In the Shadow of Denali

by Tracie Peterson

  Once she had her grandmother safely delivered to her room, Cassidy walked outside. The summer days of long light were gone and now the skies were dark. At least here she had the glow of electric lights to mark her way, but on the mountain they had nothing more than their lanterns.

  She looked in the direction of Denali and wondered where they were. Were they safe? Wrapping her arms around her body, Cassidy couldn’t help the thought that came to mind.

  Why didn’t she tell Allan that she loved him?

  The wind was stronger than any he’d ever felt. Allan bundled up inside the tent he and John shared and drank the tea before it lost all its heat. He also wrestled with his conscience and God. For so long now he had blamed God for his father’s death, but now that he was here . . . near to where his father had died, Allan felt he had to make his peace.

  I don’t really know where to start. He tried to imagine God sitting on His throne in His full majesty. I’ve been so wrong—so angry. I knew it wasn’t right to blame You or John for Dad’s death, but I had to blame someone . . . and . . . well, I couldn’t blame Dad. Even though he was the one who made the decision to come. He knew all the risks, but came anyway.

  I think for a long time I’ve been mad at him more than anyone else, but I couldn’t admit it. Not to myself or anyone else, and certainly not to You. Allan had been considering this for most of the climb that day and now that he’d allowed himself to realize the truth, it was like a dam had burst. His emotions and memories flooded down over the years.

  “I need Your forgiveness.” The words were barely whispered but seemed to echo in Allan’s head. “Please, God—Father—forgive me.” For a moment the wind ceased and there was absolute silence. With it came peace to Allan’s weary heart.

  Then just as quickly the wind started up again and the tent shook harder than before.

  John entered as he tried to shake off all the snow. “It’s not good.”

  Allan nodded. “I guess that storm you prayed for is upon us.” He didn’t speak very loud, but he knew John heard him.

  “Yes. I knew God answered prayers, but I guess I didn’t realize what I was asking for.” John sat down by the camp stove and extended his hands. “I tried to convince Frank to join us here, but he refused. ”

  It had been three days since they’d left the native men, sleds, and dogs at a camp on the glacier. Each day, they’d made a little progress, but John and Allan purposefully slowed their pace. Frank had been edgy and irritable, but the weather had been nice, so they’d pushed on. Today, they made it over a towering wall and could no longer see the camp below them. Which meant the men from the camp couldn’t see them either. And that made Allan’s hackles rise. Up until this point, they’d had other people around them. But now, they were truly alone with Frank. And they didn’t know what he had planned.

  A strong sense of foreboding filled him.

  John sat cross-legged on the floor and then pulled out his notes and a map. “We’re in dangerous territory. Not good in the middle of a storm.”

  “Do you think Frank will suspect if we suggest we turn around?” Allan handed him a tin cup with hot tea. John took it and sipped it before answering. He set the cup aside and returned his attention to his book of notes.

  “Probably. At least if we don’t wait a few days to let the storm pass. We have enough provisions.” John closed his book. “And Frank will remember from the last time that we had to hunker down and wait more than once. There’s also the possibility that this storm will last for a week or more. Up here on the mountain it’s not at all unusual. Maybe if it continues we can convince him that it’s impossible to go on—that we simply waited too late in the season.”

  Allan nodded. “I think we have grounds to declare that now. It’s obvious the snows are going to be heavy. We can remind him how difficult it is to break a path through new snow. I’m sure he must remember that.”

  John grimaced. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s miserable up here. He doesn’t want to be here.”

  “Sure, I’ve noticed.”

  “Well, that means he came here for an entirely different reason than just to climb. A reason that made him willing to risk his own comfort—possibly his own life. What isn’t clear is what he has planned. I think you and I should sleep in shifts so that one of us is always awake. I just don’t trust him.”

  The gravity of the situation before them scared Allan.

  “I suggest we pray. It’s the only surety we have.”

