Free Expect the Sunrise by Susan May Warren Page A

well after noon, and no one except her father knew she was headed to Disaster. Officials in Prudhoe Bay, not to mention her experienced father, could easily surmise, with the temperamental weather, that Andee had landed to wait it out. If she guessed the time correctly, it was nearly four, with night descending fast.
    Her thoughts tumbled over each other and threatened to steal her breath, her action. Make a fire. Determine your assets. Concoct a plan .
    She breathed through the cascade of events, piecing them out, weighing her priorities. Get the injured inside.
    “Mr. McRae, can you help me move Sarah inside?” She turned around and was surprised to see him standing arms akimbo, staring at her. As if before she’d even spoken, he’d already been fixed on her, studying her with a pensive expression. He’d put a fleece pullover on under his lined canvas jacket. The wind shifted and tangled his hair, and she couldn’t put out of her mind the image of some outlaw from the days of legends and Wild West cowboys—or maybe the age of lairds and wars with England and Robert the Bruce. He certainly had the aura of a man on edge.
    She’d make sure he slept on the other side of the cave tonight.
    “Mr. McRae?”
    He raised an eyebrow as if only just now hearing.
    “Can you help me lift Sarah?”
    “I’ll help.” Phillips appeared from the shelter and took one end of Sarah’s board. Before Andee could react, McRae grabbed the other end. They carefully maneuvered Sarah into the shelter, while Andee helped Flint. She hated his moans, wishing she had something to give him—even whiskey at this point.
    But she needed clear heads and cooperation, and whiskey didn’t exactly encourage sane behavior.
    Inside the shelter, the barest of lights lingered to outline faces as people clumped around Sarah and Flint, tucking in their legs so as not to jostle them. The ground, wet from the sleet, felt like a sponge, and dampness seeped into her knees. They needed dry ground. And they needed to eat.
    Yes, she needed to figure out what to do if the ELT didn’t call in rescuers. Heaviness loomed over the quiet shifting of snow overhead. Andee tried not to let it find her spirit, but as she slumped against the boulder near the opening, feeling the wind flap the edges of the shelter, she fought the sudden burn of tears. I’m in over my head here, Lord. Way over my head. Please help me.
    “We need to get supper going,” she said softly. No one moved. Not that she expected them to, but still, if Micah and Conner were here, they’d already have a blaze heating the shelter like a cabin in the north woods.
    No, that wasn’t fair. Micah and Conner had been Green Berets, and Phillips and McRae had both obeyed her instructions without grumbling. Sorta.
    But with Micah and Conner she felt safe. Even if the world fell in, they’d be there to help hold it up.
    As the wind whistled through the opening and Sarah breathed quietly and five pairs of eyes peered at Andee through the darkness, she had the sudden and overwhelming urge to let weariness overtake her, to put her hands over her head and hide.
    Andee had tried to hide from her misery after the high drama of watching her life shatter, the day when her family finally fell apart, when her mother had packed her bags and Andee’s and demanded that Gerard fly them to Fairbanks so they could check out of his life. Andee had felt numb as she watched her father fly away, leaving them on a wet and cold tarmac, seeing the only life she’d ever known or loved disappear with him.
    In the childish places of her heart, she had just wanted someone to tell her that someday, somehow, this nightmare might end, that they might be a family again, that everything would be all right. Sort of like she felt now. Please, Lord.
    “Nina, hand me the stove. I’ll show you how to light it.” Andee took the stove from her and dug out the canister of gas from her duffel bag. She lit the stove with her lighter, adjusted