Reilly's Woman (5 page)

"I didn't know that." She frowned slightly, trying to remember if Lonnie had mentioned the turquoise mines in one of his letters. "About the mines being there, I mean."

"There's a line of turquoise deposits that runs almost directly down the center of the State, starting around Battle Mountain through Austin. At Tonopah it curves north-west. The line would look like a 'J' if you drew it on a map."

"I guess I always thought most of the turquoise was found in Arizona."

"Arizona does produce quite a bit, but mostly as a by-product of their copper mining." His fingers gently pulled her long, wet hair free of the coat collar, smoothing it over her back. "I think it's time we got some sleep. It's going to be long day tomorrow."

The truth was Leah didn't want to stop talking. As long as her mind was occupied with other things, it couldn't dwell on the crash.

"I suppose you're right." she sighed reluctantly, adding a silent "again" to the admission. Her eyelids were beginning to feel heavy. "What time is it?"

"Nearing midnight, I imagine. Are you comfortable?"

"Yes," she nodded, nestling her head closer to his chest. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Silence closed in. Despite the crash of thunder and lightning and the tapping of rain, it was silence. There were none of the sounds of cars and people or streetlights shining through the window that usually lulled her to sleep.

The ground was hard and unyeilding beneath her hip. Her pillow, Reilly's chest, rose and fell in even breathing. The steady rhythm of his heart beat against her ear.

If things had been different, she would have been sleeping in a strange bed tonight, but none as alien as this. And Lonnie would have been close by. Her throat tightened as she remembered that if things had been different, Grady would be alive, too.

"If we'd left earlier," she murmured in a low, choked voice, "we could have beaten the storm to Austin."

"You would be with your brother. I would be with my friends and Grady wouldn't be dead." Leah could feel the vibration of Reilly's low-pitched voice against her ear, unemotional and aloof. "That isn't the way it is. It's best that you accept that."

Tears slid down her cheeks as she bitterly admitted he was right again. But it didn't make it any easier to accept. Her lashes fluttered down, clinging to the tears on her lower lashes.

In the night, her troubled and uneasy sleep was interrupted by a rolling roar that seemed to vibrate the ground beneath them. She stirred, her eyes opening in a frowning blink.

"What was that?" she whispered bewilderedly. She tried to raise herself up on an elbow, but the arm around her tightened and a hand pressed her head against his chest.

"It's nothing to worry about," Reilly answered quietly. "Go back to sleep."

Not fully awake and with her muscles stiffly protesting any need for movement, Leah obeyed. It was probably just the thunder anyway, she told herself.
 

 

 

Chapter Three

 

IT WASN'T THUNDER.

The morning sun was in her eyes, but the light didn't blind Leah to the mound of chipped rock and rubble in front of her. A landslide had completely covered the plane.

Farther up the mountain slope on a rocky ledge, her gaze noted the black hole of a mine entrance. A fallen timber lay across in the opening, supporting only its own weight. Last night's rain had sent the loose tailings from the mine down the slope.

Leah remembered Reilly's warning about it. If they had taken shelter in the plane, they would have been trapped inside or smothered by the gravel debris.

This morning her bones ached from sleeping on the hard surface of the ground and her muscles were cramped from clinging to
the warmth of Reilly's body. Yet somewhere under that mound of rock was the plane, and her discomfort seemed like a very small thing.

Soberly she watched Reilly Smith carefully working his way over the rubble. At each step, the ground shifted beneath his feet, miniature slides of loose gravel rolling away. Then he stopped, kneeling gingerly to push away the rock.

A patch of white was revealed and made larger. Using the length of his left arm as a barricade, he held back the gravel that tried to recover the patch. With painstaking slowness he pushed more rock away with his free hand, digging downward along the side of the plane.

His goal was the baggage compartment in the crumpled nose of the plane. The crash had buckled the door, popping it partly open at the bottom. Leah watched Reilly straining with only one free hand to open it the rest of the way.

When the last fragment of latch released itself, he quickly lifted it up, using it instead of his arm to hold back the gravel. Reaching inside, he wasted no time in dragging out his suitcase, then Leah's two pieces of luggage.

Gravel danced around both sides of the door in warning. He shoved the cases away, letting the rolling rocks carry them away from the plane. Leah held her breath as he slowly lowered the door. The trickle of rocks grew steadily louder as the angle lessened.

Above him, there was an uneasy shifting of rocks, but no fresh slide started when the door was down and immediately covered by slow-moving gravel. Turning, he inched his way down the slope in a half-sitting position to the luggage.

When he stood on firm ground again, Leah let out the breath she had been holding in a relieved sigh. Reilly picked up all three cases and walked to where she stood a safe distance away.

"Now we can change out of these clothes." The grooves around his mouth deepened to suggest a smile.
 

"I can hardly wait," agreed Leah definitely. Although she had dried out considerably from her soaking last night, her clothes still felt vaguely damp against her skin.

"Have you got a pair of jeans in there?" He set her bag and cosmetic case on the ground in front of her.

"Slacks," she told him.

"You'd better put them on, and some flat shoes."

Leah glanced around. The mountain side was sparsely covered with desert scrub. There was not a rock or boulder in sight
large enough to use as a dressing curtain.

"Where can I change?" she asked finally.

An amused light danced in his green eyes. "Wherever you want," he shrugged.

"I mean somewhere private," Leah retorted. "I don't intend to strip in front of an audience."

"I guess you'll have to crouch behind one of the bushes, then." His expression changed to one of complete indifference as he bent to unsnap the lid of his suitcase. "I'm more interested in changing my own damp clothes than being an audience for you."

