“That’s not true.” Bryony raised herself onto her knees, then reached out, gripping his cheeks between her hands so he had no choice but to look into her eyes. “If you hadn’t found us, Richard wouldn’t be the only one dead. We’d never have been able to get back to the Iskut River once the snow came. You’re a good man, Mikhail Amos, and you’re the reason the rest of us are still alive. Don’t let what happened today convince you otherwise.”
She leaned even closer, and before he realized what was happening, her lips brushed his cheek, soft and warm and feather-light.
He froze beneath the touch, not sure whether to wrap his arms around her and hold her to his chest until the sky lightened with dawn, or shift his head so that her lips met his mouth, or pull away from her.
Whether to believe what she said—that Richard’s death wasn’t his fault, and he was the only reason the rest of them were still alive.
But it didn’t matter, because before he could decide to do anything, she pulled away from him, gave him a soft smile, then told him to go back to sleep.
20
They reached the river just before lunch the next day. The sight of it caused Bryony’s eyes to burn in a way they hadn’t when Richard fell to his death. Just a few weeks ago, she wondered if she’d ever see the Stikine or Iskut Rivers again, if there was any chance she’d make it back to Washington, DC.
But here the river was, swift and strong as the Iskut flowed north through mountains and forests until it finally reached the Stikine and flowed into the ocean.
Mikhail wasted no time getting them settled in their canoes. He barely gave them the chance to snag a few bites of jerky while he loaded everything into two of the four canoes. They’d be leaving the other two on the bank, the one Jack Ledman had taken, and the one Richard had used on the way in. But Mikhail didn’t seem concerned.
They had one goal and only one goal now: to paddle down the Iskut before it iced over.
After a few minutes of discussion, Mikhail decided that she, Heath, and Dr. Ottingford would ride in one canoe, and her father, the trunk, and Mikhail would take the other.
Though he didn’t say anything about the canoes being too heavy after being loaded with everyone plus the trunk and their other supplies, she could tell he didn’t like it. But Mikhail was the only one proficient enough to handle a canoe by himself, and he didn’t trust her or Father or Dr. Ottingford to steer one from the back. So they all piled into two canoes and set off just after lunch.
The air seemed colder than the day before, and even though Mikhail had said it would be raining at the river, the rain had changed to snow. But at least the river valley was shielded from the winds they’d fought while crossing the mountains, and the snow drifted from the sky in lazy flakes rather than fierce ones that had obscured their vision.
Everyone seemed happy to be on the river. Or at least everyone except Heath. He sat in the back of the canoe, rhythmically dipping his paddle into the water without saying so much as a word.
They’d been in the canoe for an hour or better before she finally turned to him. “You’re awfully quiet.”
“Don’t much feel like talking.” Heath kept his eyes pinned to the shoreline as he dug his paddle back into the water.
She tried to offer him a smile. “I assume you’re upset about Richard, and I want you to know that I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” Heath narrowed his eyes at her. “For someone who just lost her fiancé, I’d expect you to be a little more distraught.”
She stiffened. “First, he wasn’t my fiancé. And second, I’m plenty distraught.”
Except she wasn’t. She hadn’t even cried over his death, but Heath was processing the loss differently than she was. His eyes had been wet for most of the hike to their camp spot yesterday evening, and that morning he’d gone off by himself while the rest of them had eaten breakfast.
She couldn’t blame her brother for being upset. Richard had been his best friend for over two decades. They’d known each other since they were boys, and Richard had even gotten Heath a job with the Department of the Interior.
“I just wish Richard had listened to Mikhail yesterday. Then maybe he would still be alive.”
“And I wish Amos had been next to Richard when he lost his footing, like he should have been,” Heath snapped.
She twisted around for a better look at her brother. “You’re upset Mikhail didn’t stop Richard from falling?”
“He’s the most famous explorer in Alaska. It’s his job to keep everyone safe.”
She stiffened. “Which he would have done had Richard actually listened instead of rushing onto the bridge and then stopping. Mikhail told him to keep moving and look ahead, but he didn’t. Didn’t you see it? Richard just stood there, refusing to listen, until he stumbled.”
“Maybe Richard felt something about the bridge was unsafe.” Heath dipped his paddle into the water again. “We didn’t hear everything they said to each other over the gorge, only the part Mikhail shouted because Richard started to cross before Mikhail was ready.”
“That alone should tell you the fall was Richard’s fault. He didn’t listen to Mikhail from the beginning.”
“Why should he? Richard had just as much experience in the wilderness as Mikhail.”
Her hands dug into the sides of the canoe. “No, he didn’t. It wasn’t even close. Mikhail understands the land. He can build a fire in the rain and hunt for our dinner in under half an hour. The only thing Richard knew how to do was complain and look for gold. We were starving after Jack died because he didn’t have the first clue how to get food.” How could her brother even compare the two?
