by Regina Scott
His first challenge came from a herd of mountain goats.
Cora and the others had crested a short rise when she spotted them, a cluster of shaggy white against the rocky gray of the hillside. Their backs were humped, their faces were long, their ears stuck out either side, and their short black horns pointed almost accusingly at the sky. Winston must have noticed the herd too, for he drew up short. Waldo stopped beside her.
“See there?” he said, pointing to a bearded fellow standing off by himself looking for all the world as if he were glaring at them. “That’s the lookout. He’s keeping watch for any trouble.”
Her gaze moved to Nathan, who had paused just ahead and appeared to be glaring back at the goat. The lookout took a step forward, daring him to move.
One of the youngsters bounded out of the herd, as if eager to make their acquaintance. A larger goat stormed after him and coerced him back in line. It seemed Cora wasn’t the only one with a mother who liked things just so.
The lookout goat must have taken their measure; he scaled the hillside and led the others in a hasty retreat.
“Show’s over,” Nathan said. “Let’s go.”
And it seemed they were beating a hasty retreat as well.
They sighted the first snow a short while later. The air felt colder too. The hill was so steep now that Nathan had to guide them through a series of switchbacks to climb it. Her breaths came quicker, as if her lungs could not get enough. Worse, she could hear Winston taking great gulps in front of her. When he paused on one of the turns, she passed him to catch up to Nathan.
“Could we rest?” she called, reaching out to touch his shoulder.
He stopped and turned carefully, pack brushing the rocks of the upward side, sending them skittering down onto the path. “For a moment.”
She turned as carefully. For the first time, she had a clear view of how high they’d climbed. Paradise Park was a colorful carpet far below, the snows of the mountains to the south at eye level.
“We’re at about seven thousand feet,” he said as if he’d seen her look. “About seven thousand more to go.”
“And what of Winston?” she asked, nodding to where her stepfather was leaned over, hands braced on his knees, while Waldo stood close as if fearing he was about to plunge over the edge. “Is there nothing we can do to support him?”
“He has to make the climb himself,” he said, voice as deep a rumble as the fall of glacier ice and as hard. “Have you decided what you’re going to do if he can’t?”
To have come so far, climbed so high, only to turn back because of some social stricture? It was not to be borne. “I have to reach the summit. I’ll do what must be done. But I’d prefer Winston be beside me.”
He nodded. “Rest awhile longer. I’ll climb to the top of the ridge and check the way ahead. There’s a slide area that could have been affected by the rain the other day. We may have to go back and detour around it.”
More time, more climbing? That didn’t bode well for her stepfather.
“We’ll follow shortly,” she said. She remained where she was until Nathan made the next turn on the hill, then hurried down to Winston and Waldo.
Her stepfather had removed his pack. She did likewise. It was the work of a moment to flip open the upper flap on his and pull out the blanket and food that were on top.
“Dearest?” he asked between pants. “What . . . are you . . . doing?”
“My pack isn’t balanced well,” she said, transferring the items to hers. “I’d like to even the load.”
He seemed to accept that, though Waldo’s narrowed gaze told her he suspected her true motives.
Her pack weighed on her shoulders and hips as they started up again, but at least Winston’s breathing sounded less labored. She went first now, knowing Nathan must be just ahead. A short time later, they came out onto a flat stretch, with a hill on one side and a drop on the other. But instead of grass, rocks covered the slope. Unlike the rounded boulders of the riverbed, these were jagged, jumbled, as if the mountain had shrugged them off in a fit of pique.
Nathan was waiting just at the base of the slide. “There’s been further fall. The way ahead is partially blocked. We can cross, but it will be slow. I’ll help you over, one at a time. Winston first, then Waldo, then Cora.”
Winston must have been more wearied than she’d thought, for he did not so much as raise a brow at the use of her first name. Waldo, however, grinned.
“Very well,” Cora agreed.
