Damn. But the word floated through her mind with little emphasis, as if it came from some place far away. Dissociation. She understood that, too. The only question was for how long. Or how she could shake it.

Some portion of her mind managed to remain detached from her detachment, odd as that sounded. It allowed her to observe what she was doing, and started commenting. A learned skill from the therapy she’d gone through after her return.

The problem with her current dissociation was that it provided a comfortable place to be. A safe place, beyond reach. The other side of the problem, however, was that it held her paralyzed and uncaring, and therefore useless. And the observer part of her even rustled up a little annoyance that some jerk in the woods could have put her here again by doing something as insignificant as yelling at her. Man, he hadn’t even threatened her, he had just told her to go away and called her a spy.

Still, she didn’t move. The day progressed around her, the afternoon arrived with warmth and she was beyond noticing much except the way the shadows moved with the passing hours. She even quit paying attention to the activity around her, instead closing her eyes. It would pass. It always passed eventually. That was one thing she had had to learn to believe, that it would pass.

* * *

The morning after his meeting with Buddy, Craig drove a service truck into town to pick up his laundry and dry cleaning, and shop for some fresh food. Freeze-dried and other lightweight foods didn’t satisfy him indefinitely. Tonight he was going to stay at one of his favorite cabins in the forest and cook. And maybe even heat up enough water to take a comfortable gravity shower rather than the icy ones he was used to.

Oh, he could have come into town more than he did, but the fact was, he liked his job enough to want to be in the woods as much as possible. And nobody hassled him about it as long as he filed his reports on time. That had taken up most of last evening at the ranger station.

He tossed his cold groceries into an ice-filled cooler in the back of his truck, then headed toward the sheriff’s office. He and Dalton were going to have a little chat about Buddy. Not necessarily a big deal, but Dalton had jurisdiction and might be able to learn more about what Buddy was up to. For his part, Craig was confining himself to hunting for what might be damming some streams while keeping a long-distance bead on the Jackson place. Problem was, his duties were going to carry him farther afield. They always did. It was a big forest he had to keep an eye on, from humans to animals to growing things. He couldn’t stay in one area too long without overlooking other important things.

But now he was concerned about Skylar Jamison. Maybe he should hunt her up and make a strong suggestion that she paint elsewhere. Who knew what kind of paranoia Buddy was ratcheting up with his new friend.

When he got to the sheriff’s office finally, he saw her sitting in the courthouse square with her painting stuff. At least she would be easy to find, and he didn’t have to worry about her being out on that hill before he could talk to her.

Inside, the dispatcher, Velma, sent him straight back to the sheriff, Gage Dalton. Dalton had a small office, his desk overrun by a computer on one side and papers on the other. He almost looked glad for the interruption.

“What can we do for the forest service?” he asked.

Craig dropped into one of the wooden chairs facing the desk. “I’m not exactly certain, but I am uneasy. I’m sure you know Buddy Jackson.”

“Most folks do. And most folks stay clear. It’s not that he’s done anything wrong, he just makes people uneasy with all that doomsday stuff.”

Craig nodded. “I’ve been thinking of it as basically harmless.”

Gage straightened a bit. “But not now?”

“Damned if I know. That’s why I stopped in. Twice this summer he’s tried to chase off visitors. Last month it was a group of campers. Two days ago it was an artist who was sitting across the valley and painting. He called her a spy and told her to go away.”

“Spy?” Gage repeated the word disbelievingly.

“That was my reaction. The word was over-the-top. So I paid Buddy a visit yesterday morning to remind him he can’t drive the public off public land. Just a neighborly reminder, but what I saw bothered me.”

“Such as?”

He told Gage about the Cap guy, the AR-15 and the trip wires. As he did so, Gage began to frown. “I can see why you’re uneasy. And Buddy’s out of your jurisdiction.”

“Exactly. But he’s in yours. Those trip wires especially bother me. They’re just outside his fence, which means they’re most likely still on his land, but you know the law about them.”

“I surely do. Warning only. Well, I guess I’ll have to mosey out that way and have a little chat with Buddy. See if I can do some snooping. The problem with these preppers is that they’re so secretive. They don’t want anybody to really know what they’re up to.”

