Clara broke away, ecstatic and slightly abashed at her overly enthusiastic response. She dashed happy tears from her eyes and wiped her hands on her apron. “Do you want more coffee? Another helping of breakfast? There’s plenty to be had.”
Callie made a point to frown seriously at her plate. “No, I think I’ve had my fill. I’m going to…” She paused as she considered her day. “Uh…I’m going to go fishing.”
“Shall I fix you a lunch?” Clara fairly floated to the stove and prepared biscuits and a slice of pie before Callie could answer.
“Sure.” Callie’s chair scraped the floor as she stood. “I’ll just get dressed.” She fled to her corner of the cabin. Within minutes she’d donned clothes, accepted Clara’s lunch and fled the cabin.
Clara watched her retrieve her pole from the shed and disappear into the wilds. As soon as Callie was gone, Clara spun in the center of the cabin. I can stay! Oh, Emma! I wish you were here to celebrate with me!
* * *
Callie trudged through the brush, heading west from the cabin toward Taiyasanka Harbor. The prime fishing time had already passed, but that didn’t stop her. She needed to clear out of the cabin and avoid Clara’s obvious delight at being allowed to stay. Why Clara’s joy made her uncomfortable confused her. Somehow seeing the emotion and feeling Clara in her arms had been too cozy, too…intimate. Callie had watched women from afar, had longed for the touches and embraces they seemed to share with abandon, had yearned for that and more—though the more was a bit of a mystery to her. Having Clara excited and vibrant in her arms… Well, the idea of fishing was the first thing that had popped into Callie’s head, and she’d latched onto it for all she was worth.
Why the hell had she agreed to allow Clara to stay? Her obligation to the woman had ended once she’d delivered the news about Jasper. There was no groom for a bride, therefore the bride needed to return home. Besides, Callie hadn’t wanted a mail-order bride on the homestead in the first place, least of all a rich one from the big city who couldn’t navigate to the outhouse and back without a map, a compass and a guide.
But she’d felt sorry for Clara. Something about the way Clara mourned Jasper, though they’d never met, had struck a chord with Callie. She idly rubbed her full belly. Clara’s ability to cook didn’t hurt either. Where does a rich girl learn to bake pies like that? I thought she’d grown up with servants and the like.
Callie pointedly shoved away the non sequitur in favor of her current conundrum. The moment she’d capitulated to Clara’s request the previous morning was when Callie had lost control of the situation. She should have sent Clara back that very first day, dragging her kicking and screaming into Skagway and making arrangements with Daryl McKenzie to come back and pick up her luggage and foodstuffs.
If you had, you might have come home to find Jamie Perkins and Billy Quinn raiding the cabin.
Callie tripped past a tumble of brush and trees. That was a round-about argument, nothing more. Perkins might not have intended to reach the cabin. She’d just as likely have come home to an empty homestead with nothing out of place. “Like that would happen.” She swatted at a cloud of insects in her face. Perkins was a townie through and through, too prissy to get his hands and clothes dirty. It was a wonder he survived spring melt what with all the mud begging to ruin his expensive boots. No, his foray onto her property had to have been for the sole purpose of tormenting her. Jasper was gone and he thought her too weak to hold her place.
That was another thing. Callie wasn’t doing Clara any favors by letting her stay. What would have happened if Callie had followed the other trapline and Perkins had made it to the cabin to find Clara? If Perkins had nefarious plans for Callie, Clara would be in just as much danger, maybe more. Even if Perkins didn’t have schemes beyond picking on Callie, his crowd of lackeys would delight in teasing Clara mercilessly when they discovered that they lived together.
The thought of all those disgusting words being said to Clara sparked a fury in Callie’s chest well beyond what she had felt when they were directed at her. Maybe she deserved their aversion, not being a proper lady and all, but Clara certainly didn’t merit their foul opinions or invective. I should turn around and tell her she’s not staying. Just pack her up, pouting or no, and get rid of her.
