The Snowflake

by Jamie Carie

  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as Blue’s face nuzzled his. He gathered them around him with pats to their heads, backs, and sides, their tongues lolling, eyes brighter as they nudged to get closer to him.

  After warming them up, he turned toward Ellen who was smiling tenderly at him and the dogs. The smile made his breath catch. He covered the sound by clearing his throat. “I’ll show you how to hitch them to the sled.”

  He handed her a long leather strap. She grasped it, gazing up at him with that look she always gave him, like she believed in him, like she trusted him and thought he could do anything. It caught him off guard as it always did, made his heart strain to rise to the challenge—to be a better man than he was and deserve that look.

  God, don’t let me fail her like I failed my wife.

  He paused to brush a stray curl back into her hood. The action made a knot form in his throat. What was he doing? He’d always done that with his wife—brushed back her hair into its tight braid—but Ellen’s hair was different, like a waterfall of silk. The color was a deeper brown than her eyes, strands rich with chestnut hues of brown and almost black. His fingertips brushed across her reddened cheek before his hand fell to his side.

  A part of him wanted to turn and walk away. An equally strong part wanted to kiss her. He ground his teeth together. Kalage has only been gone seven months. What’s wrong with you? Get a hold of yourself.

  His voice was gruff, but he couldn’t help it as he turned toward the dogs and instructed, “Put the harness around their shoulders and chests, then we will hitch them to the sleds.”

  Ellen hesitated when the first dog grew restless under her unsure hands. Feeling that he had his emotions under control, Buck walked over and petted Shelby. “It will help if you know their names. Let’s introduce you. This is Shelby, the lead dog. She is strong and never forgets a thing. We can take a trail one time and Shelby will remember it. I have never been lost with her as my lead.” He patted Shelby on the head.

  “How do you know the dogs so well? I thought they came from the steamer.”

  “These four and this sled are mine. I brought them with me from Sitka. That’s how Kalage and I traveled to Skagway.”

  “Oh.” She looked sorry to have brought it up.

  Ruffling the fur on the neck of the next dog, Buck motioned Ellen farther down the line. “This is Duke; he’s what we call the swing dog. He helps the other dogs follow Shelby’s lead.” He patted him twice on his side. “Very strong. Pretty tuckered out now, though, aren’t you, boy?”

  Duke panted up into Buck’s face and then licked his hand, as if to assure Buck he was up to the task.

  Buck moved to the next dog, a little smaller and darker. “This is Gunsmoke. He’s a good musher, puts all of his efforts into it. He has a heart of gold.”

  Gunsmoke nuzzled into Buck’s hand and wagged his tail with an energy that spoke of love stronger than exhaustion.

  “And last is Blue. She’s the youngest, just three years old, but she’s strong, and I think she has the makings of a leader in her.”

  “She’s beautiful.” Ellen reached out and petted Blue’s silky head.

  “She’s a full-blooded Malamute. The others are huskies except for Gunsmoke and he’s a mix.” Buck grinned. “Wouldn’t surprise me if he had some wolf in him.”

  Buck finished tightening the harness on Shelby just as Randy broke through a stand of trees and hurried toward them. The look on his face wasn’t good.

  “What is it, Randy? Did you find something?” Buck asked.

  Randy glanced at Ellen and then said in a terse voice, “I found Sinclair.”

  “Alive?”

  Randy shook his head. “He’d been . . . half eaten. A bear, maybe. There were lots of tracks around him.”

  Ellen covered her mouth with her hand, and Buck bit off a low curse. “That’s too bad,” Buck muttered instead. His mouth hardened into a thin line. “Bear meat isn’t the tastiest dinner, but we could sure do with some fresh meat. Do you think it might be close by?”

  Randy shrugged. He had never been one of the hunters. “That’s what took me so long. I tracked the prints for a little ways, but I didn’t want to go too far alone. Should we send out a hunting party?”

