In the Shadow of Denali

by Tracie Peterson

  “What?”

  “It says that he chose not to ‘defile himself’ with the king’s food—he wouldn’t take it! This made the man in charge of them upset because it was his job to make these good-looking young men look even better and get even smarter. So Daniel asked the man—his name was Melzar—to allow them only to eat pulse and water for ten days and then to compare them to the rest so that he could prove to him they weren’t going to starve or look worse. But they didn’t want to disobey God.”

  “What is pulse?”

  “Seeds and vegetables.”

  “That’s not much to keep them going, is it?”

  Cassidy thought about that for a moment. “I guess I never really thought about it that way, but you’re right. Melzar agreed to do as Daniel asked and when the ten days were up, guess what happened?”

  Thomas was intently focused on the story. “What?”

  “Verse fifteen says, ‘And at the end of ten days their countenances appeared fairer and fatter in flesh than all the children which did eat the portion of the king’s meat.’ So Daniel and his three friends looked better than all the others, and then verse twenty tells us that at the end of the three years of their training and supposed great fattening up from the king’s good food, ‘the king found them ten times better than all the magicians and astrologers that were in all his realm.’ So they were smarter and wiser too, and they were only probably around eighteen or nineteen years old at this point.”

  “Huh.” Thomas frowned. “How’d they do it?”

  “They didn’t do it. God did. And they simply obeyed.”

  “You like that story?” His brow crinkled even more.

  “I do.”

  “Why?”

  That was a question she’d never been asked. “Well, I guess because it makes me want to be like Daniel.”

  “You want to be kidnapped and taken away?”

  “No, but it makes me wonder how I would fare if something like that happened to me. My life has been easy, full of love and fun. I’ve never had any hard challenges come my way, and I want to be willing to stand firm when they do.” Saying it out loud made her thoughts more real. Her life had been just about perfect. And definitely easy. Here, she’d been wallowing in thoughts of loneliness and longing for things the Good Lord hadn’t blessed her with yet. It was shameful how selfish she’d been.

  “Is that why you’re so positive all the time?”

  Another question that nudged her to think. Was it? Was it easy to be positive and encouraging and happy when things were good because that’s pretty much all she’d known? “I don’t really know, Thomas. I like to be an encourager, yes, but I want to be more than that.”

  “I think you’re pretty perfect just the way you are, Cassidy.”

  “Oh, but I’m not.” The more she examined her heart, the more she wanted to learn. A sudden and new craving for the Word overwhelmed her. “Thank you, Thomas. For helping me to see so clearly today.”

  “I didn’t do nothing.” A blush crept up his cheeks.

  “Yes, you did.” Cassidy stood up and straightened her shoulders. “No matter what, I want to dare to be a Daniel. And I don’t think I’ve been doing a very good job. But that’s going to change.”

  The two days since Thomas had talked to Cassidy passed way too fast. And there hadn’t been much chance to speak with her since. But he’d thought about her. A lot.

  And what she’d said. About Daniel. Thomas couldn’t get those thoughts out of his mind. He had a lot of questions. More than anything, he longed to make something of himself. Not always be labeled as an orphan. But how?

  Could Cassidy’s Bible have more answers in it? He never knew there was a story of a boy his age doing anything significant. Now he wanted to learn more.

  He wanted to be a man. And an honorable one. One people respected. And one who didn’t drop things or stumble over things. Daniel had been well respected by the king himself when he was only eighteen. Could Thomas learn that much in a year?

  As he carried another tub of scraps out to the feed shed, Thomas spotted Mr. Ivanoff. He wanted to be like Cassidy’s father. The older man knew so much about everything and loved to teach other people.

  And boy was he patient. Every day Thomas had worked for him, Mr. Ivanoff never lost his patience—even when Thomas messed up. Unlike Mrs. Johnson, who made him feel like he was in the army every time she barked her commands or scolded him for another mistake.