“Of course not. Innocent folks who haven’t prepared might come looking for help.”

“Only they don’t phrase it that way,” Gage said grimly. “It’s not people looking for help. It’s thieves looking to steal and kill. I didn’t think Buddy had gone quite that far, but I’ll look into it.”

“Thanks. I’ll let you know if I get wind of anything.”

“Same here,” Gage promised.

As he emerged into the main office, Craig glanced out the window and saw that Sky was still sitting in the same place. In fact, it looked as if she hadn’t moved at all.

“You know her?” Velma asked, her voice scratchy from years of smoking.

“I’ve met her.”

“Well, I’m starting to worry. That girl has been sitting out there since early this morning, and she hasn’t moved much since she set up her painting stuff. She’s been sitting like that all day. Think I should send someone over?”

“I’ll go,” Craig said. “I need to talk to her anyway. She’s probably just lost in thought.”

“All this time?” Velma shook her head. “I hope you’re right.”

So did he.

“Sky?”

Startled out of her inner silence, she opened her eyes and saw Craig Stone squatting in front of her. Where had he come from?

“Sky are you all right? I was just in the sheriff’s office across the street, and the dispatcher was getting worried. She says you haven’t moved in hours.”

Talking felt like too much effort, but the concern in those gray eyes managed to touch something inside her. “Relaxing,” she said heavily. It was hard to get the word out. But a tendril of panic began to penetrate her cave. She didn’t want to have to explain what was really going on. She didn’t know if she could. This guy probably wouldn’t even be able to understand.

“No,” he said after a moment.

She watched, still not caring, as he packed up her stuff. “Let’s go,” he said.

“Where?”

“Someplace quiet.”

She couldn’t even work up the energy to argue. The observer scolded her, but she didn’t care. It would pass on its own. It always did.

She didn’t resist as he led her to a forest service truck across the street and helped her in. He tossed her belongings in the back, then climbed in beside her and drove them out of town toward the forest.

“Why?” she managed to ask finally.

“Because I know a thousand-yard stare when I see it.”

Wow. That should have evoked a response, but it didn’t. She drew a breath, a deep one, trying to sync herself to reality again.

“There’s a cabin I’m taking you to,” he continued as if they were having an ordinary conversation. “It’s one we keep for foresters and researchers. I was going to stay there tonight. Got a hankering for a real meal and a real shower. There’s plenty of room, it’s peaceful and nobody will bother you.”

Except him. He’d walked into her cave. Oddly, she didn’t feel any irritation.

Nor did he try to draw her out. The rest of the long drive, he didn’t say a word. The shadows had grown lengthy by the time the truck bumped up to a small cabin in a clearing that was only slightly larger. She saw his horse in a small corral, grazing contentedly.

It wasn’t until he parked and came to help her out that things began to come together again. Chilly pine-scented air and the quiet of the forest reached her. She was coming back.

For the first time since that morning she felt something: a massive wave of relief. The world began to take on depth and reality again, no longer seeming like a colorless play she watched from a distance.

Inside the cabin, she sat in a rustic but well-padded chair while he built a fire in a woodstove. Soon the heat began to reach her, and she took another long breath.

She was back. Looking around, she took in the basic decor, evidence that this was a temporary dwelling used by those who didn’t demand conveniences. He had a lit a few oil lamps and was now heating some cast-iron cookware on top of the woodstove.

“I hope you like steak,” he said. “I’ve got some fresh broccoli I picked up today, but not enough to qualify as a meal.”

“I like steak.”

He turned from the stove. “You’re looking better.”

“Sorry.”

He shook his head. “No apologies.”

“This doesn’t happen anymore. At least not for years now.”

He pulled a bench over and studied her. “Buddy?”

“I guess. I thought I was fine. I went to the square to paint this morning, then...I don’t know. It’s been a long time.”

He nodded, seemed to hesitate as if not sure whether he should press her. Finally he rose again and went to cook dinner.

Delicious smells wafted around her.

