She awoke to the delicious smell of pancakes and coffee. Turning slowly over on her stomach, she opened her eyes. Dan knelt beside the fire, concentrating on his task. He glanced up at her, smiling. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”
Yawning, Libby mumbled, “What time is it?”
“Six.”
The morning was fresh, clean and silent. Libby marveled at the beauty around her. A pair of scolding blue jays flew overhead and then landed in a tamarack nearby, eyeing the food. She wriggled back into her jeans and struggled out of the cotton T-shirt. By the time she was dressed, breakfast was ready. Dan motioned for her to sit on a log he had drawn up and handed her a bowl filled with steaming, savory wheat pancakes.
“There’s the maple syrup,” he said, pointing to the plastic container on the log.
She inhaled the nutty aroma of the pancakes, her mouth watering. “I’m famished!” she declared.
Joining her on the log with his own bowl, he set the crisply fried bacon between them, giving her a spoon “That’s quite a turnaround for a lady who said yesterday that she didn’t eat breakfast.”
“From now on,” she promised, “I’ll never doubt another word you say.”
He snorted. “Except on this damn impact planning right?”
“Right,” she agreed. She cut into the pancakes, noticing small dark berries scattered throughout them
“What are these?” she asked, pointing at them.
“Hmm? Oh, huckleberries. I spotted some bushes down by the stream this morning and figured it was a good addition.”
She ate voraciously. Finally, after the meal, she said, “Dan, I don’t know whether it’s the air or the elevation, but this has got to be the best meal I’ve ever eaten. It even tops the best restaurants on the Wharf in San Francisco.”
He seemed pleased by her compliment. “Just hang around a little while longer, city lady, and I’ll have you longing to return to these mountains after you go back to your office.”
Libby wrinkled her nose. “The office, my job...” she said softly. “It all seems like part of another world.”
“It is. Maybe in the coming weeks you’ll see why I prefer the backcountry to the cities.”
She gave him a searching look. “Dan, why do you dislike cities and people who live in them so much?’’
“I think you’ll be able to answer that when you go back to San Francisco.”
Not satisfied with his answer, she probed more deeply, encouraged by his openness during the last day. He had lost so much of that hard veneer he wore like armor. The mountains had worked some kind of magic on him. Perhaps it was because he was uncomfortable in big cities or dealing with big corporations. “Is it because you think city people play games?” she insisted.
He cradled his bowl and spoon in the palms of his callused hands. “Let’s just say that I think people reared in the city forget some of the natural laws that apply to both man and animal. A golden rule, I suppose.” His blue eyes met her gaze. “For instance, when you’re in my territory, I make it a point to help you with your gear, to give you any information that might be valuable. In the city you can’t even stop someone on the street and ask for directions anymore. All you get is a neurotic stare as if you were a mugger. And you can’t walk the streets alone at night for fear of rape or robbery.” He shook his head. “The only way you get injured out here is if you’re blind, deaf or dumb.”
Libby saw his point “You’re making me feel ashamed,” she said. “But people have to live where there’s money to be made. That’s why cities exist.”
Dan rose, smiling grimly. “Thank God I can have my cake and eat it, too. My line of work doesn’t require me to go to the city to earn my pay.”
Standing, she tossed him a brilliant smile. “The only time you have to go to the city is when the chief biologist from Cascade Amalgamated asks for your presence in her office.’’
He took her bowl and a small washcloth from a plastic bag. “I didn’t find it that painful.” And then he added, “Matter of fact, it was a pleasant surprise in one way.” A wicked gleam came to his eyes. “I figured I’d be stuck with some old man who was bent over with arthritis and who would gripe every step of the way on our trek. Instead I find a bright, beautiful woman who I’m discovering has a very commendable streak of naturalness still left in her.” He halted, holding her startled gaze. “I’m surprised the city hasn’t jaded you, Libby.”
She tossed back her head, laughing. “Dan, you oversimplify things!” She picked up her towel, washcloth and soap from her pack and accompanied him down the gentle incline toward the small but swift-moving creek. “You know,” she drawled, “cities aren’t monsters, and the people in them aren’t evil trolls.”
“You certainly aren’t.”
