Thanksgiving Groom. Brenda Minton

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СКАЧАТЬ Smokey the Bear?”

      “Rangers, police, people who rescue other people.”

      “They’ll follow you to a ravine in the middle of nowhere. Now please, stop talking.”

      “I can’t.” She started to shake—uncontrollable shaking—and her breath came in short gulps. “Please, just let me go.”

      A million thoughts whirled through her mind. She was miles from anywhere. She was alone with a man who had disappeared into the woods. She had walked hours after ditching the Jeep. No one would know where to look for her. She didn’t even know if she was going south. She struggled, thinking if she could get away. If she could get down and run.

      He stopped walking and peered down at her and then he shook his head. His arms tightened around her trembling body. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

      “Right, of course you’re not.” She wanted to stop holding his shoulders, but she couldn’t convince her hands to cooperate. She needed to wipe away the tears. Common sense told her to be brave, to show him he couldn’t hurt her. “I know karate.”

      He laughed. “That’s great to know. You could have used it on the bear.”

      “You think I’m joking. I took a class in self-defense.”

      “I believe you. But you won’t need to use it on me. I’m taking you to a nice safe place and a sweet older couple who will look after you.”

      “There are other people out here?”

      “There are.” He started to walk again and her body was still trembling. Shock, fear and cold were sinking into her bones. “Calm down, we’ll be there in a few minutes.”

      She nodded, but her eyes were blurring and her vision became a pinpoint. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to fight him. Instead the world faded. She heard him telling her to breathe. She was sure she was breathing. She could feel her heart pounding hard. And then nothing.

      Chapter Two

      Tucker took large steps in the direction of the old lodge he’d called home for the past few months. It was his own fault she’d passed out. He should have told her about the Johnsons sooner. He should have seen the panic in her face, noticed the second when she realized how alone she was. He jostled her a little, but she didn’t wake up. This was just what he needed.

      Or didn’t need.

      The lodge appeared—a dark, shadowy place, hidden in the mountains. Unused for over twenty years, it didn’t have electricity and they were using an old pump for water. This place was his haven.

      And now he had to share it with a screeching, high-maintenance female. He continued up the path. She was getting heavier. She wouldn’t thank him for mentioning that.

      He carried her up the steps, then had to maneuver to get the storm door open. The inside door opened as he pulled the storm door. Mrs. Johnson pushed it all the way open for him to get inside. Her eyes widened when she saw the woman in his arms.

      “Where did you find her?”

      “In the woods.”

      “Is she okay?” Mrs. Johnson followed him down the hall to the small parlor they used most often now that it was cold. It was easy to close off, easy to heat.

      “She’s fine. She got herself worked up and then she passed out cold. A little exhaustion, a lot of fear.”

      “Who is she?”

      “My guess, Herman Lear’s daughter, Penelope.”

      “Oh, my. Are you sure?” Mrs. Johnson pulled a throw blanket off the couch and he took the hint and placed the woman on the worn seat of a sofa that they’d had to beat the dust out of just a few months earlier. The Johnsons had been here about a month before he showed up.

      “Yes, I’m sure.” He’d seen her pictures. He knew her father. She was Penelope Lear. And she was the last person he wanted to see.

      “Goodness.” Wilma Johnson clucked, the way she’d clucked over him more than once.

      “Wake up.” He patted Penelope’s cheek as Mrs. Johnson stood next to him, leaning in, watching. “Ms. Lear, time to wake up.”

      She blinked and looked at him. “Where am I?”

      “A hunting lodge.”

      “People live out here?” she murmured.

      “People do. It isn’t necessarily the most inhabited part of Alaska, or the most civilized, but here we are.”

      She scrambled to sit up. Mrs. Johnson patted her shoulder. “There, there, sweetie, you’re safe. And don’t worry about Tucker, he’s lacking social skills. We’ll take good care of you until we can get you back to safety.”

      “Thank you, Mrs….?”

      “I’m Wilma Johnson. My husband and I were staying here. And then Tucker came along to stay with us.”

      Penelope looked back at him. “They think you’re dead.”

      “I’m obviously not. But why would they think that?”

      “They found your plane, blood and then no sign of you. They haven’t given up, though.”

      Tucker sat down in the chair near the fire. He needed a minute to soak in the idea that the folks in Treasure Creek assumed he was dead. He hadn’t considered that. He should have, though. Wilma was busy untangling Penelope’s hair, pulling small sticks and leaves from the blond strands. The older woman shot him a look, her lips pursed.

      She was a mother at heart. She had lost her only child, but that didn’t stop her from mothering. She’d been hovering over him for months, trying to fix him, to fix his heart. And it had been a long time since anyone had mothered him.

      “I’m going to make tea.” Wilma stepped away from Penelope and he knew what she was doing. She was leaving them to share their stories.

      He watched her leave the room and then he turned, facing the woman who had sat up, but still held the blanket tight around herself. He got up to put wood on the fire.

      “I was on my way to a friend’s cabin.” He shoved a log into the fireplace, poking it into place with the metal poker and then standing back as sparks shot up and flames licked at the mossy bark. “The plane stalled out on me and I landed on that lake. I did hit my head as I came down, but I managed to get out and to walk here.” He had walked for three days, he explained, and he’d been as lost as he’d ever been in his life.

      “I know they’ve searched a large area around the lake.”

      “I hadn’t meant to cause panic. I even left a note on a tree, that I’d find shelter and that I was on my way to a friend’s cabin. Not that I made it to that cabin. Mr. Johnson found me wandering the woods. Concussion I guess. I don’t know how far I walked from the plane. And you, Ms. Lear, what brought you to Treasure Creek? Are you hunting for СКАЧАТЬ