[Yukon Quest 01] - Treasures Of The North (11 page)

Bounding up the front steps two at a time, Peter pulled open the screen door and called out, ‘‘Father! I’m here!’’

Ephraim Colton, a wiry and weathered fellow in his fifties, appeared at the end of the hall. ‘‘We’ve gathered in the music room, Peter. Miranda was keeping us entertained while we waited to share the news.’’

‘‘Good news or bad?’’ Peter questioned, tossing his cap aside.

‘‘Good. Come and hear for yourself,’’ he said, beckoning Peter to come quickly.

Peter nodded. His father’s spirits seemed considerably lifted since their earlier talk at breakfast. In fact, he looked as if he could break into a jig at any moment.

Glancing at his sister, Peter took up a straight-backed chair and sat. Miranda, ever prim and properly attired, grinned and nodded at Peter as if to suggest he was in for a treat. Easing against the chair, he looked back to his father. ‘‘So tell me everything.’’

‘‘Oh, Peter, it is the very best of news,’’ his mother, Amelia, stated before her husband could take the letter from her hands. ‘‘Indeed it has made us all very happy.’’

‘‘So tell me and let me share in your happiness.’’

‘‘The letter is from our good friend Martin Paxton. He’s been spending time in Chicago these past two months,’’ Ephraim told his son. ‘‘While there, he’s benefited from the news of the gold rush and wishes to help us benefit as well.’’

Now Peter’s interest was captured. ‘‘In what way?’’

‘‘He wants to hire us to take freight to Skagway. With folks making their way north, Martin sees the profit of selling goods. He wants to give it a trial run and if the money is good, he will continue to invest with us. He’s wired money to the bank here in San Francisco and told me to use it as I wish to get the ships up and running.’’

‘‘Isn’t Mr. Paxton generous to offer us such a commission?’’ his mother said with obvious adoration.

‘‘What sort of interest is he charging us?’’ Peter asked quickly, as if to cast suspicion on the generosity of Mr. Paxton.

His father looked confused. ‘‘No interest. This isn’t really a loan in full. The money is there for our use, true enough. But we will be purchasing supplies for Mr. Paxton’s store and moving them north. We can take a reasonable shipping fee and take on passengers as well—if we choose.’’

‘‘Sounds most agreeable,’’ Peter replied, thinking of what it could mean for the family.

‘‘Son, what are your views on this push to the north? Apparently there are more willing souls to head north than there are ships to crate them. Shall we join in this rush?’’

‘‘In truth, Father, I’ve considered this very thing,’’ Peter admitted. ‘‘Seems like good money for minimal work, especially if we haul passengers without extending a lot of fancy services. Charge a fair price, but offer nothing more than two meals a day and shared quarters. Out of Seattle and with good weather, it would take no more than five days to reach Skag-way.’’

‘‘But I thought the most coveted route would go north around Nome and up the Yukon River,’’ his father said.

Peter was surprised his father had become interested enough to remember these details. Even the excitement of easy gold had never been enough to turn his father’s head.

‘‘It’s true,’’ Peter began. ‘‘Many of the lines are offering service to the Yukon via an all-water route. But there are just as many who are dumping loads of passengers and goods off at the towns of Skagway and Dyea. I was talking to the captain of the
Florence Marie,
and he told me about the passageway and the harbors there. Neither town has much in the way of a dock, but that will soon change. They generally anchor offshore and use barges to take the goods and people to awaiting wagons. He assures me plans are already in the making for proper docks.’’

‘‘And you think it would be better to bring folks into this Skagway rather than take the Yukon River route and deliver them to their destination of Dawson City?’’

Peter nodded. ‘‘Much shorter time and less trouble; thus, we could charge customers less. I could make several trips a month and see immediate results. The Yukon route would take months, and frankly, without extensive repairs I doubt either
Merry Maid
or your
Summer Song
could withstand the harsh conditions.’’

‘‘Aye,
Summer Song
would need work, that’s to be sure. But what of the trip to Skagway. She’ll need work for that as well.’’

Peter considered the situation for a moment. ‘‘My suggestion is to take Mr. Paxton up on his offer, but to advise him that certain repairs and alterations will have to be made up front before we can proceed.’’

‘‘But that might well result in him canceling his plans,’’ Ephraim said. The worried look on his face spoke more than his words.

