by Alison Hart
“Careful with that trunk, darling.” Mama picked up a bag in each hand. “My typewriter is packed in there. It will be our livelihood.”
Most of the crowd had moved away, headed toward the barges filled with supplies. Sally sat on top of the trunk and dabbed at her face with her pinafore.
This was my chance.
I crawled from behind the barrel, wagging my tail. Once it had been full and silky. Now it was dirty and thin. As I crept toward her, I lifted my lip in a grin, hoping she would see the dog I used to be.
Sally’s mouth dropped open and her eyes filled with wonder. She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around me. “Oh! You are the most handsome animal I have ever seen!”
“Sally!” Mama’s voice was harsh, and I cringed. “What are you doing? That creature is huge, and look, he is snarling! Get away from him before he bites you.”
“He is not snarling,” Sally scoffed. “That is a smile. He is welcoming us to Nome.”
“He is dirty. He must be a stray.”
“No. He has a name.” Her fingers found my collar. “Look, his brass tag says Murphy.”
“Then he has a home to go to. Leave him be. We have enough to worry about. We must find a hotel to stay in before night falls.”
“It won’t be dark until midnight.” Sally ran her fingers gently down my spine. “And he does not have a home. He’s skin and bones, and there are scars under his fur. He needs a washing and brushing, and a good meal.”
“You and I need a washing and brushing and a good meal.” Mama pushed a stray hair under her hat.
Two men approached. Their smiles were pleasant, but I felt the threat of danger that hung around them. There were few women in Nome and even fewer girls. What did these men want with Mama and Sally? My hackles rose.
“Ma’am.” One tipped a dirty hat. “We’ll help you with your luggage.”
“Thank you, but no,” Mama’s voice was gracious, but she sounded anxious.
The larger one stepped closer. “I wasn’t asking for your permission.”
Sally grabbed my collar. “And she wasn’t asking for your assistance. Now leave us be or I will command my dog to attack.”
I growled, hoping to sound brave. Could they sense I was not?
The men glanced at me, then at Sally. For someone so little, her courage was so big.
“Next time, perhaps, ma’am,” one said. They disappeared into the throng of people and freight.
Sally blew out her breath. “See? Murphy has already proved that he’s our protector.” She enveloped me in another hug. “Nome may be our salvation, but it will also be dangerous. We need him, Mama, as much as he needs us.”
“I think you’re right, my brave but foolish daughter. Thank you for welcoming us to Nome, Murphy.” Mama patted me then and I could feel the exhaustion in her touch. “We have meager supplies and no firm plans for where to stay for the night, but if you would like, you are invited to join our small family.”
Family. I gave Sally a slobbery kiss, then nuzzled Mama’s hand. Stooping, she gave me a hard hug and I saw tears glimmering in her eyes.
CHAPTER FOUR
Beaches of Gold
June 28, 1900
This rope goes here.” Sally hammered a wooden stake into the sand.
The tent was halfway up and it flapped in the chilly wind. I tried to help by holding the stakes in my mouth until she and Mama needed them.
Sally and Mama had stayed at a boarding house run by a family called Owen for many days while they found their bearings in Nome and the right place to pitch their tent. No dogs were allowed inside the boarding house, so I slept in the livery with two skinny horses. Sally visited me every day, but the barn was not a home. I was excited when they chose a spot on the beach and moved out of the boarding house.
Crouching, Sally studied the ground. “Look Mama, there is gold in the sand, just like Mr. Owens said.” Letting some slip through her fingers, she picked out several small flakes.
“We’re not here for the gold,” Mama said. “We’ll make a living off the prospectors and shopkeepers. They will need advertising, contracts, and wills.” Poking her head around the side of the tent, she added, “And letters home.”
“But if we find gold, you won’t have to work in an office.” Sally dug again in the sand. “We can stake our own claim and find enough nuggets to buy a house for the winter.”
“That is if we stay.” Mama bent over to pound a stake. “You’ve heard your grandfather’s stories about Nome winters.”
