Ashes and Ice

by Tracie Peterson

  “So you think you might stay?” Adrik dared the question he’d been longing to ask. If he couldn’t convince her to marry him just yet, he had to at least persuade her to stay in the north.

  Karen paused and turned to look down on the lake and tent city. “I believe I could be tempted.” She lifted her face to him and smiled. “It is a lovely country. I can see why my mother and father loved it. Then again, they had a purpose for being here.”

  Adrik sat down on a stump and eyed her quite seriously for a moment. “You could have a purpose, too.”

  Her expression grew quite thoughtful. Her delicate brows arched ever so slightly as her blue eyes bore holes in his heart. He felt his breath catch. He’d already teased her about marriage and about giving her a reason to remain in Alaska. What he needed to know was where her interest pointed. Could she really give up the lively civilization of the larger American cities? Could she spend her life living in the wilderness? Raise a family here?

  Finally she spoke. “I have struggled—wrestled, really—with God.” She looked away from him and this time cast her gaze to the mountains. “I have tried to put my anger aside. I’ve tried to let go of all that has caused me to question God, but I find some things are most difficult to bid farewell.”

  “Such as?”

  She continued to look toward the peaks. “I cannot understand His ways. I try. I really do. I know that faith is required and that in faith comes the ability to trust, even when the way seems unclear.”

  “But?”

  She looked at him now, and Adrik had never thought her more beautiful. Her hair, void of its typical bonnet, glinted gold and red in the summer sun. He longed to reach up and pull loose the ribbon that held her braid. He thought back on the night she’d asked him to brush her hair. He could almost feel himself trembling again. He was grateful she’d not asked that favor of him since, but then again, he almost wished she would.

  “I suppose forgiving Mr. Paxton will have to be a daily event for me,” she said in a most resigned manner. “I don’t feel like forgiving him. However, neither do I desire to grant him more effort or time than is absolutely necessary.”

  “So wouldn’t giving him to God be the wiser choice?” Adrik asked softly.

  He heard her sigh, and he longed to hold her in his arms. Instead, he remained seated, hoping she would continue to open up to him.

  Changing the subject, Karen returned her gaze to the lake below them. “So many people will pass through here. They’ll come and go, and I can’t help but wonder if many will stay.”

  “Will you?”

  She said nothing for what seemed an eternity. Adrik could hardly bear it and stood to suggest they continue their exploration. But when he got to his feet, she turned, and he saw the tears that were running down her cheeks. What had he said to cause this? His expression must have betrayed him, for she smiled and wiped at her eyes.

  “You might think me very silly,” she said in a barely audible voice, “but I feel that I belong here. I feel I must stay, but I have no idea of how to do that or where to go. I can’t even tell you what I would do once I figured those other things out.”

  He reached out to put his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t think it’s silly at all. I think God has a purpose in your being here. Selfishly, I want you to stay, but you know that. I think you understand a great deal more about it than you’ve been willing to let yourself see. You’re a fine woman and a good teacher. I’ve seen you teach Leah, and you have a gift. Why not put that to good use up here?”

  “With the stampeders’ children? With the natives?” she asked.

  “Why not? Either one would be a fine choice. Just look at the children here in Lindeman. There are a lot more running around than I would have ever believed. There are only going to be more in the years to come. Then with the natives . . . well, trust takes time.”

  “Would they ever accept me? I mean, just because they accepted my father doesn’t mean they would like me, as well.”

  Adrik grinned and inside, his heart soared. He would find a way to convince her. “They’d like you well enough. I’d see to that.”

  Karen looked intently into eyes, then suddenly pulled away. “I’m heading back to camp. I need to check on Grace and Leah.”

  Stunned, he watched her go, not at all sure what had just taken place. Women were queer creatures, with strange ideas and ways about them. How could he ever hope for her to understand that he loved her more than life, when she wouldn’t stand still long enough for him to tell her?

  ————

  Working for the railroad proved to be a form of salvation for Peter Colton. With Skagway’s city fathers seeing the benefit of such transportation, it wasn’t long before they found the money and men to back up their dream, and Peter now played a part in it. In some ways, Peter Colton found his job with the railroad to be less taxing than his duties had been aboard Merry Maid. Here he was in charge of no one but himself. And in some ways not even that, for he took his orders just like the others.

  He worked six days a week, helping to blast out a road from the rock and gravel. The railroad was rapidly taking shape, in spite of the difficulties. So many people were certain the plan would fail, that no one could put a railroad in the midst of such a chaotic land—but they were succeeding.

  The railroad company had a bigger problem than the land, however. Keeping workers on the lines was taxing the patience of even the most saintly supervisors. The company paid the workers high wages to keep them from running off pre- maturely to the goldfields, and still they suffered losses. Peter had no illusions of gold, except for getting together enough to buy back his father’s company—his company. Of course, there was still the matter of his wife to deal with. He did his best not to think of her sitting in Skagway alone and frightened.

  “So you heading down to Skagway?”

  Peter looked up to find Jonas Campbell studying him with an intent look on his face. “I was thinking about it.”