  John smiled, seeming to sense the change that had taken place in Allan’s heart. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

  Another day, another train. Cassidy watched the southbound train pull in. No doubt filled with hungry men from the railroad. The workers had been flooding in and heading south the past couple days now that their work was complete up north. A lot of them wanted to get home before the snow started to fall. And she couldn’t blame them.

  She went back into the kitchen to see what needed to be finished up for dinner. Time with her grandparents had been wonderful, but she still couldn’t wait for the return of Dad. The time with her grandparents had also taught her that time was short—if Allan Brennan came back and told her he cared for her, then she would sit him down and tell him that he needed to let go of his anger toward God before she could give him her heart. No more mincing of words. No more waiting for him to see the light. She cared about him. A lot. Enough to tell him the truth.

  The railroad agent, Mr. Fitzgerald, entered the kitchen and called out, “Miss Ivanoff!”

  She wiped her hands and went over to him. “Yes, sir.”

  “We’ve just gotten terrible news that there’s a massive storm sitting over the mountains. Some of the men say the natives told them it was worse than anything else they’ve seen.” He looked down at the floor. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I wanted to tell you personally.”

  A hand flew to her mouth. Her worst fears had just come true. She’d been so consumed with her grandparents and her own thoughts that she’d hardly given the weather any thought.

  After dinner, Cassidy received permission from Mrs. Johnson to take the rest of the evening off.

  Racing up Deadhorse Hill in her apron and dress, she didn’t care a lick about her attire or any danger that might befall her. She just had to see for herself. Had to get a glimpse of what the men were all talking about around the tables. The light was fading fast, which only made the urgency greater. She stumbled on something and barely righted herself before hugging the ground. Another time, the thought might have amused her.

  When she finally reached the top, an icy wind cut across her. The temperature had dropped considerably since earlier in the day. Cassidy drew in her breath and held it before turning to face the view. Thick, black, swirling clouds to the west told her the story she didn’t want to hear. The Great One was completely engulfed, and the storm was moving toward the hotel at a rapid pace. For a moment she was mesmerized and then a blast of cold wind hit her face. She let out the breath she’d been holding and fell to her knees. “Oh, God, please don’t take them from me! Please!”

  Her mind raced to remember their plan. If they’d followed the itinerary, Dad and Allan . . . and Frank would be close to ten thousand feet up the mountain. This storm could cover them in hours, and they might be buried alive. They might already be! The temperatures would be subzero and there would be no place to take refuge except the tents they’d carried with them. And depending on how quickly the storm came up, they might not even have had time to erect the tents.

  “No, Dad would have been more aware of the weather than that,” she told herself aloud. It did little to comfort her.

  “Miss Cassidy, Miss Cassidy!” Thomas’s voice drifted up to her. “Miss Cassidy!”

  She tried to collect herself and stood. “I’m here, Thomas.”

  “Miss Cassidy, we need to get down from here right now. The storm is coming this way. Mrs. Johnson told Mr. Bradley where you went an
d they sent me to fetch you. They’re preparing for a doozy down at the hotel.”

  She nodded. “I just had to see for myself.” She pointed toward the mountains.

  When Thomas’s gaze followed her finger, he gasped. “Oh no! But I’m sure Mr. Ivanoff and Mr. Brennan are hunkered down and waiting it out. Nobody is as smart as your dad when it comes to that mountain.” He grabbed her hand. “But we’ve got our own problems. We’ve got to get down.”

  Sheets of rain began to pelt them with no mercy, and Cassidy half ran, half slid her way down the top part of the hill. The wind was a constant opponent, leaving her exhausted, just fighting to stay upright. Finally, Cassidy gave up and plopped down. She began to work her way down, letting her backside anchor her to the ground. It kept her center of gravity lower, and her feet could at least guide her over rocks. Thomas looked at her like she was crazy, but he soon joined her, offering whatever help he could. He stayed beside her the whole time, making sure she didn’t get to going too fast.

