Whyborne
The bitterly cold air stung the skin of my face the moment we stepped out of the comparative warmth of the cabin. Night had fallen, and a gasp escaped me as I took in the landscape around us.
Fires blazed everywhere, their low, angry glow lighting up the bellies of great plumes of smoke rising toward the sky. For a moment, I thought the mining camp itself to be on fire. But no, the flames appeared to come from the shafts dug into the banks of the creek.
“What the devil?” I asked aloud.
Griffin followed my shocked gaze. “The fires? Jack spoke to me of them, when I asked him about mining. The permafrost is too hard to dig through. Prospectors burn fires throughout the night, then excavate the thawed ground the next day. Or what passes for day here, at least.”
“Oh.” It sounded unpleasant, backbreaking work.
“Most won’t even know if they’ve uncovered anything of value until spring,” Griffin went on. “Until the river runs free of ice, they can’t sluice any gold from the pay dirt. Imagine an entire winter of such labor, only to find you’re no better off than when you started.”
“It sounds abominable,” I agreed. “To travel to such a forsaken place, unsure if there’s any profit to be had in the trip. Why would anyone do such a thing?”
“Desperation for some. Gold fever for others.” Griffin shrugged. “Men do strange things in pursuit of wealth.”
I couldn’t argue. My own family had practiced everything from sorcery to mating with creatures from beneath the sea in such pursuit. Compared to that, traveling to this wilderness seemed rather tame after all.
We walked over the expanse of frozen black mud and snow to the restaurant. Long tables sat beneath a canvas tent, packed with bodies. Apparently, this was a popular place to find a hot meal after a day of digging half-frozen gravel out of the ground. A prominent sign warned there was to be no swearing, spitting, or dogs allowed inside.
“Whyborne!” Christine called. “There you are.”
My face grew hotter within the protection of my hood. Had Iskander indicated anything to her? Probably not, but no doubt she’d guessed we’d taken the opportunity to be intimate.
Griffin, of course, looked as if we’d merely lingered in the cabin to organize our belongings. “Christine,” he greeted her. “Iskander.”
“Have fun, gentlemen?” Christine asked slyly.
God. I’d never survive this trip.
“Indeed,” Griffin agreed, swinging a leg over the bench and settling opposite them.
“Do sit down, Whyborne,” Christine ordered. She gestured to the figures sitting beside her. “This is Matilda and Sarah. I’m sharing their cabin while we’re in the camp.”
The heavy coats and hoods had fooled my eyes. “Ladies,” I said, touching my hood in lieu of tipping a hat.
“Matilda and Sarah are miners,” Christine added.
Dear Lord, even the women here were manlier than me. Both looked as if they could snap me in half, and I had no doubts as to their ability to dig through the permafrost. “Dr. Putnam says she will tell us of science,” one said in a thick Scandinavian accent.
“I’m sure she will,” I muttered.
“Excuse me,” said a new voice. “May I join your table?”
A tall, thin man stood beside an empty spot on our bench, a polite smile on his face. “Reverend Scarrow, please sit,” Matilda said.
My heart sank slightly. I had nothing against men of the cloth per se, but in my limited experience they seemed to talk of nothing but God, and wished me to do the same. “Felix Scarrow,” he introduced himself. His handshake was strong, the skin of his palm more callused than I would have expected.
As we introduced ourselves, our dinners were served: moose steak, beans, and applesauce. I tucked in immediately, not wishing it to get cold. Griffin however waited with an expectant air.
“We thank you for this food, O Lord,” Scarrow intoned, bowing his head over his meal. Griffin did the same.
I paused in eating, feeling horribly uncomfortable. It hadn’t even occurred to me to wait. Fortunately, Scarrow kept the blessing short, and a moment later everyone tucked in.
“How long have you been in Hoarfrost, Reverend?” Griffin asked.
“Since just before the rivers froze,” Scarrow replied. “This poor flock had no one to tend them, so I felt it imperative they shouldn’t be left an entire winter without solace.”
“Revered Scarrow is doctor also,” Matilda said.
Scarrow nodded. “I’m no surgeon, but I studied the basics of medical care before setting out into the wilderness. Our little church here doubles as the hospital. Right now I have only a few patients, but scurvy hasn’t yet set in. I brew spruce needle tea to keep it at bay for those here in camp, but some of the prospectors scattered further along the creeks and rivers don’t know the trick. Or refuse to use it on the grounds it was discovered by the savage Indians and thus can’t possibly be of any use to white men.” He smiled ruefully.
Christine snorted. “Then let their teeth fall out, I say.”
Scarrow’s smile became pained. “I endeavor to take a more charitable attitude.”
“Of course,” Griffin said, smoothing things over. “I’m sure your help and presence has been of great value to the camp.”
“Thank you, but I am merely performing the work God has asked of me.” Scarrow paused. “I must admit, I have an interest in archaeology. Dr. Putnam, I’ve followed your career with as much attention as the newspapers allow me. Such wondrous discoveries you made in Egypt!”
“Oh. Ah, thank you.” Christine visibly braced herself, and I winced. Half the questions she fielded from the public involved the Biblical enslavement of the Israelites by the pharaohs, a tale for which no archaeological evidence had yet been uncovered.
Instead, Scarrow said, “I’m certain you will make even more fascinating discoveries here. Would you mind terribly if I come by your site tomorrow, as my duties permit, and observe your work? I promise not to get in the way.”
Christine looked pained, as if torn between his praise of her career and her own impulse to flatly deny his request. “I suppose,” she said at last. “But if your presence interferes in even the smallest way, you must leave immediately.”
“Of course.”
The rest of dinner passed in idle conversation. Scarrow inquired as to the conditions of the trail, and expressed dismay over our abandonment by the guide Vanya. “He came to services often,” Scarrow said with a shake of his head. “I would never have thought it of him. I hope he didn’t come to some harm.”
“It will probably always be a mystery,” Griffin said mildly. I concentrated on my rather gamy steak.
“Well,” Iskander said, putting his fork aside. “Supper was a nice change of pace from bacon, at any rate. Christine, if you’re at liberty, I wanted to review our supply lists with you. I’m afraid I left them in the cabin—”
She had already climbed over the bench by the time he finished speaking. “Let’s go see to them at once,” she said. A moment later, they vanished back out into the night.
“I think Whyborne,” Griffin said, “we should have a nice leisurely dessert, don’t you?”