He glanced down, swept his gaze over the sacklike thing covering her hair, that was gathered in a mass at the back of her head, studied her pale, tense face. She was staying strong in insisting she have a part in the kidnapped baby’s rescue, but her strength was born of desperation. There was a vulnerability in the depth of her eyes that tugged at him, made him want to help her, to protect her. An odd thought. It was the baby who was in danger.
The anger born when he’d learned of the baby’s kidnapping surged again. He’d been helpless against the pneumonia that had claimed his baby’s life, but he could fight the kidnapper that was endangering this one. He clenched his jaw, focused his gaze on the sheriff. He would ask Ed Parker to deputize him. That would be best. But one way or another, he would help get the baby back alive.
“That is…it’s…untrue.” Teena Crow’s dark eyes shadowed with hurt. “What have my people ever done to the whites of this town that they would say such a thing?”
Viola moved over to stand beside her friend. “People do not always deserve what is said about them, Teena. But—”
“But what, Viola?” Teena turned toward her, her dark braids and the small strings of beads dangling from her ears swinging from her quick movement. “Are you saying your heart believes my people have taken Goldie from you?”
“I did not—”
“What’s going on, Teena? I could hear voices in the other room.”
Viola jerked her gaze from the soft smile of delight that warmed Teena’s face, to the doorway. Dr. Jacob Calloway stood there wiping his hands on a towel and scanning the room. A frown line appeared between his dark brows. “I thought I heard your voice, Sheriff.” He looked at her. “Is this about the baby, Viola? Mavis Goodge told us she had been kidnapped. Have you found her injured? Do you need—”
“They think some of my people have taken Goldie.”
Viola shook her head. “That is not true, Teena. None of us have accused the Tlingits. We only came seeking your opinion of the note—though why it matters is beyond my understanding.” She lifted her hands and rubbed at the throbbing in her temples. “I don’t care who kidnapped Goldie. I only want to get her back. And we are wasting time with all this talking!”
“You are right, Viola. To save baby Goldie is what is important.” Teena gave her a quick hug, then crossed to the sheriff. “There are good and bad in all peoples. I will speak the truth. What do the words on the paper say?”
Dr. Calloway stepped behind Teena and gently rested his hands on her shoulders. It was a loving, protective gesture. Or was it? Perhaps it was possessiveness. Viola looked away. The sight of a man’s hands made her stomach queasy. She stared at the floor and tried not to think about Goldie being hungry or afraid or hurt, while the sheriff read the note.
“Those are not words my people would know to use.”
Ed Parker nodded. “That’s what Stone said.”
At last! Now perhaps Mack Tanner would get her the gold and she could go to the cemetery as instructed. Viola glanced up. Thomas Stone was looking at her, compassion in his eyes. But again, that hint of admiration lurked in their depths. In the world she’d come from, that meant only one thing. She straightened, refusing to reveal the twinge of fear that streaked through her. Fear revealed weakness, and the men she had known grew meaner and more demanding when they sensed fear.
“I agree with Teena and Thomas about the note. And the Tlingits I have met are not dishonest. Nor do I think they would threaten harm to a child. I suggest you look for a white man, Sheriff.” Dr. Calloway’s voice was strong with conviction.
Viola shifted her gaze, saw Teena look up at Jacob, her dark eyes wide and soft with pleasure. Oh, Teena, don’t trust him. Never trust a man.
“And I suggest you step outside and tell that to the crowd. It’s getting larger.” Thomas Stone jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the window behind him.
“Confound it! I told those men to go home. I was afraid something like this was gonna happen.” Ed Parker jammed the note into his pocket and looked over at her. “You stay here with Teena, Viola. It might not be safe for you to be walking home alone now, with the crowd thinking about gold. And we men have got things to do.”
Viola stiffened. But before she could reiterate her intentions of taking the gold to the cemetery, the sheriff was barking out orders.
