Dalton couldn’t help but notice the smug look of satisfaction that Yuri wore. He’d managed to keep Phoebe with him throughout the rest of the waltz and only now had relinquished her to another man.
“So did you see us dancing?” Yuri asked. “I think we make a great pair, don’t you?”
A twinge of jealousy sliced through Dalton’s heart, but he ignored it. His sister Evie had just joined them, and he didn’t want her questioning his attitude. Rather than reply to Yuri’s comment, he turned to Evie.
“You look tired.”
“I’m exhausted. I can’t believe how many times I’ve danced. I’m more than ready to return home, but I know I’d never get away with it.” She smiled at Yuri. “How are you doing?”
“I am well. We were just talking about Miss Phoebe Robbins.”
“She is quite pretty, don’t you think?”
“I do indeed,” Yuri answered. “I was just telling Dalton that I thought we made a great pair.”
Dalton couldn’t shake the growing sensation of wanting to hit Yuri in the mouth. Evie glanced at Dalton, but he looked away as if needing to tend to something else. If she saw his expression, she’d know his feelings readily enough, and he didn’t want to have to explain. Besides, how could he explain when he didn’t understand, himself?
“You still haven’t danced with me, brother of mine.”
Dalton was surprised by this. “I thought you were exhausted.”
She took hold of his arm. “Never too tired to dance with my brother.”
They set out onto the floor and began to join the others. Evie smiled conspiratorially. “You looked like you needed a reason to get away from Yuri.”
Dalton wasn’t sure what to say on the matter. “Sometimes he talks too much.”
“He seems interested in Phoebe Robbins.”
“I suppose so.”
“Dalton, if you like her, you had best fight for her.”
He looked at Evie in complete surprise. “What are you talking about?”
She laughed and motioned to the door. “Come with me.”
Dalton followed his sister outside, more than a little curious about what she would say. He waited until they’d walked a few steps from the front entry before asking, “Why did you say that?”
Evie stopped and turned. “Dalton, it’s clear that you are, at the very least, fascinated with Miss Robbins. And it’s further evident to me that she’s more than a little taken with you. If you are interested in her, you need to fight for her instead of just handing her over to Yuri.”
“Who said I was handing her over to him?”
His sister smiled. “You need to make sure that Yuri knows you are interested. He’s done nothing but bait a reaction from you. It’s time you took a stand. If she means nothing, then let it drop.”
Dalton shook his head. “I don’t know what I feel. I like her looks, and she’s nice to talk to.” He knew there was something more, but he wasn’t yet ready to say what that was.
Evie smoothed the skirt of her gown. “You don’t have to be ready to propose marriage in order to challenge Yuri’s comments.
Simply let him know that you are interested in Phoebe, as well, and that you don’t intend to stand idly by while he tries to win her over for himself.” She gently patted Dalton’s arm. “Look, finding the right person to spend your life with is so important. My own miseries are proof of that. Please don’t let the chance for true love pass you by.”
Her voice was so intense, so full of emotion, that Dalton couldn’t help but put his arm around Evie. “I’m sorry that you didn’t have a chance for love. You are one of the most beautiful, special women I know. Your heart is pure gold.”
She smiled up at him. “I have missed the romance, but not love itself. I have you and the rest of the family. I might never have known that, and my life would be much poorer.”
“Haven’t you ever heard from . . . him?” Dalton asked hesitantly. “I mean, in all these years, hasn’t your husband ever sent you a single letter? Any word at all?”
“No,” Evie admitted. “Our sister Jeannette sometimes writes me about him.” She tilted her head. “I’m so sorry there have been so many secrets between you and me. Jeannette is a rather disastrous person. She has never been happy—even as a child. I find her annoying and ridiculous in most everything she says and does.” She shrugged. “But she does keep me informed about things. She loves to gossip, and it seems to serve her purpose to write to me. I write her back from time to time, but never in detail and not very often.”
Dalton dropped his hold. “Our family is so disjointed—so strange.” He walked a little ways farther and stared out at the fading sunlight on the water.
Evie reached for him. “Let’s get back to the party. You need to make your intentions known to Yuri.”
Dalton allowed her to pull him along, but he still wasn’t convinced. “What do I say?”
She laughed. “Well, the next time he comments on what a great couple they’d make, tell him you don’t think so. Tell him you think you and Phoebe make a better pair.”
Once they were back amongst the festivities, Dalton didn’t have long to wait to say just that. Yuri was determined to goad him. It was as if he knew how his friend felt and couldn’t resist adding to his misery.
“I danced again with Phoebe. I think she’s just about the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“I agree.”
This seemed to amuse Yuri. He turned to face Dalton. “I knew it. I knew you liked her, too.”
“Of course I do. She’s not only pretty; she’s charming and smart.”
Yuri moved in closer. “She looks better with me.”
“That’s your opinion.” Dalton shrugged. “So now what? We both like the same girl. Do we take it outside and let our fists decide?”
Yuri laughed out loud. “You couldn’t whip me. Besides, where’s the fun in that? I say we make a bet on who can win her. After all, you’re the rich man now. Surely you can afford to spare a little for a friendly wager.”
