Rivers of Gold (29 page)

Someone touched her shoulder. At first Grace thought it was the doctor. Using the back of her sleeve, she dried her eyes and tried hard to square her shoulders. Getting to her feet with the man’s help, Grace turned, only to realize the man was her husband.

“Peter.” She spoke the name almost reverently. “Oh, Peter.”

It had been well over a year since she’d seen him, but the time instantly fell away with the look of love in his expression. Grace thought perhaps it was a dream, or that she had gone mad, but either way, so long as he was there at her side, she didn’t care.

She collapsed in his arms and buried her face against the once familiar chest. He smelled of fresh lye soap and hair tonic. As he tightened his hold on her, Grace thought she heard him draw a ragged breath. She pulled back just enough to see that he, too, was crying.

“I thought you were dead,” he said.

Grace reached up her hand to touch his face. “Why would you think that?”

“Because the letter that came from the Mounted Police said it was you and not Miranda who fell overboard on Lake Laberge.”

Grace shook her head. “How could that be?”

“I don’t know, but I thank God you are safe and alive. You have no idea the hours I mourned your passing. The hours I pleaded with God for your return are too numerous to count. And now, here you are.”

“It must have been a terrible shock to learn of Miranda,” she said softly. She stroked his jaw, feeling the stubble of beard beneath her fingers. He looked so much older—he looked exhausted and spent. She feared he might even be sick. “I’m sorry about your sister.”

“She’s alive, Grace. There’s no other way to tell you than to just come out with it. She’s down the hall speaking with Karen at this very moment.”

Grace let go of her husband, her voice catching in her throat. “She … she …”

Peter nodded, holding on to her shoulders. “She’s alive. Apparently she washed up on the shore, and Indians found her. She was treated and cared for by an Englishman and his housekeeper. Her health was restored, and she came here to look for you and the others.”

“I can’t believe it. Oh, Peter, I think I need to sit down.” Grace felt her vision blur and her head grow light. “I think I might very well faint.”

Peter led her to a chair, but then instead of having her sit on it, he sat down himself and pulled her onto his lap. Cradling her there like a child, he held her tight. “You’re as thin as a rail,” he whispered, and then added, “I can’t believe you’re here and alive. I think of how things might have been—but I pushed it away, all because of my stubborn refusal to yield to God what was rightfully His.”

Grace tried to clear her mind, but whenever she lifted her head the dizziness returned. She wanted to ask Peter a million questions but instead remained quiet. Perhaps this wasn’t the time or place. For now, she could just be grateful he had come to her.

As if knowing what she needed to hear, however, Peter continued. “I cannot say the way was easy. Paxton continued to hound and plague me. I feared him more than I feared God or anyone else. He seemed to have a power to destroy my hope.”

Grace nodded with a shudder, knowing only too well how Martin Paxton could be. She hoped she would never see the man again.

“In the course of my journey, God put me together with a great man named Jonas Campbell. Jonas helped me to see and understand what you’d been trying to tell me.”

Grace raised up and looked at her husband. A flicker of hope warmed her heart as she met his loving gaze. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m sorry for the pain and misery I caused you—caused us. I’m saying I was wrong and that I hurt so many people because of that wrong attitude. I’m begging you to forgive me and take me back, because frankly, I don’t know how to go on living without you.” He paused and Grace thought he had never looked so handsome as he did in this vulnerable, apologetic state. “And I’m saying that I learned the truth of God for myself and gave my heart over to Christ.”

“Oh, Peter,” Grace whispered. She touched his face very gently and wiped away the tears that streamed down his cheeks. “God is so good. So faithful.”

“Then you’ll forgive me? Forgive me for all the ugly words, for the way I treated you?”

“I forgave you the moment they caused me pain. I love you, Peter. That didn’t die in the wake of the battle, it was only bruised a bit.”

She fought back her light-headedness to get to her feet. “Come here. I have someone you must meet.”

