[Yukon Quest 01] - Treasures Of The North (13 page)
Peter picked up the log where he’d just registered his newest passengers. Pointing his finger to the place where Miss Hawkins had signed, he found all the information he was looking for. Her name was Grace. A perfectly suitable name for such a lovely woman. And she was twenty years old. A perfectly suitable age for a twenty-six-year-old sea captain.
The thought rather startled Peter. He’d given no serious thought to women in some time. After all, the business had been in trouble and he had had nothing of his own to offer a wife. Grace’s lovely image suddenly caused him to rethink his circumstances, and that was most frightening. Shaking off the thoughts, Peter was determined to think on the woman no more. At least that was his intention.
MARTIN PAXTON cooled his heels in the Hawkinses’ small front parlor. His patience at an end, Paxton tried to reason what his next step would be. If he pushed too hard, Frederick Hawkins would break and be of little use to him. However, if he didn’t push hard enough, the man would simply string him along. The entire matter was quite irritating, but certainly no more so than the appearance of the parlor.
Fashioned to bear a flavor of the Orient, the walls had been papered in dark red with gold trim. Added to this, an artist had created a mural of silhouetted figures standing upon a curved bridge. The setting suggested a garden scene; the figures appeared to be lovers.
To accent the decorated walls, expensive oriental rugs were placed upon the dark wood floors. The wood trim along the doors and windows had been painted black and several large decorative chests had been placed amid dark walnut furniture to further set the mood. It all appeared quite fashionable—the smart sort of room a socially conscious family might promote. The kind of room Martin Paxton had no patience or appreciation for.
‘‘We’re sorry for having kept you waiting,’’ Myrtle Hawkins announced as she slid back the double doors and entered the room. She refused to make eye contact and Frederick Hawkins cowered behind his wife, appearing ill at ease. Martin immediately sensed there to be trouble.
‘‘Where is Miss Hawkins?’’ he asked, looking beyond the couple to the open hallway.
‘‘I’m afraid Grace still has not returned,’’ Myrtle explained.
Martin was livid. For over three weeks they had given him one excuse after another. First, Grace was to have been taken ill and quarantined as the doctor attempted to figure out what the problem might be. Next it was suggested that Grace needed to recuperate in the mountains where the drier climate might see her more rapidly healed.
‘‘I’ve had all I’m going to stand for,’’ Martin announced. ‘‘I warned you, Hawkins, what would happen if you failed to come through on this. You owe me a great deal of money, and I’m not a patient man.’’
Frederick Hawkins took out a large handkerchief and wiped his sweat-drenched forehead. ‘‘She has a mind of her own. I tried to tell you that when you insisted on Grace being a part of the arrangement.’’
‘‘Grace is really rather young,’’ Myrtle began.
‘‘She’s twenty years old. Most women are married by this age,’’ Paxton retorted. He tried to keep his anger under control.
‘‘Can’t we all talk reasonably about this?’’ Myrtle suggested. ‘‘I’m sure we can come up with an acceptable alternative.’’
Martin wanted to slap the foolish woman. ‘‘And I am equally certain we cannot. I won’t stand for being double-crossed.’’
At this, Myrtle crossed the room to a black lacquered cabinet. Opening the intricately designed doors, she reached inside and returned with a large black velvet case. ‘‘I assure you, Mr. Paxton, no one is trying to double-cross you. We apologize for our daughter’s actions, but we can’t very well force her to marry you when she’s not even here.’’ She placed the case on the table beside Paxton and opened it.
Gleaming up from a bed of velvet, Paxton found an elaborate diamond and emerald necklace, complete with bracelet and earrings to match.
‘‘What do you think you’re doing, Mrs. Hawkins?’’ Frederick asked his wife. ‘‘I’ve already told you Paxton isn’t interested in your baubles.’’
Paxton studied the flawless gems for several moments before reaching over to snap the case shut. ‘‘Your husband is right. I’m not interested in your baubles.’’
‘‘I assure you, Mr. Paxton, they are worth a great deal of money. I have more and you could easily sell them to meet whatever debt my husband owes.’’
‘‘You’re trying to back out of our arrangement. You are trying to dupe me,’’ Paxton said sternly. His tone suggested he was reprimanding children. ‘‘I do not take kindly to being dealt with in this manner.’’
He casually reached inside his coat pocket and took out a cigar. Mindless of etiquette, he snipped the end and let the tip fall to the expensive carpet. Fishing a match from his pocket, Martin reached over to strike it on one of the artfully designed cases. Myrtle gasped as he lit his cigar. Taking several long draws of air to ensure the tip was lit, Paxton finally blew out the match and tossed it aside. Mrs. Hawkins’ gaze followed the match all the way to the ground. ‘‘I warned you, Hawkins.’’
The older man began to pale. The reaction was not lost on Paxton. He leaned back casually against the doorway and eyed his adversary carefully. ‘‘You know what this means.’’
‘‘I assure you that Grace simply needs time. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Hawkins?’’ Frederick said, turning a pleading expression on his wife. ‘‘She needs time and consideration. She’s led a very sheltered life.’’
‘‘Regardless, she’s still under your authority, not yet twenty-one. I fail to see why controlling her is such a difficult task. Then again, given the man I’m dealing with, perhaps it’s not so difficult to understand.’’
Myrtle looked first to her husband and then to Paxton. ‘‘I fail to see why the jewels won’t settle this between you.’’ The expression of confusion lingered, even as she voiced her concern.
‘‘The matter will not be settled because your husband fails to yield to my demands.’’
‘‘Unreasonable demands,’’ Myrtle Hawkins replied, squaring her shoulders.
Martin resented the woman’s interference in the matter but knew Frederick Hawkins was perilously close to breaking. He had seen the man cower in fear as Martin’s plan was laid out before him. He had watched the man slowly succumb to fear and anguish with every suggestion or requirement Martin had placed upon him. He was weak, and Paxton hated him for it.
‘‘My dear madam, I fail to understand why you are even a part of this conversation. I have conducted business with your husband and do not mean to begin a new term with you.’’
He drew leisurely on the cigar and blew out a great puff of smoke before flicking ashes onto the carpet. The look of horror in the eyes of his hostess only served to urge him on. Without warning, he tossed the cigar to the floor and ground it out beneath his boot. It was exactly as he wished to ground out the very memory of Frederick Hawkins—a complete eradication.
‘‘Neither of you seem to understand the severity of this situation, so let me enlighten