Snowfire

by French, Colleen

  Taking an empty chair near the fireplace, Alex lifted his glass of Christmas punch to his lips. It was a crude mixture of homemade spirits, canned fruit and chunks of ice from the frozen river. Gabrielle had called it her papa's special recipe, Alex recalled, and then she and Peg had burst into uncontrolled laughter over some private joke.

  Sitting back in his chair, Alex watched everyone through half-closed eyes, wishing he were home in Richmond with Alexis. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving Gabrielle, but he longed to see his daughter. He sighed, studying little Mary playing on the hearth with stick-figure animals carved from wood. Why did life have to be so difficult? Why did so much depend on money? If only he could find that map—

  "Hey, you . . ." Gabrielle broke Alex from his reverie. "Didn't you hear me? We're going to open the presents now." She took the glass from his hand, studying his grey-blue eyes. She couldn't help but see the mixture of emotions that troubled him. "You all right?"

  "Yea." He gave a nod, shifting his gaze to the floor.

  Gabrielle straddled his knees to sit on his lap. She didn't care what the others thought. She only cared that Alex was hurting. "You miss Alexis?" She brushed back the hair off his forehead with her fingers.

  "Yea."

  "Wish you were there?"

  "Yes. But I wish you were there with me." His eyes met hers.

  "You know that's not possible," she whispered.

  "Why not?"

  She chewed at her bottom lip apprehensively. "You know why."

  "Taylor could never find you in Richmond, Gabrielle." The voices in the cabin faded into the background as he studied her dark, frightened eyes.

  "It's silly even to talk about it. You have your gold to find, remember?"

  "If we found the map, we could find the gold together."

  Gabrielle slid off his lap. "I thought you weren't going to mention the map again."

  "You're right. I'm sorry." He got to his feet, taking her hand. "Now come on, let's see these presents."

  The guests, Gabrielle and Alex all sat on the floor in a circle in the center of the room and with a flurry of conversation, began to pass their gifts around. Some were wrapped in hides or old newspaper; some did not come wrapped at all. There were hard candy and trinkets for little Mary, a new pipe each for Beans and Peg, mittens for Alex and yard goods for Mya and Lily. Gabrielle received new leather straps to repair her harnesses, canned fruitcake and a new pair of snowshoes. To Alex, she gave a tunic of soft wool with moose and wild birds embroidered across the front.

  "You weren't supposed to give me anything, Gabrielle," he told her, kissing her softly on the lips. "I've nothing for you."

  Her eyes shined with the gaiety of the Christmas spirit. "That's all right. I'll collect mine later," she whispered.

  Finally, when all of the gifts had been passed out and thank-yous had been said, Mya spoke up. 'There's one more thing," she said shyly as she pulled a small bundle from behind her. "It's for you, Gabrielle. Something I found in Jack's stuff." Hesitantly she offered the bundle wrapped in blue ticking.

  Gabrielle lifted an eyebrow questioningly, but accepted the present. Sitting cross-legged between Alex and Jack, she unfolded the layers of new cotton. "Oh . . ." She looked from Mya to Jack, tears brimming in her eyes. "Laura! Where did you find her?" It was the rag doll her father had made for her the winter she was born.

  "I found it in a bag of old clothes your father gave me. I don't know how long I've had it." Jack pulled a cigar from his pocket and stuck it between his teeth. He wasn't much for emotions. Mya had said she would want the old doll, though he couldn't figure out why.

  Gabrielle held the faded cloth doll to her chest. "Thank you, Mya . . . Jack. I thought she was long gone. She just disappeared one day. Papa said he didn't touch her, but I always thought he'd thrown her out thinking she was junk." She studied the doll's black-button eyes, fingering her yarn hair.

  "Now how about some more of that punch?" Alex asked everyone. He gave Gabrielle a squeeze as he collected empty glasses and tin cups.

  Later, after a meal of Mya's moose stew, corn bread and baked apples, the friends all settled down on the floor and in the chairs. Gabrielle gave Alex a nudge as she settled on the floor at his feet. She held a cup of steaming black coffee cradled in her hands. "Now comes the real entertainment," she told him, grinning. "Listen up, because you're about to hear some of the tallest tales heard in this territory."

