[Song of Alaska 02] - Morning's Refrain (10 page)

“The loser doesn’t,” Dalton said before Yuri could add anything more.

His friend looked at him oddly. “What do you mean?”

“You said the winner gets Phoebe. I’m saying that the loser won’t get her. That’s loss enough. I don’t like the idea of playing games where such important matters are at stake.”

Laughing, Yuri gave him a playful punch on the arm. “You’re just afraid that I’ll win.”

Dalton said nothing in reply. He was afraid. Afraid he was already losing his heart and had no control over the outcome.

“Now come on. I know where we can get something stiffer to drink than this punch.”

“Yuri, you know I don’t drink. My folks don’t drink, either. We’re pretty much temperance people, if you want to know the truth.”

“You’re missing out on a great deal of fun,” Yuri assured him. “But have it your way.”

“Your folks won’t approve,” Dalton interjected.

“My folks don’t have to know. Besides, I am a man. I make my own decisions.”

Chapter 7

T
he arrival of the steamship
Corona
was reason for excitement in the town. Dalton knew there would be a crowd to contend with, but he had promised his mother that if the ship arrived he would bring the mail home with him that evening. He waited his turn at the post office, glad that he’d not come earlier. The sorting of letters and packages was done with meticulous attention to detail, much to the frustration of those who’d come as soon as the mail had been delivered. Everyone was anxious for information—for word from home or loved ones. It was cause for celebration in this island town.

When Dalton was finally handed a stack of letters, he had to fight his way back through the crowd of people. Once outside, his focus was immediately drawn to the letter on top. The return address indicated it was from Mrs. Jeannette Stone. His sister.

Here was a woman he didn’t know—had never met—yet she was as much a sister to him as Evie. He touched the letter, lingering over the feminine handwriting. Who was this woman? Did she ever think about him—wonder about the brother who’d been born to her stepmother?

He frowned. So many unanswered questions. Would there ever be a chance to set it all straight?

“Dalton?”

He looked up to find Phoebe. She smiled, and he couldn’t help but feel guilty for the conversation he’d had with Yuri. What was he thinking, agreeing to a contest of hearts?

“Hello.” He felt rather tongue-tied.

“Mother came to see if the ship brought the rest of our things,” she offered.

“I came for the mail.”

For a moment, neither one said anything. Dalton noted the blue of Phoebe’s eyes and the way her nose turned up just a bit at the tip. She had the most charming face—rather like an angel. He shook his head. This was getting him nowhere.

“I had a nice time at the dance,” she said, breaking the silence.

“You dance quite well.”

“Uh, thanks. I suppose it’s because my mother insisted I learn. How about you?”
What a dumb question
, he thought. She’s going to think me an absolute bore.

“I learned to dance in Vermont. It came in handy when two of my friends married earlier this year.”

Dalton nodded, uncertain what else to say. He wanted to ask if she had a suitor—if she’d considered marriage. He wanted to know how she had learned to dance, and what her life in Vermont had been like. Instead, he glanced down at the mail. “I guess I’d better head on home.”

“Good day to you, then,” she told him rather formally. Without another word, she turned and walked back up the street.

Dalton wasn’t sure if he’d offended her or if it was just her way. Picking up speed, he headed the opposite direction. He was just passing the sawmill when Joshua stepped out the door to his private quarters.

“Are you heading home?” he asked Dalton.

“I am. What of you?”

“I’m going your way. If you’d like a ride, I have the wagon ready and waiting. I have some wood to deliver to your father. It’s for the smokehouse.”

“He’ll be glad to get it, I’m sure. I know Mother and Aunt Zee have been anxious to get that project finished up so they can smoke fish.”

They walked around to the side of the building, where two lanky Russian boys were securing the load. Joshua’s large draft horses pawed anxiously at the ground. Dalton rubbed the velvet muzzle of the horse nearest him.

“Easy, boy. We’ll soon be on our way.”

The horse bobbed his head as if in agreement. Joshua climbed atop the wagon to inspect the load, then instructed his help to clean up inside before heading home. Dalton climbed onto the wagon as Joshua came forward to take his seat.

“How are the roads between here and home?” he asked Dalton.

“A little wet in spots, but not too bad. I don’t think we should have too much trouble—not with these boys.”

“They were well worth the money I paid to bring them up from Seattle,” Joshua said, releasing the brake. He gave a gentle slap of the rein. “Come on now, get up there.”

The horses pulled against their harnesses with minimal effort and began the slow plodding walk from the alleyway to the street. Dalton was glad for the ride and grateful for Joshua’s company.

“So, how goes the boat building business?” Joshua asked.

“Not too bad. There hasn’t been a big demand of late, and that has Mr. Belikov worried. Then, too, his wife’s family has been nagging her to go home to Russia. It creates a source of frustration for him, which tends to trickle down to Yuri and me.”

“Funny how that works,” Joshua said with a grin. “When the boss is out of sorts, everyone suffers.”

Dalton nodded and turned to study the harbor for a moment.

“I’ve given a lot of thought to what I want to do—especially if he does close shop and head back to Russia.”

“And what did you conclude?”

“I really enjoy making boats. I’d like to open my own shop. I’ve been thinking that with more and more folks heading up our way, it can’t be too long before it could be quite profitable. I’m wondering, however, if maybe I should keep my sights low—make smaller launches and such. Then if someone wants to commission a larger boat, that would be bonus income.”

“And the smaller boats would, no doubt, sell more easily.”

“And if not here, then possibly in Juneau or elsewhere,” Dalton added. “Mr. Belikov tends to be short-sighted when it comes to planning for the future. Maybe it’s because he knows they will sooner or later return to Russia and he doesn’t want to commit to too lengthy a project.”

“I suppose I would be of the same mind,” Joshua replied. “It wouldn’t do to promise a product and be unable to make good on it.”

“Still, there is great industry here. I’ve heard talk about additional canneries—and, of course, that will require larger catches of fish.”

Joshua gave a shrug. “An island town will always need boats, my friend.”

“And if things slow down, my father is always willing to have my help.”

“Kjell has found himself much busier this summer, what with the new governor and his people. I heard there are plans for several new homes.”

“It’s true,” Dalton confirmed. “Father put together several teams to assist him, but finding quality laborers has been difficult. He takes great pride in his work and refuses to simply slap together a place for the sake of finishing it.”

“I’ve always admired that about him. Your father has a sense of honor and responsibility that has given him a well-earned reputation. No doubt, that is why the governor and his people have gone to him for help.”

They rounded the bend and took the turn for the Lindquist property. Dalton glanced down again at the letters in his hand.

“You were here when my mother came to Sitka.”

Joshua startled and laughed. “Yes, but what does that have to do with building houses and boats?”

“I’m just now learning the details of what happened after I was born. Mother being shot and my brother taking me.”

“Your father mentioned that you were asking questions. It’s been suppressed for so long that I’ve forgotten many of the details.”

He frowned. “What do you remember?”

“That your father lost his heart the first time he laid eyes on your mother.”

Dalton had often heard his father comment on meeting his mother and how she fainted dead in his arms. He’d spoken with great fondness of the memory, and how this was when he first fell in love with her. Dalton thought of Phoebe Robbins and their first encounter. The similarities were not lost on him.

Dalton could see the house ahead and hear his sisters at play. He turned to Josh. “What about when I was taken?”

“It nearly killed Kjell. He loved you both so much, and for Lydia to be so close to death . . .” Joshua shook his head. “They thought for a time that you were dead. The men had planned it that way—the ones who took you.”

“Probably my brother’s plan.”

“I’m sure it was. I never understood how he was able to avoid paying the price for his part.”

“Mother says that with enough money, you can buy yourself in or out of nearly everything.”

“Kjell wasn’t able to leave her side,” Joshua continued. “He turned the sawmill over to me, and I doubt he ever gave it another thought. He only wanted to know that she would be all right. Then when she did recover but couldn’t remember anything, well, it broke his heart all over again.”

The girls came running as Joshua drove the wagon back to the workshop. Kjell appeared in the doorway as they brought the horses to a halt.

“We can talk more about this another time,” Joshua told Dalton before turning to Kjell. “I’ve got that lumber you asked for. Where do you want it?”

Dalton climbed down from the wagon wishing they’d had more time. His father took Dalton’s place. “Let’s take it on down behind Zee’s. We’ll just stack it there.”

“I’ll be down to help after I take in the mail,” Dalton told them.

“Did I get anything in the mail?” Kjerstin asked as the wagon moved out.

Dalton tugged one of her pigtails. “Now, why would you ask such a question? Have you ever received any mail?”

She gave her head a slight shake and lifted her chin in a pose of exasperation. “But that doesn’t mean I never will. Someday I might get a whole bunch of letters.”

“And who would be sending those letters, missy?” he asked playfully.

“A boy,” Britta interjected. She giggled and covered her mouth.

Kjerstin was unconcerned with her sister’s teasing. “I might get a letter from a boy. You just never know.”

Dalton laughed and reached out to hug his sister close. “You will probably get more letters than you can keep up with. I shall have to watch after you very carefully when the men come to court. I won’t stand for any nonsense.”

Evie looked at the letter from Jeannette and sighed. She started to put it aside, then thought better of it. It was nearly dinnertime, but Lydia and Zee had things well under control. She opened the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of paper. How strange that there was so little news. Jeannette usually filled pages with all manner of gossip.

Genevieve,

You must return to Kansas City at the earliest possibility. Your
husband is gravely ill and is not expected to live.

Evie reached for the nearest chair and sat down before continuing.

He has asked for you multiple times and begs for us to send
you to him. I know this letter may not reach you in time, but you
must come. We’ve arranged a train ticket to be waiting for you at
the station in Seattle. The journey will no doubt be quite arduous,
but there seemed no other choice.

No matter the past, you must come. You are his wife and it
is expected that you should be at his side.

The letter ended there. Nothing more—nothing to state what illness had befallen Thomas Gadston. No mention of why he had asked for her.

“You look as though you’ve swallowed a fly,” Lydia said, coming to set the table.

Evie looked up, and Lydia immediately sobered. “What’s wrong?” There was fear in her voice.

“It’s Thomas. He’s dying.” She straightened and folded the letter.