Snow Angel (15 page)

The preacher pried his pork off the spit, burned on the side closest to the fire, and looked hopefully into the skillet tilting precariously on a log. Elizabeth looked at the bread in the skillet and sighed with relief. At least one thing had turned out. Using her skirt, she gripped the handle of the skillet and pulled it off the fire. The large white pancake was lightly brown on either side and looked wonderful. It even smelled good. Taking her pocketknife out of her pocket, the one she had stolen from Noah, she attempted to cut it like a pie. She grimaced. It was a little harder than it looked. With determination she tried again until there were four big pieces broken off. Stony faced, she passed out the bread and watched while Charlie, the twins, and William Cleary tried to chew.

It was too much. With tears rising to her eyes, she fled down the hill and into the edge of Dyea. The last thing she heard was Charlie saying, “Well, boys, can any of you cook?”

* * *

Ross Brandon glared out the window of the bakery. She'd tricked him. He should have known she wouldn't show up. After a few carefully posed questions, he learned she had disappeared two nights ago. His head pounded. Rage flowed through his body in a pulsing throb that he felt in his temple. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to smash the shop's only window with his elegantly gloved hand. He wanted to put those black gloves against the creamy skin of her throat and squeeze. He calmed himself by imagining it. Composing his features, Ross turned and asked the stout woman behind the counter, “Madam, you said she worked at the trading post? Was she very close to the owners?”

The woman's round face lit up. “Oh, yes. She was like a daughter to them.” She frowned distractedly. “Or maybe a younger sister. Will and Cara are young folks themselves.” She cocked her head. “Though Will may be in his late thirties by now. But in any case, they were very close.”

“You have no idea why she might have left?” He paused and added silkily, “Or where she might have gone?”

The woman just shook her head. “I'm sorry, young man. I don't have any idea … Wait a minute …” She gazed at
the far wall for a moment. “She did have another close friend, Noah Wesley. He's the fellow that brought her here. Lives out of town, on the mountain. One of the first here, I believe.” She smiled. “I thought there might be a romance going on between them, but I don't know now. It seems not.”

Ross clenched his hands into fists and tried to conceal his impatience. “Would she have gone to this Wesley's place? Do you know where it is?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head until her brown curls bounced. “I don't know exactly where his place is, but Will Collins would know. You go on over to the post, dear, they can answer all your questions over there.”

“Thank you, I will.” Ross turned to go. He would find Elizabeth Greyson and when he did she would pay dearly for this deception. No one had ever stood in the way of what he wanted, and a little slip of a woman, no matter how delectable, wasn't going to be the first. He would have his revenge and it would be sweet enough to make up for this trip into frozen hell. The knowledge he had of her real mother, Jane Greyson, searching for her long lost daughter sent thrills of excitement through him. Right before he watched the light of life die in her eyes, she would know who she really was, her real name, and how she'd never live to see the loving arms of her true family.

* * *

IT WAS GOOD to finally be underway. After questioning the bartender at the saloon where Elizabeth was last seen, Noah was sure she had been aboard
The Stars and Stripes
and was now in Skagway or Dyea. How she'd convinced old Charlie McKay to
take her with him, he would like to know, but at least she wasn't alone. He knew of Charlie's reputation and thought he would do well to watch over her.

Noah's gaze passed over the new sawmills along the banks as they steamed by and casually remarked to the boat's owner, Mr. Kawatuk, with a nod toward the bank, “That would be a good business to be in right now.”

The Indian grinned, showing big teeth, and nodded at his boat. “This is pretty good business now, too.”

Noah agreed. If he could get a message back to Will, he just might build a sawmill himself, closer to the diggings. He would rather make his money with a mill or some such enterprise. Panning seemed a hard, monotonous way to earn a dollar. He knew fortune hunters stood a better chance of making money from supplying the gold towns with goods and services than actually mining for gold. But speculating had its risks. He would have to check out the area when he got there. Gold rushes had short lives and those who got there first usually won the prize.

“We stop at Skagway first?” Mr. Kawatuk asked, interrupting Noah's reverie.

“Yes, but we may have to go on to Dyea. I'll scout around the town and then come back to let you know. You wait for me, OK?”

“Sure, I'll wait.”

The man had been pleasant and quiet during the trip, and Noah was glad. He was in no mood for idle conversation.

