Where Heaven Begins Page 12

  “Maybe in the States,” Clint answered. “But on a trail from Skagway to Dawson, you couldn’t get me to sell for a thousand dollars. Besides that, I’ve owned these horses for years. They were mine before I even left San Francisco, and they aren’t for sale at any price.”

  Looking angry and chagrined, Faine pursed his lips mockingly. He sighed deeply, looking Clint over. “Well, you can’t blame a man for trying.”

  “There are a lot of things a man can be blamed for,” Clint retorted. “Why don’t you just go join your friends. And, by the way, I’m a light sleeper.”

  Faine frowned. “Mr. Brady! Are you saying you don’t trust me?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “Clint, the man apologized,” Elizabeth spoke up.

  “He didn’t mean a word of it.” Clint nodded toward the others. “Go join the rest of your party,” he told Faine.

  Faine sighed deeply, glancing at Elizabeth again. “Thank you for at least trying to be hospitable, ma’am. And again, I apologize.” He backed away. “And I must say, I can’t imagine such a nice young lady marrying such a rude, unfriendly man as Mr. Brady.” He took another look at both of them, eyeing Clint’s gun for a moment, then left.

  Elizabeth turned to Clint. “If they had any bad intentions, you certainly didn’t help any with your attitude,” she chastised.

  Clint grasped her arm a little too tightly and made her sit down on the log they’d been sharing. “Look, I can be as friendly as the next man with people who deserve it. That man doesn’t. The rest of them might be all right, but not that one. And it’s my bet they all would follow just about anything he told them to do. When it comes to handling men like that, let me take care of it. Understood?”

  “But a kind word—”

  “Understood?”

  “Let go of my arm.”

  Clint sighed deeply, doing as she asked. His tone softened, and he leaned closer. “You have to admit that I know a bit more about these things than you, right?”

  Elizabeth frowned. “That doesn’t mean you have to be rude to people.”

  “It does when my gut instinct tells me someone isn’t worth trusting,” he said, keeping his voice down. “And after dealing with some of the worst of them, my instinct is honed pretty darn well. And I’m telling you that Mr. Manners over there would steal my horses, and you along with them, if he got the chance. Fact is, we’re staying an extra day and letting that bunch of fast talkers go on ahead of us. I don’t intend to travel with them at my back. Got that? And from now on, when strangers come along, I’ll be the judge of who we’re friendly with and who we aren’t. When men come along to test out your vulnerability, especially when you have something they want, you let them know right up front that you’re not to be messed with.”

  Elizabeth blinked back tears of anger and embarrassment. “It’s hard for me to be unfriendly,” she answered, her voice quivering. To her surprise, he moved an arm around her shoulders, giving her a reassuring hug.

  “Well, it isn’t hard for me, so let me do the talking, all right? I’m not asking you to do or say anything you don’t feel right about. I’m just asking you to be still and let me handle things. Will you please do that?”

  Elizabeth nodded. She quickly wiped at a tear. “Do you really think they might cause trouble?”

  He gave her one more squeeze before pulling a prerolled cigarette from his jacket pocket. “I don’t know. I only know I don’t trust them, and that these horses are as valuable to us as the air we breathe.” He lit the cigarette with a burning stick from the fire. “Sometimes when you set a man straight right off, it saves a lot of trouble later.” He took a long, quiet drag on the cigarette. “Now why don’t you go inside the tent and try to sleep. I intend to keep an eye on things for a while. And bury yourself good into the sleeping bag. It gets mighty cold in these higher elevations at night, and I intend to open one side of the back of the tent and tether the horses back there…to my ankle. Anybody tries anything, I’ll know it right quick.”

  “It isn’t good for you to breathe such cold air.”

  “I’ll wrap a woolen scarf around my face. I’ll be fine. I’ve slept out in colder weather. You’re the one who isn’t used to it.”

