The applause was exuberant as Mr. Hester took the primitive stage. His words were eloquent, and Allan found himself greatly moved that this group of people would care so much to come all this way. He hoped they could look beyond the rustic conditions to the beauty around them. He watched the people listen and offer polite encouragement.
One particular reporter with a camera seemed focused on Cassidy. She appeared completely unaware of the man taking pictures; instead her attention was focused on Mr. Hester. As Allan studied her, he understood why the photo fellow was so enraptured. Cassidy had such stunning features. Dark hair and dark eyes, the lines of her face were elegant . . . noble even. His shock upon first arrival had obviously rendered his senses useless.
All too soon, applause brought his attention back, and Allan realized he’d missed the entire speech as Mr. Hester cleared his voice and spoke louder. “I’d like to conclude by stating that on this date, the ninth of July, in the year of our Lord, 1923, I declare that Mount McKinley National Park be formally dedicated to its rightful owners, the people of the United States.”
Everyone stood and offered hearty applause.
Mr. Karstens, attired in his superintendent’s uniform, addressed the crowd next. “Thank you all for coming. We’d now like to invite you to a mountain sheep barbecue to conclude our ceremony today.”
Allan applauded with the rest of the group and then felt a tug on his elbow. Turning, he realized it was John. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize you needed me.”
“Nothing to apologize about. I just wanted to let you know that after the meal, the delegation will be boarding the train and heading to Fairbanks. After we help Karstens and the rest of the staff to disassemble the tents, he’s allowing us to use a few horses and head into the park for a bit. This time of year, it will be light on into the night. It would be good for you and Thomas to see all of this for future reference.”
“Yes, sir.”
John walked toward the press delegates and then shook hands with many of them. Allan watched with mixed emotions. The man before him seemed nothing like the man Frank had described to him all these years.
His thoughts warred with each other. Last night, Allan hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep because of it. Morning came all too early, but he put a façade in place, determined to do his best for the day. But behind it, a seething anger wanted to build over the death of his father. And yet John wasn’t a man Allan wanted to hate. Quite the contrary.
Frank had declared John to be inept and callous. But nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, those qualities seemed more likely to fit Frank than John. All of his adult life, Allan had been wary of Frank, yet he chalked it up to some sort of displaced frustration that Frank survived when his father hadn’t. Still, the ruthlessness about Frank always left a sour taste. Another reason why he couldn’t stand to be at the factory working with the man.
In contrast, John seemed more like his father . . . Henry.
But even so, how could he ever respect and learn from the man who’d taken everything from his family? It seemed like just another of God’s cruel jokes.
5
Frank Irving’s secretary, Lucy, opened his office door. “Excuse me. This just came by messenger.” She left it on his desk and scurried out.
Brennan was embossed on the outside. Good grief, what did that woman want now?
Opening the note with his gold letter opener, Frank hoped it was news that Allan Brennan had met some terrible demise.
The few lines of script jumped off the page. “No!” He crumpled the note in his hands.
Lucy rushed back in. “Did you call for something, sir?”
“No, and get out!” Frank leapt to his feet and locked the door behind his retreating secretary.
He stomped back to his desk and picked up the phone. “Get me my lawyer. Now.”
The line rang back. “Cyrus, we need to talk.”
“Frank, I have to be in court in an hour.”
“Well, you better get here in the next two minutes, then.”
Click. At least the man knew where his bread was buttered.
Pacing his office, he counted to 207 before Cyrus walked in, his shiny shoes squeaking on the floor. “Well, what is it this time? I’ve already told you I can’t you help you with—”
“I’ve just had word that Allan is in Alaska.”
“What?” Cyrus stopped preening in front of the mirror. “Why?”
“Probably because he wants to climb the stupid mountain where his father died.”
Cyrus sat in a chair and crossed his arms. “So why is it so urgent that I’m here?”
“If you would have done your job properly ten years ago, I wouldn’t be in this mess, so don’t take that tone with me.”
His lawyer leaned forward. “Pardon me, Frank. But I couldn’t control your partner any more than you could. The document was legal and out of my hands.”
