, picturing Joel’s relief when he learned Brook was found. But when she scrambled breathlessly up the final pitch, her spirits fell. The cabin stood dark, and no smoke escaped the chimney. Her knock went unanswered. She should have expected it, she realized as she turned away. Joel would not give up the search while any light remained in which to look.

The sheepfold, too, was quiet; the flock was bedded down when she looked in. The only other place she knew to look was the pasture—but when she climbed into the meadow, she found only the wind calling mournful over the ranges, and the rocky bulwarks looming against the foreboding sky. But as the clouds continued to sweep by, they gave an accidental glimpse of the secret they were hiding: a round pearl of a moon hanging low above the bulk of the mountains.

For one moment Sevana forgot everything but the smoldering glamour of that darkly cast scene, with the ashen moon extending its sheen to the gossamer clouds in which it was nestled. But then a thicker cloud swallowed the moon and a smattering of rain blew in her face, and she was reminded of the unpredictability of mountain storms. What was she doing up there so far from home?—she must get back!

She started running down the meadow and fell headlong as her foot found a gopher hole. Picking herself up, she ran the rest of the way to Joel’s cabin to leave him a note. She wrested the heavy front door open and was blown inside by the force of the wind. The door crashed shut behind her.

Next instant she found herself face-to-face with a very startled, very beautiful girl with luxurious long hair and exceedingly dark, wary eyes. They both regarded each other without speaking. But Sevana, knowing without a single doubt it was Chantal, gathered her wits first. “I’m so sorry,” she said. She put up a hand to smooth her wind-blown hair, and bits of grass floated to the floor. “I knocked a little while ago—I didn’t think anyone was here.”

“I just arrived.” The girl—whose sultry ambience reminded Sevana of the brooding atmosphere in the upper pasture—was still taking her in through thick lashes. “Where’s Joel?”

She was even more intriguing than her picture. She had a face that lured you to take another look, while her smoky eyes dared you to, knowing they could trap you in their depths.

“He’s out looking for a missing sheep. He should be back soon.” Sevana decided she shouldn’t keep her guessing. “You must be Chantal.” She held out her hand. “I’m Sevana, Joel’s neighbor down the hill. He told me about you.”

Chantal’s eyes narrowed, and despite her poise she looked taken aback. “He did?”

“Yes—just that you were a friend he met on a lookout.”

Chantal appeared to be thinking that their relationship was not as clandestine as she would have preferred, but she wasn’t going to press for more information from someone she’d just met. “What brings you up here in this storm?” she asked forthrightly.

“I found Joel’s sheep, and it’s safe in my brother’s barn. Would you tell him for me? I don’t want him to worry.”

“Yes, I will.” She acted more gracious now. “I’ll just wait for him and try to keep warm.” She drew her plush sweater close around her elegant figure and stamped her feet lightly on the floor. Sevana noticed she wore thin fashion boots below her stylish trousers. “You could start a fire,” she suggested.

“I could…but I’ll just wait for Joel.”

Sevana, looking at her, guessed she didn’t know the first thing about a woodstove. Wind hissed around the cabin walls and rain spat against the windows. “I’ll start one for you,” she offered. It was the least she could do for the girl Joel loved.

“Well—if you want to,” Chantal allowed her generously.

While Sevana arranged kindling from the pail of split cedar, Chantal asked, “How long has the sheep been missing?”

“Just since afternoon. A lightning bolt struck right above us in the pasture, and frightened Brook.”

No sooner had she said it, than she realized she had just disclosed she’d been with Joel. Nor did the fact elude Chantal, judging from the way she drew back her head and looked at her in even a more canny way than before. “Is the flock so large that Joel needs help watching them now?” she asked pointedly, her eyes observant in her flawless face.

“Oh no,” Sevana hastened to assure her. “I wasn’t watching the sheep, I was painting. I’m a painter,” she added lamely.

Chantal pressed her curved lips together. “He needs a dog. I don’t know why he hasn’t gotten one.”

Maybe because he spent a whole year’s wage on an engagement ring for you
, Sevana wanted to say. Of course that was only conjecture on her part. She struck a match vigorously. “He’s going to get one soon.”

“That will be a help to him.” And Chantal smiled suddenly, as if she realized she was being too overtly suspicious and needed to make more of an effort to be polite.

Sevana said: “Joel must not have known you were coming, or he would have made a point to be here.”

“No, I couldn’t call to tell him my change of plans.” Her sultry eyes, though needing no provocation to do so, looked stormy. “A thousand times I’ve wished he had a phone in this backwater place he insists on calling home!”

Rain was pelting against the windows now. As heat began to radiate from the cast iron, Sevana nudged the damper down. “That should do until he comes back.” She moved to the door. “I need to be going. It was nice to meet you, Chantal.”

“Thank you. It was nice to meet you, too, Sevana.”

Outside in the heavy rain and wind, Sevana realized it would have been wiser to wait out the worst of the storm in the cabin. But she was peculiarly relieved to be away from Chantal’s company, and decided she preferred the elements—angry as they were—to someone who in her polished sophistication did not seem quite genuine. She began stumbling down the trail, the sheets of rain making it hard to see or even breathe. A large tree loomed up in her way. She must have gone straight where the trail had switched back, she reasoned. She retraced her steps, but came face up with another tree.

Unnerved, she stopped and tried to orient herself. She only wished she could see better through the driving rain and dimming light. Night was settling down fast. The twilight she’d been counting on had fled at the onset of the storm.

