Page 18 of Echoes of Twilight (Dawn of Alaska #4)

18

S now came to the valley the next morning. It wasn’t a blizzard like they would have faced at the top of the mountain, but it still slowed down their progress. Mikhail built a fire at lunchtime that day and the next, giving the team a chance to warm their fingers and toes so they didn’t develop frostbite.

The group was quiet, with each of the men taking a turn carrying the trunk, and everyone falling into bed exhausted at the end of a long day. By lunchtime on the second day, they were growing closer to the Iskut River, maybe even close enough to reach it by nightfall.

Or at least that’s what Mikhail had been hoping, but then they reached a place where two mountains met in a rocky pinch, their slopes converging in a narrow pass where deep drifts of snow had settled. They didn’t need to trek up another mountain to reach the river, but they did need to navigate through the valley and up the rocky slope leading out of it.

He set down the front of the trunk at the edge of the forest and carefully scanned the landscape. They had two options. They could stick to the high side of the ravine and look for a place where the snow was less deep before trying to cross. Or they could plow ahead, using whatever energy they had left to get across the drifts and see how close that got them to the river.

Heath set down the rear of the trunk and wiped his forehead with the back of his glove. “Call me lazy, but I really don’t want to try crossing that.”

“I thought you said at lunch that you were hoping we could make it to the river before dark.” Bryony tromped up beside them, her breath puffing white in the icy air. “Isn’t the river just over the next rise? Surely you don’t want to stop when we’re so close.”

Mikhail didn’t know how close they were, not exactly. He scanned the slopes again, waiting for Dr. Wetherby, Dr. Ottingford, and Richard to reach them before he pointed to the left side of the valley, which appeared to have a gentler incline. “I think our best option is to cross the pass here and take the western route on the other side. It won’t be as steep on our ascent, but the snow is going to be deep in the middle.”

“I still say we camp for the night and cross in the morning.” Heath bent forward and rested his arms on his legs, still trying to catch his breath after carrying the trunk. “I’m tired.”

“I want to press on,” Dr. Wetherby said, even though his chest was heaving just as hard as Heath’s. “I’d like to get as close to the river as possible tonight. Richard? Ottingford? What do you say?”

Mikhail agreed with Dr. Wetherby, but he wasn’t going to push the team. If the party was too exhausted to cross the snow-filled ravine, they might be better off resting and crossing it tomorrow, even if it meant the snow would be deeper.

“I say we at least attempt to cross.” Dr. Ottingford readjusted his wire-rimmed spectacles to survey the area. “If it becomes too difficult, we can head back here to the trees and set up camp.”

“If we try to cross, then I’ll need someone else to carry the trunk.” Heath dipped his head toward the heavy burden. “I’m exhausted.”

“The snow will only be deeper tomorrow. I say we try to cross now too.” Richard picked up the back of the trunk, then nodded toward Mikhail to heft the front.

Mikhail lifted it by the rope handle. “Since no trees are growing here, I’m assuming rock lies beneath the snow. Look out for any boulders or crevices that might be buried.” The last thing they needed was a broken leg this close to the river.

He started off by heading southwest, straight down into the snow piled in the deepest part of the valley. The moment he left the shield of trees, wind barreled into him, rushing through the rocky tunnel that the valley created. He ducked his head against it, raising his legs higher as the snow grew deeper.

They trudged onward for over an hour. Eventually the snow grew so deep that they pushed the trunk across the surface rather than carrying it, but somehow they managed to avoid any large boulders or other dangers.

Then they began the trek up the other side. It was grueling. Even though the snow gradually lessened, the slope was steep enough that they had to pause for several breaks. Mikhail found himself breathing hard, and the wind drove a constant barrage of snow into his face. But they pressed forward, stopping when needed as the drifts gradually became smaller.

But when they finally reached the bare spot he’d seen from the opposite side of the valley, they found patches of ice and frozen snow littering the next part of the slope. He gripped the trunk even harder, keeping his eyes riveted on the rocky ground as he wove his way up to the top of the incline.

His muscles burned and his lungs fought for breath against the lashing wind. But then he crested the slope, and the world fell away to reveal a thick green valley with a silvery strip of water snaking its way through the trees.