  "Tales?" Beans Magee plopped himself on Gabrielle's bed. "What are you talking about, woman? It's the honest truth I tell, as God is my witness!" He lifted a glass of straight whiskey in salute.

  Truth!" Peg chimed in. "You wouldn't know the truth if it bit you in the ass!" Lily gave him a sharp elbow in the side, and he grunted, giving her a kiss on the cheek to appease her. "'Scuse my language, ladies. But you know it's the truth. Beans is the best liar on the Tanana." He looked over at Gabrielle. "'Course he couldn't hold a candle to Rouge LeBeau, could he?"

  Gabrielle smiled. Instead of being sad at the mention of her father, it made her feel good inside. He would have been glad to know his friends thought so much of him. "All right, all right you two. Who's going to be first?"

  Jack cleared his throat and spoke, going into a long meandering account of how an owl once guided him in a snowstorm, leading him to his mother's home. Next, Beans Magee recited his favorite story, swearing it was God's own truth as he elaborated on the tale he'd told the Christmas before. Peg followed in turn explaining how he went hunting earlier in the week and managed to kill a moose, a deer, two rabbits and a handful of grouse, all with one single shot.

  Gabrielle broke into laughter, giving Alex a nudge. "Come on, who could believe him? Peg, you're the worst liar in this snowbank. You're going to be barred from this house if you can't come up with anything better than that." She smiled teasingly, a sparkle in her dark eyes. "You honestly expect me to believe that you shot that moose, he ran and fell on the deer, who fell on the rabbits, who fell on the grouse, and you carried them all home on your sled?"

  Peg grinned, stroking his bleached beard. "Nope, nope, don't expect you to believe it. Had to make a second trip back in my sled to fetch the moose!"

  Everyone groaned, bursting into conversation as they reached to refill their glass with punch. "How about you, Gabe?" Beans Magee called from the bed. "We haven't heard from you tonight."

  "That's right. What's Christmas without a story from a LeBeau?" Peg questioned.

  Gabrielle put up her hands in defense. "Not me tonight, gentlemen. I haven't the belly for it." She turned to look up at Alex, a mischievous grin on her face. "But Alex, here, he's been telling me what a good storyteller he is. Seems he's had all kinds of adventures in newspaper printing places and cow stalls." She giggled, prodding his knee.

  "A story!" Jack called out, raising his glass of punch. "It's the price a man pays for my Mya's meal." He lifted a sooty eyebrow, challenging Alex.

  "Thanks, Gabrielle," Alex muttered beneath his breath. But he took a sip and set down his glass, crossing his arms over his chest. "I have a tale to tell you, but it's for your ears only, a tale so unbelievable, yet true, that I wouldn't dare tell any others but you . . ." His voice took on a soft, mellowing tone as he lured his listeners into his confidence.

  Gabrielle sighed, drawing up her knees as she listened to the yarn Alex spun. As his clear tenor voice filled the small cabin, pride swelled in her heart until she thought she would burst. He was a born storyteller. She had suspected he might have the gift when he first began to tell her stories of the great war between the states. Late at night they would lay in front of the fire, and he would repeat tales he had heard from his uncles, friends and grandfather. Even though he had never been on a battlefield, he could make her hear the roar of the cannon and smell the sweat of human blood. But here, in front of an audience, his storytelling ability was intensified. He added gestures, gentle intonations in his voice, even an occasional hushed whisper.

  Alex held hi
s listeners spellbound as he told the tale of a great whale that swam in the cold waters of the Atlantic. The sperm whale was said to lift drowning sailors from the depths of the sea and toss them onto the decks of whaling ships, thus risking its own life to save the men that threatened his extinction. It was a bold, daring tale with enough credibility to send a cold tingle down Gabrielle's spine.

  As Alex's story came to an end and he leaned back in the chair, everyone in the room gave a sigh. Gabrielle hugged her knees, smiling up at him. Papa would have been proud, she thought.

  Beans Magee stood up. "A finer tale I've not heard. The boy has my vote." He lifted his glass of whiskey.

  "Aye, he has mine as well." Peg got slowly to his feet in honor of the winner.

