Worthy of Riches (6 page)

“I'm counting on bringing home a salmon,” Adam said, sliding in behind the steering wheel. He started the engine, shifted into first, and headed for the river.

“It's early in the season for kings, but I've heard they've been pulling a few salmon out.” Luke smiled, staring at the road as it disappeared beneath the front of the truck. “I've been fishing this spot since we moved here. We ought to catch something.”

“I got up too early to show up at home empty-handed.”

“No guarantees,” Luke said.

The two rode in silence the rest of the way. Adam longed for bed. He couldn't shake his weariness and preferred to be snuggling with his beautiful wife.

“Slow down. This is it,” Luke said, pointing to a wide place on the side of the road. “There's a trail that leads down to the fishing hole.”

The two grabbed their gear and headed for the river. Damp foliage wet their pant legs. Even if it wasn't good for fishing, Adam would have preferred sunshine. His feet skidded on wet grass, and he fell hard on his backside. He quickly found his feet. “There isn't a better trail?”

“Nope. That's why this is a good spot. Most folks don't use this hole.” Luke moved on, undeterred by the steep, slippery track.

Adam hurried after him.

Finally they broke through the brush and stood above the river. In a foaming swirl, it tumbled over rocks. “The fishing hole is down here,” Luke called over the roar of the water. He clambered over downed trees and through heavy brush, finally stopping at a place where the rapids emptied into a broad pool.

Adam sat on a boulder to catch his breath. “I'd better get me a fish,” he said with a grin. “This is a lot of work.”

“This is the first place Alex brought me when we moved here. And you will catch fish. It's a good spot.” Luke set up his rod and reel. “I'll see if I can hook into one of those early kings.”

“I'll try for a trout, and we'll see who comes up with a fish first.”

Luke grinned. “All right. Sounds good to me.”

“You get a hook into one, and I'll change gear and bait,” Adam said, casting out his line. He watched the bait bob across shallow rapids and settle in the pool, then he leaned against a fallen spruce. It felt good to be still.

The forest was alive with the calls of birds searching for mates. Squirrels, grateful for spring, chirped and darted across the ground, then up tree trunks and out onto sturdy limbs. Leaves rustled, and a sharp crack sounded in the woods above them. Their tranquility momentarily interrupted, both men turned to look. Neither spoke, waiting to see what might emerge. More crackling resonated from the forest, then moved upriver. Something was making its way through the underbrush.

When it was quiet again, they settled back to fishing. “What do you think that was?” Adam asked.

“Hard to say. Could be most anything.”

Adam pulled in his line, cast it, watched it bob over the froth, then find the pool and settle. As he reeled in and recast, he caught movement in the water. The long, sleek body of a river otter broke the surface, a fish in its mouth. Its fur slicked back, the animal shuffled up the bank and settled down to enjoy its prize.

“Hey,” Adam whispered to Luke. “Look.”

“Well, how about that. At least we know there are fish here. I haven't even had a nibble.”

“Me neither,” Adam whispered, keeping his eyes on the otter. Just as he spoke, he felt a tug on his line. “I've got one,” he called, yanking on the pole. Unhappy with the intrusion, the otter picked up its meal and disappeared into the bushes.

Adam's pole bent, and his line zinged as the fish ran. “Feels like a big one!” He pulled hard, cranking the reel, then leveling the pole and hauling on it, reeling again as he dragged it upward. The fish broke the water's surface, wriggled in midair, then splashed back into the river.

“A grayling! And a big one!” Luke called.

Adam kept working the fish, pulling it closer to the bank. “This one's got a lot of fight in him.” The fish splashed out of the water, battling to free itself.

“Be patient,” Luke said. “He'll tire, and you'll get him. Keep playing him. He'll come to you.”

Adrenaline pulsed through Adam as he worked the fish, gradually pulling it closer and closer. He imagined Laurel's pleasure when he returned with the prize.

Adam teased the trout into the shallows, and Luke clambered into the water with a net. “Get him over here by me,” he hollered, holding the net just above the water. The fish flashed past him, and in one quick motion, Luke scooped it out. Cradling it in the net, he said, “It's a big one. Real fine fish.”

Adam joined Luke and disentangled the fish from the netting. Hefting the large-bodied trout, he asked, “How much you think? Five pounds?”

