“But…you stayed for a year when the permanent opening came up,” Eric said.
“Because I met you,” Lindsey admitted. “But I missed my sisters. Missed my parents. Missed the relaxing life of the Sunbelt. I don’t like it here, Eric. These mountains have always been full of death.”
Lindsey knew that the valuable resources of the High Sierra had caused the white man to wipe out 250,000 of the 300,000 Native Americans who’d occupied the land four thousand years before them. Then those same newcomers had started cutting down the giant redwoods and sequoias and cedars. They killed off the wildlife, too, including all the grizzlies. Only the smaller black bears remained. Pioneers who’d crossed the mountains for free land in Oregon and then gold in California also died in the mountains.
“I know the history, Lindsey,” Eric said impatiently. “But I can’t change the past—or allow it to affect the present. The land and wildlife are protected now, as are Native Americans. Things have changed for the better.”
“Have they? Weather conditions haven’t changed. People like Eva still die in the snow. Yosemite is as remote and inaccessible as ever, despite modern technology and advancements—and the police. Why do you think criminals like Wilson find it so appealing? Criminals and hermits. It’s a place for people who want isolation—or want to hide.”
“I’m not one of those.”
“Your sister is. She came here because of her husband’s death.”
“I…never knew you felt that way,” Eric said. Lindsey heard the surprise in his voice.
“No, you didn’t. People like the Donners and Reeds and Breens of the Donner Party may be courageous settlers to you, pioneers who conquered what were almost insurmountable odds. But look at the price they paid! Cannibalism. Even individuals like John Muir paid dearly. Other people didn’t see him as a wilderness explorer, conservationist or scientist. He was a university-educated man, yet they mocked him for saying glaciers created Yosemite Valley. They laughed when he said the land and its resources needed to be protected. Instead, they employed him to herd sheep, slop pigs and build henhouses so he could feed himself and finance his wildlife expeditions.”
“That was Muir’s choice,” Eric reminded her, rising to his feet to poke at the fire. “If it weren’t for Muir, there’d be no National Forest Service or Sierra Club. No Yosemite National Park. Some people have to dedicate themselves to the land, Lindsey.”
“True, but at what cost? Near his death, John Muir’s closest companion was his mule, Brownie, not a wife and children. He did most of his work and spent most of his life alone, despite his legacy of conservation and parks. Maybe he was willing to pay that price. Maybe you are, too, Eric, but I’m not. I thought I could when I met you, but—” She stopped abruptly. “I wouldn’t trade a single child’s life for all the wilderness in the world.”
Eric replaced the poker. “For God’s sake, Lindsey, no one’s asked you to,” he said quietly. “Certainly not the Park Service.”
“You expected it, Ric. The assumption was always there. Always!” She rose to her feet. “You assumed I’d spend the rest of my life here—with you. Tell me I’m wrong,” she challenged.
A telling pause proved Lindsey’s point.
“I can’t spend my life protecting a land that kills. Protecting those on the land—even sacrificing my life for them—yes. But dying for the land itself? I won’t. There are other parks and other places that need me—places where snow doesn’t kill rangers…where madmen with rifles don’t shoot rangers in the back! There are hundreds of winter jobs elsewhere—and only four here in Yosemite. I’m no John Muir, and this isn’t the past. The mountains won’t crumble if I leave. The gold diggers won’t bring in the saws and dynamite. I’m not indispensable to this park, Eric.”
“I see. And when it comes to your personal life, I’m indispensable.” The words knifed through the air, painful in their truth.
“You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said.” Lindsey’s voice was defeated.
“But I have. Perhaps we should’ve had this conversation before you agreed to marry me. I’m not a mind-reader, Lindsey.” She heard the hurt and bitterness, especially the bitterness, in Eric’s voice. “I could have saved myself a trip to the jewelry store.”
“I left the ring at the office for you,” Lindsey said. “Did you get it back?”
“Is that all you care about?”
“You should’ve been able to get a refund….”
“True enough,” he spat out. “You never wore it.”
Lindsey found herself on the defensive. “Fine jewelry and rock-climbing aren’t a good match. I was afraid of damaging it.”
