Richard’s presence on the botany team was the reason Mikhail had chosen to guide a team of scientists sent to study the Kuskokwim River rather than the botanists headed up the Stikine. The interactions he’d had with the man over a decade ago were enough for him to know that everyone in Alaska would be happiest if he and Richard were thousands of miles apart.
When tasked with finding the lost expedition team, he’d known he would run into Richard, but that still didn’t stop every muscle of his body from coiling tight now that they were staring at each other.
“I caught this man here spying on us,” the woman said, gesturing to Mikhail.
Mikhail moved his gaze away from Richard, who was holstering his gun, and surveyed the group. “Where’s Jack? Is he hunting?”
Everyone froze, their gazes slowly finding each other in a way that made Mikhail’s muscles tighten even more.
“How do you know Jack?” The redheaded man stepped closer.
“They’re fellow guides.” Richard finally spoke, his lips twisting into a subtle sneer. “This is none other than Mikhail Amos, and I assume he’s here to rescue us.”
“The explorer?” the redheaded man’s eyes widened, and he swept his gaze down Mikhail.
Mikhail tried to hold back a wince. Did the men he’d been sent to rescue have to recognize him? He’d rather people not have the first clue who he was.
A grin broke out on the redheaded man’s face, and he extended his hand. “Heath Wetherby with the Department of the Interior. I’ve read your articles. It’s an honor to meet you.”
“I’m Heath’s father, Professor Atticus Wetherby, head botanist for the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, DC.” The man with snowy white hair stepped closer and held out his hand for Mikhail to shake. “This is my daughter, Bryony, who’s assisting her brother and me on our expedition.” The scientist gestured toward both the woman and the redheaded man—evidently not her husband. Now that he knew they were related, Mikhail could see their similarities, and they were both named after English plants. White bryony was a vine that produced berries, if he recalled correctly, and heath was a shrub that grew in the moorlands and produced purple flowers in late summer.
Perhaps Dr. Wetherby had worked in England before taking a position with the Smithsonian Institution. Or maybe he had an English heritage.
“I’m Dr. Ottingford, Dr. Wetherby’s associate.” The middle-aged man with the balding head reached out to shake his hand. “I must say, I’ve read all of your articles too, and it’s an honor to meet you.”
“Thank you,” Mikhail mumbled, then shifted his gaze to Richard, but the other man didn’t offer his hand. It was just as well. Mikhail had no interest in pretending to play nice.
“Did the Department of the Interior send you to find us?” Miss Wetherby stepped forward and extended her own slender hand.
Rather than shake it as he’d done with the men, Mikhail twisted it until her hand rested atop the side of his and tilted his head toward it. It felt small and dainty beneath her gloves, far too breakable. “Technically, it was the governor’s office. Governor Caldwell grew worried when you didn’t return to Sitka by the first of September as planned.” He dropped her hand, then scanned the group again. “Now who wants to tell me what happened to Jack?”
“Oh, ah... about Mr. Ledman...” Dr. Wetherby scratched the back of his head.
“It’s quite unfortunate, that.” Dr. Ottingford’s brows knit together above his bony nose.
Heath slanted a glance at Richard, but Richard shifted, refusing to look in Heath’s direction.
Miss Wetherby was the only one who met his eyes directly. They were hazel, like the warm tones of honey swirling in tea. “There was a bear attack, and we couldn’t do anything to stop it. It happened over ten weeks ago.”
“A bear that attacked only one person and left the rest of you unharmed?” Mikhail rubbed the back of his neck.
“Mr. Ledman wasn’t with us.” Again, Miss Wetherby was the one to answer. “He was out hunting. Richard heard his screams and ran to help, but it was too late.”
“I came as soon as I heard his screams.” Richard swallowed, his sharp eyes clouding for a moment. “I don’t know if there was anything we could have done differently.”
“There likely wasn’t, not with a bear, and especially not if it was a sow with a cub nearby.” Mikhail’s voice came out sharper than he intended. He wasn’t angry at Richard but at the whole mess. He’d grown up with Jack. They’d chased each other through the mountains of Sitka more times than he could count. Jack was a good man and an excellent guide—and now he was gone.
But that was the way of things in Alaska. Life here was harder than life in other places. There was always something waiting to snuff it out. A bear, a storm, a falling tree. It only served as a warning for what might come their way if they weren’t careful.
A gust of wind chose that moment to sweep into the valley, and he raised his eyes to the sky, where thick, dark clouds gathered.
He didn’t like the look of them, but it was too close to nightfall to pull up camp now, not with all the scientific specimens they’d need to pack before transporting them.
Dear God, please hold back the snow for a few more days.That was all he needed, just long enough to get the team over the trio of mountains separating them from the Iskut River, where it was more likely to rain than snow.
“Pack up your specimens tonight. We leave first thing in the morning,” he said to the group.
Dr. Wetherby held up a finger. “Are you sure we can’t stay another day or two? I’m not quite finished with my research.”
