Where Heaven Begins

by Rosanne Bittner

  The security of his arm around her was unlike anything she’d felt before. It wasn’t like a hug from her mother or father, or her brother. It was much more…dangerously more…dangerous because of the things that were happening to her heart, things that absolutely should not be happening, let alone so soon into their friendship, if it could even be called that.

  They reached the other side safely, to Elizabeth’s great relief. It also struck her that she’d been so lost in thought that she hardly remembered most of the frightening short jaunt over the bridge.

  “On to the next bridge,” he told her, letting go of her. He walked up and untied the horses, bringing them to the edge of the tumbling waters so they could take a drink. As he waited, he looked her over, smiling. “Have I ever told you how utterly ridiculous you look in those clothes?”

  She looked down at herself and laughed. “I’m sure I do.”

  “And now do you understand why I said you had to wear pants and boots? Can you imagine trying to get across that bridge wearing a bunch of slips and petticoats, let alone making your way over this rocky trail?”

  “Oh, I do understand,” she answered, taking Queen’s reins. Clint tied Red Lady to Devil’s tail, then grasped Devil’s reins and started off again. Elizabeth followed him along a trail that meandered along the opposite side of the river. She always felt easier around Clint when he was in this kind of mood, and she felt better now about the log bridges. The next one would be easier, she knew, because Clint would never let her fall.

  For the rest of that third day the trail led them along endlessly steep gorges, again and again meeting the Skagway River, over more log bridges, the pathway widening, then narrowing again to widths that made Elizabeth’s chest tighten. It was difficult to believe they were hardly halfway to the height they must reach at White Pass. They still were not even above the tree line, and she tried not to think about what lay ahead in the awesome, dark granite, angular peaks. When she looked up at the vast bastions of the frigid interior of Alaska and Canada, starkly outlined against a deep-blue sky, she wondered that any man could surmount them, but thousands had, and so would she and Clint.

  They moved past rocks that literally seemed to leak trickles of water, as well as splendid waterfalls that roared in Elizabeth’s ears. They stopped only briefly at midday for something to eat, then headed into an area where the trail widened considerably, much to Elizabeth’s relief. Trees and underbrush gave way to a clearing, where they spotted several men with instruments set up on tripods.

  “Surveyors,” Clint shouted back to Elizabeth.

  They approached the men, one wearing spectacles, all well-dressed and equipped for camping in the area. They hailed Clint and Elizabeth with friendly gestures.

  “How has the trip been so far?” the man with glasses asked Clint.

  “As good as can be expected,” Clint answered. He reached back for Elizabeth. “My name is Clint Brady, and this is my wife, Elizabeth.”

  The man nodded to her and then turned his gaze to Clint again. “Robert Stokes. We’re with the Northern Pacific and are trying to build a railroad to the Yukon so you people don’t have to make this trip on foot and horseback.”

  “A railroad! Into country like this?” Elizabeth asked.

  Stokes laughed. “That’s what they said back in the sixties when men proposed a transcontinental railroad through the Rockies and the Sierras. But wherever men go, especially when it involves gold, the railroad will follow, ma’am, no matter the obstacles. Never underestimate us.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t think of it,” Elizabeth replied.

  “Have many others passed by you today?” Clint asked.

  “Two parties—both inexperienced men who have no business trying this trip, but you know gold and men. I suppose that’s your purpose also.”

  “Actually no,” Clint answered. “My wife is looking for her brother, who went to Dawson over a year ago to preach, believe it or not. Me, I’m…well, I agreed to take her, simple as that.”

  Stokes looked him over, studied the pack horses. “Well, you sure don’t look like a man inexperienced at this kind of trip.”

  “I did my share of living under the stars before I got married,” Clint answered, with no further explanation. “By the way, was one of the parties who passed by here led by a man named Ezra Faine?”

  Stokes nodded. “About four hours ahead of you. He tried to buy a couple of horses from us, but they belong to the railroad. I’ve got no right to sell them.”

  Clint nodded, then tipped his floppy-brimmed, leather hat to them. “Thanks. Good luck to you.”

  “Same to you. There’s an even better clearing about an hour ahead. You should be able to make it that far before full dark.”

  “Good to know.” Clint walked through the camp and continued.

  Elizabeth followed, calling out to him once they were several yards from the railroaders. “Are you still worried about Ezra Faine?” she asked. “We haven’t seen him and his men for days, and that man said they were a good half day ahead of us.”

  “Doesn’t hurt to check,” Clint answered.

  Elizabeth could hardly believe he needed to worry about them, but she decided Clint would just get in a sour mood if she pressed the subject. “Do you really think they will be able to build a railroad into these mountains?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.

  “Sure they will. Like the man said, where men go, so goes the railroad.”

  They walked nearly two more miles until they reached the clearing the railroad men told them about. It was indeed a good place to make camp, and burned-out camp fires, flattened grass and small trees chopped down told them that plenty of others had camped here. For now, they were the only ones.

  “Look there,” Clint told Elizabeth as they unpacked their gear.

  When she looked in the direction of his gaze, she spotted two moose. She drew in her breath. “What a grand animal! Look at those antlers!”

