Snow Angel (11 page)

Noah rolled back over toward the clock, hoping the hands had moved more than five minutes, which was all they had moved the last two times he'd checked. He finally decided he should end this misery and get up. The time was a quarter till four, and he swore silently to himself. This just wasn't working. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks. Getting up, he pulled on his pants, lit the lantern, and looked scornfully at the bed. The sheets and quilt were in a rumpled ball hanging precariously off one end. The floor around the bed was strewn with clothes, and when his gaze reached the kitchen, his frown turned to a scowl. Unwashed dishes were piled up in three pails, large portions of uneaten, dried food sticking to them. Tools were lying around pell-mell wherever he had last used them. The wooden floor was no longer a golden honey color, but muddy brown. Books were everywhere, taken down for a momentary distraction and then tossed to the floor or on the growing piles on the sofa when that hadn't worked. His cabin was a disaster! Never in his life had he let things go like this. Where was the discipline that he'd honed to a science? What was wrong with him?

Swinging around, he stalked to the washstand and plunged his fingers into the bowl to splash his face. His fingertips hit the thin layer of solid ice on the bottom and he growled in frustration. He hadn't filled the bowl from his fresh water barrel before going to bed, so the leftover had just frozen up, being so shallow. He gripped the edges of the bowl in frustration. He felt like slugging something. He'd hit the wall if his fingers weren't already throbbing. Looking up into the oval mirror, he caught a glimpse of himself in the lantern light. There was a month's growth of beard on his face. He'd worn a beard before, but it had never looked this shabby. There were bags under his bloodshot eyes and his hair was longer than it had ever been. He didn't think he had ever looked worse. Heck, he was starting to look like an old sourdough. When he thought of what a well-weathered Alaskan (a.k.a. a sourdough) looked like, he almost laughed, but he decided to scowl at himself instead. It better suited his mood.

Walking over to the window, he tugged rather ruthlessly at his beard and sighed. He knew what was causing the problem, and working himself to exhaustion each day was no longer helping. It had barely been a month since his last visit, but he missed her. Just the thought of her face filled him with longing. The icicles were even now dripping from his roof. Spring was just around the corner. If he waited a little longer, just a couple of weeks, the next time he made the trip he could bring her home.

Shrugging into his coat, he spent five minutes looking for his ax and finding it, headed out into the darkness. He gave the enormous woodpile, stacked to the roof around two walls of his cabin, a rebellious glare. So he already had enough wood to last
months. He would chop more. The grueling physical labor was his only hope for sleep later. He wouldn't stop until every tree on his property was cut down if need be. Swinging the ax to his shoulder, he trudged into the woods.

Two hours later Noah had worked off enough steam to go back to the cabin. If nothing else, he knew he had to take care of the animals. After gathering up the supplies and food, he made it to the barn, congratulating himself that he hadn't thought of
her
since he'd left the cabin that morning. He shook his head at himself as he watched the dogs wolf down their meat. He was thinking about her again. Nothing worked for very long. Sitting down among his sled dogs, Noah took some comfort in their rambunctious presence.

It hadn't been too bad when he'd first come back. Jacko had still been there, and he had hung around for a few more days, teasing Noah unmercifully about Elizabeth but keeping the loneliness at bay. Once Jacko was gone, a heaviness had settled over him. Noah had never felt so lonely in all his life, and he'd been alone for so long. He just couldn't figure it out. She had only been with him a few weeks, and yet in that time she'd destroyed his life. Yep, that's what she had done all right, destroyed the peace and the disciplined routine that he had prided himself on. With sudden insight, he realized he had thought himself better somehow than other men who weren't complete without a woman. He'd wanted a wife someday, but he hadn't ever really
needed
one before. Sitting on the floor with his knees up, he dropped his head onto his arms and faced the truth. Now, God help him, now he couldn't even eat for thinking about her. He wanted her in every way … friend … lover … soul mate. It was an ache that wouldn't go away and
gnawed at him every waking moment. He prayed, he ranted to God, but God had been strangely quiet. So what was he going to do about it? He couldn't go on like this. A man couldn't live on chopping wood for the rest of his life. Confound that woman, she'd ruined him. She had broken him into little pieces of clay, and she wasn't even around to appreciate her handiwork. Shelby licked him on the top of his head, causing Noah to look up and rub his lead dog's face affectionately.