“Sorry the mashed potatoes are instant. We have to make some sacrifices, and I wasn’t expecting company when I shopped.”

“That’s fine.” And it was fine. Everything was fine again, fine enough that she stood up. “What can I do to help?”

“You can help later. What I’d like to know is what’s going on with you.”

She supposed she owed him at least something since he’d cared enough to charge in like Lancelot on a white steed. Well, olive forest service truck. “I’m a veteran. It’s been a long time, but sometimes I just...go away inside myself.”

“And Buddy caused that?”

“I can’t say for sure. I haven’t...dissociated like that in years. Maybe it was talking to a veterans group the other night.”

“You did that?”

“I work in rehab with vets at home. Somebody told them I was coming up here and they got in touch with me. Although, it doesn’t bother me at home. I mean, I deal with vets and their problems five days a week. But the thing is, if it was Buddy yelling at me, I should have reacted when it happened.”

He didn’t answer for a minute as he turned the steak and stirred the broccoli. “Maybe it was thinking about coming back out here to paint that set it off.”

“Frankly, it shouldn’t have happened at all. It’s been years!”

“I believe you,” he said quietly. “I’m really sorry it happened. It must have felt like having a rug yanked out from under you.”

His understanding was nothing short of amazing. She said quietly, “It took me years to trust my own mind again.”

“I know.”

“How can you know?”

“I have a brother who never could.”

“Craig...”

“Sh.” He turned from the stove, smiling. “Let’s just enjoy dinner, shall we? You can tell me as little or as much as you want. Or we can talk about all the names of the wildflowers and plants.”

Just like that, reality zipped its seams back together and she laughed. Everything was okay now.

Except for the fear, long buried, that this might happen again.

Chapter 3

After dinner she helped him wash up in a kettle of water he had heated on the stove. The simple task was welcome, and it felt good to be focused again.

The thing was, she didn’t know what to talk to him about. He’d stepped in and rescued her, but he had also seen a weakness in her that embarrassed her.

Yes, she knew it was normal, given where she’d been. It hadn’t happened in a long, long time. There was no reason to think it might happen again anytime soon. But at the same time she had just cratered the trust in herself that she had worked so hard to regain.

He was right about one thing: she felt as if a rug had been pulled out from beneath her feet, and worse, he’d seen her take the pratfall. Not even Hector had ever been faced with that, and they’d lived together.

This guy was a stranger who was now more intimately knowledgeable about her than a guy she had thought she might marry.

Lovely.

He brought out a well-worn pack of cards and they sat at a rough wooden table to play pinochle. They hadn’t been playing very long, however, when he said, “You’re worrying. I can feel it. Worrying isn’t going to help.”

She struggled to meet his gaze. “You don’t understand.”

“Then tell me.”

She resisted the thought of exposing herself in that way. He’d seen too much already, and she didn’t want to lay it all out there where it would be painful even if he didn’t react the wrong way. This wasn’t a therapy session, after all.

“I’m fine,” she said firmly. “Just fine. It won’t happen again.”

He frowned faintly but didn’t press her. “I went over to pay Buddy a visit. I don’t think he’ll bother you again.”

“Thank you.” She hesitated. “It wasn’t that scary, you know. I’ve been through far worse. It was just unexpected and weird.”

“I’ll give you that.”

“I hope I didn’t cause you any trouble.”

He put his cards down and went to get the tin coffeepot from the stove. He topped off both their mugs before putting it back. “Buddy may be causing himself some trouble.”

“What do you mean?” Interested, and now on relatively safe ground, she was able to look at him as he once again sat across from her.

He gave a small shrug. “Well, if I knew exactly what was going on, I’d have a better answer for you. Some things have changed at his place, not for the better, it seems to me. Right now I can’t tell you much except that I did ask the sheriff to pay a visit to get a sense of things.”

Sky hadn’t considered that. “Jurisdictional problems?”

“Buddy’s not part of my forest.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “I can involve myself only when he does something outside his own land.”

“What didn’t you like?”

