Samantha sighed. “Do you know what you’re getting into?”
“Yes. How about you?”
Peter wouldn’t lead the musketeers into danger, would he?
“I’m not sure.”
That’s what scared her the most.
Chapter 4
At sea along the Inland Passage
Other than crossing Puget Sound on his way to the Seattle seminary, Miles had never been outside of Port Orchard. He leaned on the ship’s railing, entranced by the views. They journeyed among small islands covered in evergreens, ocean birds whirling in the skies, and a variety of logging or fishing boats.
He relished the sharp ocean air. When the ship sailed close enough to land, he could smell cedar and rotting kelp on the beach. When they hit a wave, he tasted salty spray. So far the weather had been dry and sunny, just as he’d prayed.
As the Alki steamed north, they passed Indian families digging clams and fishing. Too bad the ship’s cook didn’t do the same. The fare plopped onto the crowded tables often made the passengers gag. Miles ate it only to keep hunger at bay.
Beside him, a miserable Sam hung over the railing. She paid no attention to the scenery as she heaved over the side. Miles coaxed her to sip water and nibble soda crackers, but nothing stayed down. Even the ginger root didn’t help.
Peter joined them. “Seen any killer whales?”
Sam groaned.
Miles shaded his eyes with Facts for Klondikers. “Scientists call them orcas.”
Peter lifted an eyebrow. “Do you know everything, Miles?”
“I read up on the flora and fauna. I wanted to know what I would see.”
Peter leaned on the railing. “What else do you know?”
Miles consulted his pamphlet. “As soon as we reach the end of Vancouver Island, we’ll be out of sheltered water. The seas can be fierce in Queen Charlotte’s Sound.”
Sam moaned.
Miles dared to pat her back. “Come below. Maybe they’ll serve broth today.”
Normally Sam shied away, but this time she slumped against him. “I need the head.”
Leaving Peter behind, Miles helped her downstairs, conscious they didn’t look very manly. At the bottom, they met Faye, a saucy brunette who licked her lips into a lascivious smile. “How’s our boy doing?”
Sam ducked her head and held her stomach.
“You men ready for some real entertainment yet?”
“Join us tonight,” Miles said. “I’m preaching from the book of John.”
“Not likely. But if either one of you needs a soft bed, we could find room in our berth. Especially for this one whose voice hasn’t dropped.”
“No thanks,” Miles muttered.
Faye laughed after them.
Miles watched Sam choke down the bean swill. The warm broth revived her, and she raised her head to study the jam-packed dining area. “I’ve never seen women dressed like that before.” She nodded in Faye’s direction. “Is she wearing face paint?”
Miles adjusted his glasses. “Possibly.”
“She’s very friendly.”
He concentrated on his food. “But in need of the Gospel.”
Sam peered at him. “Your whiskers are growing. It becomes you.”
He smoothed the stubble on his chin and didn’t try to hide his smile.
Two dozen Argonauts lounged against their bags smoking pungent cigars and playing cards when he opened his study Bible that evening. Miles recited John 1:10–12 from his heart.
“He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not. He came unto his own, and his own received him not. But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name.”
“Preach it, brother,” hiccupped a man brandishing a brown bottle.
Two women sat on a lifeboat swinging their legs. A half-dozen Klondikers huddled nearby, trying to make conversation. Few people seemed to be paying attention. Miles continued. The word of God did not return void, even if they pretended otherwise.
No one asked questions when he finished his sermon, so he returned to their section of the deck. Sam slept wrapped in a blanket with her carpetbag as pillow.
Peter held up his thumb. “Good job. Your father would be pleased.”
“Yours, too, I hope. He must preach to people like this.” Miles gestured to the groups of motley men.
“Probably. He’s always liked savages and rough characters. Pa said they recognized their need for a savior better than civilized folks. He knows how to talk in ways they can understand. That’s why he went to Alaska.”
Miles was always confused when Peter spoke about his father. Miles knew his friend loved and missed Donald Harris, but underlying bitterness always tainted his words. “Do you think he meant to be gone so long?”