  Elizabeth finished a cup of coffee and rose. “I’m sorry I interfered.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just get some sleep. I might need you to wake up early morning and keep watch while I get some sleep. We’re not leaving until that bunch gets a good head start on us.”

  Elizabeth felt almost sick from being sore and tired. “If that’s what you want.” She headed for the tent, going inside and grimacing as she removed her boots. She rubbed her sore feet for a few minutes, then crawled into her blankets, pulling them up over her head as Clint had ordered. She thought how at least the incident had dispelled her nervousness about sharing a tent this first night with Clint. It would likely be a while before he even came inside to sleep. By the time he did, she’d be asleep herself. After tonight, things wouldn’t seem so awkward. She just had to get used to it.

  “God, watch over him,” she prayed. “Please don’t let there be any trouble.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Deliver me, oh Lord, from the evil man: preserve me from the violent man…

  —Psalms 140:1

  Elizabeth awoke to birds singing. She sat up, noticing Clint was not inside the tent. The last she remembered, he was sitting inside smoking, and told her he would take his bedroll outside and sleep there so he could keep an eye on the horses.

  She shivered from the cold, thinking how much colder it must have been lying outside in the damp air. She took the combs from her hair and shook it out, then rewound it into a bun and fastened it. Looking down at her pants, she wondered how she must look to others. By the time this trip was over, she’d be an even worse mess from not being able to bathe or wash her hair. She wondered already if she could ever feel or look feminine again.

  She pulled on her boots and jacket and crawled out of the tent. Clint sat by a renewed fire, drinking coffee and smoking yet another cigarette. She stood up, rubbing her eyes.

  “Finally woke up, did you?” Clint teased.

  Elizabeth stretched. “Did you ever sleep?”

  “Some.”

  “You’re going to make yourself sick again, Clint.”

  “I bundled up plenty good. As you can see, our horses are still here.”

  She glanced at Devil, Queen and Red Lady, then over toward Ezra Faine’s camp. The men there were packing up. “I see,” she answered. “I really don’t think it was necessary for you to lie out in the damp cold all night.”

  “Well, I do think it was. And we’ll wait right here until those fellows over there get a good head start on us. You might as well fix us some breakfast. I might even try getting a couple more hours’ sleep while you take a turn watching the horses. It will put us somewhat behind, but I’d rather that bunch went on ahead. It will be worth it.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Whatever you say.” She headed over to a cluster of rocks behind which she had no choice but to drop her trousers and drawers to relieve herself. If nothing else, this trip would certainly damage her modesty, that was sure. And it would be a while before she felt halfway comfortable in such a position with an unrelated man nearby. She walked back to the campfire and dug a frying pan out of their gear. “Pork and potatoes?”

  “Sounds good.” Clint was watching the Faine party.

  Elizabeth set up a sheet-iron stove and set a black fry pan over the flames. She dropped in a few pieces of pork, which created enough grease to fry potatoes. She quickly sliced some into the pan, then sat down next to Clint. He poured coffee into a tin cup and handed it to her.

  “Thanks for making this,” she told him. “Sorry I didn’t get up sooner.”

  He shrugged, keeping the cigarette between his lips. “Didn’t matter this morning, since we aren’t leaving right away. The horses can probably use the rest, too.�
�� He removed the cigarette and drank some coffee, and Elizabeth noticed he wore his six-gun and kept a rifle beside him. “I’ll take a bucket to a little waterfall I found in some rocks just around the bend of the trail,” he added. “I’ll fill it for the horses. I found the waterfall earlier when I walked a little ways ahead.” He took one more drag and threw the butt of the cigarette into the fire, then looked at her with a mixture of humor and warning in his eyes. “You won’t believe what’s just around the bend.”

  Why did his closeness stir such odd feelings deep inside…a desire to touch him? Elizabeth had to turn her attention to the cooking food. It was difficult to look into those startlingly blue eyes; the man was so handsome in spite of the fact that he already needed a shave. He’d probably have a pretty good beard by the time they reached Dawson.

  She stirred the food. “What’s around the bend?”