“But you could have at least warned me before I risked my life climbing a twenty-thousand-foot mountain.”
A heavy sigh left the man’s lips. He squeezed them together. Several seconds passed before he spoke again. “I’m going to remind you one last time, Frank. You asked for the documents to be prepared. I prepared them. You signed them. Before Henry ever saw them or consulted his own attorney—and, might I add, against my advice. Henry had his own lawyer look at the papers before he signed them. Had Henry not written an addendum to his will—perfectly legal, I might add—yes, you would have gained control of everything. But he did. I truly hate repeating myself, but it seems you aren’t willing to let it through your thick skull that I had nothing to do with the legal addendum to his will that he had drawn up, and I didn’t have any power whatsoever to change anything that was in signed and legal documents. You argued with the judge and lost. You’d already gained half of Henry’s holdings, so you now own seventy-five percent of the company. Please let it go.”
Frank turned on him. “You fool. This isn’t something to just ‘let go.’ The agreement was for the surviving partner to receive all the holdings of the company!”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re not above the law, Frank. In your case, if you had been the one to die, yes, everything would have reverted back to Henry. Because you have no children. But as you well know, Henry left half of his holdings to his son, Allan, while the other half did indeed come back to you.”
“But that’s not good enough.” He couldn’t admit that it had been bad choices on his part. He had invested and was losing. A lot.
Cyrus stood. “Thank you for wasting my time today so that I could explain once again why you didn’t inherit everything. Next time you call me, it’d better be important.” He walked to the door, but Frank slapped his hand on it and kept him from opening it.
“Don’t tell me what to do. You work for me! Remember? I know where every penny you’ve made came from and I can bring you down.” His anger boiled inside him. “Do not cross me.” Frank stood back and straightened his jacket. “I need to discuss how much time I have to bring more capital in to cover the investments I’ve made. And what legal measures I have to prolong that time.”
Eyes narrowed and arms crossed, Cyrus stayed put. “I’ll be glad to help you with that, Frank. As long as you don’t bring up the Brennan mess again.”
“Fine.” He slicked his hair back. “I just needed to vent and lost my temper.”
“Good.” Cyrus walked back to the chair. “And, of course, I’ll be charging my regular fees.”
Frank seethed. Everyone wanted his money. “Of course.” He pasted on his business smile. But as soon as he got his hands on the rest of the company, he’d change even more things around here. Greedy lawyers and annoying secretaries could easily be replaced.
Cassidy walked out of the roadhouse wearing her favorite pair of riding pants and the soft, brown leather boots her father had given her for her birthday last year. Every once in a while it sure was nice to not be in a dress and apron. Slinging her bag wi
th her other clothes and water canteen over her shoulder, she looked forward to a bit of time away from the hustle and bustle of the hotel. Quiet. Mountains. And lots of fresh air. Just like what they used to have all the time. Before they joined the staff at the Curry. And exactly what she needed after the hectic busyness of the past few weeks, and especially the last few days.
Her father seemed changed since his return from Anchorage. She’d tried to talk to him about it last night, but he only told her it would work itself out. Then there was Allan. Friendly one minute and sullen the next. Almost as if the man fought some unseen war and the Curry Hotel was the battlefield. But why? She’d been praying for him and knew her father needed the help, but Allan Brennan was a conundrum.
As she made her way to the horses, Cassidy shook her head of the worrisome thoughts, let her hair out of its tight updo, and braided it. Much better. And much more conducive to trail riding in the park. Maybe they’d see some caribou. But hopefully not any grizzlies. She plumb didn’t have the energy to deal with that today.
Her father rode up next to her. “I’m glad Fitzgerald cleared you to go with us today. You looked like you needed it.”
“I look that bad, huh?” Cassidy winked at her father. “As the agent for the railroad, Mr. Fitzgerald knew it was best to listen to Mrs. Johnson’s advice. After all, she usually gets what she wants. And after Mr. Bradley’s surprise announcement yesterday about this event, I must admit it has been grueling. But I love what I do.”
