Worthy of Riches (29 page)

Her hand closed around a small evergreen, and her feet struck a shelf. She stopped with a jolt. She didn't move for several moments, lying flat against the cliff face. She gulped in air, fearing for her life. She peered over her shoulder, and her stomach dropped. The ledge she stood on was only a foot wide, and below lay a deep chasm. She hugged the rocks, resting her face against the jagged stones.

“Lord, help me.” She searched for a way to climb up, then grabbed hold of a rock and pulled while pushing with her feet. The rock came loose and tumbled into the chasm below. Tears of fear and helplessness filled her eyes. She started to shake and felt faint. “I need to sit,” she said, carefully sliding down until she was sitting. She closed her eyes.

“Jean! Jean!” Ray called from above, his voice panicked.

“I'm here!”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. But I can't get back up. I'm stuck.”

“Hang on. I'm coming.”

Jean wondered how he thought he was going to help. She turned to look up but nearly tumbled off the narrow refuge. Pressing her back against the rock wall, she held completely still and waited. She could feel the sting of cuts and scrapes and the ache of battered limbs.
Please hurry, Ray. Hurry.

A
rope fell from above and slapped the rocks beside her. Bits of rock and dirt tumbled from above. Jean could hear Ray's heavy breathing as he made his way down.

Finally she heard him just above her. “I'm here, Jean. I'll get you up.” His voice sounded gentle and calm. “I'm going to lower myself down to
you, and then I want you to cinch this rope around you. I'll show you how.”

He managed to maneuver down until he was beside her. “You all right?”

“Yes. Just scared. I'll feel a lot better once I'm back on top.”

He made two loops in the rope and showed Jean how to put it around her and between her legs. She slipped one arm at a time through one loop, and then while trying to get her leg through the other, she lost her balance. Ray grabbed her, holding steady. With a tremulous smile, she pulled the rope tight around the top of her thigh. It wasn't comfortable, but it would hold her more securely while he pulled her up.

“I'm going up, and then I'll pull you up.”

“Please hurry,” Jean said, unable to keep her voice from quaking.

With an encouraging smile, Ray started up.

Clinging to the rope, Jean watched him climb. He made his way slowly but steadily, searching for tiny handholds and shelves to wedge his feet.

When he reached the top, he called down. “I've got the rope secured. I'll pull while you climb. Use your feet and hands like I did. Don't be afraid. The rope will hold you. You won't fall.”

“Sure, don't be afraid—do it like he did.” Jean glanced down and shuddered, then because she had no other alternative, she began. Her fingers sought places to grip, and her feet pushed against outcroppings and propelled her upward. More than once she lost her hold and swung away from the rocks. For a few moments she would huddle against the cliff, sucking air and rebuilding her courage, but with Ray pulling from above, she managed to make the top.

Ray grabbed her under the arms and pulled her over the rim. For a long while she lay hugging the ground. When she sat up, she had to fight off tears. Looking at Ray, she whispered, “Thank you.”

He wore a broad smile. “You scared me. When I saw you disappear over the edge, I thought you were gone for sure.”

Jean looked at the meat she'd tossed to safety. “Well, I managed to save the meat,” she chuckled.

“You did at that,” Ray grinned. “I can't wait to tell the guys.” A brisk wind whipped across the bluff. “You able to make it back to camp?”

Jean pushed herself upright. She was weak and trembling. “Aside from a few bruises and scratches, I think I'm fine.”

Ray looked across the valley toward the mountains where dark clouds were pushing toward them. “We better head down. I'd say those clouds are carrying snow. I wouldn't want to get stuck up here.”

He turned to go, but Jean stopped him by resting a hand on his arm. “Thank you. You saved my life. You didn't have to climb down and get me.”

“Yes, I did. No self-respecting man would have done otherwise. I couldn't take a chance of you putting on that harness wrong.” His smile faded. “I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you.” He acted as if he were about to reach out and touch her face, but instead he said, “Let's go before that storm catches us.”

JEAN GRIPPED THE STEERING WHEEL AS SHE BUMPED UP ADAM AND Laurel's snow-covered driveway. When she stopped, Laurel stepped out her door, fastening the last button on her coat, which stretched over her protruding stomach. Jean smiled. In less than two months her first grandchild would be born.
If only Will were here,
she thought sadly.

