Romancing the Klondike

by Donadlson-Yarmey, Joan;

  “What should we do?” Donald asked, a worried look on his face.

  “I don’t know.” Sam shook his head. “If it’s like the last couple of times he’ll show up sometime tonight or tomorrow and act like nothing happened.”

  “And if it isn’t?”

  Sam shrugged. “Then I guess we will have to look for him.”

  They ate supper and climbed into their bunks. It had been a long day and tomorrow would be the same.

  Sam woke early the next morning. He reached up and didn’t feel anyone in Gordon’s bunk. He laid back and groaned. Gordon hadn’t come back during the night. Sam got up and started a fire to warm the cabin.

  Donald rolled over and looked down at the middle bunk. He raised his eyes to Sam.

  Sam shrugged. “He didn’t come back.”

  “What are we going to do?” Donald climbed off his bunk and dressed.

  “I don’t know. I have no idea where he could have gone so I don’t know where to start looking.”

  Before eating their breakfast they went outside and over to Sam’s claim. There was a small mound of dirt beside a shallow hole, the result of their efforts the day before. They now lit another fire and left it to thaw the next six inches of the ground. As they returned to the clearing of their cabin, they stopped. The door of their cabin was open.

  “I’m sure I shut it,” Donald said.

  “Maybe Gordon has returned.”

  They cautiously walked to the door and peeked in. Gordon was stuffing the cans of food from his bunk into his backpack.

  “Hi, Gordon,” Sam said. He and Donald casually stepped inside and closed the door.

  Gordon looked at them. “I’m taking the tent.”

  “Okay,” Sam said, warily. He wanted to ask where he was going but he didn’t dare. He didn’t want to say anything that would upset his friend.

  “I can’t trust you guys any more. I’m going to my own claim.”

  Sam glanced at Donald. Where had Gordon gotten that idea?

  Donald shrugged.

  “Do you want us to help you?” Sam asked.

  “Why? So you can get me out of here faster?” Gordon demanded.

  “No, we’d actually like you to stay.”

  “Harumph. So you can steal more of my food?”

  “It’s all our food,” Donald said. “We bought it together.”

  “No!” Gordon yelled. “These belong to me and Sam keeps stealing them.” He glared at Sam then continued his packing, shoving his clothes in on top of the cans.

  Sam started to protest and then he understood. Yesterday morning he’d taken a can of milk from the ones on Gordon’s bed to pour over his oatmeal.

  “I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I’ll replace it next time I go to Fortymile.”

  Gordon ignored him. He slung the backpack on his back and pulled the folded tent from under the bottom bunk. He stomped outside. Sam and Donald stood in the doorway and watched as Gordon disappeared into the bush.

  “Now what do we do?” Donald asked.

  “All we can do is keep an eye on him in case he needs anything and hope he comes to his senses before winter sets in.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Pearl and Emma each took out a pot of sourdough bread from the small oven on the side of the stove and set them on the table. They had made six loaves, one for them, and the remaining for Paul and some other men who lived in the tents.

  It wasn’t much but they were making a small profit. They were also discussing baking pies or cakes for sale. However, they would need to stock up on flour and salt before then.

  Pearl sat down at the table and tried to block out the noise as she continued to write about her life in her new home. She wasn’t sure if it would be an article for the newspaper or just for her own enjoyment in the future.

  She hadn’t realized how much she’d liked the quiet of the area until the sawmill had begun operation. Now, because of the demand, Joseph had hired men to help him and he was running it all day and well into the night. He’d begun construction on the first building in his town, a warehouse on Front Street. Then he wanted to build a cabin for himself. And there was a long list of men wanting lumber for their own projects.

  There was a cough outside their tent. It must be one of the men for his loaf of bread. Emma pushed the flap open.

  “Good morning, Paul,” Emma said.

  Pearl turned towards the front of the tent and saw Paul standing in the doorway. She wondered if something was wrong.

  “I’m on my way to Fortymile to buy some supplies and I was wondering if you need anything.”