“Since when do you gamble? My mother would never let me hear the end of it if I did such a thing,” Dalton countered. “Your mother would be the same.”
“Our mothers don’t need to even know about it. We’re men, and men gamble.”
“Not all men.”
“Men who aren’t tied to their mother’s apron strings do.”
“So you are gambling these days?”
“I do what I like. I’m grown up now—who should say I can’t do this or that?”
“Some things are just sensible, Yuri.”
With great exasperation, Yuri waved his hands in the air. “So we don’t say it’s a bet. Let’s call it a contest. I believe I can win Phoebe Robbins for myself by the time the winter ball comes round.”
“I’ll have her for my own before first snow,” Dalton declared.
He knew it was a foolhardy move. He should never have agreed to any kind of challenge where Phoebe’s feelings were concerned.
Yuri rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The winner gets Phoebe, while the loser . . .”
He said nothing for a moment. Dalton could only imagine the misery of being the loser. He didn’t like the way this conversation had turned out at all. Evie had said to take a stand, and all he’d managed to do was concoct a game of hearts.
“The loser doesn’t,” Dalton said before Yuri could add anything more.
His friend looked at him oddly. “What do you mean?”
“You said the winner gets Phoebe. I’m saying that the loser won’t get her. That’s loss enough. I don’t like the idea of playing games where such important matters are at stake.”
Laughing, Yuri gave him a playful punch on the arm. “You’re just afraid that I’ll win.”
Dalton said nothing in reply. He was afraid. Afraid he was already losing his heart and had no control over the outcome.
“Now come on. I know where we can get something stiffer to drink than this punch.
”
“Yuri, you know I don’t drink. My folks don’t drink, either. We’re pretty much temperance people, if you want to know the truth.”
“You’re missing out on a great deal of fun,” Yuri assured him. “But have it your way.”
“Your folks won’t approve,” Dalton interjected.
“My folks don’t have to know. Besides, I am a man. I make my own decisions.”
Chapter 7
The arrival of the steamship Corona was reason for excitement in the town. Dalton knew there would be a crowd to contend with, but he had promised his mother that if the ship arrived he would bring the mail home with him that evening. He waited his turn at the post office, glad that he’d not come earlier. The sorting of letters and packages was done with meticulous attention to detail, much to the frustration of those who’d come as soon as the mail had been delivered. Everyone was anxious for information—for word from home or loved ones. It was cause for celebration in this island town.
When Dalton was finally handed a stack of letters, he had to fight his way back through the crowd of people. Once outside, his focus was immediately drawn to the letter on top. The return address indicated it was from Mrs. Jeannette Stone. His sister.
Here was a woman he didn’t know—had never met—yet she was as much a sister to him as Evie. He touched the letter, lingering over the feminine handwriting. Who was this woman? Did she ever think about him—wonder about the brother who’d been born to her stepmother?
He frowned. So many unanswered questions. Would there ever be a chance to set it all straight?
“Dalton?”
He looked up to find Phoebe. She smiled, and he couldn’t help but feel guilty for the conversation he’d had with Yuri. What was he thinking, agreeing to a contest of hearts?
“Hello.” He felt rather tongue-tied.
“Mother came to see if the ship brought the rest of our things,” she offered.
“I came for the mail.”
For a moment, neither one said anything. Dalton noted the blue of Phoebe’s eyes and the way her nose turned up just a bit at the tip. She had the most charming face—rather like an angel. He shook his head. This was getting him nowhere.
“I had a nice time at the dance,” she said, breaking the silence.
“You dance quite well.”
“Uh, thanks. I suppose it’s because my mother insisted I learn. How about you?” What a dumb question, he thought. She’s going to think me an absolute bore.
“I learned to dance in Vermont. It came in handy when two of my friends married earlier this year.”
Dalton nodded, uncertain what else to say. He wanted to ask if she had a suitor—if she’d considered marriage. He wanted to know how she had learned to dance, and what her life in Vermont had been like. Instead, he glanced down at the mail. “I guess I’d better head on home.”
“Good day to you, then,” she told him rather formally. Without another word, she turned and walked back up the street.
Dalton wasn’t sure if he’d offended her or if it was just her way. Picking up speed, he headed the opposite direction. He was just passing the sawmill when Joshua stepped out the door to his private quarters.
“Are you heading home?” he asked Dalton.
“I am. What of you?”
“I’m going your way. If you’d like a ride, I have the wagon ready and waiting. I have some wood to deliver to your father. It’s for the smokehouse.”
“He’ll be glad to get it, I’m sure. I know Mother and Aunt Zee have been anxious to get that project finished up so they can smoke fish.”
They walked around to the side of the building, where two lanky Russian boys were securing the load. Joshua’s large draft horses pawed anxiously at the ground. Dalton rubbed the velvet muzzle of the horse nearest him.
“Easy, boy. We’ll soon be on our way.”
The horse bobbed his head as if in agreement. Joshua climbed atop the wagon to inspect the load, then instructed his help to clean up inside before heading home. Dalton climbed onto the wagon as Joshua came forward to take his seat.
“How are the roads between here and home?” he asked Dalton.
