Where Heaven Begins

by Rosanne Bittner

  The woman laughed lightly and bowed slightly when Elizabeth let go of her. “Am honored to meet sister of my husband,” she told Elizabeth.

  “And I’m so happy to meet you, too!”

  “Elizabeth!” Peter nearly shouted her name. “How did you know about Summer?”

  “Summer?”

  He nodded toward his wife. “Her Chinese name is Lanyi Peng. In English it’s Summer.”

  “Oh!” Elizabeth ran back down to Peter. “Collette told me. I saw her in town and she told me how to find you.”

  “Collette?” He shook his head. “Oh, yes. She told me about meeting you back in Seattle or somewhere, and what you did for one of her friends.” He stepped back and looked Elizabeth over. “And look how you’re dressed—like a boy!” He ran a hand through his red hair. “Liz, I can hardly believe this is the innocent—and rather ignorant, if I might say—little sister I left behind! Making friends with prostitutes and bounty hunters! Accepting my Chinese wife as though it’s perfectly natural for me to marry a Chinese woman. Talking about being in love and—” He looked closer. “Is that a six-gun in your belt?”

  “Oh!” Elizabeth pulled it out. “Yes. It’s Clint’s. He’s very good with it. He’s shot a lot of men with it. Peter, when I met him he didn’t even believe in God anymore, but he’s changed so much. I think I’ve helped him find his way back to God. I have so much to tell you about all of this.”

  “That’s no surprise.” He put his hands on his hips. “You, little lady, are sounding more and more like our father. Could it be you understand why I came up here? Do you actually see people the way I do? The way father saw them?”

  “The way God sees them, Peter. Yes.”

  “What on earth made you leave in the first place?”

  She calmed down, closing her eyes and sighing. “You won’t believe it when I tell you, but all I know now is that I was supposed to come here, for a whole lot more reasons than I first thought. Let’s just get Clint inside for now. Can you find somebody to take care of his horse? His name is Devil, and he’s in bad need of getting his hooves filed and having new shoes put on and getting a decent meal of oats and hay and a warm place to stay and—”

  Peter put a hand over her mouth. “First things first. I’ll help Clint inside, and then I’ll bring in the rest of your supplies. Then I’ll take care of your horse.”

  Elizabeth felt as if she was dreaming. They were really, really here! Summer, a tiny woman with kind, dark eyes led her inside, telling Elizabeth she would do all she could for Clint. The two of them prepared several blankets in front of a stone fireplace and Summer built up the fire while Peter helped Clint into the cabin and to the bed the women had made up for him. They took off Clint’s coat and pulled off his boots, and Summer began heating the liniment Elizabeth gave her, as well as heating water for tea.

  “I take care of putting liniment on him,” Summer told Elizabeth. “You need sleep. In there.” She pointed toward a curtained doorway.

  “Oh, but that must be yours and Peter’s room.”

  “Is fine. Peter would want you sleep comfortable. We will be busy cleaning up your friend. I shave him, put liniment on him, keep him warm.”

  “But I should—”

  “You have been through much. I’ll bring you hot water. You wash and go to sleep.”

  “I have to admit, sleeping in a real bed sounds wonderful.” Elizabeth removed her jacket, for the first time realizing how filthy and smelly it had become. “Oh, Summer, I don’t even have any other clothes to wear! We lost them in the river.”

  “I have American woman dresses. We look same size…except for this!” She laughed and touched her swollen belly.

  Elizabeth smiled. “I’m so happy for Peter.”

  “And I am happy that you accept our marriage. You are a good sister, just like Peter says you are. We have both prayed hard that you get here safely.” She led Elizabeth into their bedroom, taking a quilted robe down from a hook on the wall. “You wash. Wear this for now. We find you a dress when you wake up.”

  Elizabeth looked around the tidy room, decorated with a few Chinese vases and pictures. She realized she still had so much to learn about other people. Sitting down on the bed, she pulled off her hardened, cracked, worn boots and damp socks that were full of holes.

  Summer returned with a kettle of hot water and poured some into a wash bowl on a stand near the bed, where a bar of soap and a towel lay. “You wash. I bring you hot tea and some biscuits. Then you sleep.”

  Much as Elizabeth wanted to stay with Clint, she knew he was in good hands, and that she wouldn’t be any good to him if she got sick, too. Sleep. Yes, that’s what she needed.

  This all seemed so unreal. She’d known this day had to finally come, and yet they had been traveling and living out of doors for so long that she felt strangely out of place. Her whole world had been turned upside down the past month, and she would never be the same.

  She washed and put on the blessedly warm robe. Summer brought her the tea and biscuits, and she barely finished her second biscuit before she felt her body shutting down. She could relax now. She could really, really relax. She walked to the curtained doorway to look out and see both Peter and Summer undressing Clint. They would take good care of him. Surely now he would be all right.

  Tired. She was so, so tired, not just physically, but tired of the constant worries and dangers, the relentless, bitter cold. She climbed into a feather mattress and pulled several quilts over herself.

  A real bed! “Oh, thank you, thank you, Jesus,” she muttered before everything went dark and she drifted into the most blessed sleep she’d known since leaving San Francisco.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  …I found him whom my soul loveth: I held him, and would not let him go.