  “A view like nothing either of us has ever seen, even though we’ve seen the Sierras,” he answered. “It would be beautiful if not for the fact that we have to go through it. We have three pretty challenging mountains to get across before we reach Lake Bennett, which is where we’ll finally be able to finish the trip by way of the Yukon River. But that’s a good fifty miles off, and the last climb will be White Pass. From around the bend you can see it, and white is a good description. There’s a lot of snow up there, Elizabeth. We could lose all three of the horses before we even get there, narrow as the trail is in some places—and it’s almost for sure we’ll lose them trying to get over the pass.”

  Elizabeth looked back at Clint’s loyal steeds. It was only natural to be attached already, and she realized Clint must be much more attached than she. She knelt by the fire and kept stirring. “I’m sorry. Clint, if you want to go back—”

  “No. We’ll make it, horses or no horses. But since you have some kind of an in with God, it wouldn’t hurt for you to keep praying those three mounts make it, at least to the top of White Pass.”

  She smiled and looked over at him. “I don’t have an in, as you put it. But I will do my best.” She stirred the potatoes again. “I’d hate for you to lose your horses.”

  He sighed deeply, watching the Faine party finish their packing. “I can buy more.”

  So, you won’t even let yourself get attached to your faithful animals for fear of losing them, Elizabeth thought. Or at least you pretend not to care.

  Clint remained silent as she finished cooking the pork and potatoes. She scooped some onto a tin plate for him and handed it to him with a fork. By then Ezra Faine and those with him were ready to head out, their backs packed heavily. Two men were hitched to a sled like draft animals. They left, passing Clint and Elizabeth on the way. Ezra stopped to address them.

  “Shouldn’t you two be underway?” he asked with a frown. “There’s no time to waste this time of year.”

  “We’ll be along,” Clint answered. “I figured I’d let you go first. Wouldn’t want to hold you up.”

  Faine pretended an unconcerned laugh. “You just want us ahead of you, is that it?”

  Clint handed his plate to Elizabeth, taking hold of his rifle and placing it over his knees. “Something like that.”

  “Not exactly the friendly sort, are you?” one of the other men commented.

  “Depends on who wants to be friendly,” Clint answered. “Word is there are men on these trips who would kill for horses and supplies. I’m just looking out for my own.”

  “Probably a good idea,” another spoke up. It was Jonathan Hedley.

  Clint just nodded. “Good luck,” he told them.

  Faine glanced at Elizabeth, then back to Clint. “Same to you.” Again he looked at Elizabeth. “If anything should happen to your…uh…husband there…we won’t be far ahead, ma’am, if you should need help.”

  “Thank you,” Elizabeth answered. She realized the man didn’t believe their story about getting married. If not, did they still think her a wanton woman? “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

  Faine tipped his hat. “Let’s go, men.” He plodded on, and the others followed. Elizabeth noticed that Clint watched them until the last man was out of sight around the bend. Then he rose.

  “I’m going to make sure they do keep going,” he told Elizabeth.

  “Clint, just finish your food. It will get cold.”

  “Put it back in the pan till I get back. It’ll keep,” he answered.

  He picked up his rifle and headed for an outcropping of rocks that hid the trail beyond. Elizabeth looked out at the surrounding mountains, now lighting up from the morning sun. Along the lower elevations across the wide chasm from where they were camped burst a display of splendid color from golden aspens that still hung on to their leaves, mixed with dark-green spruce and crimson undergrowth splashed with the purple and white of flowering autumn weeds. It was all so beautiful against the snowy mountains that rose above the color. She saw something move, then squinted her eyes to focus more sharply on the image.

  “A bear,” she said softly. It looked small from where she stood, but she surmised it would be much bigger up close. She hoped she’d never find out if that was so.

  “What’s so interesting?” Clint shouted.

  She turned to see him returning. “There’s a bear down there,” she said, pointing.

