He tripped against a rock, but he kept moving. The goal for the moment was to reach the cache and unburden himself of this load.
Awhile later with the goods stashed, he and his partners headed back down the trail, sliding and sometimes almost running when the trail smoothed out. They would only pack one load this day.
Gabe shivered as he all but hugged his camp stove. The snowstorm raged for a second day, blinding and confining them. They could only cut wood and sit in the tents.
His companions became irritable when no progress up trail could be made. They griped at each other and argued over the fall of their card hands. Gabe stayed away from the games. He’d had little card experience; besides, he could hardly sit still long enough for one round.
Twice before when they had encountered downpours that made the uphill climb treacherous, Gabe had gone back down the trail into Dyea on errands for mail, newspapers, and supplies. He didn’t stop in Monroe’s store, but he found ways to learn that his family fared well—and that Charlotte still lived at the back of the store…unmarried.
He craved diversion. The nearly six weeks of twice-a-day trips up and down the trail kept him too busy and too tired to think. They each packed fifty- to one hundred-pound loads on their backs and could transport even more if a sled could be used. The trail wound sharply around boulders, and often ice hung down from ledges above, requiring one to duck under it. More often strong headwinds barreled through the Dyea River Valley, drifting snow over the trail.
They would pack their outfit sometimes only a mile up trail, then they would move their camp to the new cache and start packing again. Stacks of supplies lined the trail, and even without sufficient law enforcement, everyone knew that to steal from someone else’s cache meant to risk death.
Gabe stretched out on top of his sleeping bag, which lay on top of a row of crates and sacks of supplies. He estimated it to be nearly noon, yet the sun barely reached him through the snow and trees.
Gabe dug through his clothing bag and found a small Bible. Though not often read, it had been with him since childhood. He would read a psalm. He opened to the Twenty-Second Psalm and heard David cry out to God in his agony. Pursued and scorned by enemies, David always seemed plagued by trouble. Even animals circled him, tearing at him. No strength was left in him, and he pleaded to be saved.
Closing the book after skimming the end of the psalm, Gabe wondered about the things that followed him. He felt pressured, shadowed, hunted by unseen aggressors.
Oh God… He knew that only God would listen to him, befriend him. His trail partners didn’t know the real Gabe Monroe. He only let them see the surface. No one made an effort to dig deeper. He was a fair and hardworking partner, which satisfied them.
He stared at the Bible, trying to shake off the weight on his soul. What did he fear?
He couldn’t seem to keep thoughts of Charlotte away. Her brown hair, blue eyes, and comely figure were admirable; but he especially appreciated her quiet grace and strong faith. He could never be worthy of such a woman. His brother was much more settled as a respected businessman and father. Eventually Philip would see it too.
Did he fear that Philip wouldn’t get around to marrying her? Could he be worrying about Charlotte’s security? Or…was she more dangerous to Gabe if she remained unattached?
He stood up, shivering. The shaking hurt his muscles, and he couldn’t control it. He moved around the small space, flapping his arms and stamping his feet to generate warmth.
But the motion couldn’t drive away his nagging fears. Okay, Lord, what if my plans fall apart? What if none of the things I’ve been reaching for mean anything?
But I have to repay what my father took from Aileen’s family.
Though it is not my debt.
Who am I trying to impress? Who is left?
Would giving up the gold hunt be more painful than this present agony?
But what is my purpose, and what is there to go back to?
Charlotte.
Gabe shook his head as he leaned over the stove.
But I don’t know that she cares for me. She should despise me for taking her to this country where she can be the target of gossip and improper advances from some of the men because she doesn’t have the protection of being a married woman.
He picked up the Bible again. He desired to read about a godly woman. He considered the stories of Mary, Ruth, and Esther, then decided on Ruth. She lived in a foreign country and relied on God to provide her needs. God did so through a man named Boaz.
Philip was Charlotte’s Boaz, wasn’t he?
Chapter 7
Sarah sat on the floor by the heating stove in the rear of the store methodically removing small items from a box, then putting them back in. Philip and Charlotte shared cups of coffee at the table while they watched her. The furniture was much nicer than what they used in their living quarters, and she had long wondered why Philip didn’t use the table and chairs in his kitchen.
Traffic through the store had virtually halted. Most stampeders who wintered in town were now up on the trail making a push for the pass before the spring thaw.
Philip suddenly cleared his throat. “Michael has told me that he had a couple businessmen mention seeing Gabe in town once, a week or so ago.”
Charlotte’s heart suddenly dipped. “Why didn’t he stop in?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Philip stared at his coffee mug. “He loves you, and the pain of not being with you is eating at him. Still he is too stubborn to admit to not getting his way. He found out he couldn’t manipulate things. He couldn’t control his heart.”
She felt heat pulsing in her cheeks.
“Sooner or later he’s going to realize that he has to give up trying to change the past and grab on to the future.”
Charlotte looked at Philip with his head still bowed. He could also be talking about himself.
They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Philip sipped at his coffee, but Charlotte ignored the now cold brew in her cup.
“I finally received a letter from Aunt Bessie,” Philip said.
