Page 20 of Thunder Pass

He’d also feared that if he left, his father might come back and find him gone, and they’d never see each other again.

He walked Charlie out of the garage, into the fresh pure mountain air. The ridge known as Firelight Ridge was lit up by the afternoon sunshine, the alders and lupine giving it a vivid purple glow. So familiar…and yet suddenly, unfamiliar.

Questions were flooding through him, questions that had percolated unspoken for years.

Why had his father chosen this place in particular? Why had he raised Gunnar so far outside what might be considered “normal”? Gunnar had hung out with enough tourists to know that his childhood was unusual. He didn’t care—he was happy with life, happy with who he was and where he was.

But that didn’t answer the question—why?

“Listen, Charlie,” he murmured as she was about to hop onto her bicycle. “Can you please keep all this to yourself?”

“Of course.” Then she hesitated. “It’s hard to keep things from Nick. Not only is he a professional investigator, but he knows me really well.”

Crap. It was probably a lot to ask, to keep a secret from your significant other. “If you tell him, can you make sure he knows I don’t want this getting out? Not until I can sort it through in my head.”

“Absolutely. One thing about PI’s, they know how to keep secrets. And Gunnar…” She touched him lightly on the arm. “Everyone in this town cares about you and would have your back in a second.”

“Except the Chilkoots,” he said automatically, thinking of what his father had said.

She didn’t get it, of course. “I don’t know about that. I’ve seen how Ruth looks at you.”

Ruth. He hoped his reaction didn’t show on his face—his worry for her, his wish to see her walking into his garage.

All of that felt very distant right now. He had other things to deal with.

Right now, there was no room for anything in his life except this massive mystery that had just landed in his lap.

10

It took a solid month for Ruth and Sarah to feel comfortable leaving the safety of Martha’s farm. In the meantime, they plunged into the work of helping Martha with her herd of Merino sheep. Spring was the busiest time on the farm, since it was both lambing season and shearing time.

Ruth loved getting to know the gentle creatures, with their luxuriant fleece that had built up over the winter. After the shearing, sometimes in the evenings they had time to do some dying and spinning. Working with such soft fibers was a joy.

On the more laborious side, there was the constant task of repairing the fence lines. Predators—wolves and bears—were always a threat to the flock. Every year Martha lost a certain percentage of her sheep to the wilderness.

“Part of the risk you take, living out here,” she explained, as they walked down the fence line in their tall mud boots. Sarah was busy working with the woofers, three young women from Australia, on some guesthouse repairs. “But it’s got its benefits too. People pay a premium for Alaskan Merino wool. I ship all the way to England. I’m hoping you’ll take over my airstrip delivery runs, once you feel okay going into town.”

“I’ll get there. Any sign of trouble for us yet?”

“Not a peep. Well…”

“What?” Alarmed, Ruth stopped her with a hand on the sleeve of her corduroy work jacket. “Did something happen?”

“It’s not about you. There’s just…a lot of new people coming through town.”

Ruth relaxed against the nearest fence post. The electricity was off while they worked on the fence line, but normally, a constant current ran through it. “It’s the summer tourist season. Sightseers, backpackers, rock climbers, you know, people with time to do fun things.”

Martha snorted. “Kinda wondering what that’s like, are ya?”

“Oh, I’m used to working.”

“I know you are,” Martha said gently. Ruth knew that Martha worried about her, that she wanted her to “have a life,” whatever that meant. “Anyways, that’s not the kind of people I mean. These are different. They’re tough-looking, like soldiers. They walk through town like they own it. And some of them don’t even speak English.”

“What do they speak?”

Martha shrugged. “I keep my distance. I overheard some of ’em at the general store, placing orders. One talked to Kathy, the others just roamed the aisles like none of the rest of us were even there.”

“Well, where are they staying? Maybe they’re just picking up supplies, then hitting a trail somewhere.”

---