“Unlike the ring you wear now.”
His cutting tone stung, and her defensiveness changed to a bitterness of her own. “I gave up a lot of things when I left here. Rock-climbing, too. Figured I’d flirted with enough danger for a while.” She rose and deliberately reached for Ginger’s leash, which hung from a nail on the mantel.
“You didn’t give up using the same excuses, though,” he countered. “The damn dog doesn’t need to go out.”
“So we’re not going to be polite and civilized?”
“Think, Ranger!” Eric said, his demeanor changing from bitter ex-lover to that of a concerned superior. “There’s a man out there with a rifle who doesn’t mind using it! Better the dog urinates on the floor than takes a bullet. Or you! No more storming-out dramatics. These are wartime rules for everyone.”
Lindsey flushed from shame. “I…I didn’t think…”
“No one leaves this cabin without my permission and without a rifle. We’re on the buddy system. We go outside only for emergencies, and only if I say it’s an emergency. That includes the dog. Understand?”
She nodded miserably, unable to meet his gaze as she twisted the leash in her hands. Seconds later, the lights flickered, then went out. Lindsey’s gaze flew to Eric’s. They both spoke simultaneously.
“The generator!”
As Lindsey reached for her coat and Eric his rifle, she didn’t bother asking if he considered this an emergency. They hurried outside. As if to add to her fears, it had started snowing again.
CHAPTER TEN
Day 5, predawn, still snowing
LINDSEY YAWNED ONCE, twice, then shook her head. Neither she nor Eric had been to bed, yet. The generator had rattled and breathed its last, despite Eric’s efforts and Lindsey’s silent prayers. The two rangers had spent the later part of the night bringing in as much chopped wood as the common room could hold. Eric started up the woodstove. After that, he woke his sister. He, Lindsey and Naomi moved the couch far back against the common room wall and shoved the men’s two beds out of the bedroom to save space, pushing them together and as close to the fire as safety permitted. After making them with fresh sheets, extra blankets and down sleeping bags, Naomi carried Pam to the couch, wrapping her in a third sleeping bag.
Luckily, the child slept through the whole process. Moving Keith wasn’t as easy. It took all three of them to shift Keith, using the blanket beneath him as a stretcher. He tried to help, but the blood loss had made him weak. He groaned with pain as they settled him down. Naomi unzipped Keith’s bag, and tucked it around him as best she could, then added more blankets.
“I can’t get it under him and zipped without jostling his shoulder. I don’t want to start it bleeding again. Think he’ll be warm enough?”
“The cabin’s still warmish from the generator, and the coals are hot. Plus the woodstove’s running,” Lindsey reassured the other woman.
“Yes, but…Eric, can’t you get the generator going again?” Naomi asked, desperation in her voice. The two oil lamps now burning revealed deep furrows in her brow. At the moment, she looked far older than her twin did.
“I tried, sweetie, but no luck,” Eric replied. “Keith warned us the machinery could fail. But we’ve got plenty of wood to last out this snowfall.”
“And we still have the propane heater for water and coo
king. We can use it to heat inside, if need be,” Lindsey said, trying to stifle another yawn, and failing.
Naomi fussed over Keith, then turned to Lindsey. “You and Eric need some sleep. Take my bed.”
Lindsey blinked. “But…” The thought of her and Eric sharing a bed again jolted her sore, tired body wide awake.
“I’ll share the couch and my sleeping bag with Pam. Until the stove really catches, blankets won’t be warm enough. There’s no room in here for a third bed unless we move more furniture, and it’s too late to be doing that.”
“Too early,” Eric corrected, checking his wristwatch. “And we won’t need to share a bed, Lindsey. I’ll do first watch.” He gestured toward the oil lamps, one on the mantel, the other on the oak kitchen table. “Naomi, you need these?”
“Not anymore. I’ve done all I can for Keith and Pam tonight.”
Silently Naomi started undressing as Eric blew out the kitchen lamp.
“I’m worried that Keith might start bleeding again. Wake me in a few hours so I can check him, okay? Then I’ll stand the next watch.”