  The man nodded and pulled a pipe from his pocket. “Do you suppose you could bring me back some tobacco? I’m packing my last bowl.”

  Jonas had been a good friend to Peter. At least a dozen years his senior, Jonas had taken on a brotherly role when Peter had come to work for the railroad, anger and sorrow his companions. Without Peter even realizing what was happening, Jonas had managed to befriend him.

  “I’ll be glad to get it for you,” Peter said, washing his face with cold water from a bucket. He took the scarf from around his neck and dried his face, then rinsed the scarf out, as well.

  “Will you be visiting your little family?” Jonas asked, appearing not the least bit concerned about intruding on Peter’s privacy.

  “I suppose it’s time,” Peter replied rather sheepishly. “But to tell the truth, I don’t even know if they’ll still be there. I left without word, and it’s been months. They may well have gone south, back to San Francisco.”

  “They might have at that, but weren’t you just telling me last night that you had no notion of your wife doing that—that she’d probably stay behind?”

  Peter tied the wet scarf back around his neck. “I just don’t know.” And that was the truth of it. Disgusted by the way he’d treated Grace and his family, he had no way of knowing how they might have responded to his actions. Surely there was a breaking point for everyone, and with the way he’d behaved, Peter feared he’d reached that point with each one of them.

  “Don’t give up hope,” Jonas said softly.

  Peter looked at the man for a moment, a question on his heart that begged to be asked. “Jonas, you’ve been a good friend to me these last few weeks. You’ve fed me when I was without food. You’ve talked to me when I didn’t have another friend in the world. You’ve gotten me to talk, as well—to share things with you that I wouldn’t have shared with another human soul, much less a stranger.”

  The older man nodded thoughtfully and dragged slowly on the pipe. Peter could read a quiet contentment in t
he man’s brown eyes. He always seemed at peace. Jonas often spoke of longing for the company of his wife and son who’d stayed behind in Kansas. He’d not seen them in over six months, and yet he remained in good spirits.

  “I envy the peace you have,” Peter said, turning his gaze to the ground. “I know that I have to find a way to make things right. I have to know that peace.”

  “Friend, I know you’re weary. I know that even though we’ve shared a meal and some passing conversation, you’ve kept yourself closed off from the rest of the world. But I know that your wife deserves to see you and to hear you ask for forgiveness.”

  “There’s that word again,” Peter said, looking up with a smile. “I used to hate that word. I thought it was nothing more than a sign of weakness.”

  Jonas guffawed loudly, causing several of their retiring coworkers to look their way. Jonas paid no attention to the others, however. He pulled out his pipe with one hand and slapped Peter on the back with the other. “Ain’t a man alive who is strong enough to deal out forgiveness on his own. Takes a higher power than what’s here on earth.”

  “I’m beginning to see that, but I’m not entirely sure I understand it. Grace believes in it—she believes in God and that God desires a relationship with each of us.”

  “And that bothers you a mite, doesn’t it?”

  Peter looked at Jonas and raised a brow. “It bothers me more than a mite.”

  Jonas nodded and said, “Well, at least you’re being honest, which is more than I can say for you a month ago. Go to town. Go see your wife and have yourself a talk. Nothing says you can’t come back here after it’s done. If she’s not there, then you take the next step.”

  Peter could feel all the longing and desire for Grace’s company rise up in him as he asked, “Which is?”

  “You go find her.”

  ————

  Making his way into Skagway from up the rail line, Peter thought of Jonas’s words and of the need to forgive. He knew Jonas was a godly man, but he was different somehow from the pious preachers and churchgoers of his home port. Jonas had never once tried to beat Peter over the head with his faith. Instead, he’d offered friendship and kindness, a listening ear, and occasional advice. And in that advice Peter heard the same truths that had come from Grace.

  Just thinking about his wife tore Peter up inside. Was this what it was to be broken in spirit? And, if not this devastating void in his heart, then what? He felt as though he had irreparably damaged his wife, and even though Grace had always offered him forgiveness, how could he possibly expect such a gift now?

  Still, what would she say when he suddenly appeared after so many months of separation? She might not ever want to see him again. She might have even . . . No, he wouldn’t let himself think that she had sought out Martin Paxton for help.

  Martin Paxton and the harm he’d caused was the reason for all of this. Peter had been so humiliated by the situation and his wife’s obvious mistrust that he’d taken himself away from the town and family he loved. Now, months later, he could only hope they were still in port and that they might speak to him and listen to what he had to say.

  He had enough money to take them all home to San Francisco. He knew Paxton had offered them passage, and even if his parents and Miranda had gone, surely Grace would have remained behind in hopes of his return.

  But I gave her no reason to believe that I might return, Peter thought solemnly.

  With determined steps, Peter walked with a single purpose. He would go back to the Hotel Alaska, and if Grace should be there, he would beg her forgiveness and offer her his plan. If his family were there, so much the better.

  ————

  But the proprietor of the hotel hadn’t seen Grace or Peter’s family in months. He had no idea of their whereabouts, leaving Peter quite troubled. Stepping out onto the busy street, Peter scanned the crowd for some sign of a familiar face. There was no one. He thought for a moment about telephoning Karen in Dyea. A new line had been put between the two sister towns, but Peter had no idea of where he might find Karen. What was the name of that hotel she was staying at? He wracked his memory but could recall nothing.

