Snow Angel

by Jamie Carie

  “Let me pay you for it.” Noah reached into a pouch under his coat.

  William Cleary shook his head. “I have money if we should need to buy a boat. I think I’ll have the twins build another one and use the time to stall this Ross fellow. I believe God wants us to be here for a few days.”

  Noah didn’t question his words; he only nodded and shook hands with the man, feeling like he’d found a friend who understood. Taking a wood pole in his hand, he pushed off the bank while the preacher shoved. The raft floated out onto the glossy lake. Noah busied himself getting them quickly downstream. He couldn’t seem to look at her again. It did something to him that he couldn’t quite identify, so he concentrated on the raft and poling down the river into the long stretch called Thirty-Mile.

  A bald eagle screeched from its perch atop a tree and spread its wings, one second cleaving and the next soaring, leaving in its wake a swaying branch and falling leaves from the force of its impetus. Noah watched the great bird until it was just a black spot in the sky as it gained the height of mountaintops. Here was magnificence, he thought, breathing in the awe of the grace, the majesty. “How great you are,” he whispered to the Creator.

  Even though it was evening, the pale sunlight hung on. It was the time of year for light, the time for staying up and soaking the sun’s rays deep into the skin, into one’s bones in preparation for the inevitable long winter to come. In Alaska this was a magical time, when the sun rose and stayed just above the horizon, making an arc around them in the sky. It was a time for renewal, and they all—plants and animals and man—lingered with the light, not wanting to waste it on sleep, not able to completely forget the cold darkness to come. Noah would hunt and walk his property well past midnight this time of year when the land would see only a couple of hours of darkness in the wee hours of the night. But not this year; this year he had another mission. He glanced back at her still asleep and wondered if he should wake her. But something told him not to, he needed to wait. And wait some more.

  With a gentle, warming breeze and the soft current all around them, it was a leisurely ride. The only hindrance was the occasional boulder in the water or mound of earth to navigate around. Noah gazed at a part of the landscape he had never seen before, the beauty and immensity never ceasing to astound him. The calm water was soothing to his turbulent emotions.

  He’d found her! A part of him rejoiced, and yet another part made him ask what had possessed him to chase a wisp of a woman into this land. He knew the answer, but he didn’t know if it was the right one. All he knew was that when he quieted himself, all he could hear was the rejoicing of his heart. I found her … found her … found her.

  “Noah, is it really you?”

  The question was as soft as a whisper, but it hit him in the stomach like a swift kick. He turned from his vigil and stared at her. She was sitting half-up, rubbing her eyes with a small, pale hand. Her hat had fallen off to reveal her thick mass of wavy hair—the same hair that when she wore it down and loose made his stomach do a slow turn. Rising, she stood and moved toward him. She looked good—so good and sweet. It was all he could do not to reach for her.

  “Where’s your coat?” he asked.

  Elizabeth looked around her. “I’m not cold,” she answered softly. “Noah, I can’t believe it’s you. Why are you here?”

  She didn’t sound particularly glad to see him. Maybe she had been glad to be rid of him. “Seems I just keep turning up when you need me most.” It came out sarcastically and when she smiled at the truth of it, he growled inwardly.

  “That’s true. No one has ever saved me like you have.”

  Her eyes were all softness, and he felt a tightening in his chest.

  “I can’t believe you came all this way. Did Cara put you up to it? How is she?”

  She moved alongside him and grasped his upper arm, smiling happily into his eyes. He felt a heady rush of excitement.

  “No, I came on my own, but she was worried about you. She and Will both. She had her baby the day after you left. A girl.”

  Elizabeth beamed. “Oh, Will must be so proud. Is Cara well? Did she have any trouble?” She shook her head, still clinging to his arm in a way that made him want to wrap himself around her. “Oh, you probably wouldn’t know all those details.”

  “As a matter of fact,” he said, gritting, “I delivered the baby.”

  Her eyes grew round. “What?”

