by DiAnn Mills
One night, Shana again climbed to her observation point. Helplessness swept over the girl, alone on a snowy hillside except for her faithful dog. Everything she held dear lay below her. She could not leave it. Yet how could she refuse, should going be God’s will? A torrent of tears rushed to her eyes. Her cry echoed in the encroaching night, the cry of every follower who stands at life’s crossroads, longing for guidance. “How can I know if it’s really what You want?”
Kobuk laid one paw on Shana’s sturdy boot. She dropped to the ground and hugged him fiercely. If she were called, he, too, would be left behind. Face buried in the dog’s fur, she whispered her prayer of submission. “God, if it’s truly Your will, I’ll go. I know we’re not supposed to ask for signs, but I feel so torn. Like a wishbone pulled two ways until it breaks, leaving jagged edges.” Her voice trailed off. After a long time Shana slowly stood and started down the slope toward Nika Illahee, one hand resting on Kobuk’s proudly lifted head. No running this time. No Wyatt, scolding and exasperating. Just the drained feeling she had done what she must. The outcome was hid in the mighty hand of God.
An uneasy, waiting week passed. Two. Shana regained some of her peace. Perhaps God didn’t require such a sacrifice. Perhaps He was merely testing her to see if she were willing. Then, just a few days before Christmas, a letter arrived. It shattered Shana’s new-found tranquillity like a thunderbolt from the blue. Dr. Aldrich, the physician who had replaced Arthur at the Hollow wrote:
It breaks my heart to admit it, but soon I won’t be able to carry on. I’ve tried in vain to find someone willing to at least assist. I know from the stories you share in your letters there’s no chance you or your friend Dr. Clifton can come. Your people’s need is too great. Do you know of anyone with even rudimentary skills who might help me? I have grown to love these people, as you predicted I would. I’ll continue until I drop, but I shudder to think what will happen here when I do.
Arthur read the letter to the Cliftons. His handsome face, so like his son’s, looked troubled. Regret darkened his blue eyes. “He’s right. Neither of us can be spared. We’re the only doctors for hundreds of miles. When one of us is away on call, the other is needed here.” He spread wide his sensitive surgeon’s hands in a gesture of hopelessness. “There’s nothing we can do.”
Bern sighed. “If we only knew someone, anyone, who would leave all and go serve.” His massive shoulders sagged. “Arthur, I am so sorry.”
Shana felt her heart skip a beat. Then it began to pound the way it did when she ran long distances. Her mouth dried. Three times she started to speak. Three times words failed her. On the fourth try, her clear, steady voice rose above the hard beating of her wishbone heart. “Father, there is someone. I will go.”
Chapter 2
If Shana lived to be older than the Endicott Range, she would never forget the pool of silence that descended following her announcement. She averted her gaze from the battalion of eyes staring at her and focused on the room she loved. Colored by the impending departure, the handcrafted furniture covered with buckskin, the wolfskin rug, even the oversize fireplace with its six-foot lengths of logs that warded off Tarnigan’s far-below-freezing winter nights, all looked unfamiliar.
Would she ever see them again? Shana swallowed the obstruction that leaped to her throat at the thought. A minute or an eternity passed. She looked at Bern, jaw ajar in amazement. She had involuntarily called him Father instead of Dad. Had it sprung from the knowledge she must be considered an adult? Otherwise, his beloved daughter could never convince him she must carry out what she now knew beyond the shadow of a doubt was her calling.
Bern shook his head, as if disbelieving what he’d heart. “You?” His voice sounded hoarse, strained. “You want to go to North Carolina?”
“No, but I must!” Shana burst into passionate speech. “It’s tearing me apart. I don’t know how I can ever leave you and Kobuk and Tarnigan.” She looked at her mother appealingly. “I’ve fought and fought. For a long time, I tried to convince myself it was just hearing Uncle Arthur’s stories.” Her lips quivered and she clenched her hands into fists. “Deep down, I knew better. Every time I thought of the Hollow, something deep inside me stirred.” She paused and licked dry lips. “I can’t fight any more. Wyatt and I told God years ago we’d go anywhere He sent us. I just didn’t dream it would be so hard.”
