Timber Boss

By Kay Thorpe

Harlequin Romance, 1978

***

CHAPTER ONE

The battered estate wagon rolled slowly to a stand-still as it breasted the rising curve of the road, the driver jerking a laconic head at the view falling away in front.

"There's Mackinlay, side of the lake. Not much of a place. No more than three hundred folk all told. Half of them work for the Frazer/Patton Company one way or another. You can just about see the saw-mill from here if you squint."

Greer ate up the panorama stretching out before them with searching eyes, forest-covered slopes giving ay to the shimmering expanse of water with the little town nestling about its southern corner, and away in the distance the misted scrawl of mountains. There was a soft, almost liquid quality to the afternoon light, a waning strength in the heat of the autumn sun. Nova Scotia, land of her birth. Twenty-three years since she had left this place. She doubted if it would have changed very much in all that time.

"Planning on staying long?" asked the man at her side, giving way at last to the curiosity which had been eating him all the way up from Baxter's Halt. "Don't 'get many visitors in these parts."

And especially, his tone implied, young women who looked the way she did. Greer's inward smile was wry, recognising the incongruity of her smart town suit smoothly backswept dark gold hair in this setting, s looked what she was, the product of a lifetime's groom ins: smart, sophisticated, and well able to take care herself. Mother would have been proud of her.

"I'm not sure," she said. "It depends how things go." She hesitated before adding, "I'm not really a visitor in that sense. Frank Patton was my father."

"You don't say!" He was looking at her with new appraisal now, lips pursed in a soundless whistle.

"That makes you pretty important around here Come to see what kind of job Ty Frazer's making of it since Frank went, have you?"

"In a way." She cast him an oblique glance, meet friendly blue eyes with veiled grey ones. "You know Frazer personally?"

"Isn't nobody in these parts who doesn't. There' been Frazers and Pattons in Mackinlay for as long as anybody can remember." He waved a hand over the spreading forest. "All that, far as you can see, belongs to the Company. Suppose that's mostly you and now. Few other shareholders. Wish I was one them."

Greer had drawn in a breath as she followed his gesture. It still didn't seem real. Lumber was one of Canada's greatest riches, and she owned a large stake that industry. It made her a wealthy woman by any standards, and that wasn't a status she could easily accept. Marcus should have come with her. He would have handled the whole matter so much better. He w used to dealing with money; not perhaps so much hi own but certainly other people's.

'Mind you," her companion was going on, "here and New Brunswick's about the only places available to private enterprises these days. Lucky for some. The Scots who came over on the threemasters knew what they were about!"

"Are you of Scottish descent too?" she wanted to know.

"You bet. Terry's the name—Gordon Terry. My lot led for farming back there in Baxter."

Her head swung round. "I thought you lived in Mackinlay. Don't tell me you've let me drag you all they out here when I..."

"No trouble," he interrupted easily. "Glad to do it. Transport's not always easy to get hold of."

"But it must be fifteen miles!"

"About that." He sounded unconcerned. "There's another road follows the rail-line up to the mill, but it's tidy piece farther that way." He put the car into mo­tion again, swirling brick-red dust behind them as he beaded along the rough trail. There was a fine film of it over everything; Greer could feel it grit between her teeth when she brought them together. She hoped there would be hot water ready and waiting when she reached her destination. She was going to need a bath after all this.

Her destination. Once it had been her home. If it was true that the mind retained all impressions gathered from the moment of birth, then locked away in her subconscious was the memory of the house where she had spent the first year of her life. Would she feel any-thing when she saw it again, she wondered? Would the files click open on that far off babyhood and let nostalgia trickle through for what might have been? Even now her father remained no more than an image in her mind: the stranger who had visited her and her mother over the years; the provider of everything, excepting his presence as the head of their home. She recalled the sound of her mother's weeping after those visits, the weeks of unhappiness they brought into the pattern of their lives. She had hated him them, this man who had refused to sacrifice even the smallest part of his own needs in order to keep his family intact. He had let them go, wife and daughter, accepting the pangs of separation rather than leave the fife only he had loved

Why her mother had ever married a man with whom she could have had so little in common, Greer was never able to work out. She had met him while on holi­day in Canada, lived with him for two years at Mackinlay during which time she herself had been born, then gone home to England, unable to stand it any longer. If there had been bitterness in her heart for the husband who had refused to go with her, she had never shown it. Greer's father had rarely been mentioned at all that she could remember between his visits. Her own ha­tred had tempered over the years to an indifference which had enabled her on her mother's death two yearn ago to toss back his offer of a home in Mackinlay without a moment's hesitation or even heartache. Since then she had made her own way—and successfully answering the letters he had written to her only because she couldn't just ignore them, but refusing to alto him any place in her heart.

And now he was dead, and he had left her everything he'd owned; made her partner in his place to the son the man with whom he had shared both business and friendship for more than thirty years. Ty Frazer was only ten years her senior, yet a total enigma so far as her knowledge of him went. The letter he had sent her had not helped toward understanding. Short and terse, he had simply suggested she come out to Mackinlay to discuss their partnership further.

It had taken Marcus to persuade her to come though, his business brain seizing on the opportunity to realise an ambition of his own. Capital was what he needed, and she was in the perfect position to get it for him. Greer wasn't sure she agreed with him that selling out her interest to Ty Frazer was such a good idea, but as the man she was going to marry, Marcus deserved all the support she was able to give him in his aim to be-come something better than most. And it wasn't as if she would be losing out. Whatever she loaned to Mar­cus in this venture he proposed to undertake, she would have returned four-fold when it got of the ground. It couldn't fail, of course. Nothing Marcus be­lieved in failed. All he needed was enough money to swing it in the first place, and then they'd neither of them look back.

The town itself seemed smaller from within than it had looked from above, consisting mostly of one long curving main street with ethers running off at intervals. There was a timber-clad church and quite a selection of Stores. In her mind's eye, Greer had built a township of log cabins, but the houses she saw on the run through were faced in stone or brick in the dormer design, with plenty of trees left scattered around to break the mo­notony.

Most rural Canadian houses were built on the triple cavity principle, Gordon Terry informed her when she expressed a casual comment—one of stone, one of tim­ber and another of either brick or stone again with a layer of air between each to keep out the cold of winter. There was no central heating up here, winter warmth being gained from open fires and iron stoves stoked to a red-hot glow and never being allowed to go out. It sounded cosy if somewhat primitive. Greer wondered abut the fire hazard implicit in such a system, and came to the conclusion that it was probably an accepted part of their lives.

There were plenty of people about on the streets, mostly women and children at this hour of the day. Curious glances were directed toward the car and its occupants, strangers apparently enough of a rarity to cause comment. Gordon lifted a hand in greeting a time or two, but didn't slow down until they were com­ing towards the end of the town.

"There's the hotel," he said, "Want to drop your things off now before going on around to the mill?"

Greer shook her head. "I'll be staying in my father's house, I expect."

"Oh?" He sounded surprised. He gave her a quick glance. "Ty know you're coming today?"

"Actually no," she admitted.

"Wanted to surprise him, eh?"

"Something like that." Greer herself could not have explained why she hadn't cabled on ahead as she had planned—unless she didn't want this Frazer man ready and waiting for her in any sense. Putting her proposi­tion to him wouldn't be easy, despite Marcus's conviction that he would jump at the opportunity. It isn't as if you'll be asking for payment in a single lump sum, he'd said. Once he's agreed in principle you can have a prop­er contract of sale drawn up by a lawyer, arranging to have the balance paid in stages. Believe me, with what that company is worth, he'll be getting your shares for a song, and he'll know it. He won't raise any difficulties. Greer wished she felt as sure now as she had done then. Marcus had a way of infusing confidence in her.

It was farther around the lake than she had antici­pated. Eight miles had gone on the mileage meter before they came in sight of habitation again. The house was set in the wide clearing fronting on to the lake some distance from the main roadway, and built to a simple uncluttered design of a greyish stone with faint pink and blue over-tones. It had a long, wide porch facing the magnificent view across the water, and a big square chimney running right down to ground level. Blue curtains hung in the window, clean but untidy, as if jerked back by a too impa­tient hand. A few shrubs straggling along the side consti­tuted the only concession towards a garden of any kind. The rest was simply grass, with a trodden pathway run­ning down to the wooden jetty where an outboard motor-boat was moored. One or two outbuildings completed the estate.

"Ty's probably along at the mill," Gordon Terry an­nounced, bringing the car to a halt. "The door will be open if you want to wait. Nobody locks up around here. Wouldn't be much point."

"How about my father's place?" Greer wanted to know. "Is it far from this one?"

"This is the Patton place," he said. "Frank and Ty shared it these last few years since his father died. Sup., pose it was easier than keeping two houses going for two men on their own. The old Frazer place is about half a mile farther on."

"I see." She was nonplussed for a moment, then rallied to meet the lively speculation in her compan­ion's glance. "In that case, I'll wait here for him, then he can take me back to town to the hotel for the night."

"Sure." Gordon got out of the car and took her case from the back, trod the two wooden steps to the porch and thrust open the door to dump it down inside. "It's all yours."

The room was large and airy, its walls lined with warm pine, the fireplace huge and welcoming in the stone hearth despite its lack of dancing flame. The fur­nishings were plain and uncompromisingly masculine, chairs and sofa covered in a dark blue linen, the floor bare apart from a couple of red and blue rugs. A sturdy bookcase ran the length of one wall, filled to overflow­ing and matching the golden oak dining table and chairs. Greer took it all in at a glance, then turned back, to smile at the man who had brought her here.

"I do feel I've put you to an awful lot of trouble Can't I at least pay you for the petrol you've used?"

"No way. Enjoyed the run. Made quite a change." He seemed reluctant to depart, standing there with hands thrust into the pockets of his denims. "Don't suppose we'll be seeing much of you down in Baxter."

"I don't imagine I'll be here very long at all," she returned lightly. "Anyway, thanks again for bringing me out. I don't know what I'd have done otherwise. I'd no idea Mackinlay was so far from the Halt." She put out a hand. "Hope you make it back before dark." "Should do." From his expression, shaking hands with a woman was something of a novelty. "Best of luck."

Greer took another look around the spacious living room as she listened to the departing engine. The only other door apart from this outer one was to the right from where she stood.

She went across to it, finding herself in a short corri­dor with more doors leading off it. One gave into a bright though rather small kitchen, another a white-tiled bathroom; the remaining ones were bedrooms, two of them, one obviously in use judging from the pile of masculine garments heaped on the bed as if ready for the wash.

Greer closed the door again hurriedly and opened the last one. This room must have been her father's; she had a right to be looking in here. It wasn't so very different from its neighbour, except that the bed wasn't made up. Austerity seemed to have been the keyword for both men.

She couldn't have said what it was that made her go over and pull out the drawer in the little cabinet at the side of the single bed. The photograph stared up at her from its frame, her own face caught in a moment of happiness, mouth smiling, eyes sparkling. She recog­nised the snapshot immediately as one she had had taken on holiday the year her mother had died. Her father must have taken it from the album while he'd been over in England for the funeral—taken it without asking, because he had known she would refuse to let him have it had he done so. Staring at it she felt tears prickle suddenly at the back of her eyes in response the loneliness she sensed in this bare, impersonal room. This was all he'd had. Could she begrudge h so little? Regardless of fault, he had been her father, a father who had felt deeply enough to steal a photograph to keep by his bedside. It didn't bear thinking about.

She was sitting huddled in one of the big chairs in the living room when she heard the first vehicles passing along the road in the direction of Mackinlay. Those would be the mill workers going home, she conjectured. Which meant that Ty Frazer wouldn't be long, behind them. She stirred stiffly, feeling the coolness o approaching night for the first time and wondering if she dared put a match to the fire already laid in the grate. There had been a light switch over by the door, she recalled. She went to try it, but nothing happened. This far from town the lighting would probably be worked by a portable generator, no doubt started up when the man of the house came home from his work. It made a fire doubly desirable, if she were not to sit in the dark until he chose to do so.

Lighting it was less trouble than she had anticipated, the cleverly piled sticks directing the flames under and around the logs until all were ignited. Holding out her hands to the glow, Greer tried to imagine what it must be like up here in the winter with the snow piled up against the porch and the outside temperature below freezing point for weeks at a time. Oddly, the only im­pression she could conjure up was one of cosiness. In a house like this, with enough supplies, one could re-main cocooned in warmth regardless of the elements. And two?

She supposed that had to depend on the people involved. Her mother had not been able to bear the rigou­rs of a Canadian winter—perhaps because she had loved her father enough to make it bearable.

Greer wondered if she herself would be any stronger such circumstances, say if Marcus wanted her to live somewhere totally unsuited to her temperament. She had to smile at that. Marcus was a man of the city, a lover of modern convenience and luxury, as evidenced his choice of flat. There was no way in which she might be called upon to face the kind of choice her other had had to make because she and Marcus were of a kind. That was the only way love could really work.

It took the sound of an approaching car to jerk her out of introspection and back into the present. Heart heating suddenly faster, she sat there listening while the engine was cut. There came the slam of a door and then a long pause before a different muted sound sprang into being, bringing the light she had left witched on flickering to life overhead. She was still sitting motionless in the chair when the outer door opened to admit the man she had come more than two and a half thousand miles to see.

Ty Frazer was a big man without being bulky, shoulders broad beneath the open mackinaw, tapering down to a narrow waist and hips. There was strength in the angular features, hardening as he looked at her. Greer was the first to speak.

"Hope you don't mind me lighting the fire. It was getting chilly."

"It usually does towards nightfall this time of year." His voice was brusque. "Why didn't you let me know you were coming? I could have been off up at one of the camps."

"In which case I'd have had to wait in Mackinlay until you got back," she returned with what equability she could muster. She came to her feet as he closed the door again, marshalling her reserves. Quite what she had expected she wasn't at all sure, but he wasn't it. This was a type of man she had not met with before, and one who was not going to be easy to handle. A lone wolf, yet with a world of experience in the glance he ran over her. "You did ask me to come."

His mouth twisted. "So I did."

"But you didn't expect me to take you upon it," she hazarded.

"No, I didn't." He came farther into the room, shrugging off the plaid jacket and flinging it careless over a chair back. Underneath he wore a blue denim shirt, the sleeves rolled above muscular forearms. His eyes were watchful—green eyes, she noted detached to go with the faint tint of red in the dark brown hair he stood beneath the light. "I expected no more fro you than your father got in all these years."

Her head came up, her own eyes sparkling. "The remedy was always in his hands."

"Was it? I don't think so." He walked over to t fireplace and kicked a fallen log back into place with toe of his boot, threw on another and stood back again face unrelaxed. "This was where he belonged, no some deadly British backwater playing the gentleman.

"London can hardly be called a backwater," she responded hardily. "And my mother had rights too. She couldn't stand this life."

"She knew what he was and how he lived before she married him. A wife's place is with her husband." "There's such a thing as a compromise!" "Providing the other party is making all the concessions, you mean?" His voice had a note of derision. 'What kind of compromise did you ever make in your fie?"

"You'd be surprised." Greer registered the bite in her voice and made an effort toward controlling it. This as no way to start off a partnership, brief though she intended the latter to be. She turned away to look into the leaping flames, added on a subdued note, "Do we have to talk about things that can't be altered? It's too late now for regrets."

"It isn't too late for some understanding." He was there beside her, taking her by the shoulder and turn­ing her back toward him, studying the pure oval face, lingering a lengthy moment on the fullness of her mouth. His fingers were hard and unyielding against her skin, tempered steel capable of breaking. "Frank thought the world of you, you unfeeling little wretch! His precious daughter! God, the times I've seen him come back from visiting you and your mother looking as if he'd been trampled all over, and wanted to have the two of you right here for a few minutes!" His tone was quiet but deadly. "Well, now I've got you, and you're going to listen. Before we talk about anything else you're going to hear what I've got to say."

The tremor that ran through her went deeper than mere resentment, awareness springing alive under his touch. No rules to govern behaviour existed here; this man would say or do as he thought fit regardless. It was the sheer maleness of him that bothered her most. She felt unprepared, ill-equipped to meet it.

"Better get it over with, then," she said with a jut of her chin that was as much in defence as defiance. "I don't appear to have much choice other than to listen."

The fingers tautened for a moment, his mouth dan­gerous. "Don't push me!"

"I'm not trying to. What would you prefer—fear?"

She was quivering but in control of herself. "What-ever you've got to say you obviously need to get it off your chest. Perhaps when you've done it we might find some rather more civilised level to talk on."

Amber sparks had appeared in the dark green of his eyes. "Confident young madam, aren't you? Maybe I should start by fetching you down off that soapbox!"

The quick retort died on her lips as she remembered once again why she was here. It went against the grain to back down, but a slanging match was no solution either.

"I don't think this is getting us anywhere," she said. "You've made your opinion of me pretty clear. Can't we just leave it at that?"

It was a moment before he answered, eyes narrowed and hard. Then he shrugged suddenly and let her go. "Could be you're right. Frank wouldn't have thanked me for sticking my nose in too far." He indicated the chair she had recently vacated. "Sit down while I see what I can rustle up by way of food. I'm a bit short on supplies, so it'll have to be pot luck."

"Don't go to any trouble for my sake," she re­sponded quickly. "I daresay I'll be able to get a meal back at the hotel in Mackinlay."

His glance went to the suitcase still standing where Gordon Terry had dumped it by the outer door. "You've already booked in?"

"No." She paused. "I didn't realise what the situa­tion was going to be here. You'll have to run me back in after you've eaten."

"So it seems." There was an odd disturbing quality in the sudden glint. "I don't suppose a bowl of soup would go amiss while you wait "

Greer sank back into the chair as he disappeared from view, registering the unsteadiness of her heart-beats. It was going to be worse, far worse, than she had ever anticipated. If only Marcus were here with her right now! If he'd realised what she was going to be up against he would never have allowed her to come alone.

And yet was she perhaps facing difficulties before they'd arisen? Ty had made his feelings toward her plain enough, why then should he raise any objections to getting rid of her altogether? Providing he had the facilities for doing so, she tagged on reflectively. Noth­ing here suggested reserves of cash at his disposal; the house was comfortable but by no stretch of imagination the kind of home one might expect of a man of means. But what about this situation was predictable? The house had been shared by two men living alone for several years. Anyway, Marcus didn't make mistakes like that.

She had drawn the curtains against the night when Ty came back into the room. He was carrying a tray bearing two bowls of steaming hot soup, and a crusty French loaf. There was also a large lump of creamy white cheese on a plate, and a jar of pickles. He set the tray down on the table and pulled out a couple of chairs opposite one another. "Come and get it."

Greer hadn't eaten since noon, and the smell was certainly appetising. She went across and sat down, tak­ing up a spoon with a sense of occasion. Not so very long ago her father would have sat like this across from his partner sharing the evening meal. She wondered what the two men would have talked about. Their work, probably. What else could they have had in com­mon? Little as she had known her father, he had been of a different type altogether from Ty Frazer, to say nothing of the age gap.

The soup was not only hot but excellent, thick with meat and vegetables and quite obviously home-made. More than likely someone from the town came in daily to keep the place tidy and prepare a few easily re-heated dishes. She caught Ty's eye, said impulsively, "This is delicious."

"Good." He didn't bother to enlarge on that.

They finished the soup in silence. Greer shook her head when he offered her the cheese, and watched him hack off a sizeable piece for himself, along with a couple of slices of bread.

"There's a pot of coffee on the stove back there," he said. "Maybe you'd like to go and fetch it. You'll find some mugs in the cupboard at the side."

Greer went willingly enough. The stove, she noted in the kitchen, was run on Calor gas, as also appeared to be the fridge in the corner. She found a cloth to lift the old-fashioned coffee pot with, picked up the two blue mugs she had got out, and went back to find Ty just pushing back his chair.

"I couldn't find any milk," she said.

"There isn't any." He sounded unconcerned. "Do as the Romans do and drink it black."

There didn't seem to be any alternative. Greer for-bore from any cutting remarks and took a seat closer to the fire again, although any chill had long since gone from the room. Cupping the mug in her hands, she stared into the leaping flames and wondered how to broach the subject uppermost in her mind. Ty saved her the trouble.

"All right," he said. "So let's talk—partner. What exactly are you here for? And don't bother making out it's because I asked you to come. It won't wash. I'd say there was only one thing could have brought you out this quick, and that's money. Right?"

The contempt stung all the more for its closeness to the truth. Ty Frazer didn't beat about any bush; he went straight to the point. Greer had to force herself to meet his eyes. "I want you to buy me out."

His laugh was short and sharp. "Just like that?"

"No, of course not just like that " She kept her tone level. "A down payment of fifty thousand dollars, the rest by arrangement over a mutually agreeable period."

"What makes you so sure I could raise fifty thousand in cash?" He still didn't appear to be taking the matter seriously.

"Research into past profit margins, for one thing." Dark brows lifted sardonically. "Your research cover overheads in this line too?"

"It wasn't mine. That's an expert opinion." "Whose?"

"My fiancé's." The pause was brief. "He also happens to be my employer."

"Handy." His regard wasn't pleasant. "He put you up to this?"

Greer returned his look squarely. "Does it matter? All I want is an answer."

"And you can have it in a word. No."

"Does that mean you can't, or you won't?"

He drew in a harsh breath. "It means exactly what it says. It's been the Frazer/Patton Company from the start, and you're not going to change that now."

"I wouldn't want to change it. You could keep the name." She was fighting for the nerve to see this thing through, aware of the anger simmering in him. "You despise me as a person, why would you want me as a partner? My way we need never meet again."

"Your way we'd be going against everything your father worked for all his life. Not that I'd expect you to consider him in any way. You didn't do it when he was alive." The strong mouth was curled and contemptu­ous. "It's time somebody took you in hand and taught you a few decent values!"

"And you're just the man to do it, I suppose." She was angry herself now, resenting his attitude. "Well go ahead and try, if you can spare the time. I'll listen."

Some new expression came suddenly into his face, bringing a momentary trepidation. "Like hell you would! I could talk myself hoarse without making the least impression on that calculating little mind of yours. No, I've a better idea. You know next to nothing about the lumber business, but you can learn. The hard way—from the bottom up. Hope you've come prepared for a long stay."

Greer stared at him, pulses quickening. "Don't be ridiculous. You can't keep me here against my will!"

"Can't I though? Try me." At that moment he looked capable of anything, features set and hard. "You owe your father that much."

"I owe him nothing. I didn't ask to be made his heir."

"But you're ready enough to take advantage of it. Well, okay, maybe we'll talk about buying and selling again some time, but by then you're going to be in a position to know exactly what you're selling." He leaned an elbow against the wide stone overmantel as he skimmed a comprehensive glance over her shapely figure, assessing the quality of the green woollen skirt and tan silk blouse. "You'll need pants and a shirt, and a warm jacket. If you haven't brought them with you we'll get them down in town in the morning."

Greer put down her mug with care, and came slowly to her feet, trying to ignore the way he towered over her in height. "I don't mind taking a look round the mill while I'm here," she said, "but I'm certainly not going to spend any length of time in this godforsaken. place! Are you going to run me back to Mackinlay, or do I take your car and drive myself? We'll talk again in the morning when we're both more... rested."

"You take a lot of convincing," he said without moving. "You're not going anywhere, tonight or any other night, until I say so. There are two bedrooms. You can have Frank's."

"Stay here with you?" Her voice crackled with sarcasm. "You must be joking. I'd as soon spend the night in the forest!"

"Along with the wild-life?"

"Would there be much difference?"

The glint increased to a warning gleam. "Don't push your luck too far. You're here, you're staying, and that's all there is to it." He came away from the mantel. "Come on, I'll show you your room. The bed will have to be aired before you sleep in it. We'll bring the mat-tress through here and put it close to the fire."

Greer remained where she was, limbs refusing to move. She felt totally at a loss. "If you're doing this just to show me what a big man you are, you don't need to bother," she said at last. "I'm prepared to believe it."

His shrug was easy. "So I'll bring it through myself. You might hot that coffee up again while I'm doing it."

Her jacket was still over the chair back. Greer waited until he had gone through into the other part of the house before reaching for it and her purse and making softly for the outer door. She could hear him through in the bedroom as she opened it as noiselessly as she could. Then she was outside and racing across the grass to the Range Rover parked with its nose pointing to-ward the lake. She had never driven one before, but she wasn't going to let that stop her. If Ty Frazer thought he had her helpless he had another think com­ing. Not for anything was she going to spend the night here with him!

Why she should have taken it for granted that he would have left the keys in the ignition she couldn't have said. Scrambling into the driving seat, she found herself staring blankly at the empty lock with no clear idea of where she went from here. When the hand came through the wound-down window dangling the key ring mockingly from a finger end, she didn't even turn her head.

"These what you're looking for?" Ty asked. "You've been watching too many second-rate films, honey!" He withdrew the hand and opened the door. "Come on out of it."

She did so, recognising the futility of refusal, walked ahead of him with head held high back into the house. He closed the door gently when he came in, leaning his weight against it for a moment to regard her with intol­erance.

"That was a stupid trick to try. Even if you'd been able to start the car you could have killed yourself before you'd gone a mile!"

"And you'd have been to blame," she retorted. "You've no right to keep me here."

"It's a matter of opinion." He nodded to the mat-tress he had dropped on the floor. "The sooner we get that aired, the sooner we can turn in for the night. We've got an early start in the morning."

Greer watched him lift it across to the fire with a feeling of helplessness. When he turned she tried one last appeal. "Look, you're not going to change any-thing by acting this way. I can no more help the way I feel about my father than you can about me. Supposing you do show me what life out here in the backwoods is like. You surely don't imagine I'm going to suddenly develop a yen for it myself, do you?"

He shook his head. "Hardly the point. I just think you need to learn about relative values. This life meant more to Frank than the money he could make out of it. I aim to make sure you understand something of what made him tick by the time you do go home. Now, how about that coffee?"

She held his gaze for a moment more, then shrugged and moved over to the table for the coffee pot, only to be brought up shortly by his next words.

"And before you go out back you'd better give me your shoes."

"My shoes?" she repeated blankly. "What on earth...."

"Just so as you're not tempted to make another run for it. You'd find it pretty hard going barefoot."

"I'm sure of it." She attempted a derisive note. "I hardly think you need have any worries on that score Eight miles in the dark isn't my idea of an evening exercise at the best of times."

"Take them off." He was unmoved. "Unless you' rather I did it for you."

Fuming, Greer kicked the smart Cuban heels fro her feet, sending them spinning across the floor tow him, then was instantly ashamed of the childish gesture. "All right," she said. "You don't need to say Let's be adult about this. I'll pick them up."

"No need." Ty kicked them into a corner, mo briefly widening at the look on her face. "I'll get some boots in the morning—safer all round."

Come the morning there wouldn't be any point Greer reflected dryly. Did he really believe he take her into town and out again without a murmur her part? It might be a bit of a dead and alive place, but there had to be some source of law and order. In the meantime, she could only accept the situation.

They drank the reheated coffee in a silence broken only by the ticking of the big round railway clock on the wall. Once or twice, Greer stole a glance at the firm profile of the man in the chair on the other side of the fire, but he seemed preoccupied with his thoughts. His shirt was open at the neck, revealing the brown column of his throat and a triangle of dark hair. One thumb was hooked casually into the broad leather belt, legs stretched and crossed at the ankles in an attitude of complete relaxation. She wished she could relax in the same way, but knew it unlikely. Ty Frazer disturbed her in more ways than she cared to acknowledge. She had never met anyone quite so aggressively masculine in her life before.

When he did turn his head to look at her he caught her unawares. The curve of his lips was satirical. "Seen enough?"

Her recovery was swift. "I was wondering why a man your age should have chosen to cut himself off from normal living this way."