Laurel took the steps carefully and walked to the truck, waddling a little like a plump goose. “Good morning,” she said as she opened the door and slid in while Brian shuffled Susie onto his lap.

“Careful with that arm,” Jean said. “Just 'cause you got the cast off doesn't mean it's good as new.”

“The doctor said it is,” Brian responded.

“Hi, Laurel,” Susie said, wearing a bright smile, her cheeks pink from the cold.

“Hi.” Laurel gave her little sister a quick kiss and patted Brian's head. “How are you all today?”

“Good,” Brian said, then without taking a breath, he asked, “Do you know if John is going to be there? 'Cause if he's not, I won't have anyone to play with.”

“I saw Adele at the store yesterday, and she said the boys would be there,” Laurel assured her brother. Laurel looked at her mother. “It's cold.” She rubbed her gloved hands together for emphasis. “But I need to get out. A quilting at Mrs. Prosser's is just the thing.”

“I'm already tired of the weather.” Jean shifted into reverse and backed up the truck. “It's been too long since I've gotten together with my friends. Back in Wisconsin the ladies used to meet all the time.”
Heading down the driveway, she glanced at the gray sky. “Looks like we're in for more snow. Hope it's not an all-out blizzard.”

“Adam's holed up in his little corner of the house, writing. I don't think he even noticed I left. He was a little curious about quilting parties though.” She grinned. “Probably hoping to find an angle for another story.”

“Is that going well? Is he getting work?”

“Yes. Pretty regularly now. The readers love stories about Alaska.”

“Well, this quilting is about neighbors helping neighbors. He could write about that.”

“How is Mrs. Fletcher feeling?” Laurel asked, settling back in her seat and resting her hands on her belly.

“Edna's still feeling poorly, but she's ninety-eight years old. I s'pect we'll lose her before winter's passed. Hopefully this quilt will lift her spirits.”

“I can hardly believe she still lives on her own.”

“Her children and grandchildren do a lot for her.”

“Mrs. Fletcher looks real old, like maybe a hundred and twenty,” Brian said. “I've never seen anyone with so many wrinkles.”

“Brian!” Jean said, taking her eyes off the road for just a moment to frown at her son.

“But she's real nice,” Brian quickly added. He brooded a moment, then added, “She does have a lot of wrinkles.”

“She does, Mama,” Laurel said with a grin.

Jean smiled and nodded. “I suppose she does.” The truck slipped sideways, and Jean gripped the steering wheel, struggling to control the slide. When the pickup straightened, she relaxed slightly. “I'm still not very good at this. I liked it better when your father drove.”

“You're doing fine, Mama. It's good that you drive. Lots of women do nowadays. Adam said after the baby's born he'll teach me.”

Still gripping the wheel and keeping her eyes straightforward, Jean smiled slightly. “Good. Then you can drive for me.”

When they arrived at the Prossers', Brian and Susie ran ahead and knocked on the door. John Jenkins opened it, and the children disappeared inside.

Wiping her hands on an apron, Norma Prosser stepped onto the
porch. “Good morning. How nice to see you. Come in before you get frostbitten.” She draped an arm around Laurel's shoulders. “You're looking wonderful. How are you feeling?”

“Just fine,” Laurel said, stepping into the house.

Jessie, who had been in the middle of saying something, stopped and smiled at the latest arrivals. Miram Dexter and her mother, Margarite, looked at Laurel and Jean and nodded their greeting.

Adele Jenkins stood. “Hi, neighbor. Good to see you.” She smiled.

Mattie Lawson smiled and nodded.

Jean was happy to see that Mattie had been included. It was just like Norma to think of inviting the native girl. She'd been struggling to fit into a woman's world and a white world.

“How are you feeling, Laurel?” Jessie asked, approaching the newcomers.

“Good, just big. The doctor says the baby and I are doing very well.” She smiled and rested a hand on her stomach.

“I miss seeing you every week, dear.”

“I'm feeling fine and could come by and work on organizing some of the chapters.”

“Oh, no.” Jessie patted Laurel's hand. “I decided that until the baby gets here, you're to take it easy. We've got plenty of time to finish that book.”

Norma took their coats and carried them into a bedroom. When she returned, she asked, “Are you ready for a hot cup of tea?”

