“Leo wants to learn. Badly,” Caleb had said with downcast eyes, as if asking a tremendous favor. “He’s frustrated lately. I reckon he needs a challenge, wants to prove himself. I know it takes him longer than most, but he can learn. More than you think, I know it.”
Lana’s heart twisted at the father’s plea. What parent didn’t want every possible opportunity for their child? Desire to learn was half the battle anyhow, and Leo had that in abundance.
Indeed, Leo hadn’t stopped talking to Mack since the minute church let out. But true to Leo’s intellect, he hadn’t yet worked out that it was Lana who’d teach him, and that Mack had only announced the start of the trial classes. The other children hadn’t any issue with his presence—Leo often played with the town children when he wasn’t helping Caleb on the docks.
Lana took a deep breath and began her teaching career. “Good morning, I’m Mrs. Tanner, and I’ll be your teacher. We’re going to sit in special groups by what you can do now,” Lana began, “and things will shift as we learn. Now, I’ve put a list of words on the board.” She pointed to the list of successively harder words she’d written on the chalkboard Mack had set up behind her. “Look at these words and count how many you can read.”
“One, two…” Leo started, ticking off his fingers.
“Silently,” Lana added. “But you can use your fingers if it helps.”
It took the better part of an hour to work through the four lists she’d prepared, but by the end of the first class she had the students grouped by reading and mathematical abilities. Betsy Landown, it turned out, could read exceptionally well. Little Matthew Powers couldn’t get farther than ABC. Four others barely knew their alphabet, but the majority of the class had basic, if not strong, reading skills. And true to his surprising nature, Leo Johnson was actually quite good with numbers. It was as if a maze of challenges spread itself before her, an enticing collection of minds, like puzzles to be solved. Lana felt splendidly useful. As if some part of her soul had woken up from a long sleep.
Perhaps the future hadn’t been stolen from her after all.
Chapter Ten
“Leo Johnson can add double numbers, did you know that?” Lana was full to bursting to share with Mack all she’d learned about her class. She’d barely eaten a bite of lunch in her eagerness. When was the last time she’d felt this excited about anything?
“You don’t say?” he replied just a bit wearily, as he got up to fetch the jar of mustard. In her buzz to tell him everything, she’d forgotten to set it out. Well, the mustard and half a dozen other things. She’d left a handkerchief on her “desk,” and she never left handkerchiefs anywhere, ever. She was thankful he hadn’t yet mentioned she’d completely forgotten to make breakfast in her rush to get to the classroom ready.
Lana stopped, squinting her eyes shut. “I told you that already, didn’t I?”
“Twice,” Mack admitted, opening the mustard, “but it is an amazing thing when you think about it. He has a dark temper at times, Lana, so tread carefully. But if you can unlock the puzzle of that mind he’s got, who knows what could happen.”
Lana sat down opposite him, setting a plate of ham bits before Georgie, who was currently pulling at Mack’s hand that held the mustard. “They’re all amazing. Each one of them has strengths and weaknesses. If I can figure out how to fit them all together like a puzzle, they’ll eventually help each other.”
Mack made no reply, save to dab a little mustard on his finger. Before Lana could tell him to stop, Mack indulged Georgie’s curiosity. Her son’s face twisted up in horror at the sharp taste, sticking his tongue out with a wail.
“Really, Mack,” Lana scolded over Georgie’s protestations, ducking up to get the cup of milk she’d forgotten on the sideboard.
“Well, I doubt he’ll ask for it again. Sometimes the best way to solve a pest is to give them what they think they want. Not that Georgie’s a pest, mind you—” he paused and raised an eyebrow at her “—but he has his mother’s persistence.”
His teasing came more and more frequently, and she liked the warmth of the new Mack. She soothed Georgie’s sour face with a bit of apple and leaned on the table with one elbow. “And your morning?”
“The outfitting post is busier than ever. The new General Store ought to be ready soon. We got the shelves up against the west walls, and I had enough time to stop in at the barber’s and the docks to drop a few important hints, but I still have a pile of ledgers to work my way through this afternoon.”