  Noah shrugged. “Will was gone, looking for you. We couldn’t find a doctor in time. I’d just arrived to … see you and found the post locked up. After breaking down the door, I found Cara trying to deliver the little package all on her own. There wasn’t time to do anything but help.”

  Her shoulders slumped as she looked into the water. “It’s my fault. Will would have been there if I hadn’t left.”

  Noah laughed. “It was a good thing Will wasn’t there. If I remember right, he wasn’t her favorite person at the time.” When Elizabeth looked confused, he changed the subject. “Elizabeth, why did you leave so suddenly?”

  She turned her head away. “I … I had a chance to join Charlie McKay’s party and I took it. You know all I ever really wanted was to come here … to be a part of this.”

  “Yes, but I thought we had an agreement. I thought you were going to prospect my land with me.” He thought of Mary-Margaret and said his next thoughts out loud. “This isn’t any place for a woman.”

  She turned on him. He should have expected it by now, but it came like a surprise attack. “I’ve just as much right to be here as anyone. I deserve a chance.” Then she spoke fiercer, to match the fire in her eyes, “I deserve a chance.” She looked down, shaking, then back up at him. “Why don’t you just admit it—you don’t want to be here. I didn’t ask you to come for me, Noah.”

  Her gaze locked onto his. What he read in her eyes he could no longer endure. All the pent-up fears and frustrations of the past month exploded inside him. Reaching out, he pulled her to him and lowered his head. With an urgency born of desperation to reach her, to show her, he kissed her like he’d dreamed of kissing her for so long. Noah forgot the river, the raft, the night sun twinkling at them, the mountains, the land … his land even … he forgot everything except the woman in his arms. He drowned himself in the taste and feel and touch of her. It was like coming home—to an explosion.

  When he finally lifted his head and looked into her eyes, she flushed and sighed softly, “Oh.”

  Noah’s voice was firm. “I’ll take you to Dawson City. But after you’ve had your fill of this blasted gold mining notion, I’m taking you home—as my wife.”

  She looked blankly at him for a moment, myriad emotions playing over her features. Finally, her face grew hard. “No,” she said simply.

  Noah was stunned. “No? Just … no?”

  “I can’t marry you, Noah.”

  He took hold of her shoulders, gripping them firmly so that she had to look up at him. “Why? Tell me why not.” Softer, pleading, he demanded, “Tell me you don’t love me.” His throat tightened as he watched her struggle with the question.

  She looked away. “I’m … Noah, I’m already married.” She looked back into his eyes, her face hardened now. “That man, Ross Brandon, the one looking for me. He’s my husband. I … I lied about my name being Smith. It’s been many things, but never Smith.”

  The air whooshed out of him as though he’d been punched. His stomach rolled, the crumbling of his heart overshadowing it all. Noah wished he had been punched. God help him, he was in love with a married woman.

  * * *

  ELIZABETH FELT SICK. She watched his face turn ashen before he dropped his hold on her and turned away. Turning away herself, she fought back tears. It was better this way. He had a right to someone better. She wouldn’t let him be destroyed.

  “Why?” he croaked out. “Why didn’t you tell me? And why aren’t you with him?”

  Her emotions switched off and the lies came easy. “I’ve been running away fro
m him. He beat me … and more. I didn’t think he would follow me here,” her voice dropped, “but he has.”

  Noah turned around. “Elizabeth, why didn’t you tell me all this?”

  “Why? What can you do? You can’t save me this time, Noah Wesley. If he comes for me—and he will, I know that now—there’s nothing you can do about it.” She turned her back on him, burning her safety net and knowing it, but there was no other way. It was the only decent thing she had ever done in her life. She would save Noah from herself if it killed her. And it very well might.

  The silence was stifling on the little raft as the night hastened on. Elizabeth didn’t know if she could endure it any longer. She shivered and hugged herself and adjusted her sitting position. It was a tranquil stretch of the journey. Silt from the Teslin River slipped into the water, giving it a low, hissing sound that droned in the background. They sat in stillness, bathed in the long twilight, filled and straining with longing toward one another. It lent an eerie feel to the journey, as though the torturous silence would go on forever and the combined aching of their hearts would never stop.

