by Jamie Carie
“I’d be glad to help you. I haven’t joined up with a group yet, but I’m something of a carpenter, and I know how to build a good, tight craft. Would your husband be interested in the help?”
She lowered her voice and planted her hands on ample hips. “My husband’s a handsome devil but drunk most of the time. I doubt he’d even notice you.”
Noah nodded and felt bad for her. She was a handsome woman who obviously deserved better than she’d gotten. “It’s settled then. I’ll go get my gear.”
A week later the three of them boarded one of the finest-looking crafts in the camp. Mary-Margaret had helped him whipsaw the lumber but had not been able to help him much with finding Elizabeth, except to say that she’d met her once and that Elizabeth had appeared to be just fine at the time. So with little choice and like the hundreds of others, Noah had dug a hole in the ground and set up scaffolding. After constructing the craft, they waterproofed it with tar. Within a week, they had a good, watertight raft, wide and flat with plenty of room to lash down their supplies and a shade screen, like a small lean-to, providing shelter from the elements. From now until Dawson City, the journey would be by water.
They left the dark-blue waters of Lake Bennett and headed out on the Yukon River, which wound 2,300 miles from British Columbia to the Bering Sea and the north Pacific Ocean, with numerous lakes, streams, and tributaries branching from it. The journey would take more than a month, requiring them to traverse several rapids to reach Dawson. Noah took in the sight of the hundreds of boats and smiled, his emotions rising with hope. It was like being part of an expedition, a fleet even. So many men, so much excitement, you could feel it in the air. A small, bowl-like boat passed them and three men from inside waved. Noah grinned. They looked like the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker from his mother’s nursery rhymes. The air was crisp, but the sun was shining and the sky was blue. It felt good to be alive today.
“Look up ahead!” Mary-Margaret shouted some time later with glee in her eyes and a big grin on her face.
Noah followed her pointed finger and his eyes widened. Not a half mile away was Miles Canyon. Canyon walls shot straight up in the air, blocking out the light. A rush of white, foamy water squeezed through the narrow opening.
“Hold on!” Noah warned as he shook Pierre awake.
Mary-Margaret yelled in excitement as the boat sped into the dark canyon amidst the frothing water. They were swept along like dead leaves over roots and outcroppings and hidden clusters of rocks of all sizes waiting to topple them. Suddenly, they broke out of the canyon into the bright daylight and the rocky Squaw Rapids.
Noah had heard of the rapids they would traverse on this trail, but for some reason he hadn’t visualized just what they were. The reality was a jolt. Pierre was clinging fearfully to the side of the boat, staring in stultified shock as the world whirled by them. Mary-Margaret, on the other hand, was worrying Noah more by her excitement. At a sudden dip, they were all drenched with frigid water. He heard a crash to the right and looked just in time to see the three men in the bowl wreck into a jagged wall. The craft split like a melon and the last thing he saw before they were swept on was the man he’d called the baker, clutching a piece of driftwood. Everywhere were pieces of wood and disintegrating bundles of supplies whirling in the water around them.
Just when they thought they were safe and nearing the end, they were shot forward into the Whitehorse Rapids. Pierre was crouched low in the bottom of the boat, his dark hair drenched, darker eyes terror-filled, but Mary-Margaret was glowing. Noah didn’t know if he admired her or thought her crazy. He was in the back, operating the rudder and trying to navigate the craft with what little control he could muster. He would not fully breathe until this rushing ride was over. He was jolted out of his thoughts by a sudden swing to the right. They collided with another raft, which promptly tore off two of their logs. Noah looked toward Mary-Margaret to find her … gone! Searching the water, he saw her bobbing like a cork in the foaming mass. Diving for the rope, he fashioned a quick lasso and threw it at the next rocky outcropping they passed.
“Pierre, for God’s sake, get up! Your wife was thrown over,” he yelled at the cowering man. “Hold the rope! Try to keep us steady until I can reach her.”