She’d have to make a choice soon. Every step the banker took was one more than Nathan expected. At least crossing the slide required slow, careful movement. Winston’s breath had evened out some by the time he and Nathan reached the other side. Then he pulled off his pack and sat heavily beside it.
“I’ll just wait here, my boy,” he told Nathan.
Almost afraid to let the fellow out of his sight, Nathan made himself turn and go back for Waldo.
“I watched you,” his partner declared. “I know where to walk. Help Miss Baxter.”
Surefooted as a mule, Waldo set out across the rocks.
Nathan reached for Cora. “Take my hand.”
Her fingers slid into his palm, and he marveled at her trust. Cautiously, he directed her over this boulder and around that one. As if the mountain protested, pebbles bounced past their feet. He made himself focus on the rugged basalt in front of him, black and gray and rusty.
Above them came the now-familiar boom of a glacier breaking. A moment more, and another rumble rose, setting the rocks to shifting.
Fear lanced him. He seized her and hauled her over the next boulder to push her in front of him. “Run!”
She ran. Pack banging her back and boys’ shoes slipping on the stones. The rumble grew to a roar. It swept closer, raising dust that fogged his view. He couldn’t lose her. He surged forward, pushing on her pack and shoving her the last few feet to where the hillside opened up into one last grassy patch edged by alpine fir. Winston and Waldo rushed to help them. Cora stumbled into the shade, braced her free hand against the bark, and took deep draughts of the clear air. Behind them, the rumble quieted to a rattle. Drawing a breath as well, Nathan turned to look back the way they’d come and saw only a wall of basalt.
“Rockslide,” he said. “I should have realized any loud noise would set it off. We won’t be able to go back that way.”
He turned again to find that Cora was shaking. He could see the movement in the pack on her back, the bobble of the alpenstock she clung to. A fright could do that. His heart was still pounding from the near miss.
“We’ll find another way,” Waldo assured everyone.
“Quite right,” Winston agreed. He reached out a hand to pat Cora’s shoulder. “There now, dearest. You’re safe. And I can only thank Nathan for it. You, sir, are a hero.”
Nathan shook his head, but Cora glanced his way, look stern as if she dared him to continue arguing. “Yes, he is.”
The mountain rumbled in agreement.
Nathan urged them farther from the slide. “Careful. It wouldn’t take much to bring more down.”
As if to prove it, a pebble rolled down to land by her boot.
Nathan glanced around at them all. Waldo was as taut as a violin bow, Winston’s face had gone white instead of red, and Cora still trembled.
“Are you certain you want to go on?” he asked. “It only gets harder from here.”
Waldo looked to Winston, and the banker looked to Cora. Everyone knew what was at stake. This was her decision, and he would have to honor it, whatever she chose.
18
He’d warned her she might have to choose. She’d thought herself prepared. But panic shook her, as if the mountain were trembling anew.
When she’d fallen in the river, it had seemed only her life that had been at stake. Now she saw what else might be lost. What if Winston had been struck by a falling rock? What if Waldo fell over a cliff? What if Nathan was injured trying to protect them? How could
she justify such a cost?
“I would not see any of you harmed because of me,” she said. “I am willing to continue, but if you feel it too dangerous, I will understand.”
Winston lay a hand on her arm. “Wherever you go, dearest, I go.”
“I’m no turntail,” Waldo assured her.
Nathan gazed down at her, green eyes as bright as the alpine grass in the sunlight. “I am at your service.”
There was no denying that deep voice or the words spoken with such faith.
“Then we go on,” she said.
Nathan nodded. “Catch your breath, and we’ll set out.”
A few minutes later, they were marching again. Cora tried to put the rockslide from her mind and focus on her surroundings. The little dark firs paralleled them for a few yards before halting, as if keeping their toes from the pocket of snow ahead. Nathan waded across. Winston followed. With Waldo at her back, Cora hesitated. The snow was deep enough to reach halfway up Nathan’s shins, likely knee-deep for her. She reached for her skirts with her free hand, then remembered the bloomers. Stretching, she stepped into the hole left by his passing. Well, how nice. Because of Miss Fuller’s bloomers, she could lengthen her steps more than any gown would have allowed. Using her alpenstock for balance, she followed Nathan and Winston across the white.
