Rivers of Gold

by Tracie Peterson

  “But we don’t mind. I never expected you to give up half your claim,” Adrik said. “You could be out a small fortune by doing this.”

  “Or you could be out a lot of hard vork for nothin’, I’m thinkin’. I vant to do it this vay. Besides, somethin’ could happen to me. Then the claim vould go back to the government. I’d rather give you the gold.” Gump’s singsong cadence was stronger when his emotions ran high. Adrik saw the determination in the set of the old man’s jaw and decided not to challenge his decision.

  Once the matter was settled to Gump’s satisfaction, the foursome returned to the sled and were finally on their way back to the cabin. Adrik couldn’t imagine why the old man had offered up half his claim. Sure, Gump was a bit incapacitated for the time, but there wasn’t a whole lot they would be able to do until the weather warmed up, anyway. Maybe the situation with Gump’s leg was more serious than he was letting on. Maybe the doctor had told Gump he could die. That idea bothered Adrik greatly. He wished fervently that he could make life easier for the old man.

  I’d like to send him back to Kansas a rich, comfortable man, Adrik thought. I’d like to see him retire from working so hard and just enjoy his old age. But of course, that wasn’t likely to happen. Gump’s attitude and spirit was much the same as Adrik’s. They’d probably die working.

  Thinking of work, Adrik began to plan for the claim. There was gold to be had, but it would come only after a great deal of hard work was given in trade. Panning and sluicing, spending hours in the cold water washing the creek gravel—it was enough to drive a man quite insane and crush his dream of riches. Many folks believed the gold to be buried some fifteen feet below the surface. To dig down that far required hours and hours of backbreaking work—all in the hope that they could break through the frozen barriers of muck and rock and find the mother lode.

  After a few feet of muck, there generally was a frozen layer of gravel, and sometimes, if a man had sunk the shaft in the right place, he hit pay dirt just under this. Gump had insisted that they’d strike it rich if only they kept digging, instead of panning. Most miners used a ground fire to thaw the surface, but that was time consuming and not always very effective—the digging went horribly slow. Steam boilers were making the job a lot easier for some miners who could afford the expense. Though Adrik wished they had a steam machine to thaw the ground, he knew they didn’t have the money for anything extra.

  He considered how he might rig up his own steam machine. He had a metal washtub they could use to heat water, but that wouldn’t solve the problem of capturing the steam and focusing it into the ground. Adrik had studied the setup from a drawing at the mercantile. The display showed how a steam boiler could be fixed near the site, with pipes coming out one end for the steam and a chimney of sorts to vent the firebox. The pipes went into the ground where they would pump hot steam and thaw the frozen muck. Adrik wasn’t sure that the time spent would produce a steamer that worked, but he decided to discuss it with Gump when they got back to the claim.

  Adrik’s attention turned to Grace and the baby, snuggled deep in a pile of blankets and furs, along with Gump. The body heat of the two adults would no doubt keep the baby plenty warm, but Adrik had other worries concerning their safety. He’d heard wolves howling along the trail on their way into Dawson, and he wanted no part of having to fight off a pack to keep his friends alive.

  Then there were the two-legged wolves. Men who pretended to be sheep but were really vicious animals who would eat you alive. Trouble had been a natural companion to the gold rush. The Northwest Mounted Police, the pride of the Yukon, had done a wonderful job of controlling things in the area, but there would always be problems so long as there was a profit to be made from stirring up trouble. Adrik could only pray he was doing the right thing. He’d never considered becoming a part of the stampede. In fact, he thought those poor souls who pinned their hopes to gold instead of God to be misguided. The word gold was just one letter more than God, and Adrik had always figured the L to stand for Lies.

  Much of the gold rush had been built on lies told by one man and passed on by another. People lied about what gold they found, and they lied about what they didn’t find. They lied about their pasts and preyed upon others who’d believe their lies for the future. It was a kind of sickness born out of sin.

  But as for me and my house, Adrik thought, remembering the Bible verse, we will serve the Lord. But here he was in the center of the rush, making his own scars upon the land, seeking his own methods to find the gold.

