Tears of the Renegade by Linda Howard

couldn’t take that, nor could her conscience allow her to so abandon her morals.
    She got through the day, and somehow avoided Preston when he tried to pin her down at lunch. He didn’t want her to sacrifice anything, and Imogene would also object. She’d have to stay one step ahead of both of them, and she meant to do that by seeing Cord as soon as possible. She made the necessary phone calls to get the geological survey in progressand grimly ignored the thought that now she couldn’t let any ecological damage to the area matter.
    By afternoon a weak sun was trying to break through the cloud layer, and a brisk wind had sprung up. Would Cord be working on the old cabin at Jubilee Creek? If he wasn’t, she had no idea where to find him. She’d deliberately tried not to listen to all the gossip about him these past few weeks, and now she wished instead that she’d absorbed every word; at least then she might have an idea of where he was. She could ask Preston, but she knew what fireworks that would set off, so she decided simply to try her luck at Jubilee Creek.
    She left early, because she wasn’t certain of her memory of the location of the cabin. Secondary roads wound through the region like grape runners, crisscrossing each other and meandering in no particular direction, it sometimes seemed. Vance had taken her to the Jubilee Creek area a few times, early in their marriage, but that had been years ago.
    Suddenly the sun brightened, as the wind pushed the clouds away, and she squinted against the sudden glare of sun on the wet highway. Reaching above the visor, she grabbed her sunglasses and quickly slid them on. Perhaps the sun was an omen; then she made a face at herself at the frivolous thought. She didn’t believe in omens.
    She was nervous, her stomach queasy at the thought of dealing with him, and to take her mind off of it she tried to concentrate on the passing scenery. The weather might be chilly, but there were signs of spring after all, even discounting the stubborn jonquils. Oak trees had that fuzzy look conveyed by new leaves, and patches of green grass were shooting up. In another week, two at the most, color would be rioting over the land as shrubs and trees bloomed, and it couldn’t happen soon enough for her. It was already what she counted as a late spring.
    She almost missed the turn onto the narrow road that she thought was the correct one. It was only a roughly paved secondary road, without benefit of a painted centerline or graded shoulders. She slowed down, looking for the next turn, and just when she had almost decided that she’d taken the wrong road, she recognized the turn she was supposed to take. It was an unpaved lane that was really only two tracks, crowded on both sides by tall, monolithic pines and sweeping oaks that rapidly hid the secondary road from view. The lane made a long curve; then she found herself rattling across an old wooden bridge that spanned Jubilee Creek itself.
    The rain had filled the broad, shallow creek, and the muddy water tumbled over the rocks and around the meandering curves as the creek snaked its way south to empty eventually into the Gulf. She could see the cabin now, a small structure dwarfed by three massive oaks behind it, capping the crest of a small rise. Even from where she was, it was evident that the porch that ran the length of the cabin was completely new, and as she drew closer she could see that the roof was also new, shingles replacing the rusted tin that had been there before.
    She didn’t know what kind of car he drove, but it didn’t matter anyway, since there was no sign of any vehicle. Her heart sank. She slowed her own car to a stop in front of the cabin, staring at the curtainless windows in despair. Where could she find him?
    She was just about to put the car in reverse when the door opened and he stepped onto the porch. Even from that distance she could see the icy glare of his eyes, and she