"Depends on your definition of normal. I've got everything I need—including female company when I want it. That's what's really bugging you, isn't it? No woman can stand seeing a man without one."

Whoever yours is, I feel sorry for her," she came back on a biting note. "She must be something of masochist to stand you!"

'Sure." He sounded indifferent. "If we're going to talk about relationships let's go into this one of yours. What kind of man is it who'd send a woman this distance on her own?"

"He has commitments." Greer heard the faint defensive note in her voice and tried to cancel it out. "Marcus happens to believe women well capable looking after their own interests. This was my pigeon said I'd deal with it."

"Marcus, eh? I might have known. A city slicker without enough guts to do his own foraging!"

"That's not fair," she burst out with heat. "You don't know him. Who are you to judge anyway?"

"Are you in love with the guy?" he demanded, ignoring the outburst.

"I'm going to marry him."

"That's not what I asked."

She quietened suddenly, averted her eyes. "Of course I'm in love with him—if it has anything at all to do wt you."

The pause was lengthy; she could feel him studying her but refused to look back at him.

"You're either a liar or plain dumb," he said bluntly "At a guess I'd say you'd never been deeply stirred your life by any man. You're marrying this one because he happens to fit the pattern your mother laid down you. Ten to one you don't even get much out of when he makes love to you."

Greer was sitting on the edge of her seat, two spots of colour burning high on her cheekbones. "I don intend discussing that subject with you. Now or at a other time. You wouldn't even begin to understand m kind of needs."

"Meaning they're different from any other woman's?" He shook his head, mouth mocking. "I doubt it. Might be interesting to find out though."

She stiffened, eyes warily on his. "If that means what I think it means you'd better not try anything!"

His expression didn't change. "Nervous?" he asked. "What of, I wonder? If you're so sure of what you need in a man you've nothing to worry about." He stood up then, tall and lean and unpredictable. "Time we turned in. Tomorrow's going to be a busy day for both of us."

He had done that deliberately, she realised. One more way of putting her in her place. Well, forewarned was forearmed. Next time he wouldn't find her so easy to bait.

The spare room mattress was thoroughly aired by now. Ty Frazer carried it through for her and resettled it on the bed, then got out bedding from a cupboard in the bathroom. While she was making it up herself, he fetched her suitcase through from the living room, set­ting it down inside the doorway without coming any farther.

"Everything you need?" he queried.

"Yes." Belatedly she tagged on, "Thanks," and re­gretted it as his head inclined.

"Your manners are improving, anyway."

Greer waited until he had finished with the bath-room and closed his own door behind him before stir-ring to take her night things out of the case. She undressed and washed quickly, cleaned her teeth and made it back across to the bedroom again with a sense of relief. There was a key in the door. It gave her some feeling of security to turn it in the lock and hear the tongue slide into place with a firm click.

She was in bed with the light already out when she heard Ty go across and out through the kitchen. A mo­ment later the whine of the generator died altogether. He came back quietly, stood a moment outside her door, then tried the handle.

"Get this unlocked," he called brusquely.

Greer lay still, her breathing ragged in the darkness. There was a pause, an exclamation of disgust and a sudden heart-stopping thud as he put his shoulder to it. Wood splintered as the lock gave under the unequal strain. She came to a sitting position, clutching the bed-clothes about her and resisting the impulse to cower from the muscular figure clad only in a pair of trousers looming in the open doorway.

"Just for the record," he said. "If I wanted a woman that badly I wouldn't let a door put me off. We don't turn keys for good reason in these parts. Call it a built-in safe­ty measure. If you'd ever experienced a forest fire you wouldn't want to be locked in anywhere, I can tell you. Going to quit acting like that second-rate heroine now?" He nodded when she didn't answer. "Good, then we can both get some sleep. See you in the morning bright and early."

CHAPTER TWO

The house was quiet when Greer awoke, the bird song loud outside her window. She shot up to find her suit-case had vanished along with the clothes she had worn yesterday. In their place was a man's dressing gown in a fine wool overcheck of blue on grey. Ty was taking no chances on her making a break for it.

The thought of his having been in the room while she slept brought an odd sensation. Would he have simply lifted both case and clothing and departed or would he have come over to the bed to study her sleep­ing form and gloat over her helplessness against him? If the latter—well, she wouldn't be helpless for long. Regardless of what he had said last night, he couldn't force her into going along with his plans for her educa­tion. All she had to do was complain to the first person she saw that he was keeping her here against her will and the law would be forced to take notice.

Yet if she did do that she would more than likely be putting paid to any hopes of his doing as she wanted, she realised suddenly. He had at least said that if she went along with him he would consider it. There had to be an effective compromise, if only she could think of it. For the present she could do little else but don the dressing gown and wait for inspiration to strike her.

It took her little more than a couple of minutes ascertain that Ty was not in the house. She went out barefoot to the porch to find the boat gone from its moorings. The lake stretched out before her, mirror surfaced and empty of life, the far banks forest cog in green. There was a wonderful, needle-sharp scent the air: fir and spruce, perhaps balsam too. The breeze coming off the water was cool without being in the least bit cold, exhilarating in a way city air never could be.

Breakfast was, of necessity, simple: cornflakes out of packet with a sprinkling of sugar, and coffee. There we some eggs in a rack in the fridge, and half a loaf of thee same crusty bread Ty had brought out the previous nigh„ in the narrow larder, but she left them alone. Apart from, a few assorted tins and packets, that seemed to be the limit of the food stock. Greer wondered if both men ha& tended to eat out most of the time. Perhaps in winter they'd even moved down to the town for convenience. For the first time she found herself wishing she could have known her father in this his own setting. Her own fault that she hadn't, of course. He had wanted her to come. Regrets always came too late to do any good.

She was sitting over a second cup of coffee when she heard the car coming along the road from Mackinlay. A door slammed and footsteps came running lightly up on to the porch. The girl who burst in through the door was in her late teens, dark hair tied back carelessly from an arrestingly pretty face, lithe figure clad in blue jeans and check shirt, the former tucked into calf-length boots.

"It's all around town that the Patton woman's ar­rived!" she was saying even as she entered the house, on she registered the sex of the person sitting at the table and came to an abrupt stop, blue eyes widening, jp sudden shocked dismay. "Oh!"

"I'm the Patton woman," Greer said dryly. "Ty isn't here right now, I'm afraid, though I'm sure he'll be back soon if you'd care to wait."

The newcomer's gaze went from her face once round the room and back again, as if searching for some plausi­ble alternative to the obvious. "Have... you been here all night?"

Greer looked down at herself with a faint smile. "Afraid so. There wasn't much choice. Are you a friend of Ty's?"

"I'm Diane Ford. We run a farm down the valley a piece." The reply was automatic, non-comprehension in her expression. "I—I don't understand. You only met him yesterday!"

"I know. Forceful character, isn't he?" The temp­tation to drop him right in it was strong, but so was Greer's sudden rush of sympathy for the girl's stricken look as the possibilities loomed. She improvised quickly. "Something went wrong with the car and he couldn't take me in to Mackinlay. Lucky my father's room was available."

"Yes, I suppose it was." The other's relief was transparent, making Greer wonder how much cause she'd had in the past to suspect the worst of the man she had come to visit. If this Diane Ford was the fe­male company he had spoken of last night then he deserved shooting. She was far too young for him in every way.

"Did he go into town with the boat?" Diane asked now, coming farther into the room. "I noticed it was gone."

"I don't know," Greer admitted. "The house was empty when I woke up." She forbore from mentioning her lack of alternative clothing, hoping the other wouldn't ask the obvious question. "Would you like some coffee?"

"No, thanks. I'll just wait here." Diane dropped into the nearest chair, slinging a leg over the end of an arm in a gesture which smacked both of careless familiarity with her surroundings and a youthful bravado. "Aren't you going to get dressed before Ty does get back?" she asked after a moment.

Here came lie number two, Greer reflected wryly. He was going to have a lot to answer for! "I've broken the key in the lock of my case," she said. "I'm going to have to wait for Ty to force it for me." She sensed the next words and took steps to forestall them. "Unfortu­nately, I had a bit of an accident with the suit I was wearing last night. Spilled some soup on it."

"So that's why you're wearing his dressing gown."

"Yes. Lucky he had one." The explanation sounded limp and highly improbable, but it was the best she could do at short notice. She tagged on, "I hope he won't be long myself. I'd like to get booked into the hotel as soon as possible."

Curiosity was patent in the expressive blue eyes. "Are you planning to stay long? I mean, I wouldn't have thought you'd want to, considering what you must be used to. The hotel is okay, I suppose, but noth­ing like those down in Halifax."

Which was where Diane Ford would obviously rather have her at this moment, Greer thought on a note of humour, and wondered if the other girl's aid could be enlisted in any way. Diane wanted her away from here; she was in full agreement. Between the two of them wouldn't it perhaps be possible to persuade Ty that her staying on was a waste of time for all concerned?

"If I could get Ty Frazer to agree to buying out my shares in the company I'd be off home right away," she said, and saw the quick flare of interest.

"I didn't know you were coming here to sell. I—we all thought you'd only be keen on..." Her voice petered out uncomfortably as if she had only just re­alised what she was saying.

"Only be keen on making sure I was getting my full dues?" Greer suggested without malice. "I'm quite sure I would be if I were content to sit back and take them, only I'd rather make a complete break under the circumstances. It would have been different if I'd been on closer terms with my father, of course. This was his home."

"But you don't feel able to make it yours" Eager­ness infiltrated Diane's tone. "I think you're right. You wouldn't be happy. Nobody who's lived in a city like London could settle down to our kind of life."

"You've been to London?"

"Oh, no, I've never been farther than Halifax. But I've read about it in travel books. It must be very excit­ing."

Greer smiled a little. "Depends whether you're a visitor or a resident, same as anywhere else. It can be a very lonely place."

Diane's gaze had settled on the ring sparkling on Greer's finger. "Oh, you're engaged! Is your fiancé English too?"

"Very." Greer tried to reckon the time differential between here and London, and came to the conclusion that Marcus would probably be having lunch at the mo­ment. Strangely, she felt no particular desire to be with him amidst the noise and bustle of the business world. He would bolt down the meal as he usually did unless entertaining clients, then go rushing off to some ap­pointment and wonder why he suffered from indiges­tion later on in the afternoon. Her own role had been less exacting, of course, though still hectic compared with this kind of peace and quiet. Had been? She caught herself up there. It was only mere days ago since she had left it. How then could it seem so long in the past? The answer could only be that time here had a totally different feeling: peace, dropping slow.

Diane was watching her oddly, recognising some in­ner conflict without understanding its root cause. It took the sound of a fast approaching outboard motor from the direction of the lake to break the momentary stillness.

"That will be Ty now," she said, jumping to her feet.

Greer stayed where she was as the younger girl went outside, her pulses undeniably faster. Viewed from here and now last night's events seemed almost ludi­crous. Good thing Diane hadn't seen the smashed lock. That would have really taken some explaining away, though no doubt she would have thought of some-thing. Given a little time she could become quite an accomplished liar.

Voices sounded on the porch. Ty came in with Diane right on his heels, expression faintly irritated. Derision took over when he saw Greer sitting there in the over-large dressing gown.

"Morning," he said. "Sleep well?"

"Extremely," she returned with sarcastic inflection, conscious of Diane's watchful gaze going from one to the other of them. "I was just telling your visitor how my suitcase lock got jammed. I'm sure you'll be able to fix it for me."

"Sure, if you need it." He put down the brown paper parcel he had brought in with him on the table. "There's the things I promised you. I took your boot size from your shoes. Hope they fit."

Greer held his eyes for a brief moment before reach­ing out to pull on the string holding the parcel together. Apart from the black leather boots it held a couple of pairs of dark blue denims similar to the ones Diane was wearing, and two cotton shirts in red and blue check. The last item was a mackinaw. Studying them she wondered just how much time he considered she needed to imbibe a few details about the lumber busi­ness. And why the fancy dress anyway? A sawmill couldn't be that rough a place. Her own clothes would have been adequate, with a pair of sensible shoes.

It was Diane who put the question, voice tinged with more than a little anxiety. "Ty, what's all this about? She doesn't want to stay long in Mackinlay."

"She mightn't want to, but she's going to." tie didn't bother to turn his head. "If you two have been getting that cosy she'll no doubt have told you why she's here."

"Yes, and I think it's a sensible idea."

"You do, do you?" This time he did look at her, irony in the twist of his lips. "You think I ought to fall in with it and pack her out of her soon as possible, is that it?"

"If you don't mind," Greer cut in caustically, "she can speak for herself!"

"Shut up." Ty still continued to eye the younger girl. "To save time and trouble, you can spread it around that my new partner will be staying on, for an indefinite period. We leave for the logging camps after we've spent some time at the mill. You can say she's eager to learn the ropes."

"You—you're going up there alone?" Diane's pretty face was flushed, her eyes dark with hurt. "What are people going to think?"

"What they damn well like." His voice was brusque. "This business is between the two of us, and it's going to stay that way. And talking about what folk might think, it's about time you stopped coming out here on your own. You're a big girl now, not the kid I used to buy ices for. My reputation won't suffer any; yours cer­tainly will. Understand what I'm saying?"

She gave him a stricken look, mouth tremulous, then turned and bolted out of the door, slamming it behind her. Greer waited until the car was moving off before venting her feelings.

"Ty Frazer," she said with emphasis, "you must be just about the biggest swine I ever came across! Was that necessary?"

"Not only necessary but long overdue." His tone was unrelenting. "Young Di's been harbouring a schoolgirl crush on me since the day I paddled her for laying a fire where she wasn't supposed to. Call it a father complex. Her own never showed much concern for what she got up to. Since she hit seventeen the whole thing's been getting a mite more than I care to handle. Time she 'ound herself a boy-friend closer to her own age."

"I still don't think you had to be quite so brutal about it," she came back after a moment. "There's plain speaking and plain speaking."

"The difference being what?"

"A little compassion. Calling a spade a spade, not a shovel!"

His regard was sardonic. "You could use a little of that advice yourself. Calling a man a swine doesn't ex­actly smack of tact and diplomacy."

"Oh, I don't know." Her tone was deliberately bland. It depends on the comparisons."

If she had been hoping to get a rise out of him she was disappointed. He seemed more amused than any-thing. "Lippy female, aren't you? Does this fiancé of yours stand for it?"

"I really wouldn't know," she said. "I've never found the need to label his behaviour."

"A regular gentleman, eh?"

"In a way you wouldn't understand." He was getting to her if not the other way around. She got to her feet, drawing the dressing gown farther around her and try­ing not to think about the way she must look. "I gather my things are locked in your room. Nothing against keys this morning?"

"Nothing against them any time when there's nobody behind them," he returned equably.' If you want to get dressed try putting these things on."

"Fine," she said with sarcasm. "Except that there are one or two items you seem to have forgotten. If it humours you I'll dress local style, certainly, but I'm still going to need my case."

"All right. Point taken. I'll fetch it through to you." There was a glint in his eyes she didn't much like but he seemed amicable enough otherwise. "And put spurt on. We've a lot to get through."

Not, thought Greer, if she could help it. Today she would go along with him, yes, but tomorrow was out Leaving for the logging camps indeed! He must be crazy, if he imagined for one moment that she really would go with him.

She was standing at the window in her father's room when he brought through her suitcase. She turned as he tossed it carelessly on the bed, said with sarcasm "Thanks."

"No trouble." He stood looking at her for a long moment, dwelling on the dark gold hair left loose this morning to curve about her face and neck. "Talking of comparisons," he said very softly, "it's maybe time you had a working basis."

Greer backed off as he carne towards her, though with the window right behind her she couldn't go far. "if you lay one finger on me..." she threatened.

"You'll what? Slap my face?" He pulled her toward him, smile derisive. "Go right ahead."

Held in the strong hard circle of his arms she had no chance. His mouth was ruthless, brooking no denial, softening only when she stopped struggling against it. He took his time over letting her go, standing back at last with the mocking smile ready and waiting.

"Not quite so untouchable as you try to make out. Next time you might think twice before opening your mouth. I'll be outside when you're ready."

Greer watched him go with mixed emotions, feeling the pressure of his lips still on hers. No kiss Marcus had given her had ever stirred her quite like that, she had to admit. It scared her a little to think that any man pos­sessed such power. And this one proposed taking her into the forest alone with him tomorrow. If she was still here to take. Between now and then she had to find some way out. Who could trust a man as unpredictable as Ty Frazer?

He was tinkering with the car when she got outside. He straightened as she crossed toward him, running a critical eye over her.

"Good fit. Boots okay?"

"Fine." She couldn't find it in herself to say any more.

Faintly his eyebrows lifted. "Subdued, aren't we? Surprising what a little chastisement can do."

Passing him to climb into the front seat as he held open the door, Greer said softly, "Was that what it was?"

"What else?" The irony was heavily underscored. "You don't think I kissed you because I wanted to, do you?"

"Frankly," she retorted, "9'd say you never did any-thing you didn't want to do. Only if you're toying with the idea of repeating the experiment, I warn you, don't. I'll be ready for you the next time."

"I'll count on it."

He came round the front to slide in beside her, started the engine and engaged first gear. A squirrel across the track where it entered the trees, bounding the nearest one to perch on a high branch and chatter down at the vehicle. The ground was anything smooth. Greer was thankful when they at last hit t road, which at least had a surface of sorts.

She could hear the mill before they came in sight it, the screeching whine which must be the saws interspersed with a regular thud like some heavy object be ing dropped from a height. The scene of activity which met her eyes on rounding the last curve in the road was a total contrast to the peace of the last couple of miles from the house. This was the far western tip of! the lake, fed by a couple of rivers coming in from different angles through curtains of trees. As far up both as the eye could see, the water was covered with logs sweeping majestically down into the broad basin of the lake, to be caught by men wielding long poles with hooks on the end and steered into reddish islands over which they ran and balanced without apparent difficulty.

On the banks, more men operated machines which picked logs out from the water as they came floating down and dropped them onto a conveyor belt system. The mill itself comprised two great barn-like structures set well back and flanked by smaller buildings. It was to one of these latter that Ty eventually led the way.

The man seated with his feet propped up on the desk in front of him was perhaps in his late forties, tough and weather beaten, but with a cheerful cast to his fea­tures as if he found life good. He was riffling through a wad of papers when they went in, and took his time about looking up, to bring the forelegs of his hazard-y tilted chair crashing back into the upright position as his gaze fell on Greer.

"Meet the new boss," Ty said dryly. "Bill Ryman. He's the foreman round here."

The other took Greer's outstretched hand gingerly, though half afraid it might break off in his own ham­-like grasp. He seemed at a loss for words. Greer took the initiative, aware of Ty's mocking regard.

"I'm only here for a short time, so don't let it throw you. How are you, Mr. Ryman?"

"Great. Just great." He still seemed somewhat at a loss. Then he grinned suddenly and scratched his head. "So you're Frank's kid! You don't look much like him."

"No, I'm supposed to take after my mother's side of the family."

"Good-looking woman." The remark was judicious.

"I remember her coming her. Must be close on twenty-five years ago. Not long been started myself then."

Twenty-five years. Half a lifetime. For the first time it occurred to her that Ty himself would have been around in those days. Nine when Frank Patton brought home his new bride, eleven when she left. Old enough, certainly, to remember a great deal. She wondered what his observations had been, not doubting for a mo­ment that he would have made some even at that age. Men like Ty Frazer didn't just grow, they were born that way. She'd probably have disliked him just as intensely as a boy.

"Miss Patton wants to see the full works, Bill," the subject of her thoughts cut in now. "You might take her through the sheds. I've a couple of things to s to." The look he turned on her was faintly malicious, "You'll be safe enough with Bill. See you back here."

Left alone with the foreman, Greer gave him awry little grimace. "Seems like you're stuck with me. Want to take it as read?"

He looked surprised. "It's no bother. Guess you're entitled. Better stick close, though. Got to know where you're going in there."

Greer saw what he meant a few minutes later as she watched the huge discs of metal ripping into logs some-times as much as five feet thick. The air was full of sound and hazed with flying sawdust—not harmful, Bill ex­plained when she commented on the lack of masks among the men working in it. Sawdust was organic. If they wore any protective equipment at all it should be goggles to keep it out of the eyes, though few of them bothered. Scared of missing something, he added dryly as the whistles floated after the two of them.

Talking inside was difficult if not impossible. Greer was glad to be out of it in the sparkling fresh air again. At the rear of the sheds lay the railway depot, with stacks of raw cut timber wailing to be shipped out. Rail-way cars were being loaded now, while beyond an en­gine was already getting up steam.

"Wood burner," Bill told her, forestalling the ques­tion. "One of the old specials. Nothing to beat 'em, especially considering we've got the fuel on tap, so to speak. We've got a couple running a shuttle between here and the main line at Baxter. We leave the cars loaded in the freight yard down there and they're picked up for shipment down in Halifax."

"Quite an organisation," Greer murmured, and he nodded with evident pride.

"Certainly is. Mind you, this is only part of it. To get the full picture you've got to follow it through from up there," nodding toward the surrounding forests.

"Is it far to the lumber camps?" she asked.

"Far enough. Depends which one. Talso's farthest out at fifty. Head of the wedge."

That would be about thirty miles, she surmised.

More than far enough—in fact, too far by half. Ty could whistle for his proposed trip up there, at least here she was concerned.

He was sitting on the edge of the desk in the office when they got back, reading a typed report which seemed to be affording him some concern judging from the way he was pulling at his lower lip with his teeth.

"Had campers in the east section, I see," he commented to Bill Ryman. "Hope to God they're on the ball with fire regulations."

"Why don't you ban them if there's that much danger?" Greer queried without thinking about it, and saw his mouth pull into the familiar derisive line. "What would you suggest, fencing the whole area round? We have patrols, and observation towers in each section. That's about as much as we can do. The rest is hope. It's been a dry month, this last, heatwave conditions in parts, but we're coming into the cooler weather now. Should get some real rain soon."

To damp down tinder-dry timber. Greer knew what he was saying. The danger wasn't over yet, but if they had come through this far without serious incident then there was a good chance they'd finish the season intact. They? She had to smile a little. Strange how quickly one could gain a proprietorial attitude. A couple of weeks ago the thought of a forest fire would have meant little to her.

Ty was watching her with an enigmatic expression. "Feel like some coffee?" he asked suddenly. "There's always some going across in the canteen."

"I can get some brought over here," Bill Ryman offered, but the other man shook his head.

"We may as well go across." He got to his feet, toss­ing the typed sheet back on the desk. "Come on, partner, if you think your sensibilities can stand being lusted after. We breed healthy appetites up hem."

"I can imagine!" She would have said more, but with Bill listening in it seemed prudent to keep quiet. So far he must have taken it for granted that she was staying in Mackinlay. Not for anything did she want it spreading around that she had spent last night alone in the same house as Ty Frazer.

Except that it was likely to be spread around anyway, she realised as they left the office. Young Diane Ford's pride had taken a severe jolt this morning. What better way of salving it than by telling what she had found—no doubt with embellishments. It made it all the more essential that she spend tonight in town. Ty might not care about his name, but she certainly cared about hers—if only for her father's sake.

The canteen turned out to be a long timber and brick hut laid out with wipe-clean tables and metal chairs in orderly rows. Hot meals were already being served from behind a counter at one end to a few early consumers standing in line. Greer steeled herself to Bather the frank stares and predictable comment without apparent discomfiture, aware of Ty's grin as he guided her to a seat.

"I'll fetch the coffee," he said. "Not hungry yet?"

She shook her head, watched him cross toward the line of men with long, easy strides. She couldn't hear what was said when he reached them, but whatever it was it didn't appear to subdue them any.

"I'd have thought you'd command a little more re­spect from your workforce," she commented with some irony on his return with two thick mugs.

"Like having them stand at attention when I walk in?" He took his seat, unmoved by the criticism. "They work for me, that's all."

"They work for us."

"But not for long, if you have your way." He studied her for a moment. "Not changing your mind by any chance?"

"No." The denial came without hesitation, yet some-thing inside contracted as she said it.

"Income not good enough for you?"

"Good enough but not immediate enough." She met his eyes and looked down at her coffee again. "I can hardly ask you to advance me fifty thousand on the strength of future income, so the only reasonable alter-native is to sell."

There was a pause before he said quietly, "You still haven't told me why you need that amount of cash. Not in trouble, are you?"

Greer forced a smile. "It would have to be pretty big trouble to merit that amount."

"Then what?"

She could have refused to answer, but putting his back up was not what she wanted. "To buy into a syndi­cate," she said with reluctance at length.

She was not to get off that easily. With interest in what field?"

"Oil. And don't ask me where because Marcus is barred from discussing that with anyone outside the syndicate itself."

Dark brows had drawn together sharply. "So all you'd be doing is supplying the money. You've even less sense than I thought!"

"I happen to trust him," she responded, teeth clamped. "I wouldn't be marrying him otherwise."

"Since when were emotions a sound basis for judge­ment?" He looked as if he would like to shake her. "You could no more view this thing objectively then you could your parents' marriage. This fiancé of yours sounds a real shady character to me!"

"You don't know him, and it's of no particular inter-est to me what you think! If the prospects are good enough to convince shrewd business men, they're good enough for me too." Her voice trembled with a little anger. "If it's any concern of yours, Marcus al-ready suggested having the whole thing drawn up by a solicitor to safeguard my interests."

"Which offer you promptly turned down with due expressions of protest, as he would no doubt anticipate." "That's not true!"

"Then you didn't turn it down?"

Greer bit her lip. "I meant it wasn't true that Marcus expected me to. He was very insistent."

"Knowing full well that the more insistent he got the less willing you'd be to take him up on it. I'll say one thing for him, he seems to have assessed you pretty well." The strong mouth was taut. "On the other hand, he was putting the cart before the horse. You haven't got the money yet."

"Only because you're being so bloody-minded about it," she retorted, forgetting the need for caution. "Overall I'm not even asking valuation. You'd be get­ting a bargain."

"Which is more than could be said for you." He waited a brief moment, his expression undergoing a change. "I'll tell you what. Cable this guy that you've changed your mind about selling out and see what his reaction is. If the engagement lasts through that I'd be willing to believe he's on the level."

"Our engagement has nothing to do with this af­fair," she snapped back at him. "My father was still alive, and seemingly fit for years, when we first began moving off the employer-employee basis."

"I don't doubt his inclinations," dryly. "But it's only recently that you've been wearing his ring."

She was suddenly still. "How would you have known that?"

"Observation. You didn't have it on this morning in bed. It's been a good summer in England this year, and you've a fair tan. If you'd been engaged all that long you'd have a mark where the ring fitted."

Her colour had risen a little. "Quite the detective, aren't you?"

"I'm capable of adding two and two." He paused "Well? When did he give it to you?"

"Mind your own damned business!" She pushed the barely touched mug of coffee away and got up, aware that several of the other occupants of the can. teen were looking their way. "I'm going."

"Sit down." Ty hadn't raised his voice, but his tone was enough to halt her. Eyes glinting, he added "While you still can."

"Don't be ridiculous," she came back scornfully. "You're not dealing with schoolgirls now!"

"Try swearing at me again and I shan't give a toss either way." The words were measured. "I said sit down."

She sat. There was no accounting for what this man might do given sufficient incentive. The shrug was meant to convey derision; she doubted if it fully suc­ceeded. "So what?" she queried.

"I've told you. Send that cable."

"I most certainly won't."

It was his turn to shrug. "Then send another saying I won't play ball. It amounts to the same thing."

She was silent, looking at him helplessly, pulling at her lower lip. "You said you'd consider it."

"So far you've given me no cause to believe I'd be doing you a favour. If you weren't Frank's daughter I'd say go ahead and make a fool of yourself."

