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Chapter Four
It made a difference in their relationship.
The forced intimacy of the night before didn’t draw them closer together. Rather, it created a schism of uneasiness between them. Their conversation the following morning was stilted. They avoided making eye contact. They dressed with their backs to each other. They moved awkwardly. Their motions were jerky and unsure, like those of invalids who had just regained the use of their limbs.
Taciturn and withdrawn, Cooper whittled her a pair of crutches out of two stout tree branches. Aesthetically, they weren’t much to rave about, but Rusty was immensely grateful for them. They allowed her mobility. She would no longer be confined to the bed.
When she thanked him, he only grunted an acknowledgement and stamped off through the underbrush toward the stream to get water. By the time he returned, she was accustomed to the crutches and was hobbling around the clearing on them.
“How does your leg feel?”
“Okay. I cleaned it with peroxide myself and took another pill. I think it’s going to be okay.” She had even managed to dress in her one remaining pair of slacks and put her boots on. Enough of the soreness was gone that the additional pressure of clothing didn’t irritate the wound.
They drank from the thermos in turn. That passed for breakfast. Cooper said, “I’d better start building that shelter today.”
They had awakened to find their cocoon dusted with snow. This time the flakes weren’t merely grains; they were real and ominous, harbingers of the first winter storm. Both knew how harsh the winters in this area could be. It was imperative that they have a shelter to use until they were rescued. If they weren’t rescued, a temporary shelter would be of little consequence, but neither wanted to think about that.
“What can I do to help?” she asked.
“You can cut up that suede jacket into strips.” He nodded toward a jacket that had belonged to one of the crash victims and handed her an extra knife. “I’ll need plenty of thongs to tie the poles together. While you’re doing that, I’d better see if we’ve got food for dinner.” She looked at him quizzically. “I set some snares yesterday.”
She glanced around her apprehensively. “You won’t go far, will you?”
“Not too far.” He shouldered his rifle and checked to see that he had pocketed a box of ammunition. “I’ll be back before the fire needs to be refueled. Keep the knife and rifle handy, though. I haven’t seen any bear tracks, but you never know.”
Without another word he turned and dissolved into the dense screen of trees. Rusty stood leaning on her crutches, her heart thumping fearfully.
Bears?
After several moments, she shook off her paralyzing fright. “This is silly,” she muttered to herself. “Nothing’s going to get me.”
She wished she had a radio, a television set, anything to relieve the oppressive silence. It was only occasionally broken by the cracking of twigs and the rustling of leaves as unseen forest animals scurried about on their daily forages. Rusty’s eyes searched out these silence-breakers, but they remained hidden and thereby more intimidating. She couldn’t put Cooper’s mention of bears out of her mind.
“He probably said that on purpose just to frighten me,” she said out loud as she viciously sliced through the tough suede with the knife he’d left behind for her use. It was smaller than the one that constantly rode in the scabbard attached to his belt.
Her stomach growled. She thought about fresh, hot and buttery breakfast croissants, toasted bagels and cream cheese, warmed glazed donuts, pancakes and bacon, ham and eggs. That only made her hungrier. The only thing she could do was to fill her empty stomach with water.
Soon, however, drinking so much water created another problem. She put it off as long as possible, but finally had no choice but to set aside her handiwork. Painstakingly, and without a smidgen of grace or coordination, she stood up and propped her arms on her crutches. Going in the direction opposite to that Cooper had taken, she found a spot in which to relieve herself.
As she struggled with her crutches and her clothes, at the same time checking for creepy crawlies on the ground,
she marveled that this was really Rusty Carlson, real-estate princess of Beverly Hills, seeking a place in the woods to pee!
Her friends would never have guessed she could come this far without going stark, staring mad. Her father would never believe it. But if she lived to tell about it, he would be so proud of her.
She was in the process of refastening her pants when she heard the nearby movement. Swiveling her head in that direction, she listened. Nothing.
“Probably just the wind.” Her voice sounded unnaturally loud and cheerful. “Or a bird. Or Cooper coming back. If he’s creeping up on me as a joke, I’ll never forgive him.”
She ignored the next rustling noise, which was louder and nearer than the last one, and moved as fast as she could back toward the camp. Determined not to do anything so cowardly as to whimper or cry out, she clenched her jaw in fear as she stumbled along over the uneven ground.
All her bravery deserted her when the form materialized from between the trunks of two pines and loomed directly in her path. Her head snapped up, she looked into the beady eyes, the hairy, leering face, and let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Cooper was in a hurry to get back, but he decided to dress the two rabbits before he returned. He had told himself that he wasn’t testing her fortitude when he’d gutted the rabbit where she could see it.
But he knew deep down inside that’s exactly what he’d been doing. Perversely, he had wanted her to cringe, to retch, to get hysterical, to demonstrate some feminine weakness.
She hadn’t. She’d borne up well. Far better than he’d expected her to.