The dam behind Shana’s eyes broke. She ran to her white-faced mother and buried her face in Sasha’s lap. Drenching tears poured. The silence continued. At last Shana raised her head and looked around the circle of concerned faces. “I finally told God it—it was all right with me. I had to be sure, so I asked Him to send a sign.”
Like puppets released from a spell, the others came to life. Sasha’s lovely face twisted with pain. She stroked her daughter’s tangled dark hair with the slim and shapely hand that had helped save more than one life. “Dr. Aldrich’s letter.”
“Yes.” Shana glanced around the circle of friends.
A spark flamed in Arthur’s eyes. Was he thinking of his own days in the Hollow, of the terrible need, of how he himself had worked with Bern to make Shana an accomplished nurse and helper?
Inga only smiled, but the look in her clear, fjord-blue eyes warmed Shana through and through. Inga understood. Had she not given up life aboard the Flower of Alaska with her ship-captain father to marry Arthur and live in Tarnigan, far inland from the ocean depths she loved?
Shana turned back to her father. Bern Clifton looked ten years older than he had short moments earlier. Yet even as she watched, he raised his head and squared his shoulders. Shana felt a rush of love. No wonder the Indians of Tarnigan called him Hoots-Noo, “heart of a grizzly.”
“You are sure.” Not a question, but a statement of confirmation.
“I am sure.” The words fell from Shana’s lips like a sacred vow.
Wyatt said nothing. He stood in a crouch, like a mountain lion waiting to spring. His eyes slitted until only a blue gleam showed between curly golden lashes. Only the whiteness of knuckles strained to the utmost hinted at his agitation. A wellspring of protest raged within, but he dared not utter it in the face of such perfect faith. He felt caught in a whirlpool, tossed to and fro. To deny the white flame of Shana’s belief in her call would be an insult. To remain silent was to lose her. God, how can You allow it? he silently prayed. Must I give her up, just when her eyes betray the dawning of a new kind of love?
Never! He had loved Shoshana Noelle Clifton from the time her mother gently placed the little girl’s hand in his and said, “Wyatt, even though you are a few weeks younger, you are larger, stronger. I cannot always be with Shana. When I am not, you must always care for her and keep her from harm.”
Clear-eyed, knowing even at that young age his pledge must not be given lightly, the boy’s clear blue eyes manfully gazed into Sasha’s dark ones. He squeezed Shana’s small fingers with his own slightly grubby ones and said, “I promise. For always.”
“Thank you.” Sasha’s hand rested on the curly blond head like a benediction. It set responsibility burning in the boyish heart. Much later, Wyatt realized the poignant moment also marked the beginning of his journey toward manhood—and the day he would ask Shana to be his wife. No dark-eyed village maiden ever tempted. No laughing trapper’s daughter or visiting cousin received more than a polite bow or smile.
With every year, Wyatt’s love for Shana grew stronger. He scolded, teased, coerced, and praised. They took turns leading and following. The desire to outstrip Wyatt in canoeing and hiking and running made Shana fiercely competitive. His sunny smile and obvious pride in her accomplishments spurred her on to greater heights. He fought for her when necessary. A certain whey-faced shopkeeper who dared grab Shana with drunken hands when she was sixteen fell victim to Wyatt’s clean-limbed rage and magnificent strength. Only the commandment “Thou shalt not kill” saved the man from death. Long before Bern Clifton learned of the insult to his daughter, the man fled in the dark of night ag
ain. The wounds inflicted on him by Wyatt’s righteous indignation marked the transgressor for the coward and bully he was. He carried scars for months.
Never again did a man or boy lay hands on Shana. At the first sign of any unwelcome attentions by newcomers, someone in Tarnigan quietly took the strangers aside and related the shopkeeper’s story. The usual response was a disbelieving, “That good-natured boy? Impossible.” To which those who knew reminded through set lips, “Yeah. Cougars look like big pussycats, too, but they ain’t!”
Cougars. Bears. Wolverines. Wicked men. Blizzards. Wind and rain and hail. Wyatt felt he could conquer them all. Now, faced with the greatest threat to happiness he had ever known, must he go down in ignominious defeat?