  In complete exasperation, Peter sighed and shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets. He contemplated the people who crowded Broadway Street. There wasn’t a friendly face among them. They were intent on their dreams of gold—of fame and fortune. Perhaps he should just give up and go back to camp. Perhaps this had been nothing but a hopeless cause.

  For a moment he did nothing but watch the people. Freshfaced boys mingled with grizzled old-timers, and all of them appeared to be carrying the weight of the world—or at least their homes—upon their backs. Dogs barked and strained against their owners’ control, while horses laden with packs whinnied nervously when strangers drew too close. They all seemed drawn to the same purpose—gold. Picks and shovels, pans and sledges peeked out from packs along with tents and food supplies. This gathering of strangers knew what they wanted out of life. Would that Peter could say the same.

  Then, against his will, Peter knew what he had to do.

  Without thought, he pivoted and headed down the street to the one place he had never intended to go again. Paxton’s store. If Paxton was still in town, then he would most likely know where the Coltons had gone. If not the whole family, Paxton would certainly know what had become of Grace.

  Martin Paxton seemed almost to be expecting Peter when one of his thugs ushered him through the door. He smiled and casually took his seat behind a rather regal mahogany desk. It was new—something perhaps brought aboard Merry Maid or Summer Song while under Paxton’s jurisdiction? Peter tried to quell such thoughts. They only served to stir his anger.

  “I must say this is quite a surprise. I figured you went south with your family.”

  “I’m here to find out about my family,” Peter replied. “Where are they? Where is Grace?”

  Paxton shook his head. “What? No time for formalities? No groveling for the answers you seek from me?”

  Peter’s temper threatened rational thought, but still he remained calm. “Where have they gone?”

  “Home, I would imagine,” Paxton replied. “I gave your father and mother passage to leave and they went.”

  “And my sister?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “And Grace?”

  “Your wife is still here in Alaska.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Paxton’s expression grew smug, further irritating Peter. He was toying with him, playing him like a poorly tuned instrument. “How do you suppose I know? Grace did not leave with your family.”

  “Then she is still in Skagway?” Peter questioned. “If that is the case, I wish to see her.”

  “Well, she doesn’t wish to see you,” Paxton replied, getting to his feet. “You left your wife, Mr. Colton. You tossed her aside and I picked her back up. Ironic, given that she was always mine to begin with.”

  Peter took a step forward, then stopped. He gripped the back of a leather chair in order to keep from plowing his fist into Paxton’s face. “Where is she?” he growled between clenched teeth.

  “I am not at liberty to tell you,” Paxton said, coming around from behind his desk. Peter was certain the action was to show him he felt Peter was no threat to his well-being. “She doesn’t wish for you to know. She is deeply wounded. She has agreed to end this farce of a marriage.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Peter replied, torn by a wave of emotions that threatened to destroy his composure. She wanted to be rid of him. She had put aside her fear of Paxton’s abusive nature and had sought him out for help. How could that be? How could it be that she saw Peter as a worse threat than Paxton?

  “You must believe me,” Martin Paxton said, crossing his arms. He leaned back against his desk and looked for all the world as though he’d given information no more important than his shoe size.

  “You see, Mr. Colton, your wife is perhaps wiser than you give
her credit for being. She listened to me, and now she is ready to settle this matter. My advice to you is that you return to San Francisco and divorce your wife. Make it easy on all parties concerned. I will pay for your transportation, and I will even accommodate you in seeking legal counsel. Once you have accomplished this and the decree is finalized, I will return Colton Shipping to you.”

  “What?” Peter could hardly believe the man was suggesting such things. Worse still, he could scarcely imagine that the man was serious. Colton Shipping was worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.

  “You heard me correctly. I will not only return your ships, I will sign over any further interest. I will consider our transaction, my loan to your father and all the investments, to be completed. Paid in full.”

  Peter shook his head. “A divorce would not be possible.”

  “Oh, but I think you might reconsider. You see, Grace told me all about your fight. How you wished that you’d never married her—how you never intended to return to her.”

  “That’s not true!” Peter declared. “I was angry and I said . . .” His voice trailed away. He had said things he didn’t mean. He had spoken out of anger and driven away the only person who really mattered to him.

  “I know what you said. She told me everything.” He looked at Peter with a pitying glance. “I could have warned you that she wasn’t for you. She is spoiled and willful. It was the reason her father thought best to agree to my plan. You see, in spite of my desire for revenge, Mr. Hawkins found his daughter’s behavior to be a social disgrace.”

  “You lie, sir! You forced yourself upon that family for purposes of your own. Grace told me how you savagely attacked her.”

  “Much as you did, only with words. We are not so very different, Mr. Colton.” His words hit like a blow to Peter’s stomach. The truth of his statement was more than Peter could stand.

  “Now, what of my deal? Will you return to California and do as I have asked? Better still, we could both make the journey. I could help you to find proper counsel, and you and your father could join me in arranging the transfer of the business.”