He let out a long sigh and put his head in his hands. “How does a man win an argument with you?”
“He doesn’t.”
He sat there several long, quiet seconds. “All right,” he finally told her, his head still in his hands. “A pound of coffee, a sack of beans, a sack of flour and…” He threw his head back. “I must be slowly losing my mind.” He rose and turned away. “Two blankets and a horse and saddle.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Thank you, Clint! God will bless you richly, I know it! He’ll make sure the rest of this trip is safe and free of any disasters. Peter will be there when we arrive, and everything will be wonderful! You’re a good, good man, Clint Brady.”
She quickly lost her smile when his own eyes flashed with belligerence. “We’ll find out when we reach Dawson, considering the fact that Roland Fisher is worth five thousand dollars! God knows I’ll need that by the time you’re through spending and giving away everything I own!”
Elizabeth’s first reaction was to spit back something in her defense, but she held her tongue. She told herself he didn’t really mean it. He was just reacting to the moment…angry that he’d let himself give in to his own feelings of pity for Hugo and Earlene. He’d be sorry later that he’d got so mad.
It was the part about Roland Fisher that scared her. She’d almost forgotten about Clint’s real reason for going to Dawson. Obviously he had not forgotten. The old Clint was still rearing his vengeful, defensive head, and that Clint would take a lot more praying for.
She stood up and faced him. “Thank you anyway. And if things…don’t work out between us…I’ll find a way to pay you back somehow.”
He waved her off. “Forget it. Just go get Red Lady. God knows they’d never be able to handle Devil. I’ll gather up the rest of what we’re giving them.” He scowled. “What I’m giving them.”
She watched him lovingly, refusing to let this Clint intimidate her. “God loves you, Clint, and so do I.”
He shook his head. “Then I guess you’re both prone to loving fools.”
No, just good men, Elizabeth thought, smiling as he angrily yanked at ropes to untie supplies for the Peppers.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Be not far from me; for trouble is near; for there is none to help.
—Psalms 22:11
The first five days of rafting the Yukon were beautiful, filled with sunshine and surprisingly smooth waters. However, Clint’s mood was not quite so beautiful and smooth. He wondered if he’d completely lost his mind letting Liz talk him into giving away a perfectly good and valuable horse. Red Lady had meant more to him than he’d realized, and he worried what would happen to the faithful animal. Would the Peppers sell her once they reached Skagway? If they reached Skagway? If so, it would probably be to someone who wanted to use her for a pack horse, meaning she’d have to make that trip over White Pass again.
He couldn’t believe that he felt a pull at his heartstrings whenever he thought about her. He actually missed her. A horse! He missed a horse! He wasn’t supposed to have feelings like that. The old Clint would never have given her to paupers to begin with. He would have sold her for decent money and then not given her another thought.
It was Liz, that’s what it was. She was totally, completely changing him, making him act like a madman. He was to the point of doing just about anything to please her, and that scared him. To go so far as to give away a horse like Red Lady…
Try as he might, he’d been unable to get back into a good mood ever since. He grumped at Liz constantly, but she just breezed around like she didn’t even notice! The fool woman had apparently made up her mind that his mood would not affect her. If Fisher was standing in front of him right now, he’d shoot the man down just to show her…and God…that he hadn’t changed one bit! He didn’t want to change. That would mean finally going on with life, which in turn meant he was ready to put what happened to Jen and his precious Ethan behind him.
He couldn’t help somehow feeling guilty for that. After the way they died, how could he start living as though it had never happened? What right did he have to be happy again? To love another woman?
He stood at the rear paddle of the raft, steering it while Liz held Devil’s bridle and talked to the horse to keep him calm. A fence built around the raft helped Devil feel safer and gave Liz something to hold on to. Devil had been just as skittish as Clint feared he’d be, but the horse seemed to be adapting to floating for most of the day, as long as he could go ashore at night and nibble on winter grass. The problem was there were rapids ahead. This calm mirror of a river could change overnight. The same could happen if a winter storm blew through the canyons they traversed.
He and Liz took turns at steering the raft, and this afternoon was his turn. He liked steering because then he could watch Liz, study the slender form that failed to fill out either her shirt or the men’s pants she wore. Today she’d removed her hat and let down her hair, for the sun shone down surprisingly warm. He’d watched her brush out the thick, auburn waves this morning, remembered how perfect she looked when she wore a fitted dress. In spite of the raw weather they’d faced in getting this far, her skin still looked smooth as porcelain, her cheeks rosy from the cold, a bit of color to the rest of her face from daily exposure to the elements.
Her eyes were what ate at his dreams the most—those soft, green eyes that had a way of ordering him around without saying a word. Maybe if he never looked into them again he could ignore any future wishes and maybe even ignore the feelings she stirred deep in his soul. Still, how could he resist gazing into those beautiful green pools? He wanted her. He’d never wanted anything this much since Jen.
Before falling in love again he’d not realized how much he missed having a good woman beside him every night; missed home-cooked meals and sitting by a fire after supper talking about the day. He missed knowing someone cared about him. He thought he was tough enough to never want those things again…but maybe he wasn’t.