  "And mine . . ." Jack pushed himself out of his chair and plucked the unlit cigar from his mouth. "To Alex." He raised his glass, as did the others, and they drank to the newcomer's acceptance.

  Alex nodded, his face sober. This was a rite of passage for him, for he knew with the raising of each glass, Gabrielle's friends gave their approval of him. And for some reason, at that moment, their approval was more precious to him than the gold he had come north seeking. Catching Gabrielle's hand, he pulled her to her feet and kissed her gently, his blue eyes sparkling with accomplishment.

  A few days later a warm spell hit the Tanana, and Alex and Gabrielle took advantage of it by spending the afternoon outside making up dog food in a large caldron over an open fire. They mixed moose meat, fish and wheatflour, and heated, then poured it into tin molds to let it freeze into chunks. The single servings could be carried on a sled and would stay frozen until spring.

  "Now, when you're running your dogs hard, they need nearly four pounds of food a day," Gabrielle instructed as she stirred the contents of the huge pot. "And remember, they need hot food just like you do. When I'm on the trail, they get frozen chunks of fish during the day and a hot meal at night."

  Alex nodded, continuing to fillet the fish they'd caught this morning. "What happens when you run out of food?"

  She dropped the stirring stick into the snow and arranged the molds in front of her. "You don't, but if you do, they can go days without it. Probably longer than you can."

  "I suppose as long as you hunt you can keep yourself and your animals alive." Alex tossed a piece of fresh fish into the air, and the dogs leaped for it, snapping and growling playfully.

  "Yea, but there are times when the snow gets too deep and the wind blows too hard to hunt, Alex. You've got to know when those times are coming and be prepared." She shucked off her parka, overheated by the exertion of stirring the thick mass and the heat from the fire.

  Alex tossed another piece of fish into the air. "Have you seen Leo?"

  "No." Gabrielle eyed him sternly. "I told you about leaving him in the cabin. He'll be into my supplies, and I'll run short."

  He dropped his knife on the flat surface of the log. "Sorry. I'll get him. I'm sure he's just sleeping in front of the fire." He sank his hands into the snow to clean them and started for the cabin.

  Gabrielle followed him. "You're going to spoil him, Alex. He'll be useless on the trail."

  He stopped and waited for her. "Alright, nag, I hear you." He hugged her playfully with one arm.

  Swinging open the cabin door, Gabrielle stepped inside. Her hand flew to her mouth. "Leopold!" she shouted. "Put that down! Bad boy." She ran across the room, yanking her rag doll out of the husky's mouth. "For shame," she chastised, hugging the torn toy to her chest.

  "Oh, Gabrielle. I'm sorry." Alex grabbed the dog by the collar and pushed him out the door. "Bad Leo, bad boy."

  Feeling silly, Gabrielle turned around. "It's all right, it's just an old doll." She picked up a severed arm that lay on the floor, the stuffing spilling from it.

  "It doesn't matter," Alex answered. "It was yours. It had good memories."

  Gabrielle held up the doll to see if she could reattach the arm. "She's not too bad, I can fix—" Her voice caught in her throat. "Alex," she breathed.

  "What?" He looked up from where he'd been stooped, picking up stray stuffing.

  "Alex . . . there's something in here."

  "In where?" His eyebrows furrowed.

  She shook the ragged toy. "My doll." Gently with one finger, she poked at the arm hole. Holding her breath, she slowly withdrew a rolled sheet of paper and tucked her doll beneath her arm.

  Unrolling the brown, tattered paper, she looked up at Alex. Her face was ashen. "My God, Alex," she whispered. "It's the map. . . ."

  Chapter Thirteen

  "Gabrielle, come with me, please . . ." Alex entreated.

  She tossed her fishing line through the round hole she'd cut in the ice. "I can't. You know I can't."

  "You can't spend the rest of your life being afraid of Taylor. Who knows, maybe he's given up on you. Maybe he's found some other poor soul to pray on."

  "It's not just Taylor, and you know it." She lifted her chin in defiance. "It's the gold. I won't have anything to do with it."

  Alex tightened the hood on his parka to keep the driving wind off his face. "Why do you have to be so obstinate? The gold didn't kill your father, and you know it. Taylor did."

