duffles, their hiking boots drying on rocks beside them.
Kaifongâs cheeks glowed. âWell, that sucked,â she announced.
âIâm sorry, Kaifong,â Randall said from where he stood on the far side of the fire, his voice cracking. âIâm so, so sorry, chickadee.â
She waved him off. âI shouldnât have gotten so close to the back of the boatâand I should have buckled my life jacket.â
âI never shouldâve left my seat,â Randall said, twisting his hands in front of him.
âAt least it all ended okay,â Chuck said. He glanced at the boat, where the pilot returned PFDs to the compartments beneath the bench seats. âAbout ready to head back across?â he asked Kaifong.
âIâm not sure I want to go back out to sea so soon.â She pressed her hands between her knees and gazed at the roiling water of the open lake beyond the mouth of the arm before turning to Chuck. âWhat about you?â
âIâm staying. But it wasnât me who almost drowned.â
Randall said to Kaifong, âDonât you think you should have a doctor check you out?â
âWeâve been waiting two years to get into the backcountry,â she replied. âWeâre finally here.â
She shifted on the log to face the upper Yellowstone River valley rising to the south, mile after mile of pristine forest broken by grassy meadows, every bit of it devoid of human development. Groves of whitebark pines climbed the sides of the broad valley, blanketing ridges that swept upward to alpine tundra studded by snowcapped peaks.
Janelle, standing behind Chuck, said, âThereâs still plenty of daylight. We can call in a med-evac if you have trouble on the hike to campâin which case, youâll be choppered out instead of having to go back out on the lake.â
âOnce the boatâs gone, thereâll be no radio,â Chuck warned. âSomeone would have to make it to the cabin to use the satellite phone before any evacuation could happen. Thereâs no cell phone service out here.â
âOr,â Janelle said, âshe could press the button on her emergency beacon.â
âTrue, I suppose,â Chuck said. âAs a last resort.â
A horse whinnied from out of sight in the forest to the south, followed by a pair of whinnies in response.
Janelle cocked her head at the sound of the horses. âMaybe you could ride to camp,â she told Kaifong.
âMe? Ride a horse?â Kaifong shook her head. âNever. Those things terrify me.â She reached for her boots.
âItâs four miles,â Chuck warned her. He pulled the map from his pack, flipped it open, and showed her the trail winding upstream east of the river. âNot steep, but uphill all the way.â
âIâll be fine. Iâm sure of it.â
A string of ten pack horses, their saddles empty, emerged from the woods. A mounted wrangler led the string, reins loose in his leather-gloved hand. A second wrangler brought up the rear. The two horsemen, square-jawed and middle-aged, wore Stetsons low over their eyes, their faces shadowed in the afternoon sunlight. The horses made their way along a well-trodden path toward the pier.
âGuess Iâd better get to it, then,â Randall said.
He left the fire and worked alongside the others, placing the duffles, storage kegs, and plastic cases from the gear boat in an orderly line, ready for loading on the pack animals.
Kaifong stood up after lacing her hiking boots. âThank you,â she said to Chuck as he tied his own boots, still damp from their dunking in the lake. âYou saved my life.â
He looked up at her from his seat on the log. âGlad I could be of service.â
Beyond the pier, Clarence and the girls stood at the edge of the lake. They skipped rocks toward the Molly Islands, two rounded humps of sand and stone rising out of the southeast