22

Whatever had possessed him to volunteer to climb that stupid mountain again? Frank paced his room, smoking a cigar.

There wasn’t any real logical explanation other than the fact that as soon as Allan and John shared their excitement about their future plans, Frank saw it as a way to get rid of them both. He’d killed Henry that way, hadn’t he? It seemed ironic that he should eliminate his other problems the same way.

But he had no desire to go trekking up a mountain again. Sleeping in tents. Eating food that was only worthy for dogs and gutter rats. There had been nothing about that trip six years ago that had been worth the time and money. With exception to Henry’s death, of course, and even that didn’t satisfy as much as Frank had hoped it would.

As the night escalated with the men’s plans, Cassidy left, citing a headache. He was just as glad to see her go. The young woman was rather unnerving. She seemed to gauge that something wasn’t quite on the up and up, and Frank didn’t need to have to worry about her interference. Especially when there were details to iron out and plans to be made. Way too many plans.

In the end it was concluded that John’s Ahtna-Athabaskan tribal people would help. Frank was less than excited when he heard this. The fewer people around the better. It would force Frank to wait on his plans until they were able to leave them all behind at the lower camp. He sighed at the thought of the work that would have to be done. They’d have to do a lot of snowshoeing and use dogsleds again. There would be that ever annoying need to walk hunched over, poking a stick into the ground to make sure that the trail wouldn’t give way to some endless glacial hole. And then there was the cold.

Frank shook his head.

He really should stop complaining. He’d provided the perfect scheme. He wouldn’t have to climb all the way up. Just once they left base camp with the helpers and dogs behind, he’d have to look for his opportunity.

He walked over to his bag. This time, he’d come even better prepared. Unwrapping a brown paper package, he pulled out a thirty-eight revolver and a brand-spanking-new hunting knife he’d taken from The Brennan/Irving Company. It didn’t have to look like an accident, because there wouldn’t be any witnesses. And because of the very accommodating nature of the glacier, he’d have no trouble ridding himself of the bodies.

He’d be the only one to come back alive. And of course—he’d be grief stricken.

Cassidy slammed the pie crust dough down on the worktable. All morning long, the staff had been abuzz about the team climbing Mount McKinley. After she’d snapped poor Marie’s head off with her words about the stupidity of the idea, the rest of the group left her alone. No one here had ever seen her in less than a positive spirit. And they definitely hadn’t seen her lose her temper. Well, they were getting an eyeful and an earful today.

The wooden rolling pin sped across the dough. There wouldn’t be any issue getting the crust thin enough today. She was mad enough to roll it out as thin as paper.

“Cassidy Faith.” The kitchen was hushed at Mrs. Johnson’s voice. “I’d like to see you in the dining room, please.”

Cassidy nodded but kept rolling.

“Now.” Mrs. Johnson’s voice was sharp.

She blew the hair off her forehead, set the wooden pin down, and wiped her hands on her apron. “Yes, ma’am.”

In the dining room, Cassidy crossed her arms. Deep down, she knew she was acting like a toddler throwing a tantrum, but her anger ruled out everything else.

Her boss turned to look at her as soon as she shooed everyone else out of the room. “Let’s get one thing straight right now, missy. I will not abide you taking out your ill-mannered and uppity temper on the other staff in this hotel. You seem determined to prove to me that you aren’t all gumdrops and rainbows, but I assure you there is no need. Nor desire. No matter what, you will treat the others with respect.”

“I didn’t—”

Mrs. Johnson cut off her protest mid-sentence.

She stepped closer to Cassidy and pointed her finger. “I don’t want excuses. For someone who I never thought could have a bad day, you sure do beat them all. Did you know that Mrs. McGovern just had to speak with me because you lit into one of the maids and she hasn’t stopped crying since?” The older woman began to pace. “I don’t know what has gotten into you, but it needs to stop.”

Cassidy bit her lip.

“Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

A few moments passed, but then Cassidy couldn’t take it any longer. “I don’t think they should go.”

“You don’t think who should go where?”

She rolled her eyes. Now she knew she was being impertinent. “The men. I don’t think they should go up the mountain.”

