Be Mine Page 2

“I’m not a bleeding heart, Mr. Peters. I just happen to feel the earth has been manhandled enough.”

  He wanted to groan in frustration. He’d offered sympathetic advice and she’d responded with a blind argument that never failed to inflame him. “Did it ever occur to you that reclaimed land can be more useful, more beautiful? That hundreds of families have roofs over their heads and food to eat because mining provides jobs? Don’t condemn an entire industry because of a few careless operators. Some of us love the land as much or more than you do.”

  “I haven’t met anyone like that yet,” she spat back, refusing to be pacified.

  Chad’s temper rose. “You wouldn’t recognize him if you did.” Her earnestness was at least honest. He turned on his heel, retracing their trail, and threw over his shoulder, “It’s time for lunch. You’re welcome to eat lunch in the shack with us — if you don’t think you’ll be contaminated.”

  Unaccustomed to having someone walk away from an argument about the sensitive subject, Sabina remained in place, still furious, but with no one to vent her anger on. She called after his retreating back, “Thanks for your gracious invitation. I prefer to eat in my car. Alone.” Looking down, she discovered Sock poised beside her. He looked from his retreating master to her, as if urging her to follow and apologize.

  “Sock!” The angry call confused the animal further, and he whined softly. A second summons prompted another whine, but a shouted “Socrates!” eliminated any indecision. He loped after the receding figure, his head ducked apologetically.

  Head high, Sabina followed, maintaining a generous distance from the figures ahead of her. She needed time to cool her temper. During her time with the department, she had yet to see any beautiful reclamation. Nor had she seen land use that showed any signs of creativity. Each site had looked like a sheep which had just been sheared with dull clippers.

  A sudden gust of wind penetrated the layers of her clothing, reminding her that she was dawdling. She hurried toward the welcome shelter of her car. The prosaic comfort of the contents of her thermos, a wine-kissed beef soup she’d made over the weekend, would calm her down.

  She needed to regroup. Why hadn’t her boss warned her that Chad Peters resembled an illustration from a volume of Norse legends? He’d treated her as if his veins were filled with water from a Norwegian fiord — not that she expected anything else. Sabina made a face at herself in the rear view mirror as she settled herself. The man was an enigma, and she had no time in her life for enigmas, no matter how attractive they were.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The fare in the shack was somewhat rougher, but Chad paid the knowing smirks he saw on the faces of the men gathered there little heed. Their silence at his entrance indicated a considerable shortening of the odds. The lady from the state had a clear, carrying voice, so her knowledgeable questions and insistence on details hadn’t gone unnoticed by the observant crew. He was also sure their argument had been overheard and duly reported.

  “She goin’ to find anythin’ wrong, Chad?” queried Moogie Burns, a grizzled man in his fifties.

  “She’ll find we exceed all the standards, just as always.” After this morning, he agreed with the scuttlebutt; her knowledge of mining laws and the technical aspects of the industry was excellent.

  The men who worked for Calico took pride in their work. Chad knew there wasn’t one who cut corners, even during his absence. The betting on the collision of wills between the inspector and Calico’s manager offered an entertaining diversion from a winter that had seemed to linger forever. Chad had become aware of a subtle shift in the odds just before the muddy state car had floundered into view.

  In spite of his annoyance at Sabina’s peremptory manner, her sharp intelligence impressed him. What unnerved him was his instant recall of the way her dark lashes fanned her cheek as she bent over the clipboard she carried — of the throaty timber of her voice. He had no business noticing the attractiveness of a representative of the state.

  “Any word from that foreigner who wants to buy Calico?”

  Returning to the present and a change of subject took effort. “Which one? Last time I checked, there were offers from consortiums in three different countries and an American oil company. They want all the mineral rights they can get, Moogie, and we have a nice selection of contracts in the office files.”

  He felt every gaze in the shed focused on him. Although he knew they trusted his judgment, each man was aware a change of ownership meant the possibility of layoffs.

  “You gonna sell?”

