Worthy of Riches (27 page)

A knock sounded at the door.

Mother and son stared at each other.

Finally Luke stepped aside. “I can't believe you're doing this,” he
threw at her and headed for the front room. His steps were heavy as he climbed the stairs.

Another knock.
What am I doing?
Jean asked herself.
Am I crazy to go off with him?
She walked to the table.
I am. I can't go. This whole thing is crazy.

“Jean? You in there?” Ray asked through the door.

Intending to tell him she'd changed her mind, Jean walked to the door and opened it.

The big man gave her a stiff smile. “Good morning. You ready?”

Jean didn't answer right away. The argument with her son was still playing through her mind. Should she let him tell her what she could or could not do? She remembered the smirking faces of the men who'd challenged her, and resolve replaced reticence.

“Mrs. Hasper? Is something wrong?”

“No. Everything's fine. I'm ready to go.” She hadn't spent much time camping and had never been hunting, but it couldn't be all that difficult. This would be an adventure. She managed a smile. “How are you, Mr. Townsend?”

“Good. Hankering to get to the mountains.”

Jean picked up her bag.

“Is that all you've got?” Ray asked.

“Yes. And my rifle.” She nodded at the gun leaning against the wall and felt a pang of grief. As many years as she and Will had been married, that rifle had been in the house. He'd purchased it just before their wedding. “Was I supposed to bring bedding and food?”

“No, I've got everything. I'm just used to women wanting to bring everything plus the kitchen sink,” he kidded, taking the bag off her shoulder and hefting it onto his own. Glancing at her boots, he asked, “Those keep your feet warm?”

“Uh-huh. They're lined with fur. I borrowed them from Jessie. She guaranteed me they'd be comfortable and warm.”

“They fit you all right? We'll be doing some hiking.” Ray didn't wait for her to answer but headed for the truck.

Jean followed, feeling like she'd been dismissed. “I wore them all day yesterday, and they feel fine.”

“Good,” Ray said, chucking the bag into the back of the truck
with three horses. They whickered and stomped their feet. “You ever ride?”

“Yes. Not often, but I can handle a horse when I have to.”

“Good. We'll ride today and most of tomorrow, then we'll leave the horses at a friend's and hoof it the rest of the way.”

“That's fine by me,” Jean said, climbing into the front of the truck.

They headed out of Palmer and toward the mountains. When the road came to an end, Ray stopped the truck alongside an ancient pickup. “That rig belongs to old Sam Goodman. He parks it here and walks up to his cabin.” His eyes sparkling, he added, “He doesn't come down much—couple times a year is all.”

Jean didn't think she'd like living so isolated but didn't say anything. “How far is it to his place?”

“More than a day's ride this time of year. During the summer you can make it in a day, but there's not enough daylight for that now. We'll make Sam's sometime tomorrow morning.” He climbed out. “From here on it's either horseback or our feet.” He closed the door and moved to the back of the truck.

Jean followed, wondering how she would fare. Her stomach was doing little somersaults.

Ray slipped the latch holding a gated door, slid out a catwalk, then climbed inside. He reappeared a few moments later, leading a saddled bay mare. “She's gentle and sure-footed,” he said, handing the reins to Jean and disappearing into the truck again. This time he appeared with a stocky, black gelding saddled with gear. He tethered the animal to a willow, then returned to the truck to get his white stallion.

The stallion pranced and jerked on its lead, anxious to get moving. “This is Jack. Your horse is called Jill,” he said with a grin. “Celeste named them. Hopefully they won't fall and break their crowns—whatever that means.”

Jean had never heard Ray actually crack a joke, and although she didn't think it was very funny, she laughed anyway. She wondered what else she might discover about Ray Townsend in the days to come.

Ray attached the lead of the packhorse to his stallion, then slid his rifle into a pouch and climbed on. Jean did the same with her gun, then put her foot in the stirrup and tried to push herself up. Her foot slipped,
and she fell against the horse, gripping the saddle horn. Without looking at Ray, she tried again and managed to climb aboard. Settling herself in the saddle, she got a comfortable hold on the reins. “All set,” she said with a smile, embarrassed at her clumsy mount.

They headed up a trail leading away from the road and into the forest. The trees quickly closed in. The smell of spruce and fir permeated the air, and a chill wind stung their faces. The last hardy leaves clinging to alder and birch shivered in the breeze, and the trail was carpeted with their red and yellow predecessors.