I barked for them to hurry. Summer nights were cold in Alaska; we needed to finish getting the tent up. When the sun finally fell, so would the temperature. Sudden storms sometimes blew in from the sea without warning, and shelter was important. Prickles of fear filled me as the sun dropped lower in the sky—and not just because of the weather.
Nome was a reckless town. Two ladies on the beach attracted a lot of attention, and many men had come by to introduce themselves this afternoon. All had been gentlemen, but that would not always be true. Darkness brought out the worst in men. I needed to stay vigilant. And the tent needed to be up for some protection. I woofed again.
“Yes, we will hurry, Murphy.” Sally checked the tent peg and rope. “We will all need a bath before turning in for the night. You smell like rotten fish and horse droppings, and I smell like cigar smoke and sauerkraut.”
“I doubt the ladies of San Francisco would invite us to tea,” Mama murmured.
Sally laughed. I jumped up to lick her cheek, my paws leaving black streaks on her pinafore. “Oh, Murphy, the ladies would definitely not invite us now,” she said as she tried to brush off the dirt.
When the last stake was in and the tent secure, Sally, Mama, and I eyed it with pride.
“This is our new home,” Sally said softly.
Home. The word sounded wonderful. As wonderful as bacon.
“For now,” Mama said. “Let’s hope we can save enough for a cabin. Though with a can of peaches costing five dollars, we may spend all our money on food. Come. Let’s gather fresh clothes and find a bathhouse. Mrs. Owens said the best one for ladies was in the Dexter Hotel.”
Sally grabbed the end of the trunk and began to drag it inside the tent. When I tried to follow her, she shooed me away. “After your bath, Murphy.”
There was that word again, bath. I had never heard it before.
“When you are clean, you can come in and help us organize our new home.” She dropped the canvas flap.
I stared forlornly at the closed flap, my ears pricked so I could catch their voices. I didn’t want to be away from them for an instant.
“Our money needs to be safe, Mama,” Sally said. “We must have it with us at all times.”
“It has stayed safe in the pocket I sewed in my bloomers.”
“I should carry some as well. In case you are robbed.”
“No gentleman would attempt to tear my bloomers!” Mama gasped.
“These are not all gentlemen.”
Mama sighed. “You are correct, Sally. We were warned—there are no laws in Nome.”
“Yes. Grandmama warned us of that at least ten times a day.” Sally giggled.
“Perhaps we should have heeded her advice.”
“Which has been as constant as the rising sun and as stern as a preacher’s sermons—for the past twelve years of my life.”
“You are only eleven, child.”
“I know.” They both broke into laughter. I did not know what made them so giddy, but the sound made me bark.
Sally threw open the flap. “Murphy says he is ready for his bath.”
“I do not believe the hotel will allow a dog in its washtub.” Mama followed Sally out of the tent, carrying a satchel. “Especially not one as huge and filthy as Murphy.”
“Then we will ask someone where the workers bathe. It will save us money as well.”
Mama stopped. “Oh, Sally, are we lowering ourselves to the status of scullery maids already
?”
“We must be practical, Mama, if we are to thrive in Nome—and escape Grandmama’s grip.” She shuddered and I pressed my nose into her palm. She stroked my head. “Perhaps we will make our fortune with your typewriter. Perhaps we will find gold. I don’t care how we survive, but we will. Because I will never go back to San Francisco and Grandmama’s house. Never.”
I did not understand Sally’s words. But I heard the determination in her voice. That same determination had helped me escape from Carlick. Tipping back my head, I bayed like a hound to let Sally know that I understood.
CHAPTER FIVE
Another Narrow Escape
June 28, 1900
Nome’s beaches may be paved with gold, but Front Street is certainly not,” Mama observed.
The three of us made our way down the wooden walkway. I strutted in between Sally and Mama, my fur fluffy and shiny, my spots glowing white. Now I knew what a bath was—it meant warm water and sweet soap. Sally and Mama were fresh and clean too.
Sally had taken off my collar, which had grown so small it dug into my neck. I was glad when she didn’t put it back on. Instead she tucked it into Mama’s satchel and tied a red scarf around my neck.