Peter shrugged. “He was doing a good work and could not come back. That’s what Mother always said. Maybe he lost track of time. Maybe he forgot his son would like to see the world, too. He always said he’d send for me when the time was right. He needs me now and I’m coming, even if he doesn’t know it.”
“Any more thoughts on the plan? What’ll we do first?”
Peter stared at the stars prickling the twilight. “I’ve been talking with the Sourdoughs.”
Miles nodded.
“There’s good money to be made hauling other people’s cargo over the pass. I think we should do that. We can ask around for Pa while we’re working so I can repay Sam faster.”
“Do you think it’ll take long to find your pa?” Miles asked.
“Who knows? He could be anywhere.”
Miles spoke slowly. “If we found him right off, Sam could see him and then sail home. But where would she live?”
“She’ll want to stay with Pa for a while. If she decided to return, I figure your folks would take her in until classes start at the university. Sam wanted out of Port Orchard, too.” Peter snickered. “Her idea about college made Mother happy and gave her a respectable way to leave. Me, I’d rather not spend my life indoors. Sam’s more like you, wanting to teach and help people.”
A window of hope opened in his heart. “I appreciate your advice. I need to spend time in the world before I can minister to it. If I only know people like me, how will I understand how to help those not like me?”
Peter squeezed Miles’s shoulder. “You’re a good man. Thanks for coming. This adventure wouldn’t feel right without you and Sam. I’m going to walk around the ship before bedtime.”
“All for one,” Miles murmured as the boldest person he knew hopped lightly over the men sleeping on deck.
But then Peter’s words penetrated.
“What do you mean ‘repay’ Sam?”
Peter had disappeared.
Chapter 5
At sea
When the Alki entered the Queen Charlotte Straits, Samantha thought she would lose her mind as well as her stomach over the roiling, rocking, rolling waves.
On day five, however, she opened her eyes to a bright morning and felt weak but no longer nauseous. “I think I’m going to live.”
Miles closed his Bible. “You’ve finally got your sea legs. You’ll be fine the rest of the trip.”
“Promise?”
He cocked his head as if listening to something. “Yes. I brought you a cup of tea. It may still be warm.”
Samantha held the thick mug to her nose and inhaled the thin spicy scent. Before she sipped, she frowned. “What’s on your face?”
Miles’s fingers went to his left cheekbone. “Nothing.”
“Did one of those women kiss you?”
He rubbed the red mark into his flushed skin. “I don’t want to talk about it. Peter will be back soon. Let’s eat.”
Samantha swallowed the tasteless, lumpy porridge in the congested dining area and felt almost alert for the first time. Faye noticed the difference when they met her in the companionway.
“You’re looking better, honey. Mayb
e a kiss will do you good, too.”
As Miles recoiled, Sam shook her head. “No thanks.”
Faye’s enveloping perfume improved the moldy hallway. “Lover boy there may be too innocent to know,” the woman murmured, “but you’re not fooling us. Your face is too smooth and your voice and movements aren’t masculine. Be careful. Men on this ship need to be tamed or manipulated.”
Sam stuttered. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Faye’s lips twitched and her drop earrings danced. “A real man would’ve slugged me. Let me help.” She kissed Sam’s cheek. “Leave it there and the Klondikers will be envious, not suspicious.”
Laughter followed Sam and Miles’s hasty exit.
Upon return to their encampment, Samantha took in the scenery. The air smelled of ocean brine and promise. Icy blue and white glaciers glowed pink in the morning sun. Miles joined her at the railing where Sam pointed to a log sculpture on a nearby beach. “What’s that?”
“A totem pole. The Indians use them to tell stories and remember their myths.” He shuddered. “Savages.”
“But those are the type of people my father serves,” Sam said.
Miles blinked. “You’re right. But don’t you wonder if he might have served God better by staying with his family?”
Sam said nothing. Mama never allowed traitorous thoughts.
