to his brief and unstellar career as a disc jockey in the nightclubs before he made it in arbitrage. No one had ever told him the initials stood for Dirk the Jerk. Not hard to guess how he earned that name. Kent suppressed a grimace.
A half hour later, he helped Mrs. Barrington into the wagon. At her insistence, she was the last to climb aboard.
The dainty woman awarded him a large smile. “Thank you, sir,” she said, “And please call me Nina. I can see you are among the last of the true gallants. I believe you have impressed even my headstrong daughter with your courtesy and service.”
Kent shut the wagon door and shook his head. Impressed Lauren Carter? Aggravated would be more accurate. He seemed to have a gift for pushing her buttons.
He headed back toward town with the wagonload of people and supplies. Dirk Dixon plodded alongside him, wearing a scowl. Fat chance the guy would help him pull.
They arrived back at the abandoned general store to the tune of lively hammering. Was it possible the former inhabitants had left tools behind? Might there be other survival treasures lying around, too?
Kent smiled as he helped his passengers out of the wagon. Everyone—even Dirk—carried a load of food and other supplies inside the store. Kent placed himself last in line and stopped short just over the threshold.
Someone had brought order out of hodgepodge. He could about guess who. The fixed counter that sat on one side of the open area, as well as the moveable shelving, appeared to have been wiped off, though the floor remained thick with dust due to lack of a broom. The shelving had been arranged to afford both organized storage and a margin of privacy between the bulk of the room and the most critically injured passengers. He caught a glimpse of Lauren kneeling beside Mags, taking her pulse.
A fire blazed in the stove, and the building was already much warmer than when he’d left about an hour ago. Cushions were arranged on the floor around the stove to allow a little seating comfort up off the dirt on the floor.
Kent deposited his load of food and beverages on the glass-fronted shelving unit that was fixed to the floor and had probably served as the checkout counter. He gazed around at broken windows being covered with what looked like thin slabs of wood. Cliff turned from one of the windows and held up a shiny nail and a partially rusted crowbar, now serving as a hammer.
He grinned. “Found a sealed box of these.” He wagged the nail. “And some old, empty crates in the back storage room. Busted up the crates. Found this on the floor,” he lifted the crowbar, “and, voilà, wooden curtains.”
“And I found these,” Phil said, pointing to a pair of oil lamps on the counter. “No kerosene, though.” He frowned.
“Maybe we’ll run across some,” Nina said and patted his arm. “Or some candles. In the meantime, I believe we are all due a break. How about some of these peanuts and pretzels and a soft drink for everyone?”
No one turned her down, especially not Kent. But water was his preferred beverage after all the exertion, and he wasn’t done yet. One more trip today.
“We need to go get the luggage,” he said. “The stove and wooden curtains are great, but we’re still going to need our jackets and probably dress in layers to stay warm.”
Lauren came around the wall of shelving and grabbed a bottle of water. Her clothes were dusty, and dirt smudged one cheek. Weariness etched small lines around her big, green eyes. How come the disarray, brought about by trauma and compassion, emphasized her attractiveness far more than Elspeth’s haute couture ever had?
Lauren’s gaze caught his, and his heart did a stupid skippy thing. A motion with her water bottle beckoned him to follow her. She led him into her makeshift hospital. Richard Engle had his eyes closed and appeared to be lying comfortably, though his leg was raised, resting on an extra cushion, and his knee was immobilized in bulky wrappings. The blood had been washed from Mags’s face, and a towel-wrapped cold pack pressed against a spot on her head, but her complexion was waxen. She lay unnaturally still. Kent swallowed a lump in his throat.
“I managed to put Rich’s kneecap back in place,” Lauren said, “but Mags needs a doctor and a modern hospital immediately. I believe she’s hemorrhaging inside her skull, which puts life-threatening pressure on her brain. Don’t you think it’s about time we know what chance there is of rescue happening anytime soon?”
Kent nodded. “Step out here. I’ll talk to all of you at the same time.”
They went back to the counter where the others were still snacking, and Kent cleared his throat. Attention was instantaneous and electric.
“I wish I could tell you that we will be rescued any minute now.”
Dirk barked a laugh. “All these housekeeping preparations pretty much told us we’re not looking for anyone today. So when is the cavalry coming? Tomorrow? Any later than that, and I can tell you it’s going to cost Peerless One, and me personally, a bundle. That’s unacceptable. We need to be—”
“Shut up!” Neil growled. “Lives are more important than the next stock trade. How many companies do we represent here? At least three. But I guarantee you, in the big picture, our no-show within the next few days will wind up a minor hiccup in the big scheme of business. I’m on the fast track toward retirement, but I’ve been digging in my heels about taking the plunge. This little adventure has convinced me that it’s time to let go of work, work, work, and enjoy life. When we return to civilization, my company will have to bid me sayonara for good.”
“Everyone, hush, please.” Lauren’s voice quivered like a plucked violin string. “Right now, our pilot is the only one who has anything to say that we need to hear.”
Kent’s heart hovered somewhere around his toes. If only he could tell them what they wanted to hear. But truth was the only commodity worth trading in at this moment.
“I’ve flown under a lot of adverse conditions, but I’ve never heard of or experienced anything like what happened up there. My instruments, including the radio, went out in the blink of an eye. Something catastrophic happened to the plane.”
“The explosion.” Cliff jabbed the air with a nail. “Accidental malfunction or—”
“A bomb!” The hysterical edge had returned to Phil’s voice. “Terrorists tried to kill us!”
“Whoa!” Kent held up a quieting hand. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Tomorrow I’ll go over every inch of the plane, and then I might know more.” His gaze skimmed the expectant faces. “But here’s the thing. I can fly and land a plane without instruments. Had to do it under extremely tough conditions and on challenging terrain when I was in the air force, but I cannot promise to resurrect that radio. And even if I did, I have my doubts it would be able to communicate with the outside world.”
“Why not?” Dirk demanded.
Kent pulled a small compass out of his pocket. He held it up so they could see the needle jumping all over the place. “The rocks coating the ground are taconite. I’m pretty sure this area was mined for iron. If there’s enough metal around to confuse my compass, there’s probably plenty left to scramble a radio signal. Maybe even to keep any signal from leaving this valley.”
Phil wrung pudgy hands. “What about that black box thingy we hear about on the news? Doesn’t that send a signal to a satellite when a plane crashes?”
“Same problem.”
“In plain speech,” Lauren said, tone flat, “no one knows where we are, and no one is coming to rescue us.”
The proverbial pin-drop would easily have broken the silence. A nail plummeted from Cliff’s hand and hit the floor with a noise like a sonic boom.
“Why can’t a few of us just hike out of here and send help for the rest of you?” Neil’s matter-of-fact tone breathed sanity back into the atmosphere. “This was a town. There must be a road in and out.”
Kent frowned. “Unfortunately,