Thank you, Father. They were so very close now. All they had to do was reach the river and paddle their canoes downstream until the Iskut met the Stikine and turned toward the ocean.

He set down the trunk and reached for his canteen. “Do you see the river there in the distance?”

Richard set the back of the trunk down and took a sip of water from his own canteen, his shoulders heaving.

“I wondered if I’d ever see it again.” Bryony came up beside him, her chest also rising and falling in quick, deep breaths as she scanned the valley below. Then she reached out and gripped his sleeve. “Thank you. I don’t think any of us would have made it if not for you.”

Their eyes caught. Behind them he could hear Dr. Wetherby and Dr. Ottingford congratulating each other, but Mikhail couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from Bryony. He’d promised her he’d get her safely back to Sitka, and now the hardest part of their journey was over.

He wasn’t sure whether he should pick her up and twirl her around or hug her. Or even lean down and press his lips to?—

“I’m just as happy as the rest of you that we can see the river,” Heath said over the others. “But how are we going to get across that giant crack in the mountain?”

“What crack?” Mikhail dragged his gaze away from Bryony, only to find Heath pointing at a fissure running through the mountain. It was hard to see at first, with the wind whipping into their faces and the ground covered in another blanket of white.

But it was there, partway down the side of the incline, right in front of where the trees started again.

Mikhail headed toward it, carefully picking his way over the snow and keeping every sense alert lest he slip and tumble to his death. Dear God, don’t let it be as long as it looks. Help it be crossable, please.

But the nearer he drew, the more certain he was that they couldn’t cross it. Though the gorge was only about twenty feet wide, sheer rock walls plummeted into a ribbon of icy water far below, and it extended as far as he could see on either side.

“It’s almost as though the side of the mountain cracked open.”

Mikhail looked up to find Bryony approaching, with the rest of the party behind her. He hadn’t realized they’d followed, but even Heath and Richard had picked up the trunk and were nearing the gorge.

“If only the trees were on this side of the gorge.” Dr. Ottingford dabbed his brow with a handkerchief. “Maybe we could make a bridge.”

Mikhail rubbed his jaw. Given how narrow the fissure was, a bridge wasn’t a bad idea—except for the part about there not being any trees. He surveyed the snow-covered rock face again, then scanned the trees on the other side of the gorge. “We need to head down the mountain. We might be able to cross the fissure farther down the slope.”

Dr. Wetherby groaned. “We’ve come all this way, and the river is right there. Going down the mountain feels like we’re going backward.”

“It’s the only way—unless one of you has wings.” Mikhail pointed down the slope of the mountain. “It looks like there are trees to the north, so we might be able to make a bridge farther down.”

“I fear we’ll still have to retrace our steps on the other side of the gorge to get back to the canoes.” Dr. Ottingford scratched the side of his head through his cap.

“Let’s worry about that after we cross.” Bryony started walking, her boots leaving indentations in the soft snow.

Mikhail fell in step behind her, and the others followed behind. They skirted the edge of the gorge, staying about fifty feet away so that if someone fell, the fresh snow would stop them from sliding into the fissure. Walking that slowly, it took them about half an hour to reach the trees. Bryony tromped right up to the first tree she came to and stared up at it.

“Will it work?”

“The idea of a bridge might work, but not that particular tree. I need something that’s both straighter and closer to the edge of the gorge.” He brushed past her to inspect the others. “Or better yet, I want two trees, perhaps even three.”

“What’s the matter, Amos?” Richard set his part of the trunk down in the snow. “Scared of falling?”

“I’m not going to apologize for trying to keep everyone safe.” He tossed the words over his shoulder.

“If crossing will be too dangerous, we can just keep following the gorge.” Dr. Wetherby gestured farther down the mountain. “I know we wanted to get to the river tonight, but I’d rather everyone stay safe.”

“The trouble is, I can’t promise we’ll be able to cross the gorge before we get to the river.” Mikhail rubbed the stubble on his cheek. “Do you remember the cliffs with the canyon that emptied into the river before you beached your canoes? I’m wondering if that’s where this gorge meets the Iskut.”

“I remember. I drew a sketch. It’s a beautiful section of river, but I didn’t realize...” Bryony swallowed, running her eyes down the long, deep fissure. “That is, I never envisioned I’d need to cross the canyon from the top of the cliff.”

