I nodded.
Snow trotted from the tent, passing us, and only stopping to glance at Flynn. He nodded to her and she bounded off into the trees with her tail high in the air.
Her warmth served a much-needed heater when darkness fell these last few days. Unfortunately, with the heat came the tickling fur that woke me several times every night.
She meant well by obeying Flynn’s request to stay at my side, but I think we both tired of our forced time together as I often caught her eyes drifting toward the distant trees.
“Where did you find her?” My eyes stayed on Snow as we both watched her disappear.
“Don’t think I found her, I think she found me,” he shrugged. “I ran into a blizzard two winters ago. Nearly out of supplies and completely lost in the blinding snow. Luckily, I found a hollowed out tree trunk and used it for shelter.”
“Oh my.”
“When I woke up the next morning, snuggled up next to me under all my blankets was a little white and gray fur ball the size of my hands fisted together.” He laughed as his hands moved—showing me the size of the pup that now was a huge wolf.
“I walked around for days trying to find her pack, but I never found them. Not even their tracks in the snow. It was like she just appeared out of thin air. I don’t know which one of us saved the other.”
“Sounds like you both helped each other.”
“Perhaps.” He shrugged his shoulders again and handed me a cup of hot coffee. “Looks like we got a couple more feet of snow last night. I’d like to push through to Lake Lunderman before we set up camp again, but the lake is several miles from here. I’m worried we won’t make the distance today.”
“We can leave as soon as we finish breakfast. I can pack up while you are cooking.”
“That’d help.”
I brushed the snow from the back of my pants, slightly annoyed with myself for my offer. The desire to sit by the fire, drink some hot coffee, and do absolutely nothing physical, even if it was only for a short time, seriously outweighed the desire to pack.
I grumbled as I stomped into the tent and began collecting supplies. Folding blankets with cold hands was hard and far from enjoyable. Even with my gloves, my fingers were cold through to the bone with a chill not believed possible.
By the time the small room was packed, the scent of bacon made my stomach growl. Flynn had a plate full of food waiting for me on the log. It looked delicious, but more importantly, it looked hot. He poured me another cup of coffee as I sat down and dug into my food—finishing the last bite within minutes.
“Hungry?” he laughed.
“Quite.”
“I can make some more if yeh like.”
“No, I’m all right.”
He threw my empty plate into the sudsy bucket along with his own. “Just make sure yeh keep plenty of dried beef in your pack. Eat a few pieces every hour.”
I nodded and propped my feet up on a rock near the fire. My shoulders hunched over and my mood deflated with the dread of leaving.
Even with less than fifty miles to go, the never ending trip weighed heavy—another day trekking through bitter cold snow, another day living off rations of food, another day full of fear over a possible fall, avalanche, or animal attack.
The chores I hoped would take minutes, took only seconds as Flynn cleaned the pans, plates, utensils, and then our coffee cups.
His determination to leave as quickly as possible apparent, and before I comprehended the hustle and bustle around me, he scooped up handfuls of snow and threw it on the fire, extinguishing the flames.
The sound of the sizzle made me want to cry—missing the heat just mere seconds after it was gone. I just stood by the fire pit, my feet rooted in the spot and too heavy to move.
What I wouldn’t give for the comforts of a home in this very moment.
Flynn grabbed my waist, wrapping his arms around me, and gave me a soft kiss, stroking my cheek with his gloved hand.
“We don’t have far to go after we reach Lake Lunderman. I promise I will build you the biggest, warmest fire, and let you sleep as many days as you wish once we arrive in Dawson City.”
“Thank you.”
Mile after mile, hour after hour, we fought through deep snow and difficult terrain. The sun arched over the sky and finally set—our pace slower than Flynn liked.
Instead of setting up camp for the night, we chose to push on throughout the darkness of night, stopping only to eat a meal. My toes felt like ice in my wet boots, and even the three flannel shirts and a heavy fur coat Payuk gave me didn’t keep the cold wind from chilling me through to my bones.
We finally reached Lake Lunderman as the sun began to set the next day. A day behind schedule, a day lost, and more exhausted than I’d ever been.
Just over the majestic peak of one mountain range, the lake glimmered with the reflections of the purple, pink, and blue sunset, shinning a dark blue color amongst the white snow covered treetops and gray boulders.
White ice lined the banks of the lake, stretching out toward the middle, like fingers trying to grasp at something it couldn’t touch. Even in the bitter cold of winter, the lake was too deep to freeze solid.
“Another mile or two and then we will set up camp, all right?”
Although, saying no crossed my mind, I nodded, and we continued down the mountainside with the excitement of camp, a hot meal, and a night’s sleep spurring our pace.
As we neared the bottom of the mountain, Flynn held out his arm to stop me, and I caught my breath as he readied the pistol holstered on his belt.