Pierre finally snapped into action. His pale face strained with the effort to hold the raft against the current, curled mustache wet and drooping, while Noah threw another rope to Mary-Margaret. He soon realized she wasn’t going to be able to grasp hold. She was doing all she could just to keep her head above water. As she came closer, Noah dove into the water. Fighting the current with his powerful arms and legs, he fought his way to the woman. She was sinking, her body limp and languid by the time he reached her. Grasping her around the waist, he searched for their boat. It had disappeared among the swirling mass of the wreckage around him.
An unfamiliar voice called out to him. Someone in another raft had thrown out a rope. Noah struggled toward it, reached it, and hung on for dear life. They were dragged along behind the raft for several minutes while their rescuers struggled to reel them in. Finally, just when Noah thought he had swallowed too much water to go on, someone lifted Mary-Margaret from his arms. He was heaved on board where he lay on his side, choking up water for several minutes while someone beat him on the back. He sat up to find Mary-Margaret’s body stretched out beside him, eyes staring blankly into the sky. Her face was pale with a water-logged look to it. “Sorry, fella, but she didn’t make it.” The voice sounded a million miles away, and Noah had to shake his head to see if his ears were clogged.
Scooting up to her, he laid his head on her chest. There was nothing, no heartbeat, no breath. He put his hands together and pressed on her chest. Water spilled from her mouth. Her lungs were full. He pushed again and again, until there was no longer any water coming out. Leaning down, he said, “Come on, Mary-Margaret, breathe, breathe.” He tried again and again until finally someone reached for his arm and pulled him back.
“You did all you could,” someone said.
Noah turned away, feeling sick. “Close her eyes,” he said harshly. He rubbed his hands over his face. Anger overtook him. Women didn’t belong in a place like this. Nobody did. What were they all doing out here risking their fool necks for the promise of a little gold? It was crazy … deadly. If a woman with strength and endurance like Mary-Margaret could be taken down so suddenly, so swiftly, how was his little Elizabeth going to make it? For the first time, he let himself think it. She might already be dead. He should have found her by now, should have caught up to her. The thought of her buried in some shallow, unmarked grave took hold of his mind until he thought it true. His shoulders started shaking with pent-up sobs.
Someone patted him on the shoulder. “I’m real sorry, fella. Was she your wife?”
Noah gazed up at the man with bleary eyes. “No, but she could have been. She could have been.”
* * *
January 1, 1894
Dear Mrs. Rhodes,
Your continued payment for my services is the only indication that you are receiving my letters. I fear you have despaired of finding your daughter and have continued on with your life. It is difficult, I know, to hope unceasing without any real evidence that we will ever find her, but I must encourage you not to give up.
My son Clyde has developed an attachment for a local girl, a good and sweet girl I’m sure … but he is so young. Tillie, my daughter, calls her favorite doll Elizabeth. She is a topic often on our minds and hearts.
I remain your devoted servant.
Sincerely yours,
Jeremiah Hoglesby
Private Detective for Hire
Sixteen
Elizabeth crawled up the banks of Lake Laberge, the bor rowed wet pants clinging to her legs. Her body ached with cold and sore muscles. She was chilled to the bone, soaking wet and hungry. The slicker Charlie had given her before they left had helped a little on top, but the pants were cold against her calves. They’d be
en on the water for two days and a night without stopping. She had never been on such a ride in all her life. They’d taken shifts sleeping, but Elizabeth didn’t know why it mattered. The river took them where it would and there was little they could do about it until they reached the calm, glassy blue waters of Lake Laberge.
It was the first camp they’d made since the boat-building camp, and it felt good to be on land again. Hundreds of men were camped around them along the bank, busy with repairs. They were the same men she’d been traveling with since Dyea, but now their faces were sobered and exhausted. The hardness of the trail was sinking through their veneer of excitement. Still, they had hundreds of miles to go and they all were feeling a keen desire for better, watertight boats. Elizabeth stood and stretched her aching muscles, reaching to the sky.
