From her hatbox, she withdrew her new, wide-brimmed, white straw hat. It was trimmed with narrow white lace at the edges and a swirl of pastel silk flowers around the crown. A chiffon sash tied in a bow with long tails flowed from the back. She’d brought it along because of its versatility. The decorative details could be removed for everyday wear.
She may not look like a traditional bride, but she would feel special in this gown Mrs. Henderson had so thoughtfully insisted on buying for her. She wished that the dear lady who had mothered her for those few brief weeks after Aunt Mabel died could be here to celebrate her marriage.
That thought brought a sudden cloud over Violet’s happiness. With a sharp pang, she knew Mrs. Henderson was grieving the loss of her granddaughter just as Jenny’s father was. Violet’s heart went out to both of them, and she whispered a prayer for God’s comfort.
Before rejoining John in the hotel lobby, she shook off the sorrow. “Thank you, God, for bringing John into my life. I know in my heart my parents would approve of him.”
Chapter 8
MID-AFTERNOON, VIOLET STOOD WITH John by the track just outside the depot as the White Pass narrow-gauge train pulled into Skagway with a screech of brakes and puffs of steam from its black engine. After a few passengers alit and the yardmen began unloading the freight, the engineer clambered down from the engine. His shoulders drooped, and his head hung down until he spotted John.
He seemed to make an effort to stand tall, but his smile did not reach his sad eyes as he lifted his hand in greeting and headed toward John and Violet.
“George!” John reached out to embrace him. “Brother Paul told us last night about Jenny. I’m so sorry!”
His eyes reddened with unshed tears. He gulped several times before he spoke. When he did, his voice sounded rough, like he had a bad cold. “I can hardly believe it, John. It was bad enough losing my wife. Why did Jenny have to die too?” His shoulders convulsed, and he ducked his head. “I’ve decided to quit the Yukon. It’s beaten me.” His voice was harsh. “If only I’d left sooner, I might still have my wife and daughter.” A guttural sob escaped his lips.
Violet stood slightly behind John, who waited with his head bowed until George regained his composure. Finally, he stepped back beside Violet. “George, this is Violet Channing.”
Violet offered him her hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Henderson.”
George stared blankly at her. Then he sucked in his breath and struck his fist into his other hand. “How could I have forgotten? Miss Channing, I’m so sorry.” He shook her hand. “I’ve had so much on my mind.”
“I understand, sir. I know what it’s like to lose family.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. “Of course, I’ll pay for your return ticket.”
“That’s very kind of you, sir. I was shocked to learn just last night about Jenny, but I plan to stay. I have no home to return to.”
“How about I just give you the money then, and you can use it as you wish?”
“That’s very generous of you, sir, but that’s not necessary.”
John broke in and asked, “Do you have time for a cup of coffee with us, George?”
“I’m certainly not good company right now, but if you can stand me, I’ll join you. Give me a few minutes.”
“That’s perfect. We’ll meet you at the Golden North Hotel restaurant.”
The noontime rush was well past, and it was too early for the evening crowd by the time John and Violet entered the café. John was seating her at their table when George arrived. The men ordered black coffee for themselves and hot tea with sugar for Violet. John suggested a piece of pie, but Violet declined. She was too excited. “After that big breakfast, I’m not hungry, but please, you two feel free to get pie or whatever you’d like.”
“I haven’t had much of an appetite lately,” George said. “Coffee is all I want.”
While Violet sipped her tea, John said, “George, after Brother Paul told us last night about Jenny, Violet and I decided to get married.”
George looked up with pain-filled eyes. “Congratulations to both of you.”
“Thank you, George. That means a lot.” He paused and swallowed uncomfortably. “Um, due to the circumstances, we don’t have time to waste. We’ve asked Brother Paul to perform the ceremony this evening. I wouldn’t impose on you in your time of grief, but you and Brother Paul are my only close friends here.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Would it be too much to ask you to stand up with me?”
George hesitated before he forced a smile. “For you, John, I’ll do it. I wish you both long life and happiness. And I’ll sell you my house cheap if you want to settle in Whitehorse.”
“Are you sure, George?”
“Yeah, I’ve made up my mind. I’m leaving the Territory as soon as the White Pass can find a replacement for me. Too many sad memories here.” George’s voice cracked, and he quickly gulped his coffee. “I’ll head back to Boston to spend time with my mother. Plenty of trains back there. I’m sure I can find a job.”
“Violet and I were just talking about where we’d live. She’ll stay with me on the Yukon Belle for the summer, but we haven’t decided whether to stay in Whitehorse or go south for the winter. A nice house like yours might just tip us toward staying. Right, Violet?”
She had just taken a sip of her tea, but she nodded in response.
“When you get to Whitehorse, come by the house and take a look. Talk it over. If you like it, we’ll work out the details.” George set his empty mug on the table.
“Sounds fair. Thanks.” John said. “Sure you don’t want something to eat?”
“You need to keep up your strength,” Violet added, hoping to coax him into eating.
“You’re right.” George smiled at Violet. “I don’t want to spoil your wedding by passing out! A moose meat sandwich might be just what I need.”
