Berge cleared his throat. “I’ll have someone assist you packing your supplies. Don’t bring anything extra. No books.”
She hooked a hand over one hip. “Whom have you been speaking with?”
The corner of his mouth twisted up. “Ranger Jennings.”
Her heart sank. She shouldn’t have expected Ford to check on her. Why should he? She’d thrown his advice back in his face, not to mention the job he’d been so kind to humor her with all summer. If only he hadn’t been such a Neanderthal about it. “I forbid it.”
“Fine. No books.” She glanced at the painting of the mountain on the far wall, the summit piercing through a thick band of clouds. She could survive two days without reading material. After all, she’d have a large group of men for company. There’d have to be at least one good conversationalist in the bunch.
Ford tugged at the frayed wire where it lay coiled under the eaves. Sunlight filtered through the cracks in the Inn’s roof. “Why did you recommend Berge? Why not one of the other guides?”
Luke grunted as he shifted a crate blocking their work area. “Berge is the most experienced man we have on board. He knows the mountain better than anyone, and he’s been leading climbs for over a decade.”
“He takes chances.”
Ford’s friend leaned forward, his eyes earnest. “All climbers do. It’s in their nature. But every time someone sets foot on the mountain it’s a risk, and he’s more cautious and meticulous than most—especially since the slide.” He shook his head and heaved the crate a second time. “I know you’re haunted by what happened, but you can’t blame Berge. He’s lived under the shadow of the accident ever since, just like you.”
“Not like me. I wasn’t there. Maybe if I had been—”
“You’d have died with the rest, and I’d be short a good friend. Ford, I thank God you decided to skip that climb.”
Ford yanked the wire loose, “I’m not sure God had much to do with it.” He inspected the battered insulation.
Luke’s brows drew down. “Why is this eating at you so badly? Berge has led dozens of climbs since your dad’s, and he’s gone up with lots of our staff. Why does it bother you that Margie chose him?” His friend sat back on his heels. “Unless…” His smile grew as the truth dawned on him. “You and Margie? Truly?”
“Don’t start. It’s not like that.” Ford dug through his toolbox for better cutters. “Well, not completely.”
“I should have realized before now.” His eyes widened. “Does her father know?”
“There’s nothing for him to know. There might have been at one time, but not now. She made that perfectly clear.”
“Oh.” Luke’s face fell. “I’m sorry. You know, I never figured out—how did she end up at Rainier, anyway? Did her father pull some strings?”
“And some money crossed the superintendent’s desk.”
Luke paused. “He’s paying you to keep an eye on her?”
“No. He donated money toward the new administration building.” Ford rubbed a hand over his eyes. “And I don’t think she knows about that. Probably best you forget I said anything.”
“It’s not good to keep secrets, my friend. They have a way of coming back to bite you in the end.”
Ford’s mind wandered back to Henrik Berge as he twisted the damaged wire between his fingertips, eyeing the shorn edges. “I think you’ve got a rat’s nest up here.” Perhaps more than one. Hadn’t his father expressed doubt in the Norwegian before the accident? The single offhand comment had bothered Ford ever since. His dad hadn’t elaborated, and Ford hadn’t taken it seriously. At the time.
“We trap more rodents in this building than a cheese factory. I’m surprised they’re not abandoning the sinking ship like everyone else.”
“Because of Carmichael? I’d think the hotel staff would be excited about his ideas. Plenty of work, nicer facility.” Ford gestured up at the ceiling. “And you, my friend, won’t have to spend the winters up here alone.”
“Ford, we work on this mountain because we love it. We love this building. We love our guests. That’s all going to change.”
The low notes in Luke’s voice matched the gloom riding in Ford’s chest. “I’m sorry. I wish there was more I could do. I’ve rattled Harry’s cage more times than I can count, but he thinks Carmichael is God’s gift to the park service. New facilities at no price? Promises of prosperity? The park’s on a shoestring budget. There’s barely enough to pay salaries, much less upgrade the buildings.”
