Soon they would need more wood. She debated only a moment before going in search of her scattered clothing. She found her underpants and slacks beneath the covers, pushed to the foot of the mattress. The rest lay scattered across the floor or on pieces of furniture where they’d been tossed.
When she had assembled the articles, she dressed hurriedly. Her boots had dried. The leather was stiff but no longer cold and damp. She put on her gloves and wound Tierney’s scarf around her throat.
The last thing she did was use her inhalers.
When she stepped out onto the porch, she immediately noticed that the clouds had cleared. Although the sun was well below the mountain peak, the eastern horizon was a golden pink color. Overhead the sky was spattered with stars, still visible against the deep indigo blue. Gauzy clouds scuttled above the peak, carried by a wind strong enough to bend the treetops and toss about branches.
Despite the wind, the day held the promise of rescue.
Nevertheless, they must prepare as though help would be unable to reach them today. The logs in the stack of firewood on the porch were thick. Without being split, they would be slow to catch fire. Tierney had managed to split smaller ones with the hatchet, but it would be useless against the wood that remained.
She looked across the clearing in the direction of the toolshed. It hadn’t snowed that heavily since Tierney’s return late yesterday afternoon, so the path he had cleaved was still discernible.
She’d used her inhalers. It wouldn’t take her but a few minutes to walk to the shed and back. Despite his insistence that the ax wasn’t in the toolbox, she knew it was. He’d just overlooked it.
She wasn’t foolish enough to try to split the logs herself. She’d save that chore for him. He wouldn’t be pleased with her for fetching the ax, but after he’d saved her life, the least she could do was spare him this one task. The fresh air felt good, even if she had to breathe it through Tierney’s scarf. She also welcomed the chance to stretch her legs after being cooped up for the better part of two days.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she went down the steps and started along the narrow path that Tierney had made through the snow.
Tierney. Strange she had never called him Ben. Even that day on the river, she’d used his first name only once, and then he had corrected her. “Everybody calls me Tierney.” It suited him.
Stirred by the memory of how many times she’d spoken his name last night in passion, she hugged her coat about her and buried her smile deeper inside his scarf. His scent seemed to have been woven into the wool fibers. She relished it.
Happier than she’d been in a very long time, she crossed the clearing without mishap.
And then she entered the woods.
• • •
William Ritt led Dutch and Wes from his carport to the back door of his house, then through the kitchen into the living room.
“There are still some live coals. I’ll have a fire going soon.” He crouched in front of the grate and went to work.
Dutch was wild with impatience. Every minute he spent idling in neutral worked to Begley’s advantage. He didn’t need a fire. He didn’t want a fire because of the time it would take to build one.
Still, he was hesitant to bully William to the point where he would defy Dutch’s threat of impounding the snowmobiles and withdraw his offer of their use. So he stood by and watched as William added logs to the grate and stirred the coals.
Before it slipped his mind, Dutch took a two-way radio transmitter from one of the zippered pockets of his ski suit. He nudged Wes and pressed it into his hand. “In case we get separated up there. Remember how to use it?”
Wes nodded. “Press the button to talk, release to listen.”
“Right. It’s good for up to seven miles.”
The logs had caught. William stood. “There, that’s better. I’ll get Marilee up to make some coffee.”
“We really don’t have time,” Dutch said. “Just give us those keys and we’ll be on our way.”
“It won’t take but a few minutes. She’ll fill a thermos for you to take along.” He motioned them closer to the fire. “Make yourselves at home.”
“Really,” Wes said, “I hate for you to disturb Marilee on our account.”
“She won’t care,” he said and started down the hallway.
Dutch, figuring he might just as well take advantage of the warmth while he could, approached the fireplace and extended his hands toward the flames. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw William approaching a door midway down the hall.
Even if Dutch didn’t have a deadline, he would still be against waking up Marilee. That would be an additional person who knew his and Wes’s plan, and the more people who knew about it, the better the odds were of having it screwed up.
Too late now.