“Mack, the people in this town hold you in high regard. You come outside with me while I send this crowd packing once and for all, then go get the gold nuggets and take them to the cemetery at midnight, like the note says. Thomas, when the crowd clears, you get to the woods by the cemetery and find yourself a good hiding place. I want you there just in case there are some Tlingit involved. And if you see a good chance to grab the baby, do it. No telling what this guy is planning. I want you there, too, Doc. If there’s any shooting…”
Shooting! Viola didn’t wait to hear more, she slipped out of the room and hurried toward the back door. Soft footfalls whispered on the floor behind her.
“You are going home?”
“No. To the cemetery.” She turned. “Don’t tell them, Teena. Please. I cannot sit here and wait. Goldie may—” she swallowed back the fear pressing on her throat “—she may need me.”
Teena nodded, her gaze solemn. “I will not tell them you follow your heart.” She glanced over her shoulder, stepped closer. “Go to the back of the school, then beyond the cabins to Dunkle’s farm—where the goats are penned. Walk straight to the trees on the mountain. There is a path in the woods my people use to go to the waterfall. You will not be seen.”
“Thank you, Teena.” Viola gave her a quick hug, then opened the door and stepped outside.
“I will pray.” The door closed.
The soft words brought comfort, hope. She walked through the back lots toward the school, slipping in and out of the dusky light as the shadows of the buildings covered her. The sound of the sheriff’s voice, the mumblings of the crowd trailed after her. She shivered, wished for a jacket, though the night was not cold. The chill was inside her.
At the school she paused in the shadows, swept her gaze over the cabins, then stepped out into the fading luminance and crossed the open area toward the Johnson brothers’ cabin. There would be no eyes gazing out of windows there. Last week she had mended a rent in Uriah Johnson’s tent so he could take it with them on their trek up the Chilkoot Trail to the gold fields. She kept to the left side of the cabin, using it as a barrier to hide her from the Tucker cabin. If Frankie looked out a window and saw her, she would come to investigate. And she could abide no more delays. She moved on past the Monroe home, and once beyond the cluster of cabins, quickened her steps to the Dunkle farm.
The goats gamboled over to the fence to greet her. Tears clogged her throat. Goldie’s feeding bottle was at home. How would… She forced down her imaginings and ran to the edge of the woods at the foot of the mountain, then stepped into the welcome darkness. Silence pressed in on her. Help me find the way, Lord. She moved forward slowly, searching through the dim light for the Tlingit path. The feel of forest loam pressed firm beneath her feet, assuring her she had found it. She turned and followed in the direction of the waterfall.
She had to reach the cemetery before the sheriff and the others arrived. Before the kidnapper came.
Chapter Two
The water roared over the mountain ledge in a silver deluge that washed the face of the layered rock, foamed over and slithered through the piled boulders, then whispered its way into the creek flowing toward town.
Toward the cemetery.
Viola shivered, studied the deep shadows beneath the towering firs. She spotted no one lurking in the depths, and moved forward until the woods opened onto a small clearing and she could see the fence. And the gate.
She should have stayed and made the sheriff listen to her. What if the kidnapper was expecting a woman? What if he saw Mack coming and sensed a trap? Bile burned its way into her throat. She leaned back against the massive trunk of
a tree, its branches laden with yellow leaves, and closed her eyes. Please, Lord. She’s a helpless little baby. Please protect her.
A violent shaking took her. Tears stung her eyes. She took a deep breath, blinked them away, and opened her eyes and stared at the gate. If there was one thing her past had taught her, it was that tears never helped. The light grew dimmer, slid toward deep purple. Twilight back home. Nearly midnight here.
A figure emerged out of the shadowed distance, strode across the cemetery and stopped by the gate. She watched Mack Tanner sweep the woods with a long, searching gaze, willed him to hurry and do what the kidnapper asked. He pulled a small bag from his pocket, held it aloft, then bent from the waist and placed it on the ground at the foot of one of the gate posts, turned and walked off the way he had come.