As Skagway came into view, Mr. Kawatuk steered the craft as close as he could to the shore. A small canoe paddled out and a boatman asked if they would like to pay for passage over to the docks. Noah accepted and the boatman settled in to wait.

The pier was quiet today, with only a few people milling around, but Noah could hear the commotion coming from the town. His boots rang out on the wooden planks of the dock.

A citified looking fellow walked up to him and said, “Mister, you just crossed a toll dock. That'll be fifty cents.”

Noah looked at the man as if he'd lost his mind. “A toll dock? You must be kidding me.”

“Nope. Soapy Smith, maybe you've heard of him, he owns this dock. He built it himself and expects people to pay for the use of it.”

“I've heard of him. You tell Mr. Smith that if he wants his fifty cents, he can come looking for me. Docks are public property in my book.”

The man's face turned red but he didn't say anything, just watched with sullen eyes as Noah walked away from him.

The town was nestled in a forested valley, with bluish-purple mountains shooting up above the tree line, the snow-filled crevices tracing white lines on the face of the rock. Things were turning muddy at ground level though. The streets were filled with a mixture of snow and ice and mud, forming ruts so deep a cart could hardly navigate the length of it. Noah watched in amazement as a team of four horses slid and skidded their way down the crowded thoroughfare.

He stopped and took his hat off, running his fingers through his hair, and studying the town, he sighed. He hardly knew where to begin the search, but one of the best places to hear gossip was in a saloon, and there must be over thirty saloons just along the main road. Noah lost count.

Replacing his hat, Noah started for the nearest saloon. Loud music and an awful smell hit him in the face as he walked
in. Noah had a fleeting desire to cover his nose with his shirt as the combined odors of unwashed men and filthy back alleys greeted him. Instead, he stepped up to the long mahogany counter. The place was well outfitted, with a huge mirror behind the bar. Tall cabinets with fancy beveled glass doors held rows of amber and dark-colored liquor. The stool he sat on was upholstered and there was even an iron footrest that ran the length of the bar. The bartender walked up looking pristine in his black suit coat, white shirt, and black string tie.

“What'll you be having, sir?” he asked politely.

Noah said, “I'm looking for someone who came over on
The Stars and the Stripes
about three days ago. A woman. You know of anyone aboard that ship?”

The man shook his head sternly. “I don't ask, and they don't tell me. I just serve drinks.”

Noah could tell this man wasn't going to help even if he could and wondered if this was one of Soapy Smith's establishments. Outsiders weren't allowed to ask questions in that organization.

After four more saloons had given him a similar response, Noah was beginning to feel genuine despair. He decided to take a different tack and question the patrons of the saloons instead of the employees. At the fifth saloon, he finally found a man who had been aboard the steamer and was well enough into his bottle to talk.

“Sure, I remember the lady. She was a pretty thing. I heard she was joined up with a party of Charlie McKay's, but I just remember seeing her with this set of twins. You don't see twins much, so they sorta stood out.”

“Did they get off here or go on to Dyea?”

The man's glazed eyes dazed off into the distance as if concentrating on the question. “Not sure, mister. But I didn't see them get off here, and I haven't seen them since. I'd guess they went on ahead.” He looked around the room and then whispered, “You haven't got a dollar you could spare, for the exchange of my information, so I could get some supper, would you?”

Noah dug in his pocket and handed the man a couple of bills. “Don't spend it all on liquor,” he advised. “Thanks for the answers.”

The man smiled wide at him. “Thank
you
, mister. Oh, I almost forgot. Somebody else was here yesterday asking about the same woman. Black hair, mustache. He seemed in a big hurry to find her, just like you.”

A day ahead of him. Noah nearly ran to the waiting boat.
Dear God, let her still be in Dyea and let me find her first.

It was almost dark when they arrived in Dyea. The sun was out longer now that it was spring, but it was still a long way from the twenty hours of daylight that graced their summer days. Noah didn't waste any time sightseeing in the stump-filled flatland of Dyea. The town had the same temporary, thrown-up-in-a-day kind of feeling that Skagway had, only it was a bit smaller. And like Skagway, it was full of men. Noah scouted around and finally found someone willing, for a price, to talk about Elizabeth and then take him to the place where she had camped. One thing was becoming very clear: it was relatively easy to track a pretty woman on a trail full of men. She didn't go unnoticed. The only problem was, if it was this easy for Noah to track her, it would be this easy for the man she appeared to be running from.