A couple stood just off the trail on the river bank, then knelt down in the snow with their arms around one another. In front of them lay a coffin made of pinewood and was no longer than a foot or two in size.
“It’s nothing. Let’s get going.” Flynn muttered.
As the father prayed, the mother sobbed and flung herself on top of the tiny box. My heart broke for her loss, and I took a few steps toward them. Flynn stopped me, though, grabbing my arm and pulled me away.
“That’s none of our business,” he whispered.
“Surely we can offer our prayers.”
“Our prayers won’t matter.”
“I don’t believe that. Knowing you are in the thoughts of others can—”
“Our prayers don’t matter, Cora,” he snapped.
“And how would you know?” I said as he dragged me away from the scene. “How can you be so bold as to assume prayers wouldn’t be wanted by parents who have lost their child?”
“I know more than yeh think I do about it.” Anger and misery filled his eyes, drowning him in a pain that seemed to haunt him, and had for quite some time.
“Flynn, did . . . did someone you know—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” The growl in his voice told me to drop the subject and not dare to broach it again.
“Excuse me? Hello!” the man shouted at us.
Flynn’s shoulders hunched and he groaned under his breath. I turned toward the couple, and waved to the man who’d just called for our attention.
“Can you help us?” the man waved us over.
Flynn gritted his teeth as I glanced over my shoulder at him and then walked toward the couple. He followed behind me, though he didn’t want to, leading the horses behind him.
“Thank you so much,” the man half smiled as we approached. “I . . . I need to dig . . . the ground is quite frozen and . . . ”
As his words trailed off, Flynn tied the horses and withdrew the shovel from the supplies. The man bit his tongue and nodded, sincere appreciation flickered in his eyes.
I knelt down by the man’s wife. She gave me a sideways glance, but didn’t utter a word. Her face was red and puffy from her sobs, and her eyes we
re hollow—devoid of any emotion other than devastating sorrow. None of us spoke a single word.
Covered in ice and snow the ground resisted the hard steal as the men struggled to dig through the solid earth. Sweat dripped from both of their foreheads as they worked.
For the first time, an emptiness filled Flynn’s eyes. Lifeless, emotionless, he heaved dirt and rock without thought or care. He disconnected from all around him, withdrawing in a way I’d never seen.
After another hour, the hole was finally large enough, and the man approached his wife. Hesitantly, he knelt in front of her and I rose to my feet and backed away from their private moment.
“It’s time, dear,” he whispered.
“No,” she sobbed. “No, I’m not ready. I’m not ready to say good-bye to her.”
I glanced at Flynn. He closed his eyes and blew out a deep breath. I reached for his hand and entwined my fingers in his. He held my grasp for a second, then released it without looking at me. The man stood and faced us as his wife lay over the casket once more.
“Thank you for your help. It was much appreciated.”
“Is there anything else we can do?” I asked.
“No, no. I can manage from here.”
Flynn strode away, leaving without saying a single word. I watched him for a moment, before turning my attention toward the couple one last time.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
The man nodded, but the woman ignored me.
I hurried after Flynn. Catching him as he cinched the rope tight around the wooden shovel handle—repacking it on the horse’s back.
“It was the right thing to do.” I murmured.
Without looking at me, he seized the lead lines and jerked the horses to follow him.
Snow glanced up at me, growled, and trotted off after him—her lecture definitely more intimidating than his unspoken one, and I followed them, growling a little myself under my breath.
One hour of silence turned into another, and then another, until darkness began to fall and Flynn stopped to set up camp.
I helped where I could, but his angered growls told me to keep my distance. As soon as our tent stood amongst the trees, I retreated to my little place of solace in between the canvas walls.
As Flynn continued to set up camp, I toyed with the thought of retiring without dinner—a thought that seemed more like a good idea with every passing minute of Flynn’s bad mood.
My stomach growled. Drat. I inhaled a deep breath and left the protection of the tent.
Flynn stomped around the campsite, grabbing random pots and food supplies, only to realize he didn’t need what he had grabbed.
“Can I help you with anything?” I raised my voice over the cuss words he shouted.
“I don’t need any help from the likes of yeh,” he barked.
“You don’t have to be rude about it,” I snapped. “I was only offering help.”
Flynn turned to face me with a pan in his hand. He raised it up and growled under his breath. “I said, I don’t need any help.”
“Why are you acting so mean?”
He cussed again, then threw the pan onto the fire. Ashes puffed in the air and slowly drifted away as he threw a few frozen sausages in the skillet. I stepped away from him as he turned to face me, but my fear toward him vanished when I saw his expression.
Finally giving in to his own defeat, he sat on a log near the fire. His lungs heaved, the anger in his eyes turned to shame and sadness, and he buried his face in his hands.
I sat next to him, and touched his shoulder. “What is wrong?”
“Cora, I need to tell yeh something.”