‘‘If Mr. Paxton is the friend you claim him to be, he would not want you or me to risk our lives. In addition, he’d want to know his cargo was safe.’’

‘‘Aye. I’ll get a telegram off to him straightaway. But what of the alterations and repairs?’’

‘‘Yes, Peter, is there anything we can do to help?’’ Miranda asked.

Peter looked to the eager expressions of his sister and mother. ‘‘I can get Jim Goodson down to look over the accommodations on the
Merry Maid
. He can work miracles, and if there are funds to pay for them, Jim is the one I’d trust to do the work.’’

‘‘Do you suppose he would have time to get right to it? Time is of the utmost importance,’’ Ephraim replied.

‘‘I’ll clean up and go to see Jim. Meanwhile, Father, you must arrange for the goods Mr. Paxton wants shipped. I’m supposing he sent you a list?’’

‘‘Aye,’’ Ephraim replied. ‘‘I can get to it after sending the post. We should make certain he wants us to continue despite the need for repair work.’’

‘‘Very well. If his reply is positive, we will need to act fast. There is always the possibility that in the midst of this gold madness supplies will be unavailable. I would hate to disappoint such a generous man.’’ Peter looked to his mother and sister. ‘‘As for you two, if you wish to be of the utmost help, assist me in planning for the sleeping arrangements. We’ll need blankets and sheets, pillows and such.’’

‘‘Of course,’’ Amelia Colton replied, nodding. ‘‘We can see to all of that.’’

For the first time in months, Peter felt truly encouraged. ‘‘Good. Then let’s get to work!’’

Hours later after arranging with Jim Goodson for several alterations to the
Merry Maid
, Peter headed home. He’d decided it was in their best interest to get Jim right on the job. If Paxton wouldn’t advance them the money, Jim was a good enough friend to wait until Peter could return.
One run,
Peter thought,
one run is all I need to make enough to pay off Jim
. Then he could see to their debts and get both ships properly fitted.

He hated that
Summer Song
and
Merry Maid
had suffered such wear over the years. It reflected poorly on him. He wanted nothing more than to show his father that he was fully capable of seeing to the needs of their family, and yet they were hopelessly in debt and perilously close to bankruptcy. Paxton’s offer couldn’t have come at a better time, and yet Peter had to fight back feelings of inadequacy.

‘‘I should have figured a way out,’’ he muttered to himself. He kicked an empty can out of the way and watched as the wind picked up the game and sent the object clattering down the road.

‘‘If only Father would have—’’ He stopped himself in mid-sentence. He wouldn’t bad-mouth his father. Ephraim Colton was simply not the best of businessmen. He’d made an adequate living for his family. Peter could not fault him for holding steady rather than pushing for great wealth. Neither could he fault his father for the depression that had robbed the shipping industry and everyone else of their well-being.

Merry Maid
and
Summer Song
had been fairly new when his father had taken them on. They were small, classy new steamers with sail capabilities that made them both economical and efficient. The elder Colton had invested heavily, mortgaging everything he had and throwing in all his savings, which at that time had been considerable due to a family inheritance. But twenty years and a depression later, Peter could hardly find a way to keep their heads above the debt.

It was quite late by the time he reached the house, and Peter knew his family would already be asleep. Slipping quietly up the steps, he paused at the top and without thinking much about what he was doing, he sat down to contemplate their new situation.

The past months had weighed heavily on Peter, and he had worried over what they would do and how they would manage to keep in business. The gold rush news had brought a fury of activity to the bay area, but Peter had felt too cautious to simply jump in with both feet. It wasn’t a lack of desire that had kept him homebound, but rather a measure of respect for his less-adventurous father. Ephraim Colton took things at a much slower speed these days. His father had suffered the past ten years, fretting and worrying about poor decisions. It had taken the spirit out of him. For as long as Peter could remember, he had known the business to be in trouble. Living in the west had seemed like Ephraim’s dream come true, but the life here had been harder than he had anticipated, and his worries over his wife and children had caused him to change his thinking. He had once told Peter that nothing grieved him more than the thought of leaving a penniless widow behind to raise two children on her own. When a modest inheritance had come to Ephraim, he saw it as his ability to ensure his family’s needs. His choices, however, hadn’t been the wisest. The ships he’d purchased were costly and the resulting business transactions were not to the family’s advantage.