"III weren't Frank's daughter I wouldn't be in this position anyway," she pointed out. "Nothing in the will stipulated my retaining of the interest."

"Only because it never occurred to him that you'd be idiot enough to consider selling out. He saw you enjoying a secure income for the rest of your life; doing what you wanted to do instead of what necessity forced upon you. If I'd had my way I'd have made it a requirement that you spent at least a couple of months in every year right here in Mackinlay, only he wouldn't listen."

"Obviously he had more depth of understanding than you!"

"I'm glad you're beginning to realize it. Pity you didn't try seeing it when he was alive." He caught her wrist, as she moved impatiently, pinning it down to the table top between them. "You can stay right there till I've finished. God knows why, for all the return he got, but your father loved you."

"So much that he let my mother take me away."

"She was determined to go, and it would have meant a legal tussle to keep you here, which he might or might not have won. Anyway he couldn't go through with it." Green eyes had narrowed. "Are you saying you would rather have stayed with him?"

"No. I...I don't know." Confusion held her. "I loved my mother. That way I'd never have known her either."

"And the kind of life you've lived? You still think you preferred that to what you could have had here?"

Her mouth looked suddenly vulnerable. "We had a very comfortable life. Nothing you have here would compare."

"Freedom?" he suggested. "Space to move? Our kids don't know what it is to be confined to a park."

"Our." The irony was deliberate, born of a need to stop the introspection he was inciting. "I didn't realise you had any."

"Don't be clever," he said brusquely. "Kids belong in marriage, not out of it. I'll have mine when the time's right."

"You mean when you find a woman good enough to marry?"

His quick grin disconcerted. "I'm not sure about the 'good'. Sounds boring. Let's say stimulating." The banter vanished from his voice. "We weren't talking about me, we were discussing your needs. Can this Marcus satisfy them?"

"Admirably." She shut off the fleeting memory of Ty's lips against hers. "He's thirty-two, not an inexpe­rienced boy."

"Have you slept with him?"

"No!" She caught herself up, conscious of what that too swift denial might have revealed. "Marcus has self-control."

"Bully for him. Sure you're not confusing it with lack of desire?"

"Quite sure." She was determined not to let him get to her again. "Not that I'd expected you to appreciate the subtleties. I'm sure no woman of yours is allowed to get away unscathed!"

"Unscathed?" He sounded amused. "If that's ho you regard it I can feel sorry for the guy. Maybe a few more lessons would benefit you both."

"Not your kind. I'm not turned on by a show of force!"

"That wasn't the impression I got a while back. You were definitely melting."

"No," she responded equably. "Just not bothering to protest once I realised that was what you were after.

It was the quickest way to end an unpleasant experi­ence."

"Have it your own way." The amusement was still there. "There's always another time."

"I doubt it." She made herself look him directly in the eyes. "I think there are only two reasons why you'd kiss a woman. One, because you wanted her physically, the other if you thought she needed putting in her place. You made it more than clear which one it was with me."

"I did?"

"You said it yourself—chastisement. All right, so I'm chastised. Repetition won't do anything for either of us."

He shook his head, intolerance in the line of his mouth. "You just won't let yourself come through, will you!"

"With what?"

"With what's underneath all this act you keep pulling. If there is anything. I'm beginning to have doubts. You might just be the empty-headed little brat that you make out!"

"Hardly a brat, Mr. Frazer," she said softly, "I'm of age."

"You wouldn't like the alternative either." He shoved back his chair with a scraping noise that turned heads, all trace of mockery wiped from his expression. "Come on, let's go into town for some food. I'm in need of a change."

The canteen had been steadily filling up without Greer noticing it. Walking the gauntlet of more than forty pairs of eyes, she tried to smile and act as if every-thing were normal. Yet what about this situation was normal? Normality was home, thousands of miles away. Home and Marcus. She wished she were back there with him right now. If her father were still alive none of this would be happening. All he'd done in leav­ing her everything this way was to create difficulties.

She was instantly ashamed. What he'd done he'd done with the best of intentions. It was she herself who was creating the real difficulties in her determination to help Marcus. But not just Marcus, of course. She'd stood to gain from the transaction too, and in more ways than one. She thrust from her mind the memory of his placing the ring on her finger two days after the news of her inheritance had come. What better time to wait for than her birthday to ask her to marry him?

They drove away from the mill site in a silence broken only by the noise of the engine. Greer looked out at the trees crowding on the roadway, following the tall straight trunks up through the varying levels of greenery to the distant blue sky.

"They're so much bigger than anything I antici­pated," she said at one point, half to herself. "Not only high but round."

"We've nothing to compare with British Columbia's firs," Ty responded without turning his head. "They achieve girths fourteen to fifteen feet in the south. These are fairly young. You'll see bigger and better up toward Talso."

She gave him a wary glance. "You're not still trying to get me up there, I hope."

"I'm not thinking of trying anything." His voice was quiet but with an underlying certainty. "I said you were going to get the complete picture, and I meant it. We go in the morning."

"For the day."

"Closer to a week, I'd say."

"A week!" She sat up straighter, eyes flying to his face. "Don't be ridiculous. You can't seriously expect me to fall in with that"

"You don't have any choice."

Didn't she though! Greer subsided again, sensing the futility in arguing with him any further. Whatever happened she was spending no week in the forest with Ty Frazer. If only Marcus were here to deal with the whole business for her. She doubted if Ty really in-tended to refuse the deal. All he was doing was using her as a butt, making her pay for the way he had thought she had treated her father while he had been alive. She refused to listen to the small inner voice which suggested he might just have some justification.

CHAPTER THREE

It was just on noon when they reached the town. Ty headed straight along Main Street to park outside a small red brick diner.

"Best apple pie in the whole country," he said.

The woman behind the counter was blond and middle-aged with a pleasant manner. She greeted Ty with easy familiarity, extending a friendly acknowledgement in Greer's direction. There was speculation in the look she gave the two of them. By now it must be all around the town that the newcomer had not spent the previous night in the hotel. Greer wondered what would happen if she announced the reason why she hadn't and appealed for help against Ty taking her back to the house again. She lacked the nerve to try with him sitting right there beside her. First of all she must shake him off.

Ty had a steak with all the trimmings for a main course. Greer said she would settle for the apple pie, not really feeling like either. The servings, when they came, were enormous, thick wedges of crisp pastry oozing fruit and topped with vanilla ice-cream, in her case, a piece of cheddar cheese being Ty's choice. She couldn't finish it all, but she had to agree it was deli­cious.

It was only when Ty began chatting with a man who had just come in that her opportunity came. He had slung his jacket over the chair-back between them with the pocket holding his keys underneath. By sliding her hand between the cloth and metal, Greer was able to locate the pocket and carefully fish out the key ring without being noticed, pushing the keys into her pocket with a prayer that they wouldn't jingle and give the game away.

He gave her a quick glance as she got up, but gave no comment when she indicated where she was going. Toillet facilities were located at the rear of the premises, reached through a door to one end of the serving counter. Another door at the far end of the corridor gave access, as she had hoped, to the outside. It took her only a moment or two to slip through it and round the side of the building to the sidewalk again.

The Range-Rover was parked where Ty had left it almost directly opposite where she had come out. She had watched him using the gears on the way in, and felt confident of her ability to handle the vehicle. One or two people looked her way when she got behind the wheel, but no one made any attempt to stop her. She put the car in gear for a quick getaway, then took a deep breath and depressed the clutch to switch on, letting it slip a little as the engine roared into life and narrowly avoiding stalling as the car jerked forward. The road was clear for the moment in both directions. She had a glimpse through the mirror of the diner door opening and put the car into hasty motion, drawing away from the roadside to head somewhat unsteadily in the direc­tion from which she had arrived the day before.

It was only as she had left the last buildings behind and was heading out along the red-dust road toward the ridge that she began to wonder just where she was go­ing. Up until then she had been acting on impulse, tak­ing her chances as they presented themselves without considering the steps beyond. Getting away from i' had been the main interest; showing him that she wasn't going to be pushed around without any say in the matter. Yet now that she had succeeded she was stuck. She knew no one to go to.

Her thoughts paused there. What about Gordon Terry? True, she had only met him yesterday, but he had seemed a man of considerable reliability. What she really needed was breathing space, both for her own sake and to give Ty time to realise how unreasonable he was being. And the Terry farm was the only place she was likely to get it—if she could find it.

The road down to Baxter's Halt seemed infinitely longer than it had on the way up the day previous, and very much more twisting. Greer was relieved when it finally began to flatten out into the valley floor, run­ning through acres of farmland where the trees stood heavy with fruit. Picking had already begun in many places, the workers moving with apparent indolence in the warmth of the afternoon sun. The name plates pinned to the mailboxes standing at the road end of the various farm approaches underlined the prevailing Scottish accent in the district: Campbell, Laurie, Mack­intosh and Duncan, with just one Poulain on the French side.

The town itself was sizeable compared with Mackinlay, boasting a small but sturdy cinema in addition to a selection of quite well varied shops. There were several saloons, a grey stone church with a bell tower, red brick civil buildings and a couple of garages set as if in direct competition at either end of the town's main street. The houses were scattered at main intervals, each pos­sessing its own neat garden plot.

The first person Greer stopped to ask was able to tell her that the Terry farm was out at the other side of town. No doubt everyone knew everyone else around these parts. She made it with one anxious eye on the fuel gauge, conscious of her lack of the wherewithal to buy more petrol even if she were able to find another garage outside of town. The farmhouse was very much like all the others she had seen, square and grey with dormer windows and a tiled roof. There were cattle on the near pastures, and only a short distance away a size-able pond with ducks and geese on its surface. Out here the main produce seemed to be ground crops with fruit taking a minor place.

At first glance the house appeared deserted. Only as Greer brought the car to a standstill in the dusty semi-square created by the adjoining out-buildings did a man appear in the opened doorway of what she took to be a barn. Gordon Terry himself, she was glad to see. Expla­nations would have been far too difficult if relayed through someone else. She got out as he came across, resting her weight against the door frame to ruefully flex her fingers gone stiff after the concentrated effort of driving so far in an unfamiliar vehicle.

"Hi," she said. "Sorry to drop in on you like this, but I had nowhere else to go."

"Glad to see you." If he was confused by her sudden arrival he didn't reveal it. He dusted off his hands against the seat of his pants, shoving the rolled sleeves of his check shirt farther up brawny arms and grinning as if he found the sight of her a welcome stimulant. "Didn't recognise you at first in that gear till I realised whose Rover it was. Leave Ty in town, did you?"

"No, he's still back in Mackinlay." She added frankly, "At least I hope so."

He studied her a moment, features uncertain."Trou­ble?"

"Of a kind." Greer hadn't thought beyond this mo­ment of finding refuge, and now found it difficult to know how to state the position. "It might sound over-dramatic, but I've been forced to escape from a situa­tion he was making impossible," she said at last. "He was keeping me up there against my will. I don't know the law out here, but where I come from that amounts to abduction."

"Same here if it really was that way." He sounded doubtful, eyes searching for any sign of the twinkle in hers which would give away the joke. "Sure you haven't misunderstood anything? I can't see Ty Frazer trying on a thing like that."

"Meaning he's hardly so short of female company that he'd need to?" she came back on a satirical note. "The circumstances are rather different from what you might be thinking. Call it an attempt on his part to make me pay for what should be past and done with. Will you help me, Gordon?"

"Surely." He sounded more certain of that. "How?"

"By letting me stay here while I get in touch with my fiancé in England. He'll have to come out and deal with this business himself. I just don't have the abil­ity."

"You're hitched up, are you?" The tone was defi­nitely disappointed. "Should have known you would be. Sure, you can stay here. My mother will be glad to have you."

Up until then Greer had given no consideration to the possibility that he, too, might live alone in the house. Not that it would have made all that much dif­ference. There was something trustworthy about Gor­don Terry regardless of his obvious admiration. The only reliable facet of Ty Frazer's make-up was his un-predictability.

"Do you think he's likely to find me out here?" she asked on a slight note of trepidation.

"Sooner or later, if he's looking for you."

"He'll be looking." The smile was slightly forced. "I pinched his car, apart from anything else." She hesi­tated. "I'm going to be putting you in an awkward posi­tion, aren't I?"

"Not so much, if what you say's right. Not even Ty Frazer has any call to jump the law that way."

Her brows lifted a fraction. "Is he so important?"

"Enough. Mackinlay relies on the Company for its existence. He's not without pull right here in Baxter, either. Shouldn't worry about it, though. Nobody's go­ing to agree with him putting any woman in a spot, much less Frank Patton's daughter."

"Not even when that same daughter neglected her father rather shamefully?" she queried on a wry note.

His shrug was faintly uncomfortable. "I don't know all the ins and outs, so I'm no judge of what was right and wrong. Neither is Ty, if it comes to that. He'll not take you back to Mackinlay without my say so."

"Thanks." She was genuinely grateful. "I hate hav­ing to appeal to anybody this way, but there seems no alternative. I didn't even have any money on me to cable Marcus from town."

"I'll go in and do it for you. Quickest and safest. Come inside and meet my mother first."

The inside of the house appeared to have the same basic layout as the one she had left that morning. Mrs. Terry was in the kitchen, a comfortably stout woman in her early sixties with a distinct resemblance to her son. She greeted Greer with open pleasure, listened to Gor­don's explanation of her sudden arrival with widening eyes and looked back at her to shake her head in total astonishment.

"I just can't think what Ty imagines he's going to accomplish this way," she said. "I never heard any-thing like it. He'll get the rough edge of my tongue if he comes looking for you!"

Gordon laughed. "And that's not a threat to be taken lightly, I can tell you. I'll get straight into town and get that cable off if you'll write down the address and message. Should think this fiancé of yours is go­ing to be on the first plane after he hears what's hap­pening."

Greer hoped so. She needed him now as she had never needed him before. She took the pencil and paper Gordon found for her, and jotted down the ad--dress, chewing on the end a moment or two before de­ciding on the best way of putting what she wanted to say. The finished result was brief but planned to have maximum effect: Frazer unco-operative. Vital you join me if deal to go through. Staying Terry's farm Baxter until you arrive.

Gordon scanned the message once, gave her a curi­ous glance, but didn't ask the obvious question. "Right, I'll be off while the going's good. If I see Ty I'll tell him you're not interested."

"What about the Rover?" she asked. "He'll hardly be prepared to leave that with me."

"He can come out and fetch it. You don't have to see him if you don't want to." He hefted a hand in casual farewell. "See you later. Don't let the boys hassle her," with a grin directed at his mother.

"They'll be up before I'm back."

"I'll keep her out of sight," she promised.

Greer turned a smile on the older woman as Gordon departed. `I can't tell you how grateful I am to you for taking me in like this. I mean, as a complete stranger I'd..

"Not a stranger exactly," Mrs. Terry was quiet but emphatic. "Your father was a good friend for many years while my husband was alive—and after it too. He talked a lot about you, especially this last year or two."

"Since my mother died?" Greer met the steady glance without flinching. "Did you ever meet her?"

"Only a couple of times when Frank brought her down to Baxter on shopping trips." There was a certain hesitation before she added, "She wasn't much of a mixer, your mother. I expect we didn't have too much in the way of entertainment in those days. Things are different now."

"In Mackinlay too?" The question was soft.

"Well, no, not so much up there perhaps," with a certain reluctance. "Can't expect it, can you, consider­ing? Still the same distance as well though."

"Still the same climate too, I expect. Does that road remain open all year round?"

"No. No, it doesn't. It might be shut off for a day or two some years." She was struggling to be fair. "I don't suppose it was easy for a woman like your mother was to settle to our kind of isolation—any more than it would be for such as yourself. You're used to living in a city with a lot of people around you all the time and plenty to do for an evening. Out here we like sitting and chatting; or maybe just sitting when there's time to do it. Never is, during the daytime. Always some menfolk wanting a meal or a clean shirt or something else. Al-ways stock needs taking care of." It wasn't a complaint, just a simple statement of fact. She smiled suddenly. "Not that I can't always make time for a break if I really want it. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"I'd love one." Greer moved from the dresser where she had been leaning. "Let me make it, can I?"

"Glory, don't take my grousing to heart, girl. I'm not run off my feet. Sit yourself down and stop worry­ing. It isn't often I have a visitor to talk to during the day, specially one all the way from England." She busied herself with the kettle before adding, "You know, I can't help thinking you and Ty must have got at cross-purposes somewhere. He's a man who does more or less as he likes, but I've never known him go this far before."

"Perhaps because he's never met with the same sit­uation before," Greer suggested. "I'm willing to concede a point or two with regard to his feelings over my father, but nothing is going to persuade me to excuse him for making me spend the whole night in that house with him." She caught the quick, startled look and made hasty amends. "Oh, he stayed away from me. I don't mean that. Only I certainly wouldn't trust him to do it for a whole week while he supposedly shows me these logging camps he keeps on about."

"Is that what he was going to do?" on a considering note. "Well, I daresay it wasn't a bad idea at that. Ru­mour has it that Frank left you his half of the company. Seeing as you're out here at all you must be interested in seeing how things are run."

"I'm interested," Greer said carefully, "in trying to get Ty hazer to take my share off me. You'd think he would have jumped at the chance."

"Not necessarily. It's always been Frazer/Patton. He might think it bad luck to change things now."

"He doesn't have to change it. I've already told him he can keep the name. I'll be changing mine soon enough anyway."

Mrs. Terry said bluntly, "Is that why you need the money?"

"In a way." Greer wasn't prepared to go any further. "Marcus will soon sort things out when he gets here."

"If Ty lets him," on a note of humour. "He's like his father—stubborn."

"Sure you don't mean pig-headed?" Greer asked with feeling, and gained a laugh.

"You're certainly no fan of his, are you, dear! Ty isn't a bad kind."

"Providing he's getting his own way." Greer felt a sudden little quiver run through her. "And he's n going to do that with me. It isn't even as if I were try' to rob him. He'd be getting control of the whole bus ness for much less than it's actually worth."

"With Ty it's doubtful that money would be the main concern," came the judicious reply. "He though( a whole lot of your father."

"And he hated my mother."

"He was barely old enough to have any particular kind of feeling when she left Mackinlay. And hate is a very strong word to use."

"What else would you call the kind of feeling that makes him want to take it out on me for what she did?" Her voice was low but impassioned.

The glance she received was thoughtful. "If that's how you see it. I'd say you're the one he wants to see humbled for not having come to see your father once while he was alive."

"I did see him."

"Only when he came to you, and not even then with any attempt at understanding him."

Greer swallowed thickly on the lump in her throat. "Is that what he told you?"

"He didn't have to tell me. It was always too obvious when he came back from those visits to England. Frank gave up all hope of ever getting his wife back many years ago, but he always hoped that one day you'd for-give him."

"Don't. Please!" It was little more than a murmur, the gold head bent, mouth vulnerable. "I know haven't been all I should have been. I'm beginning to find out just how much I've missed. But being sorry now isn't going to alter things. My father is dead. It's too late."

"Perhaps you're right." Mrs. Terry brought the earthenware pot of tea to the table and took cups and saucers from the dresser. "Let's have this while it's hot and talk about something else. Tell me about London. I've never been there, of course, but it sounds a big place. What kind of job do you have back at home?"

Greer pulled herself together with an effort, consc­ious of the kindness in the other's face and voice. `I'm a secretary—or a personal assistant, if you want to make it sound good. Marcus is my boss."

"That's your fiancé?"

"Yes." She went on talking, not really thinking about what she was saying, unaware of how much she was giving away now that her guard was down. "He's a very clever man with a brilliant future. I'm very lucky."

"So is he." The statement was dry. Her tone changed a little as she added, "I'm hoping Gordon won't wait too long before getting married. I'd love some grandchildren before I'm too old to enjoy them."

"Does he have a girl-friend?"

"Nobody special. There aren't all that many young, unattached girls in Baxter."

Greer's interest perked up despite herself. "How about Mackinlay? I met a very pretty girl called Diane Ford this morning. She came out to the house."

"Is that young madam still chasing after Ty? She needs her bottom smacked!"

The smile was faint. "I understand he already did that "

"Not hard enough, then. Dolly and Pete should never have left her and Tom on their own. He can't cope with the farm and his sister while their parents globe-trot."

"Literally?"

"Well, maybe not quite. They've gone to Australia to see their other son and his wife and family. Tom is a good boy and a hard worker. Young Di is another matter altogether. Pretty, all right. Had half the young men round here eating out of her hand."

"But not Gordon?"

"He's more sense. Anyway, she's interested in no-body else but Ty."

"Perhaps not in future. He sent her away with a flea in her ear this morning."

The comment brought a smile to the other's face. "That must be an English saying. I haven't heard it before, but it's very descriptive. Good for him. It's more than time he stopped her going on her own to his place."

"Because of his reputation with women?"

"Does he have one?" Mrs. Terry sounded more in­terested than shocked. "I always thought of him as be­ing too much of a lone wolf to be attractive to a lot of women." She paused, added thoughtfully, "Although come to think of it ..."

"What?" prompted Greer with unwonted curiosity as the rest of the sentence petered out.

"Nothing really," came the disappointing reply on a suddenly brisker note. "Gossip, that's all." She took a look at the kitchen clock on the near wall and gave a small exclamation of dismay. "Look at the time, and me without a single thing done toward supper! The boys will be up inside an hour looking for food."

"Let me help," Greer offered with alacrity. "If I'm going to be staying with you for a few days I'll need to feel I'm of some use."

The smile offered no argument this time. "That's very nice of you. Afterwards we'll try and find you one or two things to be going on with. I don't suppose you had a chance to bring anything with you?"

"No, I didn't," Greer acknowledged ruefully. "I just took the opportunity when it presented itself."

"You must be very impulsive, then. Not many women could find it in themselves to leave all their belongings behind."

"Depends what they were running away from," with a mock grimace. "I might not have got another chance before he dragged me off into the forest!"

"Oh, I'm sure you're taking that threat far too seri­ously." The tone was tolerant. "He couldn't have forced you to go anywhere without your co-operation."

Greer wouldn't have liked to bet on it. Still, Mrs. Terry was probably right. Anyway, the question no longer arose, did it?"

She was peeling potatoes at the kitchen sink when she heard the car engine. Mrs. Terry looked up from her own task with a hint of surprise. "That didn't take him long!" A moment later she said, "No, that's not Gordon's car." Her eyes met Greer's suddenly wid­ened ones in wry acknowledgment.

"Brace yourself, child, I have a feeling Gordon isn't going to be back in time to take care of this for you." From where she stood Greer could see the new arrival turn into the yard and come to a stop. Ty got out unhurriedly to stand looking at his own vehicle for a long moment before turning toward the house. She i drew back from the window as he strode for the porch, wiping her hands down the sides of her jeans with a ' sense almost of panic.

A tap on the half open door, and then he was in the kitchen, filling the doorway, thumbs hooked into trou­ser pockets, face unrevealing.

"Sorry to rob you of your helpmate, Beth," he said, not unpleasantly. "We've business still to discuss." He nodded to Greer. "Ready?"

"Not to go anywhere with you." She didn't move. "I'm here and I'm staying until something can be done about you!"

His speed took her by surprise. One moment he was over by the door, the next swinging her up and over one broad shoulder, an arm across the back of her knees to hold her there as she pummelled wildly at his back.

"Ty Frazer, you just stop that!" Mrs. Terry cried in­dignantly. "What do you think you're doing, man?"

"Taking in a car thief," he responded without glanc­ing back. "And you might advise Gordon this is be­tween the Frazers and Pattons and nobody else."

"Put me down!" Greer hissed between her teeth, realising the futility of further struggling.' You just put me down, you louse!"

"Some lady!" He was unmoved. "I'll put you down all right when we get to the car."

When he did, it was unceremoniously, dumping her in the front passenger seat with a jolt that shook her. "Move," he said, "and I'll tie you in!"

Mrs. Terry had come out on to the porch to watch them depart, looking helpless. There was nothing very much she could have done, Greer acknowledged. She lifted a reassuring hand in her direction, seeing no rea­son to cause the woman further distress by fighting Ty any more at the moment. Then he was sliding behind the wheel and switching on the ignition, his face hardening when he saw the fuel gauge.

"You'd better hope that lasts us into Baxter," he said.

"You're such a big man," she retorted with irony.

"Push it!"

His smile held a certain grim amusement. "I've a feeling you and I are going to have to come to some kind of understanding before we're through."

"I thought we already had." She clutched at the edge of her seat as he put the vehicle into somewhat violent motion. "We don't like one another!"

"Is that what you call it?"

"What else? You're not worth the trouble of hating!"

Green eyes glinted in the lowering sunlight. "That can be remedied."

Greer was silent after that. There seemed little point in a verbal battle one couldn't hope to win. She felt so totally helpless against this man. Ty Frazer was a law unto himself, and determined to make her subject to it.

Wouldn't it be easier in the long run to simply go along with him and get it over? Marcus would be here when they got back from this trip up to the logging camps. He would sort things out. For the present she must learn to grin and bear it. She didn't have a great deal of choice, it seemed.

"How did you find me so quickly, anyway?" she asked gruffly after a long pause. "Somebody in to tell you?"

"I didn't come through town. Met old Matt Camp-bell on his way home. He told me you'd been asking for the Terry place. It was quicker to cut across."

"You're lucky Gordon wasn't there. You mightn't have found it so easy to just walk in the way you did if he had been."

"Probably not." His tone was dry. "Considering you could only have met him for the first time yesterday afternoon, you must have done a pretty convincing job on the shoulder sobbing."

"I didn't need to do any once they'd heard what you were trying to make me do."

"Nothing wrong with showing you round your own property."

"There is when it's under duress."

"All right." He brought the car to a sudden stop, turning his head to look at her with a calculating expression. "So get out now and walk back to the Terry place. I won't stop you. Only if you do go, I can tell you now there'll be no deal. Either you cut out the whining and start acting like a Patton, or you can whistle for that fifty thousand. Right?" He waited a long, tense mo­ment, mouth curling when she made no move. He made no further comment as he started the car moving again.

They made it to the first of the two garages, but only just. Ty told the attendant to fill the tank, and got out himself to check the offside front wheel. No need for him to keep an eye on her now, Greer acknowledged wryly. She wasn't going anywhere. There was nowhere for her to go except back to Mackinlay and the house. She remembered the broken lock on the bedroom door and tried not to dwell on the way he had kissed her that morning. The incident wouldn't be repeated. She would make sure he had no chance to repeat it.

Gordon Terry was coming along the main street as they nosed out from the forecourt. He saw them at the same time as they saw him, swinging his own vehicle across to block their exit.

"What's the big idea, Ty?" he demanded, getting out.

"Just been to fetch my partner home." The reply was easy.

"Not willingly, though."

"Ask her."

Blue eyes found grey, the latter flinching a little.

"It's all right, Gordon," she said. ''Honestly. I'll be okay." She summoned a smile. "Thanks, anyway. And thank your mother for me."

He stood there looking at her, the indecision apparent. It took Ty to break the deadlock. "You heard her. Mind getting your car out of the way? I want to make it

back before dark."

The younger man moved to obey, unable to do any-

thing else under the circumstances. Greer avoided his gaze when they finally moved forward again, realising the unlikelihood of his understanding her reasons for

this sudden change of heart.

"And there," said Ty softly, changing gear, "goes a

disillusioned man!"

Her lips tightened. "And who's to blame?"

The nights now were cool, the fall upon them. Soon the days themselves would grow cold and shorten, the leaves disappear from the trees. Snow would settle feet thick on the hills and in the valleys, staying till spring brought temperatures warm enough to melt it away again. For whole weeks the road they travelled now might be impassable, cutting off those who lived on the high ground from access to the outside world. Oddly the thought was not off-putting.