“Good!” John signaled Frieda. “A piece of apple pie for me and a moose meat sandwich for George.”
“What time do you want me at the church for the wedding?” George asked.
They both looked at Violet.
“Brother Paul suggested five o’clock.” She was glad she’d taken a bath and washed her hair before going to bed the night before. All she had to do was change into her dress.
As they returned to eating, George said. “And don’t worry, Miss Channing. I have a change of clothes with me.”
“Oh, I wasn’t worried. It won’t be a formal wedding. And please call me Violet.”
“And call me George.”
When Frieda asked them if they wanted anything more, Violet declined. To John, she added, “Why don’t you stay here with George while he has dessert, and I’ll run upstairs and begin my preparations? You can pick me up here later, John.”
The men stood as she excused herself from the table. She climbed the carpeted stairs, worn threadbare by the feet of many stampeders, to her room.
Shortly before five o’clock, Violet descended the hotel stairs to meet John in the lobby. When he caught sight of her, a radiant smile spread across his face, and he straightened to his full height. Dressed in a dark suit and bow tie, he looked more handsome than ever. As he held out his hand to take hers, her heart quickened to see approval in his lively brown eyes. He made her feel like a queen.
Violet felt herself blushing as heads turned to watch them promenade down the street to the mission where the tiny wedding party assembled in the chapel. As they entered, Brother Paul escorted John to the front to stand next to George Henderson. Dorothy handed Violet a white lace hanky and a small white Bible. Tiny artificial red rosebuds had been stitched into white satin ribbons that cascaded from the Bible just like the streamlets flowing down the mountainsides along the Inside Passage that had so enchanted Violet. How had she known?
Her eyes filled with tears at the obvious care Dorothy had taken to make the ceremony special. As she had dressed for the wedding with no one to fuss over her, Violet missed her mother
and Aunt Mabel as never before. This lady, who was essentially a stranger, helped to fill the void their deaths had left in her heart.
Dorothy seemed to sense just how she felt. “I knew you’d miss your mother at a time like this.” Dorothy hugged her. “A few more weeks and I could have picked wildflowers too.”
“Thank you,” Violet whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
The strains of “Here Comes the Bride” sounded from the pump organ, and Dorothy preceded Violet down the aisle toward a white lattice arch.
The organ played more grandly. Violet stepped slowly toward John, keeping her eyes fixed on his. Her heart swelled with joy. Was this really happening? Or would she wake up to discover it was all a dream?
Soon, John’s hand, warm and strong, clasped her own, anchoring her to reality.
Brother Paul read portions from the Bible about love and marriage before he led them through their exchange of vows. While they knelt for the pastor to pray over them, Dorothy began to sing the hymn, “O Perfect Love”:
O Perfect Love, all human thought transcending,
Lowly we kneel in prayer before Thy throne,
That theirs may be the love which knows no ending,
Whom Thou forevermore dost join in one.
O perfect Life, be Thou their full assurance,
Of tender charity and steadfast faith,
Of patient hope and quiet, brave endurance,
With childlike trust that fears nor pain nor death.
Grant them the joy which brightens earthly sorrow;
Grant them the peace which calms all earthly strife;
And to life’s day the glorious unknown morrow
That dawns upon eternal love and life.
Violet listened intently to the words. Silently, she added her amen and prayed, “Lord, please let us live out our days together.”
After the song, they stood, and Brother Paul said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” It was only their second kiss, and Violet knew she was blushing.
“It gives me great pleasure to introduce to you Mr. and Mrs. John Barston,” announced Brother Paul. The tiny group clapped. While the organist played a joyful tune, everyone congratulated the bride and groom with hugs and kisses.
Afterward, Brother Paul invited the small gathering up to their apartment for a bridal supper—slices of cold moose meat, homemade bread, smoked salmon, baked beans, pickled beets, and a white-frosted layer cake topped with a bride and groom.
When Violet saw the food and the cake, she gasped. “Dorothy, how did you prepare this feast in such a short time?”
Dorothy’s eyes twinkled with pleasure. “Oh, I keep a few things on hand for special occasions. You never know what a day may bring in Alaska.”
After they finished eating, Brother Paul filled out the wedding certificate in duplicate. When he, the witnesses, and the bride and groom had signed it, he gave a copy to John and Violet and placed the other in an envelope to be mailed to the territorial commissioner in Juneau.
By then, it was time for the evening service. With a mischievous grin, Brother Paul whispered to John, “I’ll excuse you if you’d like to spend the evening with your bride.”
“I think I’ll take you up on that offer, Pastor.”
After thanking everyone for their part in making the wedding so memorable, John hugged Brother Paul and pressed money into his hand.
“What’s this?” Brother Paul asked.
“Payment for the ceremony.”
“Not necessary!” the pastor said.
“Treat your wife to dinner then. You both earned it.”
“Okay, okay. Visit us often. You’re always welcome.”
John laughed and waved, took Violet’s arm, and escorted her to the door.
Outside, they found George. John grabbed him in a bear hug. “I can’t thank you enough, buddy. This must have been awfully difficult for you, but I sure do appreciate having you stand up with me.”