Miles tossed his head the way he always did when anxious. “I’ve seen several on shore. Pretty impressive carving.”
“Maybe Pa went to the Indians.” Sam reached for her missing necklace. “He likes to carve. Have I missed anything else?”
“Natives paddling long canoes and golden eagles soaring to the sun. Enormous trees and spectacular mountains. If I never pick up a nugget of gold, I’ll still feel I’ve gotten rich from this trip.” Miles removed his steel-framed glasses and rubbed the lenses clean.
He looked taller, somehow, in his torn and rumpled clothing. Sam fingered a tear in the sleeve of his denim shirt. “What happened here?”
“I ripped it on a nail.”
“Any other mishaps?”
He looked sideways. “Be careful around our neighbors. Most don’t like me.” He squinted at the sun. “I don’t have your father’s way with rough men.”
Samantha should have expected problems. “What happened?”
“They’re tired of being on board. I’ve knocked things over, spilled drinks, kicked luggage, the usual.”
She nodded, fluffed her dusty wool blanket, and stretched it over their bags to air. “There hasn’t been any rain. Peter must be pleased with your prayers. Where is he?”
Miles put on his glasses. “I research in books. Peter picks up information from people. He’s been learning about Alaska from Sourdoughs. We’ll be in Skagway tomorrow.”
“Wouldn’t you love to see Pa standing on the dock?”
Miles stared at her. “Yeah.”
She didn’t remember him being so focused; Miles had always been the bumbling musketeer. Confused by his intensity, she gestured at the area. “Look at this disorder. I need a broom.”
The Klondiker next door scowled when she pushed the carpetbags aside. “Watch what you’re doing, kid.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I mean it,” he bellowed.
She suppressed a chuckle. He sounded like one of her eight-year-old students. “I apologize. I’d like to straighten up.”
The man clamored to his feet. “Watch yourself,. We don’t need you sweeping anything onto our luggage. You can’t stand the stink, go home to your mama.”
Sam trembled and dropped her chin toward the deck. If she didn’t look at him, maybe he’d leave her alone.
“Hey! I’m talking to you.”
She stood tall and clenched her fists. He was half a foot shorter. “I’m trying to be a good neighbor.”
“I don’t like your lip.”
Miles spoke in a slow, reasonable voice. “Leave her alone.”
A crowd moved in their direction.
“Yeah, her. That’s a good one A regular pansy, this kid.”
Samantha turned her cheek.
“Will you look at that?” He sneered. “The little boy got himself a kiss.” He grabbed Sam’s arm. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Butterflies stormed her gut while she located her classroom voice. “I beg your pardon, sir. I assumed you were speaking to another.”
His foul breath forced her backward. “Speaking to another? He talks like a schoolmarm. You need some toughening up before you hit the north. Spending time with the sporting women is a good start, but don’t bring their marks up here to torment us. You need a lesson.”
His fist struck Sam’s jaw with a sharp pain that snapped her head and sent her reeling against the luggage.
Miles lunged, but others beat him to the man. Shoving, kicking, yelling, and the smack of fists turned the top deck into a brawl. Three men tripped over Sam. Wooden boxes scattered, along with luggage, blankets, and the dirty flotsam from a week on a crowded ship.
Sam crunched herself into a cowering ball. Peter yanked her away.
Two sailors blew shrill whistles and broke up the fight. Miles’s glasses were askew, his lip bled, and he panted with rage. His shirt had lost a sleeve.
“Miles got into a fight?” Peter snickered.
“A Klondiker hit me.” Sam rubbed her throbbing jaw.
“Which one?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. We’re supposed to turn the other cheek.”
“Not on the frontier. Turning the other cheek is a good way to get killed.”
“What do you mean?”
Peter’s eyebrows drew together. “Alaska’s far rougher than I imagined. You better stay a man as long as possible.”
“What will Pa think?”
“He’d want you safe.”
Sam touched the remains of Faye’s kiss. The task might be harder than her brother thought.