“And they need your permission why exactly?”

The woman knew how to stab her where it really hurt. “They don’t. But my father is just now healing and last time he went up there, he lost a man coming down—”

“But it’s not your decision.”

“But neither one of them even thought about me and what I—”

“Aha. So there it is.” Mrs. Johnson put her hands on her hips. “You’re offended that your dad and Allan didn’t consult you before making the decision.”

Pretty much.

All her life, her dad had talked things through with her. But now he didn’t need her. He talked to Allan instead. And Allan . . . well, he should know better. At least, if he cared about her, he should. Maybe that’s what really ate at her. Maybe Allan didn’t feel the same way she did.

Mrs. Johnson’s arms came around Cassidy and pulled her in for a hug. “It’s hard being in love, isn’t it?”

He hadn’t seen Cassidy all day, and when Allan asked Mrs. Johnson about her, she gave him a scolding glance and shooed him away.

It didn’t seem right. Almost every day now, they walked in the evenings together, but Cassidy was nowhere to be found. And Allan couldn’t wait to share everything with her. He paced the spot where they usually met and considered all that was happening.

It had all moved so fast. Once the decision had been made, momentum took off. Sure, their timeline wasn’t ideal, but all the pieces were fitting into place nicely. John dug out the equipment he’d had from the last expedition, and they’d spent the day trying on gear, patching the tents, and making lists. Frank wasn’t his ideal climbing partner—or business partner for that matter—but Allan was still excited. The man had several stories of how his life was now changed. He was even going to church. Could the conniving Frank of the past be gone? Maybe Louis and his family just didn’t know.

Allan’s dream of climbing Mount McKinley would finally be realized. Not only that, but Allan had it in the back of his mind that once they were actually on the mountain away from everyone else, he could finally get Frank to tell the truth. The truth about the business and about his father. Especially if the man was being honest about God changing his life.

Allan’s questions could be put to rest. His dreams come to fruition. Maybe they could even square away the disaster that happened with the company.

It was funny—although he didn’t trust Frank, Allan thought him far less imposing than he’d expected. The man was accommodating and even pleasant. When he made suggestions and John or Allan overruled them, he yielded. Often he was even self-abasing, admitting how little he knew and how grateful he was for their wisdom. Maybe he really had changed.

Allan wasn’t entirely sure they were being all that wise, given the way they were advancing their plans. John had always been a very cautious man who gave heavy regard to the details. This time . . . there wasn’t that luxury. Now they had to scramble for everything from gloves and mittens to thick woolen socks and backpacks.

It was a good thing John had gotten that info from Karstens regarding the food. Last week’s hunt had been prosperous, and they had enough homemade pemmican balls made to make it through the whole trip. Of course they still needed a variety of other stores, but Mr. Bradley had been generous after their promise to repay. They were blessed.

Now if he could just talk to Cassidy, all would be right with the world.

He glanced at his watch. It was well over an hour past the time they usually met. Something must have happened to keep her occupied. It wasn’t like they had any promises to meet there. But until now—she had come with regularity.

Allan couldn’t help feeling the loss of her company. Cassidy affected him in a way he’d never known. She’d encouraged his love of Alaska and of Denali. The mountain was no longer just the place where his father had died. It had become a steadfast companion, constant and in many ways comforting. Through Cassidy’s eyes, Allan had learned to look for the positive things in life—the good in people—joy in the moment. She had a passion and a love for life and Alaska that exceeded anything Allan had ever experienced. He wondered if there would ever be a chance . . . a time when she could love Allan with that same degree of passion.

He looked down at his watch and then once more in the direction Cassidy had always come in the past. Nothing. He put aside his disappointment and headed for the staff sleeping quarters. They had an early morning fishing trip planned with some guests, so he’d better head on to bed. He’d have to find Cassidy at luncheon tomorrow.

For two straight days, she’d managed to avoid him, but Allan couldn’t figure out why. Sure, their schedules were jam-packed, but that hadn’t stopped them from finding time to chat before. John said that he hadn’t spoken to Cassidy either, which was doubly strange. Maybe Mrs. Johnson had some major event coming that the men didn’t know about. That would explain it. But he decided to wait in the dining room anyway. Just in case.