Just the opportunity she was hoping for. “Would you mind going over those ledgers here in the cabin while Georgie naps? I want to go to Viola Goddard’s.” Viola was a new woman in town, a quiet woman who kept to herself despite Lana’s several attempts to make conversation. What excited Lana most was Viola’s profession; it was delightful to have a real seamstress in town. Lana planned to support Viola by giving her all the business she could, plus muster up all kinds of work from the other women in town. Not that she was being judgmental, but Treasure Creek’s collective wardrobe left much to be desired. Viola’s skills were just the ticket, not to mention all the lovely things she could do to make the church and classroom more civilized and comfortable.
“Viola Goddard?” Mack looked suspicious. “Didn’t we just buy clothes?”
Lana drew herself up straight. “As it happens, I’m going to talk to Viola about having curtains made for the schoolhouse.”
Mack glanced around their home, as if measuring her decorating enthusiasm to see how far she would go on behalf of the classroom. “The schoolhouse won’t be done for another month at least.”
There’s a man for you, Lana scowled. Always underestimating how much time good craftsmanship will take. She wanted to select colors carefully, to plan ahead and think things through. Surely Mack could understand that, planner that he was. She could see him weigh the consequences of refusing now, literally watch him decide to humor her decorating plans. Still, she was a bit surprised when he agreed without an argument. But he didn’t let it go without the dangerous question, “Won’t the Tucker sisters tend to that?”
Goodness, where was Mack’s sense, even considering handing such a task to the likes of the Tuckers? Lana couldn’t begin to imagine what those three would dream up, given the task of decorating the schoolhouse. We’d end up with burlap curtains, Lana thought to herself as she snatched Mack’s lunch plate out from underneath him and tended to the dishes.
A whopping yawn from Georgie called Lana to pluck him from his highchair and ready him for a nap. “You sleep good for your mama now,” Mack called, as Georgie waved to him over her shoulder. He’d be out like a light in no time, leaving Mack in peace to work and her a good stretch of time to make plans with Viola.
She walked out into the sunlight, again marveling at the crispness of the summer air. Lana was stopped no less than six times over the short walk to the cabin that served as Viola’s shop and home, each stop by someone needing something from Mack. Or unloading a complaint. Or even downright griping. Lana was quickly learning that being Mrs. Treasure Creek meant one got nowhere fast or alone.
“I’ll be happy to pass that along to Mack, Mr. Burns,” Lana said as she knocked on Viola’s door. “I’m sure he’ll be very interested to hear your views.” As soon as Viola opened the door even an inch, Lana ducked inside and shut it behind her. She sighed as Viola raised an eyebrow. “There seems to be no shortage of opinions in this town.”
Viola gave her an odd look. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Tanner?”
“Lana, please.” She cocked her head in the direction of the street. “I’ve had just about enough of being Mrs. Tanner for the moment.”
“Lana, then. And please call me Viola. Now, how can I help you?” Viola was a lovely woman with striking red hair and soft eyes. She had the look of a woman who’d been through some difficulties, but she never took Lana up on any questions about her life before Treasure Creek. It wasn’t that odd a trait; lots of folks in Treasure Cre
ek were leaving unpleasantness behind them, but the wistful quality behind Viola’s eyes often made Lana wonder just what the woman had left back in… Lana realized Viola had never told anyone where she was from. Her privacy couldn’t be held against her. Keeping to oneself in a place as small and boisterous as Treasure Creek was no small endeavor, she knew that from wanting to crawl from view just after Jed died. It made her sad to sense the same “leave me to myself” attitude in Viola’s minimal talk and defiant eyes.
“Viola, you can help me a great deal. I want you to help me create wonderful things for the schoolhouse. Bright colors, fabrics that will hold up, that sort of thing. I want our schoolhouse to be outfitted with care and quality, and I gather you’re just the woman for the job.”