Now he felt bad for being as grumpy as a bear just out of hibernation ever since giving away Red Lady. He’d barely spoken to Liz, other than to give orders, and although his cough truly was getting worse, he’d used it to feign being too miserable to talk around the campfire at night.
Now he felt obligated to make up for his grouchy countenance and for being downright mean to her since leaving Lake Bennett. Somehow he had to get a normal conversation going.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?” he yelled to Elizabeth.
She turned. There was that beautiful smile. There were those full, tempting lips. Her hair shone more red in the sunshine, and it blew in soft whispers around her delicate face. He was glad to see the bruise from her accident on White Pass had faded to a very light green. “Of course I do,” she answered with that air of confidence that drove him nuts.
“Giving that horse away was the most foolish thing I’ve ever done in my life,” he told her, “other than falling in love with you.”
She tossed her hair in a way that drove him crazy, and he realized she probably had no idea how tempting she really was or what it did to a man to have to travel with her and keep hands off.
“Are you saying you’re ready to stop sulking and forgive me for making you give away Red Lady?” she asked with a teasing smile.
He grinned back at her. “I’m only ready to stop sulking. I didn’t say I’d forgive you.”
She laughed lightly, a sound that reminded him of a delicate bird. She was pure. She was perfect. She was all innocence. She was a devout, practicing, giving, forgiving, loving, trusting, praying Christian. She was everything that he was not. Yes, he was nuts. He had no business nor any right loving her, certainly no business and no right expecting her to take him as her husband. He could never live up to her expectations of a truly Christian man. It would be best for her if he left her with her brother once they reached Dawson, then hunted down Roland Fisher and left.
Trouble was, winter would be setting in good by the ti
me they got there. He’d be stuck in Dawson for several months no matter what happened. And how was he going to live in the same tiny little town without seeing her? Worse, how would he stand not seeing her or hearing her voice…or holding her…kissing her.
She had some kind of hold on him, all right.
His thoughts were interrupted by a roaring sound ahead. Liz looked back at him. “What’s that?”
Clint lost his smile and his happy thoughts. He wanted badly to curse, but he held his tongue. “Hang on to the railing and on to Devil,” he shouted. “We must have reached Whitehorse Rapids!”
He’d not expected to come upon this spot until tomorrow. They must have made better time than he’d figured! There wasn’t even time to try to get to shore and figure out what to do next. The current had them now, and when he tried to steer to shore the turning rudder only made the raft spin. Now he did pray.
The roar became almost painful. The raft rose and fell and whirled and sank. Devil whinnied with terror. The raft tilted wildly. The supplies broke loose. Liz screamed and fell into the raging, white, churning waters. Devil followed…and so did Clint.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.
—Psalms 23:4
Elizabeth had no idea where shore was, where Clint was, or the raft…or poor Devil. For this freezing, beating, horrible moment, survival was all she could think of. This was a raging swirl of white water that beat her mercilessly and tossed her like a rag doll, dashing her under to the river’s bottom, then tossing her upward again. Whether a person could swim or not made no difference.
Her hip hit a rock, then she kept tumbling and swirling until by some miracle her hands came upon something she could grasp. She hung on as tightly as possible, pulling hard, begging God to help her get to safety. She pulled herself farther, managing to climb halfway out of the water onto what she realized was a fallen tree. Battered and confused, she just held on, clinging to a branch for several minutes, catching her breath and gathering her thoughts.
She looked around, realizing that just ahead the water slowed to a calmer swirl. She saw nothing there. “Clint!” Where was he? “Clint!” she screamed louder.
There came no reply. Only the sound of rushing water hit her ears, until she heard a whinny. Gasping against the cold, she turned to see Devil standing on shore!
“Devil!” she yelled. “Stay there!” Her woolen coat soggy, her boots filled with water, it took every last ounce of strength for her to climb all the way onto the log. She inched her way to shore, where she pulled off the heavy coat, then sat down and removed her boots, dumping water out of them.
Soaked to the skin, she shook from head to foot. She walked in cold socks over to Devil, checking him over. Miraculously, he appeared to be all right. “Thank you, Jesus,” she said, tears of emotion overwhelming her. She hugged the horse around the neck. “Devil, you’re okay! Now we just have to find Clint!” She kissed the horse’s nose, and Devil nodded and shook his mane as though to say he was glad to see her, too.
Elizabeth tied him to a tree, then looked around, screaming Clint’s name again. She looked up and down the shoreline, then thought she saw something farther to the south. She ran in stockinged feet toward what she’d spotted.
“The raft!” she exclaimed when she drew closer. “Oh, Sweet Jesus!” It wasn’t even broken up! A few things were missing, but she saw that a good deal of the items Clint had tied on were still there. He’d done an excellent job of securing most of the supplies. He was a man who knew about those things…but what about himself? Where was Clint?
Gasping from the intense cold, she took hold of a rope wound around one of the remaining fence posts on the raft and unwrapped it, then hurried across the beach to tie it to a tree so the raft couldn’t float away. She ran back to the raft, quickly loosening a tarp and unrolling it. She took from it a dry blanket, thinking what a smart packer Clint was. She wrapped the blanket around herself, including her hair, which hung wet and limp against her head. She felt of it, realizing then that ice had actually formed on some of it!