“I know, dear.” He looked off into the distance. “And I’m glad for it.”
“What about you?” Cassidy eyed him seriously. “You know I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine. There’s a matter that needs my attention, but doesn’t need to worry you. I promise it will be resolved and everything will be fine.”
“I wish you’d confide in me.” She touched his arm. “We’ve always talked through our troubles in the past.”
Her father patted her hand. “And we will continue to do so, but this is something I have to do alone. At least for now.”
She pasted on a smile. Stubborn man. “So Thomas and Allan will be joining us today?”
Her father looked solemn and nodded.
“What kind of expedition do you have planned?” Over the years, his work for the railroad had taken him many places along the line from Seward to Fairbanks. He’d been known as the resident expert since the president of the railroad hired him to take him out surveying before the national park was in place. Dad always loved this kind of thing. But perhaps he hadn’t been feeling well. What if he’d seen a doctor in Anchorage and received bad news? After all, he’d just commented on having to do this alone. If it was something physical, he would naturally feel that way.
They rode in quiet silence for a few seconds. “I just need to show Allan what it’s really like out here, what the railroad’s plans are for eventual expeditions into the park from the hotel and from McKinley Park. And Thomas . . . well, he has a lot to learn about everything. But I can tell he loves the outdoors. He might make a very handy assistant one day.”
“Isn’t Allan your assistant right now?”
“Yes. But he was hired on to apprentice under me so that eventually there would be another full-time guide. We’ll both need adequate assistants if we are to fulfill all the plans the board has for us.”
Their horses meandered to the stream where Dad had instructed the others to meet them. Dismounting, he picked up the gear that awaited them and settled some on Cassidy’s horse, and the other supplies to his own.
She breathed in deep. Oh, how she loved the mountain air. And from here, there was nothing to intrude on the fresh scent. No trains, laundry, ovens, or even smelly kitchen boys. Glorious. Just glorious.
Closing her eyes, Cassidy let it all wash over her. It was here in the shadow of Denali that she felt God’s presence so strongly. She could almost hear Him speak in the rustling trees and the rippling streams. His power in the majesty and glory of the panoramic beauty spread out before her.
“Thank You, Lord.” She barely breathed aloud. She wanted nothing more than to spend the day in praise and worship. But hoofbeats behind her broke her reverie and she opened her eyes. No need for Allan to think she was a silly female who daydreamed all the time.
“All right. Looks like we have everyone.” Her father moved to her left as Allan and Thomas rode up. “We’re going to head west over some rough terrain, so take your time. The horses—as long as they aren’t pushed—will secure their footing. I’d like both of you men to take note of your surroundings at all times, including the plant life and animals you see. I’ll answer any questions you have.”
“What about Miss Cassidy, sir?” Thomas’s voice squeaked a bit on the end.
Her father patted the young man’s shoulder. “Thank you for worrying about my daughter, but she knows almost as much as I do about Alaska. She can handle herself.”
“Well, I don’t know about knowing almost as much as you, but I did have a good teacher.” Even with her banter, she couldn’t seem to persuade her father to truly smile.
“Does everyone know how to use the rifle attached to your saddle?” Dad asked, then continued, “Prayerfully, we won’t need them, but just in case we come across some aggressive wildlife, it’s best to be prepared.”
Manipulating the lever action of the Winchester, Allan checked to see if the weapon was loaded. Cassidy knew his response would meet with her father’s approval. From the time she was little, Dad had always said the first thing to do when handling a firearm was to check to see whether or not it was loaded.
Thomas shook his head. “I’ve never fired any gun, Mr. Ivanoff.”
“Thanks for your honesty, Thomas. I’ll be sure to teach you the proper handling of weapons. Stick close to me and you’ll be fine.”
“I’m good to go.” Allan sheathed his rifle.
“All right, then. Cassidy, you go ahead and take the lead on this first section. Thomas, you follow her, then Allan, and I will bring up the rear. Keep your eyes open.”