Mikhail spied what he’d been looking for and headed over to a thick clump of trees growing right along the edge of the gorge. “These should work.”

He dropped his pack in the snow and removed the hatchet strapped to the side. Chopping sounds filled the air as he set to work cutting a notch in one of the trees so it would fall at the correct angle—directly over the crevice.

The others watched him as he worked, soon moving from the back of the tree to the front and cutting a deep groove into the wood until the tree began to creak.

“Timber!” His shout echoed over the mountains. A moment later, the tree crashed to the ground, falling across the gorge with a force that dislodged branches and sent spruce boughs flying. But the tree held steady after it landed, stretching all the way across the fissure.

He worked on the second tree next, and once that fell, they all got together and pushed until the base of it was lined up with the base of the first tree.

“There’s a gap in the bridge near the opposite side of the gorge.” Heath pointed to where the trunks of both trees narrowed, creating a barely visible space between the evergreen branches.

“There’s nothing I can do about that, not with how the tree trunks get smaller at the top.” Mikhail used the collar of his shirt to wipe at the sweat beading along his neck. “The trunks are as close together as we can get them on this side.”

“Do we need a third tree?” Dr. Wetherby came up to where he and Heath were standing and nudged the trunk of the newly fallen tree with the toe of his boot. “This looks pretty sturdy.”

“It won’t be this thick and sturdy near the other side.” And he wasn’t going to take any unnecessary risks.

He turned and went to the third tree he’d selected and started chopping. After a few minutes, it fell over the gorge, and they worked to roll it up against the first two trees. Then he stood back to survey his work.

It was the best sort of log bridge they were going to get. But while the trunks were bare and close together on this side of the gorge, thick evergreen branches started to cover the trees about halfway across, making the trunks impossible to walk over.

He picked up his hatchet again and stepped onto the thickest trunk.

“Wait.” A small mittened hand landed on his arm. “What are you doing?” Bryony frowned up at him.

“I need to cut off the branches. I won’t let anyone attempt to cross without doing that first—especially you. The branches are sure to get tangled in your skirt.”

“Let him go, Bry.” Heath nodded toward the other side of the gorge. “We won’t be able to get across the trunks either, with branches in the way, and if one of them causes someone to lose their balance...” He shook his head, his gaze moving to the rushing river at the bottom.

Bryony’s forehead creased, and small lines crinkled around the edges of her eyes. “Be careful. Please.”

Mikhail felt something thick lodge in his throat. “I will.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer than needed before he turned away and crept out onto the trio of trunks.

The wind was worse in the middle of the gorge, howling down the corridor in the trees and rock, but he kept his focus on the thick tangle of evergreen branches and began chopping away with his hatchet.

.It took him longer than he would have liked to clear the branches, and the sky was slowly darkening by the time he made his way back across the gorge.

Heath had started a fire while they waited, and Bryony had pulled leftover biscuits from her pack and shared them with the others.

“I want to cross now.” Mikhail grabbed one of the biscuits and took a bite. “We’ll make camp as soon as we find a decent spot, and that should put us at the river before noon tomorrow.”

It wasn’t quite the same as reaching the Iskut that night, but at least everyone would be safe. “Richard...” He nodded in the man’s direction. “You cross first.”

“Don’t you want me to carry the trunk?” Richard shoved the last bite of his biscuit into his mouth.

Mikhail drew in a breath. “Heath and I will do that, and we’ll go last.”

Richard frowned, something sharp flashing in his gaze. “Hoping I’ll fall when we get out into the middle, Amos? Is that why you want me to go first?”

“Quite the opposite. I want someone skilled waiting on the other side in case another person needs help once the trunks narrow. And don’t worry about falling. I intend to escort everyone across. Heath and I will carry the trunk last. He has the best balance. Bryony, you cross after Richard, but take off your skirt. I don’t want to risk it getting caught on one of the branch stubs. You can cross in just your trousers.”

Bryony’s face flushed, but she didn’t say anything as she opened her parka and fumbled at her waist, eventually releasing her skirt and stuffing it in her pack.

