[Song of Alaska 02] - Morning's Refrain

by Tracie Peterson

“She’s part of the reason I wanted to talk to you.” Dalton leaned back against the railing, hoping his action would lend a less formal spirit to the moment.

  Robbins gripped the rail and looked away. “My daughter thinks highly of you.”

  “And I of her,” Dalton admitted. “In fact, I would like to seek your blessing to ask for her hand.”

  This caught Robbins’ attention in an unexpected way. He jumped back as if Dalton had somehow wounded him. “Marriage? You speak of marriage?”

  Dalton nodded. “I know it might seem out of order. We’ve only known each other a short time, but I’m not a man given over to frivolity or nonsensical notions. I do not take action without a great deal of consideration and prayer on any matter. Phoebe has touched something deep in my heart. I love her, and I want to marry her as soon as possible.”

  Robbins looked him over. “And you have the means to support a wife?”

  “I do. I have an inheritance—a rather large inheritance—that I will take complete control of upon my twenty-first birthday. At this point, I have partial management of the money and intend to start a business in boat building.”

  For several minutes, Robbins said nothing. He turned back to look at the water, rubbing his chin as he contemplated this news. Dalton wondered if such an announcement had put the man’s mind at ease or only served to further complicate matters.

  “So you are not planning to simply sit back and live on this inheritance. You desire to work, as well?”

  Dalton considered it an odd question, but responded. “I do. I have no intention of sitting idle. I wasn’t brought up that way. I very much enjoy working with my hands. Building boats has been something I’ve trained to do since I was young. I will most likely hire people to work with me, as I’d like to make this a large business in the years to come.”

  “And where will you live?”

  “In Sitka,” Dalton answered. “It’s been my home, and after a trip to the States, I am convinced it will remain such. I’m unimpressed with large cities and the problems they bring. I prefer our life on the island. Besides, there is a great need for boats all along the coast.”

  Robbins’ shoulders seemed to slump a bit. Dalton couldn’t tell if the man was sorrowed at the idea of losing his daughter or relieved. “You have my blessing to marry her,” he said in a barely audible voice.

  Dalton was troubled by the man’s reaction and manner. He toyed with the idea of saying nothing more, but he felt compelled to speak out. “Phoebe told me about the past—about your father. I want you to know that it doesn’t matter at all to me. My family has its own past and problems. All families do.”

  The older man stiffened. “It is a millstone around my neck. I doubt I will ever be free of it—at least not until I die.”

  Robbins straightened and turned to face Dalton. “You seem like an admirable young man. I have only heard good things about your family. It seems that taking care of one another is important.”

  Dalton nodded and smiled. “It is. Family is everything.”

  Sadness and defeat etched Robbins’ expression. “Family is very important.” Then, as if the topic had become too difficult, Phoebe’s father changed the subject. “Will you debark in Seattle?”

  “Yes. I have to arrange for my business needs. After that, I will return to Sitka,” Dalton replied. “What of you, Mr. Robbins?”

  “No. I will head south to California.” He seemed to consider something for a moment, then added, “Since you will no doubt head back to Sitka before I can, I wonder if you might take a letter to my wife.”

  “Of course. I’d be happy to.”

  “Very well. I’ll have it brought to you in the morning.”

  “Would you care to have supper with me tonight?” Dalton asked.

  The man shook his head. “No. I have some matters to tend to, including the letter.” He reached out to Dalton and took hold of his arm. “I pray you will treat my daughter well.”

  “I assure you, sir, I will.”

  Robbins’ expression took on a look that Dalton could only think of as regret. “She was always the joy of my heart. As the oldest, she held a special place in my life. I will miss her.”

  “You could stay in Sitka,” Dalton offered. “Perhaps even work with me.” Dalton hadn’t thought about it until just then, but Phoebe’s father might be an asset to him. The man knew about banking and keeping books; perhaps he could work for Dalton in that capacity.

  But Robbins shook his head. “I can’t remain in Alaska. I would only end up causing my family more pain.”

