“I stayed out of sight, and did nothing that would attract him.” Nothing on purpose. She pointed out the window, where the sun was descending. “Isn’t it kind of late to do any scouting tonight? I would have thought you’d wait until tomorrow.”
He shrugged good-naturedly. “It didn’t matter whether the helicopter came out this evening or tomorrow morning, so I decided to spend the night. Like I said, I didn’t think anyone would be here.”
“It’s not the kind of place you make a reservation.”
He laughed. “I guess not.”
The last of the sun’s rays streamed in through the western window, glittering with motes of dust. “There’s plenty of room on the floor,” she offered resignedly, “so you might as well stay. I’ve got dibs on the bed, such as it is.”
Again one dark eyebrow quirked upward. “You sure?”
It was her turn to shrug. “Have you got any ID?” He reached two fingers into the breast pocket of his shirt and fished out a leather wallet. She studied the formal government identification, took one of his business cards and handed back the wallet. “Good enough for me.”
She stood up from the table and crossed to the cupboards, where she had stored her cooking gear and food. “I was going to make myself something to eat. Are you hungry?” It might be after nine o’clock but she’d napped through dinner.
“I ate before I left, but I wouldn’t say no to a cup of coffee.”
Using a minimal amount of paper and kindling, she managed to get the pot-bellied stove going in a reasonably expert fashion. The chimney rose for a couple of feet, then made a right angle and vented through the back wall of the cabin.
Earlier she’d checked it for bird nests and squirrel pantries, so she was fairly certain she wouldn’t smoke them out.
She put water on to boil. While it was heating, she assembled her percolator coffee pot, scooping grounds into the metal basket and snapping on the lid, then placing it next to the pan on the stove top.
Alex headed for the door. “I should finish securing the ’copter, make sure it’s set for the night.” She nodded briefly as she poured pasta into the pot.
Through the small window over the counter she watched him head first to the north edge of the mountaintop. He paused on the brink to scan the valley below.
The main trail from Longworth came up the steep but relatively accessible south side. The north side had a more gradual slope, leading into a deep but wide valley, rising again to more mountainous peaks beyond.
Dusk was lowering, and she knew it would be no use searching for anything tonight. Alex Weaver appeared to come to the same conclusion as he shrugged then strode to his machine.
The door was still open, and the breeze blowing in was noticeably cooler than an hour ago. She mixed shredded cheese in with the pasta, stirred it with her fork, and ate right from the pot. Carrying it with her, she wandered out the door.
Turning away from the helicopter, she found a convenient spot, and settled down on crossed legs to enjoy the final minutes of the day.
She sighed as she scraped out the last of the macaroni and licked off the fork. She had come to this lonely mountain hoping for some time alone as a way to rejuvenate after a busy year at university. The conservation officer’s abrupt appearance had put paid to her solitude, but she consoled herself with the fact that he would probably be leaving the next day.
Catching poachers in the act was practically impossible, and convictions were usually precisely and painstakingly constructed by the careful gathering of evidence. If Alex Weaver found the carcass tomorrow, he’d be gone before nightfall, and she’d be alone as she wished.
She clambered to her feet and paced back to the darkened cabin. Treading through the gloom to her backpack, she pulled out a small, battery-operated lantern, placed it on the counter, and switched it on. It lit the tiny room nicely. The coffee started perking, so she pulled her mug from the cupboard and rustled up a sugar packet. She hoped the pilot had brought his own necessities, as she hadn’t brought enough dishware for entertaining. Through the window over the washbasin a dark shape was still moving around the helicopter. She dragged a chair closer to the stove, put her feet on the fender, and sipped her coffee.
The stove was centered to the back wall, about three or four feet into the room, and the remains of the fire gave off a cheering warmth. She leaned her head back to stretch her neck and glimpsed the steel ring of the trapdoor set in the ceiling.
On her feet again, it wasn’t much of a stretch for her to grasp the metal handle. It opened easily, dropping down on its hinges, and a small ladder slid toward her from its resting-place on the door.
