She sighed. Why did everyone keep telling her there was no need to worry? She’d be a lot less worried once they were safely back in Sitka, sitting in the Caldwells’ warm parlor and drinking some type of fancy, imported tea from a porcelain teacup.
“We found a way back to the river.” Richard stepped forward, his dark eyes surveying the snowy mountains surrounding them. “I didn’t realize how much snow you had up here. We’ll leave tomorrow at first light.”
“I was just telling Bryony I’d like a couple more days here.” Her father approached them. He and Dr. Ottingford had followed her around the shore of the lake at a much more sedate pace. He leaned in and gave Richard a quick hug, then pointed toward the far side of the lake. “I’ve yet to catalog the northeast corner of the valley.”
Richard made a small tsking sound and shook his head. “Look around you, Atticus. Surely you don’t want to be trapped here over the winter.”
Her father scowled. “Are you going to bring me back to this valley again next summer? I can hardly return to the Smithsonian without having fully cataloged my findings. The shade and morning light will be different on the other side of the lake, and that could impact the lichen growth. It’s imperative that I have at least one more day, but in order to guarantee a thorough report, I’d prefer three.”
Heath let out a sigh. “You’re not going to get three days, Father. You have this afternoon. We have to hike down this mountain, then travel over two others before reaching the river, and we need to reach the river before the snow comes. Now can I get a hug?”
Father’s lips were still twisted into a scowl, but he leaned forward and gave Heath a brief hug before turning to Dr. Ottingford. “We best get to work, Walter. Bryony, I want you with me. You’ll need to sketch as much vegetation as possible, and Walter will collect samples. I’ll have to analyze our specimens and try to complete my report back home.”
Her father turned and started around the lake. Bryony would have followed, but Richard stepped in front of her, tall and dark, the side of his mouth tipped up in a lazy half smile. “What about me? Do I get a hug like your brother?”
Her throat turned tight. There was a time she would have hugged Richard without a thought. She’d spent most of her childhood hugging him or gripping his hand or bumping him while they both bent down to study the same insect or shrub or fallen leaf.
But that was before everything had grown so complicated.
She glanced over to find that her father had stopped walking, apparently curious enough to see how she would greet Richard that he’d put his research on hold for a few minutes. Heath was watching them too, and so was Dr. Ottingford.
Bryony shifted, feeling suddenly hot as she looked back at Richard, even though her light-wool coat wasn’t thick enough to shield her from the cold air. “I’m glad you returned safely, and it seems you found a way back to the river, but where’s the rescue party?”
She’d expected members from the rescue party to appear from the trees at any time and had assumed Heath and Richard were simply the first to pick their way through the narrow canyon that afforded entrance to the valley.
But they’d been standing by the lake for several minutes, and no one else had appeared.
“Please tell me you made it back to that Indian village,” she whispered to Richard. “Please tell me you got help.”
Richard flashed her a confident smile—one she’d trusted as a girl but wasn’t so sure she trusted anymore. “You’re father’s right. You worry too much.” He reached out and patted her shoulder. “That’ll change once you’re my wife. I’ll see to it you don’t have reason to worry about a thing.”
She pressed her lips together, half tempted to argue about whether she’d one day be his wife—she wouldn’t—but that wasn’t going to get them back to safety any sooner. “None of that tells me where the rescue party is. That’s the whole reason you left us, remember? To get help.”
“We left you to find a way back to the river, Sis, which we did.” Heath sidled up to her, wrapping her in another hug from the side. “We didn’t need to go all the way back to the mouth of the river for help. We found our canoes and marked the trail back through the mountains. As long as we leave before the snow comes, everything will be fine.”
“But—”
“But nothing, Bryony.” Her father’s voice echoed over the lake. “Get the journal. I need your help on the other side of the lake.”
She glanced at her father, then moved her gaze back to Heath, and finally to Richard. He’d spent two whole winters in Alaska, living with the Athabaskans just after he started working for the Department of the Interior. He’d survived those winters just fine. In fact, he’d survived them so well that he’d returned to Washington, DC, and written a book about it that made him famous.
He didn’t seem worried about not having an official guide now.
Nor did anyone else. Perhaps she was getting too worked up. Perhaps things would be fine now that Heath and Richard had found a way back to the river. Perhaps she was fretting over nothing, and they’d be off the mountain before the snow came in earnest.
“You still look worried, and I don’t like it.” Richard reached out and trailed his thumb along her brow, which had no doubt been wrinkled as she’d studied their surroundings.
Heath chose that moment to drop his arm from around her, giving Richard the perfect opportunity to step in and wrap her in the hug she didn’t want.
He smelled of wool and mountain air and fancy cologne, like money and wilderness mixed together.
“I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I?” He probably intended his question to be reassuring, just like his hug, but it only made her feel more trapped, like she was nothing without him.
That very well might be the case, but she wasn’t ready to admit it just yet.
“Bryony! Now,” her father shouted. He’d marched halfway around the lake by this point, and she could feel his glare boring into her skin.
She tried to step away from Richard and follow, but he tightened his grip around her.