After searching the slope, Noah was satisfied she'd gone on with her group toward Dyea Canyon, then onto Sheep Camp. He went back to the little steamer for his provisions and then made a hasty camp on the outskirts of the town. Had she slept in this spot only nights ago? Was she really on this trail, about to tackle the Chilkoot Pass? She was headstrong and stubborn enough to try it, but he worried that she lacked the stamina. It would be hard on her. He would sleep a few hours and then follow. He hoped to catch up within two days if he pushed hard. Alone, he thought he could manage it.

* * *

The first few miles of the trail from Dyea had been on a wagon road through the forest and deceptively easy. The six in the party were each loaded down with supplies, as were the three packhorses—one led by Charlie, one with a twin, and the third led by Skookum. Elizabeth was packing equal shares as the men. Her lower back ached and her legs trembled with fatigue, but she was determined they wouldn't know it.

By midmorning they reached the Dyea Canyon. It was about two miles long and only wide enough to travel single file, hugging the cliff wall. Some places were almost completely blocked by trees, outcrops of roots, and boulders, which they scrambled and slipped their way through until the two miles seemed like an eternity. Sticks and brambles grabbed at Elizabeth's skirts until they were torn and ragged. Her old half-boots felt as thin as paper; she was sure they would fall to pieces around her stockinged feet at any moment. It was long past noon before they made it to the other side.

After the canyon, they plodded through a narrow trail, two steep mountains on either side. Elizabeth could look up and see a small patch of blue sky between the peaks. She took a deep
breath of the clean, cool air, thinking that Alaska was a land full of hidden treasure, continually awing her with its rugged beauty. It sure did challenge her strength though. She hadn't stretched the limits of her body this hard since the blizzard. Alaska was like a living, breathing force that was out to see what kind of mettle a person was made of. Elizabeth was determined to beat it or, more wisely, somehow make peace with it.

Finally, Charlie called a halt and Elizabeth sank thankfully down to the ground, throwing off the bedroll. Closing her eyes for a moment, she let her body go lax.

“Better hurry and eat, Elizabeth,” Josh said anxiously. “Charlie says we aren't stopping long. He wants to get to Sheep Camp before nightfall.”

Elizabeth roused herself into a sitting position. “I will. Thank you, Josh.”

Josh hunkered down next to her. “Ben and I could take some of your load for you, Elizabeth. Pardon me for saying it, but you're too small to be packing all that. Charlie must be a fool if he thinks you can pack as much as the rest of us.”

Elizabeth smiled tiredly at Josh. “Charlie didn't insist I pack all of this. I did.” After the cooking disaster Elizabeth was determined to prove her worth.

“Come on, Elizabeth,” Josh insisted, “Ben and I can easily lighten your load. No one else needs to know.”

Elizabeth saw the understanding in his eyes and sighed. It was hard to admit defeat, but she needed to be smart, not stubborn. “Thank you, Josh. I hope to be able to repay your kindness.”

Josh cocked his head to the side and grinned. “You already did on the steamer on the way over here. Ben may not know
what you did, but I figured it out. We probably wouldn't even be here now if it wasn't for you.”

The praise helped assuage her pride. Elizabeth handed him a piece of jerky and said with a half-grin, “I didn't cook it, I promise.”

While they ate in companionable silence, another group of travelers came into the little clearing. “Look,” Josh said pointing, “there's another woman in that group.”

Elizabeth smiled wryly and rolled her eyes. “You'd think we were an exotic animal the way you men go on when you see one of us.” She stood and dusted off her dull gray skirt as best she could. It didn't take this new woman long to approach her. She was tall and sturdy-looking, but pretty with chestnut-brown hair and wide green eyes.

“Hello.” She held out her hand briskly. “I'm Mary-Margaret Sinclair. You must be Elizabeth Smith.”

Elizabeth's eyes widened. “Yes, I am. How did you know that?”

Mary-Margaret shrugged. “There aren't that many of us, women that is, so it isn't too hard to hear about the others.” She frowned. “As a matter of fact, I heard there was a man looking for you. He was in Dyea asking questions.”

Elizabeth's heart skipped a beat. “Really? What did he look like?” She tried to remain calm under the woman's scrutiny, but Mary-Margaret was one of those commonsense types and hard to fool.

