Where Heaven Begins Page 10

  “Clint Brady, how dare you!”

  “How dare I what? Keep you from making the biggest mistake of your life?”

  “And you haven’t made any?”

  “I’ve made plenty!” He scooped her up in his arms to carry her across one of the narrow board crosswalks.

  “What are you doing!”

  “Keeping you out of the mud.”

  “Not long ago you wanted to knock me clear out the back door, if I remember your words correctly!”

  “Yeah, well, that’s what I want to talk about.”

  Elizabeth could not help being surprised at how adeptly he picked her up, as though she weighed nothing. He couldn’t possibly be anywhere near his normal strength, but he’d clobbered Ezra Faine with startling force.

  They reached the boardwalk at the other side of the street, and Elizabeth felt a sudden, surprising surge of happiness and desire rush through her as she looked at Clint Brady by the soft light of the oil lamps hanging along the boardwalk. It so startled her that she fought it vehemently.

  “Put me down!” she commanded, tears coming again and making her even more embarrassed and upset with herself.

  Clint just stood there with her for a moment, an odd look in his eyes, almost like a sorry little boy—a look that changed to something she could not quite decipher. Sorrow? Adoration? For one brief moment she thought he might actually kiss her!

  “Tell me you aren’t afraid of me. I’m sorry for what I said, and we need to talk.”

  “We certainly do! And you owe me a dollar for that wasted food!”

  Clint set her on her feet. “It wasn’t wasted. I ate all of it.” He put a hand to her back. “Come on back to the hotel with me.” He started walking again, a little slower this time.

  “Why did you hit that poor man?”

  “Poor man? Why were you crying?”

  Elizabeth wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I don’t know.”

  “I think it was because the man was insulting you in some way, maybe misunderstood your intentions. Am I right?”

  “Yes,” she answered, embarrassed.

  “You’d go a long way to find a man out of that crowd who’d honestly see you got to Dawson safely. Most would probably have every good intention of helping you out, but men are men, and each one at that tent is out for himself. You get snowed in with any one of them, worse than that, a group of them, and all their good intentions could easily go right out the smokehole and blow away with the mountain winds.”

  “And I suppose you’re different?”

  They were nearly at the hotel. “Maybe not, except for one thing.”

  “Oh? And what is that?”

  They walked up the steps to the hotel front door, where he turned to face her before going in. “I care about you.”

  The comment left Elizabeth speechless for the moment. I care about you. What the heck did that mean? As just a friend? As something more than a friend? Heavens! What if that was what he meant?

  The thought made her suddenly self-conscious. What was she supposed to say to him? Should she ask him what he meant? Did she want him to care about her as more than a friend? Truth was, deep inside, she did. She’d never really allowed the thought to surface until now. Still, he was nowhere near the kind of man she’d always imagined she’d end up with someday, and he was too old, wasn’t he? Heck, she had no idea how old he was. Perhaps his size and experience made him seem older than he really was. And for heaven’s sake, he killed men for money! He didn’t even believe in God any more…or at least so he claimed. She suspected that wasn’t true at all. Dear Lord, what am I supposed to say? What should I do? What does this man want? What do You want?

  Clint led her inside. Elizabeth was glad to see that Mr. Wheeler was not at his desk as they stormed through the lobby and into the back room. Clint closed the door and turned up the lamp. He ordered Elizabeth to sit down in the wooden chair, and Clint sat down on the cot. He took a deep breath, resting his elbows on his knees. Elizabeth waited for him to speak first, still a little wary of him after his drunken threat to her the day before.

  “Here’s the deal,” he told her. “I’ve rescued you from peril twice, and you just might have saved my life. For some reason we keep running into each other and helping each other out. And now I’ve come to know you too well just to let you go off to Dawson with complete strangers, and too well to…well, like I said, I care about you, which means I could never…you know…take advantage, if the issue were to arise.”

  Elizabeth felt the odd rush of desire again, a feeling that confused her. With it came an uncomfortable embarrassment at what he meant.

