The next day, Rose packed everything she needed for her journey south. As she sorted through the remaining items that they had put away for the winter, she remembered all that Robert had taught her, all the things they had done together. Each item held a memory.
Finally, however, Rose selected what to take and what to leave behind. There was much more left over than there should have been, with only her to consume it, and she had to make some decisions.
She packed up as much food as she thought she needed for the journey, knowing that she could fish and forage along the way if she needed to. Everything that she had brought with her into the wilderness, as long as it hadn’t worn out, she also brought with her, as well as a few items of clothing that she had made while there. She wouldn’t have much use for heavy fur parkas or fur-lined mittens and boots where she was going, but she packed them along anyway. She was still in Alaska for the time being, and might have use for them.
After packing the camping equipment and several bags of gold dust and gold nuggets, she didn’t think she could carry anymore. Cleaning out the hut where she had spent the winter, she put most of the remaining items into the storage pits, covering them with rocks to keep predators out. As an afterthought, she used a piece of charcoal to indicate the contents of the pits, realizing that another traveler might find them useful.
Before she left, Rose walked onto the tundra to visit Robert’s grave one last time. Along the way, she picked a bouquet of spring wildflowers, placing them atop the pile of rocks. No predator had yet touched the grave. Looking at it, Rose pulled the piece of charcoal from her pocket and wrote on the largest rock.
In Loving Memory
Robert Calvert
1890-1915
It was the only outward memorial she could give him. Standing back, she looked at the charcoal inscription, wondering how long the words would last, and if anyone would ever look beneath the pile of rocks to find the man buried there.
Rose left the claim that afternoon. Returning to the hut, she looked around the be sure that she hadn’t forgotten anything, then loaded a small pack on Tripper and a larger pack on her own back. It was heavy, but she was much stronger now than she had been when she had started out the previous June. She had lived in the wilderness and had learned how to survive and take care of herself.
At last, she walked away, following the river back toward the south. As she reached the top of the ridge, she turned back one last time and looked back.
She could clearly see the place on the river where she and Robert had panned for gold, where they had foraged and fished—and where Robert had fallen through the ice. She had never gone back out on the ice after that, nor had she continued the search for gold after the ice melted. The memories were too painful.
The house was also visible from the ridge, looking like a grassy cave in the distance. If she had been standing behind it, it would have almost blended in with the landscape. The little house had served them well after they had built it, and she wondered if some other traveler or gold-seeker might use it. It had been built well enough to withstand the winter, despite their lack of experience in building anything, and it might well stand for years yet. There was no real way of knowing. Rose would not be coming back.
Looking to the west, Rose could see, faintly, the pile of rocks that marked Robert’s grave. She stood looking at it for a long moment before she turned away, Tripper following her.
Following the river, Rose headed south, never looking back.