Gabe ignored that, tried to comfort the boy. “It’s okay, buddy. You’re safe up here. Go back and find a good place for Grandpa Belcourt to sit, okay?”
Dean sniffed, nodded.
Gabe sent down the rope again, and, with the help of the first camp counselor, hoisted up the other two counselors, their dead weight supported in part by the pulley, until only Belcourt and his grandfather remained on the ground.
“You next,” he heard Belcourt say.
“You go. I can wait.”
“No, Grandpa. I can climb this without the rope. I’ll be right behind you.”
Gabe lowered the rope, his hands blistered from the friction.
Grandpa was a bit heavier than the others.
“Pull!” Gabe shouted over his shoulder to the counselors.
The fire was almost below them now, its roar deafening.
Belcourt had done as he’d said, following his grandfather up, climbing without the security of a belay as Gabe had done. If he fell...
As soon as Old Man Belcourt was up, Gabe tossed down the rope, shouting to be heard. “Hold on!”
Belcourt took hold of the rope, letting Gabe and the others pull him the rest of the way up to the cave.
The fire had reached the cliff now, smoke thick in the air, the heat rising up from below almost unbearable.
Coughing, Belcourt hauled himself over the edge and into the cave.
Gabe took his hand, pulled him to his feet. “Are you okay?”
That had been awfully damned close.
Belcourt nodded, still coughing. “A bit toasted … You are … one hell of a climber, man. I’m not sure … I could have done that.”
“You almost did.”
It had been a calculated risk.
If Gabe had fallen, he’d have been killed, and they would have wasted precious minutes that probably would have cost the rest of them their lives. If the cave hadn’t been big enough to hold them all …
Yeah, that would have been a clusterfuck.
Smoke was blowing into the cave now, carried by the wind, making everyone cough. If they didn’t stop it, they might end up dying of smoke inhalation anyway.
Belcourt gestured toward the cave’s entrance. “We … should try … to cover it.”
Gabe glanced around for something that could span the five-foot-tall and two-foot-wide opening. “Anyone have a … tarp stuffed in their underwear?”
Grandpa Belcourt turned over the big drum he cradled in his arms. Strapped to the underside was some kind of blanket roll. “I have this old … Pendleton blanket. It was a gift… from your Grandma’s parents.”
Gabe didn’t want to take that. Embers would scorch it. It might even catch fire. He opened his mouth to say so, inhaled smoke, coughed.
Shit.
They didn’t have a choice.
Grandpa untied it, handed it to Belcourt, who unrolled it, his expression grave. “Pilamayaye, Tunkasila.”