“Yeah, sure. How are you really?” He knelt down and whipped off the covering of furs. Her bandage was soaked with fresh blood. He quickly replaced the furs. “We’d better stop for the night. Now that the sun has set, I can’t tell which direction I’m going in.”
He was lying, only saying that to make her feel better. Rusty knew that he would keep going if it weren’t for her. It was doubtful that he was afraid of the dark or that inclement weather would faze him. Even though he’d been dragging her for hours, he appeared to have enough stamina to go at least another two.
He circled the clearing and began shoveling pine needles into a pile. He spread the pelts over them and came back for Rusty.
“Cooper?”
“Hmm?” He grunted with the effort of lifting her off the travois.
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
She couldn’t see him clearly in the darkness, but she could feel his shocked stare. Embarrassed beyond belief, she kept her head down. “Okay,” he replied after a moment. “Will your leg support you while—
“Yes, I think so,” she said in a rush.
He carried her to the edge of the clearing and gently lowered her to stand on her left leg. “Brace yourself against the tree,” he instructed gruffly. “Call me when you’re done.”
It was much more difficult than she had expected it to be. By the time she had refastened what was left of her trousers, she was shaking with weakness and her teeth were chattering with cold. “All right, I’m finished.”
Cooper materialized out of the darkness and lifted her into his arms again. She would never have thought a bed of pine needles and animal pelts could have felt so good, but she sighed with relief when he laid her on it and she was able to relax.
Cooper packed the furs around her. “I’ll build a fire. It won’t be much of one. There’s not enough dry wood. But it’ll be better than nothing and might help ward off visitors.”
Rusty shivered and pulled the furs over her head, as much to protect her from the thought of wild animals as the icy precipitation that continued to dust the ground. But the increasing pain in her leg wouldn’t let her doze. She grew restless and finally peeped out from beneath the covering. Cooper had succeeded in building a sputtering, smoky fire. He’d lined the shallow bowl he’d scooped out of the ground with rocks to keep it from igniting her bed.
He glanced over at her and, unzipping one of the many pockets in his coat, took something out and tossed it to her. She caught it one-handed. “What is it?”
“Granola bar.”
At the thought of food, her stomach rumbled noisily. She ripped open the foil wrapper, ready to stuff the whole bar into her mouth. Before she did, she got hold of herself and paused. “You...you don’t have to share with me,” she said in a small voice. “It’s yours and you might need it later.”
His gray eyes looked as hard and cold as gunmetal when he turned his head. “It isn’t mine. I found it in a coat pocket th
at belonged to one of the others.”
He seemed to take brutal delight in telling her that, implying that if the granola bar were his, he’d think twice before sharing it with her.
Whatever his intention, he had spoiled it for her. The bar tasted like sawdust in her mouth; she chewed and swallowed it mechanically. The tastelessness was partially due to her thirst. As though reading her mind, Cooper said, “If we don’t find water tomorrow, we’re in trouble.”
“Do you think we will?”
“I don’t know.”
She lay amid the furs contemplatively. “Why do you think the plane crashed?”
“I don’t know. A combination of things, I guess.”
“Do you have any idea where we are?”
“No. I might have a general idea if it hadn’t been for the storm.”
“You think we were off course?”
“Yes. But I don’t know how far.”
She rested her cheek against her hand and stared into the feeble flame that was struggling for life. “Had you ever been to Great Bear Lake before?”
“Once.”