Two Alone

“What the hell were you trying to do?”

“F...find water,” she stuttered through chattering teeth.

His muttered expletive was so vivid it was almost tangible. He laid his open hand on her forehead to gauge her temperature. “You’re so cold, you’re blue. Don’t try another damn stupid stunt like that again, understand? It’s my job to find water. Yours is to stay put. Got that?”

Swearwords continued to pour out of him like the payoff of a slot machine. He turned toward the fire and began stoking it, angrily throwing firewood onto the smoldering coals and fanning them to life. When the fire was blazing, he crossed the clearing and picked up the limp rabbit carcass he’d dropped on the ground. He was also carrying a thermos, one of the things he’d brought with them from the wreckage. Uncapping it, he poured water into the lid and knelt on one knee beside Rusty.

“Here. I’m sure your throat is dry and sore. But don’t drink too much too fast.”

She cupped her hands around his and raised the cup to her parched lips. The water was so cold it hurt her teeth, but she didn’t mind. She took three deep swallows before Cooper withdrew the cup.

“Easy, I said. There’s plenty.”

“You found a source?” She licked drops of water off her lips.

Watching that motion closely, Cooper said, “Yeah. A stream about three hundred yards that way.” He indicated the direction with his head. “Must be a tributary of the Mackenzie.”

She looked at the lifeless carcass lying next to his boot. “Did you shoot the rabbit?”

“Killed it with a rock. I didn’t want to waste any ammo unless I had to. I’ll dress it and put it on to cook. We can...Oh, hell. What’s the matter?”

Rusty, much to her dismay, burst into tears. The sobs racked her entire body. She covered her face with her hands, but even as dehydrated as she was, tears leaked through her fingers.

“Look, it was either him or us,” Cooper said with agitation. “We’ve got to eat. You can’t be so—”

/> “It’s not the rabbit,” she blubbered.

“Then what? Does your leg hurt?”

“I thought you had de...deserted me. Left me behind beca...cause of my leg. And maybe you should. I’m holding you up. You probably could have wa...walked to safety by now if it weren’t for me and my leg.”

She hiccuped around several attempts to go on. “But my leg really doesn’t make much difference because I’m a washout in situations like this anyway. I loathe the great outdoors and think it’s anything but great. I hate it. Even summer camp never appealed to me. I’m cold. And scared. And guilty for complaining when I’m alive and everybody else is dead.”

She dissolved into another torrent, her shoulders shaking. Cooper let out a long-suffering sigh, several florid curses, and then walked forward on his knees to take her into his arms. He pressed her shoulders between his large hands. Rusty’s initial reaction was to tense up and try to pull away. But he kept his hands there and drew her against him. The promise of comfort was too much for her to resist. She slumped against his broad chest, clutching handfuls of his thick hunting coat.

The clean, fresh essence of pine clung to his clothes and hair—and that appealing, musty smell of damp leaves and fog. In Rusty’s weakened, woozy state, he seemed unnaturally large, as fantastic as the hero in a children’s tale. Powerful. Strong. Fierce but benevolent. Able to slay any dragon.

When one of his capable hands cupped the back of her head, she burrowed her face deeper into the quilted cloth of his coat and luxuriated in the first feeling of security she’d known since the plane went down—even before that, since leaving the hunting lodge and her disappointed father.

Finally the tumult passed. Her tears dried up. There was no excuse for Cooper to go on holding her, so she eased away from him. Embarrassed now, she kept her head down. He seemed reluctant to let her go, but at last his hands slid away.

“Okay now?” he asked gruffly.

“Yes, fine, thank you.” She wiped her moist nose on the back of her hand, as though she did that all the time.

“I’d better get that rabbit ready to cook. Lie back down.”

“I’m tired of lying down.”

“Then turn your head. I want you to be able to eat this and I’m afraid you won’t if you watch me gut it.”

Carrying the rabbit to the edge of the clearing, he laid it on a flat rock and proceeded to dress it. Rusty wisely kept her eyes averted. “That’s what we had our argument over,” she said quietly.

Cooper looked at her over his shoulder. “You and who?”

“My father. He had brought down a ram.” She laughed without humor. “It was a beautiful animal. I felt sorry for it, but I pretended to be ecstatic over the kill. Father hired one of the guides to field-dress it. He wanted to supervise, to make sure the guide didn’t damage the hide.” Blinking tears out of her eyes, she continued. “I couldn’t watch. It made me physically ill. Father—” she paused to draw in a deep breath “—I think I disgusted and disappointed him.”

Cooper was cleaning his hands on a handkerchief he’d soaked with water from the thermos. “Because you couldn’t stomach a field-dressing?”