“They have no way of knowing I’m safe,” she whispered. “They probably have given me up for dead.” It sorrowed her to imagine them weeping over her when she was safe and sound. It sorrowed her even more to imagine they’d not made it through the storm. If she’d been thrown overboard, there was a good chance they had been lost, as well.
Dread washed over her in waves and continued with each new revelation. Mr. Davenport had said that Nellie was leaving. That would mean she’d be alone with a man. A man she scarcely knew. It certainly wasn’t appropriate, yet there seemed to be no choice in the matter.
Thinking of Teddy Davenport only complicated things. His nervousness around her amused Miranda, while at the same time his lack of interest in sharing conversation or even a meal left her lonely and frustrated. He was unlike any man she’d ever known. He seemed to care whether she recovered, but he wanted very little to do with her otherwise.
Miranda supposed that should comfort her mind about the upcoming departure of Nellie. But it didn’t. Instead, it only added to her worry. What if the man was only acting this way because Nellie was around? True, she was an Indian and most whites held little respect for the natives, but it was very possible it was her presence in the house, sleeping on the pallet at the foot of Miranda’s bed, that kept Mr. Davenport silent and subdued.
Picking at the worn wool skirt she wore, Miranda could only pray for comfort. “God, please give me hope. Please watch over me and strengthen me so I can go to Dawson and find my family and friends. And please, God, please let them all be safe and well.” She thought again of the man who’d offered her a place in his cabin. “Thank you, Lord, for Mr. Davenport’s kindness. Please, please, let his heart be fixed on you. Don’t let him hurt me.” But even as she prayed, Miranda felt the words were almost ridiculous. Teddy Davenport had proved to be no threat to her well-being. Perhaps she was borrowing trouble by even concerning herself with the matter.
With little else that she could do, Miranda curled up on her bed and dozed in the warmth of the heavy quilts. Her dreams were interrupted, however, when Teddy came bursting through the door.
“You’ll never believe what I just found!” He panted and his breath came out in little white clouds that faded in the warmth of the room. He stomped his snowy boots and held up a small branch of dried, dead leaves.
“It’s a Salix hookeriana. They’re supposed to be limited to the Alaskan Territory.”
“I beg your pardon?” Miranda questioned and got to her feet. She’d never seen Mr. Davenport more animated. “A Salix what?”
“Hookeriana,” he declared. “A Hooker willow. William Jackson Hooker discovered them and wrote about this species as being isolated to Alaskan plant life—but here it is in the Yukon. He was wrong! This will certainly validate my work.”
Miranda sunk back to the bed. She looked to the man and tried to gather some excitement for his find, but her heart was still racing from the shock.
“I suppose I am very happy for you, Mr. Davenport,” she finally offered.
“And well you should be. This is most sensational.”
Teddy appeared mindless of the snow from his boots melting into puddles on the floor. He crossed the room, took down a book, and without even bothering to shed his coat, went to the stove where he kept his ink ready for use.
“I might never have found it but for your arrival and our late departure. A rare specimen, indeed,” he declared, then turned his full attention to the branch.
“Glad I could be of help,” Miranda muttered and shook her head. The man was truly a rare specimen himself.
—[CHAPTER THREE]—
“WELL, I’LL BE!” declared Adrik Ivankov. He slapped his right thigh and let out a loud and hearty laugh. “If it ain’t Gumption Lindquist.”
An old man with a full head of snowy white hair looked up from his plate of food. His thick and equally white mustache twitched in amusement. “Ja, dat be me.”
“I figured you for grizzly food by now,” Adrik said, pulling Karen along with him. “Gump, I want you to meet my wife. You always said I’d never get married unless I found a woman uglier than me. I just wanted to show you how wrong you were. I got the cream of the crop.”
“Ja, dat you did,” the Swede said, putting aside his plate. He got to his feet and without warning, pulled Karen into a welcoming embrace. “She looks like good stock. You done well for yourself, boy.”
“Karen, this old reprobate is Gumption Lindquist. Gump to his friends.”