Pressing her lips tightly together, Leah knelt in front of her suitcase. Her injured left arm was held stiffly across her waist. It hurt badly this morning. She took care not to bump it accidentally as she unlatched the lid and began rummaging through the bag's content for fresh underwear, slacks, and top.

"I wasn't suggesting that you would sit and applaud while I undressed," she muttered tautly.

"Oh? What were you suggesting?" Reilly mocked cynically.

"Just a desire for some degree of privacy" Leah rolled her change of clothes into a ball and placed a pair of flat-heeled loafers on top.

"You can have all the privacy our primitive surroundings will permit." His strong, lean features were impassive.

"Thank you." She flipped the lid of her suitcase shut with a snap.

Rising awkwardly with her bundle, she marched toward a thick clump of sage, her nose tilted into the air. Damn! she cursed silently. She had done it again.

His jesting remark to dress wherever she wanted had not had the suggestive meaning she thought. She had taken offence and defended her sense of modesty without cause. The indignant outburst had been unwarranted and unjustified. The result was that she had been made to look the ignorant fool.

Why do I always put my foot in my mouth? she sighed angrily.

"Miss Talbot."

His low voice halted her steps. She turned hesitantly toward him, suddenly wary, knowing he deserved an apology yet still too angry with herself to make one that would sound sincere.

"What?" she asked, somewhat abruptly.

"Before you put a clean blouse on, I'd like to look at your arm."

"All right," she agreed, and resumed her course to the large bush.

Not until she had shed her damp clothes and put on clean underwear and the olive green pair of slacks did she realize that he wanted to look at her wound before she changed her clothes and not before she put on a clean blouse. The ripped sleeve of her blouse would have given him free access to the bandage.

The lacy edges of her brassiere accented too much the cleavage between her breasts for her to let him see her in only that. It didn't matter that it covered more than her bikini top. She looked with disfavor on the damp, rumpled blouse she had been wearing. She couldn't stand the thought of putting it on again.

"You get yourself into some fine messes sometimes, Leah Talbot!" she muttered to herself.

Picking up the crisp olive and yellow print blouse, she wrapped it under her arms and around her breasts, holding it securely shut with her right hand. With a wry twist of her mouth she decided that she was decently covered and stepped from behind the bush.

The morning air was cool yet, sharply scented by last night's rain with sage. A shiver danced over her bare shoulders. Leah couldn't decide whether it was from coolness or a chill of apprehension.

Reilly was in the clearing where they had spent the night, his back turned to her. He seemed to be buttoning the clean white shirt that hung down over a pair of dark blue denims. The sunlight glistened blackly on his hair.

"Do you want to look at my arm now, Mr. Smith?" Leah asked in a faintly defensive tone.

He glanced over his shoulder, then pivoted slowly, the shirt buttoned halfway. Without finishing his task, he reached down for the first aid kit.

"Yes, I will," he answered smoothly.

Leah walked toward him, holding her head proudly to hide the nervous hammerings of her heart. His gaze moved lazily to the white bra straps over her shoulders. A dull red flush crept into her cheeks.

"I misunderstood what you meant earlier. I forgot about the sleeve," she offered in self-protection.

"I realized that." A dark glow entered his jade eyes, but she couldn't tell whether or not he was laughing at her. "I was going to explain more fully what I meant, but I thought you might launch into another attack before I finished."

"I'm sorry." Leah lowered the angle of her chin by several degrees.

But Reilly was already removing the adhesive strips to examine her wound, accepting her apology without comment. The gentle probing of his fingers made her wince.

"Hurt?" His piercing gaze slid quickly to her face.

"Of course." Her teeth sank into her lower lip, nibbling at it to distract her mind from the pain in her arm.

"It looks clean. Does it feel as if there's anything in it? A piece of glass?" he questioned.

"No. It's just sore." Leah shook her head.

"I'll put a clean bandage on."

She watched as he deftly changed the bandage to a fresh one. Her gaze strayed to the tanned column of his neck and the hollow of his throat where the nugget of turquoise rested. Then it was drawn down the partially unbuttoned front of his shirt where his muscled chest gleamed bronze and smooth like a statue's. It was several seconds before she realized he was finished. Caught staring, she flushed guiltily.

"Thank you." Her fingers tightened on her blouse as his gaze moved over her face.

"You're welcome." There was a mocking inclination of his dark head. Then Reilly turned his back to her. "You can put on your blouse now." With definite overtones of laughter in his voice, he added, "As long as you promise not to watch me tuck my shirt into my levis."
 

Laughing softly, Leah promised and turned her back to him. She carefully eased her injured arm into the sleeve of her blouse, then twisted to find the other sleeve.

As she buttoned the last button, Reilly asked, "Finished?"

"Yes, you can turn around now." A wide natural smile was curving her mouth when he turned around, the dark jade of his eyes glittering brilliantly warm.

"Do you feel better?" He reached down to pick up a denim jacket lying across his suitcases.

"Clean, dry clothes are a wonderful improvement," Leah agreed. "The only way I could feel better is if I'd already had breakfast."

"The tin box sitting over there has some crackers in it," he suggested. "That's the best I can offer in the way of food until I can collect some firewood and get a fire going. There isn't much water in the canteen, so use it carefully," he cautioned.

"I will." She knelt beside the box and unlatched the lid. There was more than crackers inside. There were several packages of dried food that had to be mixed with water and sticks of beef jerky. "I didn't know that charter flights carried food survival kits."

"They don't as a rule," Reilly answered. "Grady was just superstitious."