  “It’s not my decision. Calico and her contracted mineral rights don’t belong to me. I’m just the manager.” That wasn’t the complete truth. He had the authority to sell — and occasionally he was tempted. Sometimes he was so tired he could drop.

  Chad’s thoughts returned to the deputy inspector. He looked forward with great pleasure to showing her his before and after color prints documenting the quilt-like fall color scheme of turning leaves and the summer prairie grasses and spring wildflowers growing on landscapes he and his family had restored, to pointing out the wide-ranging present use of the land.

  Chad brooded over his coffee mug, his hands wrapped around it for warmth, unaware his absorption was causing comment among the crew crowded into the makeshift lunchroom.

  “D’you s’pose he’s figurin’ out a way to do her in?” said the burly dragline operator.

  “Naw, he’s considerin’ how to make a pass without getting kicked in the shins,” jibed another. “Figures he don’t want to limp the way Bobbie did this morning.”

  The ribald laughter at Bobbie Russell’s expense broke into Chad’s reverie, bringing him back to his surroundings in time to hear Bobbie’s defensive response to the good-natured ribbing. “She’s a tough one. My shins ache like fire.”

  “I came close to firing you this morning. When you’re on my time, you keep your hands to yourself. What you do after you leave here is your own business,” Chad said sternly. “If she gets her back up, she’ll find fault where there isn’t any. Leave the lady to me. I’ll take care of her.”

  * * * *

  Sabina arrived outside the shack just in time to hear the last sentence. “Take care of me, will he!” she muttered to herself. She hated the chauvinism of the industry. Then out of the blue came a vision of herself with the blond mine manager in a social setting. Her knees went weak. What on earth was wrong with her?

  As a gust of wind struck her back she stiffened and thrust out her jaw. “We’ll see who takes care of whom.”

  Sabina’s peremptory knock on the metal door brought silence within. A silence finally broken by Chad’s voice, heavy with command. “Tom, I want Jonas out here by two o’clock.”

  As the door swung open, Sabina stood her ground, keeping her eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond Chad’s shoulder. “Hadn’t we best be getting on with the inspection, Mr. Peters?”

  Chad favored her with an equally frigid stare, whistled to the dog, and set out. As if frustrated that he hadn’t tired her with the swift pace of the morning’s inspection, he walked faster. She could have assured him his unreasonable hope that he could prove she hadn’t the stamina for the job was a hollow gesture; instead she kept up with him uncomplainingly.

  “All I see in the topsoil are roots. Where are the trees?”

  “We logged before we dug. What good lumber there was we sold and the rest went as firewood,” he replied.

  “That took time. Why did you bother?”

  “Many people around here still heat with wood. We gave it away.” His said with detached amusement. “We have the men and the equipment. `Waste not, want not,’ as my grandmother said.”

  “Just how many businesses do you run, Mr. Peters?” Sabina asked suspiciously.

  “Enough to make a living.” He turned to lead the way.

  She had no choice but to follow. His lithe movements distracted her, just as they had earlier. Normally, she had no difficulty concentrating on the business at hand. S
abina reconciled herself and enjoyed the view.

  “Chad! Ma’am!” The call came from the elfin figure trudging up the slope, and Sabina recognized the rosy cheeks beneath the yellow hard hat as those of the avuncular old man from the mining office.

  Chad’s voice was bland, as if Sabina were a tiresome duty to be shed. “Jonas will take over, Miss Hanlon. I can’t be late.”

  Refusing to show how much the casual dismissal annoyed her, Sabina asked neutrally, “Shall I meet you here tomorrow?”

  Chad paused in midstride. “No. I’ll see you at the office at eight. You can inspect the paperwork.”

  He walked swiftly away, and Sock, who obviously knew the source of his nightly meal, followed him.

  * * * *

  Even though Jonas set a more leisurely pace, he was more loquacious than his boss, and Sabina was exhausted by the time she parked in front of the address the little old man supplied. At least the house looked welcoming.

  His directions hadn’t been hard to follow. The little town had only two main streets that crossed each other a the single stop light. “A big white house with gingerbread around the porch, just north on Center Street. It’s on the left, between two brick houses.”

