She wanted to be charitable and treat them with decency, for her mother had always said Jesus did the same for the prostitutes of His time. But now, with her heart so hardened, so hurt, Karen was unsure of how to respond to anyone.
Pushing through a crowd gathered around one of the many con men, Karen shook her head in amazement. How foolish they were. The eager newcomers were fresh and unspoiled by the harsh elements of the frozen north. They faced their futures with keen enthusiasm and great pride. They were going north to make a fortune in gold—their future promised nothing but prosperity.
The con man promised them prosperity, as well—the quick and easy variety. They all did. From the underhanded salesman who sold secondhand saws—so dull they couldn’t slice through butter without getting caught up—to the man who played three-ball pick-any, sliding a peanut under one of three balls and letting people pay two bits a guess to find the peanut. They always lost. Always. And still they didn’t learn. They lined up for their moment—their prosperity.
Some prosperity!
Karen laughed in a cynical manner and lifted her skirts as she crossed the muddy streets. The weather had been so very unpredictable, and warm winds had caused a bit of a thaw, leaving the streets almost impassable as the hard frozen ground gave way to muck and standing water. Such was the paradise she had come to.
Sandwiched between the mountains and the west branch and main stem of the Taiya River, Dyea offered as much civi- lization as it could. Folks had big plans for the town, and a harbor with proper docks stood at the top of the list. The docks were even now in a constant state of improvement thanks to the Dyea-Klondike Transportation Company, or the DKT. Jacob had helped work on the piers and told Karen they were rapidly becoming first rate. The town was bound for popularity and wealth.
Of course, Dyea’s sister city, Skagway, already had a decent harbor and soon they would have a railroad, as well, thanks to some Englishman’s ingenuity. Karen frowned, but not because of Skagway’s vast improvements. Thoughts of Skagway only served to bring unpleasant contemplations of Martin Paxton. Karen had tried her best not to think of him at all, knowing that even speaking his name made her blood run cold and her temper run hot.
“Yahoo!” The cry of exuberance came from one of the gambling halls as Karen came ever closer to the harbor. Day or night you could always find someone drinking or playing any number of games. Mostly it was naÏve newcomers, cheechakos, those poor undaunted souls who had no idea what they were in for.
Having suffered an Alaskan winter, Karen was now considered a sourdough. She was well respected by the other more permanent residents of Dyea, earning her right to be among them. The thought turned bitter in her heart, however. She hadn’t come here to earn rights or achieve titles. She had come to find her father—to join him—maybe even help in his ministry. Instead, she had come too late. Her father was dead, and so too her dream of working with him.
Gunfire rang out, along with laughter, screams, and the unmistakable sounds of fighting. Karen glanced ahead, cautiously watching in case a body were to be thrown out into the streets from the Lazy Dog Saloon. She passed quickly and unscathed, nevertheless glancing over her shoulder just in case something or someone came at her from behind. It was certainly no town to raise children in, and because she was caring for Jacob and Leah, her thoughts ran constantly to their welfare. She had no idea what would be best for them. Ideally, their father should have made those decisions, but Bill Barringer had selfishly headed north, deserting his family to Karen’s care. And while Karen could admit that the children were probably better off with her than climbing over the golden stairs of the Chilkoot Pass, she fretted that she would somehow make a mess of their lives.
I suppose if I allow myself to stay angry all the time
, she mused,
I won’t be much good to them at all
. But even as she recognized the truth in her thoughts, Karen pushed it aside to acknowledge her growing desire for revenge. Paxton couldn’t be allowed to go unpunished. He had long taken things into his own hands, and it was time someone stopped him. Karen knew she didn’t have the ability to stop him on her own. That was why she had to enlist Peter’s help. Peter would understand and help her to see that justice was done. Justice or revenge.
The shallow waters that reached the shores of Dyea were not suited for ship traffic. In the early days, boats would harbor quite a distance from shore, then small launch boats or Tlingit canoes would bring their freight to dry land. The new docks and wharves were making the task much easier, but their length required a considerable haul to bring the goods into town. It had made more than one sea captain give up the idea of docking in Dyea. And it was for this reason that Skagway seemed much more likely to succeed. Karen didn’t care either way. She didn’t plan to stay forever in Dyea, nor move to Skagway. In fact, her life was so topsy-turvy at this point that she really had no idea where to head.