“A little wet in spots, but not too bad. I don’t think we should have too much trouble—not with these boys.”
“They were well worth the money I paid to bring them up from Seattle,” Joshua said, releasing the brake. He gave a gentle slap of the rein. “Come on now, get up there.”
The horses pulled against their harnesses with minimal effort and began the slow plodding walk from the alleyway to the street. Dalton was glad for the ride and grateful for Joshua’s company.
“So, how goes the boat building business?” Joshua asked.
“Not too bad. There hasn’t been a big demand of late, and that has Mr. Belikov worried. Then, too, his wife’s family has been nagging her to go home to Russia. It creates a source of frustration for him, which tends to trickle down to Yuri and me.”
“Funny how that works,” Joshua said with a grin. “When the boss is out of sorts, everyone suffers.”
Dalton nodded and turned to study the harbor for a moment.
“I’ve given a lot of thought to what I want to do—especially if he does close shop and head back to Russia.”
“And what did you conclude?”
“I really enjoy making boats. I’d like to open my own shop. I’ve been thinking that with more and more folks heading up our way, it can’t be too long before it could be quite profitable. I’m wondering, however, if maybe I should keep my sights low—make smaller launches and such. Then if someone wants to commission a larger boat, that would be bonus income.”
“And the smaller boats would, no doubt, sell more easily.”
“And if not here, then possibly in Juneau or elsewhere,” Dalton added. “Mr. Belikov tends to be short-sighted when it comes to planning for the future. Maybe it’s because he knows they will sooner or later return to Russia and he doesn’t want to commit to too lengthy a project.”
“I suppose I would be of the same mind,” Joshua replied. “It wouldn’t do to promise a product and be unable to make good on it.”
“Still, there is great industry here. I’ve heard talk about additional canneries—and, of course, that will require larger catches of fish.”
Joshua gave a shrug. “An island town will always need boats, my friend.”
“And if things slow down, my father is always willing to have my help.”
“Kjell has found himself much busier this summer, what with the new governor and his people. I heard there are plans for several new homes.”
“It’s true,” Dalton confirmed. “Father put together several teams to assist him, but finding quality laborers has been difficult. He takes great pride in his work and refuses to simply slap together a place for the sake of finishing it.”
“I’ve always admired that about him. Your father has a sense of honor and responsibility that has given him a well-earned reputation. No doubt, that is why the governor and his people have gone to him for help.”
They rounded the bend and took the turn for the Lindquist property. Dalton glanced down again at the letters in his hand.
“You were here when my mother came to Sitka.”
Joshua startled and laughed. “Yes, but what does that have to do with building houses and boats?”
“I’m just now learning the details of what happened after I was born. Mother being shot and my brother taking me.”
“Your father mentioned that you were asking questions. It’s been suppressed for so long that I’ve forgotten many of the details.”
He frowned. “What do you remember?”
“That your father lost his heart the first time he laid eyes on your mother.”
Dalton had often heard his father comment on meeting his mother and how she fainted dead in his arms. He’d spoken with great fondness of the memory, and how this was when he first fell in love with her. Dalton thought of Phoebe Robbins and th
eir first encounter. The similarities were not lost on him.
Dalton could see the house ahead and hear his sisters at play. He turned to Josh. “What about when I was taken?”
“It nearly killed Kjell. He loved you both so much, and for Lydia to be so close to death . . .” Joshua shook his head. “They thought for a time that you were dead. The men had planned it that way—the ones who took you.”
“Probably my brother’s plan.”
“I’m sure it was. I never understood how he was able to avoid paying the price for his part.”
“Mother says that with enough money, you can buy yourself in or out of nearly everything.”
“Kjell wasn’t able to leave her side,” Joshua continued. “He turned the sawmill over to me, and I doubt he ever gave it another thought. He only wanted to know that she would be all right. Then when she did recover but couldn’t remember anything, well, it broke his heart all over again.”
The girls came running as Joshua drove the wagon back to the workshop. Kjell appeared in the doorway as they brought the horses to a halt.
“We can talk more about this another time,” Joshua told Dalton before turning to Kjell. “I’ve got that lumber you asked for. Where do you want it?”
Dalton climbed down from the wagon wishing they’d had more time. His father took Dalton’s place. “Let’s take it on down behind Zee’s. We’ll just stack it there.”
“I’ll be down to help after I take in the mail,” Dalton told them.
“Did I get anything in the mail?” Kjerstin asked as the wagon moved out.
Dalton tugged one of her pigtails. “Now, why would you ask such a question? Have you ever received any mail?”
She gave her head a slight shake and lifted her chin in a pose of exasperation. “But that doesn’t mean I never will. Someday I might get a whole bunch of letters.”
“And who would be sending those letters, missy?” he asked playfully.
“A boy,” Britta interjected. She giggled and covered her mouth.
Kjerstin was unconcerned with her sister’s teasing. “I might get a letter from a boy. You just never know.”
Dalton laughed and reached out to hug his sister close. “You will probably get more letters than you can keep up with. I shall have to watch after you very carefully when the men come to court. I won’t stand for any nonsense.”
[Song of Alaska 02] - Morning's Refrain Page 7