On the other side, a few more trees greeted them. Nathan paced them for a short while before they had to ford another finger of snow.
“They’re like little rivers,” Cora marveled, pausing to glance up and down the mountain.
“And they’ll only grow wider,” he predicted.
Winston sighed, breath puffing white in the chilling air.
Indeed, the next while was nothing but up onto rocky ridges and down into snow-filled valleys. With Nathan’s assistance, she clambered onto the last ridge, which ran like the spine of some great beast toward the summit.
“How much longer?” she asked, trying to catch her breath.
Winston teetered on his feet, and even Waldo had to pause.
“Several more hours,” Nathan told her. “Rest a moment, then we’ll continue.”
She sighed as she sat on one of the larger outcroppings, Winston and Waldo joining her with grateful smiles. Nathan stretched his shoulders, cracked his neck to one side. Energy radiated off him like a second sun. All too soon, he started out again, stalking along the spine at a pace that kept them moving.
They reached the end of the spine later in the afternoon. Ahead, all she could see was snow.
“Time to put in your spikes,” Nathan said. “And put on the glasses.”
They peeled off the packs. Cora felt as if some of her skin went with hers. Shrugging her weary shoulders, she drew in a deep breath. The air was colder now, the breeze coming straight down the snowfield like a blast of winter.
They all sat on the rocks. Waldo knew what to do, but Nathan showed her and Winston how to insert the steel caulks into the soles of their shoes, much as Len Longmire had done. Soon the bottoms of her feet resembled the back of a porcupine.
Nathan pulled a small jar out of his pack and unscrewed the lid. “Smear this on your nose, cheeks, and chin.”
Cora peered down into the white creamy substance. “What is it?”
“Actor’s paint. It will protect your skin from the sun.”
“Actor’s paint?” Winston asked, perking up. “Ingenious.”
Cora made a face. “And I thought the bloomers were scandalous! Mother would have apoplexy if she knew I was putting on paint.” She scooped up a fingerful and began covering her skin as he’d directed. Winston and Waldo followed suit. The stuff was the consistency of paste and smelled faintly metallic.
Next came a wool cap, pulled down over her hair, and leather gloves lined with wool. Finally, they put on the blue glasses.
“Everything looks odd,” Cora said, blinking as she turned this way and that.
“The sky is purple, snow blue, and the rocks black,” Winston agreed.
“But you can tell which is which,” Nathan pointed out.
He was right. It was far easier to see the knobs of rock here and there, sticking up like islands in the sea of snow. And she didn’t relish the idea of going blind, even for a short time.
Once more they set out, but crossing the snow was like walking over hardened ocean waves, up mounds and down into valleys. Nathan moved beside her now, safeguarding every step. Waldo did the same for Winston. The air seemed too thin, too sharp. She could not get enough. Their stops became frequent.
At one point, he put his hand on hers and planted her alpenstock into the snow. Then he nodded behind her. “Look.”
Cautiously, she and Winston turned.
“More mountains!” she cried.
He pointed past her, arm around her body. “That’s Mount St. Helens closest to us, Mount Adams behind her. And there, that pointier one in the distance—that’s Mount Hood.”
The grandeur was almost enough to forget his body was so close to hers. Breath seemed even more difficult. It must have been the altitude.
“Has anyone climbed them all?” Winston asked, voice awed.
“Not that I’ve heard,” he said. “But they will. The desire is too great.”
She felt it tugging too. To rise so high, to vanquish such beasts. The air would be rarified indeed.
As they started up again, her legs felt heavier with each step, the pack a boulder on her back. She concentrated on keeping moving, keeping breathing. Beside her, Winston did the same. Cora glanced his way from time to time. His wrinkled face was whiter than the snow, and she could not like the way he clung to his alpenstock.