Peter stood with her and went to the bed. “This is our son, Andrew. He’s very sick and I don’t know what the future holds in store for him. He was born last January here in Dawson.”

“I know,” Peter said, reaching out to touch their son. “Karen has told me all about him. He’s beautiful, Grace. Thank you.”

“The doctor isn’t certain what’s wrong. He fears it might be pneumonia or bronchitis. He says horrible things like, ‘
Such diseases are just stepping-stones to consumption
.’ Imagine telling a mother that her child might well develop consumption. It seems most cruel.”

“I’m sure he’s not trying to be unreasonably macabre. Perhaps he’s merely a realist. Maybe he just doesn’t want you to have false hope. Maybe he doesn’t know our hope is founded in God, and therefore is never false.”

“I thought he might … might die … without you ever getting to see him,” Grace said, stumbling on her words.

“He’s a Colton. He’s strong.” Peter turned her in his arms. “But even if he isn’t strong enough, God is. Oh, Grace, I see that now. I despaired during my search for you, feeling that maybe God was punishing me. For so long I believed you dead—your mother believes it, too.”

“Oh, poor Mama!” Grace said, putting her hand to her mouth. The awfulness of the truth was settling in on her.

“We’ll get a letter off to her as soon as we can,” Peter promised. “There’s so much more you don’t know. Things that I must say, that you must know.”

“What could possibly matter in light of all that you’ve already told me?”

Peter’s expression grew very serious. “Paxton is dead. He’s no longer a threat to us. He tried to make me believe you wanted a divorce. He knew things about our last fight that convinced me of his knowledge. But on the other hand, a part of me knew you would never give yourself over to him.”

“He promised to return your company if I did,” Grace said, shaking her head. The memory seemed as if it had taken place a million years ago.

“When I headed back to San Francisco after he told me you were dead, I found him on the same ship. There was an explosion and the ship went down. Paxton tried to leave me stranded on board, but instead, he was killed.”

“Oh, the whole thing sounds just awful. Were you hurt?”

“Yes, but I healed eventually. Now Colton Shipping has been returned to the Coltons, and there is one more aspect of this story that you must know. You are a wealthy woman.”

“What?” Grace could hardly believe she had understood him correctly. “For a moment I thought you said I was wealthy.”

“I did,” Peter said, reaching out to touch her face. “Your father protected most of his holdings by shifting everything into a trust for you. Paxton didn’t find this out until your father was nearly bankrupt. When he realized he had been duped, he continued to threaten your father—promising to tell your mother and you about the affair. It’s the reason Paxton suddenly showed up as your betrothed.

“When you ran away, your mother learned the truth, and Paxton was further frustrated to realize that she didn’t care. She loved your father and stood by him, putting the past behind her. Realizing he’d been further thwarted, Paxton decided that the only way to get what he wanted was to go after you and force the marriage. He had documents forged to falsely proclaim his guardianship over you, then headed to Alaska once he knew where you were.”

“It all makes sense now,” Grace said. “But why didn’t he follow me up here, if it was that important to him?”

“At first, he had no clue as to where you had gone. Then when he knew for sure you’d gone north, my guess is he was torn between whether to follow you himself or send someone after you. He was making a great deal of money in Skagway, plus he had Colton Shipping to think about. When the message came that you’d been killed, Paxton finally realized there was no hope of attaining what he’d worked so long and hard to have.”

“That must have just about killed him,” Grace said, glad that Paxton would have known the taste of defeat because of her. The man had been her family’s undoing, and it made her feel better to know that he had been defeated.

“I’m glad he’s dead,” she said without thinking. “God forgive me if that is wrong, but the man was so horrible to me—to my loved ones. I feared that he’d find out about Andy and try to steal him away. I worried that he’d come here to Dawson and threaten our lives. I forgive him—I honestly do—but I’m glad it’s over. I’ve had very little peace because of that man.”