  “I’m thinking food,” Clint answered, slowly pulling his rifle from his gear.

  “Clint, they are so beautiful!”

  He leaned against his horse and looked down at her. “And there is a reason your God put them on this earth,” he answered. He leaned even closer to her. “To feed man.” He straightened. “And where we’re going, it will be easy to pack meat,” he continued, keeping his voice low. “We’ll have more trouble with thawing it out than worrying about it spoiling.” He retracted his Winchester and raised it, taking aim. “Hang on to the horses,” he told her.

  Elizabeth grasped the reins of all three animals, then squinted, waiting for the loud noise. Clint stood there sure and easy, and she couldn’t help wondering if he’d used that rifle on men. Maybe he only used his six-gun. Either way, it reminded her of what the man did for a living.

  He squeezed the trigger, and the horses twitched and whinnied, sidling sideways at the sudden crack of the rifle. One shot. A moose fell. The other one ran off.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor the arrow that flieth by day…for He will give His angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.

  —Psalms 91:5 & 11

  Clint spent most of the early evening gutting the moose he’d shot. He carved chunks of meat from the carcass while Elizabeth watched, sometimes crinkling her nose. The work was tough, but Clint worked diligently and adeptly, complaining that there was not time to truly preserve every part of the animal, including the hide.

  “Indians would cringe if they knew what we’re leaving behind,” he told her. “They make use of every part of an animal, even most of the innards.”

  Elizabeth could not imagine using any of the matter Clint threw on the ground.

  “We can only carry so much,” he continued. “What we do take could save our lives later, even if we have to eat it raw.”

  “Raw!”

  “You do what you have to do to stay alive sometimes, Liz. It’s just a shame to leave so
much of this poor animal to the wolves, which is why we came so far away from camp to clean it. If wolves decide to make a meal of this thing, I don’t want them close to our camp. Even this is a little too close. I’m worried about the horses. What we take we’ll have to hang high in a tree till morning. We just have to hope this carcass and innards keep them occupied tonight.”

  “We haven’t even encountered wolves yet. Why are you so sure we will tonight?”

  He threw another chunk of meat into a frozen puddle of water at his left side, where other pieces lay chilling. “Ten to one a wolf pack is already skirting around us. They can smell fresh blood for miles, and winter is coming on. They know darn well that it’s time to start burying meat for the lean times.”

  The thought of wolves skulking about, sight unseen, was disconcerting. “What can I do to help, Clint?”

  “Go back and build up the fire. I’ll skin off as much hide as I can and use it to carry back the raw meat. You can go ahead and heat up some coffee and a fry pan. I’ll cut off a few thin slices to cook tonight.” He stopped and turned to rinse his hands in one end of the frozen puddle. “Wait a minute,” he told her before she left. He shook off the water and wiped his hands on his denim pants, then took his six-gun from its holster, handing it to her butt first. “Take this with you.”

  She looked wide-eyed at the shooter. “What on earth for?”

  He sighed with obvious impatience. “What did I just tell you about wolves? With fresh blood all over the place, this isn’t a good time to be walking about alone without some kind of protection.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “I’ve never shot a gun in my life! I’ve never even held one!”

  “Will you just do as I ask? And be careful. It’s ready to fire. If something comes running at you, all you have to do is cock it and pull the trigger. If you don’t hit whatever it is, you’ll at least scare it away.”

  Elizabeth took the gun, holding it by only the handle so that it dangled from her hand.

  “For crying out loud, woman, it isn’t a snake that will bite you,” Clint grumped.

  Elizabeth carefully grasped the gun barrel, surprised at how heavy the gun was for its size. She took a better hold of the butt, keeping her finger away from the trigger. “I just…I cock it?”

  Clint rose, taking the shooter from her. “This is the hammer,” he said, pulling it back with his thumb. “Now it’s cocked. If you pull the trigger, and believe me, it doesn’t take much pressure, the gun will go off.” He grasped the hammer again and carefully let it back to its original position. “When it’s not cocked, pulling the trigger isn’t easy, so you’re pretty darn safe carrying it this way. Just remember that if you need it, you have to pull back that hammer. Okay?”

  She studied the gun as he handed it back. “Okay, I guess.” She clasped the gun carefully with both hands and carried it back to the campsite, thinking how it would be next to impossible to really shoot it if the need arose. And if it was so difficult to think about killing an animal, how on earth could someone kill a human being?

  She set the gun on the stump of a freshly cut tree and tended to the fire, building it up as Clint had instructed. She set the skillet on the coals to heat the pan, realizing only then that the sun had set and it was darker than she had realized. When the fire got bigger, it became difficult to see Clint in the distance.

  The horses whinnied then, shuffling around as though nervous about something. Should she yell out to Clint? She left the fire and picked up the six-gun, sitting down on the stump and listening. An odd, low growl came from behind her to the right, and her blood ran cold. Everything tingled from head to foot as fear engulfed her when the growl came again, a kind of low snort actually.