Carrying her mug, she stepped up and onto the top floor.
Chapter Two
The sky was a blanket pricked with stars, cuddling the curve of the watery moon, like a mother with her baby in the crook of an arm. It was easy to pick out the constellation all Canadian children learn first, the edge of its ladle pointing the way to the North Star.
The door below shut with a muffled thud, then she heard steady footsteps mounting the ladder. A voice at her ear said, “Amazing, isn’t it.”
Without turning her head, she smiled. “Easy to forget how many stars there are, when you spend too much time in the city.” He stood at her side, his shoulder brushing hers, silently gazing at the cosmos. “Makes me wonder about those people who won’t even discuss the possibility of intelligent life out there.”
He rested on his palms against the window sill, and glanced sideways at her. “You must admit, it’s a very uncomfortable concept. Especially if they find us first.”
“I guess that’s one way to think of it. Me, I wonder what they might be like.”
He turned to her. For a moment the romance of the scene filled her senses: a man, a woman, as alone as Adam and Eve. The scent of pine trees and wildflowers. No sound but the wind. It was not a smart way to feel about a man she’d met scant hours before, even if he did seem safe and sexy and sane. She broke the look and moved away, resting a shoulder against one of the corner posts. A small oblong of light from the lantern in the room below escaped out the window and lay on the ground. Serrated tops of trees were a lighter darkness against the obsidian of the sky. The helicopter cast a metallic gleam as it slept under the moonshine.
She heard a rustle, and turned to see Alex with one foot on the top step of the ladder. “Any more coffee?” he asked.
She nodded. “I don’t have a mug for you, though.”
“Brought my own.” He disappeared gracefully through the opening.
She stayed where she was a little longer, absently tracing the grain in the wood of the window frame with a fingertip. Then she, too, returned to the room below.
He stood with his hips against the counter, cupping a mug in his hands. She lifted the chair she’d put near the stove, carried it across the room, and slid it back underneath the table, then rubbed its chipped, painted shoulders.
He drained his cup, and placed it on the counter. “I figured I’d spread my bag upstairs.”
“You’re more than welcome to the floor down here if you like.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s all set to be a beautiful night.”
“It’s up to you.”
An awkward silence drooped over them, as if, like her, Alex wasn’t sure how to say goodnight. He grabbed his pack-sack. “Guess I’ll head up then. See you in the morning.”
“Sleep well.”
He climbed the treads, reached down, and lifted the door until it clicked into place. His footsteps shuffled quietly for a few minutes, and then all was still.
She snapped off the lantern, leaving the room bathed in pale moonlight. She slipped off her socks, boots and shorts, then slid into her sleeping bag. Crossing her arms behind her head, she relaxed into the snug flannel. The lunar glow flowed through the window near her bed, and she lay awake, enjoying the deep peace. Then, softly, gently, the breathing of the night wind lulled her imperceptibly to sleep.
****
Alex woke early the next morning. His nose was frosty and the air was damp, but the dawn sunlight fell on his cheek with a hint of the heat to come. Last winter, they’d had below average snowfall, and spring had been warmer than normal. Buzz in the office was the forest fire season was going to be frantic.
He certainly hadn’t expected to see anyone else on top of the mountain when he’d headed out the day before, but he wasn’t bothered by the company. June Brandt’s calm and confident air appealed to him, and she seemed well-prepared for a few days away from civilization. He’d been involved in too many search and rescue operations to be lenient toward anyone who didn’t take the wilderness seriously. He was glad she wasn’t one of those.
During the minutes they’d spent contemplating the night sky he’d been caught unaware by the possibilities swirling in the air between them, and had decided retreat was the better part of valour. He was here to do a job, quickly and efficiently. That didn’t stop him from remembering her profile, edged with moonlight: nose a hint too long, sharp chin. Scandinavian, maybe German, heritage, he speculated, especially with all that gorgeous fair hair.
Conscious of June directly beneath him, he rolled up his sleeping mat and bag, raised the trapdoor, and stepped noiselessly down into the room below.