Gump released Karen and nodded. “Ja, you call me Gump.”
Karen smiled at the old man. He looked much like many of the other miners, well-worn and weathered, yet he had a contentment about him that others seemed to lack. “Gumption is such a unique name for someone to call their child.”
Gump’s smile broadened, revealing a full set of perfectly matched teeth. “My folks, they had six boys before I come along. Not a one of them was amountin’ to much, so my father, he say, ‘Let’s call this one Gumption. I’ve always wanted one of the boys to have some, might as well give it to this one in a name.’ ”
Adrik reached out and reclaimed his wife. “Too bad they missed again with you.”
Gump laughed and picked his plate back up. “Ja, they didn’t think much of me leavin’ the farm to come north when I was a boy.”
“So were you living in America?” Karen asked.
“Ja, I was born in Sweden but grew up in Kansas. We had a farm.”
“Gump came north way back when he was just seventeen,” Adrik told her. “Of course, I wasn’t born yet, but my father was. He and Gump were good friends. They used to fish together.”
“Ja, dat’s right.” The old man shoveled a huge hunk of moose tongue into his mouth and smiled as if he’d died and gone to heaven.
Karen looked to her husband. “I wish Grace would have felt like coming tonight. This looks like quite the celebration.”
“It’s a good one, by golly,” Gump replied. “I remember last year. I had Christmas dinner with some of the fellas who were working claims near to mine. We had quite the time, not near so good as this, but nearly.”
Karen heard the makeshift band strike up a Christmas carol. It echoed across the main room of the log house. Donated by one of the local families, the cabin was about twenty-by-twenty and was decorated from top to bottom with whatever could be found. Greenery, guns, and even a Union Jack flag had been nailed to the wall to lend itself to the occasion.
“So, Gump, did you strike it rich?”
“Nah, I find a bit now and then. Usually enough to keep me interested,” the man said in between bites of food. “ ’Course, with the cold you have to wait. I light a few fires and dig up some ground. Come spring I’ll go through it, all righty.”
“Do you know anyone who’s selling out for a cheap price? Even a fractional claim?” Adrik asked.
“Nah. Most folks are hunkered down for the vinter.”
Karen liked the man’s singsong cadence of speech. His intonations went up and down like a child’s seesaw.
“I was afraid of that,” Adrik said, frowning. “I’d heard someone mention the government was changing the rules on claims. Guess we’ll have to check into it. We’ve not had much luck in securing a claim or a house. We’re living in a tent across the river, about a mile or so from town. There’s five of us, soon to be six. My wife’s friend is expecting a baby soon.”
“It’s not a good time to be havin’ a baby.”
Karen tried not to let the old man’s tone frighten her. She knew well enough the odds were against them. The bitter cold and lack of money did nothing to reassure her that things would be all right.
“Vait a minute,” Gump said suddenly. “I know a man who says he vants to hire folks to help him. Maybe he vould hire you on and give you a place to live.”
“Does he have a cabin?” Adrik questioned.
“Ja, a good big one, with two, maybe three rooms. He had him some friends vorkin’ with him, but the
y go home before vinter. He been out there all by himself, and I know he could use the help.”
“Well, I’d like to talk to him,” Adrik said, looking to Karen. “We’d be happy to work for the man. Karen is a good cook and fine housekeeper.”
“Not that he’d know,” Karen threw in. “We haven’t lived in a house since we married.”
Gump laughed. “By golly, we go ask him tomorrow. He didn’t come tonight or we could ask him now.”
“That’s all right. It’ll wait until tomorrow,” Adrik answered.
For the first time in a long while, Karen heard hope in her husband’s voice. She knew he worried incessantly about his little band of travelers. He and Jacob had taken odd jobs from time to time—sometimes splitting wood or helping with construction. But more often than not, there was nothing to do—not that would earn them any money.