  “Oh, yes,” Emma said. “I’ll quickly write a list if you have time to wait.”

  “I’ll wait out here.”

  Pearl reached under the table and pulled out three envelopes, one large and two small. She carried them and some money for stamps outside to Paul. “Would you be able to get these envelopes in the mail on the boat?”

  “Your articles?”

  “Yes, and illustrations. And letters to our families letting them know we’re okay. I’ve also asked my parents for more pencils, writing paper, and sketch pads to be sent in the spring.”

  Emma stepped out with a list and more money. She handed them to Paul. “Thank you,” she said. “We were wondering how we were going to get more food and we need loaf pans and pie plates.”

  “You’re going to make pies?” Paul’s face lit up.

  “We’re thinking of it.”

  “I will buy one, when you do.”

  “You’ll be the first on our list of customers,” Emma smiled.

  “I’ll be back with your supplies day after tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” Pearl said. “This is very kind of you.”

  Paul smiled shyly at her, touched his hat with his hand, and left.

  Pearl and Emma stood in the doorway and watched him walk away.

  “He would make good husband material,” Emma smiled mischievously at Pearl, as they stepped back in the tent. “I think he likes you.”

  Pearl felt herself blushing. She had noticed his glances, but she wanted to explore her feelings for Joseph Ladue.

  * * *

  Donald picked up his full backpack and headed to the door. “I’ll be back in a week, longer if I have trouble.”

  “I should be coming with you,” Sam said. “It will get done faster with two of us.”

  “I still think one of us should stay here and keep an eye on Gordon,” Donald countered. “And with your little buddy, Gregory, stopping in all the time, we could return and find he has moved into our cabin.”

  Sam laughed. “Okay. I’ll try and get the wood cut for the windlass while you are gone.”

  Sam watched Donald leave. Between lighting fires and digging muck they had worked the gravel through their pans until the creek had begun to freeze. The gold they found had been enough to raise their hopes. This finally might be the big one. But Donald had more on his mind than finding gold and that was taking over his thoughts and actions. Sam just had to let him work it out.

  After Donald left, Sam walked over to Gordon’s claim. He could see his breath in the cold air. Winter would be here soon. He and Donald took turns each day visiting Gordon. They kept him informed of how deep they had gone in their shaft, they invited him to meals, or they just talked. But Gordon didn’t seem interested in anything they had to say. He seldom answered, just grunted or ignored them.

  Sam and Donald had tried to figure out when Gordon had started to change. They remembered a few times in the past two years when Gordon had acted out of character, wanting to stay in the cabin instead of going to the saloon, getting angry when it really wasn’t necessary, refusing to shave or even comb his hair. But these actions had come and gone, so neither Sam nor Donald had taken them seriously. Now they did, now when it seemed there was nothing they could do to help him.

  Sam stopped a few steps from where Gordon had set up the tent. “Gordon? It’s me, Sam.” He waited, never knowing what to
expect. Sometimes Gordon was friendly, sometimes he chased him away. Occasionally, Gordon wasn’t in the tent. He never told them where he went but they assumed he wandered the area much like Gregory.

  “Go away.” Gordon growled.

  “Donald has gone for a few days. I’m going to make some lunch and was wondering if you wanted to join me.”

  There was no reply.

  “I’m coming in.” Sam lifted the flap and waited until his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Gordon didn’t have a stove for heat, nor had he taken any candles for light. He was curled up in his bed on the ground. He hadn’t shaved in weeks and his hair was shaggy and dirty.

  The pang of guilt Sam felt every time he saw Gordon jabbed him again. Maybe if he had let Gordon leave when he wanted, maybe if he hadn’t insisted they check out Henderson’s gold find, or maybe if he had bought Gordon’s claim so he could take the last boat out, Gordon would be home and happy now.

  “The days are getting colder and snow will be coming soon,” Sam said. “You should move back in with us for the winter.”

  “I’m fine here.”