  Buck gazed at the group as he deliberated. If the hunters were successful, they might gain the strength to make it to Dawson. If they weren’t, they would lose valuable time and energy, making the likelihood of success a dim possibility. Buck drew out his compass, studied it, and then stared at the sky. It didn’t look like snow, but there was that gut feeling, tingling, warning him. Buck’s gaze lingered on Ellen’s face, his mouth tight and grim.

  “I think a storm might be approaching. We don’t have time to waste. Let’s keep moving.”

  It was midafternoon when Buck suddenly stopped and pointed. “Look!” He waved us toward him. We all stopped, each seeing it at the same time, each comprehending our salvation: Dawson City. A great cry leapt from our throats. Some of the men whooped while others fell to their knees in thanksgiving. One by one we fell apart—laughing and cheering, hugging one another with ice tears freezing on our cheeks. One by one we gave way to our hope.

  I looked down at my snow-covered moccasins, then up into Buck’s glad eyes. “Will the snow really melt?”

  Buck grasped my hand. “And the ice too.” His voice had a quiver in it as he gazed deep and full into my eyes.

  Tears sprang to my throat as I smiled up at him in hope that someday the ice around my heart would melt too. “Yes. The ice too.”

  We rushed forward with renewed energy and stumbling steps. The smile that was pasted across my frozen lips didn’t waver over the next half hour as Dawson turned from a dark spot on the horizon into the shapes of buildings and then scurrying townsfolk. As word spread, scores of people rushed from tents, shops, and saloons to greet us.

  I walked down the hard-packed, snow-clogged Front Street holding tight to Buck’s side, but we were soon separated as curious men and a few women squeezed between us. Their questions sounded like distant buzzing in my ears. I looked into the faces of bearded men dressed in all manner of winter gear and swayed with exhaustion.

  A woman’s arms came around to steady me as I started to collapse to the street. She held me upright for a moment with her hands on my upper arms.

  I started to thank her but could only gape at her beauty. She was dressed in the most stunning gown I had ever seen. Bright red with black lace trim, cut low in the front, and a full skirt adorned with more black lace. A fur wrap hung slightly askew, as if hastily thrown over her shoulders.

  When I gazed back at her face, she was smiling at me with a knowing look. Her hair was a shocking red, fat rows of curls piled atop her head and spilling down her back. She was the most outlandish and beautiful creature I had ever seen.

  She stretched out a perfect, ivory hand. “I’m Kate, Queen of Dawson.”

  Dawson had a queen? I knew we were in Canada now but hadn’t imagined a queen. I smiled, a feeble motion of my lips, and shook her hand. “Ellen Pierce.” I was suddenly, horribly aware of how awful I must appear.

  Her smile grew, flashing perfect pearls of teeth. “I would like to ask you all sorts of questions, but you look frozen through and starving to boot. Do you have a place to stay?”

  I turned and saw that Buck was surrounded by a large group of men. He seemed to be explaining our situation.

  Kate’s eyes followed mine. Her gaze held appreciation mixed with humor. “Is that your husband?” Her voice had a faint accent I didn’t recognize.

  I blushed and shook my head. “He’s our leader. Buck Lewis.”

  “Hmmm.” She nodded and searched the crowd. Her perfect brow puckered. The frown only made her seem prettier somehow, as if that look could win her anything she wanted. Her blue eyes flashed back at me, and she rushed out the words. “Old Mrs. Lawrence is about to descend upon us. She’ll offer you a room, of course, and you should probably take it, though she’ll c
harge you an outrageous fee as soon as you get on your feet.”

  She cocked her head and studied me for a moment and then seemed to come to some conclusion. “Or you could stay with me. I’ll not ask anything of you, but I won’t say I won’t offer an . . . opportunity or two when you are feeling better.”

  “An opportunity?” Dizziness swept over me in a wave. Did the beautiful creature have any idea just how hard it was for my sluggish brain to try and decipher what she was saying?

  “Never mind.” Kate drew me close to her side. “We’ll say you are my cousin. Just don’t hate me for it later.”

  How I could ever hate her was beyond me.

