8. Under the Snow
Awall of snow and ice surged toward us.
Time seemed to slow. A great sheet of white slid down, parts of it shattering into spray as it plowed over boulders, sending great plumes of ice into the air. The roar grew louder, the very ground beneath my feet beginning to tremble.
I needed to move—to climb, to get above the inexorable path of the vast sheet of snow bearing down on me. But my feet refused to budge, as if they were frozen to the narrow path. My breath seemed to stop, and the world slowed even farther. Every instinct screamed at me to stay still, not move, as if the avalanche was a hunting beast that might pass me by unawares.
The roar was deafening now, and for a moment, I would have sworn I heard beneath it the shrill blast of a train whistle.
Then it struck me, and the world turned white.
I tumbled wildly, up and down changing places until I no longer knew which was which. Snow pressed against my closed eyes, packed my nose, and jammed into my mouth. The immense force swept me up, and I could do nothing to fight it.
It was the train derailment all over again.
The snow slowed, then came to a halt. I tried to force the packed snow from my mouth, or to shift my arm in the direction I hoped was up, but I might as well have been sealed in concrete. Already my lungs begged for air—I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
“Save me, Colin,” Bessie said in my ear.
I tried to scream for help, but succeeded only in choking on the snow forcing its way down my throat. My lungs felt filled with glass, and despite the cold I thought I heard the crackle of flames.
A hand grabbed my wrist and pulled.
My shoulder broke through into free air, then my face. I rolled onto my side, spitting out snow, while two pairs of hands tried to clear the rest of the snow from me.
“Colin!” Steve brushed a clot of snow from my hair. “Where’s Pa?”
My heart plummeted. “He—he was just behind me?—”
Steve snatched up what looked like a broken shovel handle and began to probe the snow, all the while shouting Roland’s name. As he did so, Doug slipped an arm under my shoulder. “Come on—we need to get you warm.”
“We have to help Steve,” I said weakly, even as my teeth began to chatter. The avalanche had stuffed snow up sleeves and trouser legs, down my collar, any crevice it could pack into.
Doug ignored my protest and urged me back to the well-tramped path above. Other men rushed past us, hurrying to help those still trapped. The great ribbon of climbers had been broken in the center, only those at either end remaining, all else a blank canvas of tumbled white studded with the remains of outfits and men.
“Where’s Roland?” Anna called as Doug helped me up. “Is he…is he dead?” She didn’t sound as devastated as I might have expected—the shock, no doubt, leaving her numb for the moment.
“Steve will find him,” Doug said firmly. “Help me get Colin to camp.”
As soon as Eleanor caught sight of me, she ordered me to change into dry clothes. I was shaking so hard at that point, Doug had to help me. Once I was dressed, she asked, “Do you have any numbness anywhere? Pain?”
My body felt bruised and battered, but I’d been on the very edge of the slide, and hadn’t suffered its worst effects. Eleanor put me as close to the fire as I could bear, then poured a hot cup of coffee. “Drink that. It will help warm you from the inside.”
“Roland?” asked Anna.
I looked up, to spot Steve helping his father to the camp, assisted by another man. Roland’s face was bruised, and he didn’t put any weight on one foot, but he was alive.
He even managed a ragged smile for his wife. “It’s me, love. I wouldn’t leave you like that.”
“Warm, dry clothes,” Eleanor said briskly. “Are you injured?”
Roland winced as Steve thanked the man who had helped him, who left to go look for more victims. “Aye—my ankle feels broken. I think it hit a rock.”
“Put him down by the fire and I’ll take a look.”
Blood soaked the top of his boot, and he let out a muffled groan when Eleanor eased it off. I turned my attention to the fire, afraid the bone would be sticking out. “The fibula—the bone that forms the outer ankle—is broken,” she said after a few minutes. “And there’s a bad laceration near the break—your pants are torn, too, so I assume it was the sharp edge of the rock that you struck. I’ll stitch it closed, then bind the ankle.”
Steve rose to his feet, a relieved expression on his face. “Thank God. Since Pa’s going to be all right, I’m going to help with the rescue efforts. Doug?”
Once Roland was resting comfortably by the fire, his foot held immobile by layers of bandages, Eleanor continued to put her nursing skills to good use. She bandaged more broken limbs and treated frostbite on a dozen men and one child.
But after the first hour or so, the number of survivors dwindled rapidly, and soon it was a matter of digging out bodies and carrying them down to Sheep Camp for burial.
When it grew too dark to see, Steve and Doug returned to the fire. Thankfully the rain had departed, and as the last of the clouds faded from the sky, the aurora appeared as dancing sheets of green and white.
One by one our party dropped off to sleep, until at last only Steve and I remained awake. My body ached and I needed rest, but I knew from experience that every time I closed my eyes I’d feel again the surge of the avalanche around me.
It had been like that after the train derailed. At least this time, I hadn’t watched anyone die.
I fed a twig into the fire, then glanced at Steve from the corner of my eye. Dark shadows circled his eyes, and he already seemed more grizzled than when we first met on the docks that day.
“You helped save my life,” I said, keeping my voice low so as not to disturb anyone else. “I haven’t thanked you for that yet, so…thank you.”
He ducked his head. “Doug helped, too”
“I’m glad Roland’s all right. Well, not exactly all right, but…”
“Not dead,” he finished. “Me, too. The trail’s going to be hard on him going forward, though.”
For some reason the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. “You mean to go on, then,” I said, and tried to keep the relief out of my voice. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet.
Steve stared up at the aurora streaming overhead. “We can’t stay here and wait for him to heal—winter is on its way, and getting caught without shelter on the trail might be the end of us. As for going back, Lake Lindeman is much closer than Dyea. Once we reach the lake, we’ll be able to travel the rest of the way by boat.” He shrugged. “There’s nothing to do but go on.”