Mackinlay was quiet when they went through, but they ran into the returning mill workers about a mile the other side of town. Horns were blown in greeting, echoing off the lake below. Then they were turning off the main roadway down toward the water, stopping close up to the house on the end of a wide sweep which had brought them round facing the way they had come.

"You've got about fifteen minutes to grab what you need," Ty said, getting out.

Greer gave him a startled look. "You mean we're going out there now—tonight?"

"Why not? The sooner we start the sooner we get back."

"But they'll not be expecting us. At the camp, I mean."

"What did you think I was going to do in the morn­ing, send a runner ahead?" The sarcasm bit. "It's no holiday hotel up there. Folk come and go. We'll start off at Talso and work our way back down to Brendon."

Thirty miles of this kind of terrain. It would be dark long before they got there. Greer thought about ar­guing the point, then gave up the idea with a resigned

Timber Bo

"You are, for letting this affair go beyond the two of us."

"Affair?" The scathing little laugh seemed to come from outside of herself. "Don't count on it!"

The glance he gave her was narrowed. "If you want to keep the cart on wheels you'd better avoid that kind of come-on."

"It wasn't meant as one." She could feel the warmth rise under her skin despite all she could to stop it. What on earth had made her say a thing like that?

"Well, it sure sounded like one. Next time I might just take you up on it, so watch yourself."

There was no answer she could find adequate to ex-press her thoughts at that precise moment. She bit her lip, aware of the sardonic twist to his. He was ahead of her at every turn, and dangerous with it.

"I think you should know I sent a cable to Marcus," she said at last. "If anything happens to me you'll have him to answer to."

The movement of his head held exasperation. "Just can't let go, can you? If anything happens to you, sweetheart, it'll be self-inflicted! Now shut up and stay shut up! I'm in no mood for bandying threats with a mule-headed female who doesn't even know when she's beaten."

Greer had nothing to say anyway. She had, so to speak, shot her bolt. The sun was already low down toward the horizon, lending an orange-gold glow to the surrounding landscape. It would be dusk by the time they reached their destination. Dusk and then dark; the deep, fragrant darkness of these Canadian backwoods.

460 ï'imber Boss

sigh. If Ty said they were going now then nothing she could say or do was going to change matters. He was obviously enjoying the thought of making her rough it for a week, and the best way of spoiling his fun was to go along uncomplainingly.

She was outside again within ten minutes, carrying a change of clothing in a duffle bag she had found in the bedroom. She saw Ty glance once at the cream leather travel case she held in her other hand, but he made no comment other than to tell her to put it in the back. There seemed to be a lot of stuff already in there which hadn't been there before. Extra supplies for Talso, probably. She wondered how many men lived on the camps at any one time and for how long a stretch. To-day was Tuesday. No doubt Saturday night would find Mackinlay's two saloons full of lumberjacks bent on making up for a week's isolation in the shortest possible time.

They left the road before they reached the mill this time, forking right along a dusty track which began al-most immediately to climb through the trees. The surface was rough to the point of nonexistence, jolting the vehicle first to one side and then to the other in a man­ner Greer soon found distinctly uncomfortable. Ty didn't appear to notice any lack of smoothness in the ride, but then he was used to it. She wouldn't put it past him to have chosen the worst route available up to the camp just for her benefit. If so, he was going to be disappointed, because she wasn't going to utter one word of complaint. Nothing he threw at her on this trip would make her do that, she was determined on it. She would gain his respect one way if not another. She didn't stop to question why it should be of any impor­tance at all that she do so.

Her resolve was put to the test sooner than she had anticipated. Only about twenty miles or so had gone on the mileage meter when Ty suddenly swung the car off the track to come to an abrupt halt under the trees. The grass was coarse and stubby, the ground rock-hard, falling away in front of them toward the distant lake. It wasn't yet quite dark, the tree tops silhouetted against a sky still faintly opaque, with a build-up of cloud to the west. The birds had gone to roost, their twitterings already subdued by approaching night. The stillness could almost be felt.

"This will do us for tonight;" he said. "There's a pup tent in the back you can use. I'll make do with a blanket roll." He was sliding from behind the wheel as he spoke, going around to the rear of the vehicle. "Come and give me a hand with the gear, I'll get a fire going and then we can eat."

Greer got stiffy to the ground, easing her limbs. "You don't really expect me to camp out here with you," she said disbelievingly.

"Yes, I do, unless you fancy sitting up in the car all night." He came round from the back carrying blankets and a roll of canvas, took a glance around for the level-est spot and strode over to dump them on the ground. "Don't just stand there. You'll find some tins and an opener in one of the packs, along with a couple of pans. You can open a tin?"

"I have a diploma in cooking," she came back smartly, and regretted it at once as she saw his mouth widen sardonically.

"That should help. You can lend Frenchy a hand when we hit camp tomorrow. The boys might appre­ciate some culinary expertise. I'll settle for beef stew tonight."

There was little else she could do but go along. That he had planned this whole thing purposely was per­fectly obvious. Well, let him do his worst! No, she didn't mean that. Ty Frazer's methods were too unor­thodox for chivalry to hold any sway.

He had a fire already lit by the time she had every-thing she needed to hand. She had never cooked over an open fire before in her life, but warming up food from a tin could hardly present any problems. The smell of the wood-smoke was curiously enervating, tin­gling her nostrils and arousing distant memories of garden bonfires on the crisp autumn days of her child-hood in Hampstead, of sweeping up the leaves from the two huge ash trees which had dominated the lawn.

She had always loved trees, she recalled. That feel­ing, at least, she had shared with her father. Yet his life's work had been to chop them down, to see them ripped and torn and rendered into lifeless planks. Something in her sprang to defend that seeming incon­gruity. Timber was a commodity essential to the civil­ised world, and for every tree cut down in its prime another would be planted, with years ahead of it to grow and spread. It was only when the cutting became indiscriminate that forests were ruined, and she doubt­ed that would ever happen here. Whatever his faults, Ty cherished this land of his. No, not just his—theirs, she reminded herself, and felt a swift little thrill of pride in that possession.

The tinned stew proved both tasty and filling. They ate it off tin plates with a spoon, cleaning them up with hunks of bread cut from the loaf Ty had thrown in with the provisions. Leaning back against one of the packs afterwards with a mug of coffee in her hand, Greer gave vent to a sigh that was close enough to contentment to draw her companion's ironical glance.

"Tired?"

"Yes." She didn't meet his eyes. "It's been a long day."

"It might have been an easier one if you'd let it."

"Accepted your dictum without question, you mean?" She shook her head. "I'm here under protest and I don't care who knows it. You're too used to having things your own way."

"It seems I'm getting them anyway, unless you plan on running away again." His tone was light. "I wouldn't advise it."

"Personally, I think there's nothing you'd like better," she retorted caustically. "One more opportunity to show me how much of a man you are! I'm out of my environment in this setting, which gives you a distinct advantage to start with. Without that you might not have found me so easy to handle."

"Who said I'd found you easy to handle?" There was a note in his voice difficult to define. "You're not like any other female I ever had dealings with, I'll grant you that." He paused before tagging on softly, "As to showing you how much of a man I am—" the smile was taut "—I might just get round to that too before we're through. I've never seen a girl your age as much in need of a full-blooded love affair."

"As an expert, I'm sure you know best." She was hard put to keep her voice level. "You did say I could have the tent?"

"All to yourself." He got to his feet to secure a blan­ket from the stack he had dumped nearby, tossing it to her. "There's a sleeping bag already in there, but you might need this in the early hours. Sing out if you need any help."

Greer didn't bother answering that one. She took the blanket and knelt in front of the low tent to lift the flap and crawl inside. There was just room for her to sit upright in the middle if she were careful, none at all for any kind of manoeuvring. She thought of the white case containing all the various creams and lotions con­sidered essential to the preservation of a smooth skin, and decided routine would have to go by the board for once. She was hardly going to develop wrinkles over-night. Certainly nothing was going to persuade her to fetch it across under Ty's mocking gaze.

It went against the grain to sleep in her clothes, but there didn't seem much alternative to that either. She wriggled down into the sleeping bag with an effort, zip-ping it up and lying there staring straight up at the white, moon-illuminated canvas. She could hear Ty moving around outside, the hiss from the fire as he poured water on it to douse out the embers. No risks to be taken this close to his precious trees. There came a long pause during which the sounds of forest night-life came filtering through, then he was back close by the tent, his shadow enormous with the moon behind him, sinking to the ground with the blankets wrapped about him.

"Night," he said softly.

She didn't answer, pulsatingly aware of his closeness on the far side of the thin canvas. Had anyone told her before setting off on this venture that within thirty-six hours of her arrival she would be sleeping alone in the forest with a man she barely knew she'd have laughed at them. Yet here she was, and not finding it so very unpleasant either. If there was one good thing Ty did offer it was a sense of security—from outside danger, at any rate. She closed her mind to the gnawing suspicion that he might represent the greatest danger of all.

CHAPTER FOUR

The moon was down when she awoke, the canvas dark above her head. She was cold, she realised, her limbs stiff and aching from their confinement. When she tried to reach out for the blanket she had left on the ground sheet close by the tent flap she found he fingers couldn't stretch that far, but by pressing with her free hand on the ground at her side she could just about manage to sit halfway up. She caught hold of the blanket and pulled it toward her, lost her balance, and fell backward again with muffled yell as her feet came up to strike the pole and bring the canvas collapsing slowly down on her.

Ty had her out from under in no time, scarcely able to contain his amusement as he freed her from the sleeping bag which had stuck with the zip only part way down.

"Having a nightmare?" he inquired.

"If I was it shouldn't be surprising!" She was sheep­ish, and furious with herself for giving him cause to laugh at her "That's not a tent, it's a straight-jacket!"

"If you feel like that about it I'll not bother putting it up again. It is only another hour or so till first light. You'd better bed down alongside." He saw her face and curled a lip. "You'll be safe enough in the sleeping bag."

Taken all round, Greer would have rather settled for the tent again, but it was too late now to say so. She spread the sleeping bag out several feet away from the other tumbled blankets, and crawled into it. This time the zip wouldn't budge at all. Ty watched her struggle for a moment or two before coming over to kneel at her side and take it from her furiously tugging fingers.

"You're your father's daughter, all right," he said. "You won't get anywhere that way."

She forced herself to relax as he eased the zip away from the material where it had caught, and drew it all the way up. With only her head showing she felt some-how more vulnerable. Ty made no immediate attempt to move away, but knelt there at her side with one leg bent to support an arm, his expression hard to read in the darkness.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

"Yes." She hesitated before tagging on softly, "What you said just then—about me being like my father, what did you mean?"

The shrug was faint but discernible. "You've got the same way of venting your feelings. If you can't get at what's really bugging you, you take it out on something else."

The pause was longer. "Were you the whipping boy?"

"Only on the odd occasion, and not for long." He shook his head. "No, work was his outlet. He'd come back from those trips to England like a man bent on asserting himself one way if not another."

"You think he'd have been more of a man if he'd taken my mother by the scruff of her neck and forced her to come back with him?"

"I didn't say that. With her it wouldn't have been any good."

She look at him for a long moment. "But you'd have done it anyway."

"With me the situation wouldn't have arisen. Marriage has to have more than just an emotional basis to make it work."

"Compatibility?" "If you like."

"I'd have thought you might find that a bit dull."

His mouth widened briefly. "Don't confuse the is-sue. Being compatible doesn't mean never being at cross-purposes. It means having the same basic interests and ambitions. The woman I married would haw to want no other kind of life but this."

Greer swallowed on the sudden aching tightness in her throat. "Supposing you did what my father did and fell in love with somebody unsuitable. Would you still be as rigid then, do you think?"

"About marriage, yes." He had sunk to a sitting po­sition, one foot doubled under the other bent knee.

"Out here a man needs a woman he can rely on. One who'll give him a couple of kids without worrying about what it's going to do to her figure."

"With him being the first to complain if she lost it," on a caustic note. "There's more to being a wife than providing a man with home comforts and a sleeping partner!"

"There is?" His tone was suddenly mocking. "I suppose that means you intend keeping on your career after you marry this Marcus character."

"Yes, it does. Why should I be expected to give it up?" She was taut with an anger she couldn't fully ex-plain. "Marcus wouldn't ask me to."

"That's his look-out. If you were mine you wouldn't have a choice."

If she were his. Heart thudding against her ribs, she said carefully, "I daresay not, but then you'd never choose a woman who might want a choice in the first place, would you? You could do worse than marry Di­ane Ford, you know. She's young enough to idolise your kind of masculinity!"

"Idolisation isn't what I'm after."

"Subservience, then."

"Not that either." His indifference was a spur. "Look, you've no idea what you're talking about. Let's leave it there."

"Typical." She was too incensed to consider the deli­cacy of her own situation. "Look up, or shut up! l pity any woman you do marry!"

"She'll have compensations."

"I can't imagine what."

Even in darkness it was possible to sec the swift gleam in his eyes. He didn't say anything, just reached for her, gathering her up bodily in the sleeping bag with hard hands. She had thought his mouth was ruthless before, but this time it was infinitely more so. Being cocooned the way she was made it worse because she couldn't move a limb to help herself. Only when he momentarily released her to slide down the zip and draw her out of it did she manage to fling an arm wildly across the base of his throat.

"Stop it, Ty! Leave me alone!"

"Isn't this what you were after?" His tone was rough, and not just with anger. "To find out what it took to make me go for you?"

"No!" She tried her utmost to struggle upright away from his merciless grasp. "No, it wasn't!"

"Too bad." With one jerk he put her flat again, looming over her with his hands pinning her shoulders. "You need showing the difference between a man who'll let you get away with that kind of needling and one who won't."

"You wouldn't dare!" Her eyes were dilated, her whole body tensed against his hold on her. But there

was a certain lack of conviction in her voice. The

change of tactics was instinctive. "You're not a sav­age!"

"No, I'm not, but there's something about you that could easily turn a man into one." He still made no attempt to release her, although the purpose had di­minished a little. "So what do you have to say?"

He wanted an apology—or was it just her submittance? Either way, she obviously wasn't going to get out of this position without it. "I'm sorry," she said, tight-lipped. "I should have known better.

"You will in future." He let her go, sitting back on his heels to watch her come upright and rub her shoulders. "You might say we've both learned some- thing tonight. Limitations. I'll respect yours if you'll respect mine."

She gave him an oblique glance which took in the enigmatic expression on the strong features. "Would you really have gone further if I hadn't backed down?"

"You mean you still have doubts?" The irony was deliberate. "I'd have been doing nothing against my nat­ural instincts, if in fact that's what you're getting at."

Her head jerked. "You mean you...."

"Wanted you?" he supplied as she hesitated on the word. "You bet I did, honey. There's as much enticement in a challenge as there is in an offer."

Her response when it came was low and shaken. "God, I dews( you!"

"Sure you do. But you're as aware of me as I am of you, so let's not mistake it. If you want to come through these next few days unscathed you'd better re-member a few elementary rules." He stood up then, big, broad and unbeatable. "About time we got some sleep if we're aiming for an early start."

"I don't feel like sleep." She wanted to say she was cold but was afraid that too might be misconstrued. "If you'd get a fire going I could make some coffee. It will be light soon anyway."

There was an element of reluctant admiration in the glance he gave her. "I'll say one thing for you, you don't lack stamina."

"Thanks." She strove to keep her tone level. Fur­ther enticement was the last thing she wanted—or was it? "I'll learn as I go along."

The fire was put together in minutes, the crackling wood a comforting sound in the pre-dawn hush. The coffee took longer to make. By the time it was ready to drink the glow was already spreading in the eastern skyline, first red, then gold, then merging into palest blue, the little woolly clouds tinged pink at their base. The birds were in full chorus before the first rays shot out from behind the distant hills, the trees alive with movement. A breeze sprang up from out of nowhere and as swiftly died again. Colour grew slowly and steadily about them, the green interlaced with yellow and amber soon to become autumn brown. Only the firs remained unaffected by the season's changes, standing tall and straight and majestic.

Greer felt a lump come into her throat. There was something about this country which stirred her immea­surably. This country? Her country, if birthright meant anything. Here she had spent the first year of her life, Here, if circumstances had not dictated differently, she would have grown up with Ty as a friend instead of an enemy. She sighed inwardly. Life was so full of "if on-lies," and it never did the least bit of good dwelling on them. She had to work things out from here and now.

They set off again as soon as they were packed up, the sun already warm with promise.

"Is this what you call Indian Summer?" she asked idly at one point.

He shrugged. "For me it's just an extension of along dry spell. Probably end in a hefty storm."

"With thunder and lightning?"

His glance was assessing. "Scared of storms?"

"Not unduly. I was just thinking, with all these big trees around there must be a certain danger of them getting struck."

"A very real danger. There's more than one fire been started by lightning. We just have to keep on our toes and hope for the best."

It was several minutes before she spoke again, and when she did it was on a different tack. "There must come a time when the weather makes work impossible. What do you do then, batten down the hatches and wait for the thaw?"

"In a manner of speaking. I normally spend a few eeks down in Montreal around Christmas."

"Oh?"

The surprise in her tone brought a faint dry smile to his lips. "I've nothing against city life, for a period. Makes you appreciate what you've got even more."

"Did my father ever take my mother to the city in he winter?" she queried softly.

"Not that I remember. There'd hardly have been time. The first year you were on the way, the next you were too young." He paused. "Things were different then anyway"

"Yes, I suppose so."

Ty swung the wheel to take a sharp bend in the track, said bluntly, "Look, it wouldn't have made any differ­ence in the long run. Your mother didn't just want an occasional jaunt. She wanted him out of it altogether."

"You were only a boy yourself at the time," Greer came back with the same sharpness. "How were you qualified to judge a thing like that?"

"I had eyes, and ears, and enough sense to realise when two people were at loggerheads. I'd lost my own mother a year or so earlier, and I had good reason to know what a home life could be like."

"I'm sorry."

"No cause for you to be. You didn't know her, and it was all a long time ago."

His tone did not encourage further probing, but something in her prompted it. "It must have been very; difficult for you and your father all on your own."

"Some might call it easy. No woman around to regi­ment our time. We used to eat when we felt like it, sleep on the porch if we wanted, go off on hunting trips." He shrugged. "Kids are resilient at that age. I soon adjusted."

"But not your father?"

"He pretended to. He couldn't have done it at all with-out Frank's support. They'd grown up like brothers."

She said without thinking. "Like we might have grown up as brother and sister given the chance."

"Not in the same sense. The age gap was too much." Irony infiltrated. "I remember once overhearing a sug­gestion of marriage between us when we were both of an age."

She kept her voice light. "What was your reaction?" "Unrepeatable. To a boy of ten you were just a squalling brat."

"You don't seem to think I've changed all that much."

Green eyes slid swiftly over her, his mouth tilting. "It's a matter of degree. You've filled out in all the right places."

Her own mouth tautened. "With you it always has to come back to basics, doesn't it."

"Tell me what else we have in common?"

She could have tried, but she doubted if he would believe her. The feeling she had for this country, this land, was too much in its infancy to lend any colour to the words. "Nothing," she said "Not one solitary thing. And that includes what you're talking about. How long before we make Talso?"

He accepted the change of topic without demur. "Half an hour. Be there in time for breakfast."

"And how long are you planning on staying?"

"As long as it takes."

The reply was enigmatic enough to mean anything. Greer decided to leave well alone. Nothing she could say would make any difference anyhow. Ty would please himself.

They came on the camp from above, emerging from the forest on a slight lip overlooking the main area. There were several prefabricated buildings, some small, some large, and a water tower raised on stilts. Some items of machinery stood about, but there was no sign of human habitation.

"Looks like the boys have already left," Ty com­mented as they came down into the flattened dust patch in front of what he'd told her was the mess hall. "Hope Frenchy has something left. I could eat a horse!"

Greer felt more in need of a bath first, but refrained from saying so. Time enough to sort out the camp's facilities after a meal, though from the look of the place they would almost certainly be primitive. The mess hall looked much like the one down at the mill, except that it was empty. Ty led the way through to the rear, lifting the flap on the serving counter to pass into the kitchen premises just as a small dark man wearing a striped butcher's apron threw a huge, half-washed cooking pan on the floor with a savage sounding exclamation in French.

"Having trouble?" Ty asked mildly, and was re-warded with a baleful glare as the other man shot around from the deep, greasy sink with dripping hands.

"Trouble?" he demanded in English without revealing any hint of surprise at their sudden appearance. "No, no trouble. I quit! You hear? I quit!"

"Okay." Ty sounded singularly unmoved. "So you quit. Where are you going to get another job this late on?"

"Quebec. Plenty of jobs in Quebec! Cooking jobs, not pan washing!"

"Always providing you've saved enough to get there." Ty shook his head. "Some hope. What hap­pened to the kid I got in to do the dirty work?"

"He quit." The word seemed to hold a fascination. "One week and he quit. He was no good!" For the first time he seemed to register Greer's presence and his expression altered. "You come to help out old Frenchy, eh?"

"No such luck." Ty was grinning. "She probably wouldn't know one end of a dish mop from the other."

"And you would, of course." Her tone was saccharine-coated. "I don't mind helping out with a few pots and

pans if it's going to save trouble." She gave the little

French-Canadian her warmest smile. "I'm Greer Pat-ton."

"Jacques Dugas," he returned, looking suddenly nonplussed. "Patton?"

"The same." Ty was enjoying himself. "Any food left? We haven't eaten breakfast yet."

"I'll fix it." His temper cooled, the other dried off his hands and began darting about. In no time at all two places were laid on a cleared portion of the large central table, and a plate crammed with scotch pancakes placed between them, along with ajug of maple syrup. Greer shook her head hastily when he asked if she wanted ham and eggs to follow.

"Just coffee and one of these will do me, thanks." she said.

"Give it another couple of days," Ty advised. "You'll be ready for a decent meal by then!"

"I consider this a decent meal." She refused to be riled. "I already tried some of these in Halifax before I set off up here." To the listening cook, she added, "Not as good, though."

"Soft soap," Ty said low-toned as the little man turned away looking gratified.

"Tact," she responded equably. "Something you'd know little about "

She finished her coffee at the same moment that Jacques put the second loaded plate in front of his employer, pushing back her chair with a decisive movement.

"Right, let's get to it."

"Stop playing the martyr," came the curt comment from across the table. "Nobody expects you to get greased up in that sink. One of the men can dig in."

"I thought you said the men had all left?"

"There'll be somebody around."

"But that's not now, and I daresay Jacques had to start thinking about a midday meal."

He studied her for a long moment, eyes narrowed as if assessing her seriousness. Then he shrugged. "So go ahead, if you're so eager."

There didn't appear to be another apron available. She made do with a towel knotted about her waist instead. Jacques brought over fresh hot water from the stove and left her to it, not at all loathe to relinquish such a task.

Long before she came to the end of the pile of dirty pans she was regretting the impulsive offer. To get rid of the grease the water had to be as hot as she could bear it, and the combination had played havoc with her hands. She looked ruefully at her half stripped nails as she dried them, glad of the varnish remover she had brought with her. More than time she took it off, any-way. This was no kind of place for nail varnish.

Ty had vanished outside after he'd finished eating. He came back into the kitchen again now, lifting a sar­donic eyebrow in her direction.

"Happy?"

"Ecstatic." She fought the desire to hide her hands behind her back, and slid them into her pockets in-stead. "Any way I can get a hot bath?"

"If you're lucky there might be enough left in the tank for a warm one." He caught her eye and took on a re-signed look. "Okay, okay. You go and get your things, I'll see to it. It's next door to the bottom bunkhouse."

The little cook was as verbose in his gratitude for her help as he had been in his protests at the lack of it. Greer hoped he wouldn't expect it again after the next meal. Once was more than enough. She had been try­ing to pinpoint who he reminded her of all the time she had been working, without much success. It came to her as she crossed to the car. The singer, Charles Azna­vour: he had the same wrinkled, ageless face, the same sad expression in his over-large eyes.

The bathhouse held little in the way of modem re­finements. There was a row of battered enamel basins along one side and on the other a primitive shower ar­rangement consisting of a kind of trough to stand in and a length of pipe overhead pierced with holes at intervals. Water was hand-pumped from the nearby source into a big copper cistern suspended over a wood-burning stove, at present unlit, and from there to a smaller tank fitted on to the end of the shower pipe as required.

"You pull this when you're ready," 'Ty said, indicating a length of string hanging down from the bottom of the tank. "It lets water through into the pipe, closes it off again when you let it go. You'll soon get the hang of it. I'd get moving if I were you. It's barely lukewarm now."

Greer watched him to the door. "I suppose it's too much to expect a lock on that."

"You're right. Not much call for one." He paused to look back at her. "Anyway...."

"Anyway, keys are taboo in these parts," she finished for him. "Supposing somebody walks in on me?"

"They'll think Christmas came early." He lifted a mocking hand. "I'll be across the way when you're through."

The windows were too high up in the wall to be seen through from outside, which was some consolation. She slipped quickly out of her things, tucked her hair up under one of the disposable plastic shower caps she carried in the white bag and found some soap before stepping gingerly under the first set of shower holes.

The secret, she soon found, was to get thoroughly wet on the first pull, soap onself over when the water stopped, then release it again for a final rinse. No doubt in normal use there would be someone under each of the other outlets too, though only the first man could control it. She wondered if they did it to numbers.

Dressed again, she transferred what was left of the water into one of the basins and washed through the shirt she had taken off, using toilet soap in lieu of any-thing else. The reflection gazing back at her from the spotted mirror above the basin was anything but reas­suring. Was it really only three days since she had ar­rived in this country looking her normal well-groomed self? Wild was the only adjective one could fairly apply to her hair now. She fetched a brush from her bag and attempted to flatten it, but succeeded only in making it curl more vigorously about her face. Finally she contented herself by tying it back into the nape of her neck out of the way.

There was still no one about when she took her things back to the car. She hung both shirt and towel up to dry before going to look for Ty, coming across him eventually in one of the smaller buildings obviously in use as an office.

"Feeling better?" he queried, viewing her glowing skin with a satirical eye. "Decided to let nature take care of its own, have you."

"I didn't see much point in using cosmetics," she said with deliberation. "There's nobody I'm out to im­press."

"You brought them with you."

"Habit." She tried to make a joke of it. "I haven't faced the world without my face on since I took my first job."

"Your mother's influence?"

"Partly. She was always so beautifully groomed even first thing in the morning. She said one owed it to one-self if nobody else to look good."

"You don't need paint and powder to do that."

She cast him a swift glance. "That came close to be­ing a compliment!"

"Don't let it go to your head." He came to his feet, laying down the file he had been looking at. "Let's go and look at some trees."

What Greer had taken to be another small lake turned out to be a stretch of the river itself dammed off, a raft of logs already pressing against its partially blocked lower end like steers at a gate, ready for the next drive down to Mackinlay. When the winter freeze came all logs still on their way would pile up until spring. It was hard to imagine the kind of cold which cold ice over running water for months at a time.

They followed the river up to the present felling site, hearing the sounds of activity long before they reached it. The foreman came to greet them and was introduced as Grant Lundy out of Baxter. All the men in sight were wearing the white tin helmets Greer had always associated with mines. Ty fished a couple out of the back of the car and insisted she put one on before she got out, helping her pad it with a folded wad of paper when it proved over-large.

"Safety precautions," he said. "Wouldn't be much help if a tree fell on you, but there's a lot of falling debris when they're topping."

"How do they know which trees are ready for felling?" she asked, raising her voice to almost a shout as one of the power saws sprang to noisy life close by.

"They're marked with a code number first," Ty shouted back. "What we call cruising. Come on, I'll show you. And stick by me!"

