Recuperating with Fred

Cindy's spirits lifted when she saw the snow line was six to eight feet out from them; they were safe unless there was a wind change. Wait, don't panic and don't leave this spot until you feel it's safe to do so, she cautioned herself.

An hour later, Cindy gave Daisy some dog biscuits, fed her apple to Tammy and ate her own lunch. Daisy then went to sleep, Tammy looked to be asleep on her feet so Cindy dozed, waking to find snow now thick on the ground but the wind was back to being a breeze and the dark clouds had gone.

Right, which way is the lake? She worked it out and checked and rechecked her reasoning, tightened the saddle and rode towards the south-west and to her where she could see the pale shape of the sun blocked by grey cloud. After ten minutes, Cindy dismounted and opened a gate, then closed it behind her.

Remounting she became aware she was riding through a field of cattle. Daisy trotted ahead and the cattle in front of her lowered their heads but back away. About ten minutes later Cindy came to another fence and riding along it came to another gate. When going to open it she knew exactly where she was as the gate to tied shut by a piece of string.

Coming off the path bordering the land she diverted to a smaller track that she recognised by the trees and up on to a hillock, Cindy looked over to the farmhouse and saw about twenty vehicles and two helicopters on the flat outside the farmhouse and men grouped in a huddle looking at something - maps perhaps?

Her throated turned dry. She shouted, or tried to. This was a search party had gathered at Fred's farmhouse and was about to start looking for her, for her body perhaps.

"Daisy," she called, her voice flowed back towards normal volume. "Go, go to Fred; go home Daisy!"

Without looking at her Daisy took off like grease lightening. Never had Cindy seen a dog run so fast.

She kicked Tammy into a canter but they were no match for Daisy. From the distance she saw Daisy burst through the gathering and leap at Fred, slamming her paws against his chest. She saw Fred look up and spotted her, pointing at her and shouting something, and everyone turned around to watch her on Tammy.

Cindy saw Fred punch the air above his head with his fists, and she was close enough to hear him scream: "She did it, she did the right thing."

Just managing to slow Tammy as the people parted, Cindy launched herself out of the saddle and into Fred's arms.

"Good girl, oh good girl," he called. She was quite sure he was almost ready to shed a tear or two.

Cindy pulled away from him and addressed the gathering.

"Sorry guys," then noticing three women, "And gals. I'm rather a greenhorn and failed to notice the storm coming. I do apologise. Please give me chits for your expenses and I'll pay up, with my full appreciation. I owe my life to a great dog and a wonderful horse and the lee of a hayshed."

"Nah, we don't want nothing, this is what mates are for," said a burly man in an old fashion leather flying helmet.

"Yeah this is what mates are for," chorused others.

Cindy whispered to Fred who shrugged and nodded.

"I've been asked to invite you all to the pub tonight for drinks on the house and supper, and you're to bring your families. Cindy will pick up the tab."

"Alec, you're the publican, can you get a Special Licence to allow us to run to say 2 am?"

"Nah, not enough time to get it approved."

"This is a special occasion, celebrating a community coming together in time of need, and one life saving herself. I'm prepared to turn a blind eye and join you," said the local law officer who Cindy would learn was Constable Eric Chivers.

"Okay guys shove off, this young lady has to rub her horse down, feed it and stable it as Tammy doesn't deserve to be turned out into pasture as another couple of fronts are due overnight, bringing more snow. Thanks again guys, see you all with your families any time from 7.30 pm."

"Rub Tammy down at the stables. You'll find some old towels in the tack-room. Towel her hard and talk to her. I'll wave our guests off the property and will take care of Daisy."

"No, I'll look after Daisy. She's mine for as long as I stay here!"

"Christ, you sound like my long-dead missus," Fred grinned. "As you wish and when you've finished up come inside and get some food down you. You've got a big night ahead of you. All the wives will want to meet Miss Wonder Woman from Hollywood and the guys will want to see if you have boobs."

