Where Heaven Begins

by Rosanne Bittner

  When her mind began to clear, the first thing Elizabeth heard was Clint growling at God for letting this happen after she’d prayed for a safe climb.

  “Clint, stop it!” she mumbled. “Please…don’t blame God!”

  “So much for prayer!” he answered. “You’ve got a swelling bruise on the side of your face with a cut to boot!”

  “I’m all right. I just…got knocked a little silly for a minute.”

  “You could have been killed! Do you know what my life would be like if something happened to you now? Do you have any idea?”

  “Clint!” She spoke louder this time, everything becoming more clear. She looked into his blue eyes and, if not for the seriousness of what had just happened and what she knew he’d already suffered in his life, she could have laughed at the look of a lost little boy in his eyes. “Clint, Jesus said that if we had the faith of just one tiny mustard seed we could move mountains. That’s just an example of what little faith most of us have.”

  He closed his eyes and held her close. “We’re going back down.”

  “No, we aren’t! I already asked if you wanted to wait and you refused. We’ve started this climb, and we’re going to reach the peak and get partway down the other side by nightfall. If we manage this, Clint, we’ll know we can make it the rest of the way. Please! I don’t even want to have to reclimb what little bit we’ve already reached.”

  He sighed in resignation, picking up some snow and applying it to the side of her face. Elizabeth winced with pain.

  “I think the cold will help keep it from swelling and bleeding as badly as it would otherwise,” Clint told her. He watched her lovingly. “I just hate the thought of anything ruining this beautiful face.”

  Elizabeth managed a smile. “I think I can go on now. What about the horses?”

  “I got someone to come down a ways and hold Devil for me. Red Lady is just standing there like she’s out in green fields someplace. I’d have her try to carry you for a ways, but if she should fall, it would probably kill you.”

  Elizabeth sat up slightly. “The other horse? The one that fell?”

  “He’s down at the bottom, not moving. The owner scrambled down to see.”

  “He’s dead!” someone shouted from above them. “Broken neck!”

  Clint looked up, then back at Elizabeth. “They’re talking about the man the horse rolled over.”

  “Oh, no! What will they do? He can’t be buried up here. They could never dig deep enough through the snow.”

  “That’s up to his party,” Clint told her. “Fact is, they’ll probably just leave him.”

  “Clint, no!”

  “There is nothing else they can do. Others have been left. Don’t argue about it or expect me to do something about it. His soul is with God, so what does it matter about the body? With the weight of what has to be carried, it would be impossible for any of those men to drag his body along with them, and don’t ask me to do it, Elizabeth. We’ll be lucky to get up there with what we have. Surely God understands that much.”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes. “I won’t argue, mainly because I don’t want the same thing to happen to you. How could I ever forget something so horrible as having to leave you on this mountain to be eaten by wolves.”

  She heard a strange gasp, and immediately she sensed a change in Clint, who stood up and turned around.

  “Clint, is that what happened?”

  He threw back his head. “That’s just how it ended,” he groaned. “My wife…my little boy…just left out there to the wolves.” He shook his head. “And you’re right. You never…ever…forget.”

  Elizabeth stood up, her cheek bone throbbing. “Jesus can help you forget, Clint…and forgive.”

  He took several long, deep breaths without speaking or looking at her.

  “Hey, mister, I’ve got to get going!”

  Clint looked up at the man holding Devil and Red Lady. “I’m coming!” he shouted back.

  “Your woman all right?”

  “I think so!”

  Clint quickly wiped at his eyes with a gloved hand. “Are you sure you want to keep going?” he asked Elizabeth, still not facing her.

  “Yes. I think I can get my legs to work again.”

  “Just don’t pass out on me,” he answered. “This time I’ll lead both horses, at least for the next several hundred yards.” He finally faced her with unreadable but bloodshot eyes. “You hang on to Red Lady’s tail. That should help a lot with your climb. Let her do some of the work.”

  “Won’t it be too hard on her?”

  “Not as hard or as dangerous as carrying you would be, even though you don’t weigh more than a sack of beans. With you contributing some of the power by walking, it won’t be the same as carrying your full weight.” He took a closer look at her cheek, frowning with concern. “You took quite a wallop.” He pulled her scarf back over her nose. “Keep that nose covered. I’d hate to see you get frostbite on top of everything else.”

  He climbed back up to the horses and took them from the man who’d held them for him. Elizabeth did as he’d asked and grabbed Red Lady’s tail. Again they started climbing. Elizabeth’s thigh muscles stung like fire, and her cheek ached fiercely, but she was determined not to say a word. They absolutely had to get this climb over with, and she had to keep going. She kept reminding herself that on the other side of this pass lay the Yukon River and their route to Dawson and Peter, and the final answers to Clint’s road back to salvation. Then—with God’s blessing—she’d be married to the first man who’d come along in her life to make her want to share her life with him.

  At least he’s told me part of the horror that haunts him, she thought. So far this was the most he’d ever spoken about what had happened to his wife and son. It was a step in the right direction, but the picture in her mind told her a lot about the reason for Clint’s bitterness. It was a wonder the man had any sanity left to him at all.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  For the Lord God is a sun and shield: the Lord will give grace and glory: no good thing will He withhold from them that walk uprightly. O Lord of hosts, blessed is the man that trusteth in Thee.