Charlotte sighed. She herself had received a couple of letters in response to her job search. Though polite, kind, and sympathetic, no one could offer her work while times were still financially precarious. What could she do?
“She’ll come within a week or two, assuming the ships are running, and she sounded positively thrilled by the invitation. Though, I’m afraid she may try to play mother hen.” Philip slumped in his chair like a youth.
Charlotte laughed in spite of her circumstances. “I have a feeling that the woman will be just what you and Sarah need.”
“And you,” Philip offered.
She waved away the comment. “It’s time I think of moving on.”
Philip scowled at her. “And where do you think you’re going?”
“I—I could…” Her thoughts spun, and she almost spoke the first silly notion that came to mind.
He continued to study her, even though Sarah tried to hand her father a block of wood that she had been playing with.
“See Uncle Gabe?” the toddler asked.
“Maybe so,” Philip replied as Charlotte turned away from his scrutiny. “Maybe so. From what I can gather, Gabe and his group should have reached the Scales about now where their outfits will be weighed and redistributed before the climb up the pass.”
“He’s been gone two months. That’s only around seventeen miles,” Charlotte said. “Are you sure that’s all the farther he’s gone?”
“No, not positive, but they’re each packing at least a thousand pounds without horses and without hiring any packers. And then there are the storms we’ve been having,” Philip said, beginning to smile.
Charlotte shifted in her chair and spilled some of her coffee. “That’s all very interesting.”
“And you want to go,” Philip stated. “You want to go after him, but you’ll need to do it before he crosses the summit.”
It se
emed as if Philip had plucked the crazy idea out of her own mind. She coughed. They had to be crazy to even mention it.
“You can’t get past the summit’s customs check without the required supplies,” Philip continued enthusiastically. “So you need to go as soon as possible. The store is slow, and Michael’s free now. He’s been up that trail many times with a cargo company that hauls loads for a penny a pound. He knows it well, and I fully trust him to get you through. You could be there in two—maybe three—days.”
Charlotte shook her head even as she let herself imagine what she might have to endure on a trek up that trail.
“Leave now before Aunt Bessie arrives, or she might try to talk some sense into us romantics.”
Charlotte burst out with laughter. “But…but how are you going to manage everything—the store, the cooking, Sarah? She’s become more energetic these days. The walls can barely contain her.”
Philip contemplated his little girl. “Guess I can’t tie her to my back like a papoose, but we’ll survive until Bessie comes.”
Sarah leaned against Philip’s leg and smiled up at Charlotte with her dimples flashing.
Charlotte couldn’t believe this crazy idea suddenly looked doable. Was Philip right? Did Gabe really care for her? Could a little push make him admit those feelings?
This would take some prayer, but finally she said, “Let me cook up some extra food for you.”
Philip smiled. “That would be appreciated.”
The last day of March didn’t give any promise of spring’s arrival. The cold morning air bit at Charlotte’s face, and she adjusted her scarf to better cover her nose and cheeks. She carried a light pack of clothing on her back, while Michael walked beside her with a heavy load of food supplies and sleeping bags. They had been hiking at least an hour, even though darkness still cloaked the valley.
Charlotte’s body ached this second day on the trail. Her routine at the store didn’t require a lot of exertion, and last night’s hotel accommodations did nothing to live up to its grand name. A large tent displayed the sign for the Palace Hotel and Restaurant. It had a dining area and a sleeping area. Charlotte had to lie fully clothed on a cot in an open room with other cots and endure the snores of a dozen men. At least the meal had been hot and filling.
Her boots slid in the snow, and again she was grateful for the skirt she had shortened for the hike. It rained the day they started out, but not far up the trail, they encountered snow.
Trying to conserve her energy and focus on the snow-covered trail, Charlotte rarely spoke to Michael. He seemed to understand her need for silence and left her to her thoughts. And they were many.
Where would they find Gabe? How would he receive her? What if he rejected her? Was this love she felt worth the risk?
She pictured Gabe on the day they met, tomato covering his boots. She recalled how she’d admired his light blue eyes—the kind of blue that peeked out of a snow pack.
He appeared strong and determined, yet boyish, when he had stood on the steamer’s deck with wind whipping his dark hair. Was it then she began to love him?
He showed kindness toward her when they shared about their lost loves. Their many chats aboard ship had sealed their friendship.
Even though she was intended to be Philip’s wife, it was Gabe’s tenderness toward Sarah that tugged at her heartstrings.
The way she felt for Gabe couldn’t be controlled, and it scared her. She didn’t know what to do with such emotions when he seemed so unattainable. She tried desperately to ignore things he did and said that seemed to show his heart, but no one could ignore the gift of the heart-shaped nugget.
Now she was free to offer her love to Gabe, but would he be ready to accept and return that love?
After a late lunch of cold fried bacon, corn bread, and ice water, Michael said, “We’ll stop at Sheep Camp tonight. I feel a storm brewing.”
By morning—after another night in humble conditions—Charlotte heard the snowstorm howling and knew they would make no progress on the trail that day.
Gabe and his partners had managed to haul about half of their goods to the summit by March 31. Then two days of very foul weather set in, paralyzing their progress again.