I stretched out on my bedroll, as close to the fire as I could get. “Just wait until we’re in the gold fields pulling out a hundred dollars a pan,” I said, hoping to cheer him.
“Yeah.” He stretched out as well; our heads were close together and I could just feel the heat of his breath when he spoke. “You’re right. Once we have the gold, this will all have been worth it.”
* * *
The next morning, the sun rose on a sight that lifted all our hearts.
To our backs, the pass had been largely cleared, and once again a string of men crawled up the Chilkoot like ants. But ahead of us…
The world opened up, revealing the vast wilderness to our wondering eyes. The land gave way, down, down, down from the pass, the fingers of glaciers reaching out toward the flashing creeks and small lakes. The valleys below flamed with autumnal color, trees wreathed in scarlet, orange, and gold. In the distance gleamed the long stretch of Lake Lindeman, the first in a series of lakes that would take us to the Yukon River itself. Ravens glided on the wind, their mournful croaks echoing from the ice-slicked rocks.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmured, tin cup of coffee in hand as I gazed out at the path laid before us.
Steve came up beside me. “Yes, it is,” he said, but his eyes weren’t on the horizon.
Heat stung the tips of my ears, but I gave him a smile. God, he was handsome.
I never dallied with anyone I knew for longer than a night. I’d meet a man at a saloon, either go back to his room or, if that wasn’t an option, find a convenient alleyway. Then we’d part, never to set eyes on one another again.
What else could I do, when everything in my life was a lie?
If there had been any chance at privacy, though, I’d have made the exception for Steve.
Unaware of my thoughts, he turned back to the others and raised his voice. “Listen, everyone—I have a proposal. We’ve worked well together on the trail. Why don’t we make our partnership official? Travel together to the fields, stake claims side-by-side, and help each other out?”
Doug stood up from his place by the fire, catching my eye. He brought one hand to his coat, toying with the top button.
It was an old signal, one that meant it was time to wind a swindle down and leave.
But Steve was beside me, breath steaming in the cold air. He smelled like campfire smoke and spruce trees, underlain by musk, and the combination tugged at me like a lure.
Maybe this once, I could make an exception after all.
“That sounds like a great idea,” I told him, deliberately looking away from Doug. “We’ll take a look at this Coffin Bone Creek, see if we can find Bill. If the place doesn’t suit us, we can always find a claim somewhere else.”
Eleanor ladled out the last of the oatmeal she and Anna had cooked for breakfast. “I agree. The more hands, the more skills, we have, the better off we are.”
Roland sat with his injured leg stretched out before him. He glanced at Anna, then at me, then Doug, seeming strangely uncertain. After a moment, though, he nodded. “All right,” he said gruffly. “But don’t worry—I mean to pull my weight. A little thing like a broken bone won’t stop me!”
I risked a glance at Doug now. He was far too experienced in deception to let any of his true feelings show on his face. Instead, he grinned pleasantly, gold tooth bright in the morning sun.
“Excellent idea,” he said, because one of the strictest rules of any scheme was to follow the other’s lead in front of the mark.
Despite his bold words, Roland slowed our progress greatly. Steve fashioned him a crutch from branches, but even with it Roland couldn’t move at anything like a normal pace. Nor could he carry a pack on his back, which forced the rest of us to distribute the weight. He tied a rope connected to our lightest sledge around his waist, his face flushed as he struggled to drag it behind him.
It was going to take us twice as long as it should have to reach Lake Lindeman. And the days were getting shorter fast. We couldn’t afford to waste any time if we were to get to the gold fields and stake a claim before the rivers froze.
When we stopped for the night, Doug took my arm. “Colin and I will find wood for the fire,” he said. “Steve, can you get the tents up?”
Steve agreed, while his father settled by the fire with a groan. We headed off in the twilight, searching for fallen branches that hadn’t already been snatched up by others on the trail.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Doug asked in a low voice, once we were well out of earshot.
I’d expected the question, spent the day pondering my answer. “They’ll be useful,” I said, rather than the more accurate we need them. Doug hated the idea of needing anyone. “Steve knows how to build a boat—and yes, I know that guidebook of yours has instructions, but nothing compares to actual experience. Our boat will need to take us all the way to Dawson, through lakes and rapids and God-knows-what.”
“Assuming we make it that far, now that we’re chained to an injured man!” Doug glared at me. “We have to get a cabin built by the time winter sets in, or else we’ll freeze!”
“And do you think Eleanor would leave him behind?” I countered.
“I could have talked some sense into her. At least before you and Steve made plans of staking claims side-by-side.” He bent and picked up some more wood for the fire. “We don’t need more eyes on our business.”
So he still meant to steal from Eleanor.
Now wasn’t the time to argue on that point. I’d have the entire winter to change his mind, after all. Instead, I gave him the answer I knew would capture his interest. “More hands equals more gold. Would you rather leave with what two men can drag out of the earth—or what four can?”
I half hated myself for even making the suggestion. It was one thing to swindle people we didn’t know, but the idea of working through the winter at Steve’s side, talking with Roland and Anna each day, then robbing them of their hard work, made me ill.
It wouldn’t come to that. I’d spend the next few months softening Doug’s heart. This was just a temporary lie to get him to agree.
“Assuming Roland can work.”
“He’ll have plenty of time to heal once we’re on the boat,” I cajoled. “Aren’t we here to seize our opportunity? Then why not make it the biggest opportunity possible?”
He was silent for a long moment. “All right,” he said eventually. “What’s done is done. But if winter sets in and we get caught out in it, it will be your fault.”