Then she moved her gaze to the giant peak towering over the valley. “The snow keeps creeping lower and lower, and this morning there was a skiff of it on the ground. I spent the entire day thinking this would be the last view I ever saw.”
“You were right to be concerned. It’s unfortunate the others in your party don’t view your situation with the same seriousness.”
Now that he knew he’d been following Heath and Richard’s tracks, it was easy enough to guess what they had been up to. They’d left the two botanists and Miss Wetherby in this pristine valley and gone off in search of gold—just like Richard had done when he’d lived with the Athabaskans for two years.
Richard had probably known where the Iskut River was the entire time, and Heath might have too. While the scientists from the Smithsonian Institution were interested in studying flora and fauna, the men from the Department of the Interior might even have been sent on the expedition for the purpose of finding gold.
Even after their guide had died, Richard Caldwell had been more concerned with finding claims to stake than getting everyone to safety. The thought made blood rush hot in Mikhail’s veins.
If they didn’t make it through the mountains, if the entire party didn’t make it safely back to Sitka, he knew exactly who to blame.
6
Stupid snare. Bryony studied it from her position on the cold, hard ground, half tempted to reach out and snap the wooden frame in two.
It was set off again, but nothing was in it. It might be their last morning by the lake, but considering she’d spent weeks trying to catch a rabbit, she’d been hoping to catch at least one, even if they didn’t have time to cook it before they broke camp.
“What are you doing?” a dark voice said from behind her.
She twisted around, her heart hammering as she stared at Mikhail Amos towering over her.
He’d barely spoken a word as they’d all eaten dinner beside the fire, watching them with those intense, unreadable eyes. She’d caught him studying the mountains, the camp, even her, but never letting on what he was thinking.
And now, here he was again—silent, powerful, and entirely too close.
“You shouldn’t be this far from camp,” he said in a voice that sounded cool and controlled, holding nothing of the kindness she’d remembered from last night. “I wanted to leave twenty minutes ago. We don’t have time to spend half the day searching for you if you get lost.”
“I wasn’t going to get lost.” The words were out before she thought better of them. And honestly, it was a ridiculous thing to say, because they already were lost. Very, very lost. That’s why he was at their camp.
She expected him to say something along the lines of what had just been running through her head. But he studied her for a moment, his golden eyes taking in everything about her and the forest, seeming to see more than she wanted him to.
Finally, he said, “What’s behind you?”
Heat rushed to her cheeks despite the cold seeping through her coat. “Nothing.”
He raised an eyebrow at her, and something told her he’d stand in that very position for the next ten hours if that’s what it took to get her to show him what she was doing.
And it was stupid to do such a thing, because they truly did need to get off the mountain.
Besides, what was the point in being embarrassed? “I was trying to snare a rabbit, but I’m not doing it right. The rabbits keep setting off the snare without getting caught.”
Mr. Amos came a few steps closer, then crouched beside her, bringing their bodies entirely too close. It wasn’t proper. The heat from his body suddenly filled the cold air that had been surrounding her. Did he notice?
No. He didn’t seem to. Just like he didn’t seem to notice that his shoulder brushed her back or that a few strands of his golden brown hair fell against her coat. He was too focused on the snare itself for that.
“That’s because a fox tripped it. See the tracks there?” He nodded toward a second set of tracks imprinted on the earth.
She tilted her head, studying them closer. She hadn’t paid attention to them at first, since they weren’t as prominent as the rabbit tracks.
“A rabbit came later, after the fox had set it off.”
“So I’m doing it right? I would have snared a rabbit had it come along first?”
He looked at the snare again. “If you had, the fox would have eaten it. But I suspect the bigger problem is that you don’t have the snare set up correctly. I doubt a fox has been along to steal your rabbit every night.”
She shifted. How did he know this wasn’t the first time she’d set a snare?
“Did someone show you how to do this? Or were you trying to replicate what you’ve seen others do?”