“What we need are more rich senators with lovely daughters. But the next one’s mine, you hear?”
Ford ignored the foolish remark as he put the wire cutters away. “I’m starting to sound like my dad, constantly going on about park needs. Maybe I’m wrong about this whole issue. Perhaps I should jump on board and go with the changes. Harry might be right.”
Luke laid a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “He’s not. And your father never would have traded the park’s integrity for a few dollars.”
“It’s more than a few.”
Luke leaned in, examining the rodent damage. “Margie thinks this little wager she has with Carmichael might solve everything.”
“You think she can make it?”
“Don’t you?”
Ford cut the wire free. “I’d feel better if she weren’t climbing with Berge.”
“You’re missing the obvious solution here.”
Ford glanced up, meeting Luke’s intense gaze. “What’s that?”
“Go with her.”
A chill washed over him. “I can’t do that.”
Luke twisted the new wire into place and tightened it down. “You’ve made the climb at least four or five times. I never knew a seasonal ranger so eager to test himself.”
“That was before.” Ford dropped the tools into the box and stood, the attic suddenly growing close despite the obvious ventilation.
“What are you afraid of, Ford? You’re an experienced climber. You could ensure Margie makes it to the top and then come here and stuff that in Carmichael’s face.” Luke rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “What is it? Do you think you’re going to die up there like your dad?”
A sickening quiver ran through Ford’s gut. “I’m not afraid to die.”
“Then what?”
Ford closed his eyes, transported back into his nightmare without a moment’s warning. “I’m afraid of finding him.”
Luke’s pliers clattered to the floorboards. “It’s a big mountain. Hundreds of people have climbed its flanks since the accident. You’re not going to—”
“I know.” Ford cut off Luke’s words. “I didn’t say it made sense. But I wasn’t there, Luke. Harry wouldn’t let me go on the search. He hauled me off the mountain three times when I tried to join the rescue parties.”
“So you think they’re still up there.”
“Of course they’re up there. Where else would they be?”
“Under twenty feet of ice—at least. Ford, you’re not going to see him.” Luke shrugged. “But that’s not all you’re afraid of.”
Ford choked, swallowing the pathetic laugh trying to burst from his chest. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Your dad’s accident may have kept you off the mountain for two years, but you’re more afraid of losing someone else now.”
Margie. Ford sank down in the dim light, crouching on his heels.
Luke knelt beside him. “Look, you don’t believe there’s a God to protect her. And it’s obvious you’re unwilling to trust her safety to Henrik Berge.” He laid a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “As far as I see it, you’ve only got one other option.”
Spots of light from the ceiling danced across the floor as Ford stared out over the dusty space. “Me.”
Margie rubbed her eyes as she left the dormitory and walked out into the predawn gloom. Hopefully one didn’t need sleep in order to climb a mountain, because she hadn’t managed more than a few catnaps all night. Now a crushing ache throbbed in her tem
ples. She never should have agreed to this. Just as Ford had said, she’d played right into Philip’s hands.
Picking her steps carefully through the darkness, Margie made her way to the Guide House. The sun wouldn’t be up for at least an hour, but she needed to be packed and ready to go well before then. She tightened the belt holding up the khaki trousers, the seat waterproofed with a stiff coating of paraffin. The RNPC had provided everything from her hat to the tall, lace-up boots. She might look ridiculous, but at least she’d be warm and dry.
She tucked her hands in her pockets to keep them warm. No books, no bag, no supplies. If only she had her journal, at least she wouldn’t feel so lost and alone. A sketch of the view from the top—wouldn’t that be the perfect last entry for the summer? But no, she’d disposed of one of her most treasured possessions during a childish fit. Margie sighed. At least Carson had interrupted her before she remembered to burn it. Maybe she could still retrieve the book after all this was said and done.