  By the time they reached the bottom of the hill, the rain had turned to snow. And by the time they made it to the hotel doors, it looked like a full-on blizzard.

  If it was this bad down here, how bad was it up on Denali?

  Oh, Lord God. Please help them!

  26

  Morning came without a break in the storm. The howling of the wind did little to offer any hope of an end to the blizzard. Allan nudged John. “Are you awake?”

  “I am. I’m just trying to stay warm.”

  “Should one of us go check on Frank?”

  “I was just thinking that, but didn’t want to leave my warm blankets.” John pushed the warm bedding aside. “Fool of a man. He did this last time we climbed—refused to share a tent with anyone else.”

  Allan nodded. Frank had always been a bit of a recluse—even a snob. “I don’t trust him, but I also don’t want to see him die, so maybe we should invite him over here.”

  John donned his outer gear. “I’ll do that. You stay here and heat us up something to drink.”

  “I can do that.”

  The wind roared around them and when John opened the flap of the tent, a blast of air took Allan’s breath away. “Hold on to the rope!” he yelled, but doubted John could hear him over the noise of the storm.

  Several minutes passed and Allan pulled on his coat to go check on the men. But just then John entered the tent with his hands over his head, Frank right behind him.

  Frank shoved John to the ground, revealing a gun in his right hand. “I’ve had about all of this I can take,” he shouted. He motioned to Allan. “Do up the flap.”

  “What are you doing?” Allan shook his head. “Frank, you’ve lost your mind. Put the gun down.” He edged slowly to the opening and grabbed the flap as it beat mercilessly against the tent. With one eye on Frank and the other on what he was doing, Allan managed to reclose the opening.

  “You two think I haven’t known what you’ve been up to, but I have. You’ve been plotting a way to get rid of me, but little did you know I was doing the same.”

  “We’ve been doing no such thing, Frank.” Allan looked at John. There was a nasty gash on his head. Frank must’ve hit him with the gun before they came to the tent. “What have you done?”

  “What have I done? What have I done?” A hideous laugh spewed out of the man’s lips. It was clear he’d gone mad. “I’ll tell you what I’ve done. One—I’ve waited for years to have sole ownership of my company. Your father was supposed to die and I was supposed to get it all. But no . . . he had to leave half of his share to his sniveling brat of a son who wanted nothing to do with it. So I killed him for nothing.”

  “You killed my father?” Allan lunged.

  Frank stuck the gun in his face. “I’m not finished.” He hissed. “Yes, I killed your father. When this fool stopped to find our trail marker, it gave me just enough time. I positioned myself in the perfect place, and when your father joined me I held his attention by asking him to help me clear my goggles. While he did that, I untied the rope from around his waist. It almost cost me my fingers because I had to take off the thick mittens in order to work the knot.” He laughed in a maniacal manner and waved the gun.

  Allan noted that he wore only a thin pair of the woolen gloves they’d brought. With his hand wrapped around the cold metal of the gun, his fingers would have to be extremely stiff.

  “Then I shoved him over a cliff. How’s that for lifelong friends?” The man’s eyes were crazy. “Let’s see, where did I leave off? Oh yes . . . Two—I’ve had to deal with your pious family sticking their nose into everything they shouldn’t. Three—I’ve lost a fortune because I’ve been waiting for the rest of my money to invest in my other ventures. And four—I had to resort to stealing money from the company to make it all work. Then, of course, your brother-in-law had to get in the middle of all that, and then there was that stupid auditor—”

  “How many have you killed, Frank?” Allan couldn’t take any more. He pushed forward, but Frank stuck the barrel of the gun on his forehead.

  “I don’t think you want to press me.”

  Allan pulled back an inch. Frank had gone over the edge. He was insane. It wouldn’t do his family any good for him to allow the man who’d taken his father away to take his life as well. But one question haunted him. “You did it all for money?”

  “Of course.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Why? My father would have given you all the money you wanted.”