“I would say Front Street is paved in rascals,” Sally said. She held a parasol open to block the light snow that drifted from the darkening sky. “I have counted four drunks, three pickpockets, and two hucksters, and the sun has not yet set.”
Mama arched one brow. “And how do you know what a huckster looks like, young lady?”
“Grandpapa taught me to watch out for bears, moose, and hucksters.” Sally gave Mama a sly look. “There were many in the Klondike when he was there. I have also counted at least fifty interested suitors and heard a hundred whistles. You are the prettiest lady in Nome.”
“I appear to be the only lady in Nome,” Mama said. “At least at this time of night.”
“Murphy will have to be our guardian in this ‘godforsaken town,’ as Grandmama called it.” Sally dug her fingers into the ruff of fur around my neck. I strutted, trying to look worthy.
“Nome does have some respectable stores among the saloons and dance halls,” Mama observed, stopping in front of the bakery. My nose twitched happily.
Sally gasped. “Fresh-baked bread! Can you work here, Mama?”
“Perhaps.” Tipping her head back, she read the sign. “California Bakery… We must make note of all the shops and businesses where I can apply for employment. The bakery or the lumberyard might need inventory and accounts typed. Mrs. Owens suggested that Fox & Gibson might need claims and deeds recorded.”
“Look! There’s a circulating library!” Sally hurried up the walkway. The building was closed for the night, but she pressed her nose against the glass. “Perhaps they might let me borrow books in return for shelving them.”
“Hey, lady!” Someone grabbed Mama’s shoulder and rudely spun her around. “Where’d you get that dog?” A bearded man wearing a tattered bowler hat pointed at me.
I scooted away from him and hid behind Sally.
“Pardon me!” Mama yanked her arm from the man’s grasp. “Do I know you, sir, for you to act so familiar?”
“No, ma’am. But I think I know that dog. He belongs to Carlick.”
I recognized the man by his voice—and his smell. He’d held out the sausage link to me, trying to catch me for Carlick.
“There’s a reward of fifteen dollars and I aim to claim it.” The man lunged for me, but I ducked farther behind Sally. Mama may have been speechless, but Sally was not.
“Get your hands off my dog!” she snapped, swatting him with her parasol.
With a yelp, he drew back. “That is not your dog,” he sputtered. “Belongs to Carlick.”
“What proof do you have?” Sally demanded, the parasol still raised like a club.
“Proof?” The man suddenly looked unsure of himself. “Look, my name’s Beckett. I don’t mean no harm, but I believe that dog is Carlick’s. We tried to catch him a while ago but he got away.”
“That’s not proof,” Sally scoffed. “What is his name? What breed?”
“Uhhhh…” Beckett’s face turned red under the barrage of questions. He shifted his eyes to the crowd that was forming around us. I stayed low behind Sally’s skirts.
“Do you and your daughter need help, ma’am?” a man in a dapper suit asked.
“Thank you, sir,” Mama murmured. “I believe my daughter and I can handle this unfortunate incident.”
My heart hammered. Would Carlick’s people take me away from my new family?
But most of the men seemed to only have eyes for Mama, who drew herself upright. “Mr. Beckett, does Carlick’s dog have identification?” she asked.
“Well…um…” He shuffled his feet uneasily. “Carlick’s dog is big like this one, and Carlick said his dog has a collar with the name Murphy on it.”
Sally didn’t hesitate. “Our dog wears a silk scarf, not a collar.”
Flushing, the man began to back away. “Yes, ma’am. I do see this dog has spots, and Carlick’s dog is brown, so I apologize.” Tipping his greasy hat, he quickly retreated. A few chuckles rang out from the group, and several people clapped.
Mama nodded our thanks, and then took Sally’s hand. “Grab Murphy,” she whispered, and together we rushed down the walkway toward the beach.
When we were safely away from Front Street, Sally let go of my scarf and Mama let go of Sally’s hand. “I am embarrassed that we had to resort to such dishonesty,” she declared. “And oh, such disrespectful behavior from you, young lady.”