But then, if she failed in her summit attempt, she might never want to lay eyes on it again.
She opened the Guide House door and slipped inside the still dark building.
“Good morning, my little alpine flower.” Philip’s voice cut through the still air. A circle of light spread out from the lamp beside his chair.
Margie pulled her arms close. “Why are you here?” She scanned the room for Henrik, but no one else was about.
“I came to wish you well, of course.” He closed the book on his lap. Alpine Lodges of Austria. “And to be certain none of your park service friends interfered with our deal. I’d hate to think they’d be so dishonest, but one never knows.”
“How did you know I’d be going today?”
“I have my sources. And I’m glad you’re up here at Paradise where I can keep my eye on you. I never liked thinking of you living next door to that man, especially after what I witnessed in Tacoma. The fire was fortuitous, if you ask me.”
Fortuitous? That she’d lost her belongings and the park was short a cabin?
He stood, placing the book on the table. “Now, tell me you’ll be careful. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. And I’d hate to see your father lose something so precious to him.”
Philip’s obsession with her father had gotten out of hand. “I secured the best guide at the service.”
“Of course you did. Nothing but the best. Should I help you organize your gear?”
“I’ll do that.” Another voice rumbled through the darkness. Ford stepped through the door, an ice ax balanced in his right hand.
Her heart jumped. “Ford?”
Philip’s eyes narrowed. “What a surprise.”
She rushed over and closed the door behind him. “You’re coming?” The knots in her back uncoiled. With Ford at her side, she could do anything. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Where else would I be?” A faint smile crossed his face.
“This wasn’t part of the deal.” Drawn brows hooded Philip’s cool gaze.
Ford drew close to Margie, stopping short of touching her. “I don’t remember you saying anything about companions.”
“And she has one. I saw to it she hired a guide.” Philip folded his arms across his chest. “I want her to be safe, after all.”
“That’s what we all want.”
A tickle of unease crawled through Margie’s system. “Ford, I’ve already trained with Henrik. We’re going with a large party.”
“I know.” Ford’s lips turned down as he adjusted the rope coiled over one shoulder. “I wasn’t planning on guiding the trip, Margie. I’m only lending a hand. Keeping an eye on things.”
Keeping an eye on her, he meant. A little of the excitement leaked out of her. For a moment she’d thought this was a vote of confidence. But no, he didn’t believe she could do anything without his assistance.
Philip took a cigarette from his pocket and tapped it against his palm. “I suppose it’s fine, then. But I hope you’ll leave her in the hands of the experts.”
Henrik appeared at the stairway. “Don’t worry, Mr. Carmichael. I’m well equipped for any emergency.”
Trudging up the Muir snowfield, Ford glanced between Margie just in front of him and Berge in the lead. He was glad to be staring at the man’s back because Berge hadn’t stopped scowling since Ford walked into the Guide House. The guide’s barked orders had cast a pall over the excited party.
Ford had been careful to greet everyone—four students from the University of Washington, two bankers from Olympia, a metalsmith from Tacoma, and three rock climbers up from Colorado. He’d checked and rechecked the gear, then tromped outside to study the clear sky, positive a storm would boil up at any moment. Something—anything—to give him reason to call off this adventure.
Margie floundered in the snow, leaning heavily on her alpenstock as the group moved up the steep incline. Her short legs were a distinct disadvantage.
“Doing all right?” Ford stopped behind her, determined to stay where he could catch her if she slipped.
“You’ve asked me that four times now.” She spoke over her shoulder, pushing the words through panting breaths. Margie had been a good sport for the first few miles, but now the elevation and exertion seemed to be dragging her down. Since they weren’t even to the base camp, this didn’t bode well for tomorrow’s climb.
“You’re going to be fine. Just keep placing one boot in front of the other.”
He couldn’t make out her muttered reply. Apparently he wasn’t going to win today. Maybe it was best just to let her struggle along in silence. It didn’t matter if she enjoyed herself, just that she stayed alive.
