Worthy of Riches

by Bonnie Leon

  Ray saw his own ugliness and was sickened. He gazed at the dead grizzly and realized he'd been more a beast than the bear had been. The bear had acted out of instinct; he had no understanding of right and wrong. I knew what I was doing. I'm the one who should be dead.

  Ray turned his gaze to the man in his arms and wished he'd known him as a friend. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” He let loose of Will and buried his face in blood-stained hands.

  Gentle arms lifted him. “Come on, we need to get you to the doc,” Frank said. “We'll take you up on the litter.”

  “What about him?”

  “We'll get him out too.”

  “And his family? Who's going to tell them?”

  Frank didn't answer right away, then said, “I will. I'll tell them.”

  “I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't mean for it to happen.”

  “It's not your fault. We never know what lies ahead of us when we're out here. That's the way it is. Nothing to be done about it. It's over.”

  Chapter 9

  CELESTE HUNKERED DOWN IN THE SEAT AND SNUFFLED INTO A HANDKERCHIEF while Frank helped Ray into the pickup.

  “I'm gonna need a hand here,” Frank said.

  “Oh.” Celeste gently cradled her father's casted leg and settled it on the seat. Leaving her hand on the heavy cast, she glanced at her father but said nothing before sitting back.

  Frank set a pair of crutches in the pickup bed, then hurried around and climbed in. Pushing in the clutch, he turned the key and the engine fired. Glancing at Ray, he shifted into first. “You don't have to do this, you know.”

  “Yes I do,” Ray said, his voice weary.

  Celeste dabbed at her eyes. “Thank you for driving us, Frank. I just don't think I could manage.”

  “Glad to help.” Frank eased the pickup forward, pulled onto the road, and headed toward the Haspers. His brow furrowed, he gripped the steering wheel. “I don't know what you can say, Ray. Nothing'll fix what's happened.”

  Biting her lip, Celeste grasped her father's hand.

  “I have to be the one. I have to tell them…” His voice broke, and he tried again. “I have to tell them how sorry I am.” He could already envision the agony on Jean's face when she heard. Oh, Lord, he nearly groaned out loud. Pressing his hands against his face, he wished it were a nightmare and he'd wake up. This was his fault.

  He ran his hands through his hair and stared at distant hills. It had happened up there. The heavy forests framed by snow-covered mountains looked peaceful, but they lied. Death had been waiting.

  Ray turned his gaze to the road disappearing beneath the front of the pickup. His head throbbed and his stomach churned. His aching leg reminded him of the hideous scene. He tried to shut it out, but it persisted. He'd never erase Will Hasper's death from his mind.

  What would he say to Jean Hasper? How could he tell her that her husband was dead? Sweat beaded up on Ray's face, and he thought he might be sick. He gripped the door handle. Will Hasper's death was his fault. How could he tell her that?

  God, forgive me. I'm sorry. If only I had understood, maybe none of this would have happened. The truck bumped through a puddle, and Ray winced, letting out a moan.

  “Daddy, you're hurting. You need to send someone else. You should be in bed with that leg up.”

  “I'm fine.”

  “She's right. You ought to be at home. I'll tell them.” Frank slowed. “I can turn this truck around right now.”

  “No.”

  “Daddy, please. Listen to Frank.” Celeste's eyes refilled, and she choked back a sob. “This isn't your responsibility.” With that, Celeste started weeping again. “I can't believe he's dead. I just can't believe it.”

  “Frank, stop the truck,” Ray said.

  Frank pulled to the side of the road and turned off the engine.

  “Give us a minute.” Ray opened the door and gingerly eased himself out. Standing on his good leg, he grabbed the crutches out of the back.

  Celeste followed. “What do you want? You shouldn't be doing that. Get back in the truck.”

  “No. I need the air.” Ray hitched his way to a log and sat down. “Sit,” he said, patting the rough bark beside him.

  Celeste did as she was told. Her hands pressed between her knees, she stared at the ground.

  Ray circled an arm around her shoulders. “This is bad. Real bad. I don't know how we're going to get through it, but we will… somehow.” He squeezed her gently. “I wish I could make it all go away, but I can't.”