  Yuri sat at the table and studied the cards in his hand. If he could get the queen of hearts, he would have a straight flush. The pile of money on the table would be his then, and he could prove to his father that he was just as capable of buying into the business as Dalton. Not that his father expected such a thing, but Yuri knew it had hurt him financially to be unable to sell Dalton half of the business. His father needed the money in order to take the family back to Russia, and with just a little bit of luck, Yuri could provide it.

  “Give me one,” Yuri said, tossing down a card.

  The bearded man across from him smiled. “Just one? You must have a good hand.”

  Yuri stared at him, trying hard not to reveal his excitement. It was just one card—one card that would mean the difference between shame and his father’s approval. Of course, if his father knew he was gambling, there would be no approval.

  “Give him the card,” the man to Yuri’s left demanded.

  The dealer shrugged and did just that. Yuri looked at his hand for a moment before retrieving what he hoped would be the answer to all of his problems. He drew in his breath and held it. The others played on, while Yuri added the card to the back of his hand. This is it, he thought. He’d put all of his money on this one hand. He didn’t even have enough left for a drink—not that he needed another.

  “The moment of truth, Yuri,” the dealer called.

  Yuri looked up to find everyone watching him. He tried to keep a relaxed expression as he turned back to his hand. Spreading the cards ever so slowly, he saw the situation for what it was. A losing hand. The king of spades almost seemed to laugh at him.

  The dealer laughed as Yuri threw down the cards. “Maybe better luck next round.”

  Yuri got to his feet. He swayed for a moment, feeling the effects of the liquor he’d consumed. “Not tonight. I’m busted.”

  He stalked from the room and slipped into the darkness of the night. It was well past ten, and his folks would no doubt be worried about him. Yuri didn’t care. His plan had come to nothing. He had only accomplished bringing shame on himself. Why couldn’t he be as good as Dalton? All of his life, Yuri had wanted to be like Dalton Lindquist. Even as boys, Dalton had always seemed to accomplish anything he set out to do. Yuri envied him then, but especially now.

  How was it that Dalton could just inherit great sums of money? Why was that fair? Yuri had worked hard all of his life. He’d enjoyed his father’s approval and teachings. He’d been happy when Dalton had joined them in the business. But now Yuri just felt jealous— angry that Dalton should have it so easy.

  He will make his own business, Yuri thought. He will marry Phoebe and he will have everything he wants, while I have nothing.

  What was to become of Yuri after his father and mother left for Russia? Could he manage the business and keep a profit coming in as his father had? Yuri doubted his own ability to do so. He had never had a head for numbers, and even when his father had tried to teach him bookkeeping, Yuri had struggled.

  Approaching his house, Yuri stopped and tried to clear his head. He couldn’t risk his father knowing that he’d been drinking. He would never hear the end of arguments about why such things were foolish.

  “I am a man,” he said, shaking his fist at the house. “I can do as I please.”

  “Yuri?”

  He started at his name being called. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me, Maxim,�
�� his brother answered. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Why?”

  His brother approached, but darkness kept his face veiled. “I was worried about you.”

  “That’s stupid,” Yuri said in a gruff manner that he hoped would send Maxim back to bed. “I am a man.”

  “So I heard you declare,” Maxim said. “You are also drunk.”

  “What of it? I have a right to do as I please.” Yuri staggered forward and put his hands on Maxim’s shoulders to steady himself.

  “You are but a child.”

  “I’m old enough to know the truth of what you’re doing to yourself. Mama is so fretful. You have caused her great pain.”

  Yuri didn’t want to hear the truth. He pushed away, nearly falling backward. “I am going to bed,” he announced. “You can stand out here all night if you like.”

  “No. I’ll help you. Otherwise, you’ll wake the entire house, and we’ll all hear from Father on the dangers of hard drink.” He pulled Yuri’s arm around his shoulder and steadied him. “Come on. I’ll get you to bed.”