  “It’s getting cool. Why don’t you put on your coat?”

  His voice was so deep, struck such a chord within her, that she closed her eyes and inhaled, soaking it in. Finally, she managed, “It’s not among my things. I must have left it behind.”

  She heard him stir and then felt a blanket being wrapped around her shoulders. She turned her head slowly to look at him and felt such sadness, saw only sadness in his eyes. On a breath she said. “If you would get angry and shout at me, it would make this easier.”

  “I am angry. You should have told me, then maybe I wouldn’t have …”

  “Wouldn’t have what?”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It probably wouldn’t have made any difference.” He motioned toward the lean-to. “Why don’t you get some sleep. We’re on calm water now, but there are bound to be more rapids. I’ll wake you then.”

  Elizabeth shook her head and looked into his tired eyes, seeing his wretchedness. “I couldn’t sleep. Why don’t you rest, and I’ll keep watch.”

  Noah ran a hand through his hair. “You sure?”

  She nodded.

  After he lay down she said softly, “Noah?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I guess you’ll head back home at the first camp we get to?”

  He lifted his head and rested it against his palm. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “I’ll see you to Dawson City first. I don’t want you going alone.”

  She tried to express her gratefulness. She tried to make herself turn around and tell him the truth—all of it. Instead, she just stared out at the dark water and forced the tears to remain behind the knot in her throat.

  * * *

  July 20, 1895

  Dear Mrs. Rhodes,

  I regret that I have little news on our search. Nothing has opened in the case to lead me to believe that Elizabeth is in New York, Illinois, or the vicinity. I have had many cases over the years and all have been resolved but this one. Sometimes I, too, despair over it, but something about your description of her in that first letter, when she was such a young child and still with you, it haunts me. I cannot give up.

  This morning, in a moment of prayer, I felt the urging to expand my search. Upon finishing this letter, I will broaden the investigation, placing ads in various newspapers across the country, expanding toward the south and further west. I will also continue to try to uncover the name of the adoptive parents. Elizabeth must be approaching eighteen now and has perhaps left her home and journeyed out on her own. Regardless, in this last great effort to serve you, I pledge to leave no stone left unturned.

  I remain your devoted servant.

  Sincerely yours,

  Jeremiah Hoglesby

  Private Detective for Hire

  Seventeen

  Dawson City. Nestled in forested hills, it was the noisi est, muddiest, most crowded place Noah had ever seen. The waterfront was packed with every kind of floatable craft imaginable, most for sale, having reached their destination. The beaches were covered with hundreds of tents, flags of the unlucky, unable to get their hands on a claim.

  He was dumbfounded, shaking his head in wonder at the extremes. Beggars rubbed shoulders with the newly rich and their fancy clothes and weighted pockets. A man in a pristine suit and bowler hat walked among the crowd, hawking The Palace Grand, boasting it was so large it could sleep 2,200 people, its accommodations so lavish you would forget your wretched journey, its pillows so soft you were guaranteed only dreams of gold. Signs lined the sides of buildings, depicting a variety of amusements to waylay the loneliness, giving prospectors reason to spend their gold as fast as they could pan it from the icy streambeds. There were gambling halls and dance halls, such as the Monte Carlo where men could buy a dance for a dollar. On the racier side was an area called Paradise Alley that housed prostitutes in what was called the “Dawson cribs.” Noah would have to be sure to steer Elizabeth away from there before her natural curiosity demanded she take a look.

  Nicknamed “Paris of the North,” Dawson was no ordinary tent town.

  Noah knew lonely men were easily drawn to the base entertainments. Those prone to gamble could wager on dogfights, a badger fight, or prize fighting. The resistant could join a social club or pay dearly for a play or local musical evening sponsored by one of the hotels. Dawson could boast a certain amount of culture, and yet it all had bite to it. Dawson City was a gutsy town, made up of the kind of men and woman who dared a man-eating trail to get to it.

