Brides of Alaska

by Peterson, Tracie;

  “It’s more than that, Julie. I wanted to have a family. I want to get married and be a father. I want a home of my own, something I can build up with my own hands. I want to have a purpose and be needed by others and to need them in return. I just don’t belong here with you and your husband.”

  “But Sam’s your best friend,” Julie protested.

  “I know, I know, and you’re my only living relative. That’s my point. I don’t want to die without leaving something behind,” August answered.

  “But if you go off to war and get yourself killed, you won’t have a chance to marry and have a family. I can’t lie and say I’m not relieved,” Julie finally admitted. “When the Nome Nugget started reporting the facts of the war, I cringed. I wasn’t sure what Sam’s response would be, or yours for that matter.

  “I cried tears of joy when Sam told me he was too old to go. I’m just as happy to have you stay here, but my heart is broken for your anguish. Please don’t hate me for wanting you to stay safe.”

  “I don’t hate you, Julie. I couldn’t hate you or anyone else, but right now I’m pretty confused and plenty unhappy,” August said and got to his feet. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “It’s awfully cold out there,” Julie said and bit her tongue. No sense in mothering August; he’ll only resent it.

  “I know,” August said, pulling his parka on. “I shouldn’t be too long. Maybe I’ll run some of the dogs.”

  “If you see Sam out there,” Julie said, trying to sound disinterested in August’s plans, “would you mind sending him my way?”

  “Not at all,” August replied and started to leave. “Oh, I’m sorry about the mud, Jewels. I can clean it up for you.”

  “Never mind,” Julie said and waved him on. “You just get to feeling better. I’ll have some lunch in about an hour.”

  Julie watched her brother leave in silence. She ached for him and went to the living room determined to pray.

  August kicked at the snow as he walked. He’d never known a time in his life when he’d felt so completely useless. Nothing in his life seemed right, and he’d lost all faith in the trust he’d once placed in God.

  Forty-one didn’t seem all that old to August. He felt vital and young. He could run thirty or more miles a day with his dogs, and he was never sick. How could the army tell him he was too old?

  Without realizing what he was doing, August hitched a team of dogs to a sled. He hardly gave the process a second thought as he attached his lead dog first, then swing dogs, team dogs, and finally wheel dogs.

  Each dog had his own special talent, and those who were weak were quickly weeded out and put to death. The harsh elements of the North didn’t allow for anyone, be they man or beast, to exist without purpose. Perhaps that’s why August felt so misplaced and out of sorts. He didn’t have any real purpose.

  August moved the dogs out without any particular destination in mind. He enjoyed watching the muscular frames of the dogs as they ran with a hearty eagerness.

  Many Alaskans had traded in their dogs and sleds for gas-powered snow machines, but August found the dogs more dependable. The machines were always breaking down, and often they were incapable of withstanding the subzero temperatures. August reasoned it was impossible to gain warmth from steel and wood if you were stranded in the wilds, but a dog was good to curl up with when the north wind pounded blades of ice into your skin. He’d take his dogs over machines any day.

  The dogs worked their way down the roadway to Nome, and when August realized he was nearly at the edge of town, he couldn’t decide what to do with himself.

  He spoke to no one and didn’t offer so much as a wave when people greeted him. He simply anchored his dogs and walked into a nearby café. The look on his face as he pushed back his parka hood was enough to keep people at a distance. Everyone, that is, except his brother-in-law, who entered the restaurant from out of nowhere, on August’s heels.

  Sam Curtiss ignored August’s scowl and motioned the waitress to bring coffee.

  “Do you think it will help?” Sam asked, taking a seat opposite August.

  “What are you talking about?” August growled.

  “Feeling sorry for yourself,” Sam said with a grin. “Do you think it will help?”

  “If you’re here to preach at me, Sam, you can just forget it,” August said, refusing to look Sam in the eye.

