Guarding Miranda (11 page)

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Miranda caught the direct flight from San Francisco to Winnipeg, Manitoba the morning of June fourteenth.  Russ had booked her flight from Winnipeg to the small city of Dauphin, an hour’s drive south of her final destination.

Waterhen
. 

Tired, Miranda had slept during most of her flight from San Francisco to Winnipeg. 

Why was she tired? 

Only because she had tossed and turned throughout the night, with nightmares of the shooting giving way to steamy dreams about the tall, sexy, stormy eyed Brian Logan with arms that could break a man or, in her dreams, hold her so tight it took her breath away. 

Brian.

What a thorn in her thoughts he had turned out to be and a pleasant thorn at that. 

Since meeting him, he was never far from her mind and it caused her an incredible amount of inner moral conflict. 

Haunted by both the loss of her fiancé and by introduction to her incredibly handsome real-life hero, she had experienced more than her share of sleepless nights lately.

Richard.

Her lover, her fiancé and her irreplaceable friend, gone these past two months and never to be forgotten. 

Unless, of course, Brian was in the room. 

Brian...

Dark haired and dark eyed, he was a distraction in her mind. 

Albeit, a rather pleasant distraction. 

Richard. 

Brian. 

Both gentleman, in every meaning of the word.  How her thoughts sometimes bounded between the two, looking for similarities and differences.

Such thoughts were not fair to Richard.

She felt it was such a betrayal.

She was dishonoring his memory with her attraction to the bodyguard.

Turning her thoughts away from them both and back on her trip, she looked out the plane’s small window and tried to immerse herself in the wonder of what she saw.

From Winnipeg, the small craft flew over patchwork fields of various farmed grains and staples, looking quite like a green hued quilt that stretched out in all directions, bisected by roads and highways, snaked through with thin, sparkling rivers, spotted intermittently by a small lake or other body of water. 

On the last stretch of her flight, from Winnipeg to Dauphin, the small airplane flew over a large sparkling lake that stretched on in the horizon. 

According to the friendly pilot, this was Lake Manitoba. 

Uncle Russ had said that the lake was full of fish, though nearly not so many as the region’s older inhabitants remembered.  She looked forward to doing some fishing in the Waterhen River that Russ boasted was home to some of the best walleye fish he’d ever caught.

They passed over seemingly endless forests of deciduous and evergreen trees and the odd small town but all in all, Miranda got the impression of a vast and virtually untouched space where the population indeed seemed sparse. 

It was a refreshing change from the metropolis of San Francisco and the surrounding cities of Berkeley, Oakland and San Jose. 

Flying over that region was something of an eyesore – the stretch of buildings and expressways tainting the wonder of nature. 

Here, high in the air above Manitoba, she was privy to a vastness of pure and natural beauty. 

Even the farmland seems to compliment the landscape, rather than interrupt it
, she thought.

Miranda realized, as they began to descend toward Dauphin, that she was really going to enjoy her trip up to this fertile natural paradise.

Their descent was slow and steady. 

To her left was the blue-green expanse of the tree covered Riding Mountains.

To her right, the small, sprawling city of Dauphin. 

And ever approaching was the ground and with it the ball of nervous anticipation that had welled up in Miranda’s stomach.

The small airplane finally approached the landing strip and her stomach twisted nervously as the wheels of the plane touched down on the dry runway.  The pilot announced the time – four thirty seven – and the temperature outside – twenty two degrees Celsius – and finally, they careened to a stop.

She wasn’t wearing the sling any longer but her left arm was weak as she rose from her seat and so she was cautious in using it.  Her physiotherapist, Mark, had been adamant that she keep her arm in the sling for a few more days but what was a few more days? 

She felt fine. 

A little weak, a little sore in the upper left muscles of her arm but fine.

Ready for anything.

Certainly ready for
this
adventure.

She left the airplane with the help of the pilot, who winked at her, appreciating her polished beauty.

“Enjoy your stay,” he said, his hand lingering on hers for a moment.

“I intend to.” She replied, taking her hand from his. 

She slung her purse and overnight bag higher on her shoulder and took her suitcase from the baggage handler with her right arm, leaving her left side free. 

She thought she must look odd, with all of her luggage on her right side but was pleased to see that there were few people about who might notice this. 

With the exception of the woman and child with whom she had shared the flight, the pilot and the baggage handler, the boarding area was vacant. 

She used her left arm to open the door of the small airport and pushed with all of her weight. 

Miranda figured she must have looked like an invalid, what with the method she was using.  Nevertheless, she was soon inside the air conditioned lobby and walking over to the counter marked
Mountainview Rentals
and announced herself.

“Hi, my name’s Miranda Fowler – I believe I have a Ford Focus reserved?”

The grey haired man behind the counter stirred lazily, as though she had caught him half-asleep. 

A toothpick adorned one corner of his frown, drooping for a moment, only to peak skyward as he smiled. 

There were a few crooked teeth in his smile but the smile was a friendly one.  She noticed the man had grey eyes. 