Karen thought at least a dozen times to tell Adrik about the new job she’d taken. He wouldn’t be happy, however, and because of this she delayed. She didn’t want to upset him. Now that he had prospects of a place to live and a real job, Karen figured she’d just wait until they knew something for sure. For the time, she’d just enjoy the holidays and the party that the people of Dawson had put together.
The celebration was a kind of combination for Christmas and Boxing Day. The party lasted well into the night and by the time they’d stuffed themselves with moose and mince pies, plum pudding, and cakes, it was nearly one o’clock in the morning.
Jacob had taken Leah back to the tent hours earlier, and now as Karen and Adrik made their way from the happy celebration, Karen couldn’t help but feel a sense of desire to keep her husband to herself for just a little longer.
“I wish we didn’t have to go back—just yet. I kind of like being alone with you.”
Adrik looked at her and grinned. “Why, Mrs. Ivankov, behave yourself.”
Overhead the northern lights danced and crackled. No matter how many times she saw it, Karen could never get used to the wonder of this cosmic show. Red and green ribbons of light danced on the cold night air. The colors changed, and white, almost as bright as sunlight for just a moment, burst through and streaked the skies. This was followed by blue and then green.
“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful!” Karen declared.
Adrik pulled her into his arms. “Nor have I.”
She looked up and found his gazed fixed on her. “I meant the skies. The aurora.”
“I didn’t.” His voice was low and husky. Karen hardly noticed the sub-zero temperatures around them.
“I love you, Adrik.” She thought for a moment of telling him about her job but knew it would ruin the moment. “Please never forget how very much I love you.”
He lowered his lips to hers for the briefest kiss, then pulled away. “We’d best get home or we just might freeze this way.”
Karen giggled. “Can’t you see the story in the Klondike Nugget? Husband and wife found frozen together.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time, sadly enough. When I think of all the folks who’ve been lost on the trail north … Well, it’s enough to discourage a man.” Adrik held her close and moved them toward home. “I’ll be gone several days as I travel to speak with the man about the cabin,” he said, changing the subject. “Maybe even weeks. Gump can put me up. Will you be all right?”
“I’m sure we will. We’re not that far from help if we need it. Plus, we have those two other families living nearby. If I need anything I can always call on them.”
“I know, but I just want reassurance. I figure to take Jacob with me. He wants to ask about his pa around the claims.”
“He just isn’t ready to let go of the hope that Bill is still alive.” Karen felt sorry for the boy. Leah had handled her father’s death better than her older brother. Jacob seemed driven to confirm his father’s existence or death, while Leah was content to relegate it to the past.
“I wish we could be certain of what happened to Bill, but so many people have lost loved ones. The lists held by the Mounties go on and on. Folks get lost on the trail, freeze under an avalanche, or drown in the rapids.”
“Or during a lake storm, like Miranda.”
“Exactly. This territory is unforgiving—and is not in the leastwise interested in whether it hurts your feelings. It’s more likely to claim a life than to spare it. My guess is that both Bill and Miranda have been sharing the Lord’s table in heaven.”
They were nearing the tent and Karen couldn’t help but pause. “Adrik, I know God has blessed us and will show us where to go—where to settle. My biggest concern right now is for Grace. It’s not going to be easy to have a baby out here—in the dead of winter.”
“I thought she arranged to have the baby at the hospital in town.”
“She would have, but the priest told her it would cost a thousand dollars.”
“That’s robbery. I thought they were doing God’s work.”
Karen smiled. “Well, apparently God’s work costs more up on the Klondike.”
“Everything costs more here. I just hope Grace can nurse that baby without any trouble. What little fresh cow’s milk can be had is sixteen dollars a gallon, and canned milk is running out fast.”
“I’m sure we’ll get by,” Karen told him, looping her arm through his. But in truth, she worried about such things as well. Perhaps if she told him about the job, he’d relax and accept that God had provided them a way to at least have money to buy the essentials they needed.
“Come on, let’s get inside. The temperature’s already dropped considerably. Gump says it’s going way down— maybe even as low as sixty below.”
