Until Spring Read Free Page B

clothes and drew them under the blanket. She eyed him warily, wondering if he expected her to dress in front of him.
    His eyes softened. "You can go around the curve in the tunnel to put those on," he said. He indicated the dark passageway beyond.
    Still grasping the thin plastic sheeting close around her, she rose painfully to her feet. She cast a fearful look in the direction he'd indicated. A yawning black hole seemed to stretch infinitely into the rock. It smelled damp and dank.
    "Go ahead. There's nothing back there. This is an old mine. The tunnel curves a bit, then splits off into passageways. Did you think you were in a cave?" His eyes invited a reply, but she merely stared at him. He seemed kind and considerate, but you never could tell. Sometimes those were the very ones who insinuated themselves into your good graces, showing their true natures only after you learned to trust them.
    "Here, you can have the flashlight," he said. He took several swift steps forward, startling her so that she faltered and almost fell.
    "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" he said. The light in his eyes was warm.
    She reached out a hand from under the blanket and grabbed the flashlight, then scuttled around the curve in the tunnel until she was out of his sight.
    She set the flashlight on the floor, and with shaking fingers pulled on her still slightly damp jeans and shirt. There was a huge bruise on her right hip and a corresponding one on her right shoulder. She'd hit the ground harder than she'd thought when she tripped over the log.
    She picked up the flashlight and inspected the tunnel. Little sparkly flecks of mineral in the rock walls glinted back at her. The passage wasn't wide, but it was about five and a half feet high, which gave her plenty of room to stand upright. The man who had rescued her would have had to crouch in here. She estimated his height at about six feet.
    Amos slipped up on her and twined himself around her ankles. She bent to pick him up and rested her cheek against his warm fur.
    "Don't worry," she said to him. "It'll be all right. We'll be on our way in no time." She said this only to reassure herself. Amos, she'd discovered, was happy anywhere that he could nestle close and keep warm. He didn't care whether they reached California or not.
    When she had dressed, the flashlight beam preceded her into the front of the mine. The man had put his coat back on and was boiling water in a tin cup. He spared her a glance and said, "You'd better wrap back up in that survival blanket. It'll keep the chill off. I'd give you my coat, but I want to step outside and take care of my horse. I'll also look around and see if I can find a way to get out of here. I hate to wait for Rooney if we don't have to."
    He seemed to assume that she knew what he was talking about. She didn't, but his advice to wrap up in the blanket was a good idea. She wrapped herself tightly in the Mylar, leaving a hand free to push her hair out of her eyes. Her hair was matted and could have used a good brushing. She'd carried a purse when she jumped out of the truck, but she must have lost it in the storm. It had held everything she owned in the world, which wasn't much but included a brush and comb. She dismissed the idea of her appearance from her mind. She wasn't trying to win any beauty contests.
    "Would you like chicken or beef bouillon?" the man asked.
    She blinked at him.
    "For breakfast. I have chicken and beef bouillon cubes. Which would you like?"
    She realized from the patient way that he spoke that he was trying to decide if there was anything wrong with her mental faculties. This gave her the impetus to croak, "Chicken, please." It definitely wouldn't do for him to think she was a mental case. What they did with people they suspected were mentally incapacitated was to call the authorities. Then someone came and took you away to an institution.
    "Here, you can hold this while the bouillon cube dissolves." He handed her the cup, and she