Eyes not nearly as grey as the ones that had haunted her dreams the past two nights but grey eyes the color of mercury.

They seemed silver as his smile broadened. 

Smiling back, she set down her luggage.

“Yeah, that’s right, Miss Fowler.” He lifted a pair of keys from behind the counter. She was glad to see that there was a keyless entry remote attached to them. “There’re some things I need you ta fill out.” There was a soft thud as the pages of the rental agreement hit the counter. “And o’course I’ll need to see some ID.”

“Of course.” Once she had finished filling out the forms, with little help from the friendly eyed man, she produced her California driver’s license and noticed his smile deepen.

“You’re the first Californian I’ve ever seen without a tan,” said the man, handing back her ID. “Some girls don’t look good, with ivory skin, makes ‘em look sick, like the underbelly of a pickerel fish.  But on you, it looks good.”

“Thank you.” She managed a smile as she acknowledged the strange compliment and slipped her ID back into her purse.

“My name’s Earl.” He handed her the copies of the forms she would need. “You run into any trouble on the road, get lost on your way to Waterhen, you call on yer cell phone and let me know. Mind you reception cuts out a little further down the way but I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

Her green eyes widened with alarm. “How did you know I was going to Waterhen?”

“Yer Uncle Russ called this morning, said for sure you’d be coming today.  Asked me to put a spare map of Manitoba in the car you’re renting.  Nice guy, yer uncle.  His given me lots of business in the past, him and his company men.” He paused, to point out of the window, at the short row of rental cars parked there. “Yours is the burgundy one.  She’s got a full tank of gas.”

“Thanks, Earl.” She gathered up her luggage.

“Yer welcome. Have a nice day, Miss Fowler.”

After wrestling her luggage with one arm out of the airport and into the car, she withdrew the hand drawn map of Dauphin her uncle had made for her and was glad to see that navigating her way through Dauphin was going to be peanuts. 

Easy as pie.

She started the car and pulled out of the airport parking lot, heading for the one main street that cut right through the heart of Dauphin.  She passed a honey farm on the way, a few restaurants and then a small shopping mall.  Then she saw a familiar sight – a Boston Pizza – and decided to pull in there for supper. 

There were a few other familiar landmarks, landmarks famous the world over, she supposed: a Pizza Hut, a McDonalds, a Kentucky Fried Chicken and two A&Ws.  From within Boston Pizza, as she looked toward the mall, she could see the blue of the WalMart and breathed a small sigh of relief. 

If there was a WalMart around, she’d be fine – aanything she needed would be there. 

Paranormal romance novels and pharmacy included.

To think that her aunt and cousin had doubted her ability to survive the wilds of Waterhen!

Ha!

She would show them!

Mind you, Waterhen was an hour’s drive from Dauphin. 

She thought of the tiny towns she had seen from the airplane, separated by countless miles of tree line and farmland. 

Unsure of what to expect, she found herself asking her friendly waitress, Tabby, if she knew where Waterhen was.

“Oh, sure. It’s about an hour from here,” said the enthusiastic young brunette. “My parents have a cottage out there at Hutchinson’s Marina, I go with them sometimes.”

“What do you think of the place?” Miranda asked, wondering what to expect.

“It’s small but friendly.  You’re headed that way?”

“For the summer.” If it turned out to be a Hell hole, she would abandon the place for her aunt’s favorite Sicilian spa, as promised but for now she was giving it the benefit of doubt. “My uncle has a cabin there, a river front property.”

“If you don’t mind the mosquitoes and love to fish, it’s a paradise all its own.” Tabby was kind enough to inform her. “Can I refill your iced tea?”

“No thanks, I should get going.  The grocery store there closes at eight o’clock on a weekday, I’m told.”

“That’s Waterhen, alright. They roll up the streets at eight o’clock. And it’s just the one street, really.”

Settling the bill, Miranda left Dauphin and was soon cruising at the posted speed limit, a hundred kilometers, passing green and yellow fields broken up only by the occasional bit of bush. 

Over the next hour of driving, her left arm began to ache. 

She tried to do the majority of the steering with her right arm.

The farmland grew sparse, the cow herds and structures fewer as she approached Waterhen.

The radio signal, tuned to a Dauphin station, seemed like it was getting riddled with static. 

“Not sure if that’s a bad sign or a really good one.”

Further and further down the highway she went.

Chapter Six:

The further she went into the verdant growth and wide open fields of farmland, the more and more she felt like she really was on her own, getting away from it all.

Getting away from the hustle and bustle, the madness and chaos of city life.

She saw a sign marked
Tyson Prairie Emporium - 3 KM
and knew that Waterhen was nearby. 

The Tyson Prairie Emporium was the name of the store her uncle had mentioned and the place where she was going to be buying her initial groceries this very night. 

A few minutes later, she was looking at a tower-like structure that jutted over the treetops and as she neared it, noticed that it belonged to a station concerned with fire hazards or so read a warning sign.