My heart raced with the seriousness behind his voice.
“That’s the second tiny coffin I’ve seen in my life,” he whispered. “The first one belonged to my son.”
Had even a gentle breeze blown through the campsite in that moment, it would have knocked me off the log. My lungs struggled for breath, punched by an invisible force.
“Who . . . who . . . whose?” I stuttered on the only word that I could manage to utter.
His eyes met mine—red, sad, and full of tears that could fall down his cheeks at any second. “My son.”
I thought of standing and walking away. Just to get away, even for a single moment to collect the thoughts swirling through my head and making me dizzy.
But, not only could I not stand, I was quite certain if I tried to walk, my legs would buckle.
I couldn’t find any words to say. Surely, I had questions, and things I wanted to say, but actually forming the sentences proved far too difficult.
The coffee pot hanging over the fire began bubbling. Flynn stood and left my side, retrieving two mugs from the sled. He poured coffee into both mugs, then handed me one of the steaming cups. My hands trembled so much, coffee spilled in the snow and on the toe of my boot.
“I’m sorry I got angry with yeh,” he said, sitting back down beside me. “I didn’t mean to, really I didn’t. Seeing those people, and the coffin just—”
“It’s all right, Flynn.”
“No, it’s not all right. No matter what’s going on around us, I should never treat yeh that way.”
“Everyone is allowed moments of stupidity,” I mocked, brushing my shoulder into his—hoping to ease the tension for not only his sake, but mine. “I know I’ve had plenty.”
He half smiled and sipped his coffee. “I suppose you’re right.”
The fire crackled at our feet, warming my toes through my boots. My stomach growled, loud enough this time that Flynn heard the rumbling. He retrieved a couple of twigs and began cutting the tips to a point with his knife.
I waited a few minutes for him to continue the story of his past, or at least to say anything at all, but he didn’t say a word.
I desperately wanted to ask the questions lurking throughout all parts of my mind. Every time I thought of something to say, however, my lips wouldn’t move—his secret so vast it simply proved too much.
Once the twigs had pointed ends, Flynn retrieved a few thawed sausages from the pan and pressed them on the sticks, propping them above the fire to brown. He paused, looked deep into my eyes, took another couple of sips from his coffee, and heaved a deep sigh.
“After he was born, he got real sick. None of the doctors that checked him could figure out what was wrong with him—his symptoms weren’t like anything they’d seen before.”
“That must have been hard to cope with.”
“Each Doctor had a different theory, of course, but none of them ever seemed to fit his symptoms. So they just kept treating him, giving him dose after dose of that awful poison, laudanum.” He paused, collecting his composure. “He was only a couple of weeks old and died in my arms.”
We sat in silence, and I stared at the fire—unable to comprehend anything other than the orange and red flames. One last question rested on the tip of my tongue. A question I didn’t want to ask, and yet, one that couldn’t be ignored.
“And, his mother?” I whispered.
He didn’t look at me, but nodded for a few seconds as though he expected those exact words out of my mouth.
“My wife.” He rolled his shoulders and twisted his neck from side to side, stretching. “She died giving birth to him. She didn’t live long enough to see him, or to hold him.”
Once again, I wanted to stand and walk away more than anything in the world, and yet, my legs were broken—so broken that surely I would crumble to the ground if I attempted to stand.
“I’m so sorry,” I finally whispered.
He shrugged his shoulders and pulled the sausages from the fire.
“It was a long time ago. We were very young, and I think we were together only because of our situation. Not that I didn’t l
ove her, I did very much. She was a very kind, loving young woman. I just thought, sometimes, I was more of a mistake than a husband.” His chin jutted, resembling a slight frown. “Perhaps, I was. I don’t know.”
“You’re still young.” I pinched my arm in horror over my choice of words.
What kind of a statement was that? I couldn’t have picked a worse thing to say.
“We were very young—young and foolish for not thinking before we acted and defying our families.”
“I’m well aware of the need to defy a parent.”
“She shouldn’t have died, though. It should’ve been me. Everyone said so, including me. It was all my fault. Had I not . . . had I chosen to not . . . had I just chosen differently that night we’d made love, we wouldn’t have ended up in our situation.”
“But, you didn’t force her into your bed.”
“No, I didn’t.” He shook his head.
“Flynn, what happened wasn’t your fault. Sometimes, things just happen the way they do for reasons beyond our control.”
He nodded. “She would’ve been a good mother. Probably would have killed her to hold him while he died. That was my only solace. Knowing she didn’t have to face burying her son or seeing him suffer as he withered away a little more every day.”
He wiped his eyes with his gloved hand and shook his head, stared at the fire a few seconds, then glanced at me with a hint of a smile. “That’s all my past, though, and I kinda like the look of my future.”
I leaned into him and rested my head on his shoulder. “For once, I can finally agree with that statement.”
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