Hayley’s pleasant sepia-toned dream of walking through a summer meadow, hand in hand with some unknown person she never turned her head to see, melted away under a firm grip on her shoulder that gently shook her awake. Her eyes popped open, and she gasped at the bearded face hovering near hers. Who? What? Then reality clicked into place. Sean. Tension unwound from her muscles.
“Sorry to startle you.” His teeth flashed in a brief grin. “The moon is halfway down into the trees. You were sleeping so well. I hated to wake you.”
“Apology unnecessary.” Hayley sat up beside him, the top of her head lightly brushing the boughs of their shelter. “I was wandering in dreamland.”
No way was she going to explain that statement more thoroughly. Not when she harbored a niggling suspicion that the hand in hers had been his—and that their togetherness had felt utterly right.
“I made more tea,” he said.
“Perfect. You get some rest now.” She patted his sturdy shoulder and scooted out of the shelter.
Mack was sitting by the fire, regarding her solemnly.
“Good not-quite-morning to you, sir,” she said to him.
The dog swished his tail across the ground in an abbreviated wag. She took a cross-legged seat beside him and patted his big head. Appreciation rumbled from his chest. Then she poured herself a mug of the tea steaming by the fire. Her gaze scanned the area and her ears sought feedback. Soon, she relaxed, hearing and seeing nothing out of the ordinary.
Soft huffing and small movements from their shelter indicated Sean settling himself onto the pine bough bed, resting on his uninjured side. Then he went still, and all that showed of him were the bottoms of his boots.
The air had warmed significantly from yesterday’s snowy bluster, but still the breeze was cool enough to chill her cheeks. The tea mug sent warmth through her hands and up her arms while the tea itself warmed her insides. However, her stomach let out a low growl for sustenance liquid alone could not satisfy.
Hayley took the hunting knife from the pack and stepped to the edge of the clearing where several sturdy white spruce trees stood sentinel. With the knife’s edge, she scored vertical lines through the rough outer bark then sliced horizontally at the bottom and top of each set of vertical lines. With the cuts in place, peeling away the outer bark was simple, exposing edible white inner bark that she quickly harvested. Repeating the process on several trunks, she soon possessed a nutritious meal for Sean and herself without inflicting lasting damage on the trees. The white inner bark she’d taken possessed anti-inflammatory properties that would help them both in their healing processes.
She boiled some of the bark for herself and ate it but left the rest to prepare for Sean when she roused him at dawn. He would receive only a few hours of sleep this night, but the coming day promised enough action to keep anyone awake. Hayley shivered though she wasn’t cold. Would the next night find them resting in comfort, safety and warmth? Or would they wind up cold and lifeless as the bare ground?
Hayley firmed her jaw. She couldn’t think like that. Nor could she allow herself to ponder the invitation to the ongoing relationship Sean seemed to be issuing. No matter that she found him attractive on every level. Her heart couldn’t handle the potential cost of opening her life to him.
Then again, in refusing to risk herself, wasn’t she choosing to remain alone and lonely? Hadn’t she been making that choice for years now? What would Kirsten think? A deep ache spread through her core. The loss of her twin sister as a human sounding board had left an unfathomable void in her life.
Would Sean be able to fill that void? She shrugged off the question. It would be grossly unfair to him and to herself to cast any person in the role of completer. In a sense, she’d made this mistake in her relationship with Kirsten, but that had effectively been a consequence of family biology dating from birth rather than a conscious choice.
Yet talking to Sean about Kirsten and allowing him to hold her as she cried had changed something inside her. Opened her eyes. Her conscious choice since the loss of her twin sister had been to close off her relationship options with other people and to constrict her relationship with God. Healthy those choices were not.
Hayley looked upward into the star-strewn sky. The moon was long down past the horizon, but even as she gazed, luminescent streaks and swirls of greenish light began to flicker across the sky. The aurora borealis had awakened. The majestic light show intensified and throbbed through her as if it had become one with her pulse—or her pulse one with it. The beauty would never grow old for her, nor would she want to be away from it for long. But tonight, as the colors morphed in shade and vividness through a gamut of greens, pinks, blues and purples, the majesty humbled her.
Did she even possess the strength to change? Sean seemed to think she was strong, but he was mistaken. She was a mess, a turmoil of weakness and fear. If she didn’t get control of her emotions, she could get them both killed.
God, please help me.
The prayer was weak—thin as broth—but the best she could muster. The most consciously sincere prayer she’d mustered since Kirsten died. A step in the right direction? Time would tell. At least, the fist-like pressure around her heart loosened, and she was able to take in a full breath of crisp air tinged with woodsmoke, pine needles and moist earth.
“Wow!”
Sean’s muted exclamation drew her attention toward their shelter. He stood outside the entrance, hands on hips, staring up at the majestic dance of lights.
Hayley stood up. “You get the aurora in Oregon, too, don’t you?”
