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.”
Peter shook his head. “I’m not leaving Skagway until I see Grace. You’d better tell her.” He forced himself to leave before he released his pent-up anger on Paxton. Opening the door, Peter dared to look up. Paxton was actually smiling. “I’ll check back tomorrow. She’d better be here.”
Paxton circled his desk and reseated himself as Peter Colton exited his office. “If I had the power to bring her here, she’d be here already,” he muttered. He threw open his top desk drawer and pulled out two folded sheets of paper.
One was clearly addressed to Peter Colton. The other was a hastily scribbled request to send a telegram to Wyoming.
At first Paxton had found it amusing that Grace had fallen for the biggest scam in Skagway. There was no telegraph to the lower territories and states. Soapy Smith had made money hand over fist with that little gem. Too bad the man had gotten himself killed in a gunfight only days before. As irritating as Smith could be, Paxton had figured one day he would buy the man over to his side of the fence. Together they could have ruled Skagway and Dyea and controlled the commerce and people coming in and out of the north. But instead, Smith had been too threatening—too greedy. And the people had risen against him.
Paxton got up from his desk and headed over to the castiron stove. Poking up the fire, he took one last look at the words Grace had penned to her mother. Words that never reached the woman, but were instead answered at no small expense, with Paxton’s own suggested content. He tossed the paper into the stove and smiled as the corners curled and caught fire.
Then he looked at the letter Grace had left at the Hotel Alaska for Peter. He hadn’t known of the letter until just the week before. After Grace had disappeared from Dyea, Paxton had set out once again to find her. Quizzing the hotel manager at the Hotel Alaska had been difficult, for the man had taken ill and his nephew had been put in charge. Finally, however, the manager regained his health and had returned to take charge of his business. At that, Paxton’s men had quizzed him about Grace. He admitted to knowing nothing of her whereabouts but added that he held a letter for her husband, Peter Colton.
Paxton had the letter in his possession before the end of the day, and with it he found all the answers he needed. She’d gone north. North to Dawson City. Once again she’d fled his hold. He’d thought to keep her in Skagway, or Dyea at least, and he’d paid a good sum of money to see that no captain would give her passage on any ship heading south. But Grace had outwitted him once again, and for that Martin burned in anger, just as the letter burned when he cast it inside the stove.
“Colton will never know the truth,” Paxton said as he slammed the door shut on the stove. “But with a little incentive and a great deal of money, perhaps the man can be persuaded by a lie.”
ADRIK WASN’T AT ALL SURE he should have given in to the idea of building a boat in Lindeman. He wasn’t prepared for the high cost of materials and the shortage of good lumber. He also wasn’t prepared to hear about the One Mile River and the rapids that connected Lake Lindeman to Lake Bennett.
Still, he had to face the truth of the situation. They needed transportation north, and they could either pay for freighting in someone else’s boat or take a chance on their own. Coming from seafaring people, Adrik didn’t question his ability to build a decent craft. He listened intently to the advice given him by other builders and added it to his own knowledge, designing a boat that would be ideally suited to the strenuous travel they would encounter. Still, he wished he might have considered other options.
Supplies were scarce, and the available lumber was green and spongy. Not the kind of thing you wanted for building a ship. Green wood would shrink and lead to disaster on the trip. Many people were waiting to build boats in Bennett, and while that had been Adrik’s original plan, he counted it as the divine providence of God that he’d changed his mind. Bennett was quite overcome with dysentery and typhoid fever. And while one police officer told him things were looking better, Adrik didn’t want to take a chance. Those were two problems he didn’t care to take on. Sickness and scarcity of goods were enough to discourage and send many a man packing. But apparently it wasn’t as daunting to the women in Adrik’s party.
The women wanted to press on and did everything within their means to see that it happened quickly. September would soon be upon them, and their options were quickly narrowing. With God smiling favorably upon them, it would take four weeks to reach Dawson by water. Yet in that time, the Yukon could freeze up solid and be hit with ten feet of snow. Adrik didn’t like thinking about the odds.
These thoughts fouled his mood, causing even Crispin to avoid him. Karen generally eyed him from afar, saying nothing—for once. He knew she had troubles of her own. She continued to fret over Jacob’s whereabouts. Leah had taken a cold, causing the child to be greatly discouraged and saddened. Between her mood and his, Adrik had no doubt Karen was feeling rather overwhelmed.
“So are you still planning for us to leave tomorrow?”
He hadn’t heard Karen come up behind him. He turned and smiled, determined to prove to her that all was well. “That’s the plan.”
She studied him for a moment. Her red-gold hair, now lightened considerably by the long hours spent in the sun, blew wisps around her face. Her eyes, so intent on under- standing his mood, were exceptionally blue. He wanted to reach out—to touch her. He wanted to beg her to marry him and put an end to his loneliness. But now wasn’t the time.
“I thought we were friends,” she said matter-of-factly.
Adrik hadn’t expected this and was taken aback for a moment. “What?”
Karen crossed her arms. “You heard me. Furthermore, you know exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve been nothing but a bear all week. You’ve grunted around here, barely talking to anyone. Your mood has sent the entire camp into a spell of depression, and I want to know why.”
“I have a lot on my mind. Getting this party north is a big enough task to weigh heavily on anyone. It’s already the middle of August.”
“So?” She refused to back down, and her expression caused Adrik to actually smile.
“So . . . winter isn’t that far off. There are signs that it just may come early. And if you’ll remember, it gets kind of cold up here. And when that happens, the water freezes and the snow falls and makes living a little more uncomfortable—and transportation a great deal more difficult.”
“Is that all?”
“Isn’t that enough? The odds are no longer with us.”
Karen shook her head. “I’ve never known you to be overly worried about the odds. No, this is something more.”
Adrik turned away from her and picked up his hammer. He wasn’t ready to tell her how he felt. How loving her was tearing him apart inside because he didn’t know if she could ever love him enough to share her life with him. He began to pound a nail into the piece he’d been working on all morning, but just as he raised his hammer, Karen took hold of his hand.
She didn’t say a word, and finally he had to look at her. Her expression softened as his eyes met hers. “Adrik, please don’t be this way. Just tell me what’s really troubling you. I promise to be understanding and to do my best to help you figure out what we should do.”
“Will you, now?” he said softly. He jerked away from her and put the hammer back on the table. Then turning back around, he pulled Karen into his arms. Mindless of the crowds that worked around him and the throngs of strangers who coursed right through their camp, Adrik lowered his mouth to hers for a long and leisurely kiss. She didn’t resist him. Adrik felt lost in the power of the moment. He wanted to forget that there were decisions to be made and trials to be faced. He wanted Karen, and nothing else mattered quite so much. Realizing that he had to put an end to their embrace, he abruptly ended the kiss and let her go.
“There,” he said. “Figure out what’s to be done about that.”
She stared at him in wide-eyed surprise. Her cheeks were red and her mouth was slightly open, as if to speak. Adrik knew it would be better for both of them if he simply walked away. So that was what he did.
Miranda and Crispin had just returned from a foray into town when they came upon Adrik kissing Karen. The passion displayed in that kiss had caused Miranda no small amount of discomfort. How she had longed for someone to love her as dearly and completely as she knew Mr. Ivankov loved Karen Pierce.