  Sam looked at the plate of beans Donald had delivered the day before. The food was only half eaten and frozen. He picked it up.

  “Please come with me,” Sam pleaded.

  Gordon turned his face away.

  Sam left the tent and went back to the cabin. Along the way he scraped the food off the plate. He put more wood in the stove and stirred rehydrated potatoes and bacon in the frying pan for his noon meal. Some light came through the flour sack window and, combined with the fire in the stove, lit the cabin enough that he didn’t need a candle. That would change as soon as dusk arrived. He took the frying pan to the table and sat down. Since he was the only one there he decided to just eat out of the pan. No need to dirty a plate for nothing.

  There was a timid knock at the door.

  “Come in,” Sam called.

  The door opened and Gregory peeked around the edge. “Hi,” he said, brightly. His eyes scanned the room.

  “Hi,” Sam smiled. “Come in. Mr. Baker isn’t here.”

  The boy entered and closed the door behind him. He took off his coat and hung it up on a peg by the door. Everyone kept on their boots.

  “Do your parents know you are here?” Sam asked. For some reason Gregory had decided he liked Sam and had taken to visiting him every few days. Sam had set some rules, such as knocking on the door before entering, not touching something without permission, and making sure that Gregory had let his parents know he was coming. If he didn’t he would be sent back.

  Gregory’s only rule was that he wouldn’t stay if Gordon was around.

  “Yes,” Gregory said. He stared at the pan in Sam’s hand.

  “Did you eat?”

  Gregory shook his head.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Well, we had something, but not very much.”

  “Do you want some potatoes and bacon?”

  Gregory’s face brightened. He nodded.

  Sam got a plate and scooped some food onto it. So much for not dirtying an extra dish. He pushed it in front of Gregory and gave him a fork. Sam had grown fond of the boy. Gregory had the exuberance and eagerness of the young. He wanted to learn and constantly asked questions, and he wanted to help, sometimes to the point where he got in the way.

  Sam knew that Gregory also spent a lot of time exploring the area he now called his neighbourhood. But he was a good boy and he listened to Sam. Sam wasn’t sure if he should admit it, but he enjoyed Gregory’s company. He liked seeing things through a child’s eyes.

  “What are we going to do today?” Gregory asked.

  “We’re going to cut lumber to make a windlass.”

  “My dad did that last week.”

  “Good,” Sam said. “Since you know how to do it, I’ll leave it for you to cut the pieces while I have a nap.”

  “I can’t use the saw by myself,” Gregory sputtered.

  “Okay, then we’ll do it together.”

  Sam smiled to himself. The first time Gregory came he’d talked about all the things he’d done with his father. But, like most kids his age, it was sometimes more exciting to spend time with someone other than your parents.

  Sam and Gregory washed the dishes then put on their coats, hats, and mitts and went outside. It was snowing lightly. Within a couple of hours they had cut most of the lumber Sam needed for the windlass. It was a simple piece of equipment but was an important one for digging for gold in the winter.

  Sam saw two men walking up the frozen creek towards them lugging large packs on their backs.

  “Hi,” one of them said. “I’m Harold Wilson and this is Bert Scott. We’re looking for Eight Above Bonanza.”

  “I’m Sam Owens.” He reached out to shake the men’s hands. “This is Four Above so it’s four claims over. You buy it?”

  “Yes, and we’re hoping to get a cabin built before it snows too much.”

  “I’ll come and help you build the cabin,” Gregory said, eagerly. “I’m a good worker.”

  Harold looked at Sam.

  “This is Gregory Drury. His parents are up on Eldorado Creek. He comes here to visit once in a while.”

  “Well, thank you, young Gregory,” Harold said. “We will let you know if we need you.”

  Sam smiled because he knew that Gregory wasn’t going to be deterred that easily.

  “I can split wood and I helped Sam saw some lumber for a windlass today.”

  “You sound like a hard worker,” Bert said.

  Gregory’s chest stuck out. “I am and I’m tough, too.”