Allan sat down with a paper from Seattle and decided to catch up on the news from last month. Between the President’s visit, then subsequent death, and everything else at the Curry, Allan had no idea what was going on in the rest of the world. Frank happened upon him shortly after Allen finished with the front page.

“We’ve had so little time to talk since my arrival,” Frank said, taking a chair opposite Allan. “I know there’s much to be said between us.”

Allan put the paper aside. “Yes, I suppose there is.”

“I’m sure you have questions about Louis.”

With a nod Allan fixed his gaze on Frank. “Yes. A great many.”

“Well, I suppose the temptations were just too great. I’ve been suspicious of the man for years. I tried to overlook the occasional discrepancy for the sake of the family, but the loss became far too regular.”

“And you questioned him about this?”

“It wouldn’t have done any good,” Frank countered. “He would never have admitted to it. I think the fact that you called for an audit of the books left him trembling in his boots. I was quite grateful that you made the decision for that. It took some of the pressure off of me.”

“I would still like to hear what Louis has to say.”

“Oh, I’m sure he would have some sort of excuse—if he admitted to any of it. I think for the sake of the family it’s probably best to just let bygones be bygones.”

Allan knew better than to believe Frank—at least the old Frank. But what about now? “So you don’t intend to press charges?”

“Well, I had considered it. I’m not one to treat thievery lightly. I always figure it just encourages others to take advantage. However, in this circumstance, there are only a handful of people who know the truth. To have him arrested would force your entire family into scandal. Your good name would be dragged through the courts and I fear it would spell disaster for the company.”

“I’m not afraid of that.” Allan could see his statement caused Frank to squirm. “In fact, I would welcome a trial. I want to get to the bottom of it. I want the truth to be told. If Louis has done what you say he did, he deserves to go to prison.”

Allan heard Cassidy’s distinctive laugh. He had to speak to her. He turned back to Frank. “If you don’t mind, I have some business to attend to.”

“As do I.” Frank jumped up, seeming only too happy to put an end to the conversation. “I hope you have a productive day, my boy. I find it most difficult to wait for our impending journey.” He gave Allan a nod and made his way from the dining room just as Cassidy entered. Allan watched as she stepped aside to let Frank pass. He gave her a nod and then disappeared.

Allan thought she looked relieved. At least until she turned back and saw him. Anxiety mixed with what appeared to be distaste filled her expression.

“What’s wrong?” He stood and crossed the room to be near her.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“I don’t believe that for one minute, Cassidy.” He stepped closer to her. “I thought we’d just been too busy to see each other, but now, by the look on your face, I’m thinking that I’ve done something to upset you.”

Her hands fidgeted in front of her. She looked down for a moment and then looked back into his eyes. “I . . . I . . .”

The hurt he saw there was almost his undoing. For the rest of his days, he never wanted to see her look like that again. He took her hands in his. “Go on. What is it?”

“I’m worried.”

Her words took him aback. “Worried about what?”

“You . . . my father . . . the expedition. All of it.”

Was that all? He smiled. “Oh, Cassidy, there’s nothing to worry about. That’s why I was waiting for you. I wanted to talk to you about all the exciting things—”

“That’s just it.” She pulled away. “It’s going to be mid-September when you leave. The temps will still be moderate most likely, but I’ve seen the snow fly here in early September. Snow down here means major snow up there. And you’re heading into the wilderness knowing this! My father used to always say that June, July, and August were the best times to do any climbing in Alaska. I just don’t understand. You were planning an expedition for next year. And then Frank comes along and says, ‘Hey, let’s do it now’ and you all just think it’s a grand plan? Why do you even trust the man?” She placed her hands on her hips.

Allan had never seen her feisty like this. She’d always been so positive and upbeat and now she seemed . . . well, to be honest, she seemed angry. He held up both his hands. “I came up here wanting to climb Mount McKinley eventually. You knew that. I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“Happy? How could I be happy? The time of year is a disaster, the time crunch is a disaster, my dad is still healing from a disaster, and you stubborn men are dashing around to make all these plans, and you didn’t even think to ask how I felt about it when the two men I care most about in all the world—” She slapped her hand over her mouth.

