Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
D arrow arranged the logs in the massive stone fireplace with practiced care, his movements deliberate as contentment settled over him like a warm blanket. The kitchen was clean, dinner dishes done, and peace had descended upon Kirkham Lodge as evening crept in.
Today had been a good one, starting with Sophie and Wyatt’s morning cemetery expedition. The ranger had dropped her back at the lodge after lunch before heading off for his afternoon shift. Sophie had borrowed Whitney’s car and gone into town for an interview, then spent the late afternoon filming around the property. She’d been conscientious about it too—had come to him and Whitney first thing with consent forms for filming at the lodge and its guests. Even Professor Manning had seemed quietly pleased at the idea of being included in her ghost-hunting project.
He’d watched her join the Parkers for a competitive game of horseshoes, filming clips between throws and laughing at Miles’ terrible aim. Later, she’d sat with Quinn and Johnny while they taught her some card game they’d invented, her camera forgotten as she got caught up in their complicated rules.
Now, as darkness settled in like a comfortable friend, Sophie was setting up her camera with professional efficiency while the others found their spots around the fire. The Parkers had claimed the loveseat—newly married and still wrapped up in each other. Professor Manning had his notebook ready, no doubt hoping for more historical details about the gold rush era. And Wyatt lurked near the doorway as if unsure whether to stay or flee, having returned for dinner, claiming he only came back for Nukak’s shepherd’s pie.
“Ye’re not leaving, are ye?” Darrow called out to Wyatt, even as his attention drifted to Whitney emerging from the kitchen with a tray of hot chocolate. The sight of her made his heart squeeze. There was something different about her lately, a glow that he doubted anyone else had noticed. “Tis tradition, you know. Ghost stories by the fire.”
Wyatt crossed his arms. “Since when?”
“Since I say so, boyo,” Darrow replied, but his grin was more about Whitney than Wyatt. Inside his chest, joy bubbled up like a spring as he watched his wife move among their guests. The secret of her condition sat warm in his heart, big and terrifying and amazing all at once. His fingers twitched, wanting to rest against his chest where that feeling lived, but he kept them steady. It wasn’t time to share yet. For now, the knowledge was just for them, and that made it all the more precious.
“Dad was a ghost in Scotland,” Johnny announced proudly from his cross-legged position on the floor. He wore his favorite wolf T-shirt and was practically vibrating with excitement. “But now he’s alive again because of Mom.”
“That’s the truth of it,” Darrow agreed, winking at Whitney. Connor was already asleep upstairs, but the rest of them had gathered close to the fire, drawn by the promise of stories. The golden sparks spiraled up into the night air, adding magic to the moment.
Quinn lounged in one of the armchairs, trying to look uninterested but clearly waiting to see what would happen. The lad would be leaving for college soon, and Darrow made a mental note to have another talk with him before he went.
“Are ye recording, lass?” Darrow asked Sophie, who gave him a thumbs up from behind her camera.
“Rolling!” she confirmed. “Between Gary’s stories from earlier and now yours, my followers are going to love this Alaska ghost series.”
“Gary?” Wyatt shook his head, though his mouth twitched with amusement. “The pilot who swears he saw Bigfoot three separate times?”
Sophie grinned. “The very one.”
Darrow settled deeper into his chair, letting his accent thicken with the rhythm of storytelling. The fire crackled, sending more sparks dancing upward as he began. “What I’m about to tell ye happened in the winter of 1898, right here in Skagway. The gold rush was at its peak, and men were desperate enough to try anything to strike it rich.”
A log in the fire shifted suddenly with a loud pop, making several people jump. Sophie’s hand flew to her chest, and she unconsciously moved closer to Wyatt. Darrow hid his smile, catching Whitney’s knowing look. Their guests were properly hooked now.
“There was a prospector named Thomas Sullivan,” Darrow continued, his voice rolling with the cadence of old Ireland. “He was one of the few who’d actually found gold—enough to make him a wealthy man. But greed, ye see, it does strange things to a person.”
He paused, noting how everyone had leaned forward slightly—even Wyatt, though the ranger probably didn’t realize he’d done it. The warmth of his secret joy mixed with the pleasure of holding his audience spellbound.
“Sullivan had a partner, James McKenna. They’d worked the claims together for two years, but Sullivan got it into his head that he deserved all the gold for himself. One night, high in these very mountains, he waited until McKenna was sleeping and...” Darrow let the silence stretch. “Well, let’s just say McKenna never woke up.”
“I’ve read about this case,” Professor Manning interjected excitedly. “The historical records show?—”
“Hush now,” Whitney said gently. “Let him tell it.”
Darrow shot his wife a grateful look, seeing again that subtle glow about her that made his heart dance. “Sullivan thought he’d gotten away with it. He came back to town with some story about McKenna heading off to try his luck elsewhere. But something strange started happening. Every night when the northern lights danced, Sullivan would see McKenna’s reflection in his window. Every time he passed a mirror, there’d be McKenna standing behind him, getting closer and closer.”
Sophie was filming intently, her camera steady despite her obvious excitement. “What happened to him?”
“They found him three days later, halfway up the mountain in the middle of winter. He’d frozen to death, but that wasn’t the strange part.” Darrow leaned forward, letting the firelight catch his face. “They found him clutching a bag of gold nuggets—except when they looked closer, every single nugget had turned to worthless rock. And on his face...”
The wind chose that moment to howl around the lodge, rattling the windows and making everyone gasp—then dissolve into slightly nervous laughter.
“On his face,” Darrow continued, “was a look of absolute terror. And there, in the snow beside him, were two sets of footprints. One leading up the mountain...” He paused for effect. “And one that seemed to appear from nowhere and disappear into nothing.”
“That’s quite a story,” Wyatt didn’t roll his eyes, but the tone was there.
“Ah, but that’s not all of it,” Darrow replied with a gleam in his eye. “Would ye like to hear what the rescue party found when they went looking for McKenna’s body?”
Sophie leaned forward eagerly. “There’s more?”
“There’s always more, lass. In Alaska, the stories are as deep as the snow and as tall as the mountains.” Darrow settled in to continue, feeling complete. Here he was, surrounded by family and friends, his beautiful wife carrying their secret, and a ghost story on his lips. Life didn’t get much better than this.
“Now then,” he said, his voice dropping back into storytelling mode. “About that search party...”