Rivers of Gold (15 page)

Like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, Miranda felt her face grow hot as they locked gazes once again.

“Miranda,” he whispered in almost a reverent tone.

When she leaned forward, Miranda had no intention of initiating a kiss—yet that was what she did. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly upon the lips.

He did nothing, and when Miranda pulled away, she put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, please forgive me.” She hurried for the door, completely embarrassed at what she’d done. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I mean I shouldn’t have—” She opened the door and turned to see him standing there still stunned by her actions. “That was a mistake—it won’t happen again.”

She hurried out of the room, not even bothering to close the door behind her. She ran for the comfort of her room, frightened by the emotions raging through her. Closing the door, she leaned against it, panting, struggling to draw a decent breath.

“Why did I do that?” she whispered.

Her stomach did flips, her emotions alternating between giddy and terrified. “I kissed him,” she said aloud to the room, as if it might offer her some comment. “How could I have acted so wantonly?”

Shame flooded her soul. “Oh, forgive me, God. I never meant to be so forward. Mr. Davenport has done nothing but be the perfect gentleman. He’s helped me every step of the way, providing for my needs, and I repay him by this. I’m so sorry.”

She began to pace the room, the heavy navy wool of her skirt flaring out around her as she moved. He’d bought her the skirt, as well as the cotton blouse she wore. He’d bought her other things as well—shoes, boots, undergarments. At the thought of the latter Miranda felt her cheeks grow even hotter.

I’ve ruined everything
, she thought.
I acted on impulse and now look where it’s taken me. I deserve for Teddy to march over here and throw me out
.

As if on cue, a loud knocking sounded at her door. Miranda froze in place. “Who … is … it?” she stammered.

“Open the door, Miranda.”

It was Teddy. He’d come to reprimand her and to ask her to leave. Gathering her courage, Miranda went to the door and opened it. Before she could offer another word of apology or even a plea to be given a second chance, Teddy swept her into his arms and kissed her ardently on the mouth. His lips lingered for more than a moment and Miranda lost herself in reckless abandonment. If this was good-bye, then she’d go out in style.

Releasing her rather abruptly, Teddy stepped back. His eyes were ablaze with passion. “I don’t want it to be a mistake,” he said, his voice husky and very different from the businesslike manner in which he usually communicated.

Grace Colton sat nursing her son after a long day of washing out linens and towels. Adrik had secured her a place with a local dentist, Dr. Brummel, and his wife, Georgia. As soon as she recovered from Andy’s birth, Grace had gone to work for the couple doing housekeeping and laundry, along with some cooking. Her efforts were rewarded with room and board for herself and Andy and a small amount of pocket money.

She had very little time off, but that didn’t matter to Grace. In fact, she preferred things that way. When working, she didn’t have time to dwell on Peter. Not that she could ever put him totally from her mind. Looking down upon her brown-haired son, she knew she would be forever reminded of her husband—no matter his decision regarding their marriage.

Andy cooed as if knowing her thoughts. He pulled away from her breast and laughed, his tiny hand reaching up to take hold of her unpinned hair.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” she whispered. “You are my very life. God was so good to give you to me.”

She shifted him into an upright position and adjusted the neck of her nightgown. How she cherished these quiet moments in the late evening. This was her time with Andy. Hers alone. Had Peter been a part of their life, he would have shared in the time, and then he would have seen for himself how very special their relationship might be.

“Oh, Andy,” Grace said sighing, “I wish your papa could know about you—see you. If he were here right now, I know he would adore you.”

Andy made gurgling noises as Grace began patting his back in order to burp him. She rocked back and forth in her chair, humming to herself in rhythm. Andy’s eyelids grew heavy, and after burping him, Grace lifted him to her shoulder and pulled his hand-knit blanket around him.

“Thank you, God,” she prayed as Andy fell asleep—his face nuzzled against her neck. “Thank you for this child and for the protection afforded me by Dr. Brummel and his wife.”

