In the Shadow of Denali

by Tracie Peterson

  For a moment he said nothing, and Cassidy thought she’d offended him just as she’d done with Mrs. Johnson. Why couldn’t she learn to keep her opinion to herself?

  “You know,” he said after a few more moments of silence. “I think you’re right.”

  “I didn’t mean to cause you pain.”

  He shook his head. “I needed to hear it, and coming from you . . . well . . . it didn’t seem harsh at all. You are about the most optimistic and inspiring person I think I’ve ever met.” He stopped and looked at her. “You simply amaze me.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, I will take that as a compliment.”

  “You’re good for me, Cassidy . . .” He paused. “What’s your middle name, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “Faith.”

  “I should have known. How appropriate. As I was saying, you’re good for me, Cassidy Faith Ivanoff. I need more positive influences in my life.” The brooding look was back on his face. “Now, if I can just figure out how to tear down the wall and let them in.”

  She wished more than anything she could take away his pain. If he’d been Mrs. Johnson, she might have given him a hug. But if he’d been Mrs. Johnson, she wouldn’t be dealing with the war of emotions that threatened to betray her at any moment.

  “Well, it is getting late, even though it’s still plenty light. Deceiving this time of year, isn’t it? I better get you back before your father sends out a search party.” He smiled again, that half smile that made his face even more handsome.

  She frowned. She hadn’t seen her father since before the radio broadcast. “Allan, did you know where my father was going after dinner?”

  “He wanted to check on the trail for the hiking group tomorrow.”

  “He should’ve been back by now, wouldn’t you think?”

  “I would have thought so.” Allan looked off toward the trail. “Don’t worry. You go on in and I’ll go check. I’m sure he’s fine.”

  14

  The evening light in Alaska never ceased to amaze Allan. It looked like it was still only five or six o’clock and yet it was pushing 11:00 p.m.

  He hadn’t wanted to say anything in front of Cassidy, but he’d forgotten about John. And the man should’ve been back before they ever left for their walk.

  Guilt gnawed at his gut. He should have paid closer attention to the time. Instead, he’d been absorbed by Cassidy’s presence. What if something had happened to his boss, and Allan was the only one who even knew the experienced guide had gone out to do what he always did—double-and-triple check everything. All for the care and safety of others.

  A mile up the trail, Allan spotted a waving red bandana. He couldn’t see John, which meant the man was down. He ran ahead. If only he’d been more observant. Had he been more vigilant . . . had he been more like John . . . maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

  He came upon his mentor and wanted to retch. Blood stained his shirt and left trouser leg.

  John lowered his bandana, his other arm tight about his middle and rasped, “I knew you’d find me.”

  “John, I’m so sorry it took me so long. What happened?”

  He shook his head. “You couldn’t have known, son. It’s all right.” He took a deep breath, which looked like it exhausted him. “I came upon a mama moose and her two calves. There wasn’t any time to react; I just rounded this bend and there they were.” He leaned his head back on the ground. “I backed up quietly, trying to put some space between us, but the mama probably thought I was after her babies, and she came after me with her hooves. She got in a couple of swift kicks and knocked me down. Then she left. Thankfully, she didn’t stay to trample me some more.”

  Allan went into survivor mode. John had lost a lot of blood and it was more than a mile back to the hotel. He quickly took off his jacket and button-up shirt.

  “Here.” John lifted his jacket to Allan. “Use this too.”

  Tearing the bottom of his shirt into long strips, Allan used the material to bind John’s leg. Then he folded John’s jacket and pressed it against the wound in his abdomen and used the top of his shirt with the long sleeves to wrap around John’s midsection as a bandage and tied it as tight as he could. “This will have to do for now, but maybe it will help us get back to the hotel.”

  “Thank you.” John’s words were weak.

  “Stay with me, John. I need you to stay awake.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Allan assessed the situation. He was going to have to carry him down the trail. John had lost too much blood to leave and come back with help. “This isn’t going to be comfortable, but I’m going to have to lift you like a sack of potatoes over my shoulder if we’re going to make it back. Hopefully that jacket will give the wound in your abdomen some padding, but I don’t know how else to do it.”

  “Do what you have to do. I’ll make it.”

  Helping John to his feet, Allan hoped he’d have the strength to make it back. His boss was a solid, muscular, and tall man. He crouched down and let John lean over his shoulders and back. Allan grabbed John’s right arm and right leg and lifted. As he balanced the man’s weight on his shoulders, John moaned.

  “I’m sorry, John.”

  “It’s all right. Now that I’m up, I’m okay.”

  Brave words. But Allan knew they weren’t true. Now he just needed to make it back to the hotel in time.

  Step after step down the trail, Allan tried not to jostle his cargo too much. John had long since passed out. Probably from the pain or the loss of blood. It didn’t matter. Just made it all the more urgent.

  Allan’s thoughts returned to Cassidy and their conversation earlier. A realization hit him square in the face. He cared about these people. A lot. Somewhere along the way they had managed to find a hole in his wall.

  John was more than just his boss. He’d become his friend. Allan respected him and wanted to learn all he could from him. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that John reminded him of his father. All the best parts of him.