  He watched Mr. Ivanoff walk down to the roundhouse where they did maintenance on the railroad engines. Maybe he could catch him later today and ask him for help.

  If anyone could teach him about how to be a man, it’d be John Ivanoff. And maybe he could teach him more about the Bible too.

  Allan stared up at the ceiling for a long time. Sleep was slow in coming and unfortunately that gave him more than enough time to think. He thought about his trip to Alaska and all that he’d hoped to accomplish and realized that very little of it had been done.

  He’d found John and had been able to ask about his father’s death, but the answers had been less than helpful. He’d found his own love of Alaska and undeniable feelings for one of her daughters. Cassidy Ivanoff was unlike the women he’d known in Seattle. Even his sisters were far more concerned about their appearance or the quality of their furnishings. Many of the women who moved in his family’s social circles didn’t even know how to cook, much less enjoy it as much as he’d heard Cassidy did.

  But always there was a barrier between them.

  “I can’t very well pursue her unless I resolve my anger with her father and Dad’s death,” he whispered to himself.

  But Allan wasn’t even sure that anger still existed. For so long he’d been mad at John and what had happened. Even worse, Allan had been mad at God. He still was. God had given him the very best of fathers and then, like a greedy child—had taken him back. No warning. No concern for the people who were left with the loss. God had even chosen the very poorest of timing. Allan hadn’t been able to be there to comfort his mother when she learned of her husband’s death.

  “It wasn’t fair.” He shook his head. “You aren’t fair. You demand too much.”

  It was the first time he’d talked to God in a very long time, and for a moment, despite his mix of emotions, Allan felt a connection that had long been absent. It was as he’d felt when he and his father had prayed together. The feeling passed much too quickly, however, and the anger and disappointment returned. Would he ever be able to put this behind him? Would he never find peace again?

  11

  The cloudy skies and drizzly rain reflected Allan’s mood. The week since the President came through flew by with more training from John, plans for future expeditions, and preparation for nature walks and fishing trips. His brain felt at times like it would explode with all the information. But what was worse? The misery he felt. He’d asked for John’s patience with him after the older man had sought forgiveness. And everything within him wanted to like and respect John. A lot.

  Not only John, but his beautiful daughter as well.

  A couple of times this past week, he’d spotted her hiking up Deadhorse Hill long before anyone but the night crew were awake, her long dark hair in a simple braid down her back. That familiar pull whenever he was near her tugged at him again. But he had no idea what to do with his feelings. He was not in a good place right now.

  All his dreams about Alaska were coming true. He just hadn’t expected to meet John. Or to like the man. He wanted to forgive him. He did. But how?

  And then there was Cassidy. Loyal, dedicated, fun-loving, encouraging Cassidy. The more he was around her, the more he was drawn to her.

  She probably didn’t even have a clue the attention she generated around the hotel. From wealthy guests all the way down to Thomas—the men adored her. And not just her attractive looks. But the way she made everyone feel loved and special. How did she do that? Allan didn’t even like himself half the time.

&nbs
p; Walking to the front desk, Allan tried to corral his thoughts back to the tasks of the day. Somehow he needed to shake off this gloomy attitude.

  “Mr. Brennan, you have a letter.” Mrs. McGovern waved it in the air.

  “Thank you.” Taking the envelope, he saw the return address was from Seattle. He checked his watch. Not enough time to go back to his room, but he could head downstairs to the section gang dining room and find a little privacy.

  As he opened the envelope and read the first few lines, he wished he’d saved it for later.

  Allan,

  Hopefully you know that I think of you as the son I never had. And so I must speak my mind. I am appalled to find out that you are apprenticing for the very man who killed your father. As your father’s longtime friend and business partner, I must advise you against any further work with this man. He is not to be trusted. He should never be allowed to work again as a guide. How dare he masquerade as an expert? To the presidential delegation as well! I’m horrified.