  Sam waited while an older woman poured two cups of thick, black coffee. When she was out of earshot, Sam leaned forward.

  “I hadn’t planned to preach,” he replied. “I just wondered if you were feeling any better.”

  “No,” August answered flatly. “I don’t feel any better, and I don’t expect talking to you to make any difference.”

  “Maybe you should give it a try,” Sam said, taking a drink. He eyed a questioning look at August.

  “Maybe I’d rather be alone,” August said firmly. “I don’t need you here, Sam. I don’t need anybody. The army doesn’t want me, women don’t seek out my company, and God has apparently deserted me.”

  “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

  “I don’t know what I believe anymore, Sam.” August stared at the steaming cup for a moment before pushing it away. “I trusted God for a full life, and instead I’m left with an emptiness and void that won’t be filled. Why should I go on trusting Him when He’s left me to stand alone?”

  “Think about your words, August. When you accepted Christ as your Savior, was somebody standing there with a list of prizes? Did you think you’d won the All-Alaska Sweepstakes?”

  “Don’t be snide with me, Sam. I know God didn’t offer me a prize package. He did say, however, that I could ask for anything in the name of His Son. He promised to give me the desires of my heart if I put Him first in my life. So where’s the fulfillment of that promise?”

  “Your life certainly isn’t over, August. Why not be patient and let God guide your steps? It isn’t a game of, ‘I’ll give you this, Lord, and You give me that.’”

  “I never said it was,” August protested as he sank back against his chair.

  “Besides, you’ve had a very good life,” Sam reasoned. “Be patient, because God will work a miracle when you least expect it. Just look at your sister and me. I wasn’t much younger than you are now when she came into my life.

  “I’d been praying most all of my adult life for a Christian wife and, although I knew the chances of one coming to me in the wilds of Alaska were slim, God moved. God hasn’t left you alone, August. You must have the faith to get beyond this disappointment.”

  “It’s more than the disappointment, Sam. I just don’t know that I can trust God with my heart anymore. Things that once seemed clear and inspiring are just rhetoric now.”

  “Then remember Psalm 37:23–24: ‘The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord: and he delighteth in his way. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down: for the Lord upholdeth him with his hand.’ God hasn’t deserted you,” Sam stressed. “Have faith that He can get you through this dark time, and you’ll soon be walking in light again.”

  August shook his head. “I don’t think I care anymore.”

  Sam finished his coffee and stood with a smile on his face. “Oh, you care, August. That’s what’s grieving you so much. You care because you know the truth of the Word. Once you’ve tasted the truth, Satan’s lies can’t guide you into any kind of peace. I’m glad you’re troubled and in turmoil right now. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t.”

  “I don’t get it,” August said as he cast a doubtful look at his older friend. “You’re glad I feel this way?”

  “I’m not glad that you’re hurting, but I’m glad that you’re struggling against the feelings that are threatening to bury you. You aren’t fighting God, August. You’re fighting yourself and what you thought God had planned out for your life. Why not go back to Him and seek the answers you’re looking for?”

  “What if He doesn’t listen?” August questio
ned softly.

  Sam nodded knowingly. “What man hasn’t asked himself that question? You’ve got to believe, August. You’ve just got to step forward and trust God to be there. Now, I’m going home for an overdue lunch. You coming?”

  “I guess so,” August said as he got to his feet. “There’s no reason to sit here.”

  As August walked out the door of the café, a copy of the local newspaper caught his eyes. “MILITARY HIGHWAY TO REQUIRE CIVILIAN HELP,” the headline read. August paid the waitress for a copy of the paper and followed Sam into the street.

  “Look at this,” August said as he scanned the article. “The army is building a road through Canada, the Yukon, and on up to Fairbanks. It says here because of the threat of the Japanese attacking Alaska, the US government feels it’s imperative to have access to the territory.”