He straightened, a six-foot stripling whose slender build and buckskin suit covered solid muscle. He quickly marshaled the facts. One: He was Wyatt, a warrior. Two: He had promised to take care of Shana. He could not keep his pledge if thousands of weary miles stretched between them. Three: He had also promised to go where sent. He could still feel the solemnity of the moment when he and Shana knelt and dedicated themselves to following Christ wherever their heavenly Father might lead them.
A thrill shot through him. Like a heavy door thrown wide to welcome sunshine, a daring idea poured into him. Never one to waste time on regret, or to turn back once he had set his face forward, Wyatt took a single step toward Shana. Had a second or an hour passed since she had vowed in her solemn voice, “I am sure”? He neither knew nor cared.
Wyatt rose to his toes, then allowed his heels to hit the floor with a little bang of finality. Burning blue gaze fixed on Shana’s tear-streaked face, he answered her vow with his own, in a voice that rang in the quiet room. “Mother. Dad. I am going with her.”
This second bombshell brought a wave of protest. Wyatt ignored it, intent on watching Shana. Emotions chased over her expressive face like rainbows on a glacier, mingling, everchanging. Doubt. Delight. Disbelief. They warred for mastery even as she fell back a step and held out one hand, as if to keep Wyatt away. “You?” she said in a strangled voice. “You?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going because you also feel a call or because of Shana?” Bern rasped. His eyes glowed like twin coals.
Wyatt met his gaze squarely. His muscles tensed but he didn’t flinch. Too proud to deny, too honest to claim divine leading when he wasn’t sure about it, he quietly replied, “I don’t know. Maybe some of both.” He drew in a ragged breath and expelled it. “Sir, it’s only a few weeks until Shana and I are twenty-one. I am asking you to release me from my promise.”
A curious smile tilted Bern’s mouth. “I’m amazed you have kept it this long.” Was it a hint of relief that brightened the dark eyes?
Wyatt felt bright flags of color wave in his face. “Have you ever known me to break a promise?”
“No.” Mischief replaced Bern’s grave expression. “Would you like to take Shana into the kitchen and speak to her there?”
Wyatt flung back his corn-colored hair. “No sir. Everyone here has the right to know. Do you want to tell them, or shall I?” He looked from puzzled face to puzzled face. A slight frown creased his mother’s forehead. His father’s eyes twinkled. Had Bern Clifton been unable to stay silent? No, for Sasha and Shana chorused, “What promise?”
At a nod from Wyatt, Dr. Clifton quietly said, “This young man came to me a good five years ago. He declared his love for Shana and asked permission to marry her when they were both old enough.”
Wyatt’s ears burned at the words and Shana’s gasp, but he manfully took his medicine, never letting his gaze move from the girl’s shocked face.
“Wasn’t I to have anything to say in the matter?” Icicles tinkled in Shana’s voice and a tidal wave of red swept into her tanned skin.
“Of course.” Bern blandly went on, although his sparkling eyes showed how much he was enjoying himself. “Wyatt simply felt the right thing to do was to come to me, my dear. He gave his word he would not express his feelings until you were both twenty-one, unless you showed marked interest in another man. From the look on your face, I believe Wyatt has kept his promise. His honor is above reproach.” Bern exchanged a meaningful glance with Sasha, who smiled tremulously in return. “Son.” He extended a powerful hand. “If you can win my daughter, you have my blessing.”
Wyatt tore his gaze free from Shana and knelt by her mother’s chair. “Once you placed her in my care,” he said huskily. “Should God grant me the gift of Shana’s love, do I still have your blessing?”
Sasha looked deep into his eyes. Wyatt had the feeling she saw his very soul. Her lips curved upward. “With all my heart,” she told him.
The revelation of Wyatt’s love—or his audacity—proved too much for Shana. Hands over her scarlet face, she fled from his triumphant whoop to the safety of her room. She slammed the door, barely missing Kobuk’s plumy tail, and threw herself on her bed. The malamute took his usual place on the bearskin rug next to it. “Go away,” she ordered when Wyatt knocked.
“You have to come out sometime,” he called. An exultant laugh followed. “When you do, I’ll be here. I told you not to bet I couldn’t catch you!” The sound of racing steps told Shana her scheming suitor had gone back to the main room. Was he even now gloating over the shock of his surprise?