“I’m so glad,” Viola offered, a smile breaking across her face. “When I heard you were teaching, I dearly hoped you’d be the one to decorate the schoolhouse when it was finished.”
“Really?” She could see in Viola’s eyes what she was going to say next, and it made Lana sure she’d just made a new ally.
“Well, I have to say,” Viola ventured carefully, “I wasn’t at all sure how picking out fabrics with the Tucker sisters would go.”
Lana laughed. “If they picked out any fabrics at all. I suspect, if they had final say, Treasure Creek’s students would be learning surrounded by flannel and denim, if not on bare wood. I want our classroom to be wonderfully decorated, and I want you to take it on. Will you?”
“I’d be delighted. I can go over and take measurements tomorrow if you like.”
Lana reached into her reticule. “I’ve already brought the measurements with me.”
“Well, then,” Viola smiled, “I’ve just made some tea, perhaps we can sit down and go over your ideas together.”
This was just the result Lana was hoping for. “I have so many ideas. And not just about the school.” Lana walked over to the little table Viola had set up in the charmingly decorated kitchen. Like Lana, with not too many resources Viola had done much to make a home. “Believe me, Viola, I have all kinds of ideas for Treasure Creek that I think you’ll find very interesting—and should bring you lots of business, besides.”
Mack tallied up the May store ledgers, but his mind kept wandering to how Lana had looked when she left. She had a smart jacket over her shirtwaist, and a hat pinned to her piles of yellow curls, but he mostly noticed how she wore a lace scarf tied where the brooch used to go. Yes, she’d worn his brooch to church on Sunday, but some prideful part of him took note that, while she’d worn Jed’s pin daily, she did not keep his gift so close. He was ashamed of the reaction, thinking himself petty and spiteful, but even multiple discussions of it with God had failed to squelch the dark response.
Once he was sure enough time had passed for Georgie to be soundly asleep, Mack made his way into her room, to the small pine box where he knew Lana kept her jewelry. He removed both brooches, bringing them to his desk where the map he’d discussed with Lana but not shown her lay unfolded. The map outlined a crude stretch of the Chilkoot Trail and its relation to Treasure Creek. Surrounded by rough approximations of landmarks and several complicated calculations of paces in various directions, lay a bright red “X”, marking Mack’s cache of gold. As such, Mack’s desk now held the most valuable piece of paper in Treasure Creek, maybe even this part of Alaska—but only if the bearer had the key needed to read the map.
As extra protection, the map was intentionally missing a compass key, stating which direction was north in the drawing. Mack had gone to great trouble to draw the map vague enough as to be useless without a key. Now for the final touch: using the two pins, Mack drew a colored key that looked like the pin he’d given Lana, but in reality used the skewed alignments of the colored stones in the now-bent pin Jed had given her. Lana’s new pin looked distinctly like compass points, but only Jed’s pin would render the map useful. It was a brilliant plan. Although it had come to him after he’d had Lana’s pin made, it couldn’t have been more perfect if he’d planned it out in advance.
Smiling at the perfection of it all, Mack leaned back and tested his design one final time. Yes, if he laid Lana’s new pin over the compass key and lined up the colored stones, it clearly looked like one side of the map was north. If he put Jed’s pin over the key and lined up the colors, however, it revealed that north on this map was actually diagonally off to the left. Using the new pin would throw any robber way off-track, sending him counting paces in directions that would never lead him to Mack’s fortune. It was the perfect secret key; she’d never throw the old pin away, but she’d never wear it. If she ever chose to wear his pin more than on Sundays—and some part of him hoped that would be true someday—it would only strengthen the deception.
She’d been hurt that he wouldn’t trust her with the map’s location. Now he could tell her where the map would be hidden on his property and still be protected. She knew half of what she needed, and someday, he’d tell her the whole of it. He’d promised to provide for her and Georgie, after all. But at least now, if something happened to him, he could send word back to her about the pin, and only she would understand. Not a flawless plan, for he hadn’t yet worked out what would happen if he died and couldn’t send word back about the pin key. Well, he simply couldn’t die. It was the best he could do for now.