"Fuck off, Fred and make my real coffee and a sandwich. Notice how I used the word in context?"

Chapter 4

Cindy entered the farmhouse kitchen feeling exhausted, both animals having enjoyed the attention heaped on them.

"Hug me," Fred.

"Okay, Cindy but be aware I don't become intimate with clients for professional reasons including their vulnerability."

Cindy was appalled.

"B-b-but you had sex with Gloria Fisher."

"Um, that was after her recuperation visit. She came back and we met in Auckland."

"You mean she flew all the way back to New Zealand after returning home just to meet you in a hotel room?"

"Yes, we had twelve hours together before she returned home."

"That is unbelievable; no woman in her right mind would travel 6500 miles one-way just for that."

"But Gloria looked at it differently. She'd worked from the age of seven to become successful in movies, Cindy. Then within eighteen months of getting to the top it all began turning to custard. She was mixing with the wrong people, mixing her drinks, not enough sleep, drugs - you name it. Her career slumped, two big contracts were cancelled and she went nutters."

"She came to me and the cottage and just as you've done already, she re-established a connection with herself. I pushed her into learning to ride, to ski to muster sheep to swim in the lake with ice floating on the water and she went home and slayed them on with one of the most memorable auditions Hollywood has seen in the past fifty years"

"She held up filming of 'A Determined Englishwoman' to come back to New Zealand to give me a little thank you present."

"How utterly romantic. Only a great star would do something like that."

"Eat and drink up Cindy, then go to sleep in the spare room. I'll wake you at 6:15."

"But I've got nothing to wear."

"I have a wardrobe of dresses, dresses my clients have left because they wanted to cram their suitcases with souvenirs. You are welcome to any of them. Before Bill left a few minutes ago I asked if Mary would do your hair, she's an ex-hairdresser. He said no sweat, Mary was itching to meet you. She'll have almost an hour to make you look pretty."

"You could have died out there late this morning Cindy."

"I know," she said, beginning to shake. "But I'm cured, Fred. When I realized my predicament, I found I had no wish to die and it wasn't just preservation. I knew I have more to give that it was just not time to die. I calmed myself and worked out what I had to do. I had that serene feeling back, a feeling I haven't experienced in years, probably since my late teen years."

"That's good; we can book you a flight home if that's what you want."

"I'm staying the full thirty days and want the full program, Fred; I want my recovery cemented in."

* * *

The party was magnificent, just happy people out to have a fun night. Initially many of the guest were disappointed to find that Cindy wasn't a film star but specialized in ghost-writing memoirs for celebrities and she also wrote romance novels and scripts for movies.

The constable's wife said she'd not come across a novel written by Cindy Hungerford.

"No are who would like at a novel written by someone called Hungerford. I'm published under my penname of Della C. Ford.

"Omigod," shouted Beth Chivers, Cindy publishes under the name of Della C. Ford.

There were gasps from readers of the local book club familiar with Della C. Ford's hot romances, they told women near them and they surrounded Cindy excitedly.

"What's the fuss about?" Fred asked Eric.

"Beth is a voracious reader and I know when I come to bed and she's been reading Della C. Ford's latest tear-jerker we'll have over-the-top sex."

"But they are only words on paper. Aren't women gullible."

Eric smiled knowingly and said he'd said something like that to his wife and she said the difference was most hot female writers described their heroes as curly blond and muscular with a touch of arrogance whereas Della C. Ford would have her slender hero slipped like an eel between the thighs of the heroine who would be lifted into raptures by the touch of his thin moustache sending the sensors around her vulva crazy."

"Vulva Eric, is that..."

"Spot on mate."

"And is that why you've grown a moustache?"

"Mate let that remain our secret. Let's have another beer."

Later when Fred took a wedge of pizza from a plate held by Cindy, she whispered, "My experience here will be the basis for my next novel. It will blow your mind."

The End