  “What I mean is,” he continued, “I’ve come to respect you highly. What happened earlier…I can promise you that won’t happen again. I drank that whiskey because whiskey can be a pretty good cure-all for a lot of things. I figured it would make me feel better and heal faster. Fact is, I feel awful. My head feels like it’s trying to lift away from my neck, and my chest still hurts, but I think that by day after tomorrow, I could start for Dawson.”

  “That’s too soon.”

  He put up his hand. “I’m not finished.” He coughed before continuing. “I want to apologize for what I said earlier. You can rest assured I’ve never hit a woman in my life and never would. That was whiskey talking.”

  “And what if you drink during our journey?”

  He held her gaze for a moment, and she thought again how blue his eyes were, how handsome he was.

  “Well, I promise not to. You’ll just have to believe me. But if I do drink—and even if I don’t—you have to promise me one thing. One thing, and I’ll get you to Dawson safely.”

  She frowned. “What is that?”

  “Don’t bring up my dead wife’s name again.”

  So, that was it. Why was it so terrible to talk about Jenny? “And what if you bring it up?”

  He shrugged. “I won’t. But if I were to bring it up, it would be because I want to talk about her and…what happened to her…and…our son.”

  A son! Elizabeth could see just the mere mention of both of them made him agitated. “All right,” she told him. “But may I say one thing?”

  He eyed her warily. “What?”

  Elizabeth swallowed before continuing. “Well, I just want you to know—” God, help me find the right words “—that I care about you, too. And the couple of times I did mention your family, I was just hoping to help you cope with loss…because that’s just the kind of person I am. My heart is filled with the love of Jesus Christ and with His teachings and commandments, which means He would want me to be His instrument of healing in any way I can. So I just want you to know that if and when you should ever want to talk, I am ready and willing to listen, and I would never, ever judge your anger or the things it has made you do. I look at you and I see someone who I believe was once a wonderful family man who believed in God and in His Son, Jesus Christ.”

  Clint just stared at her a moment, and she could see a hunger in his eyes, but it quickly vanished. “Now there’s another requirement. I don’t want to be preached to for the whole journey.”

  Elizabeth smiled softly. “All right. I’ll do my best.” She folded her arms. “We never even said flat-out that we would do this, you know—go to Dawson together, I mean. I take it that’s the decision you’ve made, considering the way you walked over to that tent and hauled me out of there and warned me not to trust anyone but you. I’m still not so sure I can trust you. But I am going to for the simple reason that I absolutely cannot believe that God didn’t bring you into my life for the specific purpose of seeing that I reach Peter safely. If you are the one He’s chosen for the job, then I have no choice but to trust you.”

  Clint actually smiled a little himself then. He took off his coat. “Thanks for fixing things up for me, changing the sheets and all. I’ll pay you back for that meal, and I’ll pay for your room. You shouldn’t have had to take a different one.”

  “I’ll manage.”


  “Okay, rule number three. Don’t argue with me about everything. Whatever I tell you to do, you’ll do it, including letting me pay for things. I have plenty of money and nothing to spend it on. I have even more in a bank in San Francisco. And no, it didn’t all come from killing men for bounty. And yes, I’ll explain all of it to you in my own time. And I might add that you have some explaining of your own to do.”

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in curiosity. “Oh? What do you mean?”

  “I mean it’s kind of strange that a nice young woman like you is headed for Dawson all alone. You said your father had been a preacher in San Francisco, and so had your brother, apparently. You must have belonged to a church. There must have been friends and parishioners who cared about you. Why the sudden rush to head for Dawson so late in the year? It can’t be just because your mother died. You act more like someone who is running away from something. What is it you aren’t telling me?”

  Elizabeth felt the renewed shame and anger she’d felt when the deacons accused her of sinfully throwing herself at Reverend Selby. Would this man understand? Or would he judge her in the way so many men in the church had judged her? “I guess I’ll have to answer that the way you said you felt about talking about your wife. I’ll tell you when the time is right.”