All Callie could see was Clara’s brokenhearted expression when she’d heard about Jasper. The tears she’d cried that night had been as real as her earnest appeal this morning. Callie had noticed that Clara’s hazel eyes changed color with the light and her mood, seeming to darken when she was sad or worried; as her humor brightened so did their hue. Callie found that Clara was lovely enough with her dark hair and alabaster skin. With the addition of her brilliant smile and blue-green eyes, Clara was all the more beautiful. Even on this short of an acquaintance, Callie would miss her if Clara were to go.
She silently cursed her moment of weakness and kept walking toward the harbor and the nonexistent fish.
Chapter Ten
Clara crouched in the garden, pulling weeds as she hummed. The dirt beneath her fingers wasn’t as rich as she’d have liked, but it did the job well enough. Within minutes of Callie’s affirmation that she could stay, Clara had found shovels in the shed and started the garden plot. Now, a week later, it was with great pleasure that Clara noted the first sprouts of beans, corn and cucumbers. According to her copy of the Farmer’s Almanac, it was late in the season to plant these crops in this area, but she hoped to get in at least one decent harvest before the first frost. It might not be much but the more food she grew, the less they’d need to purchase from town. Next year she could get a proper start on seedlings to increase her yield. For today’s project, Clara planned to erect a fence to keep out the rodents and deer. There was already some evidence of nocturnal pilfering.
She completed the weeding and stood. She stretched as she ruefully massaged the ache in her lower back. Homesteading was harder work than living in an established house with a maid and a cook. It had been a pleasure to discover that the personal satisfaction of her accomplishments went a long way toward easing the pedestrian pain of sore muscles and the occasional scrape or bruise. Some might say, “Pride goeth before a fall,” but she couldn’t help but swell with it as she observed her new home. Sometimes she wished she was able to voice her joy like a songbird, trilling her pleasure to anyone who would listen. There were days she felt near to bursting with the delight of it all! She dusted off her dress, and gathered the weeds into her apron.
“Ho, the cabin!”
Clara spun, heart in her throat. The homestead was fifteen miles south of Skagway; who would possibly travel hours through privately owned land? Callie had warned her to keep the rifle handy, and here Clara stood on the far side of the yard, the weapon leaning against the porch woodpile. Her gaze scanned the forested edges of the yard, and she wondered if she’d have time to reach the weapon before the uninvited stranger made his appearance.
Daryl McKenzie came into sight, a packhorse behind him. His grin was wide in his white beard as he cradled his rifle and waved.
Warm relief caused Clara to shiver as she patted her chest. She returned his smile and wave as she disposed of the weeds, promising herself to not let the rifle be out of reach again. She crossed the yard. “Mr. McKenzie! What a nice surprise. What brings you out this way?”
He tipped his hat to her. “I thought I’d come round to check on you and Callie, Miss Stapleton. Haven’t heard a whisper from these parts since I dropped off your goods last week. Thought it would be neighborly to see how you’ve settled in.”
She gifted him with a rueful eyebrow. “And whether or not I needed a ride back to town?”
The elderly man flushed, but his smile widened. “I know Callie can be a terror when her dander is up. You being unfamiliar with these parts, I thought I’d offer my services as guide if you needed to return to Skagway.”
She patted his forearm with a laugh. “While I appreciate the offer, sir, there’s no need.” She
gestured toward the cabin. “Come sit on the porch and share some tea with me.”
“I’m never one to pass on food or drink.” He walked beside her across the yard, and hitched his pack animal to the porch post. “I also took the liberty of bringing along a little something to share if you’ve a mind.” He dug in one of the sacks hanging from his horse, and revealed a tin of fruit. “Canned peaches. Fresh from California.”
“Oh, my!” Clara waved for him to take one of the stools. “I’ll be right back with the tea.” Soon she sat with him in the morning light, the taste of lukewarm tea and the syrupy sweetness of canned peaches on her tongue. “These are delicious.”
“Yes, they are. And the tea hits the spot.”
“Thank you.”