Jean kept an eye on the thickets, watching for wildlife, especially bears. Since the encounter with the grizzly at the farm and Will's death, she'd been cautious of wandering too far into their territory. Sometimes she'd find herself looking over her shoulder when going from the house to the barn.

A lynx darted out of a willow grove and across the trail. Jill spooked and nearly unseated Jean, who hauled on the reins. “Whoa!” The lynx sprinted across a meadow, and the horse pranced. Finally able to quiet her horse, Jean gazed at the wild cat.

Ray kept his eyes on the animal until it disappeared into the underbrush. “Beautiful animals,” he said with admiration.

Surprised to hear wonder in this big man's voice, Jean said, “They are.” Her mount sidestepped and blew air from its nostrils. Once she had the mare steady, Jean pulled off the knit gloves she'd been wearing, shoved them into a pocket, and replaced them with leather ones. “It's colder than I thought.”

Ray looked at the blue sky. “It'll be a frigid night, and as we climb into the high country, it'll get colder. But you've never seen anything like it,” he said, prodding his horse and moving on.

Jean watched Ray's back. Here in the wild, he seemed a different man. His voice had softened, and he was more relaxed. Clearly he was at home in these surroundings, and he had a reverence for the wilderness she hadn't expected. She felt some of her anxiety ease and began to believe that this adventure might have been a good idea.

By afternoon Jean's back ached, her hips and legs were cramping, and the insides of her legs were chafed from rubbing. She was hungry and wanted off her horse, but Ray gave no indication of stopping. Jean
wasn't about to complain, so she gritted her teeth and acted as if she was having a fine time.

Finally, when the sky turned pink and the sun settled behind the mountains, Ray pulled up and looked over a clearing. “This looks like a good place to stop,” he said, climbing off his horse. “I'll tether the horses here. Put your tack there by that cottonwood. Keep your saddle with you. It'll give you something to rest against.” He went to work unsaddling his horse. He made no offer to help Jean.

Jean stared at Jill and the saddle with its cinches and straps. She'd never done this before. She watched Ray and copied him. The cinch knot was tight, and she struggled to loosen it, breaking a fingernail right down to the quick in her efforts. She stifled an oath and kept working. She didn't dare fall too far behind, or she'd be lost. Finally she lifted the heavy saddle off and lugged it toward the center of the clearing.

“Those can be pretty heavy,” Ray said, taking her saddle and carrying it to a grassy spot. “We need firewood and kindling. Why don't you get us some?” He started digging out an area for a fire.

Her frustration growing, Jean dropped the horse's blanket beside the saddle and went to search for kindling. After the long day she'd had, he wanted her to gather firewood? And he wasn't going to help? Her body ached, and her legs felt weak and bowed. She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of seeing her hobble, so she threw back her shoulders and forced her legs to move normally. She managed to find broken tree limbs and bark and carried them back to camp.

Ray lit dry grasses and added tiny pieces of wood. “You got that kindling?” he asked, turning and looking up at her.

She dropped the wood without a word. Her stomach growled loudly, and she rested a hand on her abdomen.

“Thank you,” Ray said, poking kindling into the fledgling fire. Without looking up, he said, “I'll get you something to eat in two shakes.” The fire flamed and caught. “Good thing the weather's dry. Makes fire building a lot easier.” He glanced at the twilight sky. Wisps of pink clouds were fading as darkness overtook the heavens. “Looks like the weather's going to hold.”

Jean moved her saddle closer to the fire and sat beside it, leaning against the hard leather.

“We need more firewood—lots more,” Ray said, adding kindling. “It's going to be cold tonight.” He added a limb to the flames. “See what you can find, and I'll cut some from the bigger chunks.” He grabbed an axe out of his pack, set a large piece of wood on end, and with one swing, split it. While Jean scavenged for timber, he made a pile of split wood and added to the fire until he had a substantial blaze.

Jean added another armload to the stack. Weary, she wanted nothing more than to sit, bundled beneath a blanket, and sleep. “Is that enough?”

“It'll do.”

“Is there anything else I need to do?” she asked, hoping he'd say no.