  Celeste leaned against his arm. “I know. I just can't believe he's dead. He was a wonderful man. You would have liked him.”

  “I know that now.” Ray's eyes filled, and he wiped at them.

  “Every time I think about Mrs. Hasper and Laurel and Luke, Brian, and Susie …” She started to cry again. “I remember how it was when Mom died.”

  “She was the best.” Ray let out a shaky breath. “I let you down and everyone else. Ever since she died … well, I've been plain mad. I took out my hurt on the people around me. I'm sorry.”

  “Daddy…”

  “No. Let me say this. I don't understand it all just yet, but I'm beginning to make some sense of it.” He rubbed his hand on his thigh. “When your mother died, I wanted to die. There was a big hole where she used to be. And her death was my fault.”

  “You…”

  He raised a hand. “Let me finish. Your mother didn't want to come to Alaska. It was me. It was my dream, and she loved me, so she came.”

  “Mom was happy. We all were.”

  “I know, but I could have made sure she was in a safe place when your baby brother was born. Instead, we were out here—in the middle of nowhere. If we'd been near a doctor or a hospital, it could have been different.” He swallowed hard and blinked back tears. “I hated God for letting it happen, then I hated myself, and eventually I hated everyone.” He looked at Celeste tenderly. “Except you, of course.” He took a shuddering breath. “I don't know why things happen the way they do. I wish I'd turned to God instead of hanging on to the bitterness.” He shook his head. “Now this. Will Hasper's dead, and it's my fault.”

  “It's not your fault.”

  “It is.”

  “You act as if you're the one who killed him. It was the bear.”

  “Oh, the bear killed him all right, but if I'd treated him decently, he might not have felt like he had to come along. And when he did, I should have made sure he had a partner to hunt with. The rest of us went off and left him.”

  “Mr. Hasper would have gone along no matter what.” Fresh tears filled her eyes. “And if he'd stayed home, you'd be dead.”

  “That would be more fitting. He was a better man.”

  Celeste took her father's face in her hands and made him look at her. “No. He was just a man—good yes, but not better.”

  “I did some things you don't know about. I wish you wouldn't have to know, but… pretty soon everyone will.”

  “What things?”

  “I'm not ready to talk about them just yet.” He took Celeste's hands in his. “I'm sorry, honey. I'm sorry to bring shame on you.”

  “I could never be ashamed of you.”

  Ray managed a small smile and pulled his daughter into his arms. “You are so much like your mother. She was always quick to forgive. I should have been more like her.” He pushed himself to his feet and leaned on his crutches. With a heavy sigh, he said, “Well, I've got something to do, and I'd better get to it.”

  Jean heard a truck pull up to the house. He's home, she thought and quickly set a rising loaf of bread in the oven warmer and walked to the door. Will had been gone longer than he'd expected. “It's about time,” she said, opening the back door and stepping out on the porch.

  But it wasn't Will. It was Frank Reed, Ray Townsend, and Celeste. Jean immediately knew that something was wrong. She pressed a hand against her stomach and stared at the truck as she went down the steps. Mr. Townsend slid out, then Celeste. Ray Towns
end had a cast on his leg. Father and daughter both looked desolate. Celeste's eyes and nose were red as if she'd been crying. Afraid, Jean stood still and waited.

  His face ashen, Ray hobbled on crutches toward her. Celeste stayed at his side, careful not to look at Jean.

  Lord, what is this?

  When Ray was about a yard away, he stopped. Leaning on the crutches, he stared at the ground, then looked at Jean.

  Jean braced herself.

  “Mrs. Hasper … I … I've always been a direct man, but I don't know just how to say what I have to say.”

  “It's Will, isn't it? He's hurt.” She bunched up her apron and pressed it against her abdomen.

