St. Elias

by Meris Lee

  “There are some. I shuttle people back and forth between McCarthy and Kennecott, which, by the way, is spelled with an e in the second syllabus when referring to the town, but with i when referring to the glacier. Don’t ask me why.”

  “Any other jobs?”

  “Why are you interested? You aren’t just passing through?”

  “No, I intend to stay in McCarthy for a few weeks.”

  “Why? There’s nothing in McCarthy.”

  “I want to get a job and save up for a trip to Yakutat and see Mt. St. Elias.”

  “You’re serious?”

  The Jeep ran over a large pothole and Elias was jolted from her seat, nearly bumping her head against the door.

  “You said your last name is Dotson?” asked Katy. “How do you spell it?”

  Elias gave it some thought before she replied. She was a fugitive and should reserve some personal details. “D-O-D-S-E-N.”

  “It’s close to the word for our cultural hero, the raven, which is dotson’, D-O-T-S-O-N, known for being an impulsive trickster who’s always getting in trouble for wanting to do good.”

  Elias reflected on that for a moment. Maybe she could blame her impulsiveness on her last name. “What do you mean by our?”

  “Our people,” said Katy. “I’m an Alaska Native.”

  Elias thought of Jack at the mention of Alaska Native. “Are there reservations in Alaska?”

  “We don’t have reservations in Alaska. We have villages that form corporations to make money by providing contracted work with the feds, the state, or private companies, and we as shareholders earn dividends from those incomes.”

  Elias didn’t understand the arrangement, but she nodded anyway.

  “Some Alaska Native corporations have very few people, and if they score a big contract, everyone makes good money,’ said Katy. “Others have a lot more people, and the money gets spread pretty thin. Our corporation’s shareholders each get a few hundred dollars a year.”

  “Is that good?” said Elias. She had never seen a few hundred dollars before.

  “I used it up in a few weeks.”

  “Oh…”

  “We used to roam all these lands, but now they’re partly owned by the feds, partly owned by the state, and partly owned by private companies and individuals, including both Alaska Natives and non-Natives. It’s a constant fight on who gets to use which land.”

  “So, is McCarthy an Alaska Native village?”

  “No, it’s just a regular mountain town.”

  “I can’t wait to see it.”

  “It takes only ten minutes to see the whole town,” said Katy. “It’s itty bitty, but it’s charming in some ways. I hope you won’t be disappointed.”

  Disappointed? This journey had been everything but a disappointment. Elias was certain McCarthy would be no exception, and she could barely contain her excitement in getting closer to her destination.

  »»•««

  At the end of the McCarthy Road, Katy parked the Jeep in the parking lot of a small resort called Glacier Cabins and signaled Elias to get out. She removed a duffel bag from the backseat and led Elias to an all-terrain vehicle. “We’re riding this ATV across the footbridge to McCarthy, over the Kennicott River. It’s illegal, but everyone does it.”

  Katy took the front seat and asked Elias to sit in the back and hold the duffel bag. The ATV thundered over the wire mesh footbridge, not much wider than the ATV itself. Elias looked over the railing and held her breath as she watched the menacing rapids of the Kennicott River rush down the valley beneath. After they crossed the river, Katy made a right turn and rode into the town of McCarthy. Elias felt like she was on a western movie set seeing the wood-sided buildings with tall, rectangular false fronts, and she was tickled when she saw the town saloon, amused such a thing still existed in the twenty-first century. It rained recently, and the thick clouds made everything look gray and gloomy. Puddles of all shapes and sizes seemed to have overtaken the muddy graveled street. It wasn’t long before they passed the general store and reached the edge of the town. Katy stopped the ATV in front of a one-story log cabin with a red door and an elevated porch.

  Elias followed Katy into the cabin and set the duffel bag on a futon by the door. She took in the musty air, eyed the small dining table with four mismatched chairs to her right, the kitchenette just beyond with a gas range, a sink, and a combined microwave-refrigerator. Katy showed her the bathroom in the back of the cabin, as well as the bedroom that barely contained two sets of twin bunk beds.

