Page 48 of I Do, I Do, I Do
“I’ll buy you that cup of coffee at the top,” Bear called, giving her a jaunty wave. He focused a doubtful scowl on Juliette before he, too, strode away.
Clara found Zoe at the scales staring up toward the summit with shock and dread. “I’d rather sail around the world than make that climb,” she whispered when Clara asked if she was ready.
Clara knew how to get her moving. “Juliette is already in line.”
“What?” Zoe swung around, squeezing her eyes into a glare. She swore for a full minute and then sighed heavily. “Damn it. Is she with Ben Dare? Is she attempting this to impress him?”
“I didn’t see Mr. Dare.”
“Damn,” Zoe said again, infusing a volume of feeling into the word. She stamped her boot in the snow and ground her teeth together. “I cannot tell you how much I detest Jean Jacques! I hope he goes straight to hell after I shoot his butt.”
“Before you can shoot him, we have to find him. That means we have to climb Chilkoot Pass.”
Clara fixed her gaze on the antlike line toiling upward, and her heart fluttered. A word of encouragement from Bear would have been welcome. But like Juliette and Zoe, he appeared to assume that Clara had no fear. Sturdy ole Clara, that apple-cheeked workhorse, she would make the climb, don’t worry. Well she was scared to death that her legs would give out midway, or that she’d lose heart, or slip and slide to the bottom in a pile of broken bones. Heights had never been her forte.
Silently, she watched a man walk toward the line with a dog draped around his neck and shoulders. The incline was too steep for animals, the sled dogs had to be carried over the pass. Most of the men would make that horrible climb seven or eight times with at least a hundred pounds on their back.
“All right,” Zoe said, her teeth and fists clenched in determination. “Let’s climb that bastard.”
“Go ahead. I’ll be along in a minute,” Clara promised, as Zoe stomped away from her toward the toll line.
She would have run naked through the snow in front of everyone before she would have admitted that right now she had less courage than Juliette and Zoe. Reaching deep, she searched for the willpower to make herself join the line.
***
Climbing Chilkoot Pass was the worst experience of Juliette’s life. The absolute worst. Altitude thinned the air she fought to suck into her lungs. Her feet and hands were so cold they tingled. All she could see was the seventy-five-pound pack carried by the Indian woman directly in front of her. She couldn’t see ahead and didn’t know why the line stopped moving every now and then. Like everyone else, she seized those moments to rest and try to regain her breath. But then she became aware of her calf muscles knotting and twitching in violent protest against the grueling climb. When the line moved forward again, her legs were shaking and her back ached. Her throat hurt, her chest heaved, she couldn’t breathe.
She couldn’t do this.
Staggering, she stepped out of the line and sat in the snow, digging her heels in to prevent an undignified slide to the bottom. Lowering her head over her knees, she gasped for breath, trembling in every limb.
She had no idea how long she’d been sitting, guiltily aware of the line struggling past her, before Zoe dropped into the snow at her side. But it was long enough to get thoroughly chilled even though she had drunk all of her hot tea.
“I’m dying,” Zoe gasped between gulps for air. “I ache all over. This pack weighs a million pounds. I swore I wouldn’t thank you for paying Tom the major share of our packing fees, but I thank you. If I had to climb this again, I’d shoot myself.”
“I tell you, I didn’t—”
“Just remember I said I’m grateful.”
It was hopeless to argue. “At least it’s stopped snowing.”
She didn’t know why she said that. Whether it snowed or not wouldn’t make the ice stairs shorter or less steep. She didn’t say anything more for five minutes, silently praying that Zoe would say, “Let’s slide to the bottom and go home. Let’s forget about Jean Jacques Villette.”
What Zoe said instead was, “Look. There’s Tom, carrying a dog on each shoulder.”
When Tom spotted them resting, he stopped, halting the men behind, and wordlessly beckoned them back into line in front of him. Zoe muttered under her breath and then stepped onto the ice stairs. Tom looked at Juliette and waited.
Pride brought her to her feet and reluctantly back into line. It cheered her somewhat to climb past men who had fallen out to catch their breath. She wasn’t the only one experiencing grave difficulty. But she began to doubt that she could reach the summit. Her lungs couldn’t pull in enough air, her leg muscles burned, and her feet steadily became too heavy to lift to the next step.
She went as far as she could, then she fell out of line again, giving Tom an apologetic look as she dropped down in the snow, sweaty and gasping hard for breath, half believing that she was having a heart attack. Now it was a long way to the bottom and the possibility of sliding down frightened her, but she decided she could do it. She had to do it because she simply wasn’t strong enough to make it to the summit.
“On your feet, woman,” a voice boomed. “You’ll catch your death if you let yourself get too cold after sweating.”
For a minute she thought she was looking at a monster. Then she recognized Bear’s eyes peering out of a gray greasy mask.
“I can’t,” she whispered, shaking her head. Exhausted tears of defeat glistened in her eyes.
“I’ll help.” Catching her hand, he jerked her to her feet and back into line. Then she felt his huge hands on her buttocks, pushing her up to the next step.