  Resting her head on the back of the seat, Sabina visualized a huge, claw-footed bathtub and a thick layer of jasmine-scented bubbles. She wondered what time her hostess served dinner. She opened the car door, wrestled her luggage from the trunk and trudged up the crazy-paving walk. The front door opened before she could pull the burnished brass bell handle.

  “My, it’s getting cold again. You look tuckered out. What you need is a hot bath before dinner. There’s plenty of time.” Kindly hands pulled Sabina over the doorstep. “Sit down and take off those muddy boots.” The thin, graying woman pointed to a gleaming deacon’s bench as she closed the door.

  Sabina automatically obeyed the brisk command while she attempted to break into the flow of words filling the cozy foyer.

  “I was real glad Jonas called about you. Haven’t seen a new face around here since Christmas, when my nephew brought a young lady who didn’t fit at all! He said he was thinkin’ of her reputation. Bullfeathers! It was plain as the nose on your face she wasn’t worrying none.”

  Clara Kincaid stopped for breath, dark eyes snapping, and Sabina seized the opening, although she swallowed laughter at the aspersion cast on the unknown nephew’s friend. “This is really very kind of you, Mrs. Kincaid. I’m sorry to be so late.” She shrugged out of her bulky coat, hanging it on the wooden hanger her hostess produced.

  “No problem. I gave up tryin’ to eat early like other folk a long time ago. Daniel fiddles around after basketball practice and Erica’s out takin’ care of everybody’s business but her own.” Her capable hands set the boots aside before Sabina could protest. “Don’t worry about these none. I’ll just clean ‘em up for you when they’re dry. Let me show you your room. You’re real private in back. You can come and go as you please.”

  The “room” was actually a small, beautifully designed suite. Sabina glanced around the compact sitting room reached through a discreet door set in the dining room paneling. Mrs. Kincaid’s voice flowed around her. Was her dazed condition the result of exhaustion or the unending chatter of her friendly hostess?

  “There’s the bedroom.” She said, pointing at a louvered door. “The bath’s just off it. There’s a no ‘count kitchen, so’s you can fix yourself somethin’ late at night, and I put soft drinks and snacks in that little refrigerator, but you don’t have to cook anythin’. I’ll have meals for you.” She paused, casting a severe glance around the room as if to be sure it was spotless.

  Sabina seized the opening. “This is so modern. Did you build this addition so you could take in guests?”

  A shadow crossed the older woman’s face. “This was for me, so’s I could be near my son’s family and still come and go like I want to. Zack and Marie died on the Ohio River five years ago come spring. Their boat exploded.”

  The remembrance stilled the torrent of speech only momentarily, then she brightened, “Someone had to keep a home for the children, so I just moved upstairs. Seems a shame to let this go to waste, so when there’s a need, I take people in. I like to see new faces now and again, and that motel down the road is downright common.”

  Sabina congratulated herself for having landed on her feet. Grinning conspiratorily at her hostess, Sabina answered, “I know. I drove past on the way in. Remind me to thank Jonas.”

  “Hmph! Him. He’s gen’rally dumber than most, but at least he had the sense to send you to me. Supper won’t be for an hour or so. The twins aren’t home yet, and my nephew’s goin’ to be late. He always is. He’ll burn himself out tryin’ to do two things at once, but there’s no way out of it.” She turned abruptly and disappeared through the paneled door.

  Sabina swooped up her small case and clothing bag and headed for the bathroom. If she found a stall shower she knew she would cry from disappointment.

  Half an hour later she emerged, rejuvenated by the jasmine- scented water in the capacious white tub. The dark red bathroom carpet pampered her feet and a radiant heater warmed the air.

  Warm, clean and relaxed, Sabina decided her unsettling response to Chad Peters earlier in the day loomed larger in her memory than in reality. The transient nature of her job brought her into contact with virtual strangers every few days. After a night’s sleep she would see him as an ordinary man, and the momentary flutter his coffee-colored gaze gave her nerves could be dismissed as a figment of her imagination.

