Mountains Apart. Carol Ross

had to win. The alternative was unthinkable. This town, this valley, was his lifeblood. His living depended on the pristine wilderness—clean, pure water where the fish thrived and the unspoiled country where wildlife teemed. Sure, he guided fishermen to the best fishing of their lives and he helped hunters pursue their dream trophies, but he was careful to do it in a way that respected the ecosystem.

      He’d gone away to college in Anchorage and majored in environmental science and business, and he had done so with every intention of coming back to Rankins. He knew how fragile the balance between nature and man could be. In addition to volunteering for environmental cleanups, he also contracted with the Department of Fish and Game for the surveying of big game and predator numbers and the reporting of any threat to them that might arise. Bering was convinced that he’d never seen a greater threat than Cam-Field.

      His father and his grandfather before him had made their livings by fishing commercially, but Bering had possessed a different vision from a very young age. He had rebelled against everyone who had told him he could never make a go of a guiding and outfitter business in this remote of a location. But he’d worked hard and he’d done it. And in the process, the business that he’d created continually generated new business for the town. His customers shopped at the local grocery store, they bought gear at Les Hartley’s sporting-goods store, they ate at the restaurants, they bought art from local artisans to take back home and on it went. And when they returned to their own unique corners of the world, they talked about James Guide and Outfitter Service, and they talked about the hospitality and the accommodations they enjoyed in Rankins.

      Bering had no trouble with outsiders—tourists were his bread and butter. But the kind of people he wanted to come to Rankins weren’t the ones who worked for Cam-Field Oil & Mineral.

      Now he watched Emily working the room and felt his concern shift solidly back to where it belonged—to Rankins.

      Emily—eaten alive? Yeah, right.

      Bering stood back and half listened as Wally Crumrind, the town’s pharmacist, raved about his new snow machine. He watched from the corner of his eye as Emily approached a small group of Chamber members, a couple of whom also happened to serve on the town council. He thought about going over and smoothly weaving his side into the discussion, but before he could extricate himself from the conversation he was having, he realized that she’d beaten him to it. In fact, he soon saw, they were all talking and laughing as though they were old friends. What was going on?

      As the event continued to unfold, Bering felt his concern solidify into something even more ominous. Emily had called it, but he’d been too blinded by something—concern, curiosity, his own confidence—to see it. He was scared. Gone was the inattentive and scatterbrained woman he’d first met a few days ago, gone was the vulnerable and lost girl from the hospital, and gone was the questionably capable business executive with the understated sexiness that he’d come to know in the past few days.

      In her place was a charming and professional, confident and articulate executive from Cam-Field Oil & Mineral. And it struck him right then and there that he’d vastly underestimated Emily Hollings on the professional front. If he didn’t know better, he would think he’d been good and thoroughly snowed. Bering felt a shift in his entire being; a knot formed in his stomach as Tag’s words of warning came back to him. For the first time since meeting her, he wondered if he really might be in trouble after all.

      As she wrapped up the last of her speech, which had come off like more of a fireside chat, Bering knew without a doubt that Emily was a great deal more than good at her job. He was watching men and women he’d known all his life eating out of her hand like ponies at the petting zoo. She was charming and witty and, worst of all, full of statistics and dollar signs and promises of high-paying jobs and “community improvements.” And she’d pulled the hospital card. Rankins was in desperate need of updated medical facilities, and she’d basically just promised a few million of Cam-Field’s pocket change to the cause if the permitting process was successful.

      And while Bering was relieved and, he grudgingly admitted to himself, impressed, he was also terrified. It was as if he’d been deluged by a bucket of ice-cold water. What was wrong with him? What had he been thinking?

      Tag was right—Emily was Cam-Field in the flesh, and in spite of whatever personal concerns he may have had for her as a woman, the executive was going to have to be stopped. Cam-Field still had to be stopped. As the crowd began dispersing, Bering stood up and slipped silently from the room.

      He looked from one end of the empty hallway to the other and quickly walked to the receptionist’s station, which currently stood empty. He plucked the telephone off the desk and rapidly tapped out a long-distance call.

      “Jack? Hey, it’s me, Bering. Listen, I’m calling about the situation here in Rankins.... Uh-huh, yeah, I think we may have vastly underestimated the, uh, threat here....”