  —Psalms 84:11

  Throughout their struggle, Clint and Elizabeth passed other dead bodies, both of men and horses. Clint knew the sights were difficult for Elizabeth, but she was learning she couldn’t stop and nurse, or preach to, or bury or lend other aid to every soul she met. Just as he still had issues to deal with when it came to his faith in God, Elizabeth needed to understand that God expected only so much of one human being.

  Right now he felt he was himself just about past his own limits, both physically and emotionally. They were a good three-quarters of the way up the pass now…so close and yet so far. By God’s miracle the horses were still climbing with them. Devil had even calmed down. Both, however, were breathing heavily and sweating profusely. He feared that sweat would freeze on the animals and kill them once they stopped moving.

  Higher, ever higher. He couldn’t stop thinking about the horror of seeing that horse kick Liz and knock her down. The risk he was taking in falling in love again had instantly hit him. If he lost yet another woman he loved…

  She’s all right, he reminded himself. He had to stop constantly fearing the worst. That’s where faith came in. If only he could have the faith of that tiny mustard seed, maybe he could rest easier, allow himself to be happy. But his anguish over Jen and Ethan continued to haunt him.

  He fell to his knees, got up again, thinking how this climb seemed to emulate his own struggle to find peace in his life…constantly falling and getting up again. Every time he found and either killed or took in another wanted killer, he thought he might finally find peace, sure that each man he hunted down would bring an answer to his fierce need for revenge.

  He looked back to see Liz climbing on her own now, giving Red Lady a break. What a trouper she was, not just in climbing this mountain, but in sticking to her guns in her efforts to bring hi
m back to God. She was young, but she sure wasn’t stupid or weak or silly. In a lot of ways she was surprisingly mature, and dang stubborn. Lord knew, when it came to getting through to his heart, it took a woman like that. She’d knocked a hole in the wall he’d built around himself that no one else, certainly no whore or normal decent woman had been able to penetrate.

  “Clint, we’re almost there!” Elizabeth shouted, interrupting his thoughts.

  Clint looked up. There was the peak, perhaps another half hour’s climb! The sight seemed to pump more blood into his legs so he could keep going. His lungs burned like fire, and he could barely feel his feet any longer. The horses snorted and panted, bolting ahead slightly as though they, too, realized they were almost over the mountain.

  “Get up there!” Clint shouted. He turned to yell back to Elizabeth. “Grab Red’s tail again!”

  She pushed ahead and managed to get hold of the horse’s tail. She was smiling. Lord, she had to be hurting bad by now, what with that swollen bruise on her cheek and the way her legs must feel. He’d already determined they would camp for a good two days on the other side before heading for Lake Bennett, where they would have a raft built to take them upriver to Dawson.

  He could hear some men who’d reached the top shouting and laughing with relief. It was nearing dark. By the time they reached the top it would be completely dark. He’d hoped to get at least partway down the other side before making camp. The higher they went, the colder it got, and another overnight snowstorm could bury them for good up there.

  His chest ached fiercely now, and a surge of coughing hit him, but he refused to stop climbing as he coughed. His whole body felt on fire, and he didn’t doubt Liz felt the same way. If it weren’t for having to guide the horses, he’d carry her on his back. He’d do just about anything for her…anything.

  Suddenly even the horses sped up, half dragging both Clint and Liz, who screamed and laughed until they reached the peak. Devil and Red kept going, snow flying. Liz fell, and unable to stop laughing, she let Red drag her for a ways, until finally Clint was able to pull and jerk and shout at the animals enough to stop them.

  “You all right?” he yelled to Liz. Her laughter exhilarated him. They had reached a much gentler slope, though still in deep snow, and she lay there on her back still laughing.

  “We made it!” she screamed. “We made it! Thank you, Jesus!” She started laughing again, and knowing the horses were surely exhausted enough not to go any farther, Clint let go of them to walk over and fall into the snow beside Liz. He grabbed her and rolled her over, looking down at her.

  “We sure did,” he answered. He leaned down to kiss her, and they rolled over twice more before he landed on top of her once again.

  “We’ll make it all the way, Clint,” she told him with a smile, her nose red and her cheek bruised.

  “I think you’re right,” he answered. He kissed her again, passion and desire overwhelming him. He left her mouth and nuzzled her neck.

  “Clint Brady, people can see us!”

  “We’re married, remember?”

  She pushed at him. “But we’re not married,” she told him with a teasing look. “And I will not let you tempt me this way until you are my husband.”

  He gave her a look of deep disappointment. “Then be prepared for a hard ride and an arduous trip upriver, because we’re going to make Dawson so fast it will make your pretty head spin. Your brother is a preacher, and he’s going to marry us.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Clint saw the sudden concern come into her green eyes. “Soon as Roland Fisher, God and I get a few things straightened out, because I’ve never wanted anything in my life as bad as I want you right now.”