It seemed like forever before Nathan stopped again, this time pointing upward. “There’s Camp Muir.”
She squinted but only saw a ridge of rock ahead.
It seemed so close, but they kept climbing and climbing. The sun moved farther to the west, and they hadn’t reached the ridge. It was flatter here, easier going for a while, but none of them seemed to be able to gasp in enough air for conversation. Nathan planted his feet in the snow, each stride determined.
The last half mile was the worst. They scrambled up and up, until all she could see was snow, endless snow. Her hand was stiff on the alpenstock, as if it had frozen in place. Her skin felt like sand under the paint. Her shoes were so crusted they looked like snowballs.
Nathan stomped his feet as they came out onto rock once more, and the snow fell off in clumps. Cora and the others copied him. Ice broke off the hems of her bloomers.
“Welcome to Camp Muir,” he said.
Winston’s cracked lips moved silently, as if in a prayer of thanks.
Cora glanced around at the jumble of rock. “This is Camp Muir?”
A narrow wedge of basalt slabs stretched across the snowfield, a slash of black against the white. In the distance, a towering mass of rock rose far too high. Was that the summit?
“This is Camp Muir,” Nathan assured her, easing off his pack. “Named for the famous naturalist who reached the summit in 1888 and spent the night here. Waldo, look for the easiest spot to set up camp.”
His partner wheeled away over the slabs, the only one with unlimited energy, it seemed.
Winston sank to the ground, and Cora settled beside him. The straps of her pack felt as if they’d embedded themselves in her shoulders. Pain stung as she tried to tug them free.
“Let me,” Nathan said, reaching out.
She sucked in a breath as he lifted the weight away, and cold filled her lungs.
He frowned as he set it aside. “Your pack wasn’t that heavy when I checked it in camp.”
Winston frowned as well.
She shrugged her shoulders, willing them to relax. “I took a few things from Winston, to balance the load.”
“So, you put yourself at risk for injury,” Nathan said, voice hardening.
“Dearest,” Winston chided. “I’m fine.” He stopped to hack a cough.
Cora patted his back, but he
r gaze was on Nathan. “I wasn’t the one dodging boulders on the rockslide. You put yourself at risk for me.”
As if he didn’t like the reminder, he grimaced and rubbed his left leg. “That’s what you pay me for.”
“That is most assuredly not what I pay you for, sir,” she informed him. “I cannot like any of us taking undue risks.”
“I’ll remember that,” he promised. He motioned to the island of rock. “You can see stretches where the basalt has been moved aside to leave pumice. There’s sand under it, much softer than last night. That’s where we’ll spread the bedrolls. Waldo and I have kindling in our packs, enough for a small fire tonight and in the morning. We can stretch the tent canvas over the top of the rocks for a shelter. For the moment, we need more water.”
She glanced around again. “There’s a spring up here?”
“No,” he said. “Take your cup and mine, and gather snow to melt. Stay where you can see me.”
Winston tried to rise. “I’ll help.”
Nathan put a hand on his shoulder. “I need you here. I’d like to verify our location before the light fades, and you’ll be the quickest to calculate the adjustment to the compass reading.”
He knew exactly where they were. This was clearly another ruse to make things easier on her stepfather. Cora cast Nathan a grateful look before locating her compass and handing it to Winston.
Waldo came back to point them to their campsite, and they set to work. Nathan moved rocks while Waldo pulled the camping supplies from the backpacks, and Cora ventured out onto the upper snowfield. The snow was more folded here, as if great forces conspired to shove it down the mountain. The wind raced over the white, tugging at her as if determined to shove her down too. She crouched and scraped the cups against the ice, the movement surprisingly hard, until she had filled the cups with sparkling white.
Rising, she looked up, toward the summit, a hump above them. Still nearly five thousand feet to go, from what Nathan had said. Exhilaration vied with exhaustion. Oh, for more strength!