  Yuri said nothing. He knew if he spoke he might well start to cry. He felt so broken inside, and it frightened Yuri to the depths of his soul.

  “The sickness isn’t as bad as we’d feared,” Zee told Evie and Phoebe. “It appears to be a milder form of scarlet fever. The chills last much longer and the fever comes on in a slower manner. Many of the Tlingits have already had the disease and so are not succumbing.”

  “The doctor saw Lydia and the girls,” Evie told her. “He felt they were making an adequate recovery. He suggested warm vinegar wraps around the throat for Lydia. For the girls, he told us to use this soap and wash them daily, then rub seal or candlefish oil over their skin.” She took out a cake of soap and held it up.

  Zee nodded. “We should lay in a supply. I’ll talk to Kjell. Lydia is a few days behind the girls in this, so she’ll soon need it.”

  “So the danger has passed?” Phoebe asked.

  “Hopefully,” Zee replied. “Yet there are sometimes complications. Scarlet fever can affect the heart and kidneys. We’ll keep administering care and medicine; that’s all we can do for the time being, besides pray.”

  “When can we expect the epidemic to abate?” Evie questioned, slipping the soap back into her apron pocket.

  “I think another week or so will show a turning in the tide.” Zee went to the kitchen counter and checked the milk pail. “Kjell will bring you more milk this evening. It’s really the best thing we can give them. I wish we had a hundred milk cows instead of just one.”

  “Perhaps we can pray that God will multiply the milk as He did the loaves and fishes,” Phoebe said with a smile.

  Zee flashed a grin. “Perhaps.”

  Phoebe waited until Evie had gone to bathe the girls before peeking in on Dalton’s mother. Surprised to see Lydia awake, Phoebe stepped into the room.

  “Do you need anything?” Phoebe asked. “Are you warm enough?” She went to the fireplace and added a log.

  “I’m better,” Lydia said with a heavy breath. “I feel so tired and weak.”

  Drawing up the chair, Phoebe sat down beside Dalton’s mother.

  She looked small and frail. “It’s to be expected. You have made great progress, however.”

  “How are the girls?”

  “They are much better. Evie is washing them with the soap given us by the doctor. It should help with the itching and the scaling.”

  Lydia nodded and closed her eyes. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for us. I know Evie and Zee are grateful for your help.”

  “Zee says things aren’t as bad as they’d feared in the village. Hopefully by the time Dalton makes it back, the sickness will be over and he’ll be able to come ashore.”

  Lydia looked at Phoebe and smiled. “I know you miss him greatly.”

  “I do. But certainly no more than you do.”

  “He cares for you,” Lydia murmured.

  “I know. I care for him, as well. He asked me to wait for him.” She wasn’t sure why she’d shared that with Lydia, but now that the words were out, Phoebe was glad.

  “I thought he might.” She gave a weak smile. “And what was your response?”

  “I said yes, of course.”

  “So we will most likely have two weddings before the year’s out,” Lydia said, meeting Phoebe’s gaze.

  There was no need for pretense. “I certainly hope so,” Phoebe replied. “I love him. I want you to know that. It happened quite suddenly, and I never expected to feel so much for another person, but I cannot imagine my life without him.”

  Lydia’s expression betrayed her pleasure at Phoebe’s announcement. “I’m so glad. Dalton is a good man, but he will need a strong woman to stand beside him.”

  “Just as Mr. Lindquist needed you.”

  “I suppose that’s true, but I feel that I needed him ever so much more.”

  Phoebe could see that Lydia was tiring. “You should rest now. I will be back to check on you very soon.”

  Lydia reached up her hand and Phoebe took hold of it. “Thank you. I will pray that your marriage will be filled with all the blessings that God can bestow.”

  Phoebe smiled. Lydia had spoken of her marriage to Dalton so casually that she couldn’t help but feel aflutter with excitement.

  Oh please, God, bring him home safe and soon. I miss him so.