He sighed, reached for his cup and sipped coffee. “He’s got a new best friend, a guy I didn’t like on sight. That doesn’t happen often. Nor am I usually greeted with an AR-15 when I visit.”

Sky felt a cold twist of apprehension. “That’s not good.”

“It might mean nothing. Buddy’s a prepper.”

“What’s that?”

“Oh, he’s been preparing for Armageddon or the end of the world, or revolution for a few years now. A surprising number of people do, so by itself it doesn’t mean much. Storing up food, learning to live off the land, all that. It’s a quirk, but it’s a harmless quirk for the most part, or at least I thought so with Buddy. He showed me around a couple of years ago, and he’s pretty damn self-sufficient. I was impressed, honestly, although it’s not a way I’d choose to go.”

“But you must be pretty much self-sufficient, as much time as you spend in the woods.”

His smile widened a bit. “I can get by, but that’s short-term. Buddy’s prepared to get through an entire year.”

“Wow. That must be expensive.”

“Some of it is,” he allowed. “But Buddy hunts, makes his own jerky and cans a lot of the produce from his garden. It’s quite an operation and keeps the family awfully busy.” He gave a laugh. “If I were Buddy’s wife, I’d probably be demanding overtime pay.”

“I can see that.” She felt an answering smile curve her mouth. “Children?”

“Six. They all work hard, too, and they’re homeschooled. Nice kids.”

She thought it over. “I don’t see anything wrong with that, if that’s the way you want to go. God knows I’ve seen enough people suffer because they couldn’t be self-sufficient.”

His smile faded. “You’ve been in war, right?”

She nodded. “Iraq.”

“Me, too. See, that’s what bothers me about preppers.”

“How so?”

“They really don’t know what they’re proposing to survive. Buddy might do better than some because he’s in the middle of nowhere, out of line of fire except for nature. But so many of these folks really don’t have the least idea how damaging and chaotic a real war is. How little safety there is for anyone. If we have some really big catastrophe, nobody’s going to be safe. And if any of us are going to survive, we’re not going to do it alone in a mountain stronghold.”

“Probably not,” she admitted. “I’ve talked to enough Afghanistan vets. To be safe, you have to keep moving constantly. Buddy looks pretty well planted in place.”

“Exactly. Anyway, Buddy, if he ever needs to, could probably survive some relatively small social upheaval, but anything major...it’s going to be rough on anyone. And I’ve seen enough of the world to know that survival is more likely when you have a community working together. People helping people, not fighting each other.”

She nodded agreement. “But now he’s got this friend who worries you.”

“Yeah. He goes by the name of Cap.”

Sky chewed her lower lip. “That’s an unusual name. Do you suppose it’s a rank?”

“I’m wondering. And he was the one with the AR-15.”

She met those gray eyes again and felt an unwanted shock of desire. Where had that come from? It was the last thing she needed. She dragged her gaze away and told herself to cut it out. “Militia?” she asked finally, hoping her voice sounded normal.

“It’s possible.” Craig put his cup down and rested his elbows on the table. “Thing is, I don’t know. I didn’t like the look of this Cap, I didn’t like being welcomed with a semiautomatic rifle, and I didn’t like the fact that he’s got trip wires outside his fence now.”

Sky felt color draining from her face. “Trip wires?” She whispered the words. Such things evoked horrifying memories for her. She battered down the blackness that tried to swamp her.

“I reminded him they’re legal only as an alarm. He said that’s all they are, but I don’t know. A year ago, I’d have believed it. Right now, with Buddy getting paranoid enough to bother you and some campers a few weeks ago, I’m not sure of anything anymore. Hence a visit from the sheriff. Sky, maybe you should think about painting somewhere else, away from Buddy.”

She thought about it. She thought about it hard because her first instinct was to get stubborn. She didn’t run from things, but this wasn’t her fight. She’d come out here for peace, not a battle.

But she had run away today inside herself, and she didn’t like that. She had to do something to prove to herself that she could handle things, even the Buddy Jacksons of the world.

“No,” she said finally. “I’m going to paint where I want to paint, and he’d better not bother me again.”

“You don’t have to prove anything.”

“Yes, actually I do. To myself.”