  His gray eyes meeting hers, he said, “It's worse.” He glanced at Luke, who stood in the doorway. Brian and Susie walked down the steps and stood beside their mother. Ray glanced at the children, then continued, “We were tracking that bear and split up into pairs. Figuring we'd have a better chance of cornering him, I sent my partner up on another ridge.” He paused a long moment. “Will was following me.” He leaned hard on the crutches. “I fell down a ravine and broke my leg.” He glanced at his bad leg. “Will was helping me when … when the bear came at us. We only had one rifle, and it was jammed.” His voice quavered, and he swallowed. “Well, ma'am, the bear got him.”

  The world tipped, and Jean thought she might fall. She managed to ask, “Is he alive?”

  “No, ma'am. I'm real sorry—real sorry.”

  Anguish swept over Jean. The strength went out of her legs, and she started to fall. “No,” she whispered.

  Celeste ran to her and held her, then carefully lowered Jean to the bottom step of the porch. She was crying. “I'm so sorry, Mrs. Hasper.”

  “What happened?” Luke demanded, storming down the steps. “It's your fault, isn't it? Tell me!”

  “Please, Luke, no,” Jean said. “Not now.”

  Luke glared at Ray Townsend, then stumbled back onto the porch. He stopped at the door, pressed his forehead against the frame, and wept.

  Brian stepped up to Ray. “You're lying. He's not dead! He promised me he'd be all right!” When Ray didn't answer, Brian turned and walked to his mother. “Daddy's all right, isn't he?”

  Jean scooped the little boy into her arms. After a few moments she held him away from her, and looking into his frightened eyes, she said softly, “Daddy's gone to heaven.”

  His eyes filling with tears and his chin quivering, Brian shook his head no.

  Susie joined her brother. “Daddy?” She started to cry, and Luke picked her up.

  “Here, give her to me,” Jean said and took the little girl. She set Susie on her free leg and held her two youngest close.

  His eyes hard and jaw set, Luke jumped off the porch and stormed toward Ray Townsend. “How did it happen?”

  “Daddy was hurt…” Celeste started.

  Ray lay a hand on his daughter's arm to quiet her. “I fell down an embankment and broke my leg. Your father came to help me. I lost my rifle in the fall, and your father's was jammed. When the bear came at us, we were helpless. Your father could have saved himself, but he wouldn't leave me. I told him to go.” Ray's gaze wandered to Luke's feet, then he looked into the young man's eyes. “It's my fault. When we split up, I let him go off on his own. Everyone spread out; we should have stayed close. That way, if someone needed help …” He stopped and shuffled his crutches. “I was in charge.” He looked at Jean huddled on the porch with her children. “I'm sorry. Real sorry.”

  “Sorry isn't good enough!” Luke exploded, lunging at the man and hitting him.

  Ray stumbled backward.

  “This is your fault! And you're going to pay!” He hit Ray again, clutching his collar. “You'll pay!”

  Celeste grabbed Luke. “Stop it! He didn't mean for anything to happen!”

  Frank hustled out of the truck and stepped between the two. Gripping Luke's arms, he pushed him back firmly. “Settle down. This ain't gonna' help.”

  Luke fought to get past him, but Frank kept a tight hold on the young man. Finally he stopped struggling. For a long while he glared at Ray, then the fight went out of him, and he dropped his arms. He started to weep, and with a lurching run, headed toward the fields.

  Leaning heavily on his crutches, Ray watched him. “I didn't mean for anything like this to happen.”

  Her voice hard, Jean said, “You better go.” Turning tormented eyes on Celeste, she asked, “Can you send Adam and Laurel over?”

  “Yes. Right away.” She hugged Jean, then broke down again.

  Jean held Celeste away from her, then without another word, picked up Susie, grasped Brian's hand, and walked into the house.

  With Susie in her arms, and supported by Laurel on one side and Luke on the other, Jean made her way to the gravesite. She stared at the plain wooden casket. How could his lifeless body lay in that box? How could he be dead?

  This is a nightmare. I'll wake up soon. She glanced around at family and friends. The minister stood at the head of the casket, his Bible in hand. Birds sang, the sun felt hot, and mosquitoes assaulted bare skin. This was real. Will was gone.

  An unbearable ache squeezed her chest and throat; tears burned her eyes. How will I live without him?

