Dawn's Prelude (23 page)

He examined the baby, who by now had fallen asleep. “He’s so little.”

“Zerelda says he’s a good size. He’s healthy and has all of his fingers and toes,” Lydia said, laughing. “I know the latter because I counted them myself.”

Kjell chuckled. “I would have loved him even if he’d been missing some of each.”

“I’ll go prepare something for us to eat,” Zerelda suddenly announced. “Liddie never got any breakfast. She woke up in labor, and things progressed fast. I think some nourishment would be good for all of us.”

After she’d gone, Kjell stretched out on the bed beside Lid-die, careful to keep his boots over the side. He pulled her into his arms and held her for a long while. “I love you, Liddie. I love you so very much.”

“I know you do. I can feel that love in ways that I never knew before marrying you,” Lydia replied softly. “I never even knew what it was to really love another until you came into my life. I find that I care for you more and more every day . . . and sometimes it really frightens me.”

Kjell lifted her face to his. “Don’t be afraid. God is our Father and the keeper of our days. We needn’t fear.”

She nodded and stretched to press her lips to his mouth. Kjell lost himself in the moment and kissed her with a passion that he’d not expected. It seemed to surprise Lydia, as well. Shaking her head, she grinned. “You are very good at that.”

He laughed. “I intend to get much better with practice.”

Marston Gray had let word get around of his departure for home. He had left the company of the priest and chosen instead to take up residence in a small shack, well away from the town proper. The Sidorovs had found the place, and with Marston’s money, they had purchased it. It had set him back fifty dollars, but he still had plenty of the cash he’d brought to Alaska, at least enough to see to his plans for Lydia and the child.

Writing a letter to his brother, Marston suggested that Mitchell arrange for all of Lydia’s records to be removed from Mr. Robinson’s office. The obvious way to hide such a theft would be by a fire— and perhaps Mr. Robinson could “accidently” die in the fire. That way, there would be no suspicion.

He continued by telling his brother he felt this was critical in order to make his plan work. If Robinson were dead, no one would know of Lydia’s whereabouts or her pregnancy. He smiled to himself at the news that had reached him only three days earlier: She had given birth to a son. A Gray son.

Marston tossed back a bit of brandy before continuing to write. He informed Mitchell that plans were well underway to see things made right. Lydia might not be returning with him, but he would bring the infant.

Thinking of the future, Marston put down the pen and considered what was yet to be done. He figured to wait until the new year. This would give the child time to grow and give Lydia time to lower her guard. No doubt word had gotten back to them that Marston was gone. He’d left a letter for them with the priest, informing him that he should have it delivered once he’d set sail.

Of course, when the ship left, it went without Marston, but the priest didn’t know that. And with Christmas celebrations and church services pending, the priest would be too busy to concern himself with why Marston had left in such a hurry. At least that was Marston’s hope.

“You wanted to see us?” Anatolli questioned. He and Ioann stood at the door to Marston’s tiny room.

“Yes, I do. Stoke the fire, and I will join you in a moment.” He checked to make sure the ink on the letter was dry before folding the pages. Securing the missive in his coat pocket, Marston made his way to join the Sidorovs. It was time to share his idea and plot the future.

Christmas had been a simple but joyous affair at the Lindquist house. Kjell had given Lydia a beautiful necklace of Russian silver that had once belonged to his mother. Zerelda had made them both a new sweater, and baby Dalton was given a lovely quilt that was just his size.

Lydia felt bad that she had no gifts to exchange. Both her aunt and husband assured her, however, that the baby was blessing enough.

She understood their sentiment. Dalton was her own precious gift. The baby gave her such joy, such hope for the future, that Lydia had finally started to forget her ugly past. Now on the dawning of a new year, she felt that her life had changed for the better. Marston was gone, telling them in a letter that he wished them well. Lydia didn’t believe his warm sentiments, but she was glad he was gone just the same. Life had finally eased back to one of peace and contentment.

“Happy New Year,” Zerelda said, joining Lydia in the living room. “It’s snowing again, I see.”

“I noticed it earlier,” Lydia replied. “Such beautiful flakes.”

“It probably won’t stay long, but it might. I thought I’d go to the Ranche and visit some of the Tlingits. Would you want me to bring you anything from town?”

“If they have fruit, I would love some. It’s the one thing I really miss from my life in Missouri.”

“I’ll do what I can, but it will no doubt be canned or dried.”

“I don’t much care, so long as it’s fruit.” Lydia looked at the cradle and her sleeping son. “Otherwise, I think we have everything we need.”

“Kjell did a nice job on that bed.” Zerelda gave it a gentle rock. “I’ve never seen anything move so smoothly. He’s quite handy, that husband of yours.”

Lydia smiled up at her aunt. “I think so. I think, in fact, he’s very nearly perfect.”

This amused Zerelda. “I think it’s too soon to tell that, although I have known the man for many years.”

“Well, he’s perfect for me. I know now what I missed out on all of those years.”

“Just don’t dwell on the past,” Zerelda cautioned.

Lydia shook her head. “I don’t intend to. I’m happy to say that the memories fade a little more each day. Each time I take Dalton in my arms, each day I care for him, he seems to restore a part of me.”

“I suppose I shall only know such feelings for myself through you.” Zerelda’s thoughtful words caused Lydia to frown, but she quickly admonished her niece. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m happy with my life. I’m content in the work God has called me to do. Being single allows me to focus on others. I don’t regret that calling.”