Their gazes met again and locked. Craig returned her stare for a while before finally compressing his lips and nodding. “Okay. He probably won’t bother you again anyway. He knows I know about it, and that means others probably do, too. You should be safe now. But...” He hesitated.

“But you’re concerned about this Cap guy so I should still be careful.”

“You should always be careful alone in the woods.”

Something about the way he said it caused another chill to snake through her. “You’re really worried.”

“I haven’t exactly reached REDCON Three yet, but I’m heading that way.”

She knew exactly what he meant. Half his attention would now be on Buddy’s activities, alert for anything that might pose a threat. “Then I’ll just observe REDCON Three myself. I should be fine.”

“Your call.” He pulled the cards together and tucked them back into the battered box. “I’ve got a spare radio you can use. No cell reception in these mountains, but the radio uses a COMSAT link, so you won’t have any trouble getting in touch with me or the office. It also has a GPS Nav system.”

“Are you sure that’s necessary?”

“Maybe not, but I’m going to insist on it. I need to do some poking around. The water flow in the valley creek has dried up some and I need to find out if any of the feeder streams are blocked. And while I’m out there looking for that, I’m going to put a better eye on Buddy. Something about his place is making me uneasy.”

That sounded odd coming from a man who created a first impression of self-contained serenity. She supposed that she ought to take that as a serious warning.

But for right now, she was just relieved that she’d made a decision, that she was out of her private cave. That made her aware that she owed this man something.

“Thanks for what you did earlier. Bringing me out here.”

His smile was enough to make her melt. “You’d have done the same. Sorry this isn’t the Waldorf.”

“This is perfect. It’s a helluva lot better than a tent in a sandstorm.”

That drew a huge laugh from him, one that caused his eyes to sparkle and tipped his head back. “God, I’ll be happy if I never have to deal with that grit again. Give me dirt any day.”

He brought in two sleeping bags from the truck. “I keep a spare handy in case. I haven’t used this one so you don’t have to worry. Sorry there are no cots.”

“Hey, the ground is great. A floor is even better.”

“Yeah, at least there isn’t a rock in exactly the wrong place.” He spread out both sleeping bags. “No pillows,” he apologized.

“That’s what I have a jacket for.”

“If you want, I’ll take you into town for clothes in the morning. I didn’t even think of stopping to get you a change. Hell, I didn’t even think that you’ll want your car if you decide to stay out here.”

He was nice, she thought as she climbed into the sleeping bag and zipped it up. Very nice. “What about your shower?”

“It can wait. I don’t think I stink too much yet.”

He didn’t stink at all. He smelled like pine and fresh air, with a hint of wood smoke. All of it good.

Their sleeping bags were necessarily close in the tiny cabin, but soon Sky was comfortable, having punched her jacket into the right shape for her head. Firelight seeped out of the stove, casting dancing shadows around the darkened interior of the cabin.

Much nicer than a tent in a sandstorm, she thought. In fact, it would have suited her well for a long time.

She felt peace creeping into her, the serenity she had sensed around him at their first meeting, and she wondered if it was contagious, or if it was just the surroundings.

Everything seemed awfully far away right now, but not the kind of far away she’d experienced earlier. This was ever so much better.

She turned her head and looked at him. Firelight reflected from his eyes, telling her he was staring at the ceiling, his head propped on his saddle.

“Craig?”

“Hmm?

“You mentioned your brother.”

“Yeah.” The fire crackled, and for just a second or two the room grew a little brighter. “I was a marine. He joined up two years after me. I got out just before stop-loss started. He didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He wanted to make it a career. He would have stayed anyway. But it got to be too much for him. He was at war for an awful long time, Sky.”

“Too many were.” She knew the toll that had taken, too. She’d worked with men who’d spent the better part of six or eight years in combat zones. Unimaginable. “Is he getting better?”

“He’s gone.”

She sucked a sharp breath. Words wouldn’t come as her heart started to crack.

“I’m sure he’s better now,” Craig said. Then he turned on his side, giving her his back.

Sky stared at that back for a long time before sleep finally snuck up on her.

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