  And then there was Cassidy. With her dark, inquisitive eyes. And her constantly positive outlook.

  He couldn’t deny it. He wanted their friendship to grow.

  “Mr. Brennan! Mr. Brennan!”

  Allan couldn’t see anyone yet, but that sure did sound like Thomas—and what a beautiful sound it was.

  Footsteps got closer and then he could see the young man running up the path.

  “Mr. Brennan, is Mr. Ivanoff all right?”

  Allan kept moving down the trail, afraid to stop and lose the steady momentum. “He’s been kicked by a moose. I need you to run back and tell Mr. Bradley. Ask him to get the medic and to prepare a room in the hotel for John. It’s not pretty.”

  “Yes, sir.” Thomas nodded and took off at a sprint.

  The sight of Thomas renewed Allan’s energy. They would be ready to help John as soon as he made it to the hotel, so he simply needed to place one foot in front of the other and make his way down the trail.

  Cassidy paced the lobby of the hotel while a few of the other men went out to help Allan the rest of the way.

  When they entered the front door, Allan had her father over his shoulders. He looked exhausted, but his eyes found hers and pierced her heart. He nodded to her and went down to his knees, while three other men lifted her father off of him.

  She followed them down the hallway but looked back at Allan, still kneeling in the lobby. His white undershirt was soaked in blood. Her father’s blood.

  Cassidy’s voice choked. “Thank you.” She didn’t wait for his response but hurried to join her father.

  The medic wouldn’t let her in the room and had placed Mr. Bradley as guard at the door. “This isn’t something your father would want you to see. Right now he needs the medic’s full attention and you would be a distraction. I’ll come get you as soon as we know anything.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Mr. Bradley. I’ll just wait out here.”

 
He nodded and closed the door.

  She leaned against the wall and then slid down it, pulling her knees up to her chest. She couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. Lord, please don’t let him die. He’s all I have.

  All the conversations from the past few days sprang into her mind. That she was little Miss Sunshine, had lived a fairy-tale life, and was always positive.

  She didn’t feel so optimistic right now. Instead, loneliness gripped her again. What would she do if she lost her father? He’d always been there.

  Sobs shook her shoulders and she buried her face in her apron.

  An arm wrapped around her shoulder. “Cassidy, shhh, it’s okay. I’m here.” Mrs. Johnson’s voice sounded almost lyrical. “Allan came and got me. He thought you might need a shoulder.”

  Lifting her head, she sobbed harder and threw herself into the woman’s arms. They sat on the floor rocking for what seemed like hours. She owed Allan so much. He knew . . . somehow he knew that she’d need comfort from a motherly figure. And even though Mrs. Johnson could be all prickles and rough edges, she was the only one Cassidy wanted right now. Other than her father.

  A tap on her shoulder brought her awake in a snap. Cassidy sat up. “Dad?” The medic stood before her, blood on his jacket.

  “He’s all right. And he’ll mend. Took quite a beating and lost a lot of blood, but I’ve got him stitched up. I don’t think there’s severe internal damage, but we’ll keep an eye out for swelling in the abdomen and blood in his urine. There will be a lot of bruising, and we’ll have to watch him for infection, but I think in a few weeks, he’ll be back to full strength.”

  She nodded. “Thank you . . . ?” It hit her that she didn’t even know the man’s name.

  “It’s Larry. And you’re welcome.”

  She scrubbed her face with her hands and looked at Mrs. Johnson. How appropriate that the medic’s name was Larry.

  Mrs. Johnson was all smiles.

  Cassidy looked back at Larry. “Thank you. May I see him?”

  “Yes. He was asking for you earlier, but he’s sleeping pretty hard now.”

  “That doesn’t matter. I just want to see him.”

  The medic nodded and walked away.

  Mr. Bradley greeted her at the door. “Your father is a strong man, Miss Ivanoff. I’m sure he’ll have a full recovery.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Bradley. For everything.”

  “Not a problem, my dear. He’s the best man I’ve got. We’ll take good care of him. Barring any complications to his condition, he should be able to get up and around in about a week and then he’ll have to take it slow for a week or two after that.”

  She nodded and looked at her father. He’d always been so strong. The vision of health. Now he looked pale and tired.

  Leaning over his bed, she kissed his forehead. “I love you, Daddy. Now you just concentrate on getting better. I’ll be praying for you.”

  “It’s probably best you just let him sleep.” The manager patted her shoulder. “Looks like you could use some sleep as well. We’ll make sure someone comes to get you as soon as he’s awake again. Never fear, someone will be with him throughout the night.”

  “All right.” Cassidy headed for the door and saw Mrs. Johnson and Allan both waiting for her outside.

  Mrs. Johnson came forward and grabbed her hands. “Go get some sleep. I don’t even want to see you before noon.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t argue with me, Cassidy Faith. You sleep and get some time in with your father. There will be plenty of work to do later.”

  Cassidy couldn’t help but smile at the glint in the woman’s eye. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Johnson waved and walked away. “Not before noon!”