  Clint rose. “Fair enough.” He walked to the door and opened it. “One more rule,” he added.

  Elizabeth stood up and faced him. “What is that?”

  “While we’re traveling together, we lead others to believe we’re husband and wife. If and when we come across people who knew us here in Skagway, we tell them we got married.”

  Elizabeth felt a flutter in her stomach. “Why?”

  “Because you’ll be safer if others think you’re married. I shouldn’t have to explain the reason why.”

  “But…if we sleep in separate tents—”

  “We won’t. Between lonely men and wild animals, I’m not letting you away from my protection. Besides, two tents mean extra gear to carry. A lot of the time we’ll sleep out in the open anyway.”

  “But…I…”

  “You’re supposed to trust me. Besides, God sent me to help you, remember? He must mean for you to trust me.”

  Elizabeth thought about what a big, strong man he was, a man who carried a gun at that. Still, he was right. She’d said herself that God meant for them to travel together. Maybe she’d stuck her foot in her mouth, but what was done was done, and if she wanted to reach Peter safely, she didn’t have much choice. Clint Brady was her best bet.

  She nodded. “All right. From here on we are husband and wife. And you should start calling me Liz. That’s what everyone close to me calls me. It will make us more believable.”

  “Good enough.” He stood aside. “Good night…Liz. Be ready tomorrow morning at eight o’clock to go shopping with me. We need supplies and you need a wedding band. I’ll have to go get my horses from where they are boarded and we’ll start packing what we’ll need.”

  “Do you know the way?”

  “I have good maps, and besides, the trail is pretty well worn by now. We’re bound to run into others the whole way.”

  Elizabeth walked through the door and looked back at him. “Thank you, Clint.”

  He nodded. “You’re welcome. Use the rest of today and tomorrow to rest up. I’ll be doing the same.”

  He closed the door and Elizabeth stared at it for a moment before turning to go to her room. “Lord, what in the world are You doing?” she muttered. This was going to be one interesting trip. Not only was Clint Brady a bounty hunter and a Godless man who needed her help in finding his faith…but he’d become more. She’d never thought her trip to Dawson would include a battle with her own heart.

  Chapter Twenty

  …Oh, my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt.

  —St. Matthew 26:39

  “I’m glad I already have my own tinware,” Clint told Elizabeth, who was watching him yank leather straps and tie ropes and hoist more supplies onto his three sturdy horses. “You can’t find a tin plate or cup at any supply store. They’re bought out. One man told me that last year you could pick up practically everything you needed for free as you went over the pass, so many supplies were abandoned by men who just gave up.”

  They stood behind Morgan’s Supply Store, loading all the things Clint had purchased for their journey. Elizabeth felt so indebted. He’d not asked her for a dime.

  Clint took a moment to glance at the surrounding mountains, and Elizabeth knew he was worried. Every peak showed snow, and the owner of the store where they’d purchased most of their grub, extra blankets, a tent and numerous other necessities, had told them that men who worked for him making deliveries had returned just the day before, giving up an effort to get over the pass to take valuable supplies on to Dawson. A sudden snowstorm had forced them back to Skagway.

  “Could very likely be sunny and melting now,” the store owner had suggested. “That’s how it is here, a storm one minute, springlike weather the next. And if it does warm up, watch out for a sudden flood. A little mountain waterfall can turn into a raging torrent in five minutes flat.”

  The news was not inviting.

  “Clint, are you sure you’re up to this? You’re still coughing, and I can tell you’ve lost weight.”

  “I’m all right,” he insisted as he continued packing flour, pork, beans, coffee, sugar, tea, lard, potatoes, a shovel, two bags of oats for the horses, the tent, blankets and two rifles.