“On occasion,” Sean answered, without taking his attention from the sky. “But not like this.”
“I thought you were sleeping,” she said.
“Easier said than done.” His gaze met hers. “My body is exhausted, but my mind won’t shut down.”
“How does your wound feel?”
Sean grimaced. “Uncomfortable, but not intolerable. I’ll lie down again, but I’m glad I got to see that.” He motioned toward the sky.
“Me, too.” Despite the hardships felt throughout her body and mind, a genuine smile broke forth on her lips.
“Stunning,” Sean mumbled as his gaze fell away from hers, and he returned to their shelter.
Hayley’s heart bumped against her ribs. Of course, he was referring to the aurora borealis. Wasn’t he?
She sat hunched at the fire, sipping tea and keeping the flames stoked. Near at hand, the soft burble of the stream lulled her senses. Rustles from the forest betrayed the movements of nocturnal creatures great and small. A distant eerie scream roused her from a semi-stupor and raised the hairs at the nape of her neck. Lynx. The predatory cat was unlikely to prowl too closely to humans or their campfire. The wolf was more of a danger to them, especially if he was not a lobo but with a pack. However, there had been no more lupine howls, either near or far away. Hopefully, the creature had been spooked by their earlier run-in and was now long gone, along with any others that might be with him.
A sharp blast followed by a series of staccato bursts brought Hayley surging to her feet. The breath stalled in her lungs. Gunfire. Faint and distant, yet all too close. Their enemies had anticipated the dawn and were closing in on them.
Sean jerked awake, every muscle tense. The pain from his wound ground through him, but he had no time to care. Supporting the broken rib by holding his left arm tight against his side, he wormed his way out of the shelter and onto his feet.
“Gunfire,” he said. “Our pursuers. Spooked by wildlife. Possibly our wolf or his pack?”
Hayley nodded, already in action, dousing the fire with water from the nearby stream. However, she’d set aside a pair of narrow logs, flaming at the ends. He didn’t stop to ask her reasons for preserving torches. She’d tell him soon enough. Sean collected belongings and made sure they were stowed in the pack. Mack pranced around them ready to go, clearly sensing the urgency.
“We’ve got to stay as far ahead of them as possible,” Hayley said, taking the heavy pack from him as he was clearly not fit to carry it. She handed him his automatic weapon and a torch. “Through the remainder of the night, fire will help hold predators at bay as we move.”
Sean nodded. “If we keep sufficient distance between Traitor Trooper’s bunch and us, they won’t be able to see the fire, and we can ditch the torches—”
“At sunup.” Hayley’s smile flickered. “No moss growing on your wits, Special Agent.”
He snorted and instantly regretted the ambitious use of his lungs. His broken rib was a major liability, but he couldn’t let it slow them down. They were mere hours away from Hayley’s homestead and an impending gunfight. Dangerous by anyone’s estimation, but not nearly as dangerous as allowing the larger party to catch up to them.
Hayley led the way into the forest. Sean followed on her heels, eyes sharp for obstacles that could trip them up or predators that could attack. Mack ranged in a circular zigzag around them—sometimes ahead, sometimes behind, as if guarding the perimeter. The aurora borealis had subsided, leaving the atmosphere truly dark. Even starlight filtered faintly through the tree branches. The light of the torches was welcome and necessary for safe travel. They could have used the camp lantern for illumination, but it was fire that kept wild animals at bay.
Progress was steady but not swift. Sean mentally gave thanks that the terrain was rolling, with periods of gently sloping downward and then sloping upward, rather than steep or rough. Miles flowed uneventfully beneath their feet until, at last, a pinkening sky lessened their dependence on torchlight. Another stream bisected their path, and Hayley asked for his nubbin of flaming log. She doused them both in the water and tossed the wood aside.
“How close are we to your homestead?” Sean asked.
“Close. Only a few miles. We should stop and hydrate and eat something.” She led the way to a fallen log and sat down with a heavy sigh.
Sean perched gingerly beside her but denied his face the right to wince. Kowtowing to pain wasn’t on the agenda for the next few hours when they went to battle.
“They’re going to know we’re coming,” he told Hayley. “We need to have—”
“A plan. Yes, I know.” She dug a clear, plastic bag out of the pack. The bag contained strips of some sort of white substance. “Here. Eat this. I harvested and cooked it last night. It’s cold now and won’t taste great, but it’s good nutrition that will give you energy.”
Sean took the bag from her and regarded the pale offering inside of it with a furrowed brow. “What is it?”
“Boiled pine bark.”
He shot her a sharp glance. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Wilderness survival is serious business,” Hayley laughed, belying her words. “I ate my share while you were sleeping.”
Sean opened the bag, reached in and pinched off a portion of a strip of bark. He brought the piece to his nose, sniffed it, then quickly popped it into his mouth, chewed and swallowed.