“Sounds good,” Jean and Laurel said simultaneously.

Miram stood and walked across to Laurel. Crinkling up a cheek to readjust her glasses as she often did, she said, “You must be so excited. It won't be long now. Sometimes I dream of what it will be like to be a mother.” Her voice sounded shrill and nervous as always. She leaned closer and said softly, “Are you scared?”

“A little. I've never been a mother before.”

Miram sniffled and dabbed at her nose with a handkerchief. “Thank goodness for Dr. Donovan. I'd hate to think of having a baby way out here without a doctor.”

Norma handed Laurel and Jean each a cup of tea, then returned to her place at the table. “All right, ladies. We can chat while we work. We still have a lot of work to do on this quilt.”

Laurel and Jean sat on either side of Miram, the only free places at the table, which wasn't unusual. People didn't dislike Miram, but she almost always reeked of camphor, which she used to relieve her nasal congestion. Jean smelled it immediately and turned away slightly. She noticed Laurel had done the same.

“I've always been so fond of crazy quilts,” Adele said, pushing a needle through the material.

“This one's special,” Norma said. “The pieces of material came from Edna's children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren's clothing. Every time she uses it, she will be wrapped up in memories.”

“It's snowing again,” Adele said with a sigh. “I'd hoped it would hold off.”

“It's just barely coming down, and the wind's not blowing,” Miram said. “We have nothing to worry about.” She gave her mother a sidelong glance as if waiting for a reprimand. Margarite didn't even look up from her work.

“We've already had quite a winter,” Jessie said, “one of the snowiest I can remember for this early in the year.” She sat back, letting her hands rest on the quilt. “I'm grateful for all the help Adam and Ray have given me. Why, between those two, I have enough wood to keep me warm through two winters.”

Margarite looked up and lifted an eyebrow when she glanced at Jean, then returned to her sewing.

Norma took a sip of tea. “Jessie, you still working on your book?”

“Not right now. I can't do much without Laurel.” She smiled at the young woman. “I figured that with her time so near it wouldn't be a good idea for her to be traipsing back and forth to my place, especially with the weather being so cold.”

“I'm perfectly fine. The doctor said so. And he said walking is good for me,” Laurel explained. “I'd love to start on it again.”

“Oh, no. I definitely don't agree with that,” Margarite clucked. “You need to take care with that little one. Why, I remember when I was expecting Miram I had to go for water every day in the dead of winter, right up to the last days. I know that's why she came early. It had to be the cold and all that walking.” Her eyes rested on her daughter. Miram nervously dabbed at her nose. “I've often wondered if all
that walking and cold and being born so early might have something to do with her nasal troubles.” She leveled a serious look on Laurel. “I caution you, young lady—no walking—and stay out of the cold.” She sniffed and sat straighter in her chair. “You can never be too careful, you know.”

“I'll be careful,” Laurel promised.

“Well, I can't believe that a brisk walk in cold air will hurt anyone,” Jean said. She smiled at her daughter. “Seems to me, the stronger you are the easier things will go for you.”

Her mouth pinched, Margarite turned dark eyes on Jean. “Hmm, well I must say I've always heard that cold weather and exercise are to be avoided when one is in her condition. My mother did a good job of raising me. I never had a sick day in my life, not until we moved up here.” Her eyes still on Jean, she tipped up her chin. “I'd say she knew a good deal more than you, Mrs. Hasper.”

Jean could feel a retort on her tongue, but she knew better than to try to win an argument with Margarite Dexter. The woman never backed down. Working hard to maintain a calm exterior, Jean took another stitch. “Well, I suppose we all have to be careful when it comes to being outside in this weather.”

It was too late. Margarite's fire had been lit. “I heard Ray Townsend's been over at your place quite a lot lately,” she said with the acid of accusation.

Jean kept sewing and said evenly, “Yes, he has. Since Will died, Mr. Townsend has been very kind and helpful.”

“I also heard you and him took a trip into the mountains together …just the two of you.”

Jean knew where Margarite was heading. She pushed her needle into the material and looked at the woman. “We did. Mr. Townsend was kind enough to take me hunting.”

“And you brought back a nice ram, didn't you?” Norma interceded, her voice a bit tight.

“Uh-huh. I shot it myself. The meat will be important to us this winter.”