Chapter 6
Skagway, Alaska Territory
Miles’s body ached from the fistfight, but the physical pain wasn’t as bad as his disappointment when he first saw Skagway’s scraggly tents and half-finished buildings.
Ragged mountains marched to the sea at the head of the Lynn Canal and towered above the narrow Skagway River delta. The canal continued northwest through another channel between imposing peaks and ended at Dyea, where travelers could climb the arduous Chilkoot Pass to the Yukon’s Klondike River goldfields.
Miles looked from his information pamphlet to the scenery when the Alki anchored well offshore. “No dock?”
“No.” Peter pointed to log rafts headed their way. “We’ll unload onto those shallow barges and transfer ashore.”
“I’m glad I’m wearing trousers,” Sam said. “It’ll be easier to climb a rope ladder without worrying about a skirt.”
“Be thankful you’re not livestock. They have to swim ashore.” Peter strapped the blanket roll onto his carpetbag. “Let’s go.”
They met Faye, teasing and rosy, at the ladder. “I’ve got my pretty knickers on, boys, so enjoy the sight.” She tossed her bag to a stevedore and winked at Sam. “Go before me, honey. I figure I can trust you.”
Sam dropped her baggage onto the barge, grabbed the ladder, and climbed over the side. Faye’s full silk skirts slapped Sam’s face as Faye maneuvered down. Miles followed, careful to avoid squashing the sporting woman’s feathered hat.
The ship’s stevedores and anxious Argonauts manhandled crates onto the barge, rocking it with every load. Overhead slings swung out from the deck and dropped screaming horses into the cold water with a thunderous splash. One Argonaut jumped in with them, climbed onto a frantic steed, and urged the herd toward land.
Sam steadied herself on the bouncing deck. “Oh no! The poor horses. What kind of a place is this? Why is Pa here?”
Miles faced the cluster of tents and shacks nestled along the shoreline. Behind them, a black-green spruce forest separated the hamlet from ru
gged mountains. Miles swallowed. This adventure might be more dangerous than he had pictured at his seminary desk. Facts for Klondikers hadn’t mentioned Skagway’s brooding and forlorn setting.
“Isn’t this great?” Peter and two stevedores pushed off from the steamship and poled the barge toward land.
They ran aground in the stinking mudflats ten feet offshore. Argonauts shoved crates toward the rocky beach. Miles slipped into heart-stabbing icy water up to his hips. The shoals lapped to Peter’s thighs as he cheerfully hauled their goods to land.
A soaked Sam sloshed up to them. “I couldn’t decide what to do, and that Faye pushed me in.”
Miles’s face felt hot as soon as he saw her, and he peeled off his jacket. “You better wear this.”
She glanced down, gasped, and thrust her arms into the heavy sleeves. Facts for Klondikers fell from the coat pocket and floated away before Miles could grab it.
“The sporting woman needs help,” Miles muttered. Faye waved from the nearly empty barge.
Peter snorted. “Do you want to carry her ashore or shall I? Sam, grab those barrels. I bet they’re hers.”
Miles and Sam wrestled the barrels ashore, panting from the effort. Peter arrived with a flutter of Faye’s skirts and giggles. He retreated before she could bestow another florid kiss.
“Welcome to Skagway. You gents want to store your goods?” A small man wearing a friendly smile and a preacher’s collar stuck out his hand.
“Thanks.” Miles reached to shake.
“We’ll be fine.” Peter stepped between them. “Sam, you guard our gear while we scout a tent site.”
“Try east.” The preacher pointed toward the edge of town.
“Thanks.” Peter picked up two carpetbags and jerked his head north. Miles followed.
Men milled around a row of tents surrounded by stacks of wooden crates. Pounding hammers and scratching saws made a deafening noise. The air smelled of cedar. “Is it wise to leave Sam alone with the gear?”
“Wiser than leaving you,” Peter said. “She’s suspicious by nature and you’re not.”
“He was being helpful.” Miles shifted a wet canvas bag from one arm to the next. “It’s important to be polite when entering a new community.”
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