“Hey, Elizabeth, how are you holding up?” Josh asked with his boyish grin.
Elizabeth turned and grimaced. “I’ve been better.” She smiled. “A fire and some hot food would do me more good than anything.”
“Yeah, me too. Ben and I will get the fire going if you can unpack. Maybe we’ll get lucky and talk Skookum into cooking for us.”
Elizabeth frowned. “I’m not asking him.” After losing Charlie at the Chilkoot pass, he wanting to stay and earn money by packing other people’s goods up and down, the group had undergone a power struggle. “Let’s wait and see what he does.”
The twins agreed and wandered off to look for wood. Elizabeth looked around the camp for Skookum. She saw William Cleary heading in the direction of the camp’s hospital. He always tried to be where his services might be welcomed and needed. She didn’t think he was really here for the gold; he didn’t even own a pan, his pack loaded with food, medicine, and books, a small Bible always handy in one of his deep overcoat pockets. Her gaze skimmed the shoreline. There, off in the distance, stood Skookum talking with someone … He moved slightly to one side and Elizabeth inhaled sharply.
It was Ross.
Ross was here and Skookum was talking to him. She glanced around the clearing frantically. In a panic, she turned and walked fast and hard toward the hospital tent.
It was dim in the tent. There were several rows of cots, mostly full. She found William Cleary and picked her way over to him. He had his eyes closed and was mumbling. Elizabeth looked down at the person he was praying for. The sheet was drawn up over the face.
Elizabeth asked, “Who was he? Did you know him?”
William slowly pulled the sheet down to reveal Mary-Margaret’s face.
Elizabeth gasped. “Oh, no … what happened?”
The preacher just shook his head. “A man brought her in. He said he tried to save her but she drowned in the rapids, fell overboard.”
“How terrible! Did you speak to her husband? A dark Frenchman?”
William shook his head. “A big fellow brought her in. He was looking for the husband. Did you know her?”
She stared down at the white face, her stomach rolling. She shook her head. “I met her … once. She was kind to me.” Looking up into the preacher’s face Elizabeth said in a helpless and small voice, “She seemed so strong.”
Mr. Cleary put an arm around her shoulder as they stood staring at the dead woman’s face. She started to reach out to touch her and then pulled her hand back. Mary-Margaret had been so full of life, so determined. It was hard to believe anything like this had happened to her. The reality of their circumstances was sobering.
William squeezed Elizabeth’s arm reassuringly. “Come, there is nothing more we can do here.”
Elizabeth studied William Cleary out of the corner of her eyes as they walked. Her gut told her that here was a man who could be trusted, and she’d seen nothing to cause her to think otherwise since meeting him. She would have to risk it. The twins would just make a mess of it. She lowered her voice. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
His focus shifted to her face and sharpened. “All right,” he said softly, “let’s take a walk.”
Elizabeth steered them away from the shore where she had seen Ross. Talking over the din of hammering and sawing, she explained. “I saw Skookum just a few minutes ago and he was talking to someone … someone I know.” She looked at the ground. “This man … I have reason to believe he isn’t here for the gold. He’s come for me.” She looked pleadingly into Mr. Cleary’s eyes, hoping a man of God didn’t have some special sense to know she was telling only part of the truth. “I can’t stay here.” She rushed on in anxious agitation. “I have to go on to Dawson alone. But I need your help.”
“Elizabeth, have you done something that you need to ask forgiveness for?”
Her shoulders slumped. She needed some practical help, not a sermon. “Many things, I’m afraid. And I will, when this is all over.” She gave him a sad smile. “I’m afraid it’s too early to ask for forgiveness.”
“It’s never too early, Elizabeth. On your best day, that most perfect day when you think you’ve done everything right, it will be no better to Him than this day.”
Some part of her heard him, latched onto the hope he held out to her that God would love her no matter what she did, but another part was scrambling to save herself, making her grind her teeth. “First I must leave this place. Will you help me?”
