Poppy: Bride of Alaska (American Mail-Order Bride 49) (5 page)

Poppy shrugged and looked out the window again, trying to peer through the wind-swept splatters. “I’ve wanted to go to Alaska for as long as I can remember, I don’t really care what the weather’s like. I even have a scrapbook for my cuttings, mostly from John Muir’s reports.”

“Ah, John. He’s an eccentric old rascal. Wild as the territory itself, but a talented wordsmith.”

A thrill set the hairs on Poppy’s arms on end. “You know him?”
 

“Of course,” she sniffed. “He stayed with the General and myself in Fort Wrangell in ’79, when he first came up our way. I’ll never forget how he introduced himself to our little community.”

Eddie chuckled low, her eyes taking on a faraway look as she remembered. Not wanting to miss a single word of the story, Poppy leaned in so close she could smell the rosewater the old woman was wearing.

“There we were, a ragtag group of soldiers, miners and Tlingits—“

“Klink-its?” Poppy interrupted.

“That’s the local Indian up that way. Spelled T-L-I-N-G-I-T but pronounced ‘klink-it’. No idea why.”

Images of dark-skinned natives wrapped in beautiful hand-woven blankets flashed before Poppy’s eyes. The cuttings in her scrapbook were black and white, but she could almost see the copper of their skin, the blue-black of their shining hair, and the bright, earthy colors of their blankets. Excitement was quickly replacing the anger she felt toward Matthew…almost.

“Anyway, this one night in July, word came to us that the Tlingits were getting agitated by lights in the sky. Honestly, I didn’t know that the problem was. The auroras flash all the time up there. But our friend Reverend Young was having a devil of a time calming them down.”

“Something was different about these lights.” It was a statement, not a question. That eyebrow of Eddie’s shot up again.

“Very astute, Poppy. Indeed, these lights were turning the clouds around Mt. Dewey a bright, ominous orange. I saw them with my very own eyes and it was a sight to see, let me tell you. I wasn’t as worried as our Tlingit residents but the lights were quite fearsome. And none of us could explain them, which terrified the natives even more.”

Curiosity itched inside Poppy.
 

“What caused them?”

Eddie burst out laughing.
 

“That devil, John! He was up on the mountain and saw a storm coming in so he built a big, roaring fire. We couldn’t see the flames from town, but they lit up the underside of the clouds like they were ablaze. Of course, we didn’t discover this until he came into town a few days later and heard all about the ruckus. That was quite an introduction, let me tell you!”

Poppy couldn’t help but laugh with Eddie. She was bold and brash and overly loud, and exactly the type of woman Poppy hoped she would be in her older years.
 

“Was the Reverend Young you mentioned the same one that traveled with Mr. Muir to Glacier Bay, where they discovered the Muir Glacier.”

“Pish!” Eddie waved at her like she was a gnat. “John and Samuel didn’t discover that glacier, young lady. They just had the luck to be the first white men to see it. Everyone seems to forget that the Tlingits ‘discovered’ all of this eons before we stumbled along. Even John thought he’d done something special, and that made for some lively dinner discussions, let me tell you.”

They lapsed into silence while Poppy digested this bit of information. She had to admit that she’d never given much thought to the Indians, and how they’d thrived in Alaska for untold generations before the first white explorers arrived. Yet without men like John Muir, the rest of the world might never have known such a wondrous place even existed.

“Probably would have been better for the Indians,” sniffed Eddie when Poppy voiced her thoughts. “The General and I were among the first of our kind to settle in Alaska, you know. Well, aside from the Russians. But let me tell you, the Tlingits were much different than they are now. They had fire in their bellies back then, some real fight, but we broke them. Now some men will tell you that we helped civilize those poor creatures, but I disagree. Seems to me they were doing just fine without our ‘help’.”

It was Eddie’s turn to gaze wistfully out the window. “That’s a funny word, ‘civilized’. If we were so civilized, would we let our own children die in the street of starvation? It’s a sight I’ve seen with my very own eyes.”

Poppy had, too — in her very own neighborhood, in fact.

