[Song of Alaska 02] - Morning's Refrain (5 page)

Slapping at the water as she resurfaced, the woman fought to keep her head above the waves. She clearly could not swim. She struggled in such a panicked manner, it left little doubt in Dalton’s mind that she was fighting for her life.

Without another thought, Dalton pulled off his boots and jacket and, before Briney could even attempt to stop him, headed into the water.

The shock of the cold momentarily stunned Dalton. He would have to move fast before the water lowered his body temperature to a dangerous level. Swimming with long, steady strokes, Dalton tried to look up long enough to get a fix on the woman. When he didn’t spy her immediately, he began to fear it was too late. He prayed he wouldn’t have to dive to locate her. Just then he caught sight of her odd little hat as she bobbed up for air. With a few strong thrusts, he reached her side just as she sank once again.

Dalton knew she would probably fight him, but to his surprise she all but collapsed against him as he pulled her backward by the collar. She had either the good sense to let him rescue her or she’d passed out. Either way, he didn’t care, so long as she didn’t resist his efforts. With a strong single-armed stroke, Dalton began the journey back to shore. He heard cheers from the people but ignored them to focus on the job at hand. Neither one of them was out of danger just yet.

When he got close enough to touch the ground, Dalton stopped and stood. Panting and exhausted, he reached around and lifted the water-logged woman in his arms. Blond hair spilled down from what had once been a carefully pinned bun. Somewhere in her struggle she’d lost the little hat.

“You’re . . . hur-hurting . . . me,” she protested, her teeth chattering.

“Excuse me?” He looked down to meet her frowning expression.

“I said . . . you’re hurting m-me. You’re . . . holding me . . . too tight. In fact . . . I d--.d... . . don’t know why you’re c.carrying me . . . at all.”

He could see she was younger than he’d originally thought. Instead of a more matronly woman, he found himself eye to eye with a girl surely no more than his own eighteen years.

“I’m trying to save your life and get you to shore.” Sharp rocks cut into his feet, but Dalton pressed on.

She seemed to gain control of her teeth. “But you’re pulling my hair,” she declared.

Dalton stopped at this and looked at her in disbelief. “You have a strange way of being grateful for someone saving your life.”

She reddened and shook her head. “My hair is caught. Put me down at once.”

Seeing that the water was no more than a foot deep, Dalton nodded. “As you wish.” He released her and watched as she fell back into the water. The look on her face was one of complete disbelief.

Dalton watched as she hit the bottom and bounced back up. Sputtering and shrieking, she fought the water and tried to reposition herself. He smiled as she managed to regain some control. With her skirts molded to her slim body, she struggled to steady herself.

“How dare you!”

He chuckled. “You told me to put you down. I just did what you said.”

“How accommodating,” she said, taking her skirt in hand.

Dalton shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

She fixed him with a glare. “You are no doubt one of those uneducated ruffians I was warned about.”

This only served to amuse Dalton even more. “I certainly hope so.”

He laughed heartily as he moved toward shore. Other would-be rescuers were approaching, so he pushed through them to retrieve his coat and boots from Briney.

“You gotta get out of them wet clothes. Come on over to my boat.”

Just then Joshua Broadstreet approached. He held out a blanket to Dalton. “I have another blanket for the young lady.”

“I’d be careful in giving it to her. She’s the testy sort.”

Josh laughed. “Well, she just very nearly drowned.”

“Because of her own stupidity,” Dalton countered. He stripped off his shirt and wrapped the blanket around his shivering body.

“Maybe she’d be grateful to you if you brought her this bit of warmth,” Josh teased.

Dalton looked at the blanket for a moment and shook his head.

“She wasn’t grateful for having her life saved, so I doubt a blanket will change her position.”

“Come on, Dalton.” Briney pulled him away from the approaching young woman and her crowd of helpers. “No sense worrying after her now.”

“Believe me, I do not intend to give her a second thought.”