Once again she struck out, but when she didn’t reach the trail after a short time, she stopped and looked up helplessly at the trees imprisoning her. The rain lashed her relentlessly. Drenched and shivering, she took refuge behind a stout lodgepole trunk. Then she heard a splintering crash and felt a ground-shaking thud beneath her feet, and knew with an answering thud of her heart that a tree had gone down not far away. She hung her head. This was her own fault, she was well aware. Fenn had known enough to keep his horse—and his gun—off the mountain tonight, but she had gone on heedless, headlong.

After a time, she noticed the wind wasn’t battering quite so fiercely. The rain was falling almost straight down instead of being hurtled sideways against the mountainside. She could see a few yards ahead. She started out again and found the trail almost at once.

In relief she resumed her way as quickly as she could distinguish it in the failing light. She shivered until her middle hurt, and her jaw ached from clamping her teeth to keep them from chattering. Her wet shirt felt icy. She kept on doggedly, hoping she could make it home before there was no light at all. Then she heard hoofbeats and turned to see a shadowy figure riding horseback down the trail.

“Hello!” Joel’s face emerged out of the dusk as he brought Flint to a standstill. “Bad night to be out. You all right?”

“I’m—fine,” she declared, shaking so from cold she could hardly talk. “Just—a—little—wet—”

“And nearly frozen,” he finished for her. Reaching for her hand, he pulled her up in front of him.

“But Joel—you’ve got company—Chantal’s at your cabin—”

“I know.” He opened his overcoat and wrapped it around her, so it enclosed them both. “She told me you came up.”

“You left her there alone, when she came all this way to see you?”

“She wasn’t the one out in the storm. I had to satisfy myself you made it home—and it’s a good thing I did.” They started down the trail at a fair clip.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” she said meekly. “I wanted to help, but I’ve only made extra trouble for you.”

“No trouble,” he said gruffly. “You did me a favor. Where’d you find the little vagabond, anyway?”

“Right by our spring.” They passed the turnaround where a silver coupe stood out as an alien object, bright among the shadows. “Were you surprised to see Chantal?” she asked, even though she knew the answer well enough.

“Yes, I was. She even built a fire and cooked dinner while she was waiting for me.” He sounded so pleased that Sevana refused herself the satisfaction of setting the record straight. “We were going to meet tomorrow, but her flight was changed to an earlier one—and since she couldn’t call me, she rented a car and drove out here. I was planning to meet her in Nelson,” he said again, unnecessarily. “I could have met her today if I’d known.” The pause he lapsed into had something of an agitated air to it. “Well, that’s how it goes when your phone and your mailbox are two hours away.” For the first time his natural humor showed through. “Out here, no news isn’t good news—it’s just no news.”

She sensed the uneasiness in his banter, and he didn’t keep her guessing as to its cause. “Sevana, I know how this looks to you—her staying here like this. But I didn’t plan it this way. I’m trying to keep it all on the level; I want to do the right thing.”

“I know, Joel.” She wanted to set his mind at ease. “I stayed at your house once, too, you know. You just need to talk things out, and you’re losing time because of me. I tried to bring Brook up to you, but he was stubborn and wouldn’t come.” Her teeth were clacking, and even inside the thick wool she couldn’t get warm.

“That sounds like him,” Joel said grimly. He gathered the coat more tightly around her and bent his head so the brim of his leather hat protected her more thoroughly from the rain. “Dry clothes and hot tea for you when you get home, do you hear?”

With his capable arms sheltering her, Sevana had a rare sense of invulnerability—safe from anything and everything. He was so near, she could feel the warmth of his body and smell the soap on his skin. To be so secure and protected was a luxurious feeling for someone used to depending only on herself, and she wished it could last for more than just those few minutes. But already Joel was saying: “Almost there now.” A few stars peeked out in the troubled sky. “Here’s the homestead.” He added, “Well, I made it down the mountain tonight, but it’s a little dark to be visiting the river.”

“Brook’s in the barn,” she told him. But Joel rode straight to the front steps, lifted her down, marched her across the porch and swept her inside, hand on her back.

Fenn looked up from his book as they entered, and Sevana’s spirits sank when she saw the bottle in front of him. More and more, he was drinking even when it wasn’t a Saturday night.

“Evening, Fenn.” Joel stopped just inside the door. “Stoke up the stove, will you? She’s badly chilled.”

“Chilled?” Fenn repeated scornfully. “Of course she is. Anyone would be, out running around on a night like this. But it was her choice to go, against all sense.” He glared at Sevana, who stood bedraggled and wet-haired, eyes large and dark in her pale face. “Still seem like such a good idea to go up the mountain tonight?” he disparaged her.

“No,” she said, downcast. “You’re right, Fenn, I shouldn’t have gone.”

“Never mind,” Joel said briskly. “Nothing a hot fire and dry clothes won’t mend.” He stared meaningfully at Fenn, who roused himself grudgingly, as if aware Joel wouldn’t leave until he saw that Sevana would be cared for. Taking a heavy stick of fir from the woodbox, he straightened to address him across the room. “You want your sheep, it’s in the barn.”

“So I heard.” Joel’s voice was just as measured. He turned to Sevana, not satisfied to leave her in such uncharitable company, but seeing little recourse. “You have a good night,” he said to her privately.

“Thanks for coming after me, Joel,” she said. “And I forgot, with the storm and everything—but I meant to offer to watch the sheep while you get your permit tomorrow, if you’re still going.”

“I have to go,” he replied. “And if you could watch them for me, I would feel much easier about them.”

“I’ll plan on it.”

Fenn banged the stove shut.

“Thanks, Sevana, I appreciate it.” Joel started for the door, but then turned back to Fenn who stood waiting for him to leave. His earth-brown eyes held Fenn’s glacial-blue ones as if he and Fenn were the only two people in the room. “You take good care of her, or you’ll have me to answer to,” he warned him in hard tones.