“After Bryony, Dr. Ottingford will go, followed by Dr. Wetherby. I want each of you to wait for me to come back and get you before starting to cross. And be aware that the wind is worse in the middle of the gorge, so make sure you keep your footing. If you feel like you might slip, sit down for a moment and steady yourself before continuing. Go as slowly as you need when you cross. Does everyone understand?”

“You and your rules.” Richard stifled an exaggerated yawn. “You’re the only person I know who can make walking across a few logs into something so tedious.” He swung his pack onto his shoulders and started for the bridge.

Mikhail followed, his jaw clenched. Did Richard have to fight him on everything? Couldn’t he just follow instructions this once, simply to make crossing the gorge easier on everyone else?

Richard hopped onto the outer log, then looked over his shoulder. “I don’t need you to walk across with me.”

“I’m walking across with everyone,” Mikhail gritted.

“Fine. Do whatever you wish.” Richard started across the log at a pace that was a bit brisk, but he didn’t appear to have trouble keeping his balance. Mikhail moved slower, following until Richard was about halfway across.

Then Richard stopped, his head angled downward as he stared at something on the far side of the gorge wall.

“What is it?” Mikhail inched closer. A gust of wind chose that moment to rip through the gorge, ruffling his hair and causing the giant tree to groan in the wind.

“Nothing,” Richard straightened, clamping his hand on top of his head so he didn’t lose his hat.

But he was still looking at that odd spot on the rock face. Mikhail moved closer, his eyes studying the gray rock until he saw the odd coloration on the wall. Two thick ribbons of milky white, with a thin metallic strip in the middle.

Gold. He wasn’t a geologist, but he’d seen gold enough to know what it looked like, knew enough about the wilderness to understand that it was often found in quartz, the milky white rock that surrounded the narrower metallic streak.

“Eyes forward, Richard,” he muttered, taking another step closer. “Keep moving.”

Richard looked over his shoulder. Time stretched between them as another gust of wind barreled through the gap in the trees.

The metallic strip might not be gold. At least that’s what he told himself. It could be fool’s gold. Pyrite was just as shiny and metallic looking.

But pyrite wouldn’t be encased in quartz.

Everything Richard Caldwell had been searching for, everything he’d hoped the man wouldn’t find, and he’d led Richard straight to it.

What would Richard do with this information? He’d file a claim the moment he got back to Sitka, but then what? Just how soon would a mining company set up operations? If the gold was on the surface, they’d rip off the face of the mountain, creating a giant, hulking pit that would one day contain little more than dust and debris. And if the vein was underground, how deep into the beautiful, untouched wilderness would they burrow to make a handful of investors in Washington, DC, filthy rich?

Mikhail didn’t know what emotions his face gave away, but Richard must have been pleased with what he saw, because a thin smile curved the edges of his mouth. Then he spun around and started toward the far side of the gorge.

Or rather, he would have started toward the opposite side, but his foot hit a stub from one of the branches, and he stumbled.

“No!” Mikhail shouted, lurching forward while fighting to keep his own balance.

Richard’s arms flailed, his boot digging into the rough bark of the tree. For a moment, it seemed like he might regain his balance. His free hand clawed at the air, and he bent his knees to steady himself. But then the stub of the branch caught his toe again, and his weight shifted, his body pitching sideways.

Mikhail surged forward, his heart pounding in his ears as he stretched out a hand. His fingers brushed the wool of Richard’s coat, but then Richard’s boot slipped clean off the wood, and the coat fabric slid through Mikhail’s fingers.

Richard’s body twisted as he fell, and his scream tore through the air, echoing off the gorge walls.

Mikhail closed his eyes and looked away, not able to watch what he knew was coming. Then the scream stopped, and there was nothing but the wind and the distant roar of the river below.

He opened his eyes, his chest still heaving as he stared down into the rushing water. He didn’t see so much as a trace of Richard, not his head bobbing above the surface or his pack floating. Nothing that indicated the river had just swallowed a man’s life.

Nausea swirled in his stomach. So much death. There had been so much death in his life.

God, what am I doing wrong? I tried to do the safest thing, tried to find the safest way to cross the gorge.

Heat pricked his eyes. Was it him? Was he cursed somehow? Was he always doomed to have people around him die?

Because that’s exactly what it seemed like.