“Give us a break. You should feel compassion for city dwellers, not disdain.”
Dan knelt downstream of her, washing out the bowls. “Now you’re overreacting,” he accused lightly. “And, believe it or not, I do go into the city every once in a while.”
Libby gave him a dramatic look, dipping the washcloth into the icy water. “Whatever for?”
“I occasionally like to see a play or go to hear a symphony.” And then he added dryly, “I suppose you thought I was the Hermit of the North Woods?”
She grinned, leaning down and splashing the water against her face. The icy tingle left her skin feeling taut and refreshed. “Good guess, Dan.” She was about to tease him about his poor wife, who was probably locked away in some dark little cabin, but decided against it. There was no ring on his left hand, but that didn’t mean anything. Suddenly she doubted all of her neat assumptions about Dan Wagner. Was he married? And then she asked herself why it should matter to her if he was. Libby frowned, highly uncomfortable with her shortsightedness, disliking her reaction to the question. She would never knowingly date a married man. She stole a look at Dan. He was so different from the men she had known in her life! And that difference made her feel incredibly exhilarated. He made her happy. That thought alone twisted the knife of loneliness more deeply into her heart. If he was married, she had to destroy those blossoming feelings.
Four miles from camp, Libby called a halt. They had reached the crest of a mountain range. A flowing green carpet of trees met her gaze in every direction. She saw the gleam in Dan’s eyes as he stood there, surveying the countryside. Funny, she mused, how they saw the woods in different ways. He saw it in terms of mature trees, wood products and dollar value. She looked upon the forest as an incredibly beautiful cape thrown about the earth’s shoulders by nature. One that should not be disturbed.
Unrolling the map and pinning it down with four rocks the size of his hand, Dan called out the coordinates for each mountain. Libby took the binoculars and began to decide what environmental tests and evaluations would have to be initiated to return the forest to its original beauty when the timber had been logged. Hours fled by as they worked in unison. He told her where he would be placing the all-important logging roads and she scribbled down the environmental measures that would have to be taken. More than once he looked over her shoulder and made bitter comments. The actions she was suggesting meant spending more money than had originally been allocated, and that began to create a rift between them.
Over a lunch of trail mix, cold spring water and carob bars, Dan pursued the argument.
“I get the impression that you think I’m going to rape the mountains,” he growled, lying on the pine-needle carpet beneath a white fir.
“I don’t mean to imply that, Dan,” she said. “I know you’ll take care. Doug Adams had high praise for you. And I see how much caution you take here on the trail. When we leave a site, it’s as if we’d never been there.”
He scowled. “As it should be.”
Libby tried to lighten his mood. “You remind me of myself when I got defensive about your attacks on city living. I think you’re overreacting to my suggestions for this logging operation. It may cost more money my way, but in the long run the environment will be restored quicker and the state guidelines will have been satisfied.”
“The damn government and their red tape,” he muttered.
“Something we all have to live with,” she assured him. “How do you think I feel? I’m wrestling with the federal people on five different projects right now. Sometimes the US forestry regulations are simply preposterous, and I have to gather evidence to change their minds.”
One dark eyebrow lifted. “Oh? You mean you defend us poor loggers sometimes instead of attacking us?” he mocked.
She met his gaze unswervingly. “It may come as a surprise, but I often end up in court, defending the company on certain issues.”
A wry smile tugged at his mouth. “I suppose Amalgamated is going to hire a contracting company to come in and do this nitpicking impact study?”
“Yes. It will be my responsibility to send out the bid package to the contractors.”
He rolled over on his back, tucking his hands beneath his head. “I don’t want you to take this personally, Libby, but damn, most of these biologists and botanists go berserk with their studies. They drive me crazy with their uncanny ability to find some lousy bug and proclaim it rare. Then they tell you that because the damn bug occupies only a certain number of square miles, we have to bypass the area because we would be ruining the lousy insect’s home.” He looked up, his blue eyes stormy. “They don’t know compromise. Do you?”
She nodded patiently. “I believe I do.”
“Well,” he sighed, “we’re sure as hell going to find out, aren’t we?”
Libby got up, smiling. “For better or worse, we’re on this project until its completion,” she agreed.
