Page 54 of Thunder Pass

“So are we doing this?” he asked.

“Yes. I know a trail not far from here that leads to the compound. We can sneak into the chicken coop. You can hear a lot from there.”

26

When they reached the edge of the clearing where the longhouse was located—her home for the first twenty-seven years of her life—Ruth caught her breath in shock. Gone was the usual assortment of rusty work vehicles. Instead, a fleet of camouflage trucks and high-powered ATVs took their place. Not a single kid was running around the yard, as usually happened when someone new arrived. Not even a dog came running out to bark at them. A strange, tense atmosphere hung over the entire place.

“It doesn’t feel like a family anymore,” she said softly. “It feels like…”

“An armed camp?”

She nodded sadly. Even though everything had changed after the FBI raid, the farm had still felt like home. Not anymore.

“I don’t see anyone around,” said Gunnar as he scanned the clearing with his binoculars.

“Neither do I. Come on, stay close behind me, and stay low.”

They silently scurried the short distance to the chicken coop. To Ruth’s eye, it looked neglected. Eggs still hadn’t been collected, and no one had refreshed the straw in the laying boxes. Maisie’s tail feathers look bedraggled, poor thing. That eerie quiet didn’t quite extend to the hens. They squawked at the sight of her, then quieted down when she tossed them some feed from the container near the door.

“I wonder what’s in those trucks?” Gunnar murmured as he crouched under the window of the coop, binoculars aimed at the vehicles. “Where are all the men?”

Ruth checked the position of the sun in the sky. “They’re never here this time of day. At this hour, it’s just my aunts working on the midday meal.”

“And the kids?”

“I don’t know.” It worried her that the kids were nowhere to be seen. Maybe they were all inside the longhouse?

“I’m going inside,” Ruth said suddenly.

“What? No!”

“It’s just my aunts, and they won’t hurt me. They might even tell me something helpful.”

“Ruth—”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll keep them distracted and you can check the trucks.”

Before Gunnar could argue any more, Ruth dipped out of the coop and dashed across the clearing into the longhouse. It almost felt like traveling back in time, or like a dream she’d nearly forgotten. For a moment, she was seven again, or eleven, running across the grass toward home.

But any hopes of a happy reunion were dashed as soon as she stepped into the kitchen. She found all three of them—Magda, Carrie, and Saffron—there, as she’d expected, although it looked as if they were cooking for three times as many people as usual.

None of them were aunts by blood. All three women had joined the Chilkoot community along with their husbands, and taken on child-rearing tasks, kitchen duty, and whatever other specialties they’d brought with them. Aunt Magda had been a nurse, so she tended to all medical crises. Aunt Carrie had grown up on a farm herself, so she was an expert at raising and butchering livestock. Aunt Saffron had taught Ruth how to make clothing; she’d always been Ruth’s favorite auntie.

But not even Saffron spared Ruth a smile as she hovered in the doorway of the kitchen. No one greeted her. No one said a word. Complete freeze-out.

What now? How to explain her presence?

She cleared her throat. “Hello, everyone. I’m…uh, here to see Luke, does anyone know where he is?”

“No,” Auntie Magda said shortly, which told Ruth that she did know, but wasn’t supposed to say. “You shouldn’t be here. You made your choice. You should get out of here before he knows you’re here. You’re dead to him.”

Aunt Magda’s choice of words sent a chill down Ruth’s spine. Dead to him? That seemed extreme. She was still his daughter, wasn’t she? “I came to get his permission to marry.”

Thank goodness for that backup cover story.

“No need, since you’re not part of the family anymore.” Aunt Carrie brushed past Ruth carrying a bowl of peeled potatoes. Despite herself, Ruth felt tears rise to her eyes. Could she really just be booted out of a family she’d spent twenty-seven years with? How callous could they be?

“He’s still my father.”

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