Hayley’s gaze never left his face. “What do you think?”
“Tastes like slightly moist, vaguely sweet sawdust.”
Her laughter rang out again. “Apt description. That’s pretty much what you’ve eaten. Though I defy you to tell me when you’ve ever actually ingested sawdust.”
“I did just now.” He eyed her blandly.
“Smart aleck.” Hayley dug out the bag of pine nuts and joined him in consuming breakfast.
They sat in comfortable silence, eating, as the morning birds chorused around them. Mack silently disappeared into the trees. Sean finished what he could stomach of the soggy tree bark, then handed the bag back to Hayley.
Their fingers brushed as she took the bag from him, and something like a mild shock went through him, like what sometimes happened when a person scuffed their feet across a rug and then touched something. Her taut expression gave no indication that she had felt the electrical connection, too.
Sean studied her face. She was pale, except where the cool breeze had whipped color into her cheeks. Her eyes were dark—pensive. Worry lines drew her eyebrows toward each other, and the tip of her tongue was caught between her teeth.
“We’re going to make it,” he told her softly.
Her gaze lasered into his. “You can’t guarantee that.”
“No, but a confrontation entered into without hope and determination is a confrontation automatically lost.”
Her forehead smoothed, and the edges of her lips tilted slightly upward. “Sounds like the sort of proverb my brother would spout in a sticky situation.”
“I don’t know about that, but I do know I have faith in your courage and steadiness under fire.”
She let out a sharp scoffing sound. “I’m glad of your faith because I haven’t had faith in anything for a very long time.”
“Then change the decision.”
“You want me to decide to believe? Just like that?”
“Yup.”
Her shoulders rolled, and she straightened her spine. “Okay.” Her tone carried notes of wonder and trepidation, but also resolve.
“So, what’s the plan?” He gazed down at her. “They know we’re coming. Any surprise attack was blown out of the water when they overflew us yesterday.”
A hint of mischief entered Hayley’s gaze. “They may know we’re coming, but they’ll never see us until it’s too late.”
Sean cocked a brow. “Do tell.”
“Come on.” She surged up from the fallen tree trunk. “I’ll explain en route. Let’s hurry.”
Adjusting the strap of his rifle across his chest, Sean followed her rapid steps. A slight grin stretched his lips. When this woman made up her mind to do something, obstacles would be stupid not to get out of her way. What sort of devious trick did she have in mind now? One thing was sure: being around Hayley was never dull, though a bit mysterious at times.
“What’s this ‘never see us’ option you’ve got going?” Sean asked when they were well underway.
“We come in through the cellar,” she answered without slowing pace or glancing over her shoulder.
“Your cabin has a cellar?”
“Indeed, it does. An old root cellar—dirt floor, dank cement walls. It’s original with the first cabin built on the property. The current cabin is a significant expansion of the original, and modern amenities negated the usefulness of the cellar, so we never go down there. But it still exists, accessible under a trapdoor in the kitchen.”
“And the cellar’s existence helps us how?”
“There’s an old outside entrance. Sort of like the storm cellar setup you sometimes see in the Midwest Lower 48.”
They came to a sparsely wooded area, and Sean hustled up to stride beside Hayley. Mack must have sneaked up behind them because he suddenly trotted past, proceeding ahead of them with his tongue lolling and tail wagging.
“Somebody’s a happy camper,” Sean said.
“Successful hunt I expect,” Hayley answered.
“Back on topic. I get it about the root cellar, but I don’t get how we reach the outer door and sneak into it without being seen. By now, Patterson and company will have locked and/or barricaded every entrance and will be keeping a close watch on approaches to the place. And they’ll know we can’t wait for the cover of darkness to attack. The hunters behind us will catch up before then, and we’ll be caught in a pincher.”
Hayley stopped walking. Sean brought himself to an abrupt halt facing her.
She glared up at him, hands on hips. “Pull your weight, Mr. Hope and Determination. I thought of the cellar, now you think of a way for us to get to it.”
Sean opened his mouth, then shut it again. No words came. Then his thoughts surged past the speed bumps of difficulties his imagination had conjured.
“We’ll need a distraction,” he said.
“Something to keep their focus elsewhere while we—”
“Access the house.”
“Right.” Hayley nodded decisively. “When you figure out what that is, let me know.” She turned and set off even faster than before. “You’ve got about an hour to prove yourself a tactical genius.”
Tactical genius? Sean shook his head as he limp-trotted after her, hugging his broken rib. He needed to come up with a distraction, but she was a distraction when he had to think objectively. His toe hit a hidden rock in the ground, and he stumbled, hissing against a stab of pain in his side. Righting himself, he barely caught sight of her slender figure disappearing ahead of him through a seemingly infinitesimal gap between trees.
A thin smile took form on his lips. Then again, perhaps she was exactly the distraction necessary.