The thought brought anger. How could he? How dared he complicate her life even more, when she already had more than she could handle?
Be fair, a little voice reminded. He couldn’t know you would be called to North Carolina. He did the honorable thing. Once he knew his boy’s love for you had become a man’s, he went to your father. He abided by your father’s edict not to speak unless he saw you were beginning to care for someone else.
Someone else? Preposterous! Shana’s eyes widened. She pressed both hands to her chest, where her traitorous heart beat wildly. “God, am I in love with Wyatt?” she demanded in a whisper. Little things came back to her. His care through the years. His constant presence when she needed him. His comfort when her pet fawn died. His defense against the greedy, clutching hands of the drunken storekeeper. She shivered in revulsion at the memory.
Wait! Had that incident five years ago roused Wyatt to awareness of her as a woman? “God, I don’t care for Him that way,” she confessed. “At least not yet.” A deep blush dyed her oval face. She stirred uneasily and allowed her hand to fall to Kobuk’s ruff. She felt the dog’s rough pink tongue against her skin. Loneliness filled her.
“Lord, if Wyatt goes, I could take at least that much of Tarnigan with me. Is it fair to him, when I’m not sure how I feel? Oh dear, just when I think I’ve made it over one obstacle, here’s a new one, although Wyatt wouldn’t appreciate being called an obstacle.” Diamond drops sparkled in her long, dark lashes. Like the mountain ranges of Alaska, her life had become one peak after another, each higher and harder to climb than the one before!
Chapter 3
The next day brought a northern storm that rattled even closely shuttered windows. Winds straight from the peaks took the girl’s breath when she stepped to the porch of Nika Illahee, and drove her back inside. Only fools or cheechakos, what white men would could tenderfeet or newcomers, exposed themselves to such fury unless they were far from home when the devil winds caught them by surprise.
Shana shivered. The previous winter she and Wyatt had been caught by the wind a few miles from Tarnigan. They had taken stock of the situation and decided their best refuge was to hastily construct a snow house. Kobuk snuggled down between them, adding his warmth to their shelter. When gray daylight came late the next morning, the three companions headed home. It took all their strength to reach the outskirts of the village before another arctic blast attacked.
Now Kobuk barked defiantly into the face of the storm and followed Shana inside. The Indians of Tarnigan had felt “the daughter of Clifton” would surely ruin the furry malamute by allowing him the run of her home. She had laughed, then proved how mistaken they w
ere when twice Kobuk and his mistress bested the finest dog teams for miles around. Suspicion of the powerful dog’s worth quickly died. Vindicated, Shana had the satisfaction of knowing all Tarnigan recognized Kobuk more than lived up to his ancestors’ reputation.
In the living room, Shana slipped from her parka, knelt on the wolfskin rug in front of the blazing fireplace, and hugged Kobuk. “I’m going to miss you so much.” She sighed. “I can’t take you with me. You’d never be happy.” A shadow crept into her heart. “I wonder if I will be. I know I must go, Lord, but why am I not happier about it? Shouldn’t I be glad to serve You, no matter where?” She thought of missionary stories she had read. Of the hardships and struggle, the eventual realization it was all worthwhile. “Be patient with me, please, Lord,” she prayed. “Surely once I get there…” Her voice trailed off. Long, snowy months stretched between December and a time safe to travel.
“Enough brooding,” Shana scolded herself. She jumped up. “Remember, Shoshana Noelle Clifton, the Lord loves a cheerful giver. A cheerful goer, too, I’ll bet!” She giggled and felt better.
Heavy thumps sounded at the heavy front door. It burst open, and a snowy figure flung himself inside, accompanied by a gust of frigid air. Wyatt Baldwin’s strong shoulder pushed the door shut against the shrieking storm.
“Good grief, what are you doing out on a day like this?” the girl demanded.
“Just because it’s stormy, does it mean a man can’t call on his ladylove?” Mischief twinkled in Wyatt’s blue eyes.
Shana’s heart lurched, but she refused to dignify his jest with an answer. “Get yourself out of those wet boots and parka and to the fire before you catch pneumonia,” she ordered. “Here. I’ll put them to drip in the bathtub.”