  “We’re just going to set up our tent for now and look around,” Harold explained.

  “I’ll drop by tomorrow.” Gregory nodded his head as if that settled the matter.

  “Maybe you should give them a few days to settle in,” Sam suggested. “They’ll need to unpack and decide where they want their cabin before they can do anything.”

  Gregory thought it over. “You’re right,” he agreed, looking up at Sam. “And we have work to do here.”

  Sam smiled at Gregory’s use of ‘we.’ “Yes, we do,” he said, and nodded at the men as they continued up the creek to their claim.

  * * *

  Pearl added more wood to the fire, then went back to the table and picked up her pencil with cold fingers. It was mid-October. The temperature during the day rose to about forty-five degrees Fahrenheit but dropped to fourteen degrees above zero during the night. The ground had frozen hard and it was always cold in their tent no matter how much wood they put in the stove. She and Emma were both glad they had brought along thick woolen underwear, woolen stockings, boots, shoes, a flannel-lined woolen dress, and a warm wool coat.

  The last boats carrying prospectors had arrived near the end of September, working their way through the slush ice that was forming on the river. But now the water was frozen out from both shores though it still flowed in the middle. Snow had fallen for the past two days. The sunlight hours were decreasing each day and by late afternoon they had to light a candle to see what they were doing. They now found the days long and boring.

  They had brought in one more chair so space was limited in their tent and there wasn’t much to do except keep the fire going to stay warm and haul water from a hole in the river ice. They had even had to quit baking bread. The fire they had to keep going was too hot and burned the loaves, and to let the fire die down to a reasonable heat meant they almost froze. It just wasn’t worth it. Paul had brought them more pans for baking bread and tins for pies but they hadn’t been able to use any of them.

  Pearl was surprised at how quickly Joseph Ladue’s town was forming. In spite of the cold, the sawmill ran all day and sometime all night. Until freeze-up, logs had been rafted down the river to the town site and piled. Joseph’s warehouse was complete and he had brought his goods and wares from his post at Ogilvie to sell from the store. He’d also built himself a cabin that had quickly become a saloon h
e named the Pioneer. Pearl saw men entering it even in the afternoon. She imagined they spent their time drinking and talking about the gold strike, because there wasn’t much else happening. She envied them a place to go and visit. She and Emma were getting tired of reading the few books they had brought, or playing cards to while away the time.

  Pearl was disappointed that she hadn’t had much chance to speak with Joseph since his sawmill was up and running. On the days that she and Emma did venture out for a walk she made a point of waving to him while he worked. He always smiled and nodded back but that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to sit down and talk with him, learn more about him, find out why she had these feelings for him.

  She’d heard that he was selling his rough lumber at $140.00 per thousand feet to the miners who were working on Bonanza and Eldorado creeks. He’d been right not to get a claim but she wasn’t sure how well he would do selling his town lots. He was offering them at between five and twenty-five dollars, depending on how close to the river they were. So far, only a couple of men had bought lots and started building cabins on them.

  “Hello, in there,” a voice called.

  Pearl glanced at Emma and saw a look of joy on her face.

  “Donald.” Emma jumped up and hurried to raise the flap. “Come in.”

  Donald stepped in, his face red from the cold.

  “What are you doing here on such a terrible day?” Emma asked. “Stand by the stove and warm up.”

  “I’ve come to build you a cabin,” Donald said, rubbing his hand together over the heat.

  “What?” Pearl and Emma looked at each other.

  “I can’t let you spend the winter in this tent. I’ve got some gold from my claim and I’m going to buy a lot from Joe. I’m sure he and a couple other men will be willing to help me put up a cabin for you.”

  “But we can’t afford to pay the men.” Pearl’s heart sank. It would be so nice to have a cabin to call home here.

  Donald smiled. “Word has gotten around that you ladies make the best sourdough bread and the men are disappointed that you don’t bake anymore. I think some of them will take a loaf or two of your bread as part payment.”