  —Song of Solomon 3:4

  Dawson, September 19, 1898

  Elizabeth awoke to voices. She turned on her back, staring at the log ceiling and trying to remember where she was, and as she stretched, enjoying the glorious softness of the feather mattress, she remembered the previous day’s events.

  Getting out of bed and retying the robe that Summer had thoughtfully left for her, she walked over to peek through the curtain and saw Clint, sitting up in a rocker!

  “Clint!” She walked through the curtain. He was washed and shaved…and looked far more handsome than she’d remembered. “Clint, you look wonderful! How do you feel?”

  He looked her over appreciatively, and she pulled her hair behind her shoulders, suddenly self-conscious, wishing now that she’d brushed it before exiting the bedroom.

  “Your brother tells me I’ll live,” he answered with a grin, followed by a siege of coughing.

  “He has a long way to go to get his strength back,” Peter told her. He and Summer sat at a homemade kitchen table.

  “Well, I guess you and Clint have made your own introductions,” she told Peter.

  “Oh, yes.” Peter grinned teasingly. “I even know you’ve slept in the same tent with this man for the past month.”

  Elizabeth reddened. “It wasn’t—”

  “Don’t worry,” Clint told her. “He understands. He made the trip up here himself, you know. He knows what it’s like.”

  Peter sobered. “And I’m eternally grateful to Clint for helping you get here safely. We’ve been talking about a lot of things.”

  Elizabeth looked back at Clint. “Oh? Like what?”

  Clint rested his head against the back of the rocker, closing his eyes. “Like Jen and Ethan…and you and…everything.”

  Elizabeth looked at Peter again. “When did you do all this talking?”

  “All morning.”

  “All morning?”

  Peter looked up at a clock on the fireplace mantel. “Well, you’ve been sleeping just about eighteen hours now.”

  “What!”

  “The sun is about to set, dear sister. You got here about five o’clock last night and it is now one o’clock in the afternoon of t
he next day.”

  Elizabeth covered her mouth. “Oh, my! I’m so sorry! I should have been helping—”

  “No. You should have been sleeping,” Peter interrupted. “It’s the best thing for you. Besides, it gave me and Clint time to talk about all the things you would have told me anyway. If you’re going to marry this man, I want to know everything about him. And I also want to be sure he’s right with God. We’ve been talking and praying. He knows he’s lucky to be alive, and that there has to be a reason for that, which is his love for you. But there is one more matter to be cleared up first.”

  Feeling confused, Elizabeth sat down at the table, looking over at Clint.

  “Roland Fisher is here in Dawson, Liz,” he told her. “Peter knows who he is, but he didn’t know he was a wanted man.” He coughed again and pulled a quilt closer around his shoulders.

  Elizabeth glanced at Clint’s gun belt and six-gun, which hung on a hook on the wall near the fireplace. One of his repeating rifles was propped against the same wall underneath the six-gun. She looked back at Clint. “And?”

  “And I’m going to go find him.”

  Her stomach tightened. “And?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. God has something in mind, I’m sure. The only way I’ll find that out is to find the man and talk to him.”

  “What if he realizes who you are? Misunderstands? What if he shoots at you?”

  Clint glanced at Peter, then back to Elizabeth. “Then I won’t have any choice but to shoot back. I’m hoping that won’t happen, but at least I won’t be going there to shoot him first for bounty. I don’t want to do that anymore, Liz. At least I don’t think I do. I have to see the man first. I have to find out if I can look another murderer in the eyes and not want to kill him. It’s just something I have to do before we can get married. I’ve told you that all along. That hasn’t changed.”

  Elizabeth looked down, toying with a tie on the front of her quilted robe. “I see.”

  “It’s time to put all this in God’s hands, Elizabeth,” Peter told her. “You’ve got to trust Him, and you’ve got to trust Clint that this is something very personal to him. This is a battle he has to fight alone. You can’t help him.”

  Elizabeth felt like crying. Why had she thought that once they arrived here Clint would just drop his past and they would marry and live happily ever after, even if Roland Fisher was in the same town? “I know,” she answered. She looked at Clint as a tear slipped down her cheek. “You won’t go right away, will you? I mean, you’re far from well, Clint. You need to be well and strong before you face that man.”

  He nodded. “I know. In the meantime I don’t want anyone saying anything to Fisher about me being here and why. Don’t go trying to warn the man, thinking he’ll go away and that will solve everything. It won’t, Liz. I’ll just go after him. Besides that, we have no idea how dangerous he is. Peter says he has a wife and kids and seems to be a perfectly normal family man, but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. So don’t go do something stupid. Will you promise me that?”

  Elizabeth slowly nodded. “I promise.”

  “Good.” Clint gave her a smile. “Now, come over here and sit on my lap. I don’t think Peter will care.”

  Peter chuckled. “Just watch yourself. She’s still my sister and not your wife yet.”

  Elizabeth was never more sure that she wanted to be Clint’s wife. She walked over to him and gladly sat down and curled up in his lap, resting her head on his shoulder. “I love you,” she told him. “And I’m scared for you.”

