Page 2 of Thunder Pass

Ruth weighed her answer. The task she hated the most was bringing breakfast to the men’s dorm. Why couldn’t they make their own eggs? They had a full kitchen over there. But in their minds, since only five able-bodied men were left, and they worked in the fields all day, or on new living structures, or on whatever nefarious schemes they were cooking up now, they deserved to have food prepared and brought to their door.

But she didn’t want to give that task to Sarah. All the men who were still here were just as complicit as the ones who had gone to jail. The fact that they hadn’t been arrested was just good luck. She didn’t trust them anymore. Sarah was her responsibility and she wasn’t going to let her get in trouble thanks to those idiots over there.

“You can make the bread,” she said after a long pause.

“But you like making bread.”

“No one likes doing anything all the time. It’s nice to get a break.”

Sarah nodded as she fiddled with the end of her braid. Braids were a Chilkoot thing, as were clothes handmade from the sheep they raised on the farm, or from fabric they traded for. They’d very nearly reached full self-sufficiency—until Luke had ruined it all with his crazy plans.

Of course, calling those plans crazy was heresy around here, so Ruth kept that opinion to herself.

“Is there something else?” Ruth asked Sarah as she felt around under the cabinet where Flex liked to lay her eggs.

“Have you ever kissed someone?”

Ruth reacted so quickly that she banged her arm on the bottom of the cabinet. “Why? Did someone kiss you? Does someone want to kiss you? Is there someone you want to kiss? Who? Is there a boy you’re—it has to be a tourist. Who else could it be? If someone’s been bothering you, you know where all the weapons are.”

Sarah backed away, causing flutters and cackles among the hens. “Never mind. Pretend I didn’t ask that question. I take it back. Please calm down, Auntie Ruth.”

Even though she was only eleven years older than Sarah, all the younger kids called her Auntie. That was because her role was somewhere between sister and mother.

“Just tell me why you asked and I’ll calm down.”

“Well, someone said you kissed Gunnar. I said it was a lie and they should be ashamed. But then they pinkie swore. So I just wondered.”

“That’s…” Sweet lord, where should she start? She couldn’t just say it was private. She was supposed to be setting an example for the younger children, especially the girls. An unmarried woman wasn’t supposed to be kissing men.

Sure, it happened in the books she’d found at the flea market and managed to smuggle in under a pile of uncombed alpaca wool. But those books weren’t reality—certainly not her reality. As much as she might let her imagination fly when she was alone with the chickens, when there was a real life sixteen-year-old looking at her with questions in her eyes, she had a responsibility.

But…to what?

The strict world she’d grown up with as the daughter of Luke and Naomi Chilkoot was shattered. She didn’t know anymore if she trusted the rules and strictures she’d been raised with. What were they based on? Not the Holy Bible, which people often assumed. No, Luke and Naomi had developed the Chilkoot philosophy on their own, as far as Ruth knew. But did it all make sense?

After all, what if you kissed a man and didn’t like it? Did you still have to marry him? Not that such a scenario had taken place with Gunnar. The opposite had happened.

“You’re turning red,” said Sarah. “Does that mean you did kiss him?”

“No, it doesn’t mean that. It just means...” She fanned herself with a stray work glove sitting on the hay. “It just means?—”

To her relief, a shout from the longhouse interrupted her. Sarah darted out the door to see what was going on, while Ruth gave herself a moment to collect herself.

Had someone seen her kiss Gunnar? Who could that possibly be? It had happened in the back office of his shop, and she was pretty sure the door had been closed.

Was Gunnar telling people he’d kissed her?

A flush of anger welled through her. He was probably laughing at her, telling the story like a joke.

The ballroom filled with laughter as word spread from one party guest to the next.

“And then she assumed we’d get married.” The words echoed like the mocking call of a grackle. Titters of derision followed her as she ran out of the ballroom, blinded by humiliating tears.

Basket in hand, she ran toward the longhouse, as others broke off from whatever they were doing to see what was going on.

A truck she didn’t recognize was pulling into the clearing. That was unusual in and of itself, as everyone knew the Chilkoots didn’t welcome uninvited strangers. Just to hammer the point home, recently Jared and Uncle Ted had installed No Trespassing signs every fifty yards along the drive. The messages ranged from civil—“Private Property”—to hostile—“Intruders Will Face No Mercy. Signed, Smith and Wesson.”

The guard dogs were jumping and barking around the truck. They didn’t recognize it either. Dread clutched at Ruth’s stomach. If any of the Chilkoot men overreacted and shot someone, they’d be in for another wave of attention from the State of Alaska. She might lose custody of the kids. As much of a burden as that felt like at times, she knew she was the only person standing between them and utter uncertainty.

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