Her sharp eyes narrowed. “I don't know. I didn't see him. My new husband”—she pointed at a good-looking, dark-haired man with a long, droopy mustache—“Pierre told me about it. I'll ask him if you like.” Her mouth turned down
and she murmured, “He's certainly more of a gossip than I ever thought I'd see in a man.”

Elizabeth didn't know quite what to say to that, so she shrugged and smiled, feigning nonchalance. “Oh, no, don't ask him. It's probably no one I know.”

Mary-Margaret put her hands on her hips and stared pointedly at her. “If you need some help, you let me know. We women have to stick together out here.” She eyed Elizabeth up and down. “You're awfully small. What are your plans, anyway?”

Elizabeth bristled. She was getting pretty tired of everyone commenting on her size. Brown eyes flashing, she responded, “I was raised on the gold fields and know what I'm doing. I'm going to get a claim and pan like the rest of you.”

Mary-Margaret cocked her head to one side and grinned. “Just as long as you're determined.”

Elizabeth decided she might like her after all. Charlie whistled and she saw that her partners were gathering to leave. Turning to Mary-Margaret, she said, “I've got to go. It was good to meet you. I'll probably see you in Sheep Camp.” Turning, she slung her considerably lighter load unto her back and brought up the rear of their group.

The load on her back might have been lighter, but the load on her mind had grown much heavier. She hadn't let herself think or worry about Ross following her. She'd reasoned that if he had been watching her, he would have been on the steamer with her. She had carefully checked every face and knew he wasn't. He was on her trail, though, just a day or two behind. It wouldn't take him long to catch up, and then what? Her steps faltered just thinking about what he might do to her.
She couldn't let her mind run on like this or she'd never make it. She needed a plan.

Sheep Camp was a tent camp. White tents dotted the landscape like the patches of melting snow. It was tucked into a valley about a half mile wide with the Chilkoot Mountains looming in the background. The main street had the usual saloons, hotels, laundry services, and restaurants. The town had the same excited energy that Dyea had, but Elizabeth had lost her eagerness.

She had the night watch between two and four. It really wasn't necessary, but Charlie had insisted they keep up the habit. Elizabeth thought he was trying to keep the twins sober and out of the saloons. One was always assigned the ten-to-midnight shift and the other the midnight-to-two. They'd complained, but Charlie had given them a load of rubbish about how they were such good shots and it was the most dangerous time of night. Elizabeth knew that her shift was the most dangerous, with all the men staggering back to their tents in all displays of temper. She had borrowed a pair of pants and an old slouch hat to stuff her hair into, making her appear from a distance to be a man, or at least an older boy. William Cleary had turned out to be the hardest to convince of the need for her to wear pants. But Charlie and even Skookum had agreed that it was far wiser.

But would it be enough to fool Ross? If he could locate Charlie's party among the thousands of would-be prospectors, he might easily see through her disguise. She didn't have a ready solution except to keep moving as fast as she could. Tomorrow they would leave for the pass. Charlie had said it was a thousand-foot incline that shot straight into the sky. It was close, within four miles of Sheep Camp, so they could
be there in an hour or two. Now that she knew just how determined Ross was, she had to admit that eventually he would find her. She couldn't keep running forever. Her only hope was that inspiration would come, that she would know somehow what to say and what to do when that moment came.

In the meantime, she needed to get her hands on a good claim and some real gold. She imagined the shiny rocks in her hands. She'd heard men were finding up to four hundred dollars worth of gold in one pan. And it was all placer mining—panning—which she knew, which she could do alone. No one had yet found any hard-rock veins and so the big companies hadn't come thus far. She thought they might, eventually, but for now the creek beds were oozing with the kind of gold that could be picked up off the ground, and she was going to be one of the lucky ones. If she could just get her hands on a fortune's worth of gold, even a small fortune, everything would turn out all right. She knew it would.

* * *

NOAH WAS TIRED. He'd been in every saloon in Sheep Camp and hadn't found a trace of Elizabeth. Everyone was tight-mouthed as clams. He didn't know why or even how, but he suspected they were protecting her. While it irritated him that they wouldn't trust him, he was also glad. If they weren't telling him anything, then they weren't telling Ross anything either. Ross Brandon—thanks to a fellow in Dyea, he finally had a name to go with the picture in his mind.

Noah looked around him and couldn't believe where he was. He'd never had the slightest desire to make this awful
trek to the gold fields, and now just look at him. He was one of hundreds in a snake-like line that was climbing, heavily loaded with provisions, to the top of the Chilkoot Pass. It was a steep mountain, and if you wanted something at the top, you had to haul it there on your own back. Horses, mules, and dogsleds couldn't make it, especially in the slippery snow-and-mud mixture of spring thaw.