“Grandmama would surely have whipped me for my words,” Sally admitted. “But Mr. Beckett was no gentleman.”
Mama lowered her voice. “We shall speak of Mr. Beckett’s accusation once we get in the tent.”
We hurried across the sand, weaving around campfires, prospectors, and supplies.
Only when we were inside our own tent with the flap firmly tied shut did Mama blow out a relieved breath. She dropped her satchel and lighted a lantern.
Sally plopped down on her cot and pulled me close against her knee. Panting, I glanced around, liking the cozy area. A flowered rug was on the floor. Circling, I laid down on it, wondering if Sally and Mama would let me stay, now that I was clean.
“So, according to Mr. Beckett we are in possession of a dog that belongs to someone named Carlick,” Mama said as she removed her coat.
Carlick. I could not escape that name.
“No,” Sally said stubbornly. “Carlick’s dog wears a collar.”
Mama pulled the collar from her satchel and held it up. “You mean like this one?”
Sally refused to look at it. “And the man said Carlick’s dog wasn’t spotted.”
“You mean Carlick’s dog was dirty brown, the color of Murphy before he was bathed?”
Sally flushed, but her eyes stayed stubborn. “Murphy belongs with us. If he loved this Carlick person, he would not have been living like a stray on the beach, all skinny and scarred.”
“I agree. All God’s creatures should be treated with dignity.” Mama dropped the collar in Sally’s lap. “But what are we to do about Carlick? He has even offered a reward.”
“We’ll just have to keep Murphy in the tent night and day,” Sally said. “Until the men get tired of looking for him.”
“That’s not a realistic plan,” Mama said. “Murphy would not like being penned up, and we need him to be your guardian while I work.”
“It appears that he needs us to be his guardian as well.” Sally held tightly to the scarf around my neck.
“I’ve got an idea.” Smiling slyly, Mama lifted the lid of her trunk. Reaching inside, she pulled out a strange machine and set it on a small folding stool.
Sally’s eyes widened. “What are you going to type, Mama?”
“Murphy needs a San Francisco dog license, I believe, with the name Sally Ann Dawson as owner. As well as a ticket of passage that states he boarded the Tacoma b
ound for Nome on June 1, 1900, in the company of his owner.”
Squealing with joy, Sally jumped up and flung her arms around her mother. “Oh, Mama, I think you are the greatest huckster in all of Nome!” Picking up the collar, she added, “Murphy and I have a job to do too. Come, boy.”
She untied the tent flap, and together we raced down to the water’s edge. There she flung the collar as far out to sea as she could. Then she held my head in both hands and looked me in the eye.
“You are no longer Carlick’s dog,” she said solemnly. “You are still Murphy, but now you belong to us.”
For a second, the collar floated on top of the surf, and then it disappeared. Pulling away from Sally, I bounded into the waves. I did not completely understand what had happened, but somehow I knew that I was free of Carlick, and it made me bark with joy.
CHAPTER SIX
Prospecting
August 3, 1900
Murphy, listen to the letter I wrote to Grandpapa,” Sally said.
We sat on a rock that jutted into the rushing sea. Sally’s bonnet flapped in the wind. A picnic of beef and dried apples was in an open basket on the sand by her feet.
I glanced at Sally when she spoke, but then my gaze returned to the Nome beach. I needed to watch for strange men, as well as for seagulls that might dare to steal our breakfast.
Dear Grandpapa and Grandmama,
Mama and I have a lovely seaside home with ocean views. We also have a strong friend named Murphy who is keeping us safe. He and I explore Nome every day. We talk to the miners—those who are successful as well as those who have gone bust. They all say that black sand is where you can find gold. I am learning all about mining so one day I can file my own claim.
Sally looked up from her letter. “Are you listening, Murphy? Or watching seagulls?”
I gave her a slurpy kiss.
“I need your advice. Should I add news about the swarms of mosquitoes and the thieving ne’er-do-wells? Grandpapa would be interested. But I worry that Grandmama will send an army to retrieve us.”