  He kissed her once more, loving the taste of her, the way she responded to him with pure love and innocence. He realized then just how hard the rest of this trip was going to be on him, but her faith and goodness demanded that he honor her desire to save herself for marriage. Practically groaning with the want of her, he got up and grasped her hand, pulling her to her feet.

  “From now on you sleep inside and I sleep outside,” he told her with a wink.

  “Oh, we’re still too high! You’d freeze sleeping outside!” she objected. “And we’ll need to put blankets over the horses to keep the sweat from freezing on them. That will leave fewer blankets for us. We’ll have to sleep together just to stay warm enough.”

  “I hate to say it, but you’re right. Now you’re walking dangerous ground, Miss Breckenridge.”

  She cocked her head. “You’ll just have to pray for strength, Mr. Brady.” She turned to lead Red Lady to a flatter spot not far from where someone else was camped.

  “Gee, thanks. I’ll do that,” Clint answered. God knows keeping my hands off you will take more strength than it did to climb White Pass, he thought. His goals for reaching Dawson sure had changed. The innocent Miss Breckenridge had no inkling what it was like for a man to withhold from his desire for the woman he loved.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Hear my prayer, O Lord, give ear to my supplications: in thy faithfulness answer me, and in thy righteousness…. For the enemy hath persecuted my soul; he hath smitten my life down to the ground; he hath made me to dwell in darkness, as those that have been long dead. Therefore is my spirit overwhelmed within me; my heart within me is desolate.

  —Psalms 143:1, 3 & 4

  White Pass, September 4, 1898

  Elizabeth spent a good share of the afternoon catching up on her diary entries. Rather than camp just the other side of White Pass, she and Clint had slept just a few hours after reaching the summit, then traveled for half a day down the other side before making a permanent camp for some much-needed rest. Several other travelers were camped nearby.

  It is still cold enough that we remain fully clothed, wearing our jackets and hats even when we sleep inside the tent. Clint says we should make Lake Bennett after another day of travel, where we will see about having a raft built for us. There is a sawmill there now for just that purpose. My poor Clint is coughing badly again and I worry so that his pneumonia will return, which cannot be good for lungs still recovering from his first bout.

  She’d come to think of him as “her” Clint, with feelings of possessiveness becoming strong, as were feelings of desire she’d never known before meeting him. Right now he slept deeply…right beside her, worn out more than most because of his incessant coughing.

  She continued.

  Clint’s strength and determination is to be admired. In spite of the continued pain in his chest he has continued this journey in a fashion most healthy men could not.

  My face is healing, with the swelling gone down but an ugly bruise still showing. Some of those we pass look at me strangely and probably think my Clint beats me, something he would never do. Beneath all that roughness lies a good man who I know is searching for God and longing to be a husband and a father again.

  She leaned back against a sack of beans and closed her eyes. She was totally, hopelessly in love with Clint Brady. Before leaving San Francisco, she would not have dreamed this could happen. She so wished someone like her father could have talked to him, helped him through his terrible grief to the light of God. Maybe Peter could do that. She was trying herself, but maybe he just needed to talk to a man. She felt so helpless sometimes.

  Wolves howled somewhere in the distance, and Devil whinnied just outside the tent. Clint turned on his back, then sat up. “Everything all right?”

  “I think so. I heard wolves howling, but not close.”

  “I’d better check.” Clint picked up his rifle and ducked outside. Elizabeth heard him cough before coming back. “There’s a bright moon. It didn’t look like anything was lurking around out there.” He lay back down beside her and took a deep breath. “You writing in that diary again?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you writing about me?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I’m sure you can guess.”

/>   He stared at the top of the tent. “Yes.” He closed his eyes, and the air hung silent for a moment. “She was raped and murdered,” Clint said then.

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise. The man continually shocked her by blurting out important feelings at totally unexpected times. Her heartbeat quickened at the realization he was finally telling her something about his wife. She waited, afraid that one word might shut him up again.

  “She was only twenty-one. I was twenty-six. We’d gone into town for supplies, and I—I decided to go look at some horses for sale at the livery while she shopped and did the banking. Little Ethan was with her. He was—”

  Now the words came hard.

  “—only two years old…a blue-eyed, blond-haired, chubby-cheeked and happy little boy who knew only joy in life.” He cleared his throat. “While they were in the bank it was quietly robbed by four men with guns. No shots were fired, so no one realized what was going on. They rode off with Jen and Ethan, figuring that if they had a woman and child with them anyone who came after them would hesitate to shoot at them. If they had only used them for shields, it wouldn’t have been so bad. But once they decided they weren’t of use any longer, they…raped Jen…and shot her in the head. Even worse…they shot Ethan, too. I expect he was crying, and they didn’t like the noise. Who knows? I only know that if I’d gone to the bank with her…if I’d only gone with her…”

  “You probably would have been shot trying to help them, Clint.”

  “At least then I would have done something. Just some- thing. Until you have a child of your own, Liz, you’ll never understand how it felt to know my baby was out there somewhere crying over his mommy, wondering where his daddy was….” He rolled to his side, his back to her. “By the time we found them the deed was done…and wolves had torn at their bodies…my precious beautiful wife…and my sweet, innocent little boy.”