During the winter, some enterprising fellows had carved out a line of almost vertical steps in the hard-crusted snow, but now the bottom was a mess. Most had to carry a stick or pole to help maintain their footing and balance. Further up, where the air was colder and the ground still frozen, the makeshift stairs were in better shape. Midway, the men were jumping on the frozen stairs for the remainder of the trip to the top. A person was lucky to make three or four trips a day up and back, carrying sixty pounds of provisions, caching them at the top and then sliding back down for another trip. Noah had to hand it to Elizabeth—if she made it over this pass, she could do just about anything. It was his first trip up and his legs were burning, his lungs working hard. He didn't envy the packers, men who made pennies a pound doing this job for others. Noah thought they earned every cent of it.

When he finally made it to the top, he looked over the edge at the descent and groaned. It was steep and he wasn't fond of heights. Grooves in the snow, tunnels almost, existed for the men to slide back down to the bottom. He turned from the sight and watched the others at the top while he caught his breath. They were busy caching their supplies in piles that they marked with sticks or stones or whatever else they could find. Noah had heard that anyone caught stealing from another's cache was as
good as dead. The miners held their own court, when needed, and stealing was the same as murder in these conditions.

One young man planted his pile close to Noah's feet and smiled lopsidedly at him. “Only thirty-four more trips to make. It's a heck of a view though, isn't it?”

Noah looked into the man's sparkling eyes and nodded, breathing deeply of the cool air. “This land will take a hold of you and never let go, if you're not careful.”

The young man grinned back and nodded. “I'm already under her spell. Maybe I'll stick around after the gold rush.”

Noah took off his pack and started stashing his goods near the young fellow's. “How do you suppose you'll like the ride down from here?”

The man squinted into the sun and pointed. “I've been down a few times already. It's a rough ride near the bottom, though, with the mix of snow and mud.”

Noah grinned at the men sliding down the slope by way of the tunnels. One fellow slid down three-quarters of the mountain and then ran into a bare patch and came to a sudden stop. He was launched up and over the path, landing in a mess of slush. Noah watched with relief while the man got up, dusted himself off, and scurried out of the way of another coming down.

The young man laughed with him and said, “Did you hear about the avalanche that happened here last month?”

Noah shook his head. “What happened?”

“Some say thirty feet of snow came crashing down the Chilkoot. Killed over seventy men.” He paused and shook his head. “Buried alive.”

Noah slapped his thigh with his hat, shaking his head, and placed the hat back on his head. “It's a hard trail. I don't
imagine most folks knew what they were getting into when they left the States to come up here.”

“But you don't feel that way, do you?” he asked. “You lived here awhile?”

Noah smiled. He liked this young man. Holding out his hand he said, “Name's Noah Wesley. I'm from Juneau. Lived in Alaska eleven years.” His eyes scanned the land, the view from atop a mountain pass—like the rest of Alaska—imposing. “I'll tell you what I think of Alaska. It's neither heaven nor hell, but it'll make a man of you. It will test you and try you and tell you what you're made of,” he shrugged. “And then when you think it has taken all you have, it will give you something back that more than makes up for it.” He clapped the youth on the shoulder. “Stick around, you'll see what I mean.”

The young man nodded, drinking in every word Noah said. “I will, Mr. Wesley. I will. The name's Jack. Jack London. I plan to write about this place … and these people.”

Noah nodded. “It's a worthy subject. People will remember this event for a hundred years or more.”

“I plan to see they do,” Jack said determinedly. He nodded once more to Noah and joined the line of men sliding down to the bottom.

Turning back to his supplies, Noah lifted his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, sighing. He had really hoped he would find Elizabeth by now and wouldn't have to go into Canada. At the Canadian boarder sat the scales of the North West Mounted Police. No one would get into Canada without a year's supply of provisions and equipment totaling about two thousand pounds. He had started out with less than half of what he needed and had reluctantly bought the other half in Sheep Camp. He'd hoped he
wouldn't have to use it, but now he knew he would. If he could only borrow some of the gold fever surrounding him. To him the next thirty or so trips up this mountain were a precious waste of time and effort. He didn't want to pan for gold in Dawson. He just wanted to find Elizabeth.