  Clint walked closer, and it took him a few seconds to see where she was pointing. “Yup, I see it. Looks like a grizzly.” He grunted a laugh. “Better there than here.”

  Elizabeth smiled in agreement. “Look at the colors, Clint. It’s so beautiful!”

  He looked out at the scene with her, and she thought how in that little moment they shared something. She could feel a little part of what must have been the “old” Clint Brady, a man who could relax and appreciate beauty, but the moment did not last long.

  “It’s deceiving,” he said, suddenly turning away. “Beneath all that beauty is a lot of danger. Come on. I’ll finish eating. You can enjoy the view while I get some extra sleep.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Blessed be the Lord my strength…My goodness and my fortress; my high tower, and my deliverer; my shield, and He in whom I trust…

  —Psalms 144:1 & 2

  For the next two days the journey became so treacherous that there was little time for talk. Sleeping in the same tent with Clint no longer worried Elizabeth. Both fell exhausted into their blankets at night, and the exertion had made Clint’s cough worse again, so that he was even more drained at night than Elizabeth.

  She was glad she’d brought along the smelly liniment. She’d heated it for him, and he’d smeared the mysterious, oily concoction onto his chest himself. He hadn’t even wanted to smoke, which was a relief to Elizabeth, who was not so sure smoking wasn’t sinful, let alone surely not good for a man. But knowing Clint, he would not care to hear her preach against the habit. If only that was his only fault.

  On the third day, they reached the first corduroy bridge across the foaming, freezing and very intimidating Skagway River.

  “The guide I talked to said we’d have to cross several of these bridges to get to White Pass,” Clint yelled to Elizabeth above the roar of the churning water. “After that we’ll be in British Columbia.”

  The memory of her near-drowning came vividly to Elizabeth’s mind. She never wanted to experience such a thing again, and the force of the river surely meant it would be impossible to survive the current if one fell in. Apparently Clint saw the fear in her eyes as she stared at the roaring death trap. He walked back to where she stood.

  “I’ll take the horses across first, then come back for you,” he told her. “Don’t worry. Thousands of other men and horses have crossed these things.”

  “Clint, be careful!” she told him. “If you fall into those waters and don’t drown, you’ll be sick all over again!”

  He buttoned his fur-lined coat higher to his neck. The water’s spray in this area made it seem colder than it really was. “Don’t worry,” he told her. He took hold of Devil’
s harness and started across the wobbly log bridge, constantly talking to the black gelding to keep him calm. Elizabeth’s heart nearly stopped beating when the horse whinnied and balked, rearing back slightly and nearly pushing Clint off the bridge.

  Clint managed to calm the animal and get him to the other side, a process that took a good ten minutes. He tied Devil to a little pine tree that jutted out of the rocks nearby and balanced his way back across the bridge to repeat the process with Queen and Red Lady. The sweeter-tempered mares caused much less trouble than Devil. Clint tied them and returned for Elizabeth.

  “It’s not that bad,” he told her. “If those horses could make it across, you sure can.”

  “I should have just come across behind you the second time,” she told him. “It’s just the memory of falling off the Damsel.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Clint moved his right arm around her back, grasping her waist for extra support, then grasped the rope railing with his left hand. Elizabeth clung to the right-side rope and they made their way carefully across the precarious logs. She could not help appreciating the strength of Clint’s grasp, and she thought how it seemed like God protecting her through this man.

  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” she shouted.

  Clint laughed lightly. He gave her a light squeeze, which surprised her…and was sinfully pleasing. It amazed her that she could think of that in such a time of fear and peril, but it was Clint helping her, reassuring her, risking his life, money and belongings for her. How could she not begin to feel an attachment? Was the same thing happening to him?

  She reminded herself he was doing this mainly to reach Dawson so he could hunt for a wanted man. Still, already she was wondering what things would be like once they reached Dawson. Would he simply hunt down Roland Fisher and either kill him or tie him to his horse and leave? Would their own relationship, such as it was, simply end with a thank-you and a goodbye?