Diamond Bay Read Online Free PDF Page A

once he didn't shy away from her touch. She
spread the quilt on the sand, then knelt once again to brace her hands against
the man's limp body. She rolled him onto the quilt. This time he didn't make a
sound, and she was grateful he couldn't feel the pain she had to cause him.
    It took her a few minutes to get him positioned; then she had to
rest. She stared uneasily at the sea again, but it was still empty. There was
no one out there, though it wasn't unusual to see the night lights of passing
boats. Joe brushed against her legs, growling again, and she gathered her strength. Then she leaned down, gathered the two corners of the quilt
nearest the man's head and dug her heels into the sand. She grunted with the
strain; even with her entire weight thrown into the effort, it was all she
could do to drag him a few feet. God, he was heavy!
    Maybe when she got him off the beach and onto the slippery pine
needles it would be easier. If it got much harder she wouldn't be able to budge
him at all. She'd known it would be difficult, but she hadn't realized it would
be almost beyond her physical capabilities. She was strong and healthy, and his
life depended on her. Surely she could drag him up to her house, even if she
had to do it an inch at a time!
    That was almost what it amounted to. Even when she managed to get
him off the beach, although the pine needles were slippery and the quilt slid
over them more easily, her path was uphill. The incline wasn't steep, and she
normally walked it easily, but it might as well have been vertical for the
effort it took her to drag a two-hundred-pound man up it. She couldn't sustain
her forward progress for any length of time at all. She lunged and lurched,
falling to her knees several times. Her lungs were pumping and wheezing like
bellows, and her entire body was one big ache before she had him halfway up the
slope. She stopped for a moment and leaned against a pine, fighting the
inevitable nausea of overexertion. If it hadn't been for the tree supporting
her, she might not have been able to stand at all, because her legs and arms
were trembling wildly.
    An owl hooted somewhere close by, and the crickets chirped on
undisturbed; the events of the night meant nothing to them. Joe hadn't left her
side, and every time she stopped to rest he crowded against her legs, which was
totally unlike him. But
he wasn't pressing against her for protection; rather, he was
protecting her, putting himself between her and the man. Rachel took a deep breath and steeled herself for another effort,
patting Joe on the side and saying, "Good boy, good boy."
    She reached down to take hold of the quilt again, and Joe did
something extraordinary; he caught the edge of the quilt between his teeth and
growled. Rachel stared at him, wondering if he'd taken it in his head to
prevent her from dragging it any farther. Cautiously she braced her shaky legs,
then leaned back and pulled with every ounce of strength left in her. Still
growling, Joe braced his legs and pulled, too, and with his strength added to
hers the quilt slid forward several feet.
    Rachel stopped in amazement, staring at the dog. "Good
boy," she said again. "Good boy!" Had it been a fluke, or would
he do it again? He was a big, strong dog; Honey Mayfield had estimated that he
weighed almost eighty pounds. If he could be coaxed into pulling with her, she
could have the man up the slope in no time.
    "Okay," she whispered, taking a better grip on the
quilt. "Let's see if you'll do it one more time." She pulled, and Joe
pulled, that low growl still rumbling in his throat, as if he disapproved of
what she was doing, but would help her if she was determined to do it.
    It was much easier with the dog's help, and soon they were out of
the pine thicket, with only the dirt road and the small yard to cross before
they reached the house. Rachel straightened and stared at the house, wondering
how she would ever get him up the two steps to the porch. Well, she'd gotten
him