She rocked in the silence for several minutes, enjoying the simple pleasure that the moment afforded her. It was hard to imagine, given the peace she felt, that the entire world outside her window could be so caught up in the pursuit for gold.

There had been numerous claim jumping incidents and even deaths related to misunderstandings. Grace had found it far easier to remain in the safety of the Brummel house, rather than risk her life on the streets. She’d only gone out twice, and both times were to venture no farther than the corner dry goods store.

Each trip had been marked by an unusual event. The first one had brought her face to face with a group of “scarlet women,” as Mrs. Brummel called the local prostitutes. The day had been warmer than most and Grace had decided the short outing would be good for both her and Andy. But babies were a fairly rare sight in the town, and Andy brought much unwelcome attention—especially by a group of prostitutes who had wandered over from Paradise Alley.

Grace had been rather uncertain as to how she should handle the moment. The girls, heavily painted and gaudily dressed, had each wanted to hold Andy. They cooed over him, reaching out to touch the pure and innocent child. Grace pitied them and allowed them their moment of pleasure.

One woman, not so much older than herself, held Andy longer than the others. She gently stroked his cheek and spoke in low, soft whispers. Grace couldn’t hear what she said, but when the woman returned Andy to her arms, Grace saw tears in the prostitute’s eyes.

The moment had moved Grace beyond words. She was certain she would always remember the woman’s face and wonder what problems had brought her to such a sorry life. Was there a baby in her past—perhaps a child who had died or had been taken from her? The very thought left Grace deeply saddened.

The next time Grace ventured out, she had gone alone. This time the store was filled with raucous miners, and an argument ensued about which creek was bearing the best show of gold. Before Grace knew what was happening, the men had separated into two groups, and Grace found herself positioned between the two as she stood at the counter preparing to pay for her goods.

In the next moment, one of the men took a swing at another and Grace was pushed to the floor. As she looked up she was shocked to see the store owner bring down a large wooden mallet on the counter.

“You are a disgrace to mankind,” the owner told the men as the sound of the mallet strike echoed in the small confines of the store. He came around the counter and helped Grace from the floor and then unfolded his handkerchief and laid it out flat on the counter.

“You all owe this lady an apology. A pinch a piece ought to say it well enough.”

Grace watched as each of the hardened sourdoughs ambled up, muttered their regrets, and deposited a pinch of gold dust on the cloth. By the time they’d finished she had fifty dollars worth of gold to her name.

After that she had decided it would be best not to risk another trip. Andy needed her—she was all he had until Peter could be found. Of course, she knew Karen and Adrik would happily provide for the child, but they were two days away down on Hunker Creek. Only that morning she had penned Karen a letter, telling her how much she longed for their company and hoped the time would soon present itself for her and Andy to join the others.

With Andy asleep, Grace put him in her bed and rolled thick blankets in a circle around him. He needed her warmth for the cold nights, but she didn’t want to risk rolling over on him. Mrs. Brummel had suggested the arrangement and had even rearranged the room to place the small bed up against the wall so that Grace needn’t fear Andy rolling out once he became more mobile.

Yawning, Grace sat down to complete her final task for the night. She turned up the lamp just a bit in order to see better. Taking up a pencil and paper, she began writing a letter to Peter. In the letter she told of Andy’s birth. She hadn’t had the courage to do so until now. The baby was two months old, and she needed to let Peter know of Andy’s existence.

What she dreaded most was that Peter would come to her only because of Andrew. She didn’t want her husband to journey to the Yukon out of a sense of obligation or duty. She wanted him to come because he loved her and wanted her to be his wife. If he found out about Andy, how could she ever be sure of the reasons behind his return? She had prayed about the matter more than once, knowing it was only fair that Peter should know about his son’s birth. She even wondered if God might use Andy to show Peter how important his marriage vows were—that his promise to God and Grace were the very foundation for the family he was called to lead. At the same time, however, she truly regretted having to break the news to him via a letter. She had thought to take a ship back to California, come summer, but now she wasn’t so sure.