“What should I do, girl?”

Shelby just stared at him with her pretty blue eyes.

“Well, I can't go on like this,” he said. “I need to see her.” He didn't understand the hold Elizabeth had over him, but he finally recognized that he wanted her home with him—for good.

Once the decision was made, Noah felt like a load had been lifted off his shoulders. He once again had purpose, meaning, and energy poured through him. Later today he would take the goat and dogs to his nearest neighbors, a Tlingit camp, for safekeeping. Then he would pack up his meager stack of furs and light out for Juneau in the morning. Now to clean the cabin. He might just be bringing his woman home, and the place had to be spotless.

* * *

IN THE DARK quiet of her room, Elizabeth folded the notes carefully and laid them on her pillow. They were brief, saying only that she had to leave, without any real explanation. If there was one thing she really regretted, it was having to depart before the baby was born. She owed Will and Cara so much
more than that. It saddened her to have to leave just when they needed her most. Sighing, she scooped up the bedroll stuffed with her belongings and crept quietly toward the door.

She had pleaded a headache after slipping out to find her errand boy and had remained in her room the rest of the evening. Cara, thoughtful and kind as always, had brought up a tray with her dinner and inquired as to how she was doing. Elizabeth knew Will probably told her about the strange incident with Ross, but she'd successfully convinced her that she just wasn't feeling well, or so she hoped. When Cara left, Elizabeth had written the notes and quietly worked on getting herself ready to leave. If her plan worked as expected, she hoped to be on her way out of Juneau by early morning.
Good 'ol Charlie
had better come through,
she thought.

Creeping down the stairs, she silently made her way to the wide wooden counter where she lit a lone candle in a decorative pewter candlestick. Softly, she let her stuffed bedroll slide to the floor and ducked under the bar flap to get behind the counter. She would need all the tools of her trade, and she was in the right place to get them. She pulled out a common list of miners' supplies and scanned it. It was a staggering list—warm clothes, blankets, handkerchiefs, hats, boots, mittens, and gloves. Then there was the food—pounds and pounds of beans, bacon, flour, oats, corn meal, tea, coffee, sugar, salt, and on and on. And that wasn't even taking into consideration all the metal tools she would need. Elizabeth sighed heavily. She wouldn't make it three feet with such a load. To cross over the Canadian border, miners were required to bring enough supplies to last a year. Some said a
ton
of provisions. The edict prevented thousands from dying of starvation when they became locked in for
the winter with little to no fresh supplies coming in. But now was not the time to buy supplies like that. She would buy the additional supplies later, when she was closer to the Canadian border. For now, she would just have to take as much of the list as she could. She reached up on a shelf and took down a brown canvas pack. Quickly, and as quietly as possible with the metal pieces clanking together, she filled her bag with a gold pan, pick, hammer, moose-skin pouch (to hold the gold), beans, salt pork, sugar, coffee, tea, flour, rice, baking powder, salt, candles, matches, a canteen, medicines such as morphine and calomel, soap, and toiletries. Walking to the other end of the counter, she picked out the warmest blanket she could find, a highly prized Chilkat blanket of mountain-goat wool and cedar bark made by the Tlingit Indians. It would cost her extra, but she knew it would keep her warm during the cool spring nights ahead. Chewing on the inside of her lip in concentration, she added some tobacco and corn whiskey, which would be valuable for trade and didn't take up much room.

“Elizabeth? What on earth are you doing?”

She jumped, hitting her head on the inside of a shelf.

Turning swiftly, Elizabeth gasped to see Cara at the bottom of the stairs looking at her in innocent confusion. She didn't know what to say. How could she lie outright to Cara? What could she possibly say to explain her actions? They were obvious enough.

Cara seemed to come to the same conclusion in the ensuing silence. “Are you … leaving us?”

There was alarm and even hurt in her voice. Oh, why did she have to be so kind and make this so hard? Why couldn't she be evil and mean and heartless like Margaret?