“I don’t know,” Eddie continued, “I’ve just seen too much in this life to think there’s only one way to live. Take the French. They eat
grasshoppers
but you don’t hear anyone calling them uncivilized!”

The conversation was moving in a decidedly grim direction, so Poppy changed the subject.
 

“Are you going back to Wrangell, Eddie?”

“Oh, heavens no, child! You’ll understand why when we land there, if the weather is good enough to disembark, that is. Even if it is, I’d recommend against it. It’s nothing but a depressing mudhole now, filled with drunken miners and desperate Indians. No, I make my home in Sitka now.”

How wonderful! Poppy hadn’t even made it to Canada yet and she already had a friend to call on.
 

“That’s where I’m going!”

“Splendid! I’ll have you and your husband over for tea. Won’t that be grand?”

At the mere mention of Matthew, the burn of betrayal swelled inside her again. Chatting with Eddie had almost made Poppy forget she was saddled with a lying man — was there any other kind? — at least until they landed in Sitka. Maybe she could shake him then.
For now, just pretend all is well.

“Oh, yes. That would be lovely.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Trouble in paradise?”

Nothing got past Eddie. It was all Poppy could do to not spill her secrets to her new friend, but trust didn’t come naturally to her. Besides, it wasn’t as if the woman could help.
 

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Of course you are, dear,” Eddie said, patting Poppy’s knee. “Just remember, men are like guns.”

Was the old woman losing her wits? Poppy could only stare at her blankly.

“You have one around long enough, you’re gonna want to shoot it.”

* ~ * ~ *

Not even the gloomy skies outside could dim Poppy’s radiance when she tipped her head back and laughed at whatever the matron in black had said. Reddish-brown curls framed her oval face, bobbing merrily as she chuckled. From across the saloon, Matthew wondered what it would feel like to make her laugh like that. He loathed the idea of interrupting them because there was no doubt she’d stop smiling as soon as she saw him, and a part of him yearned to see that smile all the time.

She certainly hadn’t been smiling at him when she caught him by surprise in his — no,
their
— stateroom earlier. Well, her lips were turned up in the most frightening imitation of a smile he’d ever witnessed. It could only have been more fearsome if her teeth had been sharpened to points because she would have torn him to shreds. As it was, her words did a fine job.

“You look surprised,
darling
,” she’d sneered as the porter easily slid her bag in the overhead rack. She was dressed in a new blue dress that accentuated her beautiful eyes and even lovelier figure, a winter coat slung over her arm. Five dollars was a fair price for a coat, but to squeeze a dress out of it, too, was impressive.

But the tip she handed the man was double what Matthew would have paid at the best of times. Where had she got the money to tip so handsomely? There couldn’t have been any left over from her advance.

Oh, right. The money he’d left with the ticket agent. The world turned red. Once the purser had closed the door, Matthew wheeled on her.
 

“Is that my money?”

Poppy was the very image of innocence, acting as if she was speaking to a slow child.
 

“Why no, dear. It’s
my
money. It might have been yours once, but you decided to give it to me to ease your guilty conscience.”

Matthew clenched his teeth so hard he thought they might shatter.
 

“How dare you throw it around like that! That was meant to help you get a head start!”

Defiance replaced fake innocence.
 

“And it will. In Sitka. In fact, I daresay it will go much further up there than it would have in Seattle. Quite generous of you, really.”

Matthew sighed and raked a hand through his hair. This wasn’t going as planned at all. She’d won. All the gruff slipped out of him.
 

“How…?”

“How did I know the ship was scheduled to leave at eight instead of ten, as you told me?”

Shame colored his face and he couldn’t look her in the eye.

“I trust you as much as I do any other man, Matthew. Which is to say, not at all. During my shopping yesterday, I stopped by the ticket agent and discovered the truth. Sadly, you lived up — or should I say
down
— to my expectations.”

The color that had filled his face a moment earlier drained away. Fire danced in her eyes but there was something else, too. It was fleeting but unmistakable.

Pain.

“Poppy, the last thing I wanted to do was mislead or hurt you—“

Her disdainful snort was a knife to his heart. As difficult as she was, his intentions had been noble…sort of. Couldn’t she see that?

