preserving the beauty of their surroundings. They didnât go to agricultural colleges to learn high-tech farming methods. They use the ways of their forefathers. There are those trying to teach them better ways, but it takes time to get the message across.â
Cara fell silent. Rod slowed his pace and studied her closely. She caught the expression of concern in his eyes. It surprised her.
âYou look as though the heat is getting to you,â he said. âHow about a break?â
Cara looked around her at the devastation and shivered. She shook her head. âNot here.â
He nodded in understanding, and for just an instant the barriers between them seemed to fall away. She detected a sensitivity that lured her as effectively as his physical magnetism.
âWeâll go a little farther, then,â he said.
As they walked on, Cara wished that Rod would go on talking. The uneasy silence that had sprung up between them at the camp had made the whole morning uncomfortable, but almost every attempt she had made at conversation had been ignored or had been met with curt responses.
âWhy did you become an engineer?â she asked when she could bear the silence no longer.
His jaw tightened and for a moment she thought he wouldnât answer. Finally, he said, âI like the challenge. What about you?â
âI wanted to follow in Scottieâs footsteps.â
âThatâs not the best reason Iâve ever heard for choosing a career.â
âNo,â she admitted. âItâs not. But itâs worked out. Iâm actually good at it.â
Rod chuckled. âYou sound surprised.â
âI guess I am. When I was a little girl, everything Scottie did seemed so glamorous and mysterious, so much larger than life and beyond my reach. He was always off in some exotic location. I never understood exactly what he did there, but he obviously loved it a lot.â A familiar wistful feeling came over her, and before she realized what she was saying, she confessed, âI guess I thought if I could do the same thing, maybe he would love me.â
If sheâd expected sympathy or compassion, sheâd chosen the wrong man to confide in.
âYour father always loved you,â Rod said, that odd angry note back in his voice. âMy God, he gave up everything for you.â
Cara flinched inwardly, but she didnât pretend to misunderstand. âYou mean when my mother died.â
âYes.â
Taking a deep breath, she voiced a fear sheâd often had. âYou sound as though you think it was my fault that Scottie came home.â
âWasnât it?â
Hearing the accusation voiced aloud stirred her defenses. âFor heavenâs sake, I was fifteen years old. My mother was dead. What should he have done?â
âYou could have gone away to school. There were relatives who could have taken you in.â
Cara was stunned by the coldness in his voice, the cruel indifference to her feelings. He almost seemed to hate her, and she couldnât imagine why.
âWell?â he persisted. âWerenât there other choices?â
âOkay, I admit it. I suppose I knew I was nothing but a burden to him. There was an aunt who was willing to take me, and there was money enough for boarding school. But he was my father. Donât you think he belonged with me?â she said. Her tone was angry, but the fury couldnât hide a plea for understanding.
All the old feelings of hurt and rejection tore through her. Furiously, she blinked back tears.
Rod appeared unaffected by her vulnerability. âWhy? The relationship certainly hadnât seemed to mean much to you up until then.â
âHow can you say that? I idolized Scottie.â
He gave her a look of total disbelief. âOh, give me a break. What had you or your mother, for that matter, ever done for Scottie? Did you ever really try to understand him? You never once came