  The horses whinnied louder, and Elizabeth felt light-headed as it seemed as though all her blood was pouring into her feet and leaving the rest of her body. She sat frozen, not even able to scream to Clint. Perhaps a scream would make things worse. Maybe moving to turn with the gun would bring on an attack from whatever it was that lurked in the shadows.

  But the horses! Clint had made it clear over and over how necessary they were to their surviving this trip. And they were Clint’s horses. God knew she had an obligation to watch out for them.

  More growls. Now the horses were beginning to rear. They could break loose and run off! That would be a catastrophe! She said a quick prayer for courage, then rose and turned. Red eyes stared back at her, from a height of a good ten feet! What on earth! Coming from the darkness, whatever approached seemed like a giant, demonic beast!

  Instead of a scream, all she could muster was a whimper from somewhere deep inside as instinct made her nervously search for the hammer of the six-gun. It was harder to pull back than she’d thought it would be. It took both thumbs to do it. The beast came closer. She fired, but the six-gun was not powerful enough to stop it. She finally screamed Clint’s name and managed to fire again, but the beast came even closer. Then, from somewhere behind her she heard two louder shots.

  Clint’s rifle! The beast was nearly on top of her. It fell, and she screamed as it took her with it, both of them tumbling dangerously close to the fire. Instantly something grabbed her away and tore the six-gun from her hand. She heard four more shots. The growling stopped.

  “Clint!” she screamed.

  In almost the same instant she was in his arms. “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know! I don’t know!”

  “It was a grizzly! He’s dead, I hope. Stay here a minute. I’ve got to calm the horses so they don’t run off. The smell of that bear isn’t helping!”

  He left her near their tent and ran over to calm the horses, retying them. He returned then to where she sat, pulling her around to the other side of the fire from where the bear lay so he could see her better. He ran his hands over her face, looking deeply concerned.

  “Did he take a swipe at you?” he asked. “Hurt you in any way?”

  “I don’t think so. It all happened so fast,” she answered, shaking. “I shot at it, just like you told me to do, but it didn’t help!”

  “No six-gun will stop a grizzly. And here I was worried about wolves, which we still do need to worry about now, what with a dead bear lying here. It’s going to be one sleepless night.” He heaved a deep sigh. “We’ll have to move camp. That bear probably weighs a thousand pounds. There’s no way I can drag him away. Do you think you can help carry everything to a different area?”

  He held her arms, and she grasped his shoulders. “I’ll do whatever I need to do.” She couldn’t help tears of fright and shock. “Oh, Clint, what if you hadn’t managed to bring him down with your rifle?” Without thinking, she flung her arms around his neck. “Thank God!”

  His arms came around her in return. “I was more worried I’d hit you with the rifle instead of the bear.”

  “Not you,” she answered without thinking. “You know how to use your guns. You’d never miss.”

  They stood there a moment…in each other’s arms. She thought how he smelled good in spite of not having bathed for days…in spite of just coming from gutting the moose. Around his neck and hair he still smelled good, a manly smell she’d come to recognize as distinctly Clint Brady’s.

  It took both of them a moment to realize what they were doing…holding each other…enjoying it. The spell was broken by the howl of wolves in the distance.

  “Let’s get away from here,” Clint said, letting go.

  Rather stunned by the sweet feeling of being held close in his arms, Elizabeth said nothing as she helped him break camp. She wondered if Clint had felt the same sweet joy as she while he held her. Dear Lord, am I falling in love? Is this how it feels?

  No! It was wrong to feel this way about a man like Clint. Totally wrong!

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Deliver me, O Lord, from the evil man: preserve me from the violent man; which imagines mischief in his heart; continually are they gathered together for war.

  —Psalms 140:1-
2

  The days were growing too short. Clint realized that even though it was the end of August and not all that late, it was pitch-dark when they’d resettled their camp. He climbed down from a pine tree where he’d hung the moose hide that held the fresh meat tied inside, only a fraction of what could have been taken from the carcass. The hide hanging in the tree held all the weight they could afford to add to the back of one of the horses.

  With a sigh of both weariness and relief, he walked over to sit down on a blanket near the fire. He lit a rolled cigarette, taking a long first drag to further settle his nerves. He noticed Elizabeth’s hands shaking as she turned the sliced meat he’d given her, now cooking in the black fry pan.

  “What a day,” he commented. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Well, nothing hurts, except the back of my head from hitting the ground. I certainly will have a tale to tell my grandchildren.”

  Clint grinned. Our grandchildren. The unexpected thought quickly sobered him. What on earth had caused him to think it at all? He felt like cursing her for throwing her arms around his neck. Darned if he hadn’t wanted to hang on. He’d enjoyed the feel of her against him, the smell of her hair. The trouble was, that quick embrace was going to make sleeping in the same tent with her more difficult.

  “That’s for sure,” he answered, taking another drag on the cigarette. He’d get over this feeling. It was just from the scare of thinking she’d been hurt. It brought back all the guilt he felt for not being with Jen when she was killed. He might have been able to stop the whole thing. And Ethan. Poor little Ethan. Had he cried out for his daddy when—

  They heard growling in the distance, and the horses shifted nervously again and whinnied.