“Thomas, I need you to keep an eye on the horses. I’ll be right back.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Grabbing the jug of lemonade for an excuse to intrude in case she needed one, Cassidy raced off to find her father.
Hopefully before it was too late.
6
Why didn’t you tell me who you were on the train?” Allan couldn’t hold it in any longer.
John sat on a large boulder at the edge of the stream. “I didn’t know who you were. As far as I remember, we didn’t exchange surnames.”
It wasn’t until they’d shaken hands in front of the hotel that Allan had first heard John’s last name. He was right. There was no reason for either one of them to know who the other was.
“I’m sure you want to know more about the 1917 expedition up Denali.” John gazed at the water.
“And the death of my father, yes.” He didn’t mean to sound so angry, but his patience was gone, his voice tight and thick. Every negative thing Frank ever told him about the expedition came back to haunt him now. Pleasantries would get them nowhere—Allan simply had to know. Today.
John seemed in no hurry to speak, but he at least had the decency to offer an uncomfortable expression as he shifted his weight.
“Well?”
“Your father was one of the most intriguing men I’ve ever met. We became good friends over the weeks of our journey. Unlike his partner, Frank, Henry and I loved everything about the expedition—being outdoors, climbing . . .” He turned his head completely away.
“What?”
“We had some incredible theological conversations as well. Your father really knew his stuff. He helped me to overcome some anger and resentment toward my wife’s parents that I’d long since buried.”
“I’m sure he did.” Allan grimaced. His faith had waned after the death of his father, leaving in its wake resentment toward God. God, who could have kept his father alive, but didn’t. Allan knew his father would have reprimanded him for his attitude—had he been alive. But he was dead and that was why they were here having this conversation in the first place.
“John, I need to know what happened to my father. And I need to know now. I don’t want to discuss politics or religion or any other nonsense.” He knew he sounded like a child having a tantrum.
The man ducked his head, gave a heavy sigh, and then looked him square in the eye. “Son, I can tell you’re hurting, but your father had a deep faith. He hardly thought it nonsense.”
“Perhaps he was a fool for his beliefs.” Allan didn’t know where that had come from. He’d never thought of his father in that way.
As if reading his mind, John countered, “Your father was a better man than most I’ve known, and I don’t appreciate you disrespecting him in such a way.”
“How dare you!” Disrespect? And this man claimed to know his father after a few measly weeks? “What about the disrespect you are showing by not being honest with me?”
John stood. “I don’t mean any disrespect, son.”
“Stop calling me son! My father was the only one with that right.” He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but now that things had taken that turn, he was hard-pressed to contain his agitation. “I need answers, John.”
“I know . . . Allan.” He sighed long and hard. “Because I needed them too. I think I still do. The day your father died was one of the worst of my life. Made even more so because of the circumstances.”
Allan couldn’t take it any longer. “What exactly were those circumstances? Because Frank told me it was all your fault. Was it? Are you to blame for my father’s death?”
“Now, you wait just a minute, Mr. Brennan!” Cassidy’s voice came from behind him.
He turned and narrowed his eyes, watching her stomp through the thick tundra grass.
“I am so sorry that you lost your father”—she set a jug of something down on a rock and planted her hands on her hips—“but I can’t believe you would stoop to blaming my father! Your father knew the risk he took when he hired Dad to take him up the mountain. Dad would have made those dangers very clear.”
“Cassidy, please.” John straightened, his stance wide and imposing. “If you’re going to stay, I need you to be quiet and listen.” His voice was firm.
She huffed and crossed her arms.
Allan calmed a bit. Something about Cassidy’s indignation shamed him. Where had all this ugliness and anger come from? Would that make his father proud? He removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “I just want to know the truth.” He stopped short of apologizing for his tirade.
“I wish I knew, Allan. I wish I knew.” John walked closer and stood only a yard away, staring at the mountain. “The trip up was fairly good. We had a few problems here and there, but otherwise it was uneventful. The weather held—surprisingly so. We summited the southern peak around 2:00 p.m. that day. Your father was so proud and all smiles. After we placed the marker in the snow, I noticed the weather was turning rapidly.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “So we started our descent immediately. There was a rope between all of us so we couldn’t lose each other in the blinding snow. I watched him secure it around his waist. By now there was no need to double-check his work.” Several moments passed as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. “The wind picked up—light at first and then it became fierce and turned into a whiteout. As the seasoned climber I went first, to make certain the footing would be sure. Frank followed and then Henry.”
“Why was my father last?”
“Because he was more experienced than Frank. Simple as that. Frank didn’t seem to care; he just wanted down. I think he knew how out of place he was compared to your father and me.”
Allan nodded. “Go on.”
“We didn’t stop moving. Just worked our way down in the storm. The stronger the wind grew, the more I gave serious thought to stopping and putting up shelter, but I felt confident we could make our high camp. We pressed on with very little visibility, and I felt a great sense of relief when we reached the camp. That is, until I discovered Henry was no longer behind Frank. And the rope was intact.”