She scrambled to think what she should do first. Look for Clint? Build a fire? Cover Devil? Yes, cover Devil first. He probably had ice on him, too. A blanket would help the horse’s own body heat melt the ice. She pulled another blanket free of the tarp and ran back over to the horse to cover him.
“Clint!” she screamed again. She strained to listen to anything besides the roaring, rushing waters. She thought she heard a voice, and it sounded as though it came from her right, to the north. Teeth chattering and tears still wanting to come due to a terrible longing just to be warm, she left in the direction of what she hoped she’d heard…Clint answering her. She screamed his name again.
“Here!” she thought she heard more clearly now.
“Thank God!” she cried. She ran in the direction of the voice, continuing to call his name and hearing replies. She hurried around a bend in the river, then saw a tall figure of a man staggering toward her. A wound on his forehead was bleeding badly.
Elizabeth ran up to him. “Clint!”
He grasped her close. “Thank God,” he said gruffly. “Are you hurt?”
Elizabeth clung to him, hugging him tightly. “I’m all right. My back hurts bad, though, where I was thrown against a rock. And I’m so cold, Clint…so cold!”
“I know.”
Elizabeth could feel him shivering, too, and she thought about the pneumonia that had nearly killed him back in Skagway. This could bring it all back, maybe worse this time. “We’ve got to get back and make a fire, Clint. I found the raft, and most of our supplies were still tied to it!” She looked up at him. “Clint, you’re hurt bad.”
He touched her face, looking her over. “The important thing is that you’re all right. I’m sorry, Liz. I should have been able to help you, but every time I tried to swim to you the waters took you away again.” He hugged her close again. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“Never. God will never let you lose someone you love again. I just know it, Clint.”
He started walking with her then, keeping an arm around her. “Let’s get a fire going and get out of these clothes.”
“Clint, I found Devil! He’s all right!”
“Well, thank God for another miracle,” he answered.
Elizabeth made no comment, just glad that he’d attributed their good fortune to God. They reached the raft, where Clint untied another blanket and wrapped it around himself. Elizabeth heard him coughing heavily as they both hurriedly gathered enough fallen wood to make a fire. Both still trembling from cold, they managed to put up the tent with the entrance practically on top of the fire so that they could feel some of the heat inside. Elizabeth threw both bedrolls inside, then started in herself to huddle against the cold.
“Wait!” Clint demanded. “Get your clothes off first…all of them,” he ordered.
Elizabeth peered at him from the blanket wrapped around her head. “What?”
“Everything off first. We’ve got to dry them out.”
“Clint, the carpet bags that had my clothes in them are missing. I have nothing to change into!”
“I see my leather supply bags are still there. See if you can find a dry shirt. We’ll hang your clothes around the fire and hope it doesn’t snow or rain so they can dry out.”
“And I’m supposed to share a tent with you, wearing nothing but a shirt?”
He put a hand to his head. “Please don’t put it that way. Just do as I ask, okay? Besides, you can wrap a blanket around yourself. Would you rather get sick and die?”
“Well, I—I guess not.”
“You guess not?” He knelt near the fire and put some snow on the wound at his forehead. “Just go get a shirt and do what I ask. And don’t worry. I won’t look.”
Elizabeth knew he was right, but the thought of getting entirely undressed in front
of him embarrassed her to death. Could she trust him? Don’t be silly, she told herself. He loves you, and he’s right. You can’t stay in these wet clothes. She ran over to the raft and dug through his things, finding a shirt that seemed to be dry. She hurried back, grabbing her boots from where she’d left them and setting them near the fire. She looked at Clint. “Turn around and warm your back,” she told him. “It’s too cramped inside the tent to try to do this in there.”
He looked her over in a way that made her shiver, but not from the cold. He turned around then.
“Promise me you won’t look,” she asked.
He shook his head as though disgusted with her. “I promise.” He started coughing again and wrapped the blanket completely around his head.
“What if more boats come along?”
“Go around behind the tent.”
Elizabeth would have preferred to undress close to the fire, but fearful of being seen by strangers, she obeyed. Quickly she stripped off everything, a secret part of her feeling an odd satisfaction at the thought of Clint seeing her this way. After all, if she became his wife…She smiled. Clint Brady would just wrap her in his own warmth and make her feel beautiful and loved.
She pulled on his shirt, the sleeves much too long, and the tail coming to her knees. She was thankful for that much. She rolled up the cuffs and wrapped herself in the blanket again, holding it closed with one hand as she picked up her things with the other and came back around to the fire. “You can look now.”
Clint turned again, and the look of pure appreciation and desire in his eyes made Elizabeth’s blood flow surprisingly warm. She felt her cheeks burning.
“I’ll change into dry clothes and then rig up some kind of scaffolding that we can set over the top of the fire,” he told her, “away from the flames but close enough to catch the heat. We’ll lay everything on that.”
Where Heaven Begins Page 20
