8

Jack led the party up the trail to where his uncle camped with the dog team. The older man squatted beside a fire near a grassy knoll ablaze with Dwarf fireweed. The dogs whined at their arrival, but were quickly hushed by a reprimand. They settled around a cooking pot and ate roots of negaasget, uutngungsaat, iitat, marallat and mouse food cooked into a soup. And they sipped ayuq, a plant made into tea. 

When they broke camp, the trail continued uphill for the rest of the day. Dozens of horses lay dead on the trail, driven too hard by their masters in the harsh conditions. The weary trekkers stepped over them and continued struggling painfully up the path. 

They camped that night along the trail. Jack fed the dogs, thinking about what Ginny’d be doing right now. 

Serving dinner to the guests of the hotel, probably. He remembered the taste of the moose meat she’d cooked, how she added light-as-a-feather biscuits and gravy to the meal. He loved the way she was flushed from being near the stove, tendrils of hair wisping down to frame her face. 

He couldn’t think about her now. He had a job to do. But he kept the memory deep in his heart, to take out when they bedded down, before he said his prayers and went to sleep. 

Pete showed signs of deep fatigue. Running a hotel had hardly prepared him for the rigorous trek. If they could make it over the pass, and down Lake Bennett, Pete could have a rest. Once Jack helped him build a boat to cross the lake, he was on his own. Jack hoped Pete could finish the trip.

They arose early to trek with the dog sleds over the white-powder trail. Above them, deep snow shimmered on top of White Pass. In the meadow below them a grizzly bear fished the creek, her cub scampering beside her.

“She’s amazing,” Pete said. “I’m glad we’re not closer, though. She must be huge.” He grinned, showing the gaps in his broken teeth. “And there’s a herd of moose.”

Birds fluttered in the trees, while an eagle soared in the overcast sky. A light drizzle touched their cheeks. Over the next few days, the snow deepened as they climbed the pass. The trail narrowed, twisted and turned from one narrow ledge to the other. They plodded along, finally making it over the pass. On the way down, light flakes began to fall. 

Jack didn’t say much, none of them did. But he thought a lot. Ginny came into his mind often, her smile brightening his heart, causing him to lift praise to God for bringing her into his life. Was she the one God intended for him? 

They camped along the way, letting the team rest. Unlike many of the impatient prospectors, Jack refused to abuse his animals in the interest of time. When they finally reached the lake, the shoreline lay dotted by the tents of previous arrivals.