Rivers of Gold (19 page)

“I’ll see to it that the wound is well cared for. When should we return?” Teddy questioned.

“Two weeks.”

The doctor turned to go, but Miranda called out, “Wait!”

The man turned, a brow raising. “What is it?”

“Did you see a big man at the end of the hallway?” she asked. “It would have been earlier, prior to my arrival. I saw him there and believe him to be a friend of mine.”

The doctor looked to Teddy, who merely shrugged. “She’s been separated from her friends and family and has been searching Dawson for them.”

“I saw no one fitting the description. Perhaps the loss of blood gave you hallucinations,” the doctor replied, then left without another word. The brief moment of kindness he’d offered her earlier seemed all but forgotten.

“I say, not much of a bedside manner.”

“I know what I saw,” Miranda said, feeling suddenly very weak. “I know it was Adrik.”

“If it was, then he’ll be around in town somewhere. We’ll find him.”

“The doctor thinks I’m crazy.”

“Nonsense, he merely suggested that you might have … well, that is to say …” Teddy looked uncomfortably to her, as if expecting Miranda to rescue him from having to say anything more.

Miranda leaned heavily on Teddy, realizing she was completely spent by the entire affair. Perhaps Teddy was right. Maybe she had conjured up Adrik from the recesses of her subconscious mind. She longed to find her friends again and the long months of isolation and winter darkness had left her very discouraged. If not for her work with Teddy, she might have lost her mind to be sure.

“Oh, just take me home, Teddy.”

Outside in the long corridor, Miranda caught sight of another doctor. Her hope surged anew. Surely it couldn’t hurt to ask him if he knew Adrik, she thought. “Excuse me, Doctor,” she said as Teddy started to walk toward the man.

The bearded man looked up from the chart he’d been reading. “Yes?”

“I saw a very large man—down there—earlier. Maybe an hour ago. He was very tall and broad shouldered. He had a beard.”

“Oh yes.” The man nodded. “I saw him, too. He came in with a friend of his who has an ulcerated leg.”

Miranda let out an audible sigh. “I knew it. Did you get his name? I’m looking for my friend, and I thought it might be him.”

“No, I’m sure I don’t know the man’s name. The patient was called Lindon or Lindberg—or maybe it was Lindquist. Yes, I believe it was Lindquist.”

Miranda frowned. “I don’t know any Lindquists. My friend’s name is Adrik. Adrik Ivankov.”

“That name sounds familiar,” Teddy said, looking at her oddly.

“Well, it should, I have been talking about him—along with all my friends—ever since I woke up in your cabin,” Miranda countered. “You’re certain you don’t know the name of his friend?” she questioned the doctor again.

“No, I’m sorry. The man was only here a short while. He brought in his friend and then left to retrieve supplies. They were heading back to their claim, as I recall. I was called in to offer an opinion on the leg, but nothing more. The man wasn’t even my patient.”

Miranda nodded. “I understand. Thank you.” She turned to Teddy, more drained and discouraged by the man’s answers than by her wounded hand. “He’s probably gone by now. That was some time ago, at least an hour. No doubt they’ve headed back to their claim.” She felt as though her world were crumbling all over again.

“Please take me back to the hotel.”

Teddy gave her a look of compassion. “Indeed. I shall take you back and see to it that you are put to bed. I’ll bring one of the housekeepers to sit by your bed, as it would hardly be appropriate for me to care for you.”

Miranda barely heard his words. She was certain she had seen Adrik, and the fact that no one else seemed to understand or know where she might find him was more than she could bear.

When they returned to the hotel, Teddy arranged Miranda’s bed while the housekeeper he sent for stood by to assure propriety. Then he left the room while the girl helped Miranda change her clothes.

His staff had done a marvelous job of cleaning up his workroom. There was no telltale sign of the glass or the blood. He’d have to offer them a bonus for their good work.