It was done. Now they had only to wait. Where were Thomas Stone and Dr. Calloway and the sheriff? She scanned left and right, saw nothing but trees and rocks and shadows. Where was the kidnapper? What if he didn’t come? What if he’d seen one of the men? Or her? What if he left with Goldie? The shaking took her again. She shouldn’t have come. She should have listened to the sheriff and stayed at home. Maybe…
Movement at the edge of the woods caught her eye. Her heart jolted. Was that him? She stared into the shadowy gloom formed by the thick growth of trees, made out the blanket-wrapped bundle the man carried, a gun in his other hand.
Lord, don’t let him see me. Keep Goldie safe.
She pressed back against the tree trunk, felt the rough bark bite into her palms and back, the pulse throbbing at her temples and the base of her throat. Footsteps neared, turned away, stopped. Where was he?
She strained against the silence, broken only by the sibilance of the creek flowing by. Her ears failed her. So did her lungs. They were as frozen as the glaciers atop the high mountains. She inched her head to the left. He was there, crouched behind a pile of huge rocks, looking toward the cemetery.
Time stopped. She dug her nails into the bark to hold herself from running to him and snatching the baby away. She stared at the bundle. It was quiet…still. Why wasn’t Goldie moving? Or cooing? She loved to wave her little fists in the air and chatter her baby talk. Fear seized her, dropped like a rock into the pit of her stomach. Rage burned away the ice in her lungs. She took a deep breath, clenched her hands. If he had hurt the baby…
She jerked, yanked her head back. He had glanced her way. Had he seen her? She checked to make certain her long skirt was hidden, inched her head to the right and peered around the opposite side of the tree trunk. What was he doing? Heart pounding, she watched as the man rose to a half stoop and moved toward a dead tree beside the pile of rocks. He placed the bundle in the hollow base of the tree, gave another scan of the area, then, gun raised, stepped into the small clearing and walked toward the cemetery.
She held her breath and waited. I’m coming, Goldie. Oh, baby, don’t be afraid. I will get you as soon as he is far enough away that I can get across the clearing. No! She jerked her gaze toward the movement on the right, saw a man slipping through the trees toward the stones. Toward the bundle. They had set a trap. There were two of them! They had never intended to return Goldie. Could she reach the baby first?
She grasped her skirts, lifted the hems, then let them fall and leaned back against the tree again. The distance across the open area was too great. She would follow the man. She glanced toward the kidnapper. He was opening the gate, reaching down for the gold. When he turned back, she— Her thoughts froze, focused on the sheriff who was edging around the small building in the middle of the cemetery.
A stone flew out of the woods and crashed against the pile of rocks. She jumped, gasped.
The kidnapper looked up, spun around and raced back toward the stones.
The sheriff shouted and gave chase.
Goldie! She had to get her! Viola whirled, saw a man break from the woods and sprint toward the rocks. Thomas Stone!
The kidnapper stopped, raised his gun.
“No! Don’t—”
The report of a shot slammed against her ears, echoed off the mountain. Thomas Stone lurched, ran forward, grabbed the bundle and ran back into the woods. He had saved Goldie! Joy flooded her. She grabbed her skirt, lifted her hems. Another shot rang out. The kidnapper staggered, fell. She turned and ran. Shouts, grunts and curses followed her to the woods.
Thomas Stone was sitting with his back to a tree, the unwrapped baby in his arms. He smiled when she skidded to a stop, dropped to her knees and reached for the baby. “She’s all right.”
Viola nodded, clutched Goldie to her breast and looked at him. “Thank you, Mr. Stone. I—” She stared. The left side of his shirt was soaked with blood. “He shot you.” The whispered words brought a crooked grin to his face.
“It appears so.” He tried to rise, grimaced, sank back and closed his eyes. The blood stain spread.
Her heart clutched. “Don’t move, Mr. Stone. I’ll get the doctor.” She put Goldie on his outstretched legs, lurched to her feet and ran.
“He’s coming around, Viola. He’s going to be all right.”
Her lungs emptied in a long sigh. “Thank You, Lord.” She fought back grateful tears and brought up a smile. “And thank you, Dr. Calloway.”