There was a lot to see, and a whole lot to learn. Al. most every job was done under power, the noise at times deafening. Nothing was left to chance, the exact direction of fall controlled by the notch cut into the tree from the opposite side before felling. Greer watched one giant start to go, the movement barely perceptible at first, the slowly gathering momentum to topple be­tween its neighbours with a grinding crash. Hardly had the earth settled before the limbers were on it, strip-ping the long thick trunk of its remaining branches and marking it off into twelve-foot lengths for ease of trans­portation to the river.

She was surprised to find horses in use at this stage, drawing the logs along by chains attached to their har­ness down to the earth slide which dropped them into the water in spectacular fashion.

"Too difficult to get the right kind of machinery up here unless we had it brought in by helicopter," Ty advised when she queried it. "And too expensive. We wouldn't gain anything either. These boys can go where a machine couldn't." He glanced at his watch, looked back to her to add, "Hungry?"

"Starving!" She'd only just realised it, but she was. The morning had flown. "Do we go back to camp for lunch?"

"No, it comes out to us. The truck should be here any minute." His grin was fleeting. "Another of Frenchy's complaints."

"You shouldn't call him that. It sounds derogatory," she said on a light note, and saw the broad shoulders lift.

"He doesn't answer to anything else. Haven't you enough on your plate without being over-sensitive for others?"

"Oh, I don't know." She didn't look at him, gazing instead at the nearest pair of lumbermen. "I'd say I was coping all right."

"Up to now, maybe."

"You mean there's worse to come?"

"Depends on how you look at it." He sounded easy. "This fiancé of yours—he the jealous type?"

It took her a moment to adjust her thoughts. "Be-cause of you, you mean?" she said at length. "I doubt it. He knows me too well."

"I'd doubt that. He'd hardly know you at all now."

"Outward appearances are nothing to go by. Funda­mentally I haven't changed." It was no lie, she told herself. What was taking place inside her was not so much change as development—as if something lying dormant all her life had slowly started to awaken. Right at this moment she couldn't even find it in herself to dislike Ty any more. She turned to him impulsively, the words she had been about to speak dying on her lips before the hardness in his eyes.

"Fundamentally," he said, "your kind never do. There's the truck now. Let's get some food."

Her kind. That had hurt. She didn't want to be la-belled, not by Ty or anyone. But he was out to hurt, she reminded herself. Out to teach the heartless daughter of his former friend and partner that she couldn't have anything without paying for it in advance. They could never be anything but enemies, so why bother trying?

Lunch consisted of huge hot meat and potato pies eaten with the fingers. Greer found herself temporarily deserted when Ty went to talk with some of the men, and took the opportunity to join Grant Lundy who was also eating alone. Grant was a man in his fifties, tough and weather beaten, his grizzled hair almost vanished from the top of his head. A man of few words, she discovered, yet pleasant enough in his own way. She gleaned he had been with the Company for more than thirty years, man and boy, and had known her father well. Any criticism was implicit rather than spoken; an attitude she was beginning to find all too familiar. Put­ting her side of the story would do no good. She had already tried that with Ty, and look where it had got her.

Work started again promptly at one-thirty. Left to her own devices, Greer wandered off along one of the numerous tracks which criss-crossed the forest floor, not intending to go far yet soon losing track of time in watching out for wild-life. Birds were plentiful, and so were the squirrels, the latter already busy with their nut gathering against the approaching hibernation. Once she thought she caught a glimpse of a deer, but it was too far away to be certain.

Eventually she came down to the river bank, the swift flowing water an attraction in itself. At this point she could get right to the water's edge. Gazing across she could see movement just above the water line on the opposite bank. Yes, there was another. There must be a nest among the marshy reeds, though any young would long since have left. She began to follow the river back down toward the point where the men were working, intending to cut diagonally across the steep­ening side and come out on top again. The under-growth was dense enough to impede progress rather more than she had bargained for. It was something of a relief to come across a track leading roughly in the direction she wanted to go and a width sufficient to allow a couple her size to walk side by side. She wondered what could have made it. Deer, more than likely. From the direction it was going in it would come out at the river a little higher up from where she had seen the muskrats.

It wasn't until she found the second clump of black hair caught on the underbrush that an inkling of which animal might conceivably have made the trail began to penetrate, and even then she was inclined to shrug off the suggestion as unlikely. Already she could hear the sounds of the men at work filtering through the trees. No bear would stay within miles of such a source of danger.

Or would it? What did she know about bears at all, come to that? There were rock outcroppings enough in the vicinity to conceal a dozen caves, and if the men had only just moved into this particular section the ani­mal life could very well still be intact.

Not so very far ahead lay much more open ground. Greer hurried toward it, expecting any moment to hear enraged growls in her wake. When the figure ap­peared through the trees imagination turned it momentarily into a black roaring menace before her nerves calmed enough to allow her to see it for what it really was.

Ty was boiling over with the kind of anger reserved by the layer down of law and order for the breakers of it. He stopped when he saw her, thrusting the white helmet to the back of his head with a forceful gesture.

"Where the devil do you think you've been?" he demanded. "I've had men out looking for you for the last half hour!"

She was still too shaken to return belligerence with belligerence. "I didn't realise I'd been gone so long."

"You shouldn't have been gone at all. I told you to stick by me. Can't you do anything you're told?"

There was something of her normal spirit in her re-ply. "Certainly, when I'm given an adequate reason for doing it. You didn't tell me there might be any danger outside of falling trees."

"I didn't expect to have to. This isn't one of your British forests with acres of trees and little else. There's a species of wildcat around here that's been known to attack humans."

Just then Greer could appreciate his sentiments, but refrained from saying so. "I suppose," she said instead with careful scepticism, "you'll be telling me there are bears all over the place too."

He eyed her for a long moment as though weighing something up. "Only one that I know of in this particu­lar area," he said levelly. "An old male. Had its den in that bluff back there for years. He's the reason we call that stretch of river down where you just came from Bear Creek. You're lucky you didn't run into him." He registered her expression with a certain grim satisfaction. "Let's get back."

She accompanied him without another word, glad, though reluctant to admit it, of his presence. Whether he had been speaking the truth, or merely getting at her, she had no way of knowing, but it sounded plausi­ble enough, particularly when backed up by the evi­dence of the tufts of hair along the trail.

The others of the search party were back before them. Greer wryly weathered the resigned tolerance with which the whole episode was viewed and re-minded herself that for these men every minute of an all too short good season was precious if quotas were to be met. Half owner of the company she might be, greenhorn she certainly was and they weren't going to let her mistake it. She was in no way reluctant to accede to Ty's suggestion that they return to Talso ahead of the main party.

"Look, I really am sorry for causing so much trouble," she offered impulsively when they were on their way. "I didn't think about it."

"Okay." He ignored the opportunity she had left open for sarcastic comment. "Guess I blew my top a bit too far."

"Oh, a regular Vesuvius!" She caught his swift grin and felt herself relax. He wasn't really so bad when he tried.

"Do we stay at Talso tonight?" she queried after a moment or two.

"Unless you'd rather wrestle with the tent again." His tone was dry. "We can rig up a bed in the office." "Where will you sleep?"

"In the bunkhouse." He changed gear, glancing her way with mockery in the line of his mouth. "Satisfac­tory?"

"Quite," she said, refusing to rise to the taunt. "I sup. pose this will be something to tell my grandchildren one day." She could not control the urge which prompted her to add, "I wonder where you'll be by then."

The answer when it came was faintly edged. "I can tell you right now—here. I hope with grandchildren of my own."

She kept her voice light. "Will you tell them about the way you dragged me off into the forest—or will that be one of those details you keep from the woman you marry?"

"Depends on whether it ever comes up. It's unlikely to leave a lasting impression on either side."

He was wrong, she thought. Where she at least was concerned, he was wrong. Whatever happened she would remember this episode for the rest of her life.

CHAPTER FIVE

Greer was washed and changed when the men returned at sunset. Her scant wardrobe becoming distinctly mo­notonous, but there was little she could do about it. Dresses would have seemed out of place out here, in any case.

Supper was a huge communal meal eaten with great enthusiasm by the hungry lumberjacks. Greer sat at a table along with Ty and four others, the constraint af­forded by her presence soon wearing off once it was seen that Ty himself made no concessions to her sex. She enjoyed the talk, which was chiefly "shop." These men lived and breathed for lumber. Not just a job but a whole way of life.

Afterward there seemed little to do but sit around either talking or playing cards. It was possible to drive the thirty miles into Mackinlay and back within the night, but it appeared none bothered during the week, despite the fact that many of the men were married with wives down there. The younger single ones found Greer's presence more of a disturbance than any, per­haps because they too were a minority. Surrounded by no less than seven eager swains, she suppressed a stealthy yearning for the seclusion of the previous night and set herself out to entertain as best she was able.

It was after ten before Ty came to rescue her.

"Better show you where you're going to sleep," he said briefly. "I've had a camp bed put up in the office. About the best we can do considering. Should keep you warm, at any rate."

"Where are you going to sleep?" she asked on what she hoped was a casual note as they went outside, and received a derisive glance.

"Far enough away to make you feel safe, close enough to be in earshot if you need anything."

"If I did you'd be the last one I'd call on," she re­torted, and hurried on before he could find a reply to that. "Shall we be leaving herein the morning?"

"And deprive the boys of your company so soon?" He shook his head. "We'll give it another day. There's something I want to show you before we leave."

His tone had altered just a little on the last. Greer glanced at him curiously, assessing the strong cast of his features in the moonlight. "To do with the busi­ness?"

"Depends how you see it." They had reached the door of the little cabin used as an office. Ty pushed it open and stood aside for her to enter. "Sorry there's no light. It isn't normally used after dark. Think you can manage?"

"I expect so." She hesitated, not sure how to take her leave of this man she couldn't begin to understand. "If nothing else," she said at last, "I should be accus­tomed to making do by the time we get back"

"Sure you will." He was remote in a way she had not experienced in him before, as if he suddenly found the whole affair beneath contempt. "You'd better lie in till after the boys have left in the morning, then you can have the bathhouse to yourself again. See you." He as turning as he said it.

Greer went inside and shut the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment or two to ponder her own emotions. There was no denying she was attracted to Ty; it only took the increase in her pulse rate when-ever he came near her to underline that much. Out there just now she had longed for him to kiss her—longed for the reassuring strength of those arms of his about her. Reassuring? Surely that was hardly the word she could apply? Dangerous would be closer to the mark. For the first time in more than twenty-four hours she thought of Marcus, dismayed to find she could barely conjure up his features in her mind's eye. She had never felt quite this way over him, she ac­knowledged, but then theirs was not a relationship based purely on physical attraction. Theirs was a part­nership of mind as much, if indeed not more than body. They complemented one another. She hung on to that like a lifeline.

Surprisingly, she slept well, waking to a morning al-ready brightly into its stride. The camp was again de­serted when she emerged. She showered and dressed swiftly, then made her way across to the mess to find Ty had already eaten.

"You need more than coffee inside you," was his only comment on her request to the cook, but it needed no more than that to tell her she wasn't going anywhere until she had eaten when he deemed it nec­essary. There was no point in arguing. No point, and, oddly, no inclination. Let the whole thing ride for the present. There seemed less risk that way—though of what she didn't care to analyse.

They took the car when they did eventually leave, heading away from the river up toward the mountains. Neither of them had a great deal to say. Ty appeared preoccupied with his own thoughts. Gradually the trees thinned out as the track rose, bare rock taking over from earth. They skirted the edge of a deep wooded chasm and came to a halt on a wide ledge which gave a view of vast tracts of forest falling away below. Beyond, and far enough away to be seen in its entirety, lay Mackinlay, with arms stretching to three points of the compass.

"This was always Frank's favourite spot," Ty said after a minute or two. "Dad's too, when he was alive."

"And yours?" she ventured, and saw the broad shoulders lift.

"Maybe not in the same way. Guess I inherited more of the Frazer business sense than sensitivity. That's the company out there. All of it."

"Frazer's Kingdom," she suggested softly.

'"Patton's too, so long as it lasts." There was an odd inflection in his voice. "Still intent on selling?"

"I have to be." It took a lot of saying because she didn't want to break this mood, but it had to be said. "I can't let Marcus down now."

"Loyalty can be misguided," he came back brusque­ly. "Any man who asks a woman to do what you're thinking of doing deserves to be let down."

"Not if it's what she wants too."

"And is it?"

"Yes." She pushed open the door and got out, needing to be away from him. The ravine edge was only yards away. She went and stood almost on the edge of it, ignoring the spasm of vertigo that threatened to overtake her—or defying it; she wasn't sure which.

"Careful." He had followed her, was standing a foot or so behind her. "One false step and you're over." "I'm in no danger." She made no attempt to move.

"Only if I'm pushed."

Hands came roughly about her waist, lifting her bodily away from the edge and setting her down again with a jerk.

"Don't play your damn silly games with me," he said. "That isn't why I brought you up here."

"Isn't it?" She faced him squarely, hands in pockets

in a gesture unconsciously defiant and defensive at the same time. "Then why did you?"

"No reason you'd find important." Mouth twisting, he added, "Maybe you and this Marcus deserve one another."

"Maybe we'll get a chance to find out if you let us."

She paused, knowing that wasn't what she wanted to say, knowing also that it was all she could say. "Does it give you a sense of power to hold two people's lives in your hands this way?"

"More a sense of futility that you're willing to throw yourself and all this away on a guy like him."

"That sounds almost hopeful. Do I take it you're giving up?"

"Not yet." There was a firming of jaw and chin. "I'll make you see sense if it's the last thing I do!" "How?" she demanded. "By keeping me out here till I turn blue? All right, so I could have played fairer by my father. I never gave him a chance to explain his side, and I wish now that I had. But since I've gone that far what difference can it make? You said he wanted me to be happy—to have all the things I wanted with-out having to settle for what I could get." She drew in a small, shallow breath. "Well, Marcus is what I want. Marcus, and the kind of life he can provide me with."

The kind of life your money can provide you both with, you mean."

"I don't see that it matters which side it comes from if we're going to be married."

"That's the operative word, isn't it? If Try it my way first, if you dare."

"Put him to the test, you mean." Her lip curled. "I'd hate to think of the kind of trial a woman would have to undergo before she gained your trust!"

"It wouldn't be necessary."

"Meaning you're an overall better judge of character than I am, I suppose."

"Honey..." his tone was soft but not pleasantly so

...anybody would be a better judge than you. You never saw an inch beyond the end of your nose in your life!"

"I'm seeing it right now." Her own voice had a tremor in it, partly from anger, partly from something else she didn't want to go into. "Shall I tell you just what I'm seeing, Mr. Frazer?"

"Not unless you're willing to risk your neck," with a glitter of the green eyes. "I've felt like wringing it a time or two; never more than now!"

She stared at him, breathing hard, longing to voice the cutting phrases but daunted despite herself by the threatened retaliation. No doubt about which form that would take, and this time he would not be so easy to stop.

''We're achieving nothing like this," she said at last.

We may as well go on back."

"We'll go back when I'm ready to take you back,"

he said hardily. "And that's not yet awhile. Sit in the car if you've nothing better to do. I'm going farther up."

Helplessly she watched him stride away to disappear around a spur of rock, sensing the anger in his forceful movements. There was nothing else she could do but sit and wait. Even if he'd left the keys she was incapa­ble of turning the vehicle around in the width of track available.

It was too warm to sit in the car itself. Eventually, she found a convenient rock and perched on that, viewing the distances with unseeing eyes. Ty was right about one thing. Loyalty wasn't enough. If she'd had the depths of faith in Marcus that she'd declared, noth­ing would have shaken it, she had to admit that. Mar­cus had only asked her to marry him after he'd heard about the inheritance, not before, although there had been a tacit agreement between them to that effect for months. Or had there? Was that something only she had been taking for granted? She wasn't sure of any-thing anymore. Ty had shaken more than her faith, he'd undermined her whole confidence in herself as a person.

It was several moments before the thin trail of vapour rising from the treetops below impinged itself on her consciousness enough to bring her out of her reverie. That was smoke out there. Not a lot of it, true, but almost certainly too much for any normally controlled camp fire. The distance was difficult to calculate. One mile? Two?

Without thinking about it she was on her feet and heading for the car, leaning in to put a finger on the horn and keep it there. Ty might already have spotted the spiral and be on his way back, but she was taking no chances. Differences were forgotten in the rising tide of concern.

He came into view at a pace which slowed abruptly when he saw her standing there. Greer wasted no time in words, swinging around to point in the direction of the smoke, already increased in quantity from when she had first seen it. Ty didn't speak either. He came up quickly to the car and reached for the fieldglasses kept ready in a rack, adjusting them to the distance and holding them steady for bare seconds before bringing them down again.

"Take us about twenty minutes to get there," he said grimly. "Can't be far off the road, judging from the direction. Hop in and hold on. It's going to be a pretty rough ride down."

It was, not least in the turning. Greer closed her eyes as the rear wheels skidded on what felt like empty air, opening them again as they shot forward in the direc­tion they had come. Controlling the wheel with one hand, Ty reached out with the other to unhook a small handset she had not noticed before, flicking over the control button with his thumb.

"Smoke in east sector two miles down from ridge," he said rapidly into it. "Investigating. Over."

"Position noted," came the crackly reply. "Will stand by for report."

"Is it likely to be serious?" Greer queried, and was unaware of the anxiety in her voice until she felt him glance at her.

"There's a lot of dry underbrush out there. Any-thing's serious. Good thing you spotted it. Doubtful if the tower would have from that angle."

He didn't speak again, and neither did she, leaving him to concentrate on his driving. They could smell the smoke long before they reached the site, an acrid, wind-borne scent which stung the nostrils. As Ty had predicted, the area of actual fire was close by the rough trail, and so far confined to the brush and grass edging it, though starting to creep dangerously close to the nearest belt of trees. Even as they drew up with a screech of tires, Greer saw the little flames lick across another expanse of dry grass to run up the trunk of a young sapling like hungry red tongues, shrivelling it in seconds to a bare skeleton.

Ty grabbed blankets from out the back and shoved one of them into her hands. "Use your feet on the smaller patches," he yelled, demonstrating on the nearest. "And keep up wind of the flames. I'll work back from the top end."

It took the two of them a good twenty minutes to bring the fire under control, and it was twenty minutes of sheer exhausting effort at that. As fast as one patch was trodden or beaten out another seemed to spring into being, sometimes whole feet away from the first. When at last it was over they were left with a burned section extending some twenty yards in width and about ten deep, the ground blackened and scorched. But at least they had kept it out of the trees.

Ty was smoke-grimed and red-eyed, his shirt clinging to his back with sweat. Greer knew she could look little better and schooled herself not to care. They'd put the fire out, that was the main thing. It had been a close call.

"Campers," he said briefly, rising from his examina­tion of a small area in the centre of the clearing. "Made a fire here this morning, from the look of it, and left it smouldering. First good puff of wind, and up it goes!" He looked and sounded grim. "They can't have got far on foot—probably heading down across Bear Creek."

"What are you going to do?" she asked as he made for the car again.

"Have them picked up and escorted out. Folk like that aren't welcome around here."

"But you don't object to campers in principle?"

"Not if they're careful. It's the hunting season. Prac­tically impossible to keep them out." He made the call, rehung the handset, then stretched and rubbed ruefully at an aching shoulder. "You did a grand job there. Thanks."

"It's to my advantage as well, isn't it?" Greer could have bitten off her tongue the moment she'd said it, but it was out before she could stop it. "I never realised just how fast fire could travel," she tagged on, seeing his mouth tighten. "It was terrifying!"

"That was just a minor outbreak," he responded after a moment. "If it had caught the trees we'd really have been in trouble." He studied her with delibera­tion, the tension still there. "There's water in the back if you want to clean up a bit."

"Yes, I will, thanks." She moved to do it, glad of the excuse to get out from under that assessing gaze.

She had left the white case back at the camp, and with no mirror found it difficult to know where to rub. When she did finally turn around hoping for the best, Ty had stripped off his shirt and hung it over the open door to dry off while he strolled a short distance along the track to look at the timber lining it. His back was mahogany, the muscles ridged across his shoulders, biceps well developed and powerful without bulging out of proportion. A strong man, and a superbly fit one. It was doubtful if there was an ounce of superfluous flesh on the whole of that muscular body.

Greer stayed where she was until he came back again, seized by a need to look anywhere but at him when he did come up.

"I'm hungry," she said. "It must be getting on to-ward lunchtime. I forgot to wind my watch last night."

"It's just gone noon," he said without bothering to glance down at his own. "There's food in the car if you want it."

She looked at him then, eyes questioning. "You were planning on spending the whole day out?"

"Something like that. No point in hanging about camp." He shrugged when she made no move, and went around himself to get the box. "May as well eat right here. I'll take you on to the tower afterward to meet Ross Campbell."

"Any relation to the man who told you I was out at the Terry farm?" she asked, for something to say.

"His son. You'll find a lot of the folk around here are related one way or another.

"The gathering of the clans! Is everybody of Scottish descent?"

"I guess the majority must be. The whole district was colonised by immigrants originally. Makes no real difference. We're as Canadian as they come now." "I wouldn't argue with it."

"That makes a change." He indicated a shady spot on the far side of the track from the blackened area. "May as well make ourselves comfortable."

There was bread, cheese and two halves of a chicken in the box, along with beer and fruit to satisfy the thirst. Greer chose the latter, leaning back against the bole of the tree they were sitting under to bite into the crisp red apple. Ty was a foot or so away with his back toward her, head tipped to drain the can of beer. From here she could just make out the long line of a scar running across the naked brown shoulder nearest to her. She only just stopped herself from reaching out to touch her fingers to it.

"How did you get that?" she asked in the silence.

The reply carne easily enough. "Carelessness."

"Really?" Something in her prompted irony. "I wouldn't have thought you capable

of carelessness."

"I'm not now. It took this to drive the lesson home." He didn't look at her, but she could sense the curl of his lip. "The way you're going you're likely to finish up with a few scars of your own."

"Oh, please," she said wearily. "Can't we get off that tack for a while? You've never even met Marcus, so how can you judge him?"

"I'd like to meet him."

"With any luck you'll get the chance. I told you I'd sent a cable."

"And you're hoping that's going to bring him out here post haste." He swung his head to view her with an odd expression. "What exactly did you say to him?"

"That you were being difficult and I needed him."

He gave a short sharp laugh. "As protection against what—me or yourself?"

She stiffened. "I don't know what that means."

"Yes, you do. You've known from the start. We both have. If things had been different we could have done something about it. Under the circumstances...." He paused, shrugged. "That's life!"

Throat suddenly tight, Greer began to get to her feet. "You sit and talk in riddles if you want to. I'll sit in the car till you're ready to leave."

His movement toward her was swift, pulling her off balance and down into his arms. She saw the green eyes flecked with amber in the slanting sunlight, the pur­poseful line of his mouth. Then his head came down and he was kissing her long and hard, holding her to him with hands that hurt. She responded because she could do no other, not trying to think ahead, wanting this moment to go on into infinity. When he finally lifted his mouth from hers she made no attempt to move away from him, but buried her face against his bare chest, smelling the smoke still clinging to his skin.

Realisation of what she was doing and with whom came over her like a shock wave. She pushed herself jerkily away from him and sat upright, reaching with unsteady hands to smooth back the tumbled hair from her face. She couldn't look at him.

Ty was the first to speak, voice low and deliberate. "So now we both know what we're talking about. Rough, isn't it?"

"I think you may be getting things a little out of per­spective." Greer was hard put to keep her own voice level. "Just because I let you kiss me it doesn't neces­sarily mean what you're trying to make out. I was taken by surprise, that's all"

"Like hell you were." The pause was brief. "Look," he added firmly, "why not try being honest with your-self for once? We're two people physically in need of one another. There's nothing so unusual in that. If you weren't Frank's daughter there wouldn't be any prob­lem."

Her head lifted a little. "Aren't you forgetting my fiancé?"

"No," he said, "I wasn't forgetting him. But you sure did a moment ago. You were as ready for more as I was."

"But you, being a man of honour, saved me from myself." She was trembling inside but not about to show it. "I'll agree you're very practised."

"More so than you fiancé?"

"Oh, Marcus was never any monk, I can assure you. There are plenty of others who'd like to be in my shoes where he's concerned."

"I see. So it's just you he finds difficulty arousing."

"Not at all." She was fighting hard for the kind of control necessary to see this through with dignity. "But whereas you'd take advantage of it, he doesn't. It's as simple as that."

"You mean he respects you too much to let his feel­ings get the better of him."

"Yes. That's something you probably wouldn't un­derstand!"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that " His tone was deceptively mild. "If I were considering marrying a woman for her money I'd make darn sure I didn't upset the applecart either."

"He isn't marrying me for money!"

"Then prove it—or should I say, let him prove it." She said desperately, "I won't do that. And you can't make me."

"I can. And I will if I have to."

She stared at him in helpless silence for a long mo­ment, trying to read the expression behind the enig­matic gaze.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked at last. "It's my whole life you're messing up! Do you think that's what my father would have wanted?"

"No. But neither would he have wanted you wasting it on a man who doesn't love you."

"Love?" She brought the word out with scorching inflection. "What would you know about it!"

"Enough to be pretty sure your feelings for this Mar­cus character don't go very deep, either."

"Because I don't go to bed with him?"

"Because you don't even want to." He was taut with impatience. "For God's sake take the blinders off. You're a normal, fully aware female—we just proved that. You'd fight your inclinations if I tried to take you to bed because we don't have any other kind of feeling for one another and you're not the promiscuous type, but they'd be there right enough. By the same token you'd be pretty desperate for a man you were in love with, whether you did anything about it or not."

"What makes you so sure I'm not?" she demanded.

"Observation. At a rough guess, I'd say you were marrying him because he's the kind your mother would have wanted you to marry and telling yourself the rest isn't that important. Close?"

He was too close, but nothing would have persuaded her to admit to it. "Wrong. We don't all have to parade our feelings."

"True. But most of us give some hint." He studied her averted face, added on a newly hardened note, "All right, so we'll wait and see how the two of you greet each other if he does react to that cable the way you hope. If you can convince me there's more to this rela­tionship of yours than I'm thinking there is then I'll go along with what you want to do. Fair enough?"

She made a small movement of her shoulders which could have been construed as agreement. "Not that I can see why it should make any difference to you either way."

"I'm doing it for Frank," he came back brusquely. "I owe him. You might do something for him too." She looked at him. "What?"

"Stop putting temptation my way. I'm as human as the next guy when it comes to snapping up something that's thrown at my head."

Anger flared afresh, and was swiftly damped down. "Don't worry. Forewarned is forearmed. I'll make very sure you don't have opportunity to misconstrue any-thing else!"

They were in the car and moving off before the hurt finally seeped through the barriers she had imposed against it. No use trying to blind herself to it, she was in too deep. If only they could get out of this damned forest. Another few days in close proximity with Ty and he was going to start guessing just how far her feelings towards him had changed.

"Is there really any necessity to extend this trip now?" she asked at last, unable to stand the silence any longer. "If Marcus is coming he'll be in Mackinlay by tomorrow at the latest. I'd like to be there when he arrives."

It was a moment or two before he replied, and when he did it was not what she expected to hear. "We'll leave in the morning. Like you said, no point in staying on." His profile was lean and hard. "Probably never was much point in coming, except to get something out

of my system."

Out of his and into hers, she thought achingly. Well, time would cure that. Time was all she was going to have much of from now on.

CHAPTER SIX

It was barely nine o'clock when they reached the house after an uneventful drive down from Talso. In all hon­esty, Greer had not anticipated finding Marcus already waiting there for her. Nevertheless, the absence of any obvious sign of a visitor served to increase her depres­sion.