Moving at a snail’s pace, it had taken more than two months on the trail just to reach the summit. Then they had a boat to build and miles of lakes and rivers to navigate before they’d ever reach Dawson and stake a mining claim. With all the people on the trail—sometimes one right after the other climbing the “Golden Stairs” to the Chilkoot Summit—he wondered if there still could be any gold left in the Yukon.
Gabe drifted through the camp town, seeking someone who could make a better pot of coffee than he could master. Most of the thousands who called this their temporary home chose to keep inside due to the foul weather.
He made for a tent that served as a mercantile and postal exchange. He’d been checking for mail nearly daily with no results.
The shopkeeper sorted mail beside the stove as Gabe asked if there was anything for him.
“Monroe? Seems like I did see that name.” The bald man dug into a large canvas bag. “Ah, yes, I was just about to send this on to Lindemann. It’s been here awhile.”
“But I check mail regularly.”
The older man just shrugged.
“Never mind,” Gabe grumbled, then added a thank-you as he took a small bulky package from the man.
He stopped inside the store’s door to open it. The return address read Monroe of San Francisco, California, and he hesitated. Pulling paper open revealed a letter and a pocket watch.
Gabe turned it over. This belonged to his father. The golden design was unmistakable.
He slowly unfolded the letter.
Dear Gabe,
I write this to you while flat on my bed. It has taken a wrenched back to make me stop and take notice of what things are most important in life. I’ve raged at the Lord a lot while staring at the ceiling. Even your mild mother knows to stay away.
Gabe could picture his father’s anger at being confined.
I need to tell you that I’m sorry I wasn’t totally open with you about my dealings with Miss Aileen Mayer’s father. I was trying to protect my family and business. I thought I was involved in legitimate business with Mr. Mayer, but when I learned of illegal trafficking of goods between here and China, I pulled out. I’ve paid fines to the city and confessed my poor management of this situation to your mother and God, but I need you to understand. Mr. Mayer is shady, and he was, and still is, using his daughter as a business pawn.
Gabe felt his stomach twist. It was true.
Please accept this watch. It was your grandfather Monroe’s. The nuggets in the cover are from his gold strike. My father taught me about good business, honesty, and faith. I’ve not always done well to take the time and care to instill those lessons in you boys. Praise God you turned out fine, thanks to your mother.
If you should see fit, there is a position in the company for you. I would enjoy sharing my father’s teachings with you.
Sincerely, [scratched out]
With love,
Your father, B. Monroe
Relief flooded Gabe. His father’s forgiving and contrite tone soothed him, and the need to continue fighting the man seemed to disappear.
Gabe stuffed the paper and watch into his coat pocket and started walking. The snow whirled down the mountain in heavy flakes, clouding his vision. Then he bumped into a signpost. “We buy and sell outfits,” it read.
Chapter 8
April 3 dawned feeling almost warm despite the altitude. Charlotte was eager to leave camp. Sheep Camp had little to boast but tents and dirt and hordes of people. Even if Gabe had a tent in the town, she felt most confident of meeting him on the trail or at the Scales.
Michael came to her as she fastened her backpack on. “The natives are saying we shouldn’t go any farther up the trail due to avalanches,” he said.
“Avalanches? But…but Gabe is up th
ere.”
“He’ll take care of himself, but I’m not taking you anywhere today.” He turned and left, striding between tents.
Charlotte parked her belongings back in the canvas hotel, then she strolled through the camp town. Melting snow crunched under her feet, and she was grateful for the warm sun.
Two women sat on crates of provisions just outside a small, privately owned tent. Charlotte stopped to chat with them about where they were from and where they were going. She unwound her scarf under the bright morning sun.
A muffled boom, followed by a roar, barreled down the trail from the summit. The camp came instantly alert. Some men scrambled down the trail away from the noise while others started climbing toward it.
Charlotte’s heart pounded. Avalanche.
She left the other women and wove through rows of tents, looking for Michael.
Before noon another, louder roar filled the valley. She caught a sob in her throat as she thought of Gabe possibly trapped by a wall of snow.
Tripping on a tent stake, she rounded a corner and came upon Michael talking to a group of men.
“Miss Charlotte, now don’t fret.” Michael put his hands on her shoulders and looked in her eyes. “Don’t lose hope.”
Charlotte looked up at the kind man through her tears.
“I’m heading up the trail with a group to…help,” he said, then pointed to one of the men. “This man has a wife in camp, and we’ll take you to her.”
In a tiny tent that seemed to lean against the mountainside, Charlotte met a petite woman and her equally small daughter of about ten years. The woman looked peaked. They huddled by their camp stove and seemed to have no energy for chitchat. Charlotte had enough to think about without making conversation. The waiting tore at her nerves, and she soon left the tent.
The camp swarmed with people. Many came down trail from the Scales. Charlotte started asking men if they knew Gabe Monroe. She made her way through camp, working toward the trail’s incline. Just past the horse bridge, she met a group of men pulling a sled. Two bodies lay on the sled, twisted and frozen.
Treasured Christmas Brides Page 10