The going will be rough.”
She hesitated but finally handed him the bag. Grey took it gently, unable to believe that he would be carrying Mary Sutter down off this mountain, so close to the home she lived in just five short months ago.
“Has she been with you these last months?” he asked, not turning to leave. There was one other detail he wanted to discuss with her, but he was not in a hurry to broach the subject. Not now. Not after learning that Grace was grieving her sister’s death.
“Yes. She was down visiting me.”
“I’m glad you had some time together.”
“I am, too.”
“Ah…did you happen to change your shoes while waiting for me to get back?” he asked then, deftly slipping his question into the conversation.
“My shoes? No. Why?”
“You’re wearing sneakers, Grace. You don’t have any boots?”
“No,” she said, ducking her head. “Tell you the truth, I completely forgot it was the dead of winter here. I never even thought of boots.”
Damn. Well, he was about to find out just how gutsy, or how squeamish, Grace Sutter really was.
“Then I’d like for you to wear Mark’s boots, Grace.”
“What?” she asked on an indrawn breath, turning to look at the pine tree where the dead pilot lay.
“I’m talking about the difference between making it down off this mountain or not being able to walk because your feet are wet and frozen. Can you do that, Grace? If I get them for you, will you put them on?”
She turned back to look at him. He could see white completely surrounding her beautiful blue eyes, and he was sorry for having to put her through this. But it was necessary.
She suddenly straightened to her full meager stature. “I’ll wear them,” she said, her voice sounding strained.
Grey blew out a relieved breath. He handed the bag back to her and walked over to the pine tree. He bent down, careful of Baby and thankful for the wonderful pack that held him secure, and quickly took off Mark’s boots. He held them up and spanned their length with his hand.
Thank God Mark had been one of the small, wiry Frenchman who populated these woods. He didn’t have size twelve feet. The boots might be a little big for Grace, but with extra socks they should keep her feet dry and allow her to walk well enough.
He’d give his eye teeth to be able to build a fire to dry her out completely before they started off, but every burnable bit of wood was either buried under three feet of snow or covered with ice. Hell, he couldn’t even offer her the security of a flashlight.
He didn’t need a light to lead them off this mountain. He had excellent night vision. And his body produced more than enough heat to keep himself and Baby warm.
But he was really worried about Grace. She couldn’t weigh much over a hundred and ten pounds. She didn’t have his strength or physical endurance. And then there was the fact that she had just given birth four weeks earlier. The trek down the mountain might be too much for her.
She had grit, though, he’d grant her that. He was proud of the way she was taking this all in stride. Not many women would be so calm and cooperative, much less agreeable, after crashing into a mountainside.
She was capable, in her own right, of making decisions for her own survival—but she was putting her trust in him.
That impressed him most of all.
Grey used his pocketknife and cut the belt that held Mark to his pilot’s seat. He pulled off Mark’s jacket next and considered its heft against the one Grace was wearing. It would not offer her any advantage. So he carefully set it over Mark, covering him from the elements.
He still damned the man, but he could not, in good conscience, leave him there unprotected. He shook his head. It had already started. Grace Sutter’s goodness was already creeping into his own damned soul.
He carried the boots back to Grace. She was sitting on the ground again and already had her sneakers off. One of her other bags was open beside her, the contents spilled over the snow.
“I found some dry socks,” she said. “Is there anything in your bag you want to take with you?”
“No,” he told her, dropping down and fitting the boots on her himself. Assured that they weren’t too big, he finished lacing up the last one and took hold of her legs just below the knees.
“How are your legs?” he asked, running his hand over both calves. “Do they hurt?”
“It’s not my legs,” she said quickly, attempting to sidle away. “It’s my back. I wrenched it. But it’s not that bad.” She took hold of his wrists to stop his inspection. “I’d tell you if I were really hurt. I’d let you go on without me.”
“I thought about doing just that,” he admitted.
“Then why don’t you?”
He shook his head, not caring if she could see him or not. “The worry would kill me. I’d rather take it slow and have you and your son right beside me, where I can keep an eye on you both. We can’t build a fire that would sustain itself, and the cold might get to you before I got back.”
She was silent so long that Grey was afraid she was seriously considering that possibility. Which was why he wasn’t surprised by her next comment when it finally came.
“You could take Baby with you,” she said. “I could put on every piece of clothes in our bags. And it’s really not that cold. There’s almost no wind, and the temperature is only a bit below freezing. I would be fine,” she finished on a strangled squeak.
“Slow your breathing down, Grace.” He grabbed the back of her head and gently pushed it to her knees.
“Count to ten between breaths.”
“I’m not hysterical,” she snapped, pulling free. “I’m being reasonable.”
“You’re going with me. Now tell me if you’re still having your woman’s flow,” he said, hoping the quick change of subject would distract her.
Silence met his demand.
“Are you?” he repeated.
“My what?”
“Your woman’s flow. From childbirth.”
All he got was silence again, and then finally, “Are you implying that my hysteria is a woman thing?” she whispered.
Grey pinched the bridge of his nose so she wouldn’t see his grin. “Grace, I need to know only because of the hike we’re about to take. So I’ll ask you again. Are you bleeding?”
“No,” she squeaked after several long seconds of silence.
Well, he had accomplished two things. She had forgotten all about protesting her going with him, and he had managed to embarrass her beyond speech.
His grin widened. He’d probably riled her just enough that she could walk off this mountain by herself.
He stood up, reached down, and pulled her up beside him.
“Come on. We’ve delayed long enough,” he said. “Can you see to follow me?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated. “Try to step in my tracks, and if you get tired, tell me. We’ll take it slow.”
She left without him. Grey hefted the bag holding her sister over his shoulder and ran to catch up. He moved ahead of her, silently laughing to himself.
Yes, Grace Sutter would do.
They walked for nearly an hour before she asked him to stop. Grey found them a place beneath a heavy-branched spruce tree, the only species of tree that seemed to be weathering this ice storm without damage. It protected them from the now driving rain that was only freezing when it connected with something cold. His hair was soaked, and rain was running down the neck of his jacket.
Baby was sleeping. Grey was actually thankful the child was so young. He was content just to sleep and eat, he weighed almost nothing, and as long as he was dry and warm he wasn’t even aware of the peril he was in.
“How are you doing?” he asked, sitting down beside the spot where Grace had dropped like a stone.
“Okay. My muscles have actually limbered up. But I’m sweating to death.”