Ray glanced around the camp. “Whatever else you need, do for yourself. You might want to start with your bedding.” He stood and grabbed bedrolls out of the gear. Tossing one to her, he said, “Roll that out. It's easier than sleeping on the hard ground.” He handed her two blankets, then spread out his bedding. “Stay close to the fire, or you'll be more than cold by morning.” He offered her a smile. “I'll have supper cooking in no time.”

Jean nodded and wished she'd stayed home. The men had been right. This was no place for a woman. She didn't know what was worse—her aching body, her fatigue, or her empty stomach. Already cold, she leaned against the saddle and pulled both blankets around her.

Ray set a can of beans in hot coals away from the flames and he spooned coffee grounds into a pot. “The creek's just over there,” he said, nodding toward the woods and standing. “I'll fill up the pot and be right back.” Ray disappeared into the gloom.

Feeling alone, the night sounds pressing in, Jean hugged bent legs. When a branch snapped, she jumped and peered into the forest. She wished Ray would hurry.

A few moments later he reappeared. “Looks like that creek has some trout. How would you like fish for breakfast?”

“Sounds good.”

He set the pot in the coals, then dug in his bag. He tossed two hard biscuits to Jean. “This ought to quiet your stomach. No meat tonight, but with luck, we'll have some for breakfast.” He spooned beans onto
two tin plates, taking a larger portion for himself. “That enough for ya?” he asked, handing her a plate.

“Fine.” Jean bit into the biscuit. It was dry but tasted good. She ate a spoonful of beans. She didn't usually care much for beans, but these tasted delicious. Quiet settled around them.

The coffee was ready as Jean ate her last bite. “You want a cup?” Ray asked.

“Sounds good. I'm cold.”

Shoving the last of a biscuit into his mouth, Ray picked up the pot and filled a cup. Handing it to Jean, he said, “Boy, I was hungry. You feeling better?”

“I'm fine, just a little tired.”

“We covered a lot of miles. You did well.”

Jean felt a flush of satisfaction at his compliment. She smiled. “Thank you. How much farther is it?”

“Couple more hours; then we'll go the rest of the way on foot. I figure we can make camp about dark.”

“When will we see mountain sheep?”

“Tomorrow night we'll get a good night's rest, then head for the high country first thing the next morning. We probably won't see any until we get into the upper meadows and the rocks. They stay up in the peaks where they're safe from almost anything, except a rifle.” He patted the gun resting at his side. “It's not easy to hunt them, but I rarely come home empty-handed.” He chucked another piece of wood into the fire, then filled another cup with coffee.

Leaning against his saddle, he took a drink and stared at the flames. He glanced at Jean, took another drink, then said hesitantly, “It's been a long time since I went hunting with anyone except hunting parties. 'Course, then I don't do any hunting. I generally like being alone out here.” He paused. “Ellie used to come with me. It's been five years since our last trip.”

“It must have been hard to raise Celeste on your own.”

“Oh, yeah. She's been a handful.” He grinned. “She's a gem, though. Celeste and her mother were real close. They not only looked alike; they also thought alike. Both of them could be as cantankerous as a stubborn mule.”

Jean wasn't one to pry, but she felt a prompting to ask more. She didn't speak for a minute, but the nudge to ask grew into a compulsion. Finally she asked, “How did Ellie die?”

“She was trying to have our son.” Ray kept his face a mask and stared at the fire. “Something was wrong, and there was no doctor.” His eyes glistened, and he worked his jaw. “It was my fault. I brought her here to Alaska.”

“You couldn't have known you were going to need a doctor. You can never tell about those kind of things.” Jean picked up a piece of dried grass and broke it in half. “Will and I set out as newlyweds, hoping for a good life. God stayed with us every step, but the world is filled with pitfalls. Things don't always work out they way we plan.” She felt the familiar ache of loss.

“I've never been hunting before. Will always went out on his own. I wish I'd gone with him. Now it's too late.” She pulled her legs up close to her chest and hugged her knees, wishing away the pain. “There will never be anyone like him again,” she said softly.

“I know how you feel. I still miss Ellie. Sometimes when I've got something important to share, I plan on how she'll react when I tell her, then I remember she's gone.” He shook his head. “I don't think I'll ever get used to living without her.” He pushed a stick into the flames, then pulled it out and stared at its glowing tip. “Sometimes I can still smell her perfume.” He pushed the stick back into the coals. “I should never have brought her here.”