  “I have two roommates this summer,” said Katy. “If you don’t have a place to stay, you’re welcome to my last bed.” She tapped on a top bunk.

  Elias was amazed by the tiny living quarters. Her shack house back in her impoverished neighborhood in Fort Worth was larger than Katy’s cabin. Thinking of her family home reminded her of how worried Helen had to be, how sorry she was to have disappointed her stepmother again, and how much she missed the comforting smothered chicken…

  “Well? What do you say?” asked Katy, her hands on her hips.

  “I don’t have any money,” replied Elias.

  “That’s fine. You can pay me later. Speaking of jobs, what are you good at? My roommate Gina’s a music major at University of Washington, but she’s here working for a construction company that’s restoring a hiking trail inside the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. My other roommate, Shuping, who’s from Shanghai, cashiers at the general store.”

  “I was trained to cook,” said Elias. “I can cook for thirty, forty people at a time.”

  “Then you should go up to Kennecott and talk to Mr. Mason,” said Katy. “He’s the head chef at the hotel up there. I know he’s looking for a line cook.”

  “That’d be wonderful. Thanks.” Elias appreciated all the help from her new friend.

  Katy took her to the general store to grab lunch. Shuping had the day off and was out hiking. They sat down on the deck outside to eat their sandwiches and watch the tourists, all very young, sporting colorful jackets, walking in mucky boots, telling each other about the awesome trek or ice climbing they just did on the Kennicott Glacier. A few village children roamed on their bicycles along with a couple of dogs that seemed to consider the entire village their backyard. All in all, it was a sleepy town despite the boisterous energy of the tourists. According to her new friend, the population of McCarthy was somewhere between twenty-five and forty-five depending on the season, and most of them lived in poverty. Elias had a hard time believing there could be a town poorer than her neighborhood back home.

  “Don’t feel bad,” said Katy. “I went to this reservation in Montana once to visit a friend. That place is a whole lot worse because they don’t have tourists. A true third world country, right here inside the USA.”

  Elias couldn’t picture what that reservation might have looked like, and secretly she debated with herself whether it was foolish to run off to a place like McCarthy just to see a mountain with her name. She was also anxious Katy and her roommates might discover she was there illegally. Where would she run when the authorities came for her? There were formidable mountains all around and only one road out of town.

  »»•««

  Mr. Mason of the Kennecott Hotel was a portly middle-aged man with a beard and a ponytail, his head wrapped in a bandana. The fact Elias didn’t produce an identification card or a social security number didn’t seem to bother him.

  “Oh, heck,” said Mr. Mason, stroking his beard. “I doubt anyone’s going to take the trouble to come all the way up here to audit me. You’re hired.”

  Mr. Mason gave Elias the menu and told her to come back the next morning. Elias was ecstatic, surprised at Mr. Mason’s quick decision. The job would last until the tourist season was over in mid-September when all of Kennecott and most of McCarthy would be closed for the winter. Elias couldn’t think that far ahead yet. After all, she was only trying to save up enough money for a plane ride to see Mt. St. Elias. And now she seeme
d to have herself committed to a job that would extend beyond her original plan. She considered whether she might just leave after she saw what she came here to see, but the genuine hospitality of Katy and the earnest expression of Mr. Mason dissuaded her from that thought. She would do her best to stay on and help out until the end of the tourist season and then decide what to do, whether to return home or continue her self-imposed exile. No one was forcing her to work as in prison, but she would discipline herself to do it.

  Elias looked out the dining room window at the Kennicott Glacier and the snowcapped Mt. Blackburn sitting majestically on the horizon. Her earlier doubt about coming to Alaska scattered like the clouds in the sky, now a clear blue with the radiant sun, which had risen before four that morning and would set after eleven that night, hanging gloriously in the south.

  »»•««

  Later in the night, Elias met Katy’s roommates. Gina came home in an orange vest, red hair flowing beneath a yellow hard hat, and apologized about the dried mud on her shirt when she hugged Elias. Shuping welcomed Elias warmly as well and offered to loan her clothes upon hearing she had come to McCarthy without luggage of any kind.