He gave half a laugh, one filled with derision. “Almost as bad as being married to the wrong woman. Instead it’s a company.”
Her heart leaped in response to his analogy. “Marriage doesn’t always end in divorce, you know.” She gave a shrug. “Not that I’m one to talk.”
He got lightly to his feet, shrugging into his pack.
“These days,” he groused, his tone less tense, “it’s safer to live with a woman than marry her. Divorces are a dime a dozen.”
“You sound bitter,” she hedged, walking at his shoulder as they started down into the valley.
Dan pursed his lips. “Maybe,” he agreed. “I’ve seen too many of my friends take the plunge and then get divorced.’’
“You never did?” Her heart rate rose as she stole a glance up at him.
“I did. But that was a long time ago,” he returned, his voice suddenly flat.
Libby’s brows drew down into a slight frown. She sensed that the subject was a closed matter between them. She respected his silence, but couldn’t help being confused as well as curious.
For the better part of the afternoon they walked down the steep slopes. Toward the foothills it became more rocky, and Libby had her first opportunity to try to properly balance the pack and her body weight on some precarious rock formations. The temperature was intense, the sunlight reflecting off the heated granite. She had tied the red bandana into a headband to stop the sweat from running down into her eyes. Her face was flushed, a sheen of perspiration making it gleam. Dan was slightly ahead of her, tossing directions over his shoulder when necessary. Looking down at her watch, she saw it was almost 3:30 p.m.
Just as she called out to Dan to stop and take a break, Libby saw movement on a ledge only inches from her left arm. Startled by the quick, sudden movement, she froze. Just as the hissing of a rattlesnake broke the drowsy afternoon air.
“Libby!”
Her head snapped in Dan’s direction as the disturbed rattlesnake coiled itself, ready to strike. Everything happened in slow motion. Or so she thought at the time. Dan’s face paled as he heard the rattler and he spun around, holding out his hand to make her freeze. A startled, frightened cry lodged in her throat and automatically she leaped away from the ledge. The footing was unstable and the sudden weight shift of the pack threw her completely off balance. The gray and black rocks rushed up to meet her and at the last second she threw her hands up to protect her head.
Something cool and wet was being dabbed against her face and Libby moaned, weakly lifting her arm. Her eyes fluttered open, momentarily blinded by the brightness of the sun sifting through leaves overhead. She felt Dan’s arm tighten around her body for a moment as she regained consciousness.
“Just lie still,” he commanded softly.
Libby winced as he placed the cloth against her left temple. “That hurts,” she muttered thickly. How long had she been out? She felt comfortable being supported by his lean, hard body, her head resting against his shoulder. His heart was pounding thunderously in his chest and she began to realize he was frightened or upset by what had taken place. “The snake?”
Dan’s mouth thinned. “Dead.”
She closed her eyes. “Good.”
She licked her dry lips slowly, trying to remember the exact chain of events. Finally she reopened her eyes, struggling to sit up. Her pack was off and she was lying beneath the shade of a scruffy oak tree. Frowning, she realized he must have carried her off the rocky slope. She looked up as if to confirm her unspoken thought
“How do you feel?” he asked, pouring a bit more water from his canteen onto the cloth. Again he gently dabbed at the cut on her temple, sponging away the blood
“I...don’t know yet. Give me a second. What did I do, cut myself?” she asked, reaching up.
Dan caught her hand. “Don’t. I’m going to put some antiseptic on it as soon as I can get the bleeding staunched. It’s just a laceration. You were damn lucky you fell back on that pack first and then rolled onto your side,” he breathed tensely. “Next time, Libby, don’t panic.”‘
Her golden eyes darkened with pain at his reprimand. “I’m sorry....”
“I suppose you’re going to cuss me out for killing the snake. I just upset the ecological balance up on that rock slope.”
She winced inwardly at his cutting tone. Why was he being so damn nasty? She closed her eyes, inclining her head forward to stop the aching that radiated outward from the cut. She felt him disengage himself and suddenly felt bereft as he rose.
“Stay here,” he ordered tersely. “I’m going back to get your pack. If you feel dizzy, lie down.”