  But I’m doing this for Gump and for the others, he told himself as he urged the dogs to pick up the pace. Selfexamination questioned that declaration, however. Was he really doing this for the others? Or was there some small dream of gold in the back of his own mind?

  —[CHAPTER SEVENTEEN]—

  “BUT YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND,” Miranda moaned. “I saw one of my friends.”

  “It’s all right, Miranda,” Teddy encouraged, “you probably just thought you saw him. I say, you lost a lot of blood. There’s no telling how it played with your mind.”

  “I’m not crazy,” Miranda said, growing angry. “I’m telling you, I saw him. He was standing down at the end of the corridor.”

  “The same corridor where I found you on the floor?”

  Miranda turned away. “Never mind. I don’t expect you to understand. You didn’t understand the first time—the time I saw Crispin.”

  “Was this Crispin the same man you saw here at the hospital?” Teddy asked, gently.

  “No, I …”

  “Well, let’s get this over with,” the doctor said coming into the room. He didn’t even bother to introduce himself, and Miranda thought him very rude.

  Taking hold of her hand, he unwound the cloth and studied the wound for a moment. “Um, yes. I see,” he murmured.

  Miranda felt a wave of nausea as she caught sight of her bloody hand. Leaning back, she found Teddy there to support her. She looked to him, hoping he could somehow give her the courage she lacked.

  “It will be fine. You’ll see,” he whispered.

  “Will it hurt?” she asked.

  “Most likely,” the doctor said without emotion. He began to wash to wound, mindless of the pain.

  “Talk to me, Miranda. Tell me about your friends,” Teddy encouraged. “Don’t think about what the doctor is doing.”

  “That’s easier said than done,” Miranda declared, wincing at the pain. “Must you be so rough?” she asked the doctor indignantly.

  The man looked at her as though stunned by her words. “If I don’t clean it out, miss, you’ll most likely get an infection.”

  “I don’t mind the cleaning, it’s the way you attack the job as though you’re gutting and cleaning a rabbit.”

  The doctor paused and actually smiled at her rebuke. “I do apologize. It’s been a rather hectic day. I shall attempt to limit the pain I cause you.”

  “Thank you,” Miranda replied, turning to Teddy as the doctor took up a needle and thread. “Adrik is the man who let me come on the trip. He and Karen got married in Whitehorse. Karen …” She closed her eyes as the doctor pierced her skin. Tears came unbidden to her eyes.

  “Go on, Miranda, tell me about your friends,” Teddy prodded.

  She opened her eyes and licked her lips. “Karen was the nanny to my sister-in-law, Grace. You remember, Grace is married to my brother … my brother … Peter.” She felt a strange warmth creeping up her neck, flushing her face and making it difficult to focus.

  “I’m here,” Teddy whispered. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll see to it that you’re all right.”

  His words were comforting, and Miranda tried hard to keep them in her mind as she faded in and out of consciousness.

  “There. All done. You are free to leave,” the doctor said, wrapping a bandage around her hand.

  “Thank you,” Miranda murmured, leaning her head against Teddy. She felt so weak.

  “Mrs. Colton, you will need to do as lit
tle as possible with your hand. I have made several stitches,” the balding, heavyset man continued. “You must keep your hand immobile.” He turned to Teddy. “You must see to it that your wife keeps the hand dry, clean, and covered. We don’t want to risk infection.”

  Teddy didn’t bother to correct the doctor regarding their martial status, and Miranda thought it rather odd. Perhaps he was caught up in his concern over her wound. She had no more time to consider it, however, for Teddy was reaching out and helping her to stand.

  “I’ll see to it that the wound is well cared for. When should we return?” Teddy questioned.

  “Two weeks.”

  The doctor turned to go, but Miranda called out, “Wait!”

  The man turned, a brow raising. “What is it?”

  “Did you see a big man at the end of the hallway?” she asked. “It would have been earlier, prior to my arrival. I saw him there and believe him to be a friend of mine.”