  “Have you ever seen anything like it?” Elizabeth turned toward him, her eyes dancing with excitement. They were standing in a long line at the Canadian Registry Office to register her a claim. Noah felt the familiar pain in his chest when she smiled at him like that. They’d called a forced truce for the rest of the river journey and hadn’t mentioned her circumstances again, but Noah thought of little else. He hoped it would get easier to breathe once he was away from her and back home. And he could have left her by now, should have, but he just couldn’t leave her to that man. He had to be there when Ross came for her—even though he was afraid of what he might do to him when they came face to face.

  After a lengthy wait, they drew up to the window of a tall, thin, balding man with round spectacles who directed his questions to Noah.

  “Name?”

  “Elizabeth Smith,” she answered.

  “And your husband’s name?” the man asked pointedly.

  “He isn’t my husband, and I’d like to file a claim in my name, if you please. It’s Elizabeth Smith.”

  “Very well. I’ll tell you what I’ve told the last fifty people. There are no claims left to be had, miss.”

  Noah watched her face fall.

  “Nothing? Nothing at all?”

  The man looked genuinely sorry for her as he shook his head, his white bushy eyebrows raised almost to his hairline.

  She looked down at her hands for a long moment and then back up at the man. Tears glistened in her eyes as she gazed up at him and said in a choked voice, “But I’ve come so far … I can’t just give up. Please, do you know of anything?”

  The man was obviously distressed and some sixth sense told Noah to keep quiet. He watched Elizabeth blink hard as a single tear raced down her cheek. The man pulled his pristine white collar away from his throat. Elizabeth just stood there, rooted to the ground gazing at him. Finally, he cleared his throat and fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief. Handing it to her, he leaned down and whispered, “There is a claim that was just vacated. I bought it myself and was planning to sell it to a friend of mine. It’s on Bonanza Creek but … I will let you have it for seventy-five dollars.”

  Elizabeth gasped. “Bonanza Creek? Isn’t that where they first struck it rich?”

  “Yes ma’am. One of the first places. Like I said, I was saving it for a friend of mine, and he’ll likely have my neck if he learns I’ve sold
it, but … if you have the cash, you can own it.”

  Elizabeth gave the man such a blindingly joyous smile through her tears that he flushed. She quickly pulled out the bills and counted them into the man’s palm. There were fifty-four dollars and some change in all. Noah wordlessly added the rest. Elizabeth handed over the money, saying, “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

  Noah could only shake his head at her, convinced the man would have done just about anything for a pretty woman in tears. Turning her, he led her away with his hand in the small of her back. Once outside, he turned her around and looked into her sparkling eyes. “Happy?” he asked.

  She smiled up at him with elation in her eyes. “I have a claim! Can you believe it? I’m so happy I could do a jig right here in the street.” Grasping hold of his upper arm she squeezed it and demanded, “Let’s go see it.”

  “It may not be much,” he warned.

  “It will be perfect,” she returned solidly.

  Nothing, not even sound reasoning could daunt her enthusiasm. She was convinced she would strike it rich. He sighed. “All right, let’s go have a look.”

  Number 17 on Bonanza Creek was the standard size of 500 yards and positioned parallel to the stream. It looked as if it had already been dug up, several times in fact, and had the beginnings of a shaft showing in several different places. There were mounds of black earth waiting to be washed and a broken-down lean-to at the top of a rise. Noah thought he could make it into a small one-room cabin if he could find the lumber. People were breaking up their boats for lumber, but Noah didn’t want to do that. What he wouldn’t give to own a lumber mill in this town.

  Elizabeth was busy unpacking. “I know, I know, it doesn’t look like much,” she said over her shoulder, “but we’re really lucky.” She pointed toward the muddy water. “See that sandbar?”