  “There’s always water routes and air travel. I can’t imagine why they’re willing to go to the cost of building a road through the wilderness,” Sam said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

  “Well, the paper says that military sources fear the Japanese might have the capability to deny ships passage through the waterways and that their aircraft would be able to shoot down our military planes. It also says they need civilian forces to help the military units with clearing areas for the road and new airstrips.”

  Sam noticed excitement in August’s voice. “I’d imagine an experienced hand at road building would be a tremendous asset,” he suggested quietly.

  August looked up from the paper with a grin. “I was just thinking that myself. This road will change Alaska’s destiny forever. They’re bound to make us a state after this.”

  “It’s an awful long ways off,” Sam said, wondering if August was seriously considering the job.

  “Maybe it’s just the right distance to start a new life,” August said as he refolded the paper. “I’m going to do it, Sam. I’m going to go build me a road and change my own destiny.”

  Chapter 3

  Beth Hogan worked the dough that would soon be delicious loaves of wheat bread. The kitchen already boasted the aroma of wild berry jelly cooking down, and Beth was grateful for the extra warmth of the stove. The day had turned chilly as a mountain thunderstorm hovered in the distance.

  Taking a moment from her task, Beth looked out the window to check on her sons. They were playing happily in the backyard, mindless of the threatening storm. At three and five, the boys were growing up almost faster than Beth liked to see.

  Glancing past the boys to the mountains that lined the southern horizon, Beth smiled. There had been so much uncertainty when she’d left Canada the previous year, but when she’d stepped from the plane and viewed the panoramic glory, she had declared this piece of Alaska heaven on earth and arranged for a home for herself and her children.

  The land hadn’t disappointed her, nor had the people. She had been eagerly welcomed into the caring arms of neighbors and new friends, including an elderly woman who most called Granny Gantry.

  Granny had a run-down roadhouse, catering mostly to those who traveled the worn path that residents called a road. While spending the winter of 1941 under Granny’s protective wing, Beth had learned a great deal.

  Day after day, Beth helped to transform the roadhouse into a prosperous business by adding homey touches. She made rag rugs for the floor and sewed new curtains for the windows. It wasn’t long before Beth was even a fair hand at chopping wood and patching walls.

  Granny had been pleased with the additional help and company. She seemed to thrive on spoiling the boys by making them special treats. Granny was also a source of Christian fellowship, and Beth relished their times of devotions when the older woman would share her views and knowledge of God.

  When Granny passed away suddenly in the spring of ’42, Beth again felt the pain of separation. She quickly purchased the property and continued to run the roadhouse, but it wasn’t the same without Granny’s smiling face.

  Shaking off the past, Beth took a deep breath and returned her gaze to the children. They were so little and innocent, but she knew it would only be a heartbeat and they’d be grown. She wondered if they’d be called to war as had so many other mother’s sons. She’d already lost a husband to war; would she lose her children, too?

  A cold, ominous cloud had settled over the country since the attack on Pearl Harbor, and there wasn’t a citizen from Nome to Tok who hadn’t felt fear. The entire world was at war, but Alaskans felt the distance between their homeland and the Japanese empire narrow considerably as rumors of impending attacks ran rampant.

  Deaths mounted on both sides, each fighting for what they believed to be right. How long would they battle? How many would have to die? No doubt many more would give their lives before the evil that surged throughout Europe and Asia was taken captive and defeated.

  Wiping her hands on her apron and seeking to put thoughts of death and war from her, Beth returned to kitchen chores. Business was booming with the arrival of the US Army. They’d come to build a road, a road that everyone said would protect Alaska from the Japanese and one day link the territory to the rest of the world.

  Newspapers throughout the nation boasted stories of the undertaking. They likened it to pioneer trailblazing and merited the army with the civilizing of the Alaskan territory. Surveyors were already placing their marks upon the land at Beth’s front door.