I don’t belong anywhere
, she thought.
I don’t belong to any
place or to any person
. The loneliness of this thought was more chilling than the breezy April air.
“Watch yar step there, missy,” a gruff-looking stranger said as Karen scooted past him on the docks. “Them are slippery ways.”
Karen could see for herself that the docks were wet, and she slowed her steps to heed the man’s warning. “Can you tell me if Captain Colton of the ship
Merry Maid
has come ashore?”
The man pulled off his wool cap and scratched his filthy head. His expression suggested his intent consideration of her question. “I kint say that I’ve seen him.”
She nodded. “Thank you. I’ll just press on.”
He grunted, pulled his cap back on, and went back to his work. Karen scanned the wharves looking for any sign of Peter. She knew he would be there, for he always came ashore ahead of his freight. Even now, she could see that
Merry Maid
was being unloaded.
Soon her efforts were rewarded. She spotted Peter as he pressed through a crowd of heavily laden men. People were everywhere and so were their goods. Stacks of possessions, caches for the trip north, were guarded warily by rosy-cheeked boys who had no idea of what the days to come would bring. Some strutted around the docks as if they’d already discovered gold. Others were so eager to continue their journey that they worked at an exhausting pace. Karen felt sorry for them. Few were dressed for the north. Their lightweight coats and boots were no match for the blizzards of the Chilkoot. When she worked the store, Karen had tried to convince those poor souls coming in for goods that they’d need to buy heavier coats and snow gear. Sometimes they’d listened, but more often they’d ignored her. She’d given up trying after a time, and unless someone asked her opinion, she’d sell them only what they asked for. They’d learn soon enough that this was only the beginning of a lengthy and possibly deadly journey. No sense in wearing herself out trying to convince them of things they would blindly ignore.
“Peter Colton!” Karen called as a sea of people threatened to send her back up the wharf and onto the sandy shore. She reached out, waving her arms.
“What are you doing here?” Peter questioned. He pushed through the crowd to take hold of her arm. “It’s sheer madness out here. You know it’s always like this when the ships come to dock.”
“I know, but I had to talk to you before you attempted to deliver goods to the store.”
“Attempted?” Peter asked, raising a brow. “What’s this all about?”
“There’s been a fire,” Karen said, seeing no reason to play out the telling of her tale.
“The store?”
She nodded. “Burned to the ground. We lost everything.”
Karen could see his confusion and shock. Putting her hand on his arm she added, “The Barringer children and I managed to escape, thanks to Adrik Ivankov. But Aunt Doris didn’t make it. She succumbed before reaching the door. I thought she was right behind me—in fact, I thought I had hold of her arm. I had her blanket and nothing more.”
This news brought Peter from his stunned reverie. He looked at her with such tenderness that Karen knew his sorrow was sincere. “Miss Pierce is dead? I’m so sorry. I truly liked your aunt.”
“It’s been hard to imagine life without her—to look toward the future—but it seems the days are passing, the sun still rises and sets, and the ships still dock, bringing us boatloads of people.”
Peter nodded. “There’s no sign of it slowing down, either. I had to turn people away in Seattle.” He glanced across the madness, then suggested they go somewhere else to talk.
“The Glacier Restaurant looks swamped with newcomers,” Karen observed. “Why don’t we head over to the Pacific Hotel? They’re boasting chicken and dumplings for lunch. The
North Star
came in yesterday with crates of chickens and fresh eggs. They sold for incredible prices.”
“I can well imagine,” Peter replied. “The Pacific sounds acceptable, and quite frankly, I’m famished.”
They wove their way through the excited crowd, saying nothing as if by some mutual agreement. Karen realized that once they were alone, she would have to explain her theory about Paxton. Adrik’s words of warning came back to haunt her. What if Paxton were an innocent bystander? What if he were merely gloating at their misfortune? But that just couldn’t be true.