Taking out his spectacles, Teddy bent over one of his journals and studied the drawing he’d made.
Epilobium augustifolium
. His gaze fell on the second part of the name.
Augustifolium
. The name made him think of Miranda’s friend. What had she called him?

Adrik? Yes, Adrik Ivankov. The name sounded familiar to him, but for the life of him, Teddy couldn’t remember where he’d heard it. Perhaps he was simply recalling the memory of Miranda speaking the name so often—but he didn’t think so. The name seemed to attach itself to a vague memory of the same type of large man Miranda had described to the doctor.

“I have Miss Colton all tucked in,” the house girl said, opening the adjoining door. “She asked me to keep the door open between the rooms.”

Teddy was surprised but pleased with this news. He hated that propriety wouldn’t allow him to tend to Miranda as he had back in his cabin. Of course, Nellie had been the one to actually care for her at that time, but he had been able to look in on her at his leisure. And for some reason, that was very important to him.

“I’ve arranged lunch,” Teddy called in to the next room just as a knock sounded at the door. “That should be it now.” He opened the door and a young man of about sixteen or seventeen stood holding a tray laden with food.

It was the boy, however, and not the food that caught Teddy’s interest. The boy looked familiar, yet Teddy was quite sure they’d never met.

“Do come in. You may leave the tray on the table over there,” he instructed the boy.

As the youth entered the room and passed by Teddy, the memory suddenly came to him. The boy reminded Teddy of the young man who’d accompanied the buyer of his sled. The big man with the beard.

The big man …

Teddy felt the wind go out of him. Adrik Ivankov. The man who’d bought his sled had introduced himself as Adrik Ivankov. Of course! Teddy looked to the open door adjoining his room to Miranda’s. He should tell her, of course, but then what? He had no idea where the man had headed after purchasing the sled. He only recalled that the man and the boy had planned to depart immediately.

He supposed he could tell Miranda that much. But what if she hated him for failing to recognize Adrik? Granted, it had been a simple and innocent mistake, but she had been sharing information about her friends and family for months. Teddy simply hadn’t bothered to listen carefully. He’d been too caught up in cataloging his plants and creating the book of his dreams—of his father’s dreams.

“Do you need anything else, Mr. Davenport?” the boy asked.

Teddy shook his head, tossed the boy a coin, and glanced again toward Miranda’s room. What could he say to her? He could tell her that he was a thoughtless oaf—a man given to his own selfish interests. But, of course, she already knew that.

And he could hardly say, “Sorry, old girl, I was just remembering that I had an encounter with your friends when we first arrived in Dawson City. Pity I hadn’t paid attention to your stories or descriptions of them.”

Teddy turned away from the open door and walked to the window. The hours of light had increased over the months and soon the thaw would be upon them. He would be ready to return to the fields to gather specimens. He had hoped Miranda would accompany him and prayed she would consider making their arrangement a more permanent one.

If I tell her the truth, she’ll hate me
, he thought.
She’ll blame me for letting them get away all those months ago. She’ll never speak to me again
.

He looked down on the streets below where a bustle of activity assured him that a change was in the air. The cold had kept people rather immobile for many months. Now whenever the sun was overhead and the weather higher than thirty-below, folks ventured out as if spring had come.

“I can’t lose her,” he whispered against the glass. “I can’t.” In that moment he made his decision. He would say nothing. He would keep his secret and pray that Miranda would never learn the truth.

—[CHAPTER EIGHTEEN]—

SKAGWAY HAD COME into its own during Peter’s absence. The sights, sounds, even the smells, were different than the little mud-flat harbor town he’d known before. Hotels, stores, gambling halls, and drinking establishments lined the main thoroughfares and beckoned his company. Church spires, schools, and a train depot suggested a more civilized society.