McKenzie scanned the yard, noting the new additions to the homestead—the fresh garden with fencing material nearby, the compost pile set almost in the forest and a series of more permanent clotheslines Callie had strung up at Clara’s insistence. “The homestead is looking mighty fine,” McKenzie said.
Clara laughed. “It’s a little cleaner, yes.”
“I bet that took a spell of time,” McKenzie allowed.
“It did.” Clara sipped her tea, wishing she had ice handy. Though Alaska didn’t enjoy the same temperatures as a Boston summer, she’d toiled hard enough today to sweat. “Callie’s not much for the feminine arts. She said the place hadn’t been this clean since she initially moved here.”
McKenzie shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Jasper was a bachelor through and through when he came here. And Callie…” He shook his head with a fond grin. “Callie’s Callie.”
Clara silently agreed with him. Callie was indescribable some days. Clara had spent many hours attempting to portray her in a letter to Emma, but with little success. What could she say that would make sense to her best friend, that would explain the almost supernal attraction she felt for Callie? The woman had so many amazing peculiarities, but Clara seemed unable to properly explain them or the fact that she didn’t find those oddments offensive. The whole package that contained Callie Glass was a conundrum.
“When I delivered your goods and discovered Jasper had passed, I was surprised that she didn’t turn you out the first day,” McKenzie said. “I expect she’s been inconsolable. Jasper was her whole life.”
“I imagine so.” Clara frowned. “It’s only been a few weeks. I don’t know what she was like before. I only know her as withdrawn, somber, uncertain but still self-assured.” It was the latter that intrigued Clara. Callie’s poise and confidence in the face of such a personal tragedy served to make her all the more appealing.
“She’s got an impish side to her, never fear.” McKenzie’s countenance was one of fond remembrance. “She and Jasper had a war of ongoing pranks, always trying to do one better than the other.”
Clara wished she could see that side of Callie now. “Perhaps one day she’ll move past her grief and reveal such to me.”
“I expect she will. Why one time…”
She listened to him reminisce, imagining Callie putting on a joke with her brother, laughing and smiling. McKenzie’s rendition portrayed a Callie whose humor was rich and earthy, just like good farmland, a place where planted seeds yielded the best fruit. His Callie was one who wouldn’t remain sublimated for long, not without serious consequences to her mind and soul. Clara could only hope that some kernel of his Callie still existed beneath the stoic exterior she’d come to know, and that Clara could coax it from the darkness.
“Well I’m sure I’ve bored you enough.” McKenzie stood, and dusted off his pants. “Thank you kindly for the tea, Miss Stapleton.”
“Hardly boring, Mr. McKenzie! You’ve reminded me that I miss the occasional visit.” Clara rose. “I wouldn’t trade this for the world, but it’s nice to sit and converse with a friend. Thank you for the peaches. They were delightful.” She followed him to his horse.
“I might have a cure for those blues.” He rummaged in a saddlebag. “Perhaps you two would like to come to town two days hence. There’s a social in the works—a new piano player and some dancers arrived last week. The plan is to block off Main Street for an evening of dancing. There may even be a talent show.” He handed her a folded paper. “It’d probably do Callie good to come to town. I hear she ain’t been in but once since Jasper got hurt.”
The idea seized Clara as she opened the paper. It was a hand-drawn flyer providing details for the upcoming dance. “Thank you. I’ll see if I can convince her to go.”
“Good luck on that score.” McKenzie mounted his horse. “Though it was my express purpose to do the same, I didn’t think I had much of a shot so soon after Jasper.”
Clara smiled. “I was able to convince her to allow me to stay.”
He laughed. “Then you should do fine. Convey my greetings to Callie, and perhaps I’ll see you in town day after tomorrow.”
“If not, would you be so kind as to deliver my correspondence to the post in town?” At Daryl’s assent, she gave him the letters she’d written to Emma and her parents. She said goodbye and watched him leave, amazed to note an urgent need to follow, to bring him back and sit a spell longer. She turned slowly back toward her garden fencing. It had been a long time since she’d had a proper visit with anyone; she was loath to be alone again so soon. Contrarily, she didn’t feel the urge to return to Skagway or even Boston, preferring the solitude she’d discovered here. It didn’t help that Callie wasn’t much of a talker, though whether that was normal behavior or a result of her grief remained in question. The fact was she probably needed more contact with people too, just like Clara did. Perhaps we can visit every two weeks or so. That should be enough to assuage the need for distraction and conversation.