  Cassidy looked at Allan for a moment. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but there were no words. Without even thinking about it, she went straight into his arms. She hugged him for all she was worth. “Thank you.”

  It only took a moment before his strong arms wrapped around her. She’d never been held by a man other than her father, and she didn’t know if it was the emotion and relief of the moment, or simply that it was Allan who held her. But she never wanted to leave.

  15

  Six o’clock in the morning came all too soon after such a long night. Allan hadn’t gotten much sleep between his thoughts of Cassidy and John. With his boss laid up, the full schedule of excursions would fall on his shoulders. But mainly his thoughts were of Cassidy.

  As he went over the schedule for the next few days, his thoughts wouldn’t stay on task. It was hard to imagine he’d only known the Ivanoffs a month. And even though he hadn’t treated them very well, they’d shown him nothing but kindness. It didn’t make sense.

  His walk with Cassidy last night had opened up his heart, but he never could have prepared himself for what his heart would do when she hugged him. He wanted to treasure her and protect her, but he didn’t have that right. At least not before he made things right—truly right—with her father.

  Allan felt so convicted for the thoughts he’d held toward John. Now that he knew the man, and had seen his true character over and over again, he couldn’t imagine how he ever believed the man had been responsible for his father’s death. But how could he have known? And why did Frank hate John so much? Because he needed someone to blame for the loss of his friend? Or was there something else to it?

  He didn’t want to go there—but there had been things over the years that made Allan doubt Frank’s loyalty to the Brennan family.

  Dad, what do I do?

  He stared at the ceiling. No answer came. But oh, how he wished one would. Since he’d lost his father, he didn’t have anyone to talk to about the tough decisions. Allan had relied on his father for guidance and wisdom in every aspect of his life. Henry Brennan often scolded him for it. Told him that he should be relying on God. Not man. But Allan idolized his father.

  As for God . . . he shook his head. For the longest time he’d worked to convince himself that he didn’t need God anymore.

  During the war, after learning of his father’s death, he’d often considered his father’s faith. He knew his dad would have been disappointed—crushed more like it—that his death would drive his son away from God. Of course, Allan didn’t allow himself those thoughts. Not in the trenches. His commanding officer was fond of quoting the old French poet Jean de La Fontaine, who said, “Death never takes the wise man by surprise, he is always ready to go.”

  His commander had been a Christian, and would usually add that a man could only be truly ready when his spirit was at peace with God.

  At the time, Allan forced himself to be logical about it. His father was dead and eventually he would die as well. Whether here or in his bed as an old man. Death was death.

  But even now his father’s words whispered in his ear.

  “For to me to live is Christ, to die is gain.”

  His father didn’t fear death, nor did he dread life. He’d been completely at peace with both, and Allan wanted the same.

  Shaking off the regret and the endless void that dogged him, Allan headed out to the equipment shed. In time he would speak to John and tell him the truth—that he did forgive him. For now, however, he needed to focus on the job at hand. That’s all. John was injured—lucky to be alive, but that meant Allan would need to put all his energy into performing his duties, as well as John’s.

  The morning passed in a wild-flower hike with city ladies who found the beauty inspirational and the dangers thrilling. They walked in their dainty fashion with their very pretty dresses and thin-soled shoes and marveled that anything so rustic still existed in the modern world. At noon he delivered them back to the hotel safe and sound, with each of the ladies speaking in animated excitement about how they’d faced the dangers of the wild frontier and survived.

  What would they have thought if they’d truly had to face all that Alaska had to offer? Allan’s growling stomach reminded him that he’d forgotten b
reakfast. Not a smart thing to do. Especially when he had to spend the afternoon taking a group out fishing. He pulled out his pocket watch—just enough time to check on John and get his advice if he was awake, and to eat a quick lunch.

  As he headed to John’s room, one of the kitchen boys caught him by the sleeve.

  “Mr. Brennan, here’s a telegram for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  The boy dashed off.

  Opening the envelope, Allan stayed in the hall. He hoped it wasn’t anything too urgent—especially not another group requesting anything, but John received most of those requests.

  4 August 1923Concerned about Brennan/Irving (stop)Not all appears as it should (stop)Anna believes Frank involved in shady dealings (stop)Please advise (stop)Louis

  Allan leaned against the wall and reread it. His sister Anna was the quietest out of all of them, but also the most observant. Whenever she brought something to their attention, she was correct.

  For Louis to send the telegram also gave a strong hint. Louis was capable and independent. He never communicated unless it was necessary. Things must be very bad indeed.

  But how could Allan deal with the matter from here?

  Shoving the paper back in the envelope, he strode the rest of the way to John’s room. He knocked softly.

  “Come in.” Cassidy’s sweet voice called out.

  When he opened the door, he was overjoyed to see John sitting up and with color in his face. “You look a hundred times better than you did last night.”

  John reached out a hand.

  Allan took it in a firm grip and shook it.

  “Thank you for finding me.”

  “You would’ve done the same for me.” Allan sat in a chair on the other side of John’s bed. Not only could he see his boss, but he had a good view of Cassidy as well. However, with her there, Allan didn’t feel he could speak to John about forgiveness. That was still too personal.