Adrik noted the stumps where hundreds of hemlock, spruce, and fir had grown years earlier. “It’s a sorry state to see the land so stripped, but I’m sure we’ll find the necessary goods. First, however, we need to make camp. I don’t want you ladies worrying about anything for a few days. We can all wear dirty clothes and eat canned food. We can buy our bread at the bakery or do without if it’s too expensive.”
“We won’t wilt, Mr. Ivankov,” Grace threw out.
But Adrik wasn’t convinced. The poor woman looked almost green from her travels. She’d been so tired coming through from Crater Lake that Adrik had thought it impossible for her to take one more step, much less travel for miles.
They settled the matter of their camp by following the example of others before them. Setting up with the lake a short walking distance away, Adrik was almost sorry he’d allowed Joe to head back to Dyea. He missed his companionable silence, along with that of his sons, and Adrik also felt safer having more men in their party. There were no doubt plenty of scallywags and no-goods who would be tempted to trouble the women when Crispin and Adrik were off gathering supplies. It was a grave concern, but no more so than the idea of getting the small troop north.
Two days later, with Karen looking quite rested, Adrik permitted her to accompany him while he looked for lumber. She was eager, almost restless to be doing something more than sitting in camp, while the others were still bemoaning their sore feet and weary bones.
“Are you certain you’re up to this?” Adrik questioned as they hiked away from the lake and up the rising slope.
Karen kept even with his every step. “I’m doing quite well. I think this country agrees with me after all. It’s difficult to get used to the long hours of light in the summer and the equally long hours of dark in the winter, but I must say, the lack of formality agrees with me.” She laughed softly. “I never thought I would be saying that. I was such a stickler for keeping rules when I first arrived.”
“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 the 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.