“Will do.”
Lindsey stayed in her thermals as well, in case Naomi or Eric needed her. The thought of having to waste time dressing during a medical emergency didn’t appeal to her, nor did fighting a madman in the nude. As long as the fire still burned and the woodstove caught, she didn’t need to strip to stay warm. However, before she climbed into her sleeping bag, she retrieved Keith’s rifle and placed it at her side, safety on, the first slot of the clip empty. She’d lost the love of her life to circumstance, but she’d be damned if she’d lose him—or anyone else, for that matter—to death. Although aware of her motions, neither twin commented as she settled the gun and her sleeping bag. Ginger hopped onto the foot of the bed. Within seconds, far more quickly than she could have imagined, she fell asleep, victim of mental, physical and emotional exhaustion.
“YOU SHOULD LIE DOWN, Naomi,” Eric suggested from the kitchen chair he’d moved closer to the woodstove. His sister had quietly joined the sleeping Pam on the couch, but sat up with a blanket wrapped around her, watching the hot coals inside the fireplace.
“If I thought I could sleep, I would.” Naomi sighed. “Look at Lindsey. She just drops off with a rifle at her side like nothing’s going on. I envy her.”
“She’s not as calm as she looks.”
“No kidding. I heard you two arguing earlier. Why is everything so difficult with her?”
“Damned if I know.” Eric pulled his flannel jacket more tightly around his body, his gaze on Lindsey. “We never seem to agree on anything. Doesn’t matter what it is—from using liniment to wedding dates.” He shook his head. “Her legs are gonna hurt in the morning.”
“I never heard you two argue in the bedroom,” she said with a twin’s frankness. “Maybe that’s where you should settle your problems.”
Eric remained silent, knowing his sister would take the hint. She did and changed the subject.
“Lindsey told me Keith has a…thing for me.”
“She told me, too.”
“Think it’s true?”
“Don’t go by me. I can’t figure out my own love life. Or lack of it.”
Naomi turned from the coals toward her brother; the inside of the room was cast in darkness, save for the dull red in the fireplace and the yellow within the grate of the woodstove. Outside, snow continued to fall, insulating the cabin and accentuating Yosemite’s isolation.
“Maybe you should tell Lindsey you love her—while you still can.”
“Wilson or no Wilson, I don’t plan on kicking the bucket anytime soon,” Eric stated. “Besides, now is hardly the time to tell her something like that.”
“When is the right time? It could’ve been Lindsey who took a bullet, instead of Keith. It could’ve been both of them!”
Eric exhaled heavily. “Remind me not to appoint you morale officer.”
“You know I’m right.”
“Go to bed, Naomi. You volunteered for next watch.”
“I know.” Naomi carefully unzipped the bag and joined the sleeping child inside. Pam moaned, curled up in Naomi’s arms, then relaxed again. “Poor thing.” Naomi drew the child close.
“Good night,” Eric said.
“Night,” Naomi replied.
Time passed. Eric added more wood to the stove—safer to use at night with sleeping people than the fireplace. He thought Naomi was asleep until he heard her quiet voice break the stillness.
“Eric…”
“Hmm?”
“How could I not have known?” she asked.
Eric immediately understood what she meant. “About Keith?”
“Yeah. Am I really so stupid?”
“I thought you gave me that award.”
“Wrong. I married a man I loved who practically wrecked my life by dying on me. I’m in the middle of nowhere, holding a child whose father may have cost her both feet, and tending a man who took a bullet for me. And I haven’t been able to make you happy since Lindsey left.”
“What do you want me to say, Naomi?” Eric asked, feeling as weary as he’d ever felt in his life.
“I want you to get her back! If I die, you won’t have any close family.”
“You’re not going to—”
“For God’s sake, Eric, I could have cancer. Cancer kills!” she hissed. “If I died, who’d take care of you? And don’t say you’d take care of yourself.”
“I would. Besides, Lindsey can’t replace you. She can’t be my sister—my twin.”