  At first, Elias was apprehensive about sharing a small room with three other women. It reminded her of prison and Lucy, the thief, and the bully she fought with. No one said anything about rules regarding behavior or expectations. She felt foolish when she asked Katy about curfew, lights out, bathroom schedule, and chore responsibilities. Katy burst out laughing as if she thought Elias was only joking. To her relief, Elias found all her roommates easy to get along with in the ensuing days. They came home at different times, but all got in bed by midnight for a lively chat before drifting off to sleep. There was no problem sharing the small bathroom, and everyone cleaned up after herself. The top bunk was better than the bed she had in prison. Elias volunteered to cook all the meals, and everyone seemed happy to pack delicious, homemade lunch for work. Elias felt this was the first time she was appreciated for something she decided to do on her own. In prison, she was forced to work, and although she enjoyed cooking there to an extent, cooking for her new friends simply because she wanted to brought about a satisfaction nothing else could compare.

  Chapter Seven

  The restaurant at Kennecott Hotel was upscale, and even though Elias was more used to mess hall meals at the prison, mashed potatoes, creamed spinach, and such, she was such a quick learner that within a short time, the sous-chef asked her to help prepare slow-roasted prime rib and crab-stuffed halibut. She learned to plate the dishes so they looked magazine worthy. When she received her first wage ever, in cash, she teared up secretly. It was a small step toward making a living on her own, but a step nonetheless.

  On an evening off, she decided to walk up the mountain and see the fourteen-story Kennecott Mill, said by many to be the tallest wooden structure in the United States. It once concentrated copper for the mining company that made hundreds of millions of dollars in the early twentieth century. She was enthralled by the tall, expansive edifice, painted red, built into the side of a mountain. Although some parts of the mill were in disrepair, by and large, it was well preserved. She imagined what it might have been like a hundred years ago─men wearing hard hats yelling and shouting as they worked, loads and loads of copper concentrate leaving the railroad depot just to the side of the mill, passing through McCarthy, heading to Chitina, and then following the Copper River down to Cordova. She pictured the men walking out of the mill at the end of the day, past where she was standing right now, down to the company store to pick up tins of pomade, going back to their bunkhouse to clean up and get ready for a dance at the Recreation Hall. Elias never danced with men, and the thought of dancing with one someday made her blush. A bittersweet feeling rose in her mind. She had only danced with Ce’Rainitee at the nightclub before she went to prison. She reminisced about her old best friend until she reminded herself again that the painful history should remain buried.

  She walked down the mountain to the old company store, which was restored and now served as a welcome center for tourists visiting the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. It was a front-gabled structure with redwood sidings. The chime over the door rang loudly when she went in, the sound piercing in the quietness of the afternoon. There was no one there but a ranger behind a counter. He turned his gaze from his computer to look at her but said nothing. She felt as if she had intruded on a private moment. She didn’t expect to be the only visitor there, nor get the attention of a strange, lonesome man, tall and imposing, dark brown skin, with short, curly black hair above a wide forehead and deep, thoughtful eyes.

  “May I help you?” he asked, seeming a bit stunned to see her.

  She realized she must have been staring. She tried to calm the mysterious flutter in her stomach. “Oh…um…no.” She bit her lip. “Actually…”

  “Yes?” he said in a firm and clear voice that reverberated in the air around her, making her skin tingle.

  She trembled slightly. “I’m sorry. It’s just, well…” She took a step toward him. “I haven’t seen you before.”

  “I would imagine not,” he said in a peculiar, almost aristocratic, accent that she had only heard in old black-and-white movies from the 1940s. “What are you looking to do in the park today? I could help point you in the right direction.”

  “Okay…” She had already seen the Kennecott Mill and didn’t plan on seeing anything else. Time seemed to tick away slowly while she worked on a response.

  Eventually, the ranger nodded. “Let me know if I can be of assistance.” He returned his gaze to the computer in front of him.