The words were like a punch to the gut. But a good one—if there could be such a thing. She was worried about him and she cared for him. Sweeter words couldn’t have ever been said.

Allan took hold of her arms with a new confidence. “Cassidy . . . I’m sorry. It was wrong for us to not include you.” He inched closer to her again, intent on doing what he’d wanted to do for a very long time—kiss her. “Forgive me?”

Tears spilled out of her eyes and without a word she pushed him away so hard that he nearly lost his balance. Allan steadied himself and started to call out to her, but she was already gone.

He thought about going after her, then decided against it. She obviously needed time, and he knew what that felt like. A slow smile formed and Allan couldn’t resist whirling on the heel of his boot. She cared about him. In that moment he felt like he could have run straight up the side of Denali.

Cassidy could hardly see for her tears by the time she crested Deadhorse Hill. She found her favorite rock and plopped down to have a good, long cry. Why did things have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t Allan and her father understand how hard this was for her?

She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. She had a terrible feeling that something horrendous was going to happen to them on that mountain, but no one cared. No one would listen to anything she had to say about it.

Rustling sounded in the brush behind her. Cassidy stiffened. She’d been foolish to fly up here without her rifle. She drew in a deep breath to force her nerves to calm.

“Cassidy?”

Thomas peeked around the rock, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, but I saw you come up here and thought you looked upset.”

She let down her guard. “Oh, Thomas, you are probably the only one in the world who cares what I feel right now.”

He climbed up on the rock. “Why do you say that?”

Cassidy shook her head and straightened out the tangles of her skirt, then dried her eyes on the hem of her apron. “I don’t know. Besides, it’s not fair to burden you with my worries.”

Thomas shrugged. “You said we were friends—that we’d always be good friends. Don’t friends share their burdens?”

She was humbled by his gentle words. “Of course they do. I’m sorry. It’s just been so hard these last few days. I’m terribly worried about my father making this climb.”

“Don’t you think he knows what he’s doing?”

The question was asked innocently enough, but hit Cassidy like a slap to the face. Of course her father knew what he was doing. He’d never been one to take unreasonable chances. He was born and raised here, and he knew full well the dangers and how to avoid them.

“Thomas, you are quite amazing.” She forced a smile. “Of course my father knows what he’s doing. I suppose I’m being childish. He didn’t talk to me about it and I felt left out. Then when I tried to talk to Allan about it he . . . well . . . he didn’t help matters.”

“Your dad is the smartest man I know. He’s real careful too. I’ve learned a lot from him about how to do things so as not to get yourself or someone else hurt. You should trust him.”

She nodded. “I do. And I know I shouldn’t worry.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Thomas sounded quite the authority. “In my Bible study with your father he told me worry was a sin. It’s like saying that God doesn’t care enough to take care of the problem.”

Again she received his gentle chastisement with a smile. “And we both know there isn’t anything God doesn’t care about. I’ve been such a ninny, Thomas, and you were a good friend to deal with me honestly.”

He returned her smile. “I’ve never really had a friend until you, Miss Cassidy.”

“I’m certain you will make many friends as the years go by, Thomas. I’m sure my father already considers you one, and Allan too.”

“You like him a lot, don’t you? Mr. Brennan, that is.”

She was momentarily taken aback. Dare she be honest with him about her feelings for Allan, or would that only serve to reopen his wounded heart?

Thomas seemed to understand. “It’s all right, Miss Cassidy. I know you love him.”

“You do?” She shook her head. “How can you possibly know that?”

He shrugged. “Because I know what love looks like. You look like you feel things for him that I felt for you.”

“Oh, Thomas. . . .” She looked away, afraid she might start crying all over again.

Thomas touched her arm. Cassidy forced herself to look at him. He was such a sweet boy.

“Don’t be sad, Miss Cassidy. Love is a good thing to feel.”