Rivers of Gold (6 page)

Maybe her persistence at gathering her meager belongings would wear Miss Colton out and leave her willing to forego her adventure. Not that he truly believed she’d step foot outside the door.

Teddy lost himself in thoughts of his drawing and the work at hand. There was no sense in worrying over his guest. She would settle herself down and realize the sensibility in waiting until help came their way. Perhaps she’d even put on a pot of tea. It wasn’t until he heard the door to the cabin open and felt the cold rush of arctic air that Teddy realized he’d underestimated Miranda Colton.

Miranda slammed the door to the cabin, hoping it jarred Mr. Davenport’s teeth right out of his head. The man was insufferable. He kept his nose buried in his notes and drawings from morning light until dark. Even then, he would often take up a lantern and work until the allotted supply of oil was gone.

Stepping off the small porch, Miranda felt an alarming sense of folly when her booted feet sunk into snow that came up over her knees. And this was in the area that Teddy had managed to clear away prior to the last big snow. How deep must it be in other areas?

Miranda pulled her fur hat down, trying desperately to ward off the frigid temperatures. Her eyes were crusting with ice as she blinked against the painfully cold air.

“Oh, God,” she murmured as she pushed out across the once shoveled path. “I need your help. I have to get to Dawson. I have to know if Grace is safe.” The frigid temperatures slowed her steps. She was so poorly prepared. Even without Teddy there to tell her so, Miranda knew she would be dead before she ever reached Dawson.

“What do I do, God?” she whispered, burying her face into the fur lining of her cloak. She was grateful Nellie had left her such a fine gift. She only wished the fur extended to cover her entire body.

A twig snapped and Miranda froze in her steps at the sound, her heart racing. Could it be wolves? She’d heard horror stories of wolves that attacked humans and fed off their bones while the person was still alive. Swallowing hard, she turned and strained to see into the darkening woods. If she were to be attacked, she would meet her assailant head on.

She let out a long breath when Teddy’s bundled figure emerged from the shadows. “Why are you following me?”

“Because someone has to,” he replied. “Stop this nonsense and come back to the cabin. You’re lost already. At this rate you’ll end up in Whitehorse before you ever see Dawson. Now come along. Much longer out here and we’ll both pay the price.”

Miranda knew it was hopeless to argue. Her lungs already hurt from the frigid air. “Very well, Mr. Davenport. As it appears I have no other choice, I will do as you suggest.”

“This truly wasn’t necessary,” he said as they made their way back. “You may believe me to be heartless and completely void of understanding, but I know very well that your need is great.”

“You certainly don’t act like it,” she said, struggling to keep up. Stubbing her toe against a buried rock or branch, Miranda cried out and would have fallen face first in the snow, if not for Teddy.

Steadying her with one hand, he reached out and took her bundled things with the other. “I say, we’ll both be ready for a spot of tea when we get back inside.”

Miranda felt completely humiliated. It had been purely childish and even selfish to take this action.

Once back in the cabin, Miranda warmed her hands by the fire. Her gloves had helped to keep the cold at bay, but her fingers were numb, as were her toes.

“I fail to see what you thought that would prove.”

Miranda looked up to see Teddy watching her most intently. “I thought it would prove my willingness to risk my life in order to ease the concern of my friends.”

“But if you had died on the way it would have proven nothing—especially if your friends think you already dead. You see, the logical thing—”

“Oh, please don’t give me your analytical review of the matter,” Miranda said, closing her eyes in exasperation. “My heart has no understanding of it and it is my heart that urges me to find my friends. Can’t you see that?” She opened her eyes and looked at him. His expression seemed to suggest that he could not comprehend her meaning.

“Oh, just forget about it. I don’t expect you to understand.” She turned back to the stove.

“I am not without concern for your emotions,” Teddy countered. “But I am a man of logic, and that logic tells me that we dare not attempt the wilderness on our own. I’ve stayed alive up here by listening to the advice of those who know better. You’d do well to follow my example.”

Miranda knew the truth in his words, but she didn’t want to admit it. A tear trailed down her cheek as she realized she might well be stranded until spring. She turned away so that Teddy wouldn’t see her cry. No sense in bothering him with her sorrow.