She slept on, peaceful and innocent, curled up on her side with a hand beneath her cheek, bright blond hair scattered about. She breathed deep and even as he slipped past her and out the door to take care of the morning’s necessary business, and was still sleeping when he returned.
He did his best to move silently, but couldn’t avoid the occasional creak of wood on wood, a mildly reverberating clang as he pulled off the lid of the coffee pot, the snick of a cupboard door opening and closing. June shifted restlessly, long legs twisting in the red and blue sleeping bag. Her eyes opened slowly, a frown creasing her forehead.
“Morning,” she said, voice clogged and rough.
“Morning. I was hoping I wouldn’t wake you, but...” he gestured with the coffee pot, “...the only thing that makes the dawn worthwhile.”
“Dawn?” She sat up and wrapped the sleeping bag around her waist, yawning. “What time is it?”
“Six-thirty.”
She groaned. “Nothing like sleeping in when you’re on holiday.”
“Ah, but I’m not. I want to find that carcass today. It’s already been almost a week since the hikers saw it.”
Flipping back the sleeping bag, she slid her legs out. Alex caught a glimpse of strong calves and slim thighs as she snagged her shorts from the floor beside the bed, and in one swift motion pulled them on while getting to her feet. She turned to face him, smoothing her hands down the front of her T-shirt as if trying to iron out the wrinkles.
“Will you make enough for me?” She pointed to the coffeepot.
“Already did.”
“Be right back, then.” Plucking a plastic zip-lock bag from her pack-sack, she headed out the door.
She returned with her hair twisted into a loose bun at the nape of her neck and her face shiny from a cold water wash. A grumpy pout still teased the corners of her mouth. Alex hid a grin as she walked by.
“How do you plan on finding the bear?” she asked as she tucked her bathroom bag away and tidied up her bed.
He poured steaming coffee from the metal pot into two mugs. “I’ll follow the directions from those hikers as best I can, and keep my eyes peeled. I should be able to spot ravens or eagles scavenging.”
He handed her a mug, and she took a cautious sip. “What’ll you do if you find it?”
He pointed to his pack, next to the door, ready to go. “I’ve got an evidence kit in there: bags, tags, camera. I’ll get as much information as I can from the site. Anything might lead us to the people responsible.” He ripped open a high-energy protein bar and took a bite. “What are your plans for the day?”
June opened a bag of granola and began to munch. “Footloose and fancy free.” She eased onto one of the derelict chairs, propping one foot on the other.
“How well do you know this area?”
“Pretty well.” She made a back and forth motion with her hand. “I have an aunt and uncle with a cabin down below, and we used to hike up once in a while when we came to visit. I haven’t been here by myself for a couple of years, though.”
Any woman assured enough to spend time alone on a remote mountaintop was obviously resourceful and intrepid. Alex found his interest in June growing. He remembered her nonchalant attitude as she told of her encounter with the grizzly, and offered up a challenge. “I could use the extra pair of eyes, if you want to head out with me.”
She didn’t jump at the chance, but considered it as she chewed. “Sure. Why not?”
They cleared away the breakfast remnants and closed the cabin door, blocking it shut to keep out pests. Alex set a brisk pace as they trudged down the north side of Longworth Mountain.
“The callers said they’d hiked about an hour from the lookout before they discovered the carcass,” he said. “It was in a narrow crevasse off to the left of the trail. They didn’t examine it too closely, as they’d just noticed the time, and realized they’d have to hurry if they were going to get back down before dark.” He hitched his pack into a more comfortable position on his shoulders. “We’ll have to keep our eyes open.”
On this side of the mountain, it was easy to believe they were the only people for thousands of kilometres. The ever-present breeze sang through the grasses, underscoring the intermittent melody of bird calls, a subtle chorus to the crunch of boots on rocks and the rustle of swinging arms. The track descended at a shallow angle, with the occasional steep section, dodging around large boulders and switching back on itself. They concentrated on the job at hand and there was little chatter. He was pleased June kept up easily, and after about forty-five minutes they were deep in the wide valley. A brilliant sun beamed down on them.