  Elias felt a pull toward him, but she remained in her spot instead. “I’m Elias.”

  He looked up again, a puzzled expression on his face.

  “Elias. That’s…that’s my name,” she said, wondering what she could do to get a smile out of him.

  “So, you’re here to see your namesake mountain?”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  He shrugged. “Just a lucky guess.”

  She felt foolish. She didn’t know where the conversation was headed, but words kept coming out of her. “I’m saving up for a plane ride to Yakutat to see Mt. St. Elias.” She swallowed hard, trying to calm her palpitating heart. “I’m a line cook at the Kennecott Hotel down the road. Do you ever eat there?”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid I haven’t found myself in the position to afford a dining experience at the esteemed Kennecott Hotel, but many tourists have complimented its fine cuisine.”

  She couldn’t help but adore his courtly manner of speech. “Where are the many tourists today?”

  “Most tourists come in only very briefly, usually in the mornings. Afternoons are slow.” He looked straight into her eyes, his countenance hard and his manners cold. “It’s all very well. I have chosen this particular post for the quiet and the solitude.”

  She got the feeling he wanted her to leave. Her heart sank. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bother you. I’ll go now.” She turned toward the exit. This was stupid, she thought, just like a few weeks ago when she tried to ask Big Ray to dinner and found out he was married.

  “Wait…” he called out.

  She turned around and saw that his face had softened into a sort of apologetic expression.

  “You’re not bothering me,” he said, kindlier now. “I’m not doing anything of importance. Are you sure I can’t help you with the park today? It’s a short walk from here to the terminus of Kennicott Glacier. There’s a nice lake there where you can kayak, or just enjoy the shore filled with spectacular cottongrass.”

  She smiled. “That sounds lovely. Tell me more. I should have plenty of time this summer to do what you suggest in the park.”

  He pulled out a map and a brochure and began to describe various points of interest in the park to her. He was professional, and she enjoyed listening to him talk. She hardly registered anything he said, other than the voice he said it in. Ten minutes late
r, when the talk was over, she grabbed the tourist materials and reluctantly left the welcome center.

  She walked aimlessly with her mind replaying the scene with the ranger again and again. He wasn’t friendly at all at first, and perhaps he ended up being pleasant only because he remembered it was his job to make visitors feel welcome. Nonetheless, she enjoyed the chat. She happened upon a pizza bus, painted red and silver, parked at the edge of a cliff. She ordered a cup of hot Alaskan Chai and sipped it while looking out at the sweeping view of Mt. Blackburn and Kennicott Glacier to the west and breathing in the clear, alpine air. It was early July, the heat of summer in Texas, but in Alaska, she had to keep a jacket on to stay warm. There sure was quiet and solitude in these mountains, and she wondered if she, despite her desire for love and companionship, was also destined for a quiet and solitary life.

  Chapter Eight

  Elias was still thinking over her encounter with the ranger in Kennecott when she returned to Katy’s cabin. She slid her muddy boots off her feet and placed them by the door. She wiggled her toes and stretched them a little inside her cold and damp cotton socks, which were not the best for these parts. Her roommates mentioned something about Merino wool, but she couldn’t afford it the last time she inquired at the general store.

  “Hi, Elias. How was your afternoon off?” asked Katy, who was making tea in the kitchenette.

  Elias smiled. She could smell cinnamon, and a hint of nutmeg in the tea Katy was conjuring up. The aromatic steam comforted her after hours in the chilly mountain air. “I walked around Kennecott and stopped in the visitor center.”

  “So, you met Stuffy Sam?” Katy brought two cups of tea to the dining table.

  “Who?” asked Elias as they sat.

  “The ranger who’s always there on weekday afternoons. Samuel Collins,” replied Katy. “He came about a year ago and pretty much kept a distance from everyone. The man just couldn’t be bothered with us uncivilized crowd. We found out from the other rangers that Stuffy Sam’s from a rich family in Atlanta. He does nothing but look down at us. He would hardly speak to us, and when he does, it’s always in that I’m above you tone of voice, you know what I mean?”