Karen shivered just at the prospect of such an unreasonable temperature. “I doubt I’ll ever be warm again.”
Adrik laughed. “I’ll keep you warm. Once we get snuggled into my sleeping bag, there won’t be room for the cold to bother us.”
“Won’t be room for you to breathe either.”
“Then I’ll hold my breath. Being that close to you leaves me breathless anyway.”
Sometimes when Miranda first woke up, she could almost believe that she was safely back at home in San Francisco. At those times, like now, she would purposefully keep her eyes closed tight and imagine that when she opened them she’d see the white fluttering curtains that graced her bedroom window at home. She could almost smell her mother’s cooking. Oatmeal and sausages. Coffee and tea.
She liked to pretend what she would do that day. Thoughts of long strolls in the park or shopping for fresh fish at the wharf seemed most appealing. Funny how she had taken all that for granted.
“Oh, bother!” Teddy declared from across the room.
Miranda realized the poor man was struggling to fix his own breakfast again. Smiling, she eased out from the bed, fully dressed albeit wrinkled. She used her fingers to get the better part of the tangles out of her hair. Mr. Davenport had seemed completely oblivious to her needs. A blizzard had kept them locked inside the cabin after Nellie had gone back to her village. There had been no sign of Little Charley and the dog sleds, but in this weather, Miranda hadn’t really expected them.
She quickly plaited her hair and tied it with a worn piece of rawhide. “Can I help?” she asked, coming to kitchen area.
“I would be very grateful if you would take this matter over,” Teddy replied as he gestured toward a pan full of oatmeal, which was running over onto the tiny stovetop.
Miranda wanted to laugh, but the situation was such that she didn’t. She merely took the task in hand. “How much oatmeal did you put into the pan?”
“I don’t know. I filled it halfway and then stirred water in until it was filled.”
Miranda kept her head down so that he couldn’t see her smile. “That’s way too much oatmeal. You only need a cup or so to make enough for both of us.”
“I can see that now. At least the coffee is passable. Strong, but passable.”
“Good. Now why don’t you set the table, and I’ll have
this mess under control in just a minute.”
Teddy nodded and went quietly to the task of pulling down bowls from the cupboard. It was in moments like this that Miranda liked Mr. Davenport very much. But other times she didn’t know what to make of him. He seemed so closed off—so antisocial. He constantly buried his nose in his books and writings, and whenever Miranda tried to talk to him, he only grunted and murmured unintelligible answers.
This, added to the fact that he had no apparent understanding of time, left Miranda frustrated with the man. She’d asked him several times when they might find their way to Dawson. He’d only shrugged and suggested they were at the mercy of the weather and the natives. Without the sled dogs and help of his friends they were stranded, because Teddy had no way to pack his supplies and books back to Dawson.
Miranda cleared away the excess oatmeal, salvaging what she could for their meal. She turned to bring the pan to the table when she smelled the unmistakable odor of something burning.
She stopped and sniffed the air. Turning, she looked once again to the stove to make certain she’d not missed some of the oatmeal in her cleanup and was surprised to see the smoke wasn’t coming from atop the stove, but rather the oven door showed the telltale sign of black wisps.
“Mr. Davenport,” Miranda questioned, turning back to Teddy. “Have you something in the oven?”
“Oh, dear,” he muttered, dashing across the room and sending Miranda sprawling backward onto the floor. Oatmeal flew from the pan and landed everywhere, including on Miranda’s only skirt and blouse.
Teddy, meanwhile, reached into the oven, showing at least the presence of mind to use a potholder, and pulled out a pan of charred remains that Miranda supposed to be biscuits.
Thinking it all rather amusing in spite of, or perhaps because of, the oatmeal that oozed down her cheek and blouse, Miranda began to giggle—quietly at first, and then louder. Teddy caught sight of her and shook his head.
“This isn’t funny. Just look at this mess. Look at yourself.”
“I am.” Miranda wiped away the tears that had trickled down her cheeks. “That’s why I’m laughing.”
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