The railroad, now running over White Pass, was rumored to make it all the way to Lake Bennett by summer. Peter thought it amazing, given the fact he’d worked on the railroad’s inception only last year. The rugged terrain did nothing to welcome a railroad, that much Peter knew firsthand. They’d been forced to blast rock shelves out from the sides of the mountain in order to lay track. The work had been perilous and often deadly. Apparently the workers’ temperaments matched that of the land. Stubbornness and pure grit would see the railroad built to Dawson City.

“Mister, want to buy some mining equipment?” a scruffylooking man asked. “They’ve found gold in Nome, ya know. If you’re headin’ out to Nome, you’ll need some gear.”

Peter smelled the foul odor of the man before he turned to meet his gnarled expression. “I don’t think so.”

“I got me an outfit I bought off a man who was headed home. I need the money, mister. I can sell it to you for five hundred dollars.”

Peter shook his head. “Sorry, I already have the goods I need.”

The man spit and wiped brown tobacco juice from his beard with the back of his sleeve. “Ain’t going to find a better deal. I’ll make you a bargain. Let’s say … four hundred-thirty.”

“No,” Peter said more firmly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He’d barely taken five steps down the street when yet another man, equally repulsive and odorous, offered to sell Peter a tent.

“I have no need for it, sir,” Peter told the man.

The bum smiled, revealing multiple holes where teeth had once been. He scratched his belly, then shrugged. “I got snowshoes and sleds, as well.”

“I’m sorry, but I have everything I need.” Peter moved on, amazed at the number of people who walked the streets trying to sell him something. By the time he got to Jonas Campbell’s house north of the city, he’d been offered everything from fruit to satin slippers.

Knocking on the door, Peter waited for Jonas to appear. It was late enough in the day that Peter was sure he’d find his friend at home, rather than down at the train shops where he worked repairing engines.

“So you found me,” Jonas said with a smile as he pulled the door open wide and laughed at the sight of Peter. “I guess my directions were good enough, eh?”

“They were perfect,” Peter replied. “I came straightaway without trouble. Unless, of course, you count trouble as being harassed by every other man on the street to buy their goods.”

“Those cons are everywhere,” Jonas said, ushering Peter into his small house. “They offer to sell you almost anything you can think to ask for. The law tries to keep them under control, but it’s more than what this town can handle.”

“Didn’t seem so bad last year,” Peter said, pulling his cap from his head.

Jonas motioned for Peter to take a seat at the roughhewn table. “I got some coffee for us.” He poured the steaming liquid and brought the mugs to the table. “Things weren’t this bad last year,” Jonas admitted as he handed Peter a cup. “But then the height of the gold rush glory was just coming to a peak. Now things are dying down.”

“Is the gold played out?”

Jonas shook his head. “No, I don’t believe it is, but the people are. The winter wore most of them to the bone. Those that didn’t collapse and die vowed never to endure another arctic winter.”

Peter took a long drink from his mug. “I can well understand that. Here it is the twenty-fourth of April and it’s still incredibly cold outside. Looks like it might even threaten snow.”

“Most likely,” Jonas replied. “So tell me about this trip of yours. You goin’ to take the train north?”

“As far north as it will go.”

“Well, it’s over the pass, that much I can offer you. They’re working on the tracks again, but not making much progress. The snows have kept them pretty buried. They’ve even broken into two teams—one working from the north and heading south, and the other is heading north from the front of the line. They hope to meet in the middle and have the thing at least as far as Lake Bennett.”

“I had heard that destination mentioned. Jonas,” Peter said, leaning forward, “what should I do after getting as far as Bennett? Can I hire a boat to take me to Dawson?”

“Oh, yeah, these days—or I should say when the water isn’t three feet thick with ice—they run steamers through most areas. It ain’t half the trouble it was last year. Why, you had people crashing on the rocks, losing their boats and lives… .” Jonas’s voice trailed off. “Sorry, Peter. I just remembered about your wife. I do apologize.”

“No offense taken. I’m glad they worked to make the route safer. I would pray that no other man be saddled with the pain of losing someone they love.”