  The woman she spoke of barreled toward us and then stopped short when she saw Kate’s arm around my waist supporting me. She huffed, her gaze not quite looking at either of us.

  “Mrs. Lawrence,” Kate voice took on a purring quality. “This is my cousin come all the way from . . .”

  “California.” I filled in the blank.

  Kate nodded happily. “I can barely believe she made it, but we’ll have to hear the tale later. She is about to drop, as you can see. I should take her home.”

  The worn-out-looking woman pressed her lips together in a thin line, gave me a long studying glare, and then turned her back on us.

  Well, I wouldn’t want to stay with her anyway.

  “Quite so,” Kate muttered, and I realized I must have said it aloud. “Do you want to say anything to your friends?”

  Buck was surrounded by townspeople and speaking to them. His face appeared ashen with exhaustion. I wanted to shout at them to leave him alone but didn’t have the strength. “No, just some water, a warm fire, and a real bed.” How did I get so lucky to have such a beautiful guardian angel to help me?

  “Of course.” She waved toward a group of men who disengaged from the crowd and walked over to us. “This here is Ben Roseland. Ben, could you or one of your associates carry my new friend here? I don’t think she will make it another step without some help.”

  I was about to protest when strong arms scooped me up, making my head spin anew. The man had cheery, hazel eyes and a broad chest and shoulders. I decided to stay put. He seemed more than capable of the task and ready to do anything Kate asked of him.

  I peered back over Ben’s shoulder as Buck looked up. Our gazes locked for a long moment. I waved, my arm feeling like a well-cooked noodle. He frowned but was unable to do anything to get to me. I could find him later. Maybe he would be staying with Mrs. Lawrence. A bubble of hysterical laughter escaped my throat.

  Ben looked down and grinned at me. “Nice ride?”

  “Oh yes. Very comfortable, thank you,” I managed to choke out, wanting to laugh again. Maybe I was just so happy to be alive. I don’t think I really believed we would make it to Dawson, but we had, and it felt wonderful to know these people, these larger-than-life, glittering strangers, were more than willing to take care of me.

  I closed my eyes and sighed. Dawson was a very nice place indeed.

  Chapter Six

  I awoke to the quiet ticking of a clock. My eyelids were as heavy as sodden blankets. I tried to lift them, felt a wave of exhaustion overwhelm me, and then drifted back into the darkness.

  I don’t know how much longer it was until I had the next coherent thought, but it came stronger, brighter. The sun was loud against my eyes.

  I blinked and then blinked again. Where was I?

  The first thing I saw was a flowing, silken canopy draped above the bed. It was white, translucent, and fluttered with the soft air moving in the room. I turned my head toward a white marble fireplace ablaze with warm heat. The mantel held a vase of what appeared to be real flowers, but how that could be in the dead of winter in a town so far from anywhere was puzzling and a little frightening. I sniffed the air and smelled an odd mix of roses and . . . metal.

  My brow furrowed. Metal? I had never smelled metal. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. A memory surged forward. Jonah holding a gold nugget in his palm. He pressed it to my nose, forcing my head toward his hand, as he told me of our next plan, our next city, our next escape from reality. The name, the vision of him—my dark, glorious, insane brother—brought back the truth. He’d died on the trail. I had let him die.

  I’d wanted him to die.

  As the thoughts connected around my sleep-clouded brain, a sob rushed from my rib cage. What had I done? I’d failed in everything my mother had charged me with. I had not kept him safe. I had not protected him from the harsh realities of the world. I had not been nailed to my cross to the bitter end. No. I’d done what Christ had not. I had plucked out the nails as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Yes, I had spilled out the last five years for Jonah, but I had not gone the full distance.

  I’d chosen my life before his.

  The thought made me want to sink back into the blackness of sleep and stay there forever, but my body rebelled. It fought toward full consciousness and embraced the bright light seeping through the window.

  The door creaked open. I turned my head to see a woman holding a tray with something steaming atop it. She had a smile I recognized in a vague way. And her hair. It was so very red.

  “Hello again, Ellen.”

  My gaze followed her as she set the tray on the bedside table.