Cassidy didn’t need any more encouragement. With the wind at her back, she prodded her horse over the stream and into a steady walk. Thomas was full of questions for her father, so she listened to the men’s voices behind her and enjoyed the beauty of the day and the mountains before her.
“Are you a fisherman, Thomas?” Dad’s question filled the air.
Cassidy didn’t bother to hear the young man’s answer. They had emerged from a thicket of spruce into the open moraine, where a lush green carpet of vegetation was brightened considerably by the first fuchsia blossoms of fireweed. Not far away, an Arctic fox skittered for cover while several young caribou danced across the field under the watchful eye of the High One. The view took her breath. It must have done the same for the others because everyone went silent.
They rode on in awe. Cassidy remembered other trips she’d made with her father. Over the years they’d camped in places just like this, enduring all seasons in order for her to learn everything she could about surviving off the land. It was on those trips Dad shared stories about their Athabaskan ancestors and some of the lore they had handed down from generation to generation. It was in a setting just like this that Cassidy learned that falling in love for the first time didn’t necessarily require another person.
When she looked down at her watch, an hour had passed. Dad and the others were in an intense conversation about the various species of trees and vegetation. Thomas didn’t know what any of the plant life was called, but Allan proved he’d studied before coming to Alaska. As they neared another, larger stream, Cassidy pulled her horse to a stop and turned to glance at the men.
“Are we ready for a rest?”
“I think so.” Dad looked at the others and nodded.
The guys all dismounted at the stream.
“I need to stretch.” Allan reached high. “I haven’t been on a horse for a while.”
Thomas wandered off a ways. �
��Mr. Ivanoff, what is this?”
Cassidy’s feet hadn’t even touched the ground when she turned. Gasping, she realized what Thomas was reaching for and jumped. “Thomas! Don’t touch it!” She took off racing toward him, her father not far behind.
Their young charge yanked his hands back and held them aloft as if someone were holding a gun up to him. “I’m sorry!”
Cassidy smiled as she reached him and sucked in big gulps of air. “Don’t apologize. It’s all right. But did you touch it?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“Let’s go rinse it off in the stream just to be safe.” She grabbed Thomas by the shoulder and dragged the poor lad over to the water. “That’s pushki—cow parsnip. And while it can be eaten once it’s peeled and has lovely flowers, if you touch the hairy stem, it emits a chemical in the sap that will burn you in the sunlight and will itch like the dickens. You’ll be miserable for days. And we don’t want that, now, do we?”
He shook his head.
“Why don’t you wash up real good in the stream and we’ll take a break.”
Dad and Allan had followed them to the stream, and both men nodded in agreement.
“I’d actually like to speak with you privately, sir, if you don’t mind.” Allan clasped his hands behind his back.
Her father nodded, but his face was serious indeed. “I had a feeling you would.” He extended an arm. “Why don’t we head upstream?” He turned toward her. “Cassidy, would you save me some of that wonderful lemonade?” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “And keep Thomas out of trouble.”
“Of course, Dad.” She plastered a big smile on her face, hoping to convince him that she didn’t suspect a thing. Which, of course, was far from the truth.
As she brought items out of the saddlebags, she wondered what Allan Brennan could possibly have to speak to her father about. In private, no less.
Allan Brennan. Brennan. Hmm. Dad had been upset after hearing the last name Brennan. What could have troubled him so?
Laying out the leftover tea cakes and cream, it all came back to her. The man who died on her father’s expedition up Mount McKinley had been named Henry. Henry Brennan. She covered her mouth and tried to think. What should she do? She remembered her father telling her that Henry’s business partner blamed him for Brennan’s death. In fact, he vowed to ruin John. Was that why Allan had come? Was the job merely a ruse to get close to his enemy? To think she thought him handsome—gracious, what had come over her? The questions poured out one on top of the other like a waterfall. Would Allan try to hurt her father? No. He didn’t seem to be bent on revenge. But she didn’t really know him, did she? And that look. When he was standing on the platform. Was that why he was here? How could she have been so taken in?
In the Shadow of Denali Page 6