With a sigh, Peter looked out past the streets and down over the hilly landscape to the bay. He could just barely make out the water—inky black but glistening in the moonlight. Yet he could see the ships’ masts rising up like apparitions from a life forgotten. Sailing was not as popular as steam these days, and while
Merry Maid
and
Summer Song
were fitted for both, Peter still held a passion for a ship dressed in full sail.

He reflected once again on the day’s events and realized that at just the moment they had needed it most, fate had intervened to give them an answer. Some might have said it was a divine intervention, but Peter found religious nonsense to be wearisome. There was no doubt a God in heaven, but Peter believed God must expect more of man than blind faith in a Savior. There had to be many people who walked the earth and did more than their share to aid and comfort the people around them. No doubt there were more ways to please God than merely accept faith in a solitary man who had walked the earth so many hundreds of years ago. Why would a God of infinite resources rely upon only one Savior for His world?

Smiling to himself, Peter felt a revival in his spirit. His family believed him to be fully capable of leading them into the next century. He wouldn’t let them down now that he himself could see a way out.

Paxton’s money was just the thing they needed. There had been no hope of taking out further loans against the ships or the house. Peter saw the mounting debt and lack of business and fretted that he’d never see Colton Shipping on solid ground. He worried that his family would see him as less than capable in ascertaining the proper business plan. The last thing Peter wanted to do was to disappoint his family.

The gold rush will be our deliverance,
he now told himself.
There is more than one way to make a fortune from this adventure
.

Hearing the door open behind him, Peter turned. Miranda stood peering out. ‘‘I thought I saw you coming up the walk,’’ she said softly.

Peter got to his feet. ‘‘I was just enjoying the evening air.’’

‘‘May I join you for a moment? I have something to discuss.’’

‘‘Wouldn’t you be more comfortable inside?’’

Miranda slipped out the door and pulled her shawl tight around her long, flowing nightgown. ‘‘No, I think the evening perfectly lovely, and since it is rather late, no one will see me here.’’

The breeze blew her long brown hair away from her face, and in the moonlight Peter could see the questioning look in her expression. ‘‘So you have something of great importance to discuss? Come sit with me.’’

Miranda joined him and together they sat down on the top step. ‘‘I wanted your opinion on a suitor. Well, a gentleman who would like very much to be my suitor.’’

‘‘Who is this man?’’

‘‘Mr. Plimpton.’’

Peter thought for a moment. ‘‘The man who owns the grocery two blocks down?’’

Miranda nodded. ‘‘Yes. He attends our church, and last week he asked me if I would consider walking out with him.’’

‘‘And what did you tell him?’’

Miranda smiled and reached for her brother’s arm. Squeezing him gently, she replied, ‘‘I told him that my father and brother would have to be consulted.’’

‘‘And how did he take this news?’’

She frowned. ‘‘Well, not as I would have liked. He suggested that in this modern age it was hardly necessary for a woman to consult her family before giving her heart.’’

Peter bristled. ‘‘And your reply to that?’’

‘‘I was quite taken aback. I had heard other women talk thusly, but never a man.’’

‘‘He doesn’t sound like much of a man to me,’’ Peter replied. ‘‘Not if he’s suggesting an innocent young woman need not consult with her elders—her male elders—for proper direction.’’

‘‘I felt certain you would see it that way,’’ Miranda said, sounding a little disappointed.

Peter did not miss the tone in her voice. ‘‘Do you really wish to spend time with a man who would have so little regard and concern for your safety? A man who obviously would not find it necessary to take charge of your needs in a traditional manner, but rather would leave you to fend for yourself?’’

She quickly shook her head and again squeezed his forearm. ‘‘Oh, Peter, it’s not that. It’s just that I’m nearly twenty-three. And I’ve already been engaged once and that turned out so poorly that I do not even wish to remember it.’’

‘‘That is because you failed to bring it to me prior to agreeing to marry that cad. It’s to your benefit that we found him out before you were legally bound. A divorced man would never be an acceptable mate. Much less a man twice divorced.’’ Peter had offered to pay the man in order to send him packing and leave the nai
ve eighteen-year-old Miranda behind. It took less than half of what Peter had been willing to spend, and the scoundrel had disappeared without so much as a letter of explanation.