  What does your mother think? Have you told her? I can only imagine the heartache this will bring to her. It’s time you gave up this foolishness and returned home. I can’t stand by and watch you destroy your relationship with your family by befriending the very man who took it all away. In fact, I think you need to go to the legal authorities and find out if there’s a way to press charges against this man. Just the thought of him makes my blood boil. It should do the same for you.

  I await your response,

  Frank

  While Allan knew that Frank blamed John and that he cared for the Brennan family as if they were blood, he also knew that hatred and anger couldn’t be the answer here. Hadn’t he just decided it would be right to forgive John?

  But Frank had been family for a long time. What if Allan had been wrong to trust John? Was he a charlatan? Or was Frank the one who was lying? Allan hated to admit it, but over the years—with all Allan had witnessed—he didn’t really trust Frank.

  How could he find out who was truly responsible for his father’s death?

  The walk from the water tower to the hotel was short. Too short. John needed more time to think, so he turned around and started back. The reservations from the wealthy flowed in on a daily basis, and with them came the requests to be taken on “real Alaskan adventures”—the men wanted to fish and see bear, and the women wanted to see the mountains and flowers. Most of these people had enough money to do whatever they wanted, but they were choosing to come to Alaska and give up amenities they were accustomed to so they could lay claim to conquering this last frontier.

  The groups that had come in so far had been a little shocked at how “primitive” the Alaska Territory was compared to the city life they knew. No real cities to speak of. Not much development. Very few roads; only the railroad connected Fairbanks to Seward. People living without electricity and running water. Leaning shacks were labeled as hotels or roadhouses. The list could go on and on—all the interesting facts about this land that surprised the tourists.

  But how he loved this land. This had been a great dream for him to come and be the expedition guide for the hotel.

  Then Allan had arrived. Only God could have orchestrated that one—to bring the very son of the man he’d lost on Denali to his doorstep. And not just to the hotel, but to work for him. John hadn’t been the same since. All those emotions roiled each day when he saw Allan.

  But it had to stop. Allan might never truly forgive him. And John needed to be all right with that. He wasn’t doing his job as well as he should with this weight pressing down on him every day, and in Alaska that could turn deadly. Cassidy worried about him, even though he’d tried to convince her he was fine.

  At this point, he was just surviving from day to day. That wasn’t good enough.

  Allan was eager to learn, even though things were often strained between them, and John couldn’t blame the young man for that. But his apprentice needed the Lord. Plain and simple.

  John’s heart ached for him—not just for the loss of his father, but for Allan’s eternity—and he prayed for wisdom, but God seemed to be silent on this one.

  As his steps took him past the water tower and to the very edge of Curry, the churning in his thoughts increased and John cried out to the Lord.

  It’s too much, Father. This burden. I can’t carry it any longer, but I know You can. Please take this from me. Show me what I need to do, because I’m lost in this shadow of grief. Grief for the Brennan family’s loss, but also for the loss of my dreams through it. I’ve admitted to Allan that I take full responsibility, but for all these years, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to think that I had failed in any way. Please forgive me, Father.

  John found himself at the river’s edge, tears streaming down his face. He hadn’t even realized he’d been crying. But a new peace flooded him. And the weight was gone. Why hadn’t he given this over to the Lord weeks ago?

  A memory came to mind—a pleasant one of the wife he’d lost so many years ago. Eliza had been wise beyond her years. Perhaps that was due to being the child of a preacher or from living on the mission field, but whatever it was, she seemed to have unusual insight for one so young.

  John wanted to please Eliza’s parents, and when he heard her mother say she’d like to have her walkway rocked, John saw it as the perfect opportunity to win her over. That night while everyone slept, John dug and carried load after load of rock in sacks on his back to the worn dirt paths that constituted the walkways. The sacks rubbed blisters on his back, and the strain on his muscles left him miserable the next day. However, the walkway had its rock and Eliza’s mother seemed pleased, although she never said so. At least not to him.