Allan felt a chill go through him. “So what are you saying?”
“I don’t know what happened to him. The only way for the rope to be intact was if Henry untied it himself.”
“Why would he untie the rope? Wouldn’t he have told Frank if he did that?”
“The storm was too much—you couldn’t hear anything above the wind’s roar. And you couldn’t see anything—not even your hand in front of your face.”
“So you just left him there?” Allan’s anger mixed with his sorrow.
A silent tear traced a path down the older man’s face. “No. I would never abandon a man.” He came closer and laid a hand on Allan’s shoulder. Allan wanted to move away but found he couldn’t. It was as if an invisible force held him in place.
“We had to wait the storm out at the camp, but I told Frank I wasn’t going on without Henry. He balked at the idea, but I think it was because he was coming down with something. He had a terrible fever once the storm was past. So I left him in a tent and went in search of your father.”
Allan closed his eyes. “You went back for him?” Frank never mentioned that.
“I searched for two days, Allan. Up and down the same path we had taken. The only conclusion I could come to is that he lost his breath and couldn’t keep up, so he must have untied the rope to take a break rather than get dragged and fall. It’s not unusual when a man is oxygen deprived and disoriented for him to make poor decisions. We were all suffering a bit of altitude sickness, but your father seemed the best out of all of us. He’d been completely rational and able to maneuver on top of the summit. Still the storm could have caused him to panic. Once he was detached from us, he could have gotten lost, fallen into a crevasse, or any number of things. I searched for hours on end, but at the conclusion of two days, I knew it was pointless. Frank was worse and I had an obligation to get him safely down before
I lost another man on the mountain.”
Allan’s eyes snapped open. “Frank has always blamed you for what happened.”
“No more than I blame myself. I was responsible for that expedition. I was the one with experience. I was the one who signed on to take them. It was . . . my fault.”
The man was more than willing to accept his part in what happened, but what had happened? Allan felt no closer to the answer than when they’d begun the conversation. Worse still, there was no sense of satisfaction in John’s declaration and acceptance of responsibility.
Anger radiated throughout him, even more than before. All these years . . . he’d believed everything Frank told him. But maybe that’s why Frank blamed John—because he couldn’t bear his own guilt over not knowing what happened to his partner.
Cassidy gave Allan a look he couldn’t decipher and went to her father. “Dad, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you went back to try to find him. Is that how you lost those toes? When you went searching?”
John looked down at his daughter. “It was easier for me to keep it to myself. I didn’t handle the loss of Henry very well, and you were only seventeen. You didn’t need any more burdens to carry. And a little frostbite for me was nothing compared to the loss of a friend.”
Allan couldn’t bear the conversation between father and daughter. No one else should be hurting! He was the one who lost his father. “If you’ll excuse me. I need a few moments.”
Walking away from the Ivanoffs, he tried to make sense of all he’d just heard. What happened? If John saved Frank’s life by getting him down the mountain, then why did Frank blame John for Henry’s death? Was Frank even lucid at that point? Or was that how Frank coped with the loss of his lifelong friend?
The emotions roiling inside him were more than he could manage.
Why did Dad untie his rope?
Tuesday’s staff meeting in the downstairs kitchen was packed. Cassidy squeezed through a group of the maids to be near Mrs. Johnson.
“How was the dedication service yesterday?” the older lady whispered to her as others continued to gather.
The staff had gotten back to the hotel at such a late hour there hadn’t been time to talk about the service and then this morning there had been so much to catch up on, Cassidy hadn’t had a chance to fill Mrs. Johnson in on the details.
“The dedication was lovely.” Cassidy smiled. “We weren’t as close to Mount McKinley as I would have liked, but it was very nice regardless.”
“I’m glad it went well. And your trek into the park?”
“It could’ve been better.”
“Oh, really?” She straightened as Mr. Bradley entered the room and softened her voice. “Well, you can tell me about it later. Today will be busy. We have chocolate mousse on the menu as well as lemon soufflé. I’ll put you in charge of the mousse.”
Mr. Bradley cleared his throat and silence descended on the room. “The reason this morning’s staff meeting includes everyone is because we need to reiterate how important it is that the President of the United States will visit our hotel. The Curry Hotel is the prize jewel of the Alaska Railroad, and what better way to welcome our country’s leader than to show him the very best Alaska has to offer.”
Murmurs and whispered words grew through the room.
“I know you are all excited about the President’s visit, but let me continue please.”
Everyone hushed.
“Thank you. We’ve had word that the presidential party has reached Alaska via The Henderson.” Their manager held a telegram aloft and glanced at it. “In a few days, they should reach Seward. And from there, they will take the Presidential Special—a collection of elegantly appointed cars designed by our railroad for this auspicious occasion—all the way to Fairbanks. The ceremony for the completion of the railroad will be in Nenana.” He lowered the paper and pulled out his pocket watch. “Now, considering today is the tenth of July, we have roughly four and a half days to prepare for the President’s group of approximately seventy people.”