“I was terrified when I saw you go into the water,” Lydia told her son as the family ate supper that evening. “Are you certain that you’re doing all right? You aren’t chilled, are you?” She reached out and felt his head.

“Honestly, Mother, I’m fine. The water was cold, but Briney saw that I dried out quickly. I’m far more interested in the food on my plate and the pie you promised.”

“Let him eat, Liddie. He’s just fine,” Kjell said, taking hold of his wife’s hand. “Relax.”

“Illiyana said you’re the fastest swimmer in Sitka,” Britta announced.

Dalton reached over and gave a gentle pull on his sister’s earlobe. “I’ll bet her brothers would have something to say about that. I know for a fact Yuri considers himself a great swimmer.”

“Well, you were really fast,” Kjerstin declared. “I think if you had a race, you would win.”

“I’d rather not give it another shot just now,” Dalton replied. “That water was much too cold.”

“How come the Tlingit children go in the water all the time?” she asked, looking to her great-aunt for answers.

Zerelda exchanged a look with Lydia. “Well, the Tlingit have their ways and we have ours. They take their children into the water at an early age to toughen their skin and strengthen their constitution. The law has forbidden it, but some still bathe their infants quite early in the icy water. I don’t suggest it, however.”

“But why?” Kjerstin asked. “Why do they do that?”

“Well, the native people do a lot of things that would probably be harmful to whites. For instance, they eat a variety of things that often make us sick.”

“But you said we were all made the same in God’s eyes.”

Zerelda nodded. “That we are. Even so, we needn’t all do the same things.”

“But the missionaries say that the Tlingits should be like the whites,” Kjerstin pressed.

Her comment was clearly unexpected. Lydia looked at Kjell and then to Zerelda. “People say a great many things. It doesn’t mean it’s wise or sensible.”

The ten-year-old was visibly concerned. “But they’re doing God’s work. You said that when people are doing God’s work, they are often misunderstood.”

Lydia smiled. “I’m glad to know you’ve been listening. It’s true that missionaries are often misunderstood.”

“And they often misunderstand. Sometimes they simply make mistakes in how they handle things,” Zerelda interjected.

Lydia frowned. This had long been a bone of contention for her aunt. When Sheldon Jackson and his missionaries moved into the area, Zerelda Rockford had voiced a mix of praise and frustration.

Her agitation over the way the Tlingits were treated was a frequent topic at the Lindquist table.

Evie gave Lydia a smile. “I think we all make mistakes. We say and do things we wish we could take back.”

“So the missionaries are wrong?” Kjerstin asked.

Zerelda put down her fork. “I believe sometimes they are. They have good hearts and long to do God’s work, but I think some go about it all wrong. They haven’t really bothered to understand the people and their culture because they believe the old ways should be put aside. That leads to resentment and confusion among the native people, and I can’t say that I don’t feel the same way.”

“Now, now, Zee. We hardly need to get all up in arms at supper,” Kjell said in a good-natured manner. He gave his daughters a wink. “You girls owe me a game of checkers tonight. What say we have our pie by the fire and get started?”

“Yes!” Britta declared, getting to her feet. She looked to her mother. “May we please?”

Lydia was surprised that Kjell had suggested such a thing, but it was clear he didn’t want his daughters drawn up in an argument about the politics of serving God. She nodded. “I think that would be just fine. You three go ahead, and I will bring your dessert.” Kjell smiled and pushed back from the table.

Once they were gone, Lydia turned to her aunt. “Zee, you know Kjell doesn’t like to see the girls in the middle of this. It’s bad enough that folks discuss it at church.”

“Well, it should be discussed. It’s a problem that has been with us for a long while.” Then Zerelda’s hard expression softened, and she pushed away from the table. “Still, I want to keep the peace. I’m sorry. I simply feel passionate about this matter. I feel so many of the Tlingits are suffering at the hands of the whites, rather than being benefited as so many like to believe. It’s like the Russian church and the Presbyterians are playing a game of tug-of-war with the hearts and minds of the children. Goodness, but it seems almost criminal the way they go at it.”