Ty led the way indoors, sending a cursory glance about the living room before disappearing along the corridor in the direction of the kitchen.

"There'll be hot water in half an hour or so," he said when he came back. "I'm going along to the mill right now. I'll clean up when I get back, and then we'll go into town and find out if your fiancé's been around. Get your things together as well. You can stay at the hotel tonight." There was irony in his tone. "Better late than never."

Left alone, Greer went through to the bedroom and took out a cream silk matching shirt and skirt from her still packed suitcase. Dressy for Mackinlay perhaps, but she was heartily sick of trousers and at least the silk was free of creases. She wondered if Marcus really would have responded to the urgency of her cable. She hoped so for his sake. If he failed to put in an appearance no power on earth was going to convince Ty that he cared for her. But of course he would have come. Even now he was probably sitting it out in Mackinlay wondering where she was. Who was to say he hadn't already been out to the house and found it empty?

She was bathed and dressed by the time Ty returned. He made no comment on the change in her appear­ance, but a muscle seemed to tauten in his jawline. He went through to the bathroom himself and she heard the sound of water running. The splash when he got in finalised the end of something.

It was only bare moments later that she heard the car coming along the track. When she went to the door, Marcus was in the act of alighting from it, fair head smooth and shining in the sunlight. He was wearing an expensively cut suede jacket she had not seen before, along with pale slacks and beige leather shoes. He paused when he saw her, the handsome, regular fea­tures assuming a certain speculation.

"What's been going on?" he demanded. "Where's Frazer?"

"Inside." She kept her voice low and even. "We just got back from a trip up to one of the lumber camps an hour or so ago. It's going to be all right, Marcus. He's agreed to sell."

Relief leapt in the light brown eyes. "You swung it, then. Good girl!" He had come up on to the veranda now, looking thoroughly out of place against the plain varnished timber and woodland setting. "From what that Terry chap said I expected the worst. I should have known you could handle him. You could handle any-thing you really set your mind to!"

Apart from her own emotions, she thought numbly.

She could hear Ty's footsteps inside the house. A little desperately she moved closer to her fiancé. "Marcus, aren't you going to kiss me?"

A smile curved his lips. "Sorry, darling, I should have done that first. Let me make up for it."

The arm he slid around her to draw her closer was too casual for what she needed. She put her own arms up and around his neck, meeting the kiss halfway with an urgency which stimulated its own response. There was a new element in his expression when they finally drew apart; surprise mingled with interest.

"Missed me, darling?" he said softly. "Let's do that again."

She laughed, said without turning her head, "You'd better meet my partner first. Ty Frazer—Marcus Brier­ly"

He was standing in the doorway behind them as she had known he would be, one hand propping the jamb. He moved forward now, a look on his face hard to de-cipher as he acknowledged the other's greeting.

"Come on in," he said. "Sorry we were late getting back. We've been taking a look at the business from all angles."

"So I understand." Marcus was smiling, but there was a certain narrowing of the light brown eyes as they went from one to the other of them. "Not really all that much point, I'd have thought, under the circum­stances, but no harm done." This time the arm he slid about Greer's waist was far from casual. "She's quite a girl, isn't she?"

"Quite." The tone was dry. "Like some coffee?" "I'll get it," Greer offered quickly, anxious to be out of this situation if only for a few minutes. "You two can talk while I'm gone." She put a hand on Marcus's sleeve and smiled at him with all the warmth she could muster. "I won't be long."

She could hear the rise and fall of their voices while she was out in the kitchen, Ty's the deeper of two yet also the quieter. There was a leaden lump inside her which would not disintegrate. It was strange and frightening to realise how much difference a few days could make. Marcus hadn't changed, but she had. He was a stranger to her, this man whose ring she wore. A stranger from another world.

Yet it was the world to which she belonged, she re- minded herself, and to live in it she needed a man like Marcus. Once all this was behind her she would soon forget. Of course she would forget. She had a full and interesting life waiting for her back home in England: a career as well as a marriage. Out here she had nothing.

There was tension still between the two men when she went through with the coffee. Ty was standing on the hearth, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his dark slacks, face unrevealing.

"It's been suggested that we stay over till the necessary papers are drawn up," Marcus announced. "That's going to mean the middle of next week before we can hope to get out of here. The alternative is to leave you

here to finalise the thing yourself."

"Or do it by post if you're both in a hurry to get back to civilisation," Ty put in dryly. "Take a great deal longer, of course."

"Yes, I know." Marcus chewed on his lip, looking at

Greer in obvious indecision. "How do you feel about it? Things are going to pile up a bit back there if I'm away too long, but...."

"I'd rather you stayed so we can go back together," she said without giving herself time to think about it. "It's only a few days."

"All right." There was some slight reluctance in the agreement, but along with it a certain gratification too. "I daresay it's better that way. You'll be staying at the hotel, of course?"

"Of course." She didn't look at Ty as she handed him the mug of coffee. "We'll get along there as soon as we've had this."

"I'll follow you in and take you down into Baxter after you've arranged a room," Ty said. "Might as well get things started right away. Legal matters tend to need pushing in these parts."

"Show me a place where they don't." Marcus had relaxed a little. "I understand there's some kind of dance on tomorrow night in Macklinlay?"

The other man inclined his head briefly. "There's always something special going on Saturday nights. Gives the boys a break from work. You might enjoy it for its novelty value."

"Will you be going?" Greer couldn't stop herself from asking.

"Everybody will be going. Wouldn't be much point in having community affairs if all the folk weren't community-minded. Ever done any square dancing?"

"No." Her chin lifted a fraction. "But I wouldn't mind trying."

"Well, you'll have to count me out. Not my style." Marcus sounded more amused than anything. "Wouldn't have thought it was yours either, darling."

"It isn't." Ty drained the mug of coffee and set it down on the stone mantle behind him. "Let's get mov­ing, shall we? I don't want to be all day down there."

They left some ten minutes later. Greer rode in the hired car with Marcus, Ty bringing up the rear in the estate wagon. She could see him in the right-hand wing mirror, one elbow jutting over the door edge, dark head held at an angle only too familiar. What his thoughts were regarding her and Marcus she had no way of knowing, but he was going along with the ar­rangement, so performance must have been up to scratch.

"He's not quite what I expected," Marcus said softly, as though he knew where her thoughts were. "Made quite an impression on you, hasn't he?"

She stiffened a moment, then as suddenly relaxed again. What did it matter? "He's different," she agreed. "But he would be, wouldn't he, living this kind of life."

"I expect so." There was a pause before he went on. "Look, I'm not going to start delving into just what goes on between the two of you. That's your affair."

"Is it?" She looked at him, studying the handsome profile with a sense of detachment. "I'd have thought my being your fiancée made it very much yours too."

His shrug was light. "That's an outdated viewpoint, and one I don't personally subscribe to. Being engaged doesn't give me any rights over your whole life. You're still your own mistress so far as what you do outside our relationship is concerned."

"That applying to you, too, of course."

"Well, naturally," with a slanting humorous smile. "What's sauce for the gander...." The shrug came again. "We're living in the twentieth century, sweet-heart. There's no room for petty restrictions. Just be. cause two people find it mutually convenient to live together it doesn't have to follow that they spend the rest of their lives in one another's pockets. All right, so you're attracted to that Canadian lumberjack back there. Nothing wrong in that. I daresay you'll be at­tracted to a whole lot of other men after we're married. The secret is to enjoy what we've got going for us to­gether and not ask too many questions about outside interests. You can't possess another human being."

But you could expect some fidelity from one you loved and who loved you, she thought with an odd lack of emotion. She tried to imagine Ty making a statement like the one Marcus had just made, and found it impossible. Any woman he married would be-long to him and to him only, and woe betide any de­viation on her part. Yet would she personally want to be owned that way? Wonderful at first, perhaps, but who was to say how one would feel after years of it. Environment had to play some part too. Out here a woman's life would be wrapped up in her family, not her career. Marcus didn't want children; she already knew that. What she wanted herself she was no longer sure. She hadn't been sure since her arriving here at Mackinlay.

The hotel clerk on duty at the desk greeted Marcus by name and Greer with unashamed curiosity. By now everyone must know where she had spent the last few days, and with whom. She was allocated a spartan little room a couple of doors down from her fiancé's, and took the opportunity to unpack a few of her things before going back downstairs to join the two men, ignor­ing Ty's obvious impatience at being kept waiting.

Out at the car, she pressured Marcus into riding in front by stating her desire to stretch out for the dura­tion of the journey. How Ty was likely to interpret the gesture she didn't know and didn't greatly care. From now on she would let matters take their own course. She had done all the play-acting she was going to do where she and Marcus were concerned.

Seated, the two men looked much the same height, but there any resemblance ended. Marcus had the slim, elegant build which looked so good in tailored, modern clothing, his hair shaped to make the best of his excellent features. Beside him Ty seemed bigger than ever, shoulders wide beneath the lumberjacket, hair styled for ease of management rather than up-to-date appeal.

She wanted, badly, to touch him; to slide her arms over his shoulders and press her face into the curve of his neck; to feel his hands come up and pull her around to him. Impractical anyway, while he was driving, but emotive to dream about. No matter how suited they were in other ways, Marcus could never make her feel the same depth of longing Ty had aroused in her, and she might as well face it. She didn't love him, she loved Ty, regardless of everything the latter had said and done these few days of their acquaintance. Most of it she had asked for, if she were honest with herself, and none of it changed what he basically was—a man true to his ideals. To be loved by a man like that—really loved, not just wanted—must be a wonderful experi­ence, but it wasn't for her, even if she had the chance.

He demanded too much in return. Like her father before him.

Gordon Terry was on his way out of town as they ap­proached it. He stopped the car when he saw them corn­ing, getting out as Ty slowed to draw up beside him.

"Was just on my way up to your place," he said, looking faintly uncomfortable. "Mom's been a bit con­cerned about Greer since you took her off the place like you did. Said I should have come up with you yesterday," nodding to Marcus. "I told her you'd sort things out yourself"

"Nothing to sort out," returned the other equably, and turned his head to give Greer a humorous lift of his brows. "You've been well taken care of, haven't you, darling?"

"Perfectly, thanks." Her smile was too bright, her eyes held Ty's through the driving mirror. "I've learned a lot."

"Not enough to stop her selling out," said Ty speak­ing for the first time. He was addressing Gordon, but the edge was for her. "We're on our way to take care of it now."

"I see." Gordon looked nonplussed for a moment, then rallied. "Well then, how about coming on out to the farm for a meal after you've finished?"

"And sit through all your mother's going to have to say?" Ty grinned briefly and shook his head. "I'll wait till she's forgotten my last visit!"

"I'd like to come," Greer put in from the back, "I'd like to see your mother again, Gordon." To Ty she add­ed coolly, "You can always wait for us in town if you're so set against it."

"I'll be heading back to Mackinlay right after we get through with the lawyer," he responded without mov­ing. "If you go you find your own way back."

"I'll bring them," Gordon offered before anyone else could say anything. "I'll come back to town with you now and wait till you're through with Jake Stone."

"Suit yourself." The reply was disinterested. Ty put the car into motion again without waiting for the other to reach his own vehicle.

"I'm not sure I'm all that keen on visiting the Terry place again," Marcus said casually after a moment or two. "Nice enough people, but I was out there long enough last night over a meal."

"In which case it won't hurt you to show a little ap­preciation again today," Greer came back. "Unless you'd rather leave me to go back on my own? I'm sure Ty won't mind running you back to Mackinlay with him—I can rely on Gordon to get me back."

"All right, you made your point." Marcus gave Ty a tolerant, man-to-man glance. "Women!"

A shrug was his only response. Greer had a feeling that he was sick to death of the two of them. It hurt, but she could hardly blame him. The whole situation was fast beginning to sicken her too. She would be infi­nitely glad when it was over.

Elderly, overweight and wearing a tweed suit which had seen far better days, Jake Stone seemed the very epitome of the small town lawyer Greer had so often seen portrayed in films. His reaction to Ty's explana­tion of why they were there showed little professional restraint, however.

"Young woman, you need your head examined!" he stated bluntly. "You sure you know what you're do­ing?"

"She knows." Marcus said it quietly but with em­phasis, drawing the older man's glance.

"Mind me asking who you are?"

"Miss Patton's fiancé. Also her financial adviser." He was on home ground now, the easy tolerance slip-ping from him to be replaced by businesslike sharp­ness. "How long is this going to take?"

The lawyer looked across at Ty and seemed some-what at a loss as to what to make of the latter's ex­pressionless attitude. "Can't be done overnight," he murmured at length. "Have to prepare documents ready for signature. Luckily I've got all the relevant paper work to hand—at least, I think so."

"You should have. It's only a couple of weeks since you finalised the will." There was a pause before Mar­cus added, "Incidentally, there's a point or two I'd like to go over regarding transfer of the initial fifty thou-sand. Oh, all quite legal, I assure you," catching the quick flash of suspicion in the shrewd old eyes. "I never move outside the law, simply find ways around it."

Greer got up and strolled over to the window as though quite content to leave the men to arrange her life. Standing there looking down at the dusty street, she wondered how they would all react if she turned around right now and said she had changed her mind. Marcus was easiest to assess. He would be devastated, dismayed, disbelieving; though not necessarily in that order. Jake Stone would no doubt be relieved that good

sense had prevailed, despite his loss of a fat fee. Which left Ty. Impossible to guess just which way he would jump over anything, even though he had spent the last few days trying to persuade her to change her mind. Not that she was going to, of course. She had come too far for that.

She was glad when they were all outside in the sun-shine again with instructions to come back on the Mon-day. That was the worst part over. Just the weekend to get through, and then she could put this whole affair behind her for good. Marcus was going to have to allow her to take a little more of the load off his shoulders once they did get back. She was going to need her mind fully occupied.

Gordon had his car parked behind Ty's outside the office.

"Sure you won't change you mind" he asked.

"Not this time, thanks." Ty nodded brusquely to the other two. "See you at the shindig tomorrow, if not before."

This time it was Greer who sat up front with the driver. Gordon waited until they were out of town and heading for the farm before saying tentatively, "Hope I didn't put my foot in anything back there. It's not ex­actly the kind of situation I'm used to."

It wasn't the kind of situation anyone was used to, she thought dryly. Although Marcus had weathered the whole thing pretty well.

"No," she said, "of course not. Ty's just peeved be-cause he couldn't get me to see things his way, that's all."

"Deprived," put in a voice from the rear without rancour. "Understandable, of course. I'd feel the same."

It was obvious from his expression that Gordon didn't fully comprehend the nuances, for which Greer was thankful. Marcus was taking this tolerance thing too far. It was starting to suggest indifference.

Beth Terry met them at the farmhouse door, face warm in welcome.

"Glad to have you both back together," she said. "I'll save what I've got to say to Ty for another time." To her son she added, "I've got young Di inside. She wants to know if you'll go up and have a look at their lighting plant. It's been acting up again."

"I saw the car out front." Gordon sounded a bit off-hand. "I'll call in coming back from Mackinlay later on."

The girl was in the big kitchen, dressed almost identi­cally to the way Greer had last seen her. The pretty, pi-quant face flushed a little as her eyes met Greer's, as though the sight of her alone recalled all the hurt and humiliation of Ty's dismissal. Then she saw Marcus be-hind her and her whole attitude underwent an immedi­ate and definite change. Seeing it happen, Greer wanted to smile. Wonderful what an effect those looks of his could have on a supposedly broken heart!

Marcus, being Marcus, wasn't slow to recognise the symptoms either—nor, having recognised them, to cement them firmly into place. His response to the intro­duction performed casually by Beth Terry put colour of a different nature in the girl's cheeks, and a sparkle in the blue eyes. It was apparent that nobody she knew had ever paid her quite this kind of attention before.

It came as no surprise to anyone when she accepted Beth's invitation to stay for lunch. Marcus sat beside her at the table, drawing out her natural flirtatiousness with an amused deliberation that made Greer want to hit him. But that was Marcus, wasn't it—no more able to turn away from a pretty face than a moth from a candle flame until he'd exhausted all possibilities. He always had been like that, he always would be like that; he'd even warned her about it. But this girl was another matter. She was taking it all in; even to the point of casting the frequent glance of triumph across the table in Greer's direction as if to underline her conquest. Beth Terry had the good sense to ignore the by-play, but it was apparent that her son didn't like what was going on.

"Di's too young and too full of herself to know when she's being played with," he said bluntly when he man-aged to get Greer on her own for a moment or two after they'd finished eating. "Can't you stop that man of yours paying her so much attention?"

"I could try, but he'd probably only laugh," she ad­mitted wryly. "I'm sorry, Gordon. It's just the way he is."

"With all other women?" There was a curious note in his voice.

"All the nice-looking ones, anyway." She made her-self smile. "It doesn't mean anything."

"You don't mind?"

"No." That was the truth, at least. Marcus couldn't make her jealous because she didn't feel enough for him. Now if that had been Ty in there.... But it wouldn't have been, would it? Ty didn't play those sort of games. She had called him a swine for dispatching Diane the way he had, but he'd been cruel to be kind. Marcus was cruel without even knowing it—or worse still, knowing it and not even caring.

"Will you be coming up to Mackinlay for the dance tomorrow night?" she asked with an eye on the two horses he had ostensibly brought her out to see.

"Could be. Depends how things go." He lifted a foot to the bottom rail of the paddock fence and rested his arms along the top. "You might fmd it a bit rough and ready."

"If you mean informal I'm expecting to. Where do they hold it?"

"In the church hall this time of year. Earlier it's an open-air affair down by the lake."

"That sounds fun."

"Usually is. More going off down here in Baxter, of course. We have a film show three times a week, plus a regular dance on Saturday. Then there's the horse rac­ing. Had two wins myself on Grey Streak over there this year," he added modestly.

Greer was interested. "You have a track?"

"No, we run a set course up round Cherry Creek and back. Two dollar entry fee, the winner takes the pot. When the snow comes we switch to sled racing."

She said slowly, "Mackinlay gets cut off, doesn't it?"

"Not for long. Everybody turns out to get the road open after a bad fall." He laughed. "Never known Ty to fail to get through yet if he was really set on it. Skis in if there's no other way." There was a lengthy pause and a change of tone. "None of my business, maybe,

but your father would turn in his grave if he knew what you're doing with his half of the Company."

It isn't his half now, it's mine, she wanted to say, only the words stuck in her throat. "I need the money," she said instead. "Don't think too badly of me, Gordon. I know how much he loved this life." She straightened abruptly. "We ought to be thinking of leaving if you're going to make that call at the Ford farm on your way back. Don't they have anyone closer they can turn to for help?"

"No reason why they should. Tom and I grew up together. We've always helped one another out."

"So you've known Diane all her life too," she said casually as they turned back towards the house. "She's a very attractive girl."

"She's a bit of a handful as well," came the wry response. "Tom's had the devil of a job keeping tabs on her these past few weeks. Suppose she's old enough now to start being responsible for herself, only she still seems just a kid in a lot of ways." He paused. "Mom told me what you said about Ty showing her the door. That's a step in the right direction, at least. She's followed him around like a moon-eyed calf for years!"

"And Marcus won't be around long enough to do any real damage." Her tone was light. "We'll be leav­ing early next week."

"I know." He didn't look at her. "We'll miss you." "On the basis of a couple of visits?" she queried with a laugh.

"Some people just seem to fit right away. That first time you saw Mackinlay from up there on the pass, you looked as though you'd come home. Seems I was wrong."

"Yes." She could think of nothing more to say.

Marcus was talking with Diane out on the porch. The charm hadn't slipped, but he seemed more than ready when Greer announced their departure.

"Why don't you call in home with Gordon and meet Tom, my brother?" Di suggested eagerly. "7 have to make a call in town first, but I wouldn't be long behind you."

It was Gordon who saved them the trouble of finding an adequate excuse. "Better if I dropped them off in Mackinlay first, then come back via your place," he said. "I'll need to be back here for milking. Get Tom to come in to the dance tomorrow and they can meet up then."

"And save me the first non-square one," Marcus adjured.

Beth Terry was open in her feelings. "I don't think you're doing the right thing," she said. "This isn't what your father intended. But I expect you have to do as you think fit. Try to pop out and see us again before you leave."

Greer promised she would and went out to the car feeling subdued and unhappy. Marcus studied her thoughtfully but made no comment. He didn't under-stand, couldn't be expected to understand, the conflict inside her. It was something she had to fight alone.

They reached Mackinlay in little more than half an hour. Gordon dropped them off at the hotel and went off to keep his appointment at the Ford farm. Inside, Greer looked vaguely round the unpretentious lobby and wondered what on earth they were going to find to do for the next few days. Marcus was not a man for making his own entertainment. He liked it all laid on for him. They had lived a hectic social We during the time they had known one another; a very tiring one at times, she recalled although he had never seemed af­fected.

"I think I'll go and change," she said hesitantly. "What are you going to do?"

His shrug was resigned. "Short of following suit I can't imagine. More to the point, what do we do with ourselves after dark?"

She glanced at him obliquely. "There's sure to be something going on."

"Oh, sure to be." He added with smiling delibera­tion, "And if there isn't we'll just have to make our own entertainment, won't we?"

They ate at seven in the hotel dining-room. The food was plain and not badly cooked. Apart from themselves the room was empty, which wasn't surprising consider­ing they were the only guests staying there at present.

Marcus was the first to move after they'd finished eating.

"Let's get out of here," he said. "It's like being in a morgue!"

There were few people abroad on the main street, and little sign of organised activity apart from the sound of a piano being played somewhere not too far away. Greer guessed that most of the socialising during the working week was done in the privacy of people's homes, although both saloons were open and doing business. She was intrigued to note a horse tied up outside one of them along with a couple of parked cars.

It was Marcus who suggested a drive round the lake to take a look at the sawmill, disregarding Greer's pro-tests that it wouldn't be working.

"It's somewhere to go," he said. "And you still own half of it till you sign those deeds of sale. Frazer can't object."

"I don't expect he would anyway," she responded levelly. "They don't go in for any of this `trespassers will be prosecuted' hierarchy around here. All right, if that's what you want to do."

"More a case of the only thing left to do. Unless you'd prefer an early night?"

She laughed. "Not this early. You realise there won't be any lights?"

"So we'll take along a load of carrots. It's the objec­tive I need, not a detailed examination."

The drive out was uneventful. No other car passed them and they saw no sign of human life once they'd left the straggling outskirts of the little town. The turn-off which led down to the house where she had been born brought Greer a renewal of heartache. The trees hid any lights, but she was fairly certain Ty would be there. She wondered what he would be doing right now. Reading perhaps, or listening to the radio. Yet why take it for granted that he would be alone? Diane's had not been the female companionship to which he'd been referring that time, that seemed certain, but there were others available. To a man like Ty Frazer there would always be others available. The idea came to her as they were coming up to the second turn-off down toward the lakeside. She acted on it impulsively.

"Take this next left turn, will you?" she said. "There's something I'd like to see."

Marcus did so without question, muttering some-thing under his breath as the Ford's wheels bounced over an encroaching tree root.

"I'll never grouse about our road system again," he said. "There's a lot to be said for tarmac."

The house this time seemed farther down because of the way the main roadway had curved off from the lake. When it did come into view it looked much the same as its partner, except for its lack of curtains and other signs of habitation. The moon was up and casting light enough to see that the place had been kept in good repair, at least on the outside. There was a jetty here too. Marcus turned the car in a semi-circle close by the end of it, bringing it to a halt with its bonnet side on to the house.

"Going in?" he asked curiously.

Greer shook her head. "I only wanted to see what it was like. This is the old Frazer house. They must have been built as a pair."

"Not much use to him now, unless he likes a switch now and then." Marcus took out cigarettes. "Want one?"

"No, thanks." She added, "We can go on to the mill now if you like."

"May as well stay here for a while. It's pleasant enough." He put down the windows, leaning an elbow to gaze over the moon-shimmered water to the distant backdrop of hills. "I'll say one thing, the scenery out here takes some beating—providing you like trees, that is."

"And do you?"

"For a limited period. Like a lot of other things they soon begin to pall in surfeit." The smile he turned on her was assessing. "Talking of inanimate objects..."

"I thought you wanted a cigarette," she said hur­riedly.

"Not if you're not smoking." He glanced at the case still in his hand, and slid it back into an inside pocket before reaching out to pull her gently toward him. "I can think of far more inspiring ways of passing the time."

Greer did her best to respond satisfactorily to his kiss. She didn't find it unpleasant; she never had. What it failed to do was stir her emotions in any way. From the look on his face when he sat back, Marcus recog­nised that failure too.

"What happened to this morning's enthusiasm?" he queried. "Or wasn't that for my benefit after all?"

She bit her lip, turning her face away. "Sorry if I don't come up to scratch. I'm tired."

His smile derided. "Don't take me for an idiot, dar­ling. I've kissed enough women in my time to know when I'm not getting through. Still hankering after Frazer, aren't we?"

"It wasn't like that!"

"No? Which way was it, then? You're trying to make out he never touched you?" He shook his head. "I've seen the two of you together, remember. I'm capable of registering that kind of spark. You lit one in me this morning."

"Marcus," her voice was quiet and low, "why did you ask me to marry you? Because of the money?"

His hesitation was brief. He smiled and shrugged. "I'd be a liar if I tried to make out that didn't have something to do with it. Up to then I'd only been tinkering with the idea. A wife who knew the ins and outs of the business seemed something of an asset."

"But there were drawbacks."

"Well, yes, there were. The same ones we seem to be experiencing now. You've never let yourself go with me—not, that is, until this morning. I thought maybe Frazer had shown you what you were missing."

"And you wouldn't have minded?"

The pause was lengthy. He appeared to be thinking. "All right," he said at last on a different note, "so I'd have minded. That's not to say I'm going back on any-thing I said this morning. You can't own anybody."

Greer's smile was wry. "I think you mean you can't expect to demand fidelity if you're not prepared to make the same promise. Very fair-minded of you!"

"Better than being hypocritical about it like the ma­jority. There's not one man in a thousand really intends to forsake all others, if he gets the opportunity not to."

"I'm sure you're wrong, only there's no way of prov­ing it."

"Statistics would bear me out "

"The practice, perhaps, not the intent. And statisti­cally speaking, there must be as many marriages broken up by women going off with other men, so why not say we none of us take the marriage vows seriously."

"Well, do we?"

"I do." She said it with firmness. "I refuse to go into it with the idea that we both do exactly as we please regardless."

"Is that an ultimatum?"

"I don't know." She was suddenly deflated. "It's all so clinical, Marcus. You marrying me for money, and me...." She broke off a little helplessly.

"Because I suit your book," he finished for her with a flat intonation. "A bit more to it than that, I'd haw said, but basically correct. We're not in love, but we already knew that."

"I didn't." The protest was instinctive, lifting his brows.

"You thought you loved me?"

"Yes." She paused, gave a small sigh. "I thought I might learn to. Now I know better. I can't love a man who thinks the way you do."

"You mean honesty doesn't pay." His head was turned, profile etched in finely chiselled relief against the night sky. "I suppose I could swear to turn over a new leaf and become a model husband, only I know it wouldn't last. So it's back to the drawing board?"

"Not entirely." Greer was conscious of mingled emotions concerning the decisions they appeared to have reached. "Even if we don't get married I can still loan you the fifty thousand on a business basis."

He looked at her then, expression uncertain. "You'd still be going through with it?"

"It's gone too far to back out now. Anyway, I wouldn't want to. There's no reason for me to stay tied to this place."

"No reason at all," he agreed softly. "You could no more live this kind of life than your mother could." Alone, perhaps not. With Ty.... She caught herself up with a sigh. That was something she was never likely to know.

"Do you still want to go to the mill?" she asked.