“Hurt me? You? Don’t make me laugh, Matthew. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to enjoy the view from the saloon. I trust I won’t see you there.”
 

And there she was, right where she said she’d be. And Matthew was once again defying her wishes. As much as it hurt to acknowledge, maybe she wasn’t so wrong about him after all. Still, the need to resolve their argument pressed upon his soul like a pile of bricks. Steeling himself, he strode over to the women, working hard to keep his pace even, despite the pitching of the ship.
 

“Good morning, ladies,” he said with a cordial smile toward the other woman, noting that Poppy’s immediately fell away. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Mrs. General Jameson Charles Westchester the third. Given name Edith Poppy, but my friends call me Eddie. My enemies, too, for that matter.”

She grinned up at him for a moment, cast a sideways glance at Poppy, then winked at him.
 

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a bartender to befriend.”

“May I?” he asked Poppy, pointing to the vacated seat, once Mrs. Westchester had hobbled off toward the bar. She shrugged and turned to the window, closed off and infuriating. If she would just hear him out, maybe he could make her understand. Clenching his jaw, he sat with a sigh.
 

“Poppy, I’m s—“

“Stop right there, Matthew.” She turned to him, a storm brewing in her eyes as fierce as the one they were steaming through, but her voice cool. “I don’t need an apology. I don’t need an explanation. Besides, I’m not really your wife, so you owe me neither. As you said in your ad, ‘Must have skills to support oneself.’ That’s what you asked for and that’s what you got.”

What was she talking about? As usual, she confused and confounded him. Also as usual, she read his face like a book.
 

“I can take care of myself, and I proved it to you today by not taking your word.”

Shame burned his face for the umpteenth time that day. He hated liars and, in his quest for Vinchenko, that’s exactly what he’d become. He’d lied to Horton and now he’d lied to Poppy. When would it end?
 

When you decide to stop.

“Listen—“

“No, you listen—“

“No!” he growled, fed up with her interruptions and high-handedness. She blinked in surprise but finally — blessedly — closed her mouth. “It’s my turn.”

She looked like a pouting child the way she crossed her arms in a huff and refused to meet his gaze, but at least she was going to let him speak. He’d take what he could get.

“I’m sorry. I’m not sorry because you caught me, I’m sorry because I treated you poorly. At the time, I tried to talk myself into thinking you’d be better off in Seattle, but I now realize I was only thinking of myself and how having you come with me would mean I would be responsible for you.”

Her eyes wavered toward him, just for a flash, so he pressed on.
 

“I have a duty to my family, and I swore to do whatever it takes to honor my promise as long as innocents weren’t hurt in the process. Yesterday, I hurt you, disappointed myself, and dishonored my family. I’m truly sorry.”

The silence grew between them until it was so taut an aerialist could walk across it. Poppy just stared out the window while Matthew stared at her. Air burned in his lungs and he realized he was holding his breath, hoping for her forgiveness. But it was no use. She wouldn’t soften, and he couldn’t blame her. Letting his breath out with a sigh, he stood to leave her alone.

“Fine,” she mumbled so quietly he nearly didn’t hear her.

“Pardon?”

Matthew’s stomach flip-flopped when Poppy turned her limpid eyes on him. The effect she had on him was unnerving. He almost forgot the hate that had been brewing inside him. A part of him wished she hadn’t been so smart and sniffed out his lie, despite his apology, because he couldn’t afford to lose that fire.

“I forgive you, Matthew, if only to make this trip less stressful. I’m bound and determined to enjoy as much of it as possible, and holding onto anger colors things terribly. So I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” Matthew gulped as he turned to leave, relieved that they could at least be friendly.
 

Maybe more than friendly
, a voice whispered in his head. They would be sharing a stateroom for five days, after all. Anything could happen…

No!
There was no time for such nonsense, despite how eagerly his body reacted to the thought. He needed to focus.

“Oh, and Matthew?”
 

“Yes?” he said, keeping his face turned away. A battle was brewing inside him and her observant eyes would spot it right away.