Elizabeth gazed into the kind eyes and nearly blurted out the entire tale, but she stopped herself. Looking down at the mining equipment in her hands, she shrugged and said as carelessly as she could manage, “I've been bored lately. I didn't want to tell you and Will because I knew you would only try and talk me out of it, but I've decided it's time to move on. I have gold fever real bad, Cara, and if I don't go soon, there won't be any left.” The words rang falsely in her own ears, but she looked almost desperately at Cara, hoping she would accept them.

“I see.” She obviously didn't see. Elizabeth watched her stand there and struggle with a myriad of emotions. “I suppose I should be glad this child gets me up in the middle of the night as it does,” she said softly, her hand gliding over her rounded stomach, and then her words trailed off into a little sob as she continued, “or I wouldn't have even gotten to say goodbye.” She tried to hold back the cry with the back of her hand.

Elizabeth couldn't bear to see her like this and rushed over to her, straight into Cara's arms, tears forming in her own eyes. “Oh, Cara, I'm so sorry. I just couldn't bear to say goodbye. I can hardly endure leaving at all.”

Cara gripped her by the shoulders with surprising strength and leaned back to look directly into her eyes. “Why must you go? Something's happened, I know it has. Something to do with that man who upset you yesterday. Please, Elizabeth, whatever it is, tell me. Let us help you.”

Elizabeth pulled away and walked over to the counter, distancing herself from the temptation. She placed her clasped hands on the counter and leaned over them for a moment, wavering. “I can only tell you that I have to go. I can't tell you where or why.” Turning toward Cara, she pleaded, “Please,
if you really care about me, you'll pretend you didn't see this. You have to let me leave, Cara.”

“What about Noah? I know you love him. Are you just going to just walk away and never see him again?”

Elizabeth felt her words, knew them as truth, knew them for the monumental choice they represented. Cara wasn't going to make this easy, proving once again how much she cared. Walking back over to her best friend, Elizabeth clasped her hands and said softly, with as much sincerity as she could force into her voice, “Noah is a good man, Cara, and he has done a lot for me. I'm in his debt, yes, and I feel gratitude and affection for him. But …” She swallowed, making her final decision in that moment. “I don't love him and nothing can ever come of it.”

She squeezed Cara's hands momentarily, “I left two notes on my pillow, one for you and Will and one for Noah. Please, I'm begging you to go back to bed and forget you saw me here tonight. Find those notes in the morning, as late as possible, and give me time to leave. I don't want anyone following me.”

“You ask a great deal. How do I know that you are doing what is best for you?”

Cara was almost in tears again and Elizabeth hugged her briefly.

“You don't. But you have to believe that if there was another way, I would take it. I'll be safe, I promise. Please … let me go.”

After a tense moment, Elizabeth could feel Cara nod against her shoulder. She almost broke down completely when Cara lifted her head and said, “At least let me help you pack.”

They finished the job silently together, Cara giving all that Elizabeth would take and refusing the money Elizabeth
had planned to leave for the supplies. She embraced Elizabeth fiercely and then helped her into her coat. Cara's parting words were ones that Elizabeth knew she would always remember and cherish. “You are welcome back here anytime, no matter what. I love you, my dearest girl.”

Elizabeth turned and stumbled out into the cold, dark night, forcing her reluctant feet to keep moving. Gathering the tattered shreds of her resolve, she hoisted her pack over her shoulder and trudged through slushy snow toward the Hawk Eye Saloon, where she thought to find Charlie McKay.

Working at the post had been the best place Elizabeth could have chosen to find out the latest happenings of the community. After filling an extensive order for Charlie this afternoon, he had rambled about his most recent job. Charlie, as she had discovered, was a guide for hire and even a packer when needed. A packer's job was more strenuous than any other Elizabeth could imagine. The Chilkoot Pass, one of the only routes over the mountains and into the Yukon Territory, was impossible for dogs or horses to navigate in most weather. Many of the Indians and men like Charlie would hire out their backs to haul, in several trips, the miner's provisions to the top of the pass. Further down the trail, along the banks of the Yukon River, entire Indian families worked for pennies per pound packing supplies down the trails for those who chose to portage their supplies instead of risk the rapids.