  The doctor looked to Teddy, who merely shrugged. “She’s been separated from her friends and family and has been searching Dawson for them.”

  “I saw no one fitting the description. Perhaps the loss of blood gave you hallucinations,” the doctor replied, then left without another word. The brief moment of kindness he’d offered her earlier seemed all but forgotten.

  “I say, not much of a bedside manner.”

  “I know what I saw,” Miranda said, feeling suddenly very weak. “I know it was Adrik.”

  “If it was, then he’ll be around in town somewhere. We’ll find him.”

  “The doctor thinks I’m crazy.”

  “Nonsense, he merely suggested that you might have … well, that is to say …” Teddy looked uncomfortably to her, as if expecting Miranda to rescue him from having to say anything more.

  Miranda leaned heavily on Teddy, realizing she was completely spent by the entire affair. Perhaps Teddy was right. Maybe she had conjured up Adrik from the recesses of her subconscious mind. She longed to find her friends again and the long months of isolation and winter darkness had left her very discouraged. If not for her work with Teddy, she might have lost her mind to be sure.

  “Oh, just take me home, Teddy.”

  Outside in the long corridor, Miranda caught sight of another doctor. Her hope surged anew. Surely it couldn’t hurt to ask him if he knew Adrik, she thought. “Excuse me, Doctor,” she said as Teddy started to walk toward the man.

  The bearded man looked up from the chart he’d been reading. “Yes?”

  “I saw a very large man—down there—earlier. Maybe an hour ago. He was very tall and broad shouldered. He had a beard.”

  “Oh yes.” The man nodded. “I saw him, too. He came in with a friend of his who has an ulcerated leg.”

  Miranda let out an audible sigh. “I knew it. Did you get his name? I’m looking for my friend, and I thought it might be him.”

  “No, I’m sure I don’t know the man’s name. The patient was called Lindon or Lindberg—or maybe it was Lindquist. Yes, I believe it was Lindquist.”

  Miranda frowned. “I don’t know any Lindquists. My friend’s name is Adrik. Adrik Ivankov.”

  “That name sounds familiar,” Teddy said, looking at her oddly.

  “Well, it should, I have been talking about him—along with all my friends—ever since I woke up in your cabin,” Miranda countered. “You’re certain you don’t know the name of his friend?” she questioned the doctor again.

  “No, I’m sorry. The man was only here a short while. He brought in his friend and then left to retrieve supplies. They were heading back to their claim, as I recall. I was called in to offer an opinion on the leg, but nothing more. The man wasn’t even my patient.”

  Miranda nodded. “I understand. Thank you.” She turned to Teddy, more drained and discouraged by the man’s answers than by her wounded hand. “He’s probably gone by now. That was some time ago, at least an hour. No doubt they’ve headed back to their claim.” She felt as though her world were crumbling all over again.

  “Please take me back to the hotel.”

  Teddy gave her a look of compassion. “Indeed. I shall take you back and see to it that you are put to bed. I’ll bring one of the housekeepers to sit by your bed, as it would hardly be appropriate for me to care for you.”

  Miranda barely heard his words. She was certain she had seen Adrik, and the fact that no one else seemed to understand or know where she might find him was more than she could bear.

  When they returned to the hotel, Teddy arranged Miranda’s bed while the housekeeper he sent for stood by to assure propriety. Then he left the room while the girl helped Miranda change her clothes.

  His staff had done a marvelous job of cleaning up his workroom. There was no telltale sign of the glass or the blood. He’d have to offer them a bonus for their good work.

  Taking out his spectacles, Teddy bent over one of his journals and studied the drawing he’d made. Epilobium augustifolium. His gaze fell on the second part of the name. Augustifolium. The name made him think of Miranda’s friend. What had she called him?

  Adrik? Yes, Adrik Ivankov. The name sounded familiar to him, but for the life of him, Teddy couldn’t remember where he’d heard it. Perhaps he was simply recalling the memory of Miranda speaking the name so often—but he didn’t think so. The name seemed to attach itself to a vague memory of the same type of large man Miranda had described to the doctor.