  “I should have taught you how to use a gun,” he told her as he shoved the rifles into their sheaths. “Could come in handy if a grizzly decides to have us for lunch. Most should be going into hibernation any time, so we might not have a problem. Then, of course, there are cougars to worry about, and wolves. If we’re lucky, I’ll come across a rabbit or deer so we can save our provisions, and we can always throw out a net every night while we travel the Yukon and eat fish instead of using up the salt pork. I have a good filleting knife, and a good hunting knife for cleaning game.” He stopped and faced her. “Have you ever cleaned a rabbit or helped gut a deer?”

  The thought was not pleasing. “I’m afraid not.”

  Clint shook his head. “You’ll learn soon enough.” He returned to his packing.

  “I’ll do whatever I have to do to help,” Elizabeth told him. “I have no qualms about doing anything that’s necessary to survive, including—” She eyed his six-gun. You are traveling with someone who kills men as easily as rabbits, she reminded herself. Was she crazy? “—including learning to use a rifle,” she finished. “For all we know, I might need to know that to help you out of some kind of danger.”

  He faced her again, this time smiling. “If I am in a fistfight with a bear, I’m not sure I want you pointing a rifle anywhere in my direction,” he told her. “If the bear doesn’t get me, a bullet probably would.”

  She was astonished at how a genuine smile transformed him completely, into a handsome, affable-looking man who could be anyone’s neighbor. She could not help smiling in return. “Wouldn’t a bullet be more humane than letting you be mauled and slowly eaten by a grizzly?”

  This time he chuckled. “You have a point.”

  Elizabeth leaned against a post as he continued packing. He’d given her specific instructions not to try to help. He had a method to his packing, and he didn’t want any arguments about it. I’ve done nothing but travel and sleep out under the stars for the last four years, he’d told her.

  Hunting men, she’d thought. If she had her way, Clint Brady would be a changed man by the time they reached Dawson. How she would accomplish that, she had no idea. God would have to do it through her.

  She looked down at the plain gold band on her left hand. Secretly, she liked the looks of it, the thought of being a wife someday…someday. She shook away the thought.

  Their journey would start tomorrow, early in the morning. She pressed a hand to he
r stomach, feeling butterflies. Her father must be turning over in his grave knowing she was venturing out alone with a man who in all essence was really still a stranger…a man who sometimes liked his demon whiskey. He’d packed two full bottles of it, for medicinal purposes, he’d told her. Whiskey can clean wounds and help a cough and clear sinuses and kill pain. Any man would be crazy to set out on a trip like this without some good whiskey along.

  She walked around to pat his horses, wanting them to get to know her. One was a black gelding named Devil, who, Clint advised “fit his name.” She’d already been instructed to leave Devil to him to handle. Still, the horse whinnied and nodded when she petted his neck and spoke softly to him.

  The other two were mares, one a roan named Red Lady, the other a gray speckled horse named Queen. Clint claimed both were easy to handle, especially Queen.

  “I have a question, Clint,” she spoke up, coming closer to watch him again.

  He put an arm over Devil’s neck and faced her. “What’s that?”

  “You’ve never told me how old you are.”

  He grinned, and she thought how nice it was to be around him when he was in a good mood. However, she couldn’t help wondering if it was only because he was finally on his way to find another wanted man.

  “How old do you think I am?”

  She shrugged, pulling her cape closer. The day was cool and damp. “I can’t decide. Early thirties, maybe?”

  “Thirty on the head,” he answered. “I guess you to be about eighteen.”

  “I’m twenty,” she answered. She saw more questions in his eyes. He probably wondered why she was still single. A man like Clint couldn’t possibly understand that the work of the Lord must come before personal wants and needs.

  He turned away. “You mean you didn’t leave behind some broken hearts when you left San Francisco?”

  “Oh, there were a couple of interested young men, but I didn’t share the interest.” She took a deep breath and looked out at the mountains. “The man I marry will have to be very special, a Christian man who shares my faith and puts God above all else, a steady, settled man who knows his Bible and who will be a good provider and a wonderful father. He’ll have to be brave like my father was, brave enough to voice his faith among the unfaithful. And of course he’ll be strong and handsome and—”