“No. But she can be part of your life again if you don’t blow it. Eric, I was wrong about her—wrong about you both four years ago. I went crazy after my husband died. I wasn’t myself. I would have—and did—say anything I could to keep you two apart. I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”
Eric swallowed, unable to speak. What he had thought of as Lindsey’s treachery had been Naomi’s all along—and his. Lindsey had remained true to him, but he hadn’t remained true to her.
“I can’t bear the thought of you alone,” she continued. “Twin, you’ve got to get out of here—out of Yosemite! This place may not kill you as quickly as it did Eva, but it’s killing any chance you might have at happiness.”
Eric felt the cold inch down his spine, and shivered. Lindsey had said something along those same lines about herself earlier.
“If I have cancer, Mom and Dad will take care of me. Promise me you’ll leave here when Lindsey does,” Naomi begged. “Promise me you’ll stay together.”
Eric’s throat tightened, his words hoarse with emotion when he finally spoke. “I’ll think about it,” he said. “That’s all I can offer.”
“That’s enough for now. Good night, big brother,” she said, using his old childhood nickname. “Love you.”
Even as toddlers, Eric had been the taller twin, in addition to being born six minutes before his sister. “Love you, too.”
“See how easy it is to say those words? Say them to Lindsey next.”
“Shut up, Naomi,” Eric said without rancor.
“I will if you kiss me good-night. Despite my husband’s death, I’ve still taken too many things in my life for granted.”
“Just my patience,” Eric said, affection in his voice. He bent over and kissed his sister on the cheek, as he had done ever since he could remember. “Good night, sweetie.”
He zipped up the bag the rest of the way and tucked an extra down blanket around his sister and her young charge. Then, not caring if Naomi saw or not, he stepped over to Lindsey’s bed and gently kissed her forehead. As he dared to push a strand of hair off her cheek, he wondered if he and Lindsey could ever be together again.
Day 5, noon
THE ADULTS, EXCEPT FOR Keith, had risen later than usual. Lindsey herself felt more or less rested as she dressed, though stiff and sore from neck to calf. She and Eric, along with Ginger, were headed outside. It had taken both of them a half hour to clear away three feet of s
now from the porch door and the higher drifts beyond. Thigh-high snow covered the short path to the outhouse, where once again they had to shovel a path. The woodpile was no different. Drifting snow had to be cleared there, as well, even though the wood was stacked on the leeward side of the cabin with an extended roof slanted and supported to protect it.
Lindsey turned her attention toward the roof. “I don’t think we’ll need to shovel the roof, yet,” she said. Snow was good insulation against the windchill factor, but too much weight could collapse the cabin roof. The roof was built with a high center and sharply dropping sides, which not only aided gravity in keeping too much snow from building up, it also prevented the more agile mammals from descending the chimney to raid their food supplies in the summer.
“I don’t want anyone up there,” Eric said sharply. With his gun, binoculars and brisk attitude, he was all business. “Down here we have some cover. Up on the roof Wilson could pick us off easily.”
The cabin had been deliberately built in a small copse of trees, rare at these high altitudes. The trees provided a windbreak for the corrals during the summer. The cabin had been set in a small depression in the center of a group of low hills, somewhat protecting it from the harsh, icy winds and subzero temperatures.
“If he’s got any brains, he’ll stay holed up,” Lindsey murmured.
“If the weather doesn’t get him, I will,” Eric said.
Lindsey couldn’t decide which was the bigger danger to Wilson. Despite the lack of wind, it was bitterly cold. The snow continued to fall thick and heavy. Already the drifts against the generator shack were more than halfway up the small building. To Lindsey, the stacks of wood suddenly looked inadequate. Eric must have noticed her gaze.
“We’ll have to start in on the dead trees soon,” he said. The park kept a pile of dead trees, hauling them down near the corrals to season and dry, then be chopped and recycled into fencing and firewood.
Lindsey mentally groaned. Her snowshoeing aches and pains had replaced those she’d incurred while cross-country skiing. She remembered from the past how using an ax and chainsaw could start new aches and pains, even in muscles used to such hard tasks. “I’m getting too damn old for this,” she muttered.
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