"Not particularly. We'll get back." His tone acquired a certain dryness. "I do take it we're no longer engaged?"

The fingers twisting the diamond ring were stilled. "I'd rather nobody else here knew," she said after a moment. "Mind if I keep this on till after we leave?"

"I don't mind what you do with it. Wear it, sell it—bury it, if you like. I certainly shan't want it back."

She cast him a quick glance as he put the car into motion again. There was an air about him of buoyancy amounting almost to relief. Poor Marcus! She knew he was fond of her, but the thought of actually taking on a wife had obviously been weighing heavily on him. Yet if he hadn't asked her to marry him would she have even considered selling out her shares this way? She didn't know the answer to that one. It might have changed so many things.

CHAPTER SEVEN

If the night had seemed long the day was infinitely more so. Dragging through an interminable morning, Greer could only compare it with the hours she had spent in Ty's company out there in the forest. What-ever her feelings, boredom had not been among them.

At her suggestion they went down to Baxter for lunch, and spent the rest of the afternoon watching the races run just outside the town. Gordon rode Grey Streak in the third race, but only managed to come in second. He grinned and shrugged when they went over to commiserate with him.

"That's the way it goes. She's lost the edge she had earlier on in the year. You come in with Ty?"

"No." It was Greer who answered, trying desper­ately not to betray the eagerness in her voice. "Is he here?"

"Saw him a bit ago with Renée Campbell. Thought you might have made up a foursome."

"Campbell?" It took everything she had to keep the question suitably light.

"Old Matt Campbell's youngest. Her brother Joe works for the Company. Rumour has it there might be wedding bells there before too long." He lifted a hand

suddenly and waved to someone beyond. "There they are now. Hope Ty didn't have anything on me."

Greer steeled herself to turn around casually as the newcomers joined them. Renée was perhaps a couple of years her senior, a dark-haired, attractive young woman with a warm, friendly attitude.

"I was hoping we'd meet up before you left," she said. "Ty tells me you can't be persuaded to change your mind."

Grey eyes met green and as quickly flicked away again. "I'm afraid not."

"That's a pity. There've been Pattons here as far back as anybody can remember. Still, you'll be chang­ing names anyway," with a smile toward Marcus. "When's the wedding to be?"

"Next month," returned the latter without hesita­tion. "Pity you can't all be there."

"We'll send a good luck telegram," Ty said with irony. "I promised your father a game of chess this af­ternoon, Renée. If we don't go now there isn't going to be time."

"Right." She added impulsively to Greer, "Hope to see you at the dance tonight. In fact, we could call in at the hotel for them, couldn't we, Ty? Better than trot­ting along on their own."

"Why not?" He sounded disinterested. "Make it eightish."

Marcus waited until they were in the car and heading back to Mackinlay before saying it.

"You didn't know there was a regular in the offing, then?"

"No." Greer's tone was short. "Not that I see what difference it makes."

"I think it might remove the last lingering doubt about leaving," he said with deliberation, and had the wisdom to leave it there.

Greer chose a full cotton skirt in emerald green with a simple white top as the only items in her wardrobe likely to suit the evening's atmosphere. Marcus wore slacks, and an open-necked shirt complete with cravat, which constituted his idea of casual apparel. They went downstairs together on the hour, to find the others al-ready waiting. Ty wore freshly laundered jeans and a check shirt with a kerchief tied pirate fashion about his throat. Renée, Greer was thankful to see, was dressed pretty much as she was herself.

They walked from the hotel to the church hall, the latter brightly lit and resounding with music from within. There was a man on the door to take their money and issue tickets.

"Good crowd tonight," he said.'Boys came in from Talso half an hour ago."

A caller was in full swing to the foot-tapping tune when they got inside, naming the steps for the dancers out on the floor with colourful rhythm. There were or­dinary wooden chairs spaced along the walls for those who preferred to sit and watch, and at the far end of the hall a long table groaning with the weight of food spread over its surface.

"The women do all that," Renée said. "Everybody contributes something. I made chocolate cake— brought it up this morning. With any luck it will be gone before we eat."

"She's being modest," Ty asserted dryly. "The Campbell women are all superb cooks."

"You should get together with Greer," Marcus put in. "She does the best boeuf enroule I've tasted."

Renée caught Greer's eye and wrinkled her nose. "You'd think those were our only assets, to hear men talk! l understand you hold down a very responsible job too?" She didn't wait for an answer, whipping her head around as the caller announced the next number. "Oh, this is a simple one! Ty, you take Greer and I'll take Marcus."

"I can't do this stuff," protested Marcus in some mild alarm, but he went unheeded, drawn along in her wake on to the floor.

"Want to try it?" Ty asked. "It isn't difficult."

Greer nodded without looking at him. "Please."

He swung her out on to the floor and in among the nearest group, placing her to the centre with one hand warm on her waist. The steps, as Renée had said, were simple enough, and repetitive. She began to enjoy her-self, responding to the friendly acceptance of those around her.

"That was great!" she exclaimed with enthusiasm when the set finished, forgetting her reticence. "I never thought I'd find myself actually square dancing!"

"It's all experience." Ty lifted an eyebrow inquir­ingly as a waltz was announced. "Feel like doing this one too?"

Renée and Marcus showed no sign of leaving the floor. They were standing very close, laughing together over something. Greer found a smile, said brightly, "Why not?"

Held closer to the broad chest she could feel the ten­sion building up in her. She wished she could relax, be easy and natural with him, but circumstances did not allow for it. If things had worked out differently she might have been an integral part of this community; might already have had a husband and family of her own. Instead she was giving up not only her inheritance but every possible link with a way of life she found increasingly more attractive. Marcus had called her a city girl, but she wasn't. Not really. She had never fitted their circles the way he did. She didn't want to go back, she acknowledged on an edge of desperation. Yet she had nothing to stay for.

"If you're not planning anything tomorrow," Ty said quietly close to her ear, "Jean suggested the two of you spend the day at their place."

"Jean?" she queried.

"Renée's mother." The pause was brief but expec­tant. "Well?"

"I— We'd like to, I'm sure." She wanted to ask if he would be there as well, only the question wouldn't come. It seemed likely if he and Renée were so close. "Will Ross be home?" she said instead.

"No, he's on duty this weekend. Still quite a house­ful, though. There's another daughter and two more sons. We tend to go in for larger families in these parts. There's a lot of it to populate, as old Matt would say."

"Everyone I've heard mention his name seems to use that prefix. Is he so old?"

"Eighty-six last birthday. Married a girl twenty years junior when he was forty—always swears that kept him younger. I warn you, he's quite a character." Irony crept back into his voice. "But I daresay you'll keep your end up."

"I'll try." Impulse drew the words from her before she had time to consider. "Ty, need we be enemies over this business? I couldn't have contributed a great deal to any working relationship anyway."

"You didn't try," he said. "You came out here with one purpose in mind." His tone hardened. "Well, all right, so you got your own way. Only don't expect me to feel happy about it, because I don't, and shan't."

Then go back on your word, she thought wildly. Tell me you won't buy. Tell me anything, but don't tell me to go through with it!

Aloud she said calmly, "Then why did you agree?" "Mainly because I had no intention of letting your forty-two per cent find its way into other hands." "I wouldn't have done that!"

"Your fiancé seemed to have other ideas."

She remembered those moments of Friday morning when she had left the two men alone while she made coffee; the atmosphere which had greeted her on her return to the room. Not satisfied with her assurance that all was well, Marcus had obviously seen fit to make doubly sure.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Really I am. Marcus is a businessman. He believes in reinforcements. That's not to say I'd have gone along with it."

He was looking down at her with an odd expression. "Does it matter now?"

"I want you to believe me," she insisted, beyond Bar­ing what he might make of her attitude. "Do you really think I'd have gone along with that sort of scheme?"

"Why not? You've gone along with everything else he's suggested. For the record, I don't believe it would have entered your head to do any of this off your own initiative." He waited for her denial, lips twisting when it failed to come. "You'd do anything he asked rather than risk ruining the future you've got mapped out. Okay, if you want it that badly, have it. Just don't ask me to wish you luck."

The music stopped. They went off the Boor in si­lence. Short of telling him the engagement was off there was nothing more she could say to convince him. So why not tell him? Why let him go on thinking of her as being led by the nose by Marcus?

The answer was obvious. She stood to gain nothing. Let him think what he liked. At least that way she stood no chance of having him guess how radical a change her feeling toward him had undergone these last few days.

The evening wore on. Diane Ford put in an appear­ance, trailing a stocky young man in his mid-twenties who bore a distinct family resemblance. She gave T a cursory hello, ignored Greer, and concentrated all her attention on Marcus with a single-mindedness only the latter found in any way amusing.

"Not my fault the kid's so impressionable," he said when Greer took advantage of the first opportunity to remonstrate with him for encouraging her. His smile went crooked. "Sure you're not being a bit dog-in-the ­manger about it yourself?"

"Quite sure," she said, trying to keep her patience. "But so far as everyone here is concerned we're still engaged, which makes me feel partially responsible for your behaviour. Don't play her along any more, Mar­cus. Please. It's as much in your interest as in hers."

"How mine?"

"Ty knows why I want this money he's giving me, and he's only agreed to it because he thinks I'm too besotted with you to be straightened out. If he has any idea that the engagement is off he might just think it worth while trying again."

"Meaning if I don't stop playing up to young Di you'll tell him."

"I might." She had no intention, but he wasn't to know that. She studied the handsome features dispas­sionately, wondering why it was she had never allowed herself to acknowledge the selfish streak in him before. "I know you could probably raise the money elsewhere if you had to, only it wouldn't be as painless as this, would it?"

"Not now," he agreed. "I must admit there were one or two occasions when I wondered if the game was going to be worth the candle. I'm not cut out to be tied down to one woman."

"But you wouldn't have been, would you? You made that pretty clear."

His shrug dismissed the subject lightly. "Anyway, you'll not be coming out the loser. You stand to make a nice fat profit on the loan." He hesitated. "Unless you'll be after more than that."

Exchanging one partnership for another? She shook her head. "No, thanks. I'll be more than happy with a percentage return." It was her turn to pause. "Just one more thing. I think I'd better start looking for another job when we do get back."

He looked dismayed. "You mean I've got to start breaking in a new secretary!"

"Oh, there'll be compensations." Knowing Marcus, he would make sure there were. For herself, she wasn't sure what she would do. Find a job which would take her overseas, perhaps. Anywhere but this country. Once cut, the ties must not be rejoined again. "About Diane—" she tagged on relentlessly.

"I'll leave her alone." He sounded resigned. "Pity. She's an entertaining little thing."

"Let her down lightly, though."

"Like a feather."

He didn't, of course, She had known he wouldn't. What he did do was treat the girl as though she didn't exist from that moment on. Greer could sympathise with her obvious confusion, but could do little to allevi­ate it. She was thankful when Ty whisked her onto the floor.

"Congratulations," Ty said dryly, taking advantage of the music to drown out the words from the others. "You brought him right back to heel!"

"It wasn't a case of bringing him back anywhere," she responded, "just of pointing out that Diane's the kind to take things seriously."

"It's her you were thinking of, then? I thought there might have been a tinge of jealousy."

"Not on my side. I can't speak for you." Her eyes sparkled. "After all, you were the one she was pie-eyed about up until now!"

"Not with any encouragement. And that's more than can be said for that fiancé of yours. Tom was getting ready to go for him if you hadn't stepped in. Is that the kind of life you're going to face with him?"

The anger died in her. "You wouldn't understand," she said in low tones.

"You're darn right I wouldn't! l don't understand any woman not minding his kind of carry-on."

"At least he's open about it, and that's a sight better than being one of those wives who spends years think­ing they have a devoted husband, only to discover he's been having affairs anyway behind her back!"

"Stop being such a damned cynic. If that's your experience then it's a product of the environment you come from."

"You mean it isn't like that around here?"

"I wouldn't say never. Not often." His mouth widened without humour. "Maybe it's lack of opportunity. Single women in short supply and the married ones too busy."

"Now who's being a cynic!"

"Different source. Anyway, I'm allowed to be. I've been around a bit longer. I give the two of you a year at the outside."

"Well, don't worry, I shan't come weeping on your shoulder."

"It wouldn't be available. You've made your bed, you lie on it."

"Peeved because you couldn't get me into yours?" she hissed at him recklessly, and felt her nerves tauten in response to the mockery in his eyes.

"Honey, I didn't even try. Not because I didn't want to, I admit. You're nothing if not distracting." The mockery deepened when she made no attempt to answer. "No come-back? Shame! But then you don't

have much of a leg to stand on, do you?"

That was true, she acknowledged, but for reasons other than the ones to which he referred. Hitting out at him this way was simply a defence. He was right. Better they should part enemies than friends. The break would be cleaner.

"Will we be able to leave on Monday?" she demanded. "I can't wait to get back to civilised surround­ings."

His voice went hard. "We'll do our best!"

"Hey, you two!" Renée arrived beside them, laughing but curious. "What gives? We're supposed to be en­joying ourselves!"

"Past history," said Ty, and slid an arm about her shoulders. "Let's dance."

It was midnight before the weekend revelry came to an end. Ty had left the car outside the hotel. The four of them walked back there together, parting at the en-trance with directions from Renée on how to find the Campbell farm next morning.

"Thank God that's over," said Marcus when they were alone in the darkened lobby. "A little goes along way!" He looked at Greer, when she remained silent and pulled a face. "Don't look so disapprov­ing. With you I don't expect to have to dissemble.

If you were honest you'd admit it bored you stiff too."

"If I were honest," she said, "I'd admit to all sorts

of things." She turned away toward the staircase. "Goodnight, Marcus."

Matt Campbell looked a good ten to fifteen years younger than his actual age: a rangy man, unstooped, and carrying only a little excess weight. He had the healthy ruddy complexion of one who had spent the greater part of his life outdoors, and still possessed all his hair, now almost white. The most disconcerting thing about him was the glint lurking in his faded blue eyes.

"Good thing you didn't get the Patton jaw," he said to Greer by way of greeting. "Never could abide omen with too much jaw! Why didn't you come to see your father while he was alive?"

"Because I was foolish enough to believe there was only one side to a story," she answered without hesita­tion.

"And now you know there isn't, eh?"

"I'm learning, Mr. Campbell."

"That's something. Good-looking woman, your moth­er," he tagged on with seeming irrelevance. "Frank should have known better."

"So should you," put in his wife tolerantly. "Greer didn't come to rake over old ashes."

"Never did any harm."

They were all of them out on the wide porch with its view over the spreading acres of fruit trees. The ones closest to the homestead were already stripped of their loads, but the pickers were still at work farther down, despite it being a Sunday; Greer had seen them on the way in. Only the parents had been in the house when she and Marcus had arrived. She wondered now where the rest of the family was—and if Ty would be coming.

Marcus had been oddly subdued all morning. She saw Matt Campbell studying him as he sat looking so thor­oughly out of place in the smart suede jacket, and would have given a lot to know what the old man was thinking about the two of them. Why it should be of any impor­tance when they were probably leaving the district for good the next day, she wasn't sure, but it was.

"The children will be in soon for lunch," Jean Camp-bell volunteered. "My sons have their own homes, but Sundays we all congregate here to eat. Makes it easier, especially harvest time. They're all out there helping now, apart from little Mickey who's not walking yet. He's asleep in the bedroom."

"If we'd realised you already had such a crowd..."

Greer began apologetically, and was stayed by the older woman's smilingly uplifted hand.

"Bless you, two more mouths isn't going to make any difference. I've a turkey roasting in the oven that would feed an army! Anyway, you only make up for

Ross and Teresa not being with us this week. That's my other son and Renée's sister."

"I met Ross up at Talso," Greer acknowledged. "Is he the eldest?"

"That's right. And the only one of the boys not mar­ried yet. Teresa went to visit her fiancé's family down in Halifax for a week or two." There was a faint ele­ment of sadness in the statement. "She'll be living there after they're married, of course. André was up here on a camping holiday in the spring. That's how they met."

Greer would have liked to ask about Renée and Ty, but didn't know how to broach the subject. She wished Marcus would make some attempt to join in the conversation, instead of sitting there looking as if he'd rather be anywhere than here.

The sight of the truck coming up the dirt road was a relief. It appeared to be crowded with people, three of them children. There was a lot of laughing and arm waving as the vehicle disappeared round the corner of the house.

"Give them a minute or two to tidy up, then I'll get the food on the table," Jean said comfortably. "Hope you'll not mind eating all of a leap. We have to pack ourselves rather close to all get round at one go."

Ty was the first person Greer saw when they went through to the big living room where the table had been set. He greeted her casually, introduced her to Renee's brothers and their wives, and went back to his previous conversation with the eldest of the three children, a boy of about nine.

"You two talking trees again?" queried Matt with a mock glare. "What are you trying to do, man, break up the family?"

The boy's mother laughed. "He wants to be a warden like his Uncle Ross. We can't all have farming blood, Dad."

"Maybe, but seems to me this feller's taking more than his fair share!"

"Accident, not design," Ty assured him. "Anyway, it's only exchanging one kind of tree for another." "Rather different life styles, though," put in Marcus unexpectedly, and drew a shrug.

"Depends how you look at it. We're all part of the same community."

Yes, they were, Greer thought with envy. Only she and Marcus were out of place: the outsiders looking in. But her roots were here. She knew that now. They al-ways would be here, no matter where she went or what she did with her life.

They were fourteen at table, making elbow room limited to say the least. Greer found herself between Ty and Marcus and felt squeezed, emotionally if not physically. She had little to say throughout the meal, preferring to listen to the talk ranging freely about her.

"We'll be going out later," Ty remarked at one point while handling one of the enormous dishes of vegetables for her to help herself from. "Are you coming, or staying with the old fold?"

"Coming," she returned promptly. "I daresay I can soon pick it up."

"That's the general idea. How about the boyfriend?" "I don't know." With some deliberation she turned round to Marcus on her other side. "Want to pick some apples this afternoon?"

The look he gave her was not encouraging. "I'm not exactly dressed for apple picking."

"That's okay," Ty said imperturbably. "We'll find you both a spare pair of overalls."

It was Jean Campbell who settled the matter. "I'm quite sure Marcus doesn't want to come picking. Why should he?" She smiled at him. "Stay here and keep me company instead. Matt will be asleep all afternoon and I could do with somebody to talk to."

Marcus smiled back, never loath to turn on the charm for a woman, no matter what age. "I'd enjoy that."

"I never sleep all afternoon!" Matt exclaimed sud­denly as though only just realising what had been said. "Forty winks, that's all. If I've my eyes closed the rest of the time it's only to stop your gossiping, woman."

"Are you sure you don't mind being left?" Greer asked Marcus when she had a brief moment alone with him after the meal.

"Hobson's choice, isn't it?" he said. "I wouldn't call it my favourite way of spending a Sunday afternoon, but it's a sight better than shinning up ladders to pick apples." He eyed her strangely for a moment before adding, "I'm not sure what you're trying to prove either."

"I'm not trying to prove anything," she denied. "It makes a change, that's all."

They went down in the same truck with David Campbell driving. Renée found Greer a clean pair of bib and brace overalls to slip on over her tailored slacks and shirt. The hired pickers had lunched out under the trees and were already back at work again with an eye to achieving a certain quota. Apples were placed in a bas­ket as they were picked from the branches, the empha­sis being on the placing as opposed to tossing. The slightest bruising of the fruit would render it unfit for packing.

The secret lay in the rhythm of movement, Greer soon discovered. With the short ladder in place against the trunk, one reached only for the fruit within easy stretching distance, freeing it with a slight twisting pull and adding it gently to the growing layers. Because of the unusual warmth for the time of year there was an extra air of urgency about the work. Each day the fruit hung in the sun brought it closer to the time when it would be too ripe for packing and transportation.

She shared a tree with Renée at first. The tatter's picking rate was easily twice as fast as her own.

"Long practice," she was told when she wryly men­tioned the fact. "You can't expect to equal old hands in one afternoon. I've been doing this since I was about five."

"You've never lived away from the valley, then?"

Greer queried, and received a smiling shake of the dark head.

"Can't say I've ever thought about it. I've been to Montreal a few times and enjoyed it, but I wouldn't like to live there. The boys all went to college there, of course. Dad doesn't believe in educating women be­yond a certain point. He says all the majority of them want to do is get married." Renée laughed. "He must be despairing of me by now. Twenty-seven is old maid status in these parts!"

But not for much longer, surely? Greer caught a glimpse of Ty working a couple of trees away, shirt sleeves rolled. Renée fitted his requirements in a wife to perfection. What was he waiting for? She tried not to dwell on the image of Renée presiding over the house where she herself had been born. She had given up all rights to possessiveness over the place.

They worked through until sunset, with just one short break for hot tea and scones brought down from the house. Returning through the cool dusk, Greer felt tired but curiously contented. Her shoulders were be-ginning to ache and she rubbed at them absently, feet dangling over the tailboard of the slowly moving truck. When the hands descended on her from behind to massage the affected areas with a strong sure touch she made no move to turn round, aware of Renée at her side and wondering what she thought of Ty's solicita­tion.

"Relax," he said. "Your muscles are all tensed up. Everybody gets stiff the first day or two."

"She did wonderfully well for a first timer," Renée acknowledged. "We're grateful, Greer, although I feel a bit of a cheat inviting you out for the day then making you work."

"You didn't make me, and I enjoyed it." She wished Ty would stop doing what he was doing, yet at the same time desperately wanted him to keep on. "That's fine now," she said at length with some reluctance. "Thanks."

"You'll feel it tomorrow," he warned, but he de­sisted. She couldn't gauge his tone. Amusement, possi­bly. He was almost certainly aware what his touch could do to her.

Marcus was in the living room with Matt, a glass in his hand. He looked glad to see them return. It must, Greer thought with guilt, have been a long afternoon. Renee took her through to the bathroom to wash and tidy up before supper. She could hear the throb of the diesel engine which not only ran the lighting generator but pumped water from the deep sunken well into the house itself. By some standards these people lived a near primitive life, yet they lacked few conveniences.

Supper was a much quieter, more leisurely meal than lunch had been. By the end of it all the three children were rubbing their eyes with tiredness, and were shortly whisked off home by their respective parents. Renée suggested a stroll around the house for the four of them. Surprisingly Marcus was the first to agree.

"Could do with stretching my legs," he said. "I've done nothing but sit around all day."

Whose fault was that? Greer thought caustically, but refrained from comment.

Outside the night was cooler than she had hitherto experienced, with a fitful wind from the north making her glad of the warm woollen jacket. Ty sniffed the air a couple of times and nodded.

"It's breaking," he said. "There's rain coming." "Tonight?" Marcus asked.

"Maybe. Definitely in the next twenty-four hours." He gave the other man an oblique glance. "It won't stop the trains running. There's one through to Halifax at four tomorrow afternoon."

"Shall we be able to be on it?"

"No reason why not. Jake will have everything ready for signing in the morning. You can be in Halifax to-morrow night and on a plane home on Tuesday."

Marcus laughed. "You certainly did some pushing with that lawyer of yours!"

"It seemed worthwhile. I wanted this thing finished with." Ty's tone had hardened.

"You're not on your own." With some deliberation Marcus slid an arm through one of Greer's. "We're both ready for home."

They had stopped at the first stretch of white fence enclosing the small pasture where the Campbells grazed their two household dairy cows. Beyond it rose the dark­ened slope of fir-clad hillside toward Mackinlay. The moon was full, with craters and mountains sharply etched, its light stark and white over the landscape as if foretelling the winter to come.

Greer imagined the brush of snowflakes against her face, the crunch of it under her feet. No melting to slush in this climate. Once down it would stay pristine and fresh, with only the wildlife to mark a passage through it. She thought of London in December, damp and dismal as it usually was at that time of year. By then Ty would be in Montreal; perhaps this time with a wife. For the first time in her life she wished she were some-one else.

Renée announced her intention of making coffee when they got back indoors, cutting through Marcus's intended leave-taking. Greer went with her to the kitchen, glad of the excuse to extend the evening a little further.

"I really have enjoyed today," she sighed, arranging cups and saucers on the tray Renée got out for her. "Will you be finished picking before the weather really breaks up, do you think?"

"We could use all the help we can get," the other girl admitted. "It's been a bumper crop and we were late starting." She paused a moment before tagging on casually, "Why don't you stay on a bit longer yourself? We'd love to have you here." She laughed then. "That sounds conniving, doesn't it, coming right after I just got through saying how short-handed we were!"

Greer smiled back. "If I could I'd be only too glad to lend a hand. But I have to get back."

"Because of your job? Surely it helps having your fiancé for a boss?"

"Not that way. He hates using temps."

"Then you'll carry on working with him after you're married too?"

"I imagine so. I don't really know what else I'd do." Renée gave her an odd glance. "You'll have to stop once you start with a baby, though."

"I suppose I will." Greer did not intend pursuing that point any further. She said softly, "Are you going to marry Ty?"

A sudden wry smile played about the other girl's lips. "We've talked about it," she said. "It would be a very suitable match. We're the same kind; the same stock. We get along fine. We understand one another. Every-body expects it of us. Only...."

Greer was motionless, the spoon she had been about to place in one of the saucers suspended in her hand. "Only?" she prompted, and heard her own voice thick and strange in her ears.

"Only we're not in love," Renée finished with an air of defiance. "And I don't happen to think compat­ibility is enough—not on its own. It's different for Ty. Men get lonely on their own, and out here that's most of the year. He wants a family to come home to, and he'd settle for less than the best to get it. I'm not sure I can."

"You've... said all this to him?"

"As well as I could. Not that he agrees with it. He thinks love can grow between two people given the right basis."

"And you don't?"

"Not in the same way. I'm like a lot of other women, I want to look at a man and feel as if bells were jangling inside me. I want him to look at me and see more than just a good housekeeper and mother to his children!" She stopped there, looking embarrassed. "I must sound like an idiot."

Greer shook her head. "Not to another woman."

"You mean that's what you'd like too?" There was a sudden note of perplexity in the soft Canadian voice. "Then why are you marrying Marcus?"

CHAPTER EIGHT

It took Greer a moment to recover her poise. Eyes veiled, she said lightly, "Surely that's obvious."

"I thought it was. Now I'm not so sure." Renée shook her head. "You're not in love with him, that much I'm sure of."

"How?"

"Because I know the way people in love act. My sister Teresa isn't the demonstrative type, but there's a certain look in her eyes when she sees André. You don't have that look. Neither, if it comes to that, does Marcus." She hesitated. "To tell you the truth, I imag­ined you were marrying him for the same reasons I'd have if I married Ty—the want of any grand passion in your life."

Greer's smile was rueful. "Perhaps I was."

It was a slip, and Renée pounced on it. "Was? Does that mean you've had second thoughts?"

"No." Greer met the steady gaze and made a small helpless gesture with her hands. "Yes. Only please keep it to yourself, Renée. I don't want anyone to know."

"By anyone meaning Ty?" on a shrewd note. "I don't see why it should make any difference whether he knows or not."

"He only agreed to go through with buying my shares because he thinks I'm past seeing reason over Marcus and deserved to be married for my money. If he knew the truth he might pull out of the arrangement."

"And you want the capital anyway?"

"I've promised Marcus the backing."

"Then unpromise." Renée looked at her long and hard. "Greer, answer me truthfully. You don't really want to sell out to Ty, do you?"

"I don't know." It was little more than a murmur. "I honestly don't know."

"I think you do, only you're not admitting it, even to yourself." Renee's voice took on a new note of persuasion. "You belong here. I was watching you this afternoon and you were just like one of us. Don't do it. Tell Ty you've changed your mind. This whole business is bothering him because he knows it isn't what Frank wanted. He'd be only too glad to let things lie."