  Dalton had been in Seattle for three days before he realized that one of the three letters Phoebe’s father had deposited in his care was addressed to him. Mr. Robbins had said nothing about it, and Dalton had presumed the letter was for his sons.

  He couldn’t imagine what Robbins would have to say to him in a letter. Perhaps he had felt it important to reiterate his approval about Dalton and Phoebe marrying. Opening the envelope, Dalton began to skim the contents. A cold dread crept over him.

  And so it is with great regret that I must go. It gives me comfort to know that you will be there for my family. Knowing that you hold family dear, I believe I can count on you to care for them long after I’m gone.

  Shaking his head, Dalton reread the letter from the beginning. What was Robbins saying? There was an odd air of finality to his words that left Dalton with a great sense of unrest. He looked at the other letters and wondered what Robbins had penned to his wife and daughter.

  Dalton took the letters in hand and turned them over. Neither was sealed. Should he open them and read the contents? It would be an invasion of privacy, but Dalton felt almost frantic to know what Robbins had written.

  “Maybe I’m assuming too much,” he said aloud. He looked at his own letter again. There was a definite tone that suggested Robbins was bidding Dalton good-bye. “It’s not my imagination.”

  Dalton dropped the letter on the bed and took up the envelope that Robbins had addressed to his wife.

  My dearest Bethel,

  So long I have loved you, and for so long I have burdened you with my shame. You have suffered at my side, bearing more than any good wife should have to bear. I have loved you more dearly than any husband has ever loved his mate. You have been my all—my very breath. Please know that you hold no responsibility in the decision that I now make. Please tell my children that they were dear to me, and that I held great pride in them.

  When I announced my resignation to Lyman, I knew that I was making a decision that should have been made years ago. As I resign my life, I feel much the same. The decision should have been made a long time ago to save my family from the pain and sorrow that has haunted us these many years.

  Dalton’s hand trembled. It was exactly as he feared.

  Forgive me, Bethel, for I am but a weak man and haven’t the strength to go on. Dalton Lindquist has just asked to marry our daughter. I have given him my blessing, and I know that he will care for you and the boys, as well. It is the only thing that gives me any peace of mind in leaving you.

  Feeling as though the wind had been knocked from him,
Dalton sank to the bed and shook his head. Robbins meant to end his life.

  “What is to be done?” The ship was long gone and Robbins with it. By now, the man might even be dead. Dalton wished fervently that his mother or father might be there so he could consult them. “Dear God,” he prayed, “what should I do about this?”

  Chapter 22

  November 1889

  Dalton arrived back in Sitka on the twenty-third of the month. The new mail steamer, The City of Topeka, had provided him a comfortable journey on this, her maiden voyage to Alaska. Dalton had heard the crew say that this was only the first of many trips to come, as the ship would become their primary postal transport.

  He also learned that scarlet fever had afflicted the town in his absence and prayed that his family had not suffered from the disease. He couldn’t recall ever having had the sickness himself, and he feared for his little sisters. His biggest worry, however, was how to share the news of Mr. Robbins’ death with his family.

  He scanned the crowd of people who’d come to the dock. There was no sign of his father or mother, but then, they hadn’t known he would arrive today. Dalton toyed with the idea of going home first. It was a cold, rainy Saturday, so perhaps his father and mother would be available to accompany him to the Robbinses’ house. He hated the idea of going alone.

  His own investigation of Mr. Robbins’ trip to California had revealed he had succeeded in his intention: Dalton had it confirmed that he had jumped from the ship and drowned. Dalton was at a loss as to how he would break the news to Phoebe and her family. He had, in fact, thought of saying nothing—of hiding the letters Robbins had given him. But he couldn’t abide the lies and secrets that had marred his own life. It would be painful for them to know the truth of what Mr. Robbins had done, but Dalton couldn’t protect them from it. Soon enough the authorities would be in touch, and it was better that the news come from someone who cared about them.

  “But what do I say?” There was no easy way to break news of this type. Maybe it would be better to seek advice from his family first.