“You seem upset about something, Amos.”
Miss Wetherby turned Mikhail’s direction, finding where he stood under the low-hanging bows of the spruce.
“I noticed you two talking on the trail earlier.” Richard came up and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, his gaze still pinned to Mikhail. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to steal my fiancée away?”
“I’m not in the market for a wife,” Mikhail gritted, but the hairs on the back of his neck prickled at the notion of Bryony Wetherby—or anyone, really—marrying Richard Caldwell.
“Stop it, Richard.” Miss Wetherby shrugged away from Richard’s arm. “We’re not engaged, and you know it.”
“The two of you should get married in the spring.” Dr. Wetherby gave a determined nod of his head, as though he hadn’t even registered his daughter’s objection to Richard. “That way you can have time to acclimate to married life before we leave on the expedition next summer.”
She threw up her hands. “I’m not going to Yosemite Valley. I already told you. The expedition leaves before I’ll?—”
“I agree.” Richard flashed a condescending smile at the scientist. “If Secretary Gray retires, I won’t be going on the expedition next summer, and neither will Bryony as my wife. That will be too long for us to be apart.”
Her eyes shot little hazel sparks at Richard. “I’m not?—”
“Right, right. I keep forgetting about that.” Dr. Wetherby scratched the side of his head. “I do hope you get the position after Gray retires. You’ll be quite good at it.”
“The position? You mean, secretary of the interior?” Mikhail blurted. He hadn’t met Secretary Jacob Gray personally, but the rest of his family had. The man had toured Alaska just a few months ago with two senators who wanted to see the land firsthand.
And why wouldn’t he? Secretary Gray was in charge of Alaska in every way possible. As secretary of the interior, he alone was responsible for appointing Alaska’s governors.
No one had said the man was in poor health or planning to retire.
“My, my.” Richard made a tsking sound. “You don’t look very happy about this, Amos. Have a problem with me becoming secretary of the interior, do you?”
“Can’t think of a worse man to fill the position,” Mikhail gritted.
Richard straightened, bringing himself to his full height. “Be careful. My father’s a senator.”
“Do you think I care? Because I don’t.” That, and he was tired of members of the Caldwell family throwing their names and positions and titles around as though it somehow made them better than everyone else.
But unfortunately, the Alaska Commercial Company, which the large and sprawling Caldwell family owned, had made everyone in Richard’s extended family filthy rich. Richard’s second cousin, Preston Caldwell, lived in Sitka managing the ACC, and Mikhail’s own family had had several run-ins with the man who thought nothing of hunting Alaska’s seal population into extinction.
Back in August, Secretary Gray had actually named Preston’s brother, Simon, the next governor of Alaska.
Richard wouldn’t know that, though. He’d been traipsing around the wilderness when the former governor had resigned.
Was all this some kind of plan? To have one member of the Caldwell family be secretary of the interior and another be governor of Alaska, all while earning profits from the Alaska Commercial Company?
Mikhail didn’t want to think about how many of Alaska’s natural resources would be exploited if Richard Caldwell became secretary of the interior, nor did he want to think about how much richer every member of the Caldwell family would become, or how much more power the family as a whole would amass.
“We should probably start dinner before it gets dark.” Miss Wetherby offered the group a tense smile. “Mr. Amos, did you have something specific in mind to eat, or do you want us to eat pemmican and biscuits? I’m happy to make some again if you give me the flour.”
“I... ah...” Mikhail blinked. “Biscuits. Right. Let me get the flour.”
“I don’t understand, Amos.” Dr. Wetherby scratched the side of his head, causing a tuft of snowy white hair to stick out. “Why don’t you want Richard here to become secretary of the interior? He’s spent the past decade working for the department. He’s gone on numerous expeditions to catalog natural resources in remote areas, and his father’s position as a senator means Richard has an excellent understanding of the administrative tasks and paperwork that go with the position. He’s the perfect man to fill the role.”
“Yes, Amos, why don’t you want me to be secretary of the interior?” Richard sent him another mocking smile.
“You probably don’t know it, being all the way up here in Alaska, but Richard is quite famous back in Washington.” Heath jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at Richard. “He’s published several books.”
Mikhail’s jaw clenched even harder, but he forced himself to keep his mouth shut.
“Yes, yes,” Wetherby blustered. “His first book was about the Athabaskans living along the Yukon River in Alaska’s interior. I’m surprised you haven’t read it, being an expert on Alaska yourself.”
“I’ve read it,” Mikhail finally gritted. About two years before it was published, and then again after the book had gone to press and everyone was talking about it.