  “I don’t care. He didn’t deserve it. And he didn’t deserve his family and all the respect of the community. He didn’t deserve any of it. He made plans and they turned golden. I made plans and they turned to ash. It wasn’t fair.” His voice took on a shrill, almost screeching tone. “I had plans that were good. I had ideas and dreams.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Allan saw John slowly reach for his ice axe. He needed to stall. “Frank. Please. Why don’t you let John go and I’ll sign over the whole company to you now. It’ll be yours. All yours.” He held up his hands. “Nobody else needs to get hurt.”

  He lowered the gun almost as if he’d forgotten all about it. “Do you think I’m stupid? John could just go tell the authorities everything.”

  “No. He wouldn’t. Not if I asked him to promise. We could help each other down the mountain and you’d own the company.”

  “You’re dumber than your father, Brennan—”

  John rose up with the axe and took Frank by surprise. The gun fired.

  John fell to the ground, a circle of red growing above his knee.

  Allan took that moment to lunge at Frank and tackled him to the ground. Wrestling with him, Allan knew that this could be the end. But he had to save John.

  For Cassidy.

  Another shot fired from the gun.

  Three weeks had passed since the expedition team left the Curry Hotel. Cassidy was a bit beside herself. The storm had cleared but had left two feet of snow in its wake.

  Now the sun was shining once again and the snow began to melt. Unfortunately her fears would not.

  Every day she looked toward the west. Did they survive the storm? Would she ever see her father again? And Allan?

  She regretted not sharing her heart with him earlier. Now it might be too late. The thoughts threatened to overwhelm her, but she held on to hope.

  Through it all, her grandparents and Mrs. Johnson had been a rock beside her. In fact, Mrs. Johnson seemed to be slowly coming around. Each morning she asked Cassidy to share a Scripture with her and then asked what it meant. She might have only been doing it to force Cassidy to think on something other than the missing men, but Cassidy knew God’s Word would never return void.

  Maybe there was hope to break down those seemingly impenetrable walls as well.

  Nothing was impossible with God.

  Not even sparing her father and the man she loved from a killer storm.

  Allan awoke to a dog licking his face. Where was he?

  Every mu
scle in his body ached as he tried to sit up.

  But then spots danced before his eyes. Thoughts of Cassidy surged through his mind. Would he see her again? He never got to tell her that he loved her. Or that he’d gotten himself straight with God. He wanted to see her face when he told her.

  But maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

  The rushing of his own heartbeat filled his ears.

  Everything went black.

  27

  Mrs. Johnson and Cassidy spent the morning cleaning sweet Alaskan blueberries and preparing them for jelly. While she appreciated Mrs. Johnson’s efforts, she hadn’t realized the woman could come up with just about anything to keep them busy—including traversing hills and gullies to pick berries.

  But it had kept her mind off the fact that her father and Allan hadn’t returned yet.

  “Now, you finish with those and then work on this bucket,” Mrs. Johnson instructed, hoisting the bucket alongside the first. “I’m going to check on those silly girls and make sure they’ve properly cleaned the pots and pans.” She hurried away before Cassidy could reply.

  Once her work was finished, Cassidy planned to talk to Mr. Bradley about letting her ride out with Thomas and maybe a couple of other men to look for her father. She was certain the storm would have ended their ascent and they surely were making their way back. They had to be. They couldn’t be dead.

  She’d know if they were. Wouldn’t she? Tears threatened.

  Cassidy straightened for a moment and closed her eyes. Drawing a deep breath, she calmed herself and sighed. God was in control. Not Cassidy Ivanoff.

  As she reached for another bucket of berries, hands came over her eyes and she gave a squeal of fright. She immediately recognized the warm chuckle of the man she’d fallen in love with. She turned and found herself in Allan’s strong arms.

  “What . . . ? How . . . ?” She hugged him tight around the neck and spotted her father behind him.

  His leg and head were bandaged, and he leaned on a cane, but he was there. In front of her. “Dad!” She ran to him and hugged him too.