  Sabina luxuriated in the slide of lace-trimmed satin over her skin. She pulled on a softly pleated deep blue wool skirt and matching cashmere sweater over her one feminine vice. If her job required sturdy, practical clothing, she could at least feel a little glamorous underneath it.

  As she slipped into narrow matching flats, she reached for her hairbrush to whisk her simple haircut into place. The mirror reminded her that in her preoccupation, she’d forgotten makeup. Shrugging, Sabina did a rush job with blusher and eye shadow.

  “That should do it,” she said, grateful her thick lashes passed muster without mascara. She made her way through the small bedroom, stopping only to test the lovely, springy bed with her hand. “I’m going to enjoy you tonight,” she promised.

  The thump and beat of rock music assaulted her ears as she entered the main house. She followed its compelling rhythm past the oak table set for five, through an old-fashioned arch, and across the hall, where she stopped abruptly, her hand resting on the polished wood of a second oak-framed arch.

  As unnatural poses went, the scene in front of her took the prize. An athletically built blond teenager was bent backwards, her hands clasping her ankles while she balanced on her toes. An equally blond young man sketched rapidly on an artist’s block.

  “Hurry up, Daniel. I’m breaking in half, and I’m afraid he’ll catch us,” the girl pleaded.

  Sabina knelt beside the absorbed artist and peered over his shoulder. The sheet held four other completed drawings, one of the girl standing on her head and three others in equally gymnastic positions. Each mirrored the strength and grace of her young body with minimal strokes of soft lead. The thick pencil moved as an extension of the boy’s long, blunt-tipped fingers.

  The swiftly moving pencil made one last series of shading. “Done, Eric. You’d better comb your hair. When I’m famous I’ll immortalize you in oil . . . only I’ll make you look dignified.” He noticed his audience belatedly. “Excuse me, ma’am. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “I didn’t want to interrupt genius at work. Those are fantastic drawings. May I look closer?”

  He extended them hesitantly. “Sure.” He cast a nervous glance toward the hall before continuing, “You must be the lady from Natural Resources. Gran said you were here. I’m Daniel Kincaid.” He rose to his feet.

  “And I’m Erica,” the girl said.

  Sabina looked up, her breath catching as she stared at the
tall, golden-haired adolescents. “Viking children,” she murmured involuntarily. Daniel’s masculine, high-cheekboned face was feminized in his sister, whose head came nearly to his ear. “I’m Sabina Hanlon. I’m sorry I peered over your shoulder, Daniel, but I was fascinated by how quickly you were working.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t interrupt. I was about to die, and I couldn’t have matched the pose later,” Erica responded. “We wanted to get this done before our cousin gets here. He . . . thinks Daniel takes advantage of me, which of course he doesn’t. We’re twins, you know.”

  “I’d sort of guessed that,” Sabina said wryly. “I’ve heard it’s impossible for one twin to take advantage of the other.” Erica had been about to say something else, then had substituted what sounded like a lame excuse.

  Daniel shifted his feet, as self-conscious as it was possible for close to six and a half feet of muscles to look. “This is an art class project. The Unnatural Human Form. Eric is a perfect model.” He winced as his sister’s elbow connected with his ribs. “I mean, ah, she’s almost double jointed.”

  “Good recovery, Daniel,” Erica teased.

  Their exchange amused Sabina, who looked more closely at the sketches. “I’d say you’re on your way to an A.” She returned the drawing to him. “You’d better put this someplace safe. I’d hate for your sister to have to go through all that again.”

  More relief than seemed necessary swept over the boy’s face as he put the sketches in the window seat. At the sound of the front door opening, Erica murmured, “Just in time.” She rushed past Sabina shrieking, “Chad! You beast, you’ve been back two whole days and haven’t come to see us till now. Why not?”

  Sabina turned in time to see the man in the arch brace himself before Erica’s strong young arms engulfed him. Before the head of hair much the color of his own obstructed her view of his face, he smiled broadly. Chad Peters was tall, but this Viking girl cousin was just a few inches shorter. She groaned inwardly as Daniel joined the two, muttering to herself, “I should have known. There couldn’t be many people in a town this small with lion manes like that. What a fun evening this will be.”