  “You’ve finally rejoined the land of the living. And about time too. I was getting weary of spooning broth into your mouth.” She laughed then, a tinkling of bells in the room. I blinked at her, still trying to wake up.

  She busied herself by propping me up with a strong arm and plumping my pillows so I could sit up. A few seconds later I heard tea being poured into a delicate cup. She pressed it toward me, helping my hand reach for the handle. The steam drifted toward my nose and smelled like heaven.

  “How long have I been here?” I croaked out, taking a tiny sip.

  “Three days now. You roused every few hours, and we spooned nourishment into you when we could.” Kate looked down toward my feet. “We were afraid frostbite had taken your toes, but I am glad to say they are as pretty as ever thanks to Doc Maynard. He’s a friend and it’s a good thing. The other doctor in town—” She shivered and I understood that Doc Maynard had saved my feet.

  The sugary tea slid down my throat and warmed my stomach. Kate lifted a bowl from the tray, handed it to me, and took the empty cup, holding it loosely in her lap. “The color is coming back into your cheeks,” she commented as I took a long swallow of the brown broth.

  Nothing had ever tasted so good. I nodded above the bowl. “Thank you.” It was all I could say. I didn’t know how to tell her she wasn’t real to me yet.

  She was like some fairy queen come to life in her bright yellow dress with a wide green sash tied into a giant bow at her back. From her ears dangled what appeared like yellow diamonds and a matching three-stranded choker wrapped around her neck. Who was she?

  I realized, in a sudden yet slow way, that I was ensconced in the finest satin bedding. I gazed about the room as I sipped my broth, each glance a new revelation. The silken wall coverings, paintings that could have belonged in a renowned museum, glittering golden molding around windows and encircling the ceiling. Above my head a huge chandelier hung suspended. It glittered with cut crystal, the beams of sunlight from the window catching and splitting into dots of colored light that danced around the room. It was a fairy place . . . but we were in Dawson City. A tent city from all accounts. A place where the newly rich rubbed elbows with the down-and-out. Kate was definitely not one of the down-and-out.

  “You have had several visitors, Ellen.”

  I wiped my chin on the cloth she handed me. “Who?”

  “Buck was here yesterday.” She smiled a little when she said his name, and a thought, unbidden, came to mind that they would make a perfect couple. “He tried to move you,” she waved a delicate hand in the air as if brushing away an annoying fly, “to some boardinghouse he’d found for you. But I convinced him you were in no shape to be moved
just yet and that it should be your decision where you stay, now that your horrid trek is over, don’t you agree?”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. “I guess so.” I hadn’t really thought much about what I would do after reaching Dawson City, but the thought of not seeing Buck . . . What if he had already left Dawson? “Is Buck still in town?” The man he was tracking might not even be in this town any longer. Panic washed over me as I rose from the pillow and tried to swing my legs over the side of the bed.

  Kate stopped me with a touch on my arm, her eyes soft and kind. “Shh. It’s all right. I told him to come back in a few days. You need to rest.”

  I leaned back against the pillow with a long sigh. I was so tired, more tired than I ever remembered being. “Thank you,” I said again, not knowing how else to tell her how grateful I was.

  “No need for that. You’ll be as good as new in a few more days. And then you have to tell me—”

  “Tell you?”

  “Your story, of course.” She patted the blanket and then fixed it around me. “I will know everything. And I will tell you everything I know. And then we will be the best of friends.” Her face turned wistful. “I know it.”

  For a second, just a tiny moment of time, her face lost its facade, softened, and surprise flooded me as I glimpsed the smallest peek into her soul. The queen of Dawson, a woman who appeared to have everything . . . was lonely.

  “Yes. We will be friends.” I agreed and then wondered if I should have.

  What was that strange noise?

  I gave up trying to sleep, swung my legs over the side of the enormous bed, and let my toes dangle above the frosty floor. I cocked my head, heard it again, and furrowed my brow. It sounded like the deep tones of male laughter combined with feminine gasping, and it was coming from the room next door.