“Glad to do it, John. You’re a good friend.”
“If there’s anything we can do for you, just holler. See you on the train in the morning.”
“I’m staying for the service—just wanted to get some fresh air first. And John, congratulations!” He nodded at Violet. “Best wishes to you both. Don’t worry about me.”
A case of nerves attacked Violet as she and John set out for the hotel. This was her wedding night. She’d never been alone with a man. Was John more experienced than she? She didn’t want to disappoint him. How would she know what to do? How she wished for her mother at a time like this so she could ask her advice. But she was on her own.
At the hotel, John obtained the key to their room. He had arranged to have their luggage moved from their two single rooms to the best double room available while they were at the church. He unlocked the door, swung Violet up, and carried her into the beautifully decorated Victorian bedroom and set her on a soft bed with a carved headboard.
Giggling, she asked, “What was that all about?”
“Don’t you know the groom is supposed to carry the bride across the threshold of their new home? Since we don’t have a house yet, I thought I’d do it here.”
He sat down beside her and hugged her close. “Holding you feels so right,” he said huskily, as he kissed her deeply.
Violet moved to the ornately carved mahogany vanity and fumbled with the pins that secured her hat. Her hands trembled so much that she dropped one on the floor.
John picked it up and placed it near her. Dipping his head close to her ear, he murmured, “Don’t worry, sweetheart! I’ve never done this before either. We’ll learn together what it means to be husband and wife.”
Violet felt heat rush to her face as she lifted her chin to meet his smiling eyes in the mirror. He’d understood her nervousness and answered her unasked question.
Reassured, she lifted the hat from her head and rose. Shyly, she slid her arms around his muscled chest. He removed the remaining hairpins that anchored her upswept curls and ran his fingers through the thick tresses. Burying his face in the softness, he wrapped his strong arms around her, making her feel secure and cherished in a way she never had before.
She wanted to stay cocooned in his love forever.
Chapter 9
VIOLET AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING surprised to feel an arm around her until she remembered she was now a married woman. She smiled at the sweet memories of the previous day. Turning toward John, she discovered him propped up on one elbow watching her, an amused twinkle in his eyes.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” He kissed her cheek. “You are so beautiful in the morning.” He threw back the covers. “Time for us sleepyheads to get up. Today, I take you to your new home.”
She hoped she’d like it. They scrambled out of bed. John caught her and kissed her again on the lips. “Have I told you today that I love you?”
“Mmm . . . no . . . but your actions show it.” Violet slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back. “I love you too.” With this man by her side, she’d be happy anywhere.
After they had dressed and packed up their trunks, John pulled out his Bible. “Let’s start our married life right.” He sat on the bed and patted the spot beside him. When she joined him, he read a psalm. He closed the Bible, grasped Violet’s hand, and led in prayer for God’s guidance and safety through the day.
“That was nice,” Violet commented after John said amen. “We should do this every day.”
He leaned over sideways and kissed her nose. “I agree! I’m ready for breakfast. How about you?”
In the hotel restaurant, they enjoyed another round of sourdough pancakes. “I’ve got to learn how to make these,” Violet exclaimed.
“My cook on the Belle makes sourdoughs. Would you like me to ask him to teach you?”
“Oh yes! Maybe he can teach me all of the Yukon recipes. In Boston, I didn’t cook moose meat or salmon. And I want to learn how to make blueberry syrup and jam.”
; John laughed. “You want to fatten me up? Seriously, though, I’m sure Jonesy would be happy to teach you about food preparation Arctic style. And between trips, I’ll take you berry picking.”
They returned to their room to gather their things. Violet was again wearing her traveling suit. When she draped her coat over her arm, John said, “You’d better wear your coat today. It’s probably still cold out this morning, and it’ll be quite chilly in the mountains.”
At the desk, John arranged for their luggage to be transferred to the train, and the two of them walked the short distance to the depot. Violet already had a ticket to Whitehorse, and as an employee, he had a pass. As they approached the narrow-gauge train on tracks only three feet wide from rail to rail, smoke was already puffing skyward, adding a gray smudge to the fluffy, white clouds in the blue sky. The breeze, however, quickly carried away the scent of burning coal.
George Henderson waved from the open window at the rear of the sturdy black engine. A tremor slithered down Violet’s spine.
John tightened his grip around her. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
Her throat tightened with unshed tears. “It seems wrong to be so happy when George is suffering,” she whispered hoarsely. She brushed a droplet from her eye. “I know what it’s like to grieve and to feel lost with no family. I feel bad for him.”
John kissed her cheek. “Bless your tender heart, my love.”
As they joined the short queue of passengers, John remarked, “I see our engine is one of the newer ones specifically designed for the WP&YRR.”
Violet studied the black engine. At the front, a lantern-like headlight protruded above the boiler, followed by a straight chimney from which black smoke puffed out, a brass bell, and two round domes with miscellaneous attachments. Wisps of steam seeped out around a pair of wheels under the front and four more pairs under the boiler. “Why did they need to design one specifically?”
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