The letter she’d written to Peter’s parents after Miranda’s death gave him every indication of her whereabouts. It hurt her that they had made no contact. She had made it clear that their party had intended to winter in Dawson City. She had assured Peter and his family that she could receive mail at “general delivery” in town. But no letter had ever come, and in the months since Miranda’s death, Grace had worried that maybe there would never be a letter from her husband.

“Lord, I don’t want him to come only because of Andrew,” she whispered, her tears falling upon the paper. “I want Peter to love me and to love you. I want Peter to come to me … but only if it’s forever.”

—[CHAPTER FIFTEEN]—

“THAT LEG LOOKS INFECTED, Gump,” Karen said as she assessed the week-old ax wound.

“Ja, I think you might be right.”

“Adrik, I think you’re going to have to take Gump to the doctor in Dawson before this gets much worse. It’s already showing signs of proud flesh.”

“You think it’s that bad?” Adrik came over and upon seeing the swollen, red wound let out a whistle. “Gump, you should have told me it had festered.”

“I figured it’d get better,” the old man said, his voice betraying the pain he felt as Karen sopped at the wound with alcohol.

“Well, it hasn’t. I guess we’re going to have to make a trip to Dawson and get you squared away.”

“You could also pick up Grace and the baby, couldn’t you?” Karen questioned. While she enjoyed Leah’s company in the small cabin, she longed for another woman to talk to. Especially one she knew as well as Grace. Grace was like her own daughter in so many ways.

“I suppose we could arrange for that as well,” Adrik replied. “It’s warming up a little at a time. Probably won’t have any more of those forty-below temperatures.”

“I hope you’re right. Anyway, I miss her a great deal and hate to think of her being all alone with Andy in Dawson.” Karen had only heard from Grace a few times. One letter had come just a few days ago, brought in by one of their neighbors who’d taken a two-week furlough in Dawson while his partner kept the claim.

“If you take me to Dawson,” Gump said, “who vill be here to care for the place?”

“I’ll be here,” Karen replied. “As much as I’d like to see civilization again, I’m just as happy to stay here. Leah and Jacob and I can take care of things while you’re gone.”

“I don’t like the idea of leaving you,” Adrik said.

“We’ll be fine, Adrik,” Jacob Barringer promised. “I’ve cut enough wood to keep warm until May and you won’t be gone that long.” He laughed good-naturedly. “And if you are, well, I’ll just cut more wood.”

“Not that there’s a lot left. Some of the areas are positively stripped of vegetation,” Karen said as she wrapped Gump’s leg with a makeshift bandage. “There, that will have to do until you can see the doctor.” She gently helped him get his boot on. “Try not to walk around too much. I’m afraid you’ll make it bleed again.”

“A man’s no good if he can’t be helpin’ out,” Gump replied.

“You’ll be no good at all if that poison gets into your bloodstream and kills you,” Adrik told the man sternly. He looked at his watch and then to Karen. “It’s too late to leave now. We’ll head out first thing in the morning.”

Karen knew Adrik was just as worried about the old man as she was. Gump had been good to them, and she’d grown to love the old man’s stories. Of course, it would have been better had the cabin been bigger. Adrik had helped the matter by fashioning some collapsible beds. They folded up when not in use, which allowed them extra living space during the day and early evening. Still, the cabin was barely twenty-bytwelve feet, and at times Karen could swear the walls were closing in.

Turning from Gump, Karen focused her attention on helping Leah with supper. A large piece of elk roasted on a spit over the fire in Gump’s hearth. The delicious aroma almost made Karen forget that she was sick and tired of elk. But she longed for fried chicken and creamy mashed potatoes. And she would have walked a mile for a piece of Aunt Doris’s strawberry cream pie. She would have walked two miles in the snow for a glass of fresh, cold milk.