A few gasps erupted.
“Mrs. Johnson, I’d like to see your plans for the menus by three o’clock this afternoon.”
“Yes, Mr. Bradley. Miss Ivanoff and I will be in your office as scheduled.” Margaret Johnson never seemed to fear a challenge.
Cassidy felt her palms beginning to sweat. Was she up for the challenge as well?
“Mrs. McGovern, I will need a detailed schedule of the laundry and the tallies for all pieces that come through our facility. The President wishes to have an update, since we service not only the railroad and this facility, but the hospitals as well. He mentioned something about a congressional delegation, so make sure you have every detail. You will also need to have room designations.” He looked down again. “Let’s meet at three thirty.”
“Yes, sir.” There was that pinched tone again from the head housekeeper.
“Mr. Ivanoff and Mr. Brennan . . .” Mr. Bradley turned to the men on the side. “There will not be time for a lengthy expedition, but they have requested a short nature walk from our best guide to show them the splendors of Alaska.”
“Yes, sir. We will plan for such an event.” Cassidy’s dad nodded.
“Good, good. Bring your plans tomorrow.” The manager looked down at his papers again. “I believe that is all for now, but let me say again that there will be absolutely no tolerance of shenanigans in the coming days. This visit needs to be perfect. Our reputation is on the line.”
“Yes, Mr. Bradley.” The voices of the staff echoed in the room.
And off he went. Up the stairs and on to some other important task, Cassidy was sure.
Wiping her hands on her apron, she turned to Mrs. Johnson. “Do you think . . .” Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. She chewed on her lip. She needed to vent some frustration, and the very best way was trying something new. Besides, she’d wanted to ask for weeks now.
“Well? Do I think what?” The cook raised her eyebrows.
She’d never know if she didn’t try. “Do you think I could help with the soufflés tonight?”
Her boss sighed. “Hmmm . . . I know you’ve been wanting to learn, but there’s an awful lot to accomplish today. And soufflés can be very tricky, since they have to be served immediately.” Mrs. Johnson squinted. “We will be having the same two desserts on Friday. Let’s wait until then. Do you think you can get the mousses done before luncheon so they can chill? Then you’d have time to practice.”
“Yes, ma’am.” More sweat covered her palms, but she wiped it away on her apron again.
“All right, if you think you can get everything else done, you can help with them. And after our meeting with Mr. Bradley today, you can watch how I make them step by step.”
“I know I can do it. Even if I don’t take a lunch break on Friday, it will be worth it.”
Mrs. Johnson laughed. “I do love your enthusiasm, Cassidy. If only everyone could see the world through your eyes.”
If only more people really could see through Cassidy’s eyes. John’s daughter had a way of cheering everyone up—of offering help where she could. And he desperately needed help right now, but this kind of help wasn’t going to come from Cassidy.
Lord, tell me what to say.
John waited for the other staff to leave the room. Allan stood beside him, apparently waiting for instruction. The rest of their journey into the park yesterday had been—from Allan’s part—silent. Thomas asked lots of questions, John and Cassidy gave information, but the tension had been fierce as Allan refused to speak any more about the expedition.
Cassidy hugged John as they returned, and even though she didn’t say it, he knew she was struggling with anger toward Allan. Fiercely loyal, Cassidy would try to protect him from attack.
But in this case, he deserved it.
When the last person retreated up the stairs, John turned to his apprentice. “I can only imagine that this is very difficult for you, Allan. I know how much it has affected me
personally. But I do feel you are a good man. Your father was a very good man, so I’m sure he raised you to follow in his footsteps.”
Allan’s jaw tensed but he said nothing.
“The best I can do is apologize again for the tragedy of losing your father. And to say to you that I take full responsibility. I was the guide. It was my job to bring them up and down that mountain safely.” John held out his hand. “I pray that one day you will be able to forgive me.”
Allan stared back at him and then looked down at the offered hand. “I appreciate that, John. As you know, this was quite a shock for me, and I am asking for your patience in this matter as I work through the facts.”
“If you feel that you can’t work with me, I’ll find you another position.”
Allan appeared surprised by this. “No, that’s not necessary.” The younger man reached out and took John’s hand. “In the short time since my arrival in Alaska, I have already come to respect you.” He sighed. “And I owe you an apology as well. It was wrong of me to accuse you in such a way.”
“It was understandable, son. I don’t blame you for it. As to your respect, I will seek to earn it every day.” John released his hand. “But this will be a demanding summer for you, I’m afraid. There is a lot to learn, and we need to trust one another.”
Allan nodded. “I came here to learn everything I can, to follow in my father’s footsteps, and to finish what he started. I will work hard.”
In the Shadow of Denali Page 7