  Now that the national eye was turned upon the rugged wilderness of Alaska, Beth Hogan had little trouble keeping her children fed and clothed. Instead of a roadhouse where people stopped only on their way to somewhere else, Beth found her home becoming a boardinghouse where customers stayed on a more permanent basis.

  The onslaught of new business also helped Beth keep her mind occupied. She still thought of JB and the empty place that his absence had created in her life, but the memories didn’t cause her as much pain as they had at first. Sometimes she could laugh or smile at a pleasant memory of her husband.

  She kept the picture of JB in a prominent place in the living room, and whenever the boys asked her questions about their father, Beth would try to share bits and pieces of his life.

  Just then, Gerald came bursting through the door. “Momma! Momma! Guess what!”

  “Calm down, Gerald, and lower your voice,” Beth said sternly. She kneaded the bread dough into loaves and placed them in greased pans. “Now, take a deep breath and tell me what you’re so excited about.”

  “I saw boats way down the river. Can Phillip and I go to town and see them up close?” Gerald was still panting from the excitement and his run up to the house.

  “Absolutely not,” Bethany answered. She turned and put the bread in the oven, unaware of the look of disappointment that crossed Gerald’s face. “Haven’t I told you boys how dangerous the river is? You mustn’t go there alone.”

  “But it looks like fun, Momma. Please let us go see the boats,” Gerald begged.

  “No, son. You have to obey me on this because it’s very important,” Beth said as she knelt beside her five-year-old. “Do you understand?”

  “Uh-huh,” Gerald replied as he nodded his head. “It’s important.”

  “Yes,” Beth said as she tousled the child’s brown hair. “It’s very important. I know you’re a big boy and you by yourself might do all right down by the water, but Phillip is too little and he might fall in. As his big brother, it’s your job to see to it that he’s safe—especially since your father isn’t here to watch over him.”

  “Will Daddy see me watching my brother?”

  “I imagine so,” Beth said as she straightened up and lifted Gerald into her arms. “I love you both very much. Now, why don’t you go outside and keep an eye on Phillip for me?”

  “Okay,” Gerald said and placed a big kiss on his mother’s cheek. “I’ll be a big help.”

  “I’m sure you will be.” Beth kissed her son and put him down. As he bounded out the door, her mind filled with worry. Had she said enough to prevent Gerald and Philli
p’s wanderings? She loved them so much, but then she’d loved JB even more and it hadn’t kept him from adversity.

  She went back to work with her mind only half on her tasks. She nearly burned the bread and scorched the jam, all the while thinking of how vulnerable her children were. Finally, Beth took herself to her writing desk and pulled out a Bible.

  “Lord,” she prayed, “I know that worry won’t save them, but You can. Father, I can’t imagine how You ever sent Your Son, Jesus, to a world You knew would hurt Him. I fear letting my sons from my sight for even a minute. I can’t bear the thought that they might get hurt or killed. Please watch over them and care for them. I know JB is in heaven, Lord, and that gives me comfort, but please let me keep my children here with me and let them be safe in my care. Let me be a wise mother, God.”

  She opened the Bible and scanned Psalm 127:3–5: “Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward. As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth. Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them….”

  Beth smiled, remembering that these verses had been some of JB’s favorites. He’d always planned to have a big family, or a “full quiver,” as he’d often teased.

  “These children are gifts from You, Lord,” Beth said with confidence. “I place them in Your hands, Father, and I ask for Your protection of them. Amen.”

  Glancing at her watch, Beth realized that she was falling behind schedule. Leaving her worries at the feet of her Lord, she returned to her list of duties.

  Late that May, August had arrived in eastern Alaska. He was more than a little anxious about applying for work on the highway. Even though he’d heard they’d take anyone who could work, August still felt the sting of the army’s earlier rejection and wondered if the rumors were true.

  August gazed across the valley where rows of tents had been erected to house the army. Beyond these were olive drab vehicles and heavy construction equipment. The entire landing buzzed with activity while soldiers and civilians rushed to accomplish the business of the day.