“At least. More than enough for a good meal.”

Adam removed the hook, knocked the fish in the head with a club, then kneeled in the shallows to gut and rinse it. He held it up and admired it. It wasn't flashy, but it was beautiful to him. He felt good— better than he had in days.

I need to stop worrying about what I've lost and be thankful for what I've gained. I have a good life here
—
a beautiful wife, spectacular countryside, great fishing and hunting, and most of all, good people. The life I left in Chicago doesn't exist for me anymore. This is what matters.

Suddenly he realized he was living a life some people dreamed about. A quiet voice said,
Maybe you should tell people what it's like to live in this place. After all, you're a writer.

The voice was clear. It hadn't been his imagination, had it? He couldn't get it out of his mind. Outsiders might be interested to hear about life in the Alaskan wilderness.

He cast his line again, excitement catching hold of him as he imagined all the stories he could tell.

JEAN SPREAD BUTTER ON THE BREAD, THEN ADDED SLICED HAM AND CHEESE and topped each sandwich with another slice of bread. Sighing, she gazed out the kitchen window. Heavy clouds veiled the mountains. She'd hoped for sunshine for the Colony Day Picnic. It felt like winter.
We'll just have to wear our coats,
she told herself, slicing the sandwiches and deciding that nothing would ruin the day.

Will came up behind Jean and caught her around the waist. “So, what goodies do we get today? Any cake?”

“Yes. Chocolate. Your favorite.” Jean nuzzled against him and rested the back of her head against his chest. “I wish it was warmer.”

“We could stay home,” he whispered in her ear.

Setting the knife on the countertop, Jean turned and gazed up into her husband's blue eyes. Her heart turned over. He could still send her pulse racing. “Sounds tempting.”

Will kissed her. “We could send the children with the Lundeens.”

Jean laid her cheek against Will's wool shirt. “We can't. Susie and Brian would have a fit. You know how much they love these picnics.” She chuckled. “Brian told me he's going to win the sack race this year for sure. He's been practicing. The last couple of days he's been hopping back and forth between the garden and the barn. Said that way he'll be all practiced up and ready to win.”

“We certainly can't miss that,” Will said with a grin.

Brian bounced into the kitchen. “I'm ready to go! My hair's combed, my teeth are brushed, and I've even got on clean underwear.” He grinned.

Blonde-headed Susie followed her older brother. “Ready,” she said,
holding a wad of green yarn in her hands, which stretched out behind her.

“Oh, Susie,” Jean said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Where did you get that?” She took the yarn and started rewinding.

“She got it off your dresser,” Brian tattled. “I saw her do it. She pushed the chair up to the bureau and climbed up.”

“You saw her?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why didn't you stop her?”

Brian frowned and shrugged.

Will raised an eyebrow and smiled. “No harm done.” Using his good arm, he picked up Brian. “I heard you've been practicing for the sack race.”

Brian nodded. “Yep. I'm gonna win!”

“I'll be watching.” Will set the boy on the floor. “You and Susie feed the chickens, and then we'll head out.” He bent and kissed Susie's blonde curls. “I'll pack the blankets and fishing gear while your mama finishes making our lunches. We ought to be ready just about the time you two finish.”

“All right.” Brian started for the door.

“Don't forget your sister,” Will said.

With a look of annoyance, Brian held out his hand. “Come on.”

“Brian, get your coat. It's cold.” Jean grabbed Susie's off its hook by the door and helped her put it on.

“I want to go to the picnic,” Susie said.

“We will. Just as soon as the chickens are fed.” She patted the little girl on the fanny. Susie took Brian's hand and allowed him to lead her out the door.

“S'pose I ought to get to it.” Will stopped at the door. “Where'd Luke get off to so early?”

“You know him. He set out for Alex's first thing. They planned on doing some fishing. We'll see them at the lake.”

“I don't doubt that. I've never known either one of them to pass up a meal.”

“I don't recall your letting many pass you by.”

Will stepped back into the kitchen and crossed to Jean. Pulling her into his arms, he gazed into her eyes. “That's only because you're such a
fine cook.” He kissed her. Looking at her adoringly, he added, “I believe you're more beautiful today than the day I married you.”