“I’m sure you know best, Mr. Davenport,” she finally said. “I’ll try my best to understand.”

“Perhaps you should take some of your own advice and not take this situation so seriously.”

Miranda realized he was using her words against her. She turned, hands on her hips. “Mr. Davenport, laughing over spilled oatmeal is one thing, but my dear sweet mother may very well be inconsolable over the loss of her only daughter. My friends may be suffering guilt and pain over their belief that they’ve played a part in my death. I cannot help but take this situation seriously.”

Teddy gave a halfhearted smile, causing him to look youthful and vulnerable. Miranda almost felt sorry for him. His gentle spirit was no match for her temper. Calming a bit, Miranda drew a deep breath. “I know there is nothing to be done. I will try to be useful, instead of antagonistic.”

After arranging her meager belongings under the bed, Miranda stretched out atop the bed and tried not to think of home. She tried her best to put aside thoughts of how sad Christmas must have been for her parents. She tried not to worry over whether or not Grace had given birth.
I might as well be stranded on the moon for all the good it does me. Never mind that we are less than one hundred miles from Dawson. Never mind that it’s already January of a new year and I have no idea where any of my friends and family are
.

She thought for a moment of Crispin Thibault. Both he and Mr. Davenport bore themselves with a sort of European flair—that flavor of aristocracy that Americans always seemed so desperate to emulate. But where Mr. Davenport was driven and passionate about his work, Crispin had been a free spirit—simply living to experience life. He hardly cared where they went or when they might arrive. Crispin was the kind of man who would be just as content to get in the boat and let the river take him where it would. Mr. Davenport, on the other hand, would go no place unless it merited him to do so. They were completely opposite—and in more ways than one, for Miranda knew that Mr. Davenport was a godly man. He prayed and read Scriptures to her every day. He also talked of God on occasion, but for the most part dedicated himself to his work.

“I am taking the liberty to reheat the leftover portion of our luncheon stew,” Teddy said, jarring Miranda from her thoughts.

Miranda shook her head and sat up. The man had a penchant for destroying meals. “I’ll heat it,” she said getting to her feet. Reluctantly, Miranda crossed the room and took the pot from Teddy’s hands.

“I’m happy to help.”

Miranda looked at him and forced herself to smile. He was trying to make up for his attitude and lack of interest in her situation. “I suppose you could slice the bread.”

“I believe I can handle that,” he said, heading to the counter.

Miranda worked in silence for several moments. Teddy Davenport was such an unusual man. She found herself wishing she knew more about him. “Tell me about your homeland, Mr. Davenport.”

“It’s certainly different from this place,” he answered. “We would never have to endure cold like this. In fact, it rarely snowed.”

“What part of England are you from?”

“Well, actually, my parents owned two estates. One was very close to London. My mother’s people were from the area, and she loved the city. London, of course, is quite fascinating. There are many fine places to go—museums, shops, and such.”

“But you didn’t care for it as much as the other place?” Miranda questioned, feeling certain her guess was true.

Teddy smiled. “You are very astute. My favorite place was by far and away the estate of my father’s people. It was in Cornwall, not far from the coast. It was quite lovely there year round. We had magnificent gardens and my father was good to train me in every area of horticulture.”

“Do you still live there? I mean, when you aren’t in Canada.” She was amazed that he had shared so much information with her.

“I do,” Teddy admitted. He took the bread to the table.

“Do you have caretakers who tend it while you’re away?”

“Of course. They tend it while I’m in residence as well.”

“You must be very wealthy.” Miranda never heard his response, however, for without warning, the front door blasted open and Miranda reached out to take hold of Teddy’s arm as if for protection. She ducked behind him when two bulky figures entered the room.

Teddy stood frozen in place, and Miranda wasn’t sure if he was more concerned with his visitors or her actions. It took a great deal of willpower to let go of his arm and step back. Watching the figures shake themselves of their icecrusted blankets, Miranda wasn’t at all surprised to see that their visitors were Indian.

“Little Charley!”

Her heart skipped a beat. Could it be? Had help arrived? Were they truly going to leave this place and make their way to Dawson?