  The next day, John saw Eliza watching him as he struggled to tend to his chores. Surely she knew that he’d been responsible for the improvement to the walk. With his shirt off, he also knew she could see the sores on his back, yet she chided him rather than offer praise.

  “You bore a burden no one asked you to bear, John Ivanoff, and now yer sufferin’ for it.”

  And here he was doing it again decades later.

  “Well, that seems to be the way with me.” He glanced heavenward and smiled. “It’s all Yours, Lord.”

  With a new lightness and determination to his step, John headed back to the hotel. He had excursions to plan and an apprentice to guide. The rest he would leave in God’s hands.

  The morning passed in a blur of activities. John and Allan sat together at one of the section gang tables in the basement, planning day-trips. Papers and maps were strewn across the length of the eight-foot table.

  “Mr. Ivanoff!” Thomas came down the stairs and missed the bottom step but caught himself before he fell. “Here’s a telegram for you.” He straightened his tray. “I’ve got to get back to the kitchen, but Mrs. McGovern asked me to bring it to you straightaway.”

  “Thank you, Thomas.” John took the envelope and tried to cover his smile. He glanced at Allan, who also appeared to be struggling to keep a straight face.

  “You’re welcome, but I have to get right back. Mrs. Johnson will have my hide if I don’t see to the trash.” With that Thomas darted back up the stairs.

  “It’s amazing he hasn’t broken a leg or an arm, isn’t it?”

  Allan nodded. “I remember being clumsy as a kid, but I’ve never seen the likes of it. I’m surprised Mrs. Johnson allowed him to come back to the kitchen.”

  “Cassidy said she wasn’t overly keen on it, but they needed the help. A kitchen that big requires a lot of hands to get things done.”

  Smiling, Allan gave a shrug. “It can’t be all that helpful if you have to redo things because someone makes a mess of them the first time through.”

  The smile on his face proved to John that the younger man was working through his issues. Perhaps they were both learning to lay their demons to rest.

  “So I take it that must be another request?”

  John turned the envelope over. “Most likely.” He open
ed it with a sigh. The summer schedule kept getting busier and busier. Eventually, they would be so full that they’d have to turn people away. He’d heard rumors that the railroad already planned to expand the Curry Hotel.

  Unfolding the missive, he glanced it over:

  23 July 1923Group of twenty experienced riders wish to trek into new N.P. (stop)Will pay top dollar for horses and supplies (stop)Hear you are the expert (stop)Wish to see glaciers and Denali up close (stop)Arriving 25 July (stop)George Barker and company

  “Good grief, they don’t want much, do they?” Allan stretched his arms behind his head.

  John pulled out the large calendar they’d been working on, and Allan lowered his arms and leaned forward. He pointed to the schedule. “Even if we leave on the twenty-sixth, that only allows four days before our next major commitments. With the new signs we just put up and the trails trimmed, there’s other staff who could handle a few of the nature walks without us. Even Cassidy could do it if Mrs. Johnson would spare her.”

  He pointed to one of the date squares with a star on it. “We’ve got to be back for the thirty-first. It’s a good fifteen miles to the Ruth Glacier, which would be the only logical place to take them. But we’ll have to get a boat to take us and the horses across the Susitna River. Once across, we’ll climb the ridge and cross Troublesome Creek and then the Chulitna River.”

  “Even with mountainous terrain, the fifteen miles could be accomplished in a day.” Allan studied the map.

  John nodded. “Yes, but I’m not sure about how ‘experienced’ these riders truly are. We could definitely tell them that is the goal for the first day. Then again, they might make that first ridge and see everything they want to see and decide to head back. I suppose we should just be grateful they aren’t asking to climb one of the mountains in the range. I’m always amazed at the people who show up here thinking they can just launch into a full-scale mountaineering experience. I wish they’d seek information about these things prior to showing up.” The words were no sooner out of his mouth than John wished he could take them back. He hadn’t meant to give any reminders to the past.