“Oh, go on. I know better,” Jean said, smiling and tucking back a loose strand of hair. “Now, scoot. I've got work to do.”

With a wink he headed outside.

When they reached the lake, Will pulled the pickup to the side of road. The picnic area was already crowded. Children waded in the shallows, but many simply stood shivering, their lips tinged blue. Adults, bundled in coats, watched, and some crowded around a bonfire; others roasted frankfurters skewered on sticks.

Glancing at the youngsters in the water, Jean pulled her coat closer. “That lake's got to be freezing. How can those children stand it?” She looked at her own two. “No swimming for you. It's too cold, and I don't need you sick.”

Brian's expectant expression crumpled into a pout. “It's not cold,” he protested.

“It is.” Jean glanced at Will who looked as if he might dispute her ruling. “Will?”

“We'll have to see. Maybe it'll warm up later.”

Sulking, Brian headed toward a group of his friends.

“Looks like a lot of homesteaders are here. Do you think there'll be trouble?” Jean asked.

“No reason why there should be.” Will lifted the picnic basket from the truck. “Folks have been getting along pretty good, for the most part.”

“A lot of the homesteaders are still mad about us living in the valley, especially that Mr. Townsend. Nothing would make him happier than to see all the colonists leave.” She nodded toward the big man. “He's here.” Wearing a buckskin coat and well-worn jeans, Ray Townsend stood warming himself at a bonfire, along with several other homesteaders.

“No matter what Ray Townsend may think, he's not bigger than God,” Will said. “We don't need to worry about him or the others; God will see to us and the rest of the folks in this valley.”

“Yes, but he didn't make us puppets. Every person has a mind of his own; whether to hate or to love is up to us.”

“True, but I believe folks will find a way to get along.” Will's eyes roamed over the people gathered. “Anyway, looks like most are stickin' to their own friends.” He handed the basket to Jean, then lifted Susie out of the pickup and set her on the ground.

The little girl spotted her sister. “Laurel,” she called and ran for her, arms outstretched.

Jean draped two blankets over her arm and headed for Laurel. “She sure misses you.”

“I miss her,” Laurel said, gathering Susie up in her arms.

Will grabbed his pole. Gazing at the dark ceiling of clouds, he said, “Looks like rain.” A mosquito landed on his arm and drilled. He slapped it. Another settled on his other arm, and one buzzed his head. “Maybe if we stay close to the fire the mosquitoes will stay away.”

“I doubt it. They're determined.” Jean walked back to the truck and took netted hats out of the back. She handed one to Will. “Seems the children are oblivious to the pests,” she said, planting a hat on her head and pulling the netting over her face. Will swatted another bloodsucker. Jean raised an eyebrow. “You might have less trouble if you put on your hat and coat.”

“I don't like wearing them,” he said, putting on his hat, then grabbing his coat out of the truck and shrugging into it.

Laurel scratched a welt on her cheek. “We saved a place down by the lake.” With Susie still in her arms, she moved toward their picnic spot.

Watching Laurel with Susie, Will said, “The kids have grown so fast. Susie's not much of a baby any more. Before we know it, she'll be grown and married too. And then it'll be just the two of us.”

Jean leaned against her husband. “We've got a while yet. Brian's only eight, and Susie's not even three.”

Taking Jean's hand, Will followed Laurel. Adam walked up from the lake and met them.

Jean gave him a quick hug. “I've been meaning to come by. I've just had so much to do, what with Will still trying to catch up after being off work so long.”

“How's that hand?” Adam asked.

Will reached out his arm, straightened his fingers, and then bent them, the stub of a finger moving along with the rest. He repeated the
movement a couple of times. “Feels pretty good. Nearly good as new, minus a finger. It takes a little getting used to. And my fingers are still kind of stiff. The hand is weak, but the doc says it won't take long to get back the strength.” He flexed the hand again, then let his arm fall to his side. “I'd say I've got a lot to be grateful for. And it sure feels good to be working again.”

“Yeah, I'll bet. I didn't know farming was so much work,” Adam said, patting Will's back. “I've got my hands full at our place.”

“Thank you for all the help. I'm real sorry I had to take you away from your chores.”

“I was glad to do it.”

“If you need any help or have any questions, just holler.”