"Even at the cost of retaining a partner he de­spises?" Despite herself Greer couldn't stop her voice from quivering a little on that last word. Fatalistically, she watched the sudden light of comprehension dawn in the other girl's eyes.

"I'm sure that isn't true," Renee denied after a long moment. "The worst he's said of you is that he'd like to shake you till your teeth rattled—and that's just a mild expression coming from Ty. And if it's so important what he thinks of you, all the more reason to stay and change his mind."

"I can't." Greer wished to heaven she had kept her mouth shut. She said pleadingly, "You will keep this to yourself, won't you, Renée? It's easier all round."

"All right," with a sigh. "But I think you're being a fool. Marcus isn't worth it." She seized hold of the cof­fee pot. "Better take this through before they come looking for us."

Matt Campbell greeted them with a beetle-browed scowl. "Thought you'd gone out for it," he grumbled. "Suppose you've been gossiping, the two of you. Al-ways the same when females get together!"

Greer caught Ty's eye on her and felt herself colour. She wondered what his reaction would be if he knew just what they had been discussing. Perhaps Renée hadn't been quite fair in relating her own feelings so freely, yet it seemed to have been a time for confi­dences. Recalling the number of times he had accused her of calculation over her relationship with Marcus, she wanted to ask him where the difference lay. If he wasn't in love with Renée then he was no better than she was.

The evening broke up eventually at ten. Taking her leave of the Campbells; Greer wished she was in a posi­tion to take up Renee's offer to stay on. But what was the use, anyway, once she'd signed away her birth-right? Better to make the break clean and final.

"I'll see you both in Jake's office at eleven," Ty said before going to fetch his own car round from the back. "You can dump your things at the station house till train time. George will look after them."

Renée made one more attempt at persuasion as Greer slid into her seat at Marcus's side. "Don't be a fool," she said urgently. "Do what you want to do."

Marcus let several minutes elapse before asking the inevitable question, watching the dark dirt road ahead with narrowed concentration.

"Did that mean what I think it meant back there?" he said at length. "You've told Renée I'm forcing you into selling?"

"Of course not," Greer returned levelly. "How could I? You don't have that kind of hold over me."

"No, I don't, do I." He sounded disgruntled about it. There was some obvious hesitation before he added, "Look, how about coming in with me? That way you'll more than compensate for what you might stand to lose on future increases in profits from timber."

She gave him a quick sideways glance. "Always as­suming the oil is there."

"It's there." There was no element of doubt in his voice. "An untapped source and we hold the mineral rights. With our combined resources we should be ready to start drilling in a couple of months."

"How long do you have to come up with your part of it?" she asked slowly.

"Another couple of weeks at the outside. I'm only in at all because I managed to scrape up the initial contri­bution. If I drop out now there'll be plenty of others only too willing to take on the risks. There's an Ameri­can based company started off in just this same way eight years ago with a limited capital. Their first hole came in and they're worth millions now. We could do it in even less."

With luck on their side, Greer acknowledged. If that first hole came in dry it might be another matter. "I don't think I'd want to be a millionaire," she said with an attempt at humour. "They never seem very happy people."

"I could cope with that kind of misery." He didn't try to persuade her. "Just a straight loan, then. Prop­erly drawn up, of course."

And all she stood to lose was fifty thousand dollars. Right then the money meant little. She was seeing it as land thick with forest, rich in more than just lumber, and none of it hers. The last of the Patton's was pulling out.

The wind had risen when she got up at eight, the sky turned grey and comfortless though still without sign of the promised rain. It was much cooler than it had been these last days. Greer donned slacks and a sweater for warmth, and thought fleetingly of the jeans and shirts she had left out at the house, wondering what Ty would do with them. Throw them away, probably. There was no reason for him to keep them.

Depressed and unhappy, she went down to the hotel dining room for breakfast. Marcus was already there.

"Not so pleasant a climate this morning," he com­mented. "Hate to think what the winters must be like up here. All packed, are you?"

She nodded without speaking, felt him look at her and made an effort to come to terms with the situation as it was. She was going home. A week from now she would be at her desk as though nothing had happened. A month from now she would be wondering why on earth she had hesitated at all. It wasn't true, and she knew it, but it helped to pretend that it might be.

Marcus settled the bill while she went to fetch her jacket from her room. Downstairs again, she found the cases already in the car and Marcus behind the wheel impatient to be off. She was aware of glances directed their way by passersby, and smiled a brief farewell at one familiar face without being able to place their mo­ment of meeting.

The Land-Rover which came tearing along the road from the direction of the lake drew all eyes as it screeched to a stop outside the hotel. Greer froze with one foot already inside the car as Bill Hyman got out of the driving seat and came rapidly toward them.

"Glad I caught you," he said. "Message from Ty. Afraid he won't be able to see you as arranged this morning. They've a big blaze going up back at Talso. He's gone up there to see what's what."

Marcus swore softly under his breath. "How long is he likely to be gone?" he demanded.

"Depends how long it takes 'em to bring it under control. This wind doesn't drop or it doesn't rain, there's a chance we'll lose the camp. Need every man

jack they can get. I'm off myself soon as I get a few more organised!"

"Wouldn't you just credit it!" Marcus said disgustedly when the other man was back in his own vehicle and moving off. "We could be stuck here for days!" He looked at her still standing with one hand supporting her on the door. "Mayas well get in. We'll go down to Baxter and wait there. It's at least a step up from this dump."

"Mackinlay is no dump." she said, and took her foot out of the car with a sudden air of decisiveness. "You go on down to Baxter if you like. I'm going with Bill, if I can catch him."

"What for?" He sounded alarmed. "What do you think you can do to help?"

"I don't know. Probably not much." She was gazing down the street to where Bill's car had stopped again.

"But I'm going anyway."

"Because of Frazer?" Marcus had got out and was staring at her, drawing her eyes back to him.

"No," she said, then paused, face registering uncer­tainty again for a brief instant before hardening back into resolve. "Not just because of Ty. That's my forest out there as much as his. If I can't do anything to stop it burning I can at least share the burden. I'm...sorry, Marcus."

For a moment she thought he was going to try arguing with her, but something of her determination must have communicated itself to him, for he let his shoulders sag a little in defeat.

"You're a fool, Greer," he said curtly. "You know that? You stay out here till Frazer marries Renée and then what?"

"I don't know," she said again. "I only know I can't give it up. Perhaps I'll change my mind again. I don't know that either. But I'm willing to take a chance."

"On getting Frazer?"

"On becoming what my father wanted me to be."

She moved sharply. "There's Bill coming back. Just leave my case in the hotel."

The mill foreman stamped hard on his brakes as she ran out in front of him waving her arms, slowing to a halt a few feet away. She pulled open the passenger door and almost fell in beside him, meeting his aston­ished gaze with purpose.

"I'm coming with you."

He looked from her to Marcus still standing where she had left him by the car, then back again with an air of uncertainty. "You sure?"

"Yes. Let's go." She gave him a smile, feeling the relief surging inside her. "That's an order."

His grin was slow and comprehending. "Okay, Boss! Glad to have you aboard."

Her last glimpse of her former fiancé was of a hand lifted in rueful salute as Bill accelerated away. She waved back, swamping down feelings of guilt in the sure knowledge that Marcus would find some other way to get what he wanted. Later she would write to him, try to explain how she felt about this land where she had been born. He wouldn't understand, of course.

She wasn't all that sure she did herself yet. It was like starting over again; finding the real Greer Patton beneath the veneer. Maybe she wouldn't turn out to be so different after all, but at least she'd have tried both sides.

It took them a couple of hours hard driving to reach Talso. Long before they got there, Greer could smell the smoke on the wind, see the reddened glow in the sky topping the distant horizon when they breasted a rise. They bypassed the camp and rode a farther mile and a half before reaching the first group of men and machines creating a fire break by bulldozing down a wide swathe of forest with frantic urgency.

"Why not closer to it and try to save more trees?" "There wouldn't be time," he said. "They'll make this as wide as possible before it gets too close, and start a controlled burn to stop any bridging."

"Will it work?"

His shrug was non-committal. "With any luck. I've seen fire leap what looked like impossible distances when it's wind-driven. Best hope is rain, or for the wind to veer and drive it back on itself. Nothing eats up fire like fire."

Greer had been searching among the figures moving swiftly about the site while he had been speaking. "I can't see Ty out there," she said.

"He'll be up at the front if I know him. Nothing you can do. Best sit still and wait till they reach us. I'll go and give a hand here."

"No." She was pale and determined. "I want to see how bad it is for myself. If you won't take me I'll drive."

He gave way with a sigh. "Ty won't go for it. He'll have enough on without looking out for a woman." "He won't have to. I shan't be putting myself in any danger. I just want to know the worst." She was not about to admit that it was Ty himself she wanted td be sure of.

They detoured again to steer clear of the worst of the smoke, following a rough track made within the last few hours by vehicles passing before them. The fire front was several hundred yards wide and advancing fast on the wind, whole trees leaping into flame along with the underbrush. There were men everywhere, smoke-blackened figures wielding various implements with which to attack the springing areas of fire. Chemi­cals were also in use, but appeared to be having small effect on the overall movement forward, the flames passing from branch to branch where they couldn't get

through on the ground. Even from a hundred yards back the heat was intense, searing the throat, and mak­ing eyes water.

On Bill's advice, Greer wet her handkerchief in a bucket of water brought up from a nearby stream un-fortunately too small to be of much practical help, and tied it over her nose and mouth. They were containing the sides of the burning section, they learned from one of the fire-fighters coming back to wet his own parched throat, but the advance was unstoppable by ordinary fire fighting methods. All they could hope to do was slow it down enough to give the men working behind them on the fire break time to make it a good one. If that failed there was little to stop it reaching the camp.

"Better get out of here," he said. "We nearly lost one truck a while back when it got circled. Creeps round the back of you before you know where you are."

"Have you seen Ty Frazer recently?" Greer asked with urgency as the man made to turn back in his task.

"He's around. Saw him half hour back." The grin was mirthless. "Leastways, I think it was him. Hard to tell out here." He watched flame run up the tall, straight trunk of a young fir like dancing red and gold fingers, mouth compressed. "Just one big tinder box! Where the hell is that rain!"

Bill took hold of Greer's arm as a bush not fifty yards away took hold. "Come on, I'm taking you out of here. You heard what he said."

"All right." She didn't want to go, but she was serv­ing no useful purpose by staying. These men were ex­perienced in fighting such fires. If they couldn't stop it nothing she could do was going to help.

The gap of cleared ground had widened considerably by the time they got back there. She could understand now why this particular spot had been chosen for the stand. Most of the trees here were young and fairly easily shoved out of the way by the two bulldozers, whereas more mature ones would have had to be cut and dragged, thereby lengthening the process. Time was the most important factor, and from the speed with which that front had been advancing they didn't have much of it left.

This time she made no protest when Bill announced his intention of lending a hand, only wishing there were something she could contribute to the effort.

"There's nothing you can do except get in the way," he said bluntly. "Just sit tight, will you. It's going to be tricky when they fire that trash."

The wind was driving smoke down over the whole site, making it difficult to see anything clearly. Greer was half glad of it. The roughly cleared area was an affront, a great raw gash ripped through the living forest. Even with the fire out it would be a long time before the scars began to fade. Burned trees didn't grow again. They had to be replaced with new.

The firing was a controlled operation, but tricky as Bill had warned, under the conditions prevailing. Any slip could mean the starting of a new line of fire in advance of the old one. Men began filtering back as the main fire approached, clothing torn and wet and filthy, eyes blood red from the smoke and heat. Some had burns too, though no one appeared to be badly hurt. Loggers were a tough breed, Greer acknowledged. Even in this day and age they had to be to withstand the demands of life. She wished Ty would show up.

When he did she barely recognised him at first. He came into view through the wreathing smoke, talking with one of the men who had been working on the fire break and studying the blackened gap stretching ahead. He had his back to her as she sat in the car, his shirt ripped in several places. One sleeve was almost parted from its moorings, revealing a long red sear mark across the brown shoulder. As she watched, he put up a hand and rubbed at the back of his neck as if to ease

stiff muscles. The hand was black with wood-ash and left streaks of it on both collar and skin.

It was a couple of minutes before he turned and saw her. There was blood mingled with the dirt on his face and the same painful redness in his eyes. He stared at her blankly for several motionless seconds before moving toward her. When he spoke his voice sounded hoarse.

"What do you think you're doing out here?" "Watching a lot of money go up in smoke." She kept her own voice even, though it took some doing, "I still have that right."

"So you do." His lip curled. "Is that all it means to you?"

"No," she said, "it isn't. But I don't expect you to believe that. Is this going to stop it?"

"I hope so. They've done a grand job in the time. We'll have lost a few hundred acres but saved the camp. Not that you need worry. It won't affect our deal."

"There isn't going to be any deal." She said it quietly, eyes on the flickering redness among the trees on the far side of the break. "Here it comes!"

There was nothing anybody could do now but watch and wait as the flames came roaring up to the edge of the cleared gap, reaching out long banners on the wind for fresh fuel and failing to find it. Here and there small spot fires started up among the blackened grasses from burning debris deposited by the wind, but with nothing to feed on soon petered out again. A muted cheer went up as it slowly became evident that efforts had not been in vain. The break was wide enough. Stopped in its ad­vance, the fire could now be controlled until it burned itself out. The camp was safe.

"That's it," Ty said on a suddenly weary note. "Now we can start counting the cost." His eyes came back to Greer's face, expression unreadable. "What was it you were saying?"

Her hands gripped tight in her lap. "I said there isn't going to be any deal. I'm not selling."

The pause was extensive. She daren't look at him.

When he did speak it was short and to the point. "Why?"

"I changed my mind."

"Just like that."

"Why not?" She tried to make a joke of it. "It's called excercising the feminine prerogative."

He didn't smile. "What about Briefly?"

"He's gone." She hoped that was true. "I'm staying."

"Sure you are." His face was taut beneath the dirt.

"Look, whatever you're trying to pull, forget it. You fixed the price. It's that or nothing!"

"I'm not trying to pull anything," she came back desperately. "What do I have to say to convince you? I've sent Marcus away."

A hand came snaking in through the window to grasp

her left one and hold it up. "How come you're still wearing his ring, then?"

She bit her lip. "I forgot to give it back. I'll have to post it. And you're hurting my wrist."

"That's not all I'd like to hurt." He sounded savage.

"I'm not sure what game you're playing, but you're not doing it in this neck of the woods."

"There isn't any game. And you can't turn me off my own property." She was trying her utmost to stay calm about it. "Those deeds were never signed, remember? I own forty-two per cent of all this—including that lot out there." She looked into the hard features and made one more attempt to reach him. "Ty, I made a mistake and I want to rectify it. Don't make it any harder than it already is."

"You don't deserve to have it made easy," he came back. "And leopards don't change their spots over-night. Cut it out, honey. Let's have the truth. The only mistake you made was in not realising what Frank was worth years ago."

"I did know. At least, I had some idea." "And you didn't care?"

"It didn't make any difference to the way I felt about things, if that's what you mean. I needed a father, not money."

"You didn't object to it over the years."

"My mother only took what was necessary to keep us," she responded. "I started paying my own way as soon as I was able to take a job. I'm still not all that interested in the financial side, believe it or not.' want to stay for one reason and one reason only—because I owe it to my father to give it a try."

He didn't believe her, she could see that from his face. He straightened abruptly away from the window to lift a hand in a signal, then came back again for a moment.

"I'm going to get Bill to run you back into town. Right now I've enough on my plate. Try thinking up some more fairy tales while you're waiting."

There was no time for further protestations because Bill was coming over to the car, honest face rueful.

"Sorry about this," he said. "Couldn't help myself."

"I can believe it." His employer stepped away from the vehicle without a further glance in Greer's direc­tion. "Take her down to the hotel and leave her there."

Greer sat in rigid silence as Bill got into the driving seat. She felt him glance at her, but he made no com­ment, putting the car into motion and swinging about to bump over the rough ground. The smoke was still heavy enough to cause discomfort, the fire still burning beyond the charred gap, though with little to go at. Blackened stumps were all that was left of what only yesterday had been a wide track of healthy forest.

The rain started when they were about halfway back to town, first a few drops, spattered against the screen, then a regular deluge.

"Wouldn't you know it!" Bill said in disgust. "Three hours too late to be any real use!" He looked Greer's way when she made no response. "You okay?"

"Yes, fine." It was going to be like beating her head against a wall, but she knew she had to try. "Bill, will you drop me off at the house?" she asked softly.

He looked uncomfortable. "Ty said the hotel." "I know what he said."

His laugh was sudden and booming. "You're a Patton okay! Have it your own way. If this keeps up Ty shouldn't be long behind us."

Greer hoped so. She wanted to get it over. Ty might both despise and mistrust her, but he wasn't going to drive her out. If she couldn't have him she would settle for what was already hers.

The surface of the lake was chopped by wind and rain, the outboard rocking at its moorings. There was a fire already laid in the big wide hearth. Bill put a light to

it for her, then went through to do the same with the kitchen boiler for hot water.

"See you," he said laconically on leaving.

The jeans and shirts she had left behind were neatly stacked on the bed she had used that one night, fresh­ly laundered and ironed. Renée at a guess, though why they were still here heaven only knew. The boots too had been polished until they shone and left at the foot of the bed. It was almost as if Greer had been ex­pected to return.

She took a bath as soon as the water was lukewarm, washing the smell of smoke from her hair and tow­elling it as dry as she could on one of the big rough towels Ty seemed to prefer. Dressed again in clean clothing, she felt better equipped to face what was to come. He would be here soon. She could feel it in her bones.

He came while she was still drying her hair in front of the fire. She didn't move when he came through the door, remembering the first time she had seen him just a week ago. One short week and her whole life turned upside down. It didn't seem possible, but it had happened. It was still happening.

"Hope you don't mind me lighting the fire," she said with deliberation. "It was chilly."

"It could get worse." His tone was curt. "I should have known Bill wouldn't be able to handle you."

"He didn't try. A gentleman, is Bill. Not that he had much choice, of course, working for the Company." She gave him back look for look, knowing the flippancy was overdone. "There's plenty of hot water if you want a bath. I'd put something in it to take the sting out of those scratches and burns."

"You'll be in it if you don't cut the bright act," he responded. "I'm up to here with this whole damned business! Soon as I get cleaned up you're going into town."

She took a deep breath before saying it. "No, I'm not. I'm staying right here in my own house."

"Your house?"

"It's true. You moved in with my father, not the other way round. Good thing you kept your own place in good repair. You'll have time to go over and light a fire before dark."

"Like hell I will!" He was across to where she knelt before she could move, bending to grab her by the arms and jerk her to her feet. "Let's get this straight I'm not moving house on any whim of yours. You want to stay here, you stay. But if you do here's an example of what to expect."

His mouth was hard, the anger in him searing. Her instinct was to fight him, but she didn't.

"Passive resistance?" he mocked when he finally let her go. "That won't do you any good."

"It won't do me any harm either," she said huskily. "I'm still Frank's daughter, and you had some feeling

for him if you don't have it for anyone else. I'm safe enough."

He looked at her for a long hard moment, the anger fading to be replaced by sudden weariness.

"Go home, Greer," he said on a rough note. You don't belong here."

"I can try to." She didn't touch him, sensing something in him she wasn't sure of yet. "Ty, help me," she begged. "Be my friend. I'm going to need all I can get."

"Then you can count me out." The hardness was back again. "I want you out of here, back where you came from."

"Scared?" she taunted, her own anger rising despite herself. "Afraid you're going to find me more than you can cope with?" She saw his face change and felt the desire to hurt die as suddenly as it had sprung into be­ing. "I'm not a carbon copy of my mother," she said thickly. "Not all the way through. She came out to this life cold, but it's in my blood. Won't you give me a chance to prove it?"

"No," he said with flat finality, and turned away from her. "I'll go and take that bath. If you want something to do try getting some food ready."

She stayed where she was for several minutes after he had gone from the room trying to come to grips with the defeat growing inside her. She wasn't going to get through to him, not in a million years. The emotion she had seen for that fleeting instant in his eyes would never be allowed to develop as she knew now that it could develop. He would see to that. He might kiss her, he might admit to wanting her, but nothing would drag from him the acknowledgment of feelings deeper than that. He had seen too much of the kind of hurt her mother had brought to her father to risk letting himself in for some of the same.

So where did she go from here? Did she stay anyway and let her feelings for this land of her father's com­pensate so far as they could, or did she back out while she still had a chance to get over Ty? She shrank from the thought of never seeing him again, but wasn't that preferable to living with the constant reminder?

He stayed twenty minutes in the bath soaking. Greer made omelettes with tomatoes and mushrooms when she heard him moving about. She was putting them on the table when he came through rolling the sleeves of a clean shirt. His arms were gouged with scratches, still inflamed-looking despite their immersion in warm wa­ter. He had slicked back his hair, but the singled ends showed.

She forced herself to eat something, sitting in silence across from him, eyes on her plate. She poured coffee when he had finished, and pushed across one of the mugs.

"There's cheese if you're still hungry," she said.

He shook his head. "That will do me for now. You certainly know how to make an omelette."

"One of my accomplishments." She met his eyes and got jerkily to her feet. "I'm cold."

He pushed back his chair but made no move to follow her to the fireplace, lighting a cigarette and drawing on it deeply.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

She lifted her shoulders. "You don't leave me much alternative. You'll go out of your way to make my life here unbearable if I stay."

He didn't deny it. "So you'll go back to London?"

"I don't know. I have to think about it." It was useless appealing to him, but she had to force herself not to try. "You're so sure of your own assessments, aren't you?" she burst out bitterly instead. "Haven't you ever been wrong?"

"I've been wrong," he said. "Only not this time. I'm not getting involved."

"You already are involved. We both were from the moment you sent me that letter asking me to come out here." She paused, then, "Why did you ask me?"

He shrugged. "Curiosity, maybe. I wanted to see if there was anything of Frank in you at all." "And is there?"

The reply was hard and cruel. "Not a thing." He moved impatiently. "There's no point in going on with this. Under different circumstances I'm not denying we might have had something going for us, but...."

Something...lasting?" she asked on a husky note. "Maybe."

"You think I'm capable then of feeling something deeply for someone?"

"Providing everything else fitted I daresay you would be. Most women are."

"I'm not most women," she flung at him. "I'm me. Me! If only genetically I'm forced to have something of both my parents in me, but that doesn't make me any less an individual either. Your trouble is...."

She'd forgotten the fire-iron lying where she had left it when rearranging the logs to dry her hair, remember­ing only when she felt it roll under her instep. She clutched wildly at the stone mantelpiece to stop herself from toppling backward into the hearth itself, her breath coming out in a gasp.

"Watch it!" Ty was across the room in a couple of leaps and swinging her upright against him. His hands hurt as they shook her. "Why don't you look what you're doing, you little fool? You could have been burned!" He looked down into her flushed face and widened grey eyes and a muscle jerked hard in the line of his jaw. "For God's sake get out of my life," he gritted.

"I love you." She said it with quiet desperation, disregarding pride. "Ty, I love you. Please don't make me go away."

Something came and went in the strong features.

"Stop it," he said harshly. "I mean it, Greer. Cut it out. One winter out here and you'd be screaming for your city streets and bright lights."

"How do you know till you've let me try? How can anybody ever know?"

"I know." He pushed her away from him, jaw firmed and stubborn. "I've seen it all happen, remember?"

"You were only a boy. How can you be sure there weren't other factors involved? Perhaps the feelings on both sides just didn't go deep enough to surmount the problems. If they had I'm sure they'd have found a compromise."

''All right, so maybe I'm not willing to settle for a. compromise. I told you once what Pd want in a woman. Do you think that sounds like you?"

"Not as I am right now, no. But I could learn."

His lips twisted. "Sure you could. I can see you doing it. You're no more capable of knuckling under to a man than I am of letting a woman rule me."

"Perhaps I wouldn't regard it as knuckling under if I thought he cared enough." She was intent on his face, willing the hardness to relax, willing him to believe and to trust her. "And that's such a small part of it anyway."

"Of what?"

"Marriage."

"I don't remember hearing that mentioned."

"It didn't have to be. I wouldn't settle for anything less, and you know it."

His smile lacked humour. "You might have to. Stop fooling yourself, honey. We wouldn't stand a chance. I want kids—two or three of them. I want them to have a real home, not a battleground."

"I want them too—providing they're yours. And don't tell me I'm not equipped for that kind of adjustment, because Nature got in ahead of you."

The expression in his eyes was hard to decipher. "Don't you have any pride?"

"No," she said. "I gave it up five minutes ago. I love you, and I'm going to make you love me back if I have to stay here and haunt you for the next five years!"

The flippant note died from her voice as she looked at him. "Ty.... "

He took hold of her roughly, but there was nothing rough in the way he kissed her this time. There was a wild, sweet singing in her veins, a feeling of walking on air. He might not feel quite the way she did yet, but he was going to. She was going to make sure that he did. Forgive me, Renée, she thought, but I want him more than you.

Later, much later, when they were rational again, he said softly, "I guess we'll have to cut down on that five years. This house needs a woman's touch."

She stirred in his arms, feeling them strong about her, lifted her head to look at the man she was going to spend the rest of her life getting to know. "Will you trust me?" she asked.

The shadow darkened his eyes again momentarily, then was gone. "I have to," he said. "I want to, that's more than half the battle." He put up a hand and smoothed her cheek, following the line of jaw and throat, his fingers tender against her skin. "You're beautiful, and I love you. It's too soon by far for either of us to be saying that, but I guess it happens quick with some." He paused, a smile curving his lips. "First time I saw that photograph Frank brought back last time he was over, I knew I had to get you out here sometime, even if it was only to see what you were really like."

"And you didn't like what you saw," she said wryly. "Oh, I liked it all right. Too much, I was falling into the same trap as Frank if I didn't do something about it pretty sharpish. That's why I piled on the rough treatment a bit"

"You certainly did!" Greet laughed a little. "You should have let me go back to town that first night, then none of this might have happened."

"I would have done if you hadn't come out with that scheme of yours. That really did it. You were lucky I didn't follow up my first inclinations in breaking down that door. Or the second ones either."

"Most restrained of you, considering."

"Wasn't it just!" He gathered her to him again, sure and in command. "I'm not doing so badly now either, considering how difficult you're making it. Your hair smells of lemon."

"I washed it with your soap, so it should be famil­iar." She was reluctant to bring in the subject, but it had to be said sometime. "Ty, Renée told me you'd discussed marriage with her on occasion. Do you still feel you might be happier with someone like her?"

He was still for a long moment, holding her light. "I think we stood a good chance of making a fair mar­riage," he said at last. "When a man gets to my age without having met the one woman he feels could give him everything, he tends to settle for the best he can get. I'm not in love with Renée, but I have a lot of affection and admiration for her. Did she tell you what she said last time we talked about it?"

"No."

"She said if we neither of us found the real thing in the next three years we might give it a try."

Greer said quietly, "And do you think you really have found it?"

"If I haven't I'm going to know the reason why. You burned your boats just now, in case you'd forgotten. Mine too, if it comes to that." He kissed her again with tender feeling. "We'll get married as soon as we can arrange it, but it will take a couple of weeks for everybody to get prepared. You realise weddings around here are public property? They'd never forgive us if we did them out of the celebrations."

"It's a community," she said, "and I'm going to be part of it. Just as my father was before me. Do you think he'd have been pleased to see us married?"

"Given the opportunity he'd have arranged it. Pity he can't be here to see it, but that's the way it goes."

"Yes." For a moment regret came sweeping over her again, but common sense recognised the futility of wishing. What was done was done and nothing could change it. What she had to do now was start to make up for it. And with Ty at her side that wouldn't be hard.

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