Teddy turned to her and smiled. “It would appear that, even if my knowledge of your need is less than what you desire, God has heard your prayers. Little Charley has come to take us to Dawson.”

—[CHAPTER FIVE]—

IT HAD BEEN MORE than two weeks since Adrik and Jacob had gone off with Gump Lindquist, and frankly, Leah Barringer was starting to worry. She knew her brother was quite capable of taking care of himself, but the separation was maddening. She couldn’t seem to convince Jacob that searching for their father was a waste of time. He had no doubt died in the Palm Sunday avalanche the previous year. She could accept it. Why couldn’t he?

Stirring a pot of beans, Leah heard Grace stir from her bed across the room. The tent allowed for very little privacy. Adrik had stretched a rope across the area where Grace and Leah shared a crude bed. Karen had draped a blanket over the rope to partition the room off for the sake of changing clothes and such, but it also blocked what precious heat could be had.

Leah glanced over and saw Grace struggling to sit up. Karen had long since left for her job at the Sourdough Cafeé, leaving the two women to entertain themselves for the day. Leah knew there was washing to tend to as well as bread to make, so keeping busy wouldn’t be difficult.

“I’ve got some prunes and oatmeal ready for breakfast,” she called to Grace. “And I’ve already put the beans on for our supper. By the time they’ve cooked all day with bacon, they should taste pretty good.”

“Leah,” Grace barely whispered the name. “Leah, something is happening.”

Leah put down the spoon and came to the bed. “What’s the matter?”

Grace looked up, her eyes filled with pain and fear. “It’s the baby. The baby is coming.”

Leah had watched her mother die in childbirth, there was no way she wanted to be left alone with another woman who might well do the same. “I’ll have to get help.” She looked around the tent as if the answer might well be at hand.

Grace reached out and gripped her arm. “Remember where the midwife lives? Just down by the river. You’ll have to go and bring her back.”

Leah nodded. “Will you be all right while I’m gone? I mean, it’s still dark, and Karen’s already gone to work.”

Grace released her hold. “I’ll be fine.” She clutched her abdomen. “Just hurry.”

Leah ran for her coat and boots. “I’ll be as fast as I can.”

Once outside the tent, Leah quickly realized her main adversary was the weather. Heavy snow made the going difficult. She held a lantern in front of her as she stumbled again and again, wishing silently that she owned snowshoes for such occasions. Assessing the situation momentarily, Leah tried to reason out what was to be done.

“Help me, Father God,” she prayed aloud. The wind bit into her face, stinging painfully as it pelted her with ice and snow. The path seemed to obliterate before her very eyes. “I don’t know which way to go.”

After a search that seemed to take forever, Leah stumbled down what she hoped was the path to the river. If she was on the right path, she knew she would soon be approaching the small bridge she could cross over to reach the Dawson side. The midwife lived in a small cabin behind one of the more popular saloons. Leah hated to go there alone, but there wasn’t any chance of a proper companion—save God.

The snow seemed to ease up a bit, but the darkness was just as maddening. The lantern did very little to aid her. Leah slipped and felt the rock solid ice against her knee. She struggled to keep from dropping the lantern as she got back to her feet. Moving even more cautiously now, Leah continued to pray. She hated the darkness. It was frightening and so filled with death and dying. Karen had brought home a copy of the town paper that told of an entire family that had been found frozen to death in their tent. There were other deaths listed as well. Miners who hadn’t been able to endure the harsh cold of winter. Babies and children who were no match for the elements. The horror of such tragedies frightened Leah more than she wanted to admit.

The north had already claimed her father’s life. Would it also claim hers?

Leah finally reached the river and breathed a sigh of relief. She had only to cross the bridge and then make her way to the midwife’s cabin. It shouldn’t be that hard, she reasoned. The snow was lessening, and the glow of light from the windows in town could now been seen through the flurry of white. God had heard her prayers. Everything would be all right.

But it wasn’t all right. After Leah had pounded on the midwife’s door for over ten minutes, a woman bearing heavy makeup and a haggard look impatiently opened the door and told Leah there would be no help—the midwife had taken ill and lay on her deathbed.