Ford brushed away the dismal thought. Conditions couldn’t be more optimal. Even with the August sunshine beating down, temperatures were cool enough to keep the ice firm—as long as they didn’t dally too long.
No reason except the sour-faced man at the front, his shoulders pulled forward as he led the way up the snowfield. A sliver of remorse cut through Ford. Other than his father’s one veiled comment, Ford had no valid reason to blame Berge for the accident. Ford studied the guide’s hunched posture. Did Berge still carry guilt from the accident, clinging to his spine like an extra pack? Did every climb remind him of that fateful day?
Ford had climbed multiple times with Berge before the accident. But for the past two years, he’d stayed clear of the Guide House and everything to do with climbing. After taking his father’s post, it had become a simple matter to assign other rangers to any necessary work in the higher elevations. Ford could stay in the forest, far from the glaciers that had stolen not only his father, but his confidence.
Berge hadn’t had such a luxury. The man looked a mere shadow of his former self, like a tree stunted and gnarled from the harsh life in the alpine.
Margie slouched to a stop.
He caught himself before running into her. “Are you—oh, sorry. I said I wouldn’t ask again.”
Her shoulders shook. Was she crying? She couldn’t be pushed past the point of exhaustion. He’d seen her conquer the trail to Indian Henry’s without breaking a sweat. Ford clambered a few steps so he could stand beside her. “It’s all right. We’ll catch up at base camp.” He ducked his head, trying to get a glimpse of her face in the glare.
Margie threw her head back, her laughter pealing across the snow. She gripped her alpenstock in one gloved hand, placing the other across her mouth to stifle the giggles.
Had she lost all of her senses? “What’s so funny?”
“I’m climbing a mountain.” She lifted the dark glasses to wipe the tears now dotting her red cheeks. “Can you believe this?”
His heart lifted. “And that’s funny because…”
“Because of how absurd it is. I’ve never wanted to climb a mountain. I’m a lowlander. I’m afraid of heights. I never even liked standing on our balcony at home because it hung so high above the hillside.”
He shook his head, pushing away the though
t that the woman had gone over the edge.
She gestured up at the peak. “And I’m almost there.”
Ford squinted up the slope. “Not exactly. I’d say we’ve still almost two thousand vertical feet before we reach Camp Muir. And then another four thousand to the summit. And that’s just the elevation gain.”
She stabbed the ice with her stick. “Don’t burst my bubble, Ford. I’m farther than I thought I would ever go.”
“Does that mean we can go home? Because I can go tell Berge—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m enjoying this. That’s what’s so surprising. It’s beautiful up here. There’s so much…” She swung her arms around and halted, staring down the steep slope. “So much…” Her voice faded, her skin losing its rosy hue.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Ford grabbed her and spun her toward the base camp. “Keep your eyes forward. No looking down.”
She dropped to her knees, clutching at the snow. “What was I thinking? I can’t do this.”
He bent over, awkwardly patting her knapsack. “You’re going to be fine. Take a few deep breaths.” He waited until she complied. “What were you going to say before? So much what?”
“Sky.” She choked out the word. “Father, help me. We’re so high up.”
“You’re going to be fine. Don’t think about it. Just keep walking.” How could a woman be so strong one moment and a quivering mess the next? He glanced up the slope, the rest of the party shrinking in the distance. It’s a good thing they weren’t roped together yet.
“Yes. Walking. That’s good. We’re walking. I love a blue sky. I’m just not accustomed to being so close to it.” She pushed her gloves against the ice and wavered to her feet. “We’re just going to Narada Falls. Or Rampart Ridge. Surrounded by trees, beautiful safe trees. That’s what I’m going to tell myself.”
He grabbed her alpenstock and pressed it into her palm. “Right. Me, too. Let’s go to Indian Henry’s again, as soon as we get home. Will you do that, Margie?”
The Road to Paradise Page 21
