Well, he wasn’t really sure what else he could have done, but he might be missing something. All he knew was that if he’d been closer, he would have had a better chance of grabbing Richard when he started to fall.
And yet, if Richard hadn’t died, everyone would know about the gold vein.
Now the location of the vein was safe with him, and unless someone else tried to cross the canyon in the same spot, it might stay safe for decades.
“Thank you,” Mikhail finally said. “I appreciate it.”
“Dr. Wetherby feels the same way as I do about Richard’s death.” Dr. Ottingford popped part of a biscuit into his mouth. “Though make no mistake about it, he’d rather have Richard alive. He wants Bryony married to the next secretary of the interior, and he’d nearly accomplished it with Richard.”
“No. He said Bryony didn’t have to marry Richard.” Mikhail moved to the fire and poured himself some coffee from the percolator that had been nestled at the edge, close enough to the flames to stay warm. “Not after he hid the fact he’d been looking for gold all summer. Not after he pulled his gun on me.”
Dr. Ottingford took another bite of biscuit. “I know he said that a few days ago. But I suspect once everyone returned to Washington, DC, that would have changed. There are many advantages to having the secretary of the interior as your son-in-law. And if the next secretary of the interior is either a bachelor or a widower, then Atticus will marry Bryony off to him instead.”
A vision rose in Mikhail’s mind of a balding, fifty-something man with a paunchy stomach and thick glasses, and the thought made him sick. Bryony would be miserable married to a paper pusher. Why couldn’t her family understand that? “Is that part of what everyone was arguing about? Who Bryony will marry?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
Mikhail took a sip of coffee, letting the bitter liquid fill his mouth and coat his throat and warm some of the cold lingering inside him. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because that poor girl is talented when it comes to science, and she deserves a husband who will make her happy. Her father... Well, I’ve known Atticus for years, and he has trouble seeing anything but his own interests. But the last thing you seem to care about is yourself. I thought you should know what his plans were for Miss Wetherby, but forgive me if I’ve overstepped. Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to note a few things in my journal about the climate essays I was reading before I forget them.”
He watched as Dr. Ottingford picked up another biscuit and headed to his own bedroll, where he dug his journal from his pack. It was the longest conversation he’d ever had with the scientist. Dr. Ottingford seemed to blend into the background most of the time, but maybe that was by design.
Mikhail looked down the beach to where Bryony still sat on a solitary log, then drained the rest of his coffee, grabbed a biscuit for himself, and headed toward her.
She might not have realized it, but she’d saved his life that afternoon, and he fully intended to thank her.
And if they just so happened to discuss her father’s plans for her once she returned to Washington, DC, well, he wouldn’t complain about that either.
24
Bryony gripped the brush in her hand tightly, yanking it down her hair with more force than necessary. The action only caused her scalp to smart from the pulling, and the bristles to tangle in her hair.
She gave the brush another tug, but that just further tangled the bristles in the snarled knot near her shoulder.
She didn’t care. Not about the brush. Not about the tangled mess her hair was in after falling into the river. And not about some influential politician her father and brother wanted her to marry.
Richard had been dead only two days, and they already had a new plan for her life.
But this time she wasn’t going to listen to what they wanted her to do. She didn’t care how much they objected. She’d wasted too many years of her life thinking she’d end up married to Richard simply because her father had always told her that’s what she’d do.
Even as the years went on and she saw more of his personality, learned of his mistresses and his illegitimate child, saw how he treated people he wasn’t friends with and people who couldn’t help him get what he wanted, she’d felt trapped, like she had no other choice. Like she needed to marry Richard because he would one day hold a position that controlled her father’s research funding.
But now that he was gone...
Now that she’d met Mikhail, and he’d told her she had talents and abilities that she should develop for God and maybe even use to help others...
Now that she knew he had two sisters who had somehow made a way for themselves in professions dominated by men...
Her chest ached as she reached up and fingered the brush still stuck in her hair. Her long tresses had been a disaster even before getting into the canoe that morning. She hadn’t had time to fully brush them in the first place, and then the waves had turned her hair into an impossible mess.
She sighed, staring out at the river, large and strong as it flowed north toward the ocean.
Maybe she’d take a knife to her hair and lop it off. If she didn’t have enough hair to pull into some fancy coiffure, maybe no one would want to marry her when she returned to Washington, DC.
Then she’d find a job at... well, probably at one of the government agencies looking for a secretary or typist. There were always agencies needing women to type up reports and file papers. It sounded incredibly boring, but she had enough experience doing those things for her father that she should be able to get a job rather easily.
Or maybe she could find a job sketching plants or animals or some other such thing that a scientist like her father would find useful. She wouldn’t be working in the field of science, per se, but at least she’d be doing something she enjoyed and using the abilities God had given her.