  He moved his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “Don’t be. You know darn well I can take care of myself, and besides, you’re the one who’s always said to trust God, aren’t you?”

  He was talking about God as though he truly believed again! How she loved her brother. She’d known all along Peter would know the right things to say to Clint, and Clint was apparently seeking God’s love and forgiveness. Surely nothing could change this, not even Roland Fisher.

  She snuggled closer, relishing the safety of his arms, breathing deeply of his scent, feeling no fear of allowing Clint Brady to make her his own.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone:…I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.

  —Song of Solomon 5:6

  The next three weeks were the most joyous, pleasant days Elizabeth had ever known, even though, compared to San Francisco, life here was about as rugged as a person could experience. It was enough to be warm and to have hot food, even though often it was no more than broth and biscuits because of a need to be as sparing as possible. No one could tell what kind of winter lay ahead, how deep the snows would become, how difficult it might turn out to be to find game, which had been extremely thinned out because of so many prospectors shooting everything in sight for food.

  Summer’s clothes were simple but clean and nicely starched and pressed. It felt so good to wear slips and dresses again that Elizabeth felt beautiful in anything she wore. Peter had promised that by next year more supplies would arrive and Elizabeth would be able to find cloth to make more clothes for herself. Clint slept in an unfinished loft, and he’d bought a cot for Elizabeth to sleep on in the main room. Clint’s healing time was spent in long talks with Peter, sometimes about what might happen to Dawson, since yet another strike had been discovered farther west and men who’d had no luck here were already planning to leave Dawson in the spring.

  To Elizabeth’s delight, Clint attended church services with her. Even Collette came a few times, something that warmed Elizabeth’s heart. It seemed things had come full circle. She was leading a more normal life again. And she felt so much more complete now that she’d learned about a different way of looking at people like Collette and the Chinese and the Eskimos and even the prospectors who seemed to care about nothing but finding gold. All were God’s children, and all needed to hear His word.

  It was midmorning, and she sat at the kitchen table writing in her diary while Summer stirred a rabbit stew in a pot hanging in the fireplace.

  With each passing day Clint grows stronger. He’s gaining back some of the weight he lost on the journey, and it warms my heart to see how much Peter likes him. Summer’s baby is due any time, and so we all stay close, playing checkers, telling stories about our adventures. Clint and Peter sometimes have to dig pathways through the snow to get to the horse shed.

  These are the happiest times I’ve had since before father was killed, and I can’t wait to become Clint’s wife, but one thing still has to be settled, something Clint has not discussed and I dare not mention. Roland Fisher. Even though Clint has been attending church and talking and praying with Peter, he still has not mentioned giving up on finding Mr. Fisher so we can be married.

  “I think the baby is coming!”

  Elizabeth quickly put down her pen at the words, closing the diary and rushing to put her arm around Summer, who looked ready to fall. The woman bent over in pain, and Peter came to take Elizabeth’s place, helping Summer to the bedroom as he ordered Elizabeth to get some towels and extra blankets ready. “And make sure the hot water kettle is full!”

  Elizabeth obeyed, grabbing more towels from a cupboard in the main room and rushing into the bedroom to retrieve more blankets from a chest while Peter helped Summer undress. She hurried over to the bed and aided Peter in getting a flannel nightgown on Summer, who then curled up on her side in pain.

  “What should I do now?” Elizabeth asked Peter.

  “I don’t know. Wait, I guess…and pray.” He looked at Elizabeth, terror in his eyes. “I don’t know a thing about delivering babies, and there’s no doctor in this town.”

  “I don’t know anything, either!” Elizabeth answered. She reached across the bed and Peter took her hands. They prayed for a safe delivery and for Summer’s health.

  It was the beginning of five more hours of screams and waiting and pray
ing and wiping perspiration from Summer’s brow. Elizabeth wanted to cry over Summer’s agony, but felt helpless to do anything about it. The pain is just a natural part of childbirth, she remembered her mother telling her once, but Summer’s groans and screams were unnerving.

  Through it all Clint stayed in the main room. Elizabeth wondered what was going through his mind as he’d been awfully quiet throughout the ordeal, just sitting in a rocker staring at the fire in the hearth.

  Finally Summer insisted the baby was coming, and, scared to death she’d do something wrong that could hurt the mother or baby, Elizabeth ran out into the main room.

  “I don’t know a thing about delivering babies! Not a thing!” she told Clint, as she wrapped a towel around the handle of the hot water kettle that hung on an iron hook over the fire. “Do you?” She faced him, noticing an odd look of sorrow in his eyes. “Clint?”

  He met her gaze. “I helped deliver Ethan.”

  “Then you can help with this!”

  He closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the rocker. “She’s not my wife. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “There is no doctor in this town, Clint, and Peter and I don’t know a thing about this! And you and I owe a lot to Peter and Summer. Don’t tell me it’s because she’s not your wife. Surely having a baby is very different from…I mean…” She felt herself blushing. “Having a baby is surely a beautiful thing. Besides, I don’t think that’s your problem. It’s the memory of Ethan that’s bothering you, isn’t it?”