She nodded to herself, hands on her hips as she studied the fencing material. “No more dillydallying.” As she got to work on her next project, she resolved to drag Callie into town the day after tomorrow. Getting her to go would be a struggle, but Clara was up for the battle. As she worked she began a mental shopping list of things they could use from town.
* * *
“You can’t be serious.”
Clara cocked her head, a frown twitching her lower lip. “Of course I am.” Her hazel eyes began to darken, a sure sign that her spirits drooped.
Callie turned in a huff, arms akimbo as she resisted the urge to run out the cabin door. She’d noticed a decided difficulty when naysaying Clara’s ideas and much preferred it when Clara’s eyes were bright with happiness. Perhaps it would go easier if Callie couldn’t see Clara’s disappointment. “It’s a cockamamie plan.”
She heard the swish of clothing as Clara moved closer, though for a wonder she didn’t actually touch Callie this time. That had been something to get used to, Clara’s need for tactile affirmations when they talked. “It’s just for a night. I have enough money for a room at the hotel. It’ll do us both good to get out for a bit.”
Callie doubted that. The thought of spending a full day in Skagway made her shoulders and gut tense as she imagined all the hostile stares and whispers. “I don’t need to get out. I’m right where I want to be.”
Clara sighed. “Maybe so, but even you need a change of scenery once in a while. Mr. McKenzie said there’s going to be a talent show and everything!”
The talent show did have its appeal; the idea of it teased the edges of Callie’s denial. She’d never seen a talent show before. Still she couldn’t shake the fact that Jasper wouldn’t be there. She’d spent the last seven years toughening herself up but secretly doubted she could protect herself from Jamie Perkins and his ilk. It was sissifying to recognize that she was as weak as she looked. The realization galled her. And if she couldn’t protect herself, how was she supposed to protect Clara too?
“We still have to go to town every so often for staples. You’ve got to trade your skins and meat, otherwise what’s the point of trapping?”
Callie sighed. Clara had a valid point, one that Callie had struggled w
ith for near a month. If she didn’t get her goods to town soon, she’d lose money. As it was, she’d smoked and brain-tanned everything she could to avoid the meat and skins going bad, but it wasn’t enough to stave off the natural order of decomposition forever.
Against her better judgment, she turned toward Clara’s hopeful face. “It ain’t safe in town. I’ll go alone.” The stern expression she received forced Callie back a step, her resolve wavering in light of Clara’s disfavor.
“You most certainly will not! If it’s that dangerous in Skagway, I’ll not cower here at home and leave you to the perils of travel. For wont of any other word, we are partners in this endeavor!”
Callie stared at Clara, astonished at her ferocity. What had happened to the well-to-do debutante who had invaded her homestead? That pleasant young woman had become this veritable Valkyrie, bristling with righteous fury as she prepared for battle. Callie brought her hands up to waist height, palms forward as she patted the air to calm Clara. “Fine. We won’t need to go into town. I’ll arrange to have the goods picked up.” Even as the words spilled out she knew they wouldn’t happen. No butcher or furrier would bother with a trip when every other trapper delivered to his or her doors. If she couldn’t bring herself to make Skagway trips, she’d lose business.
“That’s silly.” Clara’s face mellowed from its battle-readiness to the simple sternness of a mother talking sense into her recalcitrant offspring. “Even with the staples I brought with me, we still need more things from town—axe handles, crockery, butter and eggs. We can combine all our purchases and sales in this one trip and still have time to watch the entertainment.”
Callie rubbed the back of her neck as she searched for other arguments. She’d never admitted her fears to anyone, not even Jasper. She certainly couldn’t do so with Clara Stapleton, a complete stranger. “I don’t like staying away overnight.”
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