Dalton reached out and patted his great-aunt’s hand. “Your love of the Tlingit people is amazing, Aunt Zee. You’ve worked to better understand the people and their culture. You’ve shown them that the love of Jesus transcends everything else.”

“Speaking of which, I have some more material for quilt squares,” Lydia announced. “Mrs. Vargas brought us what had been collected at church.”

“That’s wonderful. We’ll have plenty of time to cut squares. The Tlingit girls won’t be returning until fall,” Zerelda replied. “I know they are needed at home for the salmon run and such, but I hate for them to put aside their lessons.”

“Perhaps they’ll find a way to continue studying at home.” Lydia got to her feet and looked at Dalton. “Would you like more fish?”

“No, but I’m ready for that pie. I’ve still got plenty of room for that.”

She laughed as he patted his stomach. “I’ve no doubt.”

“Well, saving a life is hard work. Gives you a big appetite,” he said in a teasing tone.

“You were quite the hero,” Lydia told her son. “I think it helps when the person you have to rescue is so pretty.”

Dalton laughed. “She was also full of spit and vinegar.”

“I’m sure she was embarrassed by what had happened. Goodness, but the whole town had turned out to greet the new governor, and there she was, making a scene.”

“I hadn’t really thought of it that way. Just figured she didn’t like me.”

“And would that matter to you?” Lydia asked.

His expression grew thoughtful, and then he simply said, “I think it would.”

Chapter 4

P
hoebe Robbins finished pinning her long blond hair into a neat roll at the back of her head. She stared at her reflection in the mirror for a moment and sighed. She had not wanted to come to Sitka, Alaska. Had it not been for her mother’s pleading, Phoebe would have taken up her grandmother’s offer to remain in Vermont. Her brothers, Theodore and Grady, seemed more than happy to make the trek to the wilds of the frontier. But at fifteen and thirteen, all of life was an adventure to them.

“If you continue to frown that way,” her mother said, sweeping into the room with fresh linens, “you’ll have permanent lines on your face.”

Phoebe rose from the dressing table and offered her mother a weak smile. “I’m sorry.”

“If you’re still fretting over that incident last week when we arrived, why not do something positive instead?”

“What are you talking about?”

Mother placed the linens at the end of Phoebe’s bed. “That nice young man who saved your life. You told me you regretted how you acted. I have arranged to go meet his mother this afternoon and personally thank him for what he did. Perhaps you could make him a gift of apology—maybe some cookies.”

She considered this for a moment. “I do owe him an apology. I hardly know what got into me.” She followed her mother out of the room. “But he owes me one, as well. He threw me down in the water. I could have been injured.”

“Oh, Phoebe. Your embarrassment got the best of you. If you’d not lashed out, he would never have reacted in such a way. Make him a batch of cookies, and he will quickly forget your caustic tongue.”

Phoebe tied on her apron and moved among the collection of unpacked crates. “Why did Father have to agree to take this job?”

“You know he’s good friends with Mr. Knapp—Governor Knapp. It was always supposed that if he was appointed to be governor over the district, we would accompany his family and your father would work for him. Personally, I’m glad to have a good friend in his wife. Martha is the kindest of women, and I shan’t grow too lonely with her near.”

Frowning again, Phoebe wanted to comment that this was all well and fine for her mother, but Phoebe had no real friendship with either the governor’s wife or their children. Who was she to befriend in this vast and desolate country?

“Besides, we have each other—you and me. We must simply make the best of our situation,” her mother continued. “I believe we shall have a great need for our candles. If our supplies were undamaged on the move here, we shall have to get to work right away.”

The women in their family had been chandlers for five generations. Her mother had taught Phoebe the various secrets to making candles, along with recipes for a variety of types. It was both fascinating and enjoyable work.