  "It's the same thing. If there hadn't been any gold, if there hadn't been a map, my father wouldn't have been murdered in that saloon."

  Alex felt a nibble at his bait and tugged gently at the line to entice the fish. "You understand why I have to go."

  "I understand," she answered coldly.

  "Jesus, Gabrielle. Why are you acting like this? You don't understand, and you're not trying." He rubbed his hands together for warmth, thankful for the wool mittens Mya had made him for Christmas. "I have responsibilities, my daughter, my family. Why can't you see that?"

  There's got to be another way." She shifted on the log, stomping her feet to keep them warm. It wasn't much past noon, and already the temperature was dropping. A light snow was beginning to fall, and the wind was picking up, driving harder out of the north.

  "There isn't. I told you I can't make the money I need working for someone else. I've tried."

  "I don't understand why you need all that money anyway. How much do you need to put food on the table for a kid? The war between the states has been over twenty years. If your mother needed money to pay the taxes, she'd have lost the damned place a long time ago!" Gabrielle's sharp stinging words echoed in the trees, and snow fell under the strain of her voice.

  "I told you," Alex answered testily. "The house my great-grandfather built is nearly in ruins. I need to make repairs and to get the land back in shape for planting. My mother's been renting it out, but she's getting on in years. She deserves to see Alexander's Folly restored to its beauty before she dies."

  "Folly is right," she scoffed. "The way I see it, this Alexander doesn't owe them anything."

  Alex jerked his fishing line out of the water and stood up. "You're right, I don't owe them anything." His steely blue-grey eyes met hers in rising fury. "It's honor, Gabrielle. Pure and simple . . . honor and loyalty. But then I don't guess you'd understand that, would you?"

  Before she could speak, he jerked his knapsack off the frozen ice and started for the bank, his stride long and determined.

  Gabrielle sighed, turning back to her fishing. She could feel her hands trembling as she pulled up her line to check the bait. Honor? Where did he think I was supposed to learn anything about this gallant honor of his? Responsibility? Who have I ever been responsible for except myself and my dogs, and maybe Papa when he was too drunk to come in out of the snow?

  She sighed, staring off at the far bank of the Tanana. I've been kidding myself thinking we could ever have a life together. She hadn't said anything to Alex, but she'd been wondering what his Richmond was like. She'd even toyed with the thought that maybe the two of them could go back to Virginia together. "Damned foolishness," she muttered. Those dreams had ended when the map appeared. Alex was hell-bent on finding the gold. She'd given him the map,
that was true; but she wanted no part of any gold miner, and he knew it. He had made his choice. . . .

  Gabrielle sat out on the ice until she was stiff with cold before she finally brought in her fishing line and gave up. It hadn't been a good day for fishing on the Tanana; the dogs would have to eat dried meal and frozen fish from last week. Darkness was settling in on the riverbank as she walked wearily home. When she arrived at the cabin, Alex was already packing the smaller of her two sleds.

  He barely looked up as he spoke. "I'm going to take the smaller sled, Leo and the four dogs I've been mushing with. I can't pay you for them now, but I promise I will later."

  "Take the dogs." Her voice rang with an emptiness that reflected the leaden weight in her heart. She couldn't help feeling betrayed. She knew he had never made any promises. Alex had always said he would leave and go north to search for gold, but she had hoped somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind that when the time came for him to go, he wouldn't be able to do it. She had fantasized that Alex would come to love her so much that he couldn't bear leaving her.

  Alex strapped a pack onto the sled, securing it with rope. "Gabrielle, it doesn't have to be this way. You could go with me."

  She spun around heading for the cabin door. "You've made your choice," she threw back bitterly.

  "Is that what you think?" he shouted across the snow-covered yard. He came after her, catching her inside the door. He grasped her arm, twisting her around and forcing her to face him. That's what it is, isn't it? You think it was a matter of choosing between you and the gold, between you and my family?"

  Gabrielle squirmed under his scrutiny. He had always seemed so easy-going to her, so gentle. She didn't recognize this fierceness in him, and it frightened her. "I don't need you, Alex," she spat through clenched teeth.

  "No, you don't need me; you don't need anyone do you? Well, I've got news for you; I need someone, someone that needs me." He eased the grip he held on her arm but refused to let her go.