The Pacific Hotel was nothing elaborate. Built nearly overnight from plank boards and sheer gumption, it could accommodate at least three hundred guests. Of course, most of those would find little other than a place to spread their blanket, but it nevertheless got them in out of the elements.
Peter found a small table and pulled out the chair for Karen. Considering her words carefully, Karen decided to ignore her pang of conscience. Without delay she leaned forward and explained what was on her mind.
“I think Martin Paxton was responsible for the fire.”
Peter stared at her blankly, and for a moment Karen thought he hadn’t heard her. “I said—” she began again.
“I heard what you said,” he growled and slammed his cap down on the table. “What makes you think this?”
“It was after Adrik had helped us from the burning building,” Karen said softly. “I was standing there crying, and I looked up and gazed across the alleyway. He was there.”
“Paxton?”
Karen saw the look of disbelief on Peter’s face. “Yes! It was Paxton. Not only was he there—after all, half the town had come by this time—but it was the manner in which he conducted himself. He stared at me smugly and then tipped his hat as if to say, ‘How do you like my handiwork?’ That was when I felt confident that he was responsible. After all, he lives in Skagway, not Dyea. Why would he even be here in the middle of the night unless it was for something underhanded?”
Peter studied the table in silence. He ignored the aproned matron who plunked down two steaming bowls of dumplings.
“What are you drinking?” she asked in a tone that suggested she had little time for dallying.
“Leave us alone!” Peter demanded. “And take this away.”
“Well, if you’re gonna sit in this restaurant, you’re gonna have to pay.”
Peter dug into his pocket and threw several coins onto the table. “There. Leave the food and take your money.”
The woman smiled, displaying her lack of front teeth. “Sure now, luv. You just stake your claim here and let me know when you strike it rich.” She laughed as if terribly amused with herself, then grabbed the coins, worth three times the price of the dumplings, and tucked them down her blouse.
Karen threw her an irritated glare, hoping the woman would speed up her retreat, but her action only made the woman laugh all the more.
“Where is Paxton now?” Peter asked, ignoring the woman.
“I don’t know. I presume back in Skagway. Peter, I know this may sound ridiculous. After all, I have no proof. But I feel confident that he’s guilty. You don’t know him like I do. You know him from your father’s stories of Paxton as a boy. I know him from the torment he put upon Grace.”
“Grace would have me forgive him,” Peter said angrily. “As if that animal deserved anything but the end of a gun.”
“Grace is only trying to be a good Christian,” Karen said with a shrug. “But even good Christians have their limits. Martin Paxton is evil. Plain and simple. He has caused us more problems than I can even begin to name. I have no desire to let this go unpunished.”
“What about the law? Did anyone see anything?”
“Apparently not. Adrik thinks a lantern was thrown through the front window, for we found a lantern in the debris.”
“But no one heard that happen? No one heard the glass shatter?”
Karen thought of the noisy nights in the small town. Gold fever combined with cabin fever made for a brand of rowdiness that could only be called chaotic, at best. Windows were often broken, in spite of the cost to replace them. Wars were waged on a nightly basis between those who felt they’d been cheated out of something they’d brought to the shores of Alaska and those who sought to relieve them of their possessions.
“I’m afraid many folks might well have heard the glass break, but they would have given it no further thought. Arson is such an unthinkable act that I’m sure no one would ever have suspected such a thing.”
“But such a thing happened and it destroyed my livelihood with it. Not to mention it took the life of your aunt.” Peter’s face contorted in rage. “This is what Grace cannot understand. Her religious notions matter very little to men like Paxton. She believes the world to be a place of love and second chances.”
“In all truth, I believe that, too,” Karen murmured softly. “At least I used to.”
Peter stared at her for a moment. “It doesn’t take much to open your eyes if you’re willing to see things for what they are. I find that religion clouds a man’s judgment of what’s real and what’s illusion.”
“And what is real?” Karen questioned, feeling a desperate need to understand. “Just when I think I have a clear understanding of that, it somehow seems to elude me.”
“What’s real is the ugliness and evil of some men. They will stop at nothing.” His voice lowered in a menacing manner, chilling Karen with the hatred that rang clear in his next statement. “Death is the only way to keep them from causing more harm.”