Howard took two strides over to the chair, grabbed up the big bath towel, and in two strides had brought it back. “You get changed before you catch pneumonia,” he said. “Then we’ll go and get the children.” He pushed her firmly into the bedroom and closed the door before she could argue.
Sensible man, she thought as she stripped and wrapped the towel around herself and started rubbing. Crude but cosy little room, with plank walls and almost filled by the bed and a dresser, but at least there was a rug to stand on. She heard voices; the door behind her had swung itself ajar. She had very good ears.…
“… heard of children turning up on a rescue?”
The kid laughed. “No. But I warned you that the Oracle wanted brains. Got any ideas?” Rescue? Oracle? She finished drying and inspected the garments on the bed; the jeans were a perfect fit. There was a comb in the hip pocket, but they were all brand-new clothes. What was going on here? Oracle? The bra was right, too. Was Graham behind this? He couldn’t be, and it wasn’t his style but it looked as though she had been expected. It sounded that way, too.
“She won’t come without her kids, obviously.” Come where?
“Then take them.”
“But we were told to bring clothes for one.”
How could she have been expected? She had not known herself where she was going and, now that she had got here, she didn’t know where she was. They must have confused her with someone else, been expecting a woman whose name they did not know… a woman her size?
The voices got more distant, and the rain noise on the roof almost covered them; she could only make out that there was arguing. Then Howard said, “… and you cover us from here,” and that seemed to be the end of the matter. Good job he was in charge and not that other one.
There were sensible shoes her size— and very few women took a four— and rubber boots. No complaints about the organization. She stepped back into the main room, and Howard was wearing a big yellow slicker like hers and rubber boots, also. He was holding an oil lantern.
“What side of the border is this?” she asked as she thunked across to him in the boots.
A curious hesitation… “What side did you want?” he asked. “I was heading for Canada.”
He nodded and exchanged a meaningful glance with his companion. “Then you have reached safety,” he said. “You are running from someone, aren’t you?”
She had nodded before she knew it. “Is it so obvious?”
He smiled that comfortable, shy smile. “Killer and I were sent here to help someone in trouble. You look as though you qualify… Ariadne. Please regard us as friends and as on your side— whatever it is. Okay?”
“But… but it was the merest chance I got here…” He nodded in agreement. “I know that and I’ll explain later. Meanwhile we have to bring your cubs into the ark. How far is it?”
“The end of the driveway.”
“How yes, all right.” He turned away to the door, and the kid sniggered at some secret amusement.
Howard opened the door.
Hooooooooowl
He swung back to study her. “They’re still a long way off,” he said, as though expecting her to start having hysterics, then looked over at the kid again, who was hovering near a window.
“They might frighten Al,” she said, “but Lacey knows about them. Still, I’d like to get back…” He didn’t move from the doorway, blocking her path.
“Knows about what?” he demanded. His eyes were narrow— with worry? “Coyotes,” she said.
“What the devil is a coyote?” Howard demanded, and again looked at his companion. She turned in time to see the kid shrug.
Two grown men in the very middle of the continent and they didn’t know coyotes? She smiled politely at the joke, and it wasn’t a joke.
“Wild dogs,” she said. “Between a fox and a wolf. They howl a good fight, but they’re quite harmless. I rather like the noise— wild and lonely. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of coyotes, Jerry.”
“Killer and I are strangers in these parts,” he said, obviously embarrassed. “How harmless is harmless?”
“Totally,” she said. “Unless they get rabies, I suppose. And they’ll take a dog for sport, if they get one.”
He nodded. “I’m going to assume they’re rabid. Let’s go rescue Alan and Lacey.”
Four
There were odd things going on— no doubt about it. She hoped it was just the bone-deep fatigue, the weariness that felt like a plastic bag over her head. She hoped it was just that and not an attack of D.T.s coming on. Please not that— it had been months!
First the roadway; she was sure that she’d skidded off just after the turn, but when they had gotten to the car— and it had been farther away than she’d thought— there had been no sign of the junction. The driveway had kept straight on through the trees. Those trees— spruce or fir— she couldn’t remember those, either. Had she really been driving in her sleep, or close to it? There had been fence posts, but no trees. Now there were trees and no fence posts, very thick, dark woods in fact, showing in the glow of the lantern.
Lacey and Alan had been still asleep, thank the Lord. They had wailed and fussed at being wakened. There had been no way to keep them covered by the raincoats, so they had both been soaked and chilled and weepy by the time Jerry and she had carried them up to the cottage. And the howling was certainly coming closer. Coyotes or not, her scalp had prickled at the sound, and she had been glad to get to the porch. Even Killer’s horrible grin had been almost a welcome sight.
Then there were the clothes. She’d taken the kids into the bedroom, stripped them off, and wrapped them in towels. She was sure that she’d thrown her raincoat down in a corner, but when she looked for it, it had vanished. She could not recall taking off the boots, and those had disappeared also; she must be punchy with fatigue. Then Jerry had tapped on the door and handed in a couple of green ponchos, suggesting that they try those— and they had fitted very well and made Lacey laugh, and Alan had laughed with her, not sure why.
Clothes— when she went back out to the main room, Jerry was working on supper at the range. He’d taken his shirt and sweater off, and was wearing a white tee shirt. He blushed quite pink at her look of surprise, and, although she had started to trust him, some of her first uneasiness came rushing back. Some sort of prolonged striptease? Perhaps it was hot beside the stove, although the rest of the place was cool. Then she saw that Killer had done the same, although he had put on one of the sleeveless things they called muscle shirts, which he certainly had not been wearing earlier. He did have more right to wear it than most. He saw her looking at him and gave her that sleepy inviting look again and then grinned as she turned away quickly.
Odd things going on, but she didn’t feel D.T.-ish, just impossibly weary and tired, too tired even to feel very worried now. She was so totally at the mercy of these men that she might as well just trust them. There was nothing she could do except scream, and nobody to hear— and so far they seemed to be helpful, sympathetic, and well-meaning.
“Sorry I can’t offer you a drink, but we seem to be running a dry ship.” Jerry was peeling onions with a butcher knife and had a pan of potatoes boiling on the range. She felt another surge of relief, another notch loosened on the belt— if there was nothing to drink, then she needn’t worry about that.
“Maybe the kids would like some milk?” he suggested. Of course they would.
She wondered why the furniture was put the way it was, with the sofa facing the front door and the armchair beside it facing the bedrooms. Who wanted to sit and stare at doors? Then Killer had pulled up a wooden chair in front of the range and he had Lacey on one knee and Alan on the other, like his-and-hers elves in their green ponchos. She had never seen them take to anyone that fast before; certainly not Alan, who was a suspicious little devil. Killer and Lacey were chattering away as though they’d known each other for years, while Alan clutched his milk in two hands and cultivated a white moustache.