Darling Jenny Read Online Free Page A

tightrope walker balancing on the high wire.
    It felt as if they had covered miles as Jennifer glanced around Logan's shoulder to see the house still some distance ahead of them. She was out of breath and the numbing cold grabbed at her legs, making her steps awkward and clumsy. Then she stumbled, falling on her knees into the snow.
    'I'm so cold,' she panted as Logan pulled her out of the snow and brushed away at the snow clinging to her skirt and legs. 'I can hardly catch my breath.'
    'It's the altitude,' he muttered with an expression of self-disgust. 'We're probably around seven thousand feet.'
    Without asking permission, he swept her up into his arms. Jennifer had no strength to refuse. She was just grateful to hold exhaustedly on to his shoulder, as he carried her to the house.
    She was disappointed when they were finally close enough for the snow to cease obscuring their vision. It was just a log cabin, not a house, a forlorn little building sitting isolated amidst the trees that poked their white-covered heads over the roof. She glanced at Logan's face to see his reaction, but there was none. They had barely reached the doorstep when the door swung open.
    Standing in the opening was a lean, gaunt old man, his face covered by a growth of greyish-white hair with matching strands sticking out from the cap on his head. His shoulders were stooped and bent beneath the red flannel shirt he wore. As Logan stepped closer, Jennifer saw that the youthful flames in the old man's dark eyes denied that the fires of life were even thinking of dying. There was anything but welcome in his expression as he glared out at them.
    'What in tarnation do you want?' he fairly roared at Logan.
    'My jeep got stuck in the snow out by the road,' Logan replied easily, ignoring the hostility that had greeted him. 'I noticed the smoke coming out of your chimney, and I thought we might impose on you for some shelter tonight.'
    'You're a pair of damn fools to be out in weather like this!' He grudgingly opened the door wider and stepped to one side so they could enter. 'Might as well come in before she freezes to death in that get-up.'
    Logan thanked him sincerely as he stepped through the door and set Jennifer on her feet. His eyes twinkled merrily as he saw the apprehensive expression on her face.
    'Ain't much, ain't got nothin' much, but you're welcome to stay.' The backhanded invitation was given in a growly and irritated voice.
    When Jennifer's eyes adjusted from the light outside to the dimness of the cabin, her first reaction was, this is it, one room, four walls, that's all! Then the immaculate cleanness struck her. The wood floors reflected the flames burning in the fireplace across the room and the little table sitting in the middle was covered with a bright red checked cloth. On the wall to the right of the fireplace was a sparkling white porcelain monstrosity, its chrome handles shining from the light of the fire. Even the black circles on top seemed to glow from hand-rubbed care. It was a stove, one of those huge, wood-burning stoves. The wood cabinets, on the wall where the door was, gleamed with care. The bed on the left had a brightly coloured quilt thrown over it.
    'Want some help with your boots, Jenny?' Logan offered, his voice tearing her attention away from the cosy room.
    'No, thank you,' she shook her head, bending down to her task as Logan turned back to their host.
    'The name is Logan Taylor. I own the Box T spread on the south Gros Ventre Range. This is Jenny Glenn. We really appreciate you taking us in like this.'
    'Taylor, you say? Seems like I know your old man. Used to be a fair hunter, didn't he?' the man commented, inspecting Logan closely. 'I don't hold with huntin' for pleasure. They oughta make people eat what they kill.'
    'My father passed away several years ago, but he used to hunt quite a lot,' Logan agreed, shedding his coat. 'He always said there was nothing quite as good as a juicy venison steak.'
    'Humph!' the