  “I have Miss Colton all tucked in,” the house girl said, opening the adjoining door. “She asked me to keep the door open between the rooms.”

  Teddy was surprised but pleased with this news. He hated that propriety wouldn’t allow him to tend to Miranda as he had back in his cabin. Of course, Nellie had been the one to actually care for her at that time, but he had been able to look in on her at his leisure. And for some reason, that was very important to him.

  “I’ve arranged lunch,” Teddy called in to the next room just as a knock sounded at the door. “That should be it now.” He opened the door and a young man of about sixteen or seventeen stood holding a tray laden with food.

  It was the boy, however, and not the food that caught Teddy’s interest. The boy looked familiar, yet Teddy was quite sure they’d never met.

  “Do come in. You may leave the tray on the table over there,” he instructed the boy.

  As the youth entered the room and passed by Teddy, the memory suddenly came to him. The boy reminded Teddy of the young man who’d accompanied the buyer of his sled. The big man with the beard.

  The big man …

  Teddy felt the wind go out of him. Adrik Ivankov. The man who’d bought his sled had introduced himself as Adrik Ivankov. Of course! Teddy looked to the open door adjoining his room to Miranda’s. He should tell her, of course, but then what? He had no idea where the man had headed after purchasing the sled. He only recalled that the man and the boy had planned to depart immediately.

  He supposed he could tell Miranda that much. But what if she hated him for failing to recognize Adrik? Granted, it had been a simple and innocent mistake, but she had been sharing information about her friends and family for months. Teddy simply hadn’t bothered to listen carefully. He’d been too caught up in cataloging his plants and creating the book of his dreams—of his father’s dreams.

  “Do you need anything else, Mr. Davenport?” the boy asked.

  Teddy shook his head, tossed the boy a coin, and glanced again toward Miranda’s room. What could he say to her? He could tell her that he was a thoughtless oaf—a man given to his own selfish interests. But, of course, she already knew that.

  And he could hardly say, “Sorry, old girl, I was just remembering that I had an encounter with your friends when we first arrived in Dawson City. Pity I hadn’t paid attention to your stories or descriptions of them.”

  Teddy turned away from the open door and walked to the window. The hours of light had increased over the months and soon the thaw would be upon them. He would be ready to return to the fields to
gather specimens. He had hoped Miranda would accompany him and prayed she would consider making their arrangement a more permanent one.

  If I tell her the truth, she’ll hate me, he thought. She’ll blame me for letting them get away all those months ago. She’ll never speak to me again.

  He looked down on the streets below where a bustle of activity assured him that a change was in the air. The cold had kept people rather immobile for many months. Now whenever the sun was overhead and the weather higher than thirty-below, folks ventured out as if spring had come.

  “I can’t lose her,” he whispered against the glass. “I can’t.” In that moment he made his decision. He would say nothing. He would keep his secret and pray that Miranda would never learn the truth.

  —[CHAPTER EIGHTEEN]—

  SKAGWAY HAD COME into its own during Peter’s absence. The sights, sounds, even the smells, were different than the little mud-flat harbor town he’d known before. Hotels, stores, gambling halls, and drinking establishments lined the main thoroughfares and beckoned his company. Church spires, schools, and a train depot suggested a more civilized society.

  The railroad, now running over White Pass, was rumored to make it all the way to Lake Bennett by summer. Peter thought it amazing, given the fact he’d worked on the railroad’s inception only last year. The rugged terrain did nothing to welcome a railroad, that much Peter knew firsthand. They’d been forced to blast rock shelves out from the sides of the mountain in order to lay track. The work had been perilous and often deadly. Apparently the workers’ temperaments matched that of the land. Stubbornness and pure grit would see the railroad built to Dawson City.

  “Mister, want to buy some mining equipment?” a scruffylooking man asked. “They’ve found gold in Nome, ya know. If you’re headin’ out to Nome, you’ll need some gear.”

  Peter smelled the foul odor of the man before he turned to meet his gnarled expression. “I don’t think so.”