“You’ve had very little peace because of me as well, but I hope to remedy that. I’m not that same man, Grace. God has broken me, and I’m much better for it.”

Grace wrapped her arms around Peter. “I love you so very much. I couldn’t bear to lose you—again.”

“You’ll never lose me, darling,” he whispered against her ear. “Never.”

Just then Andy’s faint cry could be heard. Grace nearly pushed Peter away at the sound. “Listen!”

She looked at her son and found his eyes open. His fussing was like music to her ears. Reaching out, Grace touched his forehead. The fever had broken—his skin was cool to her touch.

“Oh, Peter, he’s better. This is the first time he’s rallied since taking ill. Oh, thank you, God!”

Peter reached down to touch Andy’s cheek. The baby began to cry a little harder at the appearance of this stranger. Grace quickly lifted her son, holding him tenderly to her breast. Andy immediately began rooting—seeming suddenly eager to nurse.

“I’d say he’s hungry.” Peter touched his head. “That must be a good sign.”

“I’m sure it is. Oh, I’m sure it is!”

“I heard a baby’s cry,” Karen said, coming into the room. “Was it Andy? How is he doing?”

Miranda followed Karen and stood at the door, looking stunned. Grace felt as though she were in a dream. Karen moved beside Grace and reached out to touch Andy.

“The fever’s gone,” she announced.

Grace nodded. “I can scarcely believe what God has done.” She felt the dizziness return to her head. “Would you please hold Andy for a moment? I’m feeling rather faint.”

Karen quickly took the baby, while Peter took hold of Grace. Miranda came to her side and helped her to the chair.

“I thought you were dead,” Grace whispered, tears falling anew. “I thought I’d lost my sister forever.”

“I feared the same fate might well have happened to the rest of you,” Miranda admitted. “I searched and searched but couldn’t seem to make any headway. I couldn’t find any of you. I found Crispin several months ago and he told me you were all well the last time he’d seen you. He died shortly after that, but he accepted Jesus as his Savior before he died.”

“That’s a great comfort,” Grace said, remembering Crispin’s gentle treatment of her while she labored to give birth to Andy. “I will always be fond of the man. He helped Leah deliver Andy, and for that I shall be eternally grateful. May he know peace now.”

“I’m sure he does. His countenance was quite peaceful when he passed. I wish he could have been here to see us all reunited. I’m so happy, I can scarce take it in.”

Grace embraced her sister-in-law with tears of joy, her heart overflowing with happiness. The lost was found and the prodigal had come home. The sick had been healed and the blessings of God’s abundance flowed over them all like warm summer rain. All was right with the world once again.

“But I’m telling you, I didn’t kill Gump,” Jacob protested to the police officer. “He was a good friend. I wouldn’t have done something like that. I had no reason.”

The officer seemed unimpressed. “Did you kill Mr. Lindquist for his gold?”

“No!” Jacob declared, certain that if he spoke the truth they’d release him.

“So then did you kill him because of a disagreement?”

“I’m telling you, I didn’t kill him.”

The man looked at Jacob, his expression clearly betraying his disbelief in Jacob’s statement. “You say a man came to the door and shot Mr. Lindquist through the heart. After this, you wrestled the gun away from him and the man fled before anyone else could come to the scene.”

“That’s right. The man’s name is Cec Blackabee. He admitted to stealing our sled and wanted to know if we had some of his other possessions. He figured to strong-arm his way in and take them by force.”

“I see,” the Mountie replied. “Then how is it that no one else saw the man leave the cabin? Upon hearing the shots fired, your neighbors came to investigate. No one saw another man leave the scene.”

Jacob felt sickened by the events of the past few days. He had no idea how to make the truth any more clear. This man believed him to have murdered Gump. The poor old man was barely gone and they wanted to blame Jacob for the death.

“I’m telling you the truth,” Jacob said, sitting back down on a bench in his cell. “I didn’t kill Gump Lindquist. I didn’t kill anybody.”