Mack quietly placed the jewelry box back onto Lana’s bureau beside a still sleeping Georgie. Yes, it was the best he could do for now.
“Six times on my way to Viola Goddard’s!” she declared as she opened the cabin door to find Mack bent over a stack of ledgers with Georgie banging blocks at his feet. “I was stopped six times. And twice as many on my way from her shop. How do you stand it?”
Mack straightened up, folding the ledger closed. “I thought you liked being the center of attention.” It was the closest thing to teasing she’d heard from him yet. She hadn’t really thought Mack Tanner capable of having a twinkle in his eye, but his smiles toward her had definitely warmed.
“Depends on the kind,” she replied, taking off her bonnet and hanging it next to his hat on the pegs by the door. “And, I suppose, the subject matter. What ever did you say, and to whom, to get folks so worked up over this treasure business?”
Mack crossed his hands over his chest, clearly pleased with how his plan had unfolded. “Let’s just say it’s useful to know which ears lead to which mouths.”
“A Russian czar’s gold? Really?”
“No, but the Russians were the first here. They cared more about furs than gold. America bought Alaska from the Russian government. The most effective rumors have to have a grain of truth in them.”
Lana set down the swatches of material she and Viola had settled on on the table. Together they’d chosen summer and winter curtains for the school, as well as some seat cushions for the benches and chairs. Students would learn far better if they weren’t forced to sit on cold, hard chairs when winter came. She loved creating the right environment for learning, weaving all the details together to achieve an outcome. It satisfied some internal appetite she didn’t even know she had. It’d be a while before these ideas came to fruition, before the actual curtains were hung in the actual school, but even talking about ideas for designs gave her an energy she thought she’d lost forever. “Blue and gold,” she said, as she watched Mack’s eyes wander over the half-dozen squares of cloth. “Blue for the sky…”
“And gold for Alaska’s favorite obsession?”
“I prefer to think of it as her most valuable resource.”
Mack laughed. “I’d argue Alaska’s most valuable resource is the sheer spunk of the folks who make it up here.”
Lana sat down. “Spunk? Folks here are relentless. Do I know if there are really only six nuggets? Did I hear one of them was the size of a man’s fist?” She eyed Mack. “Did someone really take apart the pulpit, thinking it was in the base?” The church didn’t even have a real pulpit; Mack had ordered one from Seattle, but he preached from an adapted r
olltop desk until its arrival. Someone speculated the desk drawers had been nailed shut with the gold nuggets inside. Honestly, the stories grew wilder every day.
“No. But someone dug three different holes in the churchyard last night. And Caleb told me someone pulled up the boards on two different docks.”
Georgie left his place at Mack’s feet to climb up on Lana’s lap and pick up two of the swatches. Some days it was such a pleasure to watch him play with even the simplest of things. She hadn’t realized how much the day-to-day struggle for survival had stolen her joy. “Just as long as no one starts digging around here.” Struck by the idea, she asked, “Is that why you started the bit about the Russian czar? So no one would suspect you?”
“I didn’t start the bit about the Russian czar.”
“But you…” The man had secrecy down to an art form.
“I only said it was a valid rumor. I didn’t say I started it.”
Lana let her head fall into one hand. The whole thing seemed one large tangle. “It makes me wonder, Mack Tanner, how you keep the difference between truth and rumor straight in that head of yours. A man who starts to believe his own schemes is on the road to trouble.”
Mack’s eyes darkened over, and Lana realized her remark came out as more of an accusation than she would have liked. Yes, she thought he was playing a dangerous game, but he hadn’t ever proven himself untrustworthy. “I know what I’m doing,” he said seriously. “You can trust me.”
What an odd thing for such an untrusting man to say. “If you want to be trusted, you have to do some trusting yourself.” How had she become so bold with him?
ALASKAN BRIDES 01: Yukon Wedding Page 8