There was nothing remotely safe about their situation, nothing remotely safe about being trapped in a snowstorm in the middle of an uncharted wilderness.
If Mikhail wasn’t here, she’d be a mess, certain they would all freeze to death on the top of this mountain.
But Mikhail Amos didn’t seem to even consider the possibility they might not make it back to Sitka.
And that made her wonder just how many other times he’d found himself in similar situations. “What’s the worst thing that happened to you on the trail?”
“I beg your pardon?” Mikhail looked down at her, his golden eyes softened by the flickering firelight. Then his gaze drifted past her to the cave entrance, where the storm raged.
She could tell that memories were swirling in his mind, as certainly as she knew there’d be another foot of snow piled outside come morning.
“You said you’ve come close to losing people on the trail before. Did something happen on one of your other expeditions that was worse than what happened today? Oh, never mind. It was foolish of me to ask.” She scrubbed a hand over her face. “Of course worse things have happened. Everyone except for one person died on your first expedition.”
“It wasn’t my expedition.” He released her hand. “I was just there to assist, mainly because I could speak Athabaskan.”
“Was it helpful? Your knowledge of the language?” Again, she couldn’t say why she wanted to know, only that something about the strong, brooding man beside her made her intently curious.
“There was a woman. She was accompanying her husband on the trip, but he died early on.”
A woman? Like her? “Did she survive?”
“No.”
Bryony turned to look at him. “I read the account of your first expedition, but I don’t recall ever reading about a woman in the group. I’m certain I would have remembered.”
“I asked Herbert to remove her from the story. There were things that I didn’t...” He shook his head. “Things I didn’t want spoken of.”
“I’m sorry.” She pushed herself away from the cave wall, then stood. “It smells like the tea is done.”
He didn’t say anything as she retrieved the boiling liquid from the fire, then poured it into two tin cups. Nor did he say anything when she returned, holding one of the cups out for him. His mind was obviously caught in those long-ago memories of his first expedition, and she should have known better than to bring it up. No one wanted to relive a trip where half a dozen people died.
She took her place beside him, assuming they’d drink their tea in silence before heading to bed. But after Mikhail took his first sip of tea, his voice rumbled out beside her.
“Olivia was pregnant. She didn’t realize it when she left on the expedition, but it became apparent a few weeks in. Livy almost survived, and we nearly—” He clamped his mouth shut and rubbed his hand over his face.
Pregnant. Oh, dear heavens. She couldn’t imagine being pregnant and stuck in the wilderness as winter approached. “How did she die?”
“She fell into a river.” He spoke flatly, his eyes once again telling her that he was digging up memories that had long been buried. “She was strong and gripped a tree branch, and Herbert and I managed to pull her out, but...”
“But she had already drowned,” she finished.
“No. She froze to death after we pulled her from the river. I couldn’t get her warm quickly enough. I didn’t have an extra parka, and her clothes were wet. I built a fire, but...” He swallowed, the muscles of his throat working. “I didn’t know how to treat hypothermia back then. It was the first thing I asked after I got back to Sitka, but I learned too late.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” She reached out and settled her hand over his, where it rested on his leg. “You need lots of quilts and a warm fire, and you didn’t have either of those.”
“You need those in a house, yes, but not in the wilderness. In the wilderness you treat hypothermia by building a roaring fire, then having the wet person and a dry person both take off their clothes and climb into a bedroll together.”
She choked on her tea. “You’re not serious.”
“I’m very serious.” He took a sip of his own tea, his eyes pinned on the fire. “The body heat from the warm person will restore the body heat of the hypothermic one.”
“But... but... she was a woman. And she was with men. And... and you weren’t married. Don’t tell me you would have?—”
“Yes, I absolutely would have climbed into a bedroll in nothing more than my undergarments in order to save her life.”
“You would have had to marry her after doing such a thing!”
Mikhail shrugged, his grip on the mug tightening. “I wouldn’t have hesitated.”