He laid a hand on her shoulder, looking at her with assurance. “What can I do?”
“As soon as you can, gather my supplies together and take them to … behind the hospital tent. Stash them under a blanket there, and as soon as it’s dusk, I’ll retrieve them.”
William Cleary was frowning. “I can do that, but Elizabeth, you shouldn’t go alone.” He was silent for a moment. “That fellow, the one who brought in Mary-Margaret, he said he would be leaving after he found his supplies and purchased a boat. He seemed in a hurry too. I think he would take you along if you take our raft. He was a good man. I’d trust him with you.” He looked at Elizabeth sternly. “Don’t try to pass yourself off as a boy, though. It wouldn’t take him long to figure it out, and he strikes me as the type who values honesty.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “All right, but what about you and the others? Skookum will be furious if you give me the raft. How will you go on without it?”
“Don’t concern yourself with us. We’ll find our way. I have extra funds, and many are turning back at every camp. There are always boats to be bought.” He gazed around. “Anyway, I feel needed in this place.” He shrugged. “It’s a mystery how God’s work unfolds for each of us, Elizabeth.”
* * *
A FEW HOURS later, Elizabeth met William Cleary behind the hospital tent. He handed her a handkerchief full of warm flapjacks. “I have the raft packed with your supplies. I haven’t had any trouble thus far. The twins are somewhere playing a game of cards, and I haven’t seen Skookum all afternoon. He may be fishing.”
“What about the man you told me about? Has he agreed to take me?”
William nodded, pointing toward the lake. “He is waiting with the raft beyond that stand of trees. I will take you to him.”
The raft was nestled among tall grasses, shielded from obvious view. She really didn’t want to get on another boat. Just one night’s sleep on solid ground would have been nice, but she had no choice. A dark shadow was hunting her, and she didn’t know if its name was Ross or fear, but she would stay ahead of it for as long as she was able. Elizabeth strained her neck toward the water, across the grasses. A man was leaning down, roping something … his movements sure, causing a flicker of recognition in her. He stood and turned just as she reached the edge of the bank.
Noah … he had come for her.
Tears instantly sprang up in her eyes. Emotions rose so high that she felt she might choke on them. The world started to tilt, making her dizzy, then blackness began on the edges of her vision until it completely closed in. She forgot to put her head down between her knees in her shock. She forgot everything except that he’d come and what that must mean. She sank to the ground in a crumpled heap.
* * *
NOAH HAD HEARD a startled sound and witnessed the collapse. He scrambled up the shore. “What happened to him?”
William Cleary grimaced, looking up at Noah from his crouched position next to Elizabeth. “I didn’t want to have to be the one to tell you this, Mr. Wesley, but he is a she. And I believe she’s fainted.”
Noah crouched down and looked into the woman’s face. His hand reached out involuntarily as his heart started its heavy drumming. He wiped the smudged dirt from her face and whispered, emotion clogging his throat, “Elizabeth. No wonder I couldn’t find you.”
“You know her?” William asked, alarmed.
Noah hung his head for a moment and then looked up at the preacher. “Yes, I know her. I’ve come for her. She’s going to be my wife.”
“Your wife? Do you know about the trouble she’s in?”
Noah’s eyes narrowed. “I know a man named Ross is looking for her. I don’t know why, but I aim to find out. What do you know about it?”
William Cleary stood, patted Noah on the shoulder. “Only that she needs someone like you. She’ll come to soon enough, and if she is fighting you, it might be providential that she’s fainted. Let’s get her to the raft, quickly.”
Noah picked up Elizabeth and carried her to the raft, laying her on a blanket under the raft’s shaded side. Turning, he said, “This is a good raft. It’s yours, isn’t it?”
“It was hers as well. She was a valuable member of our group.” He smiled. “She’s the one that insisted we build the lean-to on the raft for cover. It was one of many things she brought to us.”