Free Ashes and Ice by Tracie Peterson Page B

coffee and saw a smile of satisfaction as the stranger wrapped his fingers around the warmth of the cup.
    “How marvelous.” He drank for a moment, then added, “I suppose you already have a gold mine?”
    Adrik laughed. “No. I’d say my people found more gold in salmon fishing and furs.”
    Dyea Joe passed by in silence, dropped a small package beside Adrik, and entered the tent directly behind the stranger. This drew the man’s attention immediately. “Are these your packers? We hired a few, but the cost was draining our funds and there are still tariffs to pay.”
    “No. They’re actually distant family members. And good friends.” Adrik picked up the pack and unwrapped several pieces of dried salmon. Joe was offering the stranger food for himself and his companions. “This is jerked salmon. Eat some yourself and take the rest back to your friends.”
    The man nodded and snatched the offering quickly, as if Adrik might change his mind. Eating as though starved, the man alternated between sips of coffee and mouthfuls of jerky. When it was gone, he fidgeted nervously with his mustache, his gloved fingers pulling off pieces of ice that had become encrusted above his lip. For several moments Adrik actually wondered if he’d somehow offended the man. He seemed strangely quiet after having been so lively moments ago.
    The stranger took a deep, long drink, then turned to Adrik. “So you trust these Tlingits?”
    “With my life,” Adrik replied.
    “Our packers told us to stay away from the Scales and the summit. Said the snow is unstable. What do you make of that?”
    “I make it as the truth, mister. That’s the reason we’re camped here. The weather has been too varied. We had a fierce snowstorm a few days back, then an icy rain. Then it dumped another few feet of snow. After that it warmed up, melting things a bit. It makes the snow on the mountains unstable. Slides are guaranteed.”
    As if to emphasize Adrik’s words, a rumbling could be heard in the distance. It didn’t last long, but Adrik knew it was a slide. “You hear that? That’s the sound of snow barreling down the mountain. You don’t want to hear that sound and be in the path of it. There’s nothing you can do to get out of its way.”
    The man stood, looking rather alarmed. “My family—my friends. They’re up there now.”
    Adrik shook his head. “I can’t tell you what to do, mister, but you’d do well to get them back down in this direction. It’s only the second of April. There’s plenty of time to get north. I wouldn’t start back up until the Tlingits do likewise. They’re pretty good about figuring these things out.”
    Another rumble sounded, and even though Adrik knew these small slides were probably not stealing away life in the night, he also knew they were precursors of things to come.
    “Thank you for your hospitality. I must go.” He handed Adrik the cup and tipped his hat. “You were most kind.”
    Adrik saw the panic in the man’s eyes. He understood his fear and could only pray that it might keep the younger man from death’s clutches. Healthy fear had a way of doing that. If a person listened to that quiet little voice, a nudging of the Holy Spirit, Adrik’s mother used to say, then a person could often avoid a great deal of misery. Adrik had tested that theory and knew it to be true.
    With a yawn, Adrik gazed upward to the dark mountainsides before settling in for the night. The ominous sense of death surrounded him, leaving him uneasy. He began a wordless prayer, pleading with God for the protection of those who were exposed to danger. He also asked God’s blessings on Karen Pierce before he crawled into the tent and fell almost instantly asleep.
    Around two in the morning a commotion awoke Adrik. He soon realized that the alarm announcing an avalanche was being sounded in the small village. Uncertain where the trouble was, Adrik pulled on his boots and coat to go in search of the problem and offer