  Laurel tightened her arm around her mother. “It'll be all right, Mama,” she whispered.

  “No. It can never be all right.”

  A murmur moved through the mourners, and Jean looked up to see Ray Townsend and Celeste join the gathering.

  “What's he doing here?” Luke asked.

  “I don't know. I don't want trouble, so keep still. And I don't believe your father would mind him being here. He died for that man.”

  Luke didn't say any more, but he continued to glare at the intruder.

  The minister met Jean and the children. Taking her hand, he said, “You have my deepest sympathy, Mrs. Hasper. Will was a good man, one of the finest I've known. We'll all miss him.”

  Jean only nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  The minister returned to stand at the head of the casket. He scanned the people, and finally his eyes stopped on Jean and her children. “Our Lord is a God of comfort. He will not forsake you in your time of grief. Lean on him and he will sustain you.”

  He opened his Bible to a place he had marked. “Isaiah 41:10 says, 'Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.'” He lifted his eyes. “Grieving is a human emotion, and it is right and good for us to come together to mourn the loss of someone we love. Mrs. Hasper, I want you to know that we are all here to help you through your sorrow. You're not alone. Above all, remember it is God who upholds us all.”

  Heads nodded, and compassionate eyes sought out Jean and the children.

  “On behalf of the Hasper family, I want to thank you all for coming.” He paused. “We know the length of our lives is limited, that a day will come when each of us must face death. For some, life will be short, but all who belong to the Lord have an eternity in paradise waiting.” He glanced at his open Bible. “Three days ago Will Hasper faced his day of death and began his eternity. He would want us to rejoice.”

  The minister scanned the faces and smiled. “Will would be pleased to see so many of his friends and neighbors here. He loved you all.”

  Many cried openly while others fought their tears. The reverend read several passages, finishing with Psalm 23. His own eyes moist, he went on. “We've lost a good man, but Will Hasper will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. He's waiting for us.” He looked at Jean. “And those he's left can be assured that sorrow is only for a time. Joy will return.”

  He bowed his head and finished with a closing prayer. Then the choir broke out into a chorus of “Rock of Ages.” People joined in. Jean tried, but grief choked off the words.

  When the singing stopped, the minister looked out over the people. “Before we close, would a
nyone like to say something?”

  Surprisingly, Miram spoke up almost immediately. “I remember when we were on the boat.” She sniffled. “I thought we were sinking. Mr. Hasper was real kind to me, and he went right down to check to see what was wrong.” She blew her nose softly, then continued, “He's always been that way—kind and helpful. I'll never forget him.”

  Drew Prosser was the next to speak. “I've only known Will since we met on the train two years ago, but I realized right off he was a good man, someone who could be counted on. He's been a friend to me and my family. I'm grateful I had the chance to know him.”

  Struggling to keep his tears in check and holding Laurel's hand, Adam faced the people. “When I first started out with all of you, I was pretty obnoxious.” A flicker of a smile touched his lips. “Even so, Will Hasper treated me fairly and accepted me just as I was.” He wiped his nose with a handkerchief. “He was the only father I ever knew. I grew up in an orphanage, but he was my dad. I've never known a finer man.” He choked back a sob, and Laurel hugged him, crying softly.

  Several others spoke up, and then it was quiet. The minister said, “Let's pray.”

  “Wait a minute. I have something to say.” Ray Townsend stepped forward. “I know some of you don't think I belong here, and you're probably right, but I wanted to say good-bye to one of the finest men I've ever known.” He cleared his throat. “And I need to say something to all of you.” He gazed at the casket.

  “You all know that Will Hasper saved my life, but he did something I don't think most of you know. He showed me Christ, and he saved me from an eternity without God.” Tears washed into the big man's eyes. “He didn't have to stay with me. He could have left me and saved himself. Instead, he stood beside me and faced that bear with nothing but a club. I've never known anyone who gave his life for someone else, and especially not for an enemy.” He glanced at the minister. “I've been in church a lot of years, and I heard about Jesus Christ and about how he died for mankind, but I never really understood it. To me Jesus was just a symbol of goodness, someone from history.”