He shook his head. “You were right the first time—thank the Lord. If that bullet had been a little closer to…” He stopped, smiled. “But it wasn’t. I was able to extract it safely.” The smile morphed into a frown that knit his brows together. “The problem now is his recovery. He lost a lot of blood before we got him here to the clinic, and more during the operation. He’s going to be as weak as that baby you’re clutching as if you’ll never let her go. And he won’t be able to move for a few days, and not use his left arm normally for weeks. He’s going to need constant care. I don’t know where we will find that for him. The clinic is full. And there is no place—”
“He’s not married?”
“No. And it’s certain he can’t go live in that hut of his on the Chilkoot Trail.” Jacob Calloway shook his head, sighed and massaged the back of his neck. “I’ll keep him here in the clinic overnight of course, but then I’ll need the room for other surgical patients.” The frown returned. Then he gave her another tired smile. “Why don’t you go home now and get some sleep. Morning will be here soon, and when the laudanum that thug gave Goldie wears off, she is going to be demanding a lot of attention.” His smile widened. “You can put her down, you know. She’s safe here.”
“Not yet. It’s for my sake I’m holding her.” Viola kissed the baby’s silky, dark hair, squelched the war raging inside her. It was clear what she must do. “You said Mr. Stone is ‘coming around.’ May I see him?”
He studied her for a moment then nodded. “All right. He keeps muttering about a baby. It will likely do him good to see you holding the baby safe in your arms. But you can’t stay but a minute. Like I said, he’s lost a lot of blood and needs rest.”
“I understand.” Viola rose, and hugging Goldie close, followed Jacob Calloway through his small surgery, to the tiny room where his surgical patients recovered, her steps reluctant but determined. She smiled at Teena Crow, stepped to the bed and looked down at Thomas Stone. Her heart almost stopped. She had never seen anyone so pale. Only his eyebrows gave his face color. Even his blond hair seemed to have paled.
“I didn’t realize he was so… I will thank him tomorrow.” She took a steadying breath, looked up at the doctor. “You said Mr. Stone will need care and a place to stay, Doctor. I have room. Please bring him to my cabin when he recovers and—”
“No.”
Viola glanced down. Thomas Stone had opened his eyes. Though his voice was weak, the look in those green eyes left no doubt that he meant exactly what he said. The tension left her. She had offered to care for him. Her obligation was satisfied. It was not her fault the man refused. Still, she stood rooted to the spot, unable to walk away. The man was in dire straits and most likely not fully aware of his situa
tion. “This is no time to stand on pride, Mr. Stone. I am in your debt for saving Goldie, and Dr. Calloway has said you will need constant care—until you are recovered. Staying at my cabin is the sensible solution. I live close by, and the doctor will be able to come visit you daily.”
“No.” His voice was weaker this time, but the tone just as adamant. “Woman…repu…ta…tion…” His eyelids closed, fluttered, but refused to open.
“You’ll have to leave now, Viola. He needs to rest.”
She nodded, stared at Thomas Stone’s pale, still face. Surely, he hadn’t meant he was concerned for her? Of course not. It was his own reputation as a missionary he was concerned about. “No one’s reputation will be sullied, Mr. Stone. Hattie Marsh lives in my home and will help me care for you. Now, rest well. And I will see you tomorrow.” There was no response. She must have put his worries over his reputation at rest.
She looked up at Jacob Calloway. “As I was saying, Doctor, please bring Mr. Stone to my cabin when he is sufficiently recovered. I will have a bed ready for him.” She glanced at Teena, mouthed “thank you” and left the room.
“No.”
“Don’t be foolish, Thomas. If you don’t go to Viola Goddard’s, where will you go? You need care.”
Dr. Calloway sounded decidedly exasperated. Too bad. He was not going to spend a couple of weeks under Viola Goddard’s care. He wouldn’t do it. In spite of what she said, there was her reputation to think of. And there was the baby. Thomas mustered what little strength he could find and opened his eyes. “I’ll go to…my hut.”
“That’s ridiculous, Thomas. You’re too weak to even lift your head off the pillow. How do you expect to— Stop that!”
Gold Rush Baby (Alaskan Brides) Page 2