He tried not to think about the children. Jacob stared at him with accusing eyes every time he made it back to Dyea, and Leah always fretted over him. The first time he’d gone back to Dyea with his hands all blistered and torn up from the hard labor, Leah had cried and cried. Miss Pierce had dressed his wounds and left him with a new pair of work gloves and an admonition to keep the wounds clean, but even the vibrant young redhead had little comment to make. He didn’t know if she understood his plan or just surmised that he was working through his grief. He felt confident that the children didn’t realize his plan to leave them in Dyea. The idea both comforted and troubled him. How would they react when they learned he was gone? Hadn’t Miss Pierce mentioned Jacob’s involvement in a fight based on his supposed desertion of them?
Even now as he made his way back to Dyea, Bill knew he couldn’t come clean with the truth. If they knew he’d been working to gain money and supplies to see himself north while they waited in Dyea, Bill wasn’t sure he’d be able to leave. He could almost hear Patience’s upbraiding for leaving their children in the care of strangers. She would have given him quite the lecture on his flighty behavior and dreamer mentality. She had before.
He loved and adored the woman who had been his wife, but she had never understood his aspirations, his dreams. He had wanted to give her and the children a good life. He had wanted to give them fine china and sterling silver. He had wanted his wife and daughter to know the feel of satin and silk and his son to stand among the privileged gentlemen of society.
Patience had never cared about any of that—even when he’d managed to obtain it for her for a short time. She had had lovely things and beautiful clothes, but she had been just as content when they moved to a house of less fortune and social grace.
Bill looked up to the fading twilight skies. The feel of winter was in the air—a hard bite that bore into him and urged him to be quick with his plan. The less said the better. He would make like this night was no different from any other.
When the tent store came into view, Bill straightened his shoulders and lengthened his steps. He had no idea what would await him, but he wanted to give every impression of confidence.
‘‘Papa!’’ Leah shouted as Bill approached.
Dressed in a warm woolen coat and mittens and looking years older, Leah discarded the wood she’d been carrying and ran to her father’s arms. ‘‘Are you back to stay? Some of the folks here said we’re due a bad snow.’’
‘‘Well, the work goes on whether there’s snow or not,’’ Bill replied, not willing to give her false hope. He touched her cheek lightly. My, but you look like your mother, he thought, and his heart ached all the more for what he planned to do.
Jacob rounded the corner of the tent, his arms loaded with wood. ‘‘Pa!’’ he said in a rather excited tone. ‘‘When’d you get back?’’
‘‘Just now,’’ Bill replied. ‘‘Looks like you two could use some help.’’
‘‘No, we’ve got it,’’ Leah said, leaving her father’s side to retrieve her own discarded pieces. ‘‘You carry things all day. We’ll carry this and you come inside and rest. How are you hands?’’
‘‘Just fine, princess. I told you once they got used to totin’ and fetchin’ I’d be just fine.’’
‘‘I’m sure glad. Karen said they would heal if you took proper care, but without anyone to help you, I wasn’t sure you’d be able to do it all alone.’’ Her voice was animated and cheerful, and Bill could have sworn she had a skip to her step.
Following his happy children into the tent, Bill tried not to think of how they would feel when they learned the truth. Somehow he would have to make them understand he was doing this for them.
Liar! his own voice echoed in his mind. He looked guiltily at the sale tables and shelves. I’m doing this for me, not them.I’m doing this to escape the memories and the pain—leaving them to ease my own suffering!
‘‘Why, Mr. Barringer,’’ Doris Pierce exclaimed, ‘‘we’d just about given you up for lost.’’
‘‘It’s only been three weeks,’’ he replied. ‘‘I might not have come back this soon had I not come with word of Mr. Pierce.’’
‘‘Father!’’ Karen came into the room just as he mentioned the man’s name. ‘‘What of my father?’’
‘‘Well, he’s stuck in one of the villages. Seems there’s been some kind of epidemic and they’re quarantining the area. Nobody in and nobody out. The Mounties are seeing to it that no one violates this order. They’ve caught a lot of the Indians trying to sneak out, but so far they’ve kept them contained.’’
Karen frowned and her worried expression made Bill uneasy. ‘‘Where did you hear this information?’’ she questioned solemnly.
‘‘Adrik Ivankov.’’
‘‘Is he here in Dyea?’’
Bill shook his head. ‘‘I passed him up around Sheep Camp. He’d talked to your father prior to the epidemic hittin’ the village. This is the first opportunity I’ve had to bring you the news.’’
‘‘Was he all right?’’
Bill shrugged. ‘‘Apparently so. He had plans to settle here in Dyea, in fact was moving out the next day, but the epidemic hit and Adrik figures he probably stayed to help and then got caught there with the quarantine. Now the heavy snows have come up high, and no one knows how bad this has made the trails.’’
‘‘I suppose I shall have to learn better patience,’’ Karen replied with a tone of disappointment.
‘‘This is the place for it,’’ Bill agreed, a hollow tone to his words.
Karen had the feeling that Bill Barringer had something on his mind. All evening he sat silently watching his children. Even after supper, when the dishes had been cleared away and the kids had offered to play rounds of checkers with him, Bill had only given it a halfhearted effort.
Perhaps he was worried. Heaven knew she was worried enough for everyone there. Her father was contained in the middle of an epidemic, and she had no way of knowing if he was safe or in danger.
She tried not to think of her father shivering in the cold of an Alaskan snowstorm. She tried not to think of his dying from measles or whooping cough or whatever the sickness that plagued the village might be. She tried, but unfortunately her imagination ran rampant. Even after the lights had been turned down and they’d settled into their beds for sleep, Karen couldn’t stop thinking. Fear crept over her in a sensation of bleak hopelessness that started somewhere deep in her heart and rippled out in destructive waves throughout her body. Try as she might, Karen could not shake the feeling of desperation that consumed her.
Risking the possibility of waking everyone else, Karen slipped from her bed and put a few more pieces of wood in the stove before slipping into the outer room of the tent. Darkness engulfed her, but it was the eerie silence that frightened her. Even the town seemed strangely silent, which for Dyea was a feat all its own.
Karen moved to the tent flap, thinking perhaps she might just slip outside for a moment. She knew it would be freezing, but grabbing up a wool blanket from the shelf, she decided to risk it anyway. Unfastening only one set of flaps, Karen dodged under the remaining closure and stepped into the icy air.
The cold assaulted her nose and lungs in a way that seemed to temporarily ward off her anxiety. The sky was overcast, muting out the light of the moon. Sighing, Karen stood in silence and wondered what the rest of the world was doing. Back in Chicago, Grace’s parents were probably safe and warm, sleeping in their fine feather beds under warm blankets of goose down. Winters in Chicago could be horribly cold and damp, and no doubt the servants would keep the fires going all night to make certain no member of the family received a chill.
She wondered only momentarily about Martin Paxton. She could only pray that he’d accepted his defeat and moved on to greener pastures. She hated to think of Grace married to someone so hateful and barbaric.
Peter Colton then came to mind, and she knew there was a very good possibility the man would pre
ss his interest in Grace. She wondered if he was right for Grace. He seemed to hold no interest in issues of faith and God. In fact, he seemed downright angry and defiant about anything concerning God. Grace would never allow a man to take her away from her hope in Jesus, of this Karen was certain. No, if Peter Colton wanted Grace for a wife, he’d have to come to salvation first. Then her mind went to Bill Barringer and his children. She thought again of how odd he’d acted all evening. His expression seemed mournful, almost as if he were experiencing the loss of his wife all over again. Perhaps the children reminded him too much of his wife. Leah said she looked like her mother, that everyone had told her so on many occasions. Maybe Bill found it difficult to be around the child without growing morose. But Leah was such a joy. In spite of her mother’s death, she was like a fresh spring bud just waiting to burst to life. She loved to learn, and Karen often found her devouring whatever book she could get her hands on, all for the simple love of knowledge.
Jacob was a bigger worry. He worked all day at various jobs but never seemed satisfied. The wharf business had slowed for a bevy of reasons and with it, Jacob was more often than not sent off in search of another line of employment. He had come home with word that Skagway was actually considering a railroad to the north and that he just might get himself a job laying track if they actually went through with the plans. Karen had thought to condemn the idea but had remained silent. The boy was so clearly troubled and miserable about something. She felt it had to do with his father’s leaving and the resentment he felt at being left behind. He resented, too, that the other boys picked on him for it. Most of the boys his own age were laying aside money and provisions to go north, but Jacob was merely trying to survive.
‘‘Oh, God,’’ she whispered, looking into the murky skies, ‘‘I want to help them, but I don’t know what to do. I want to find Father and help him too, but again, I’m at a loss. I want you to direct my steps, to show me where I might best be used, but am I missing your direction? Have I somehow failed to understand your purpose?’’
Down the street she could see some commotion and hear voices raised in revelry. This seemed a good time to slip back inside the tent. She had barely tied the bottom inside flap, however, when she heard voices from just outside the opening.
‘‘Yeah, it’s just women in here. Women with plenty of cash and goods. We can get what we need and take what we want, if you get my meaning,’’ the man announced. There was laughter between what sounded like two, maybe three men. The sound left Karen trembling in fear. She felt frozen in place even as she saw the canvas around the inside flap begin to move.
21
—[ CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE ]—
MYRTLE HAWKINS pulled her coat tight against the brisk November winds. She had cried enough tears to last her a lifetime, and now she was determined that placing her trust in the Lord and seeking His strength would replace her years of greed and self-concerns.
Staring dry-eyed at her husband’s mausoleum, she felt her heart break again for the pain and misery he had suffered. Poor man. He had tried so hard to keep from hurting her with the truth. If only he would have shared his misery and mistakes.
I would have forgiven you, my darling, even as I forgive you now.
All that mattered was that Grace remain safe. Martin Paxton had already seized most of their wealth and possessions, at least those he knew of. Myrtle was a smart, resourceful woman, however, and as soon as her world had begun to crumble, she had had the foresight to make provision. Even now her faithful butler was off tending to her business. He would meet her one final time at her hotel, bringing with him all the money he had managed to make by selling her jewelry, silver, and other valuable odds and ends. But it wasn’t much, and it certainly wouldn’t last long in Chicago.
She looked again to the mausoleum. She had come to bid Frederick good-bye, even though she knew he was no longer bound by the sorrows of this earth. It seemed fitting, however, to come to his tomb for one last moment before leaving the city they had once loved.
Myrtle planned to live in Wyoming for a time with her cousin Zarah Williams. It was here that Myrtle hoped to bring Grace when the time was right. In Wyoming, Myrtle hoped they could patch together the pieces of their shattered lives and learn to be happy again. She prayed it might be so.
Turning from her husband’s grave, Myrtle made her way back to the hotel. Her knees ached terribly from the cold, but she refused to give up even the small price of a hired carriage. She would be prudent and frugal, a complete contrast to her old self.
I will make this work for Grace’s sake, she told herself. I will put aside the things of this world and the foolishness of my former self, and I will be a true daughter of God. I will put mankind before property and social settings. I will serve the needs of others instead of myself.
She chanted this as a mantra, as she had during the days since learning the truth about her husband and Martin Paxton.
‘‘I don’t think you want to know the truth, Mrs. Hawkins,’’ Paxton had told her quite smugly. ‘‘Truth is not always attractive.’’
‘‘No, but it is always liberating,’’ she had replied.
With a shrug, he seemed indifferent. ‘‘Your husband destroyed my life. He dallied with the heart and soul of a woman who never meant more to him than a diversion. He made promises he couldn’t hope to keep and used her in such a way that no decent man would have her after he’d finished. That woman was my mother, and your husband put her in her grave—just as I intend to see him in his.’’
The news had come as a shock. Myrtle would never have imagined her husband as an unfaithful man. Of course, he was often absent from home, but business took him across the lake on many occasions. Weeks would pass with Frederick working away from home, and Myrtle had always endured them with patience and understanding. Her husband was making them rich. He was giving her all that she had desired and an even higher place in society. How could she fault him for that?
‘‘I know you would probably rather dismiss this as a lie,’’ Paxton had continued, ‘‘but I have letters he gave her, words of love and hope, adoration and commitment. Would you care to see them?’’
Of course she hadn’t wanted to see them. She wanted no visible evidence of her husband’s adultery. Paxton spoke in detail of events in the life of his mother, including the miscarriage of a child—Frederick Hawkins’ child. It was all so awful and complete in detail that Myrtle had no doubt of the truth. Neither did she have to wonder any longer what fueled the rage in Martin Paxton.
Narrowly avoiding an oncoming carriage, Myrtle’s thoughts were instantly thrust into the present. Inside the carriage, she recognized the face of a one-time friend. The woman, however, was not wont to recognize Myrtle and quickly looked away.
That’s how it had been from the first mention of the Hawkinses’ downfall. No one wanted to be associated with a bankrupt man. Proper society would talk about the family in hushed whispers, but they would have no further dealings with them. Not even so much as to acknowledge them when passing on the street.
This is the life I once thought perfect, Myrtle realized. This is what I aspired to become. She felt deeply ashamed for her participation in such a world. What a price it had cost her. Her dear husband was dead. Her daughter was a world away. Her servants and friends were scattered like seeds in the wind, and she no longer had a place to call home.
But in her heart, Myrtle held a peace. God had not forsaken her. The trappings of the world had fallen away, but in their place she could see what was real. She could see beyond the trees—the forest she had created for herself.
‘‘ ‘I see men as trees, walking,’ ’’ Myrtle quoted from Mark chapter eight. She remembered the verses clearly because Jesus then touched the man again. The memorized Scripture poured from her mouth. ‘‘ ‘After that he put his hands again upon his eyes, and made him look up: and he was restored, and saw every man clearly.’ ’’ Myrtle looked heavenward and smiled. ‘‘I am restored in you, O
Lord, and in you I see every man clearly.’’
Martin Paxton joined the captain of Summer Song for dinner. Along with his good friend Ephraim Colton, Martin shared the table with Colton’s wife, Amelia, and their daughter, Miranda.
The brown-haired beauty sat across from him at the small, yet elegantly set table. She smiled warmly, knowing him to be her father’s dear friend, and he easily returned the smile. His attraction to her was something he had not expected; but then, he’d never seen the woman before. She reminded him something of Grace. Her sweetness and nai vete were worn openly as though something to be proud of.
She asked simple questions about a world she’d never seen, and he honored her with patient answers that he would otherwise have never wasted time sharing. Perhaps, he thought, when I truly do take a wife, Miranda Colton would be a pleasing choice. Of course, that would come much later. Later, after he’d dealt with Grace Hawkins.
Grace was now a personal issue. She had thwarted his plans, defied him to his face, and then without any difficulty whatsoever she had managed to slip from his grasp. He didn’t care about Grace Hawkins in any personal way, but the fact that she was an unobtainable part of his previous plans ate at him like a disease. He would find her and he would break her.
‘‘You haven’t told us what brings you to Seattle and now here to join us on the trip north to Skagway,’’ Amelia Colton was saying.
Martin smiled, thinking of the most recent message he’d received. ‘‘In truth, the trip was most unexpected. My fiance e was taken north with the gold rush madness. I’m hopefully going to make contact with her near Skagway.’’
‘‘How delightful!’’ Amelia declared.
‘‘I had no idea you were engaged to be married,’’ Ephraim said, pouring Martin another glass of wine. ‘‘Congratulations. Although it’s a pity.’’
[Yukon Quest 01] - Treasures Of The North Page 20