“I hope not,” Lydia replied. “I don’t want you to ever feel alone or unloved. I know I would never have survived my marriage with Floyd had I not had your letters and love.”

Zerelda gently touched Lydia’s face. “You are more a daughter to me than a niece, and I find great joy in that. Even now, I feel as proud as any mother and grandmother might feel—I’m certain of it. You have been a blessing to me, and I look forward to this new year as I have no other.”

Lydia nodded. “I feel the same. The bad times are behind us now. We can look to the future with great joy and hope.”

Chapter 18

February 1871

I
t’s going to be a bad one,” Zerelda said, noting the building storm on the horizon. “I’m going to secure the last of the shutters.”

“I hope Kjell will get home before it comes,” Lydia said. “I wouldn’t want him to be traveling when the storm hits.”

“He knows this place better than I do. He won’t take foolish chances.”

“Yes, but he’s also trying to get that lumber order in for the army post. He may not even pay attention to what’s happening with the weather.”

Zerelda pulled on her coat. “I’m sure Joshua will keep him apprised. Besides, I’ve never known Kjell to be risky in his work.” She opened the door just as the wind picked up and moaned down through the trees. “I’ll be right back.”

Lydia shivered. She didn’t like the sound of the coming storm.

What if Kjell got hurt on the way home? She glanced at the cuckoo clock on the wall. He should have been back by now. What was keeping him?

Forcing herself to focus on something else, Lydia picked up her knitting. Zerelda had been working with her to make another blanket for Dalton. Lydia sat in the rocking chair and began to knit.

The door blew open with a great gust of wind, and Zerelda came in with it. Lydia jumped, and the fire in the hearth danced wildly until her aunt managed to close the door.

“It’s turned bitterly cold out there,” Zerelda said, shaking her head. “Mercy, but my hands feel like they’re frozen.”

“Come get warm,” Lydia encouraged. “There’s nothing more we can do now.”

The older woman nodded and stood before the fire without bothering to take off her coat. “I hope we’re not in for a hard winter.

Sometimes it’s like that. One year we had two feet of snow and the cold seemed to last forever.”

“We had a lot of ice storms in Kansas City. Snow, too, but the ice was far worse. Nothing could remain upright when it was bad.

Even the horses would lose their footing.”

“I’m glad we don’t have to deal with that here. We get some ice fog and pelts of ice on occasion, but usually it doesn’t layer us with the stuff.” She held her hands out to the fire. “I’m sure glad Kjell put the extra wood on the porch. I think I’d probably better bring a bunch of it in before it starts to rain or snow.”

“Kjell can get it when he gets home.”

“But it might start up before then. The way the wind is blowing, the porch won’t offer much protection.”

Lydia nodded. “Then I’ll help. With the two of us at it, we’ll get it done in half the time.”

“And then we can sit and drink something hot and sample those cookies you made earlier.”

They hurried to get the work done. The wind was merciless, and more than once, Lydia thought it might well knock her to the porch floor. She staggered under the load of logs, bending as much as possible to buffer herself from the icy air.

At one point, Zerelda paused and cocked her ear to one side as if she could hear something. Lydia looked at her aunt questioningly.

“I think I heard a horse.”

Lydia laughed and reached for another log. “I can hardly hear you speak. I don’t know how you can hear anything, but I’m glad for it. That means Kjell will soon be here.”

“Or it’s just our little gelding protesting his meager stable. Come on. I think we have enough wood. I’ll get some coffee on.” She held the door for Lydia and followed her into the house. Securing the door, Zerelda began to peel off her coat. “Goodness, but I’ll be glad to snuggle down in my covers tonight.”

Lydia laughed and deposited the last of the wood by the fireplace. “Me too.” She dusted her hands. “Is there something I can help with in the kitchen?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m going to stoke up the stove fire and put on a pot of coffee. You go back to your knitting. At this rate, Dalton is going to need all the blankets he can get.”

Taking her place once again, Lydia began to work on the piece. She liked the added warmth of the blanket spread out over her lap. The chill of the night air gradually faded as her body thawed by the fire. Soon Kjell would be with them, and all would be well.

“I heard in town today that the Presbyterians are sending some missionaries up here,” Zerelda said as she returned from the kitchen. “I’m excited to say that they hope to start a school for the native children and have a church.”

“That would be wonderful,” Lydia replied. “I know how you worry about the Tlingits and their children.”

Zerelda took a seat opposite Lydia by the fire. “Education is so important, and few whites have the training or patience to deal with natives. They’ve been treated so unfairly at times. I don’t blame those who run away to the other side of the island. I only hope the army will leave them alone.”

“I suppose they will if the Tlingit leave the army alone.”

“It doesn’t work that way. For some reason seeing natives free to live on their own seems to really disturb our government. I saw it in Oregon, as well. Their preference is to have the Indians caged up like animals. They set up reservations and stockades, promising them a better life, but it’s not better in the eyes of the natives.”

“But aren’t they dangerous? I was always hearing stories about Indian uprisings back in Kansas City. It seemed all sorts of problems were taking place on the plains and to the west.”

“There is good and bad in every people,” Zerelda answered, “but it has been my experience that the whites have taken it upon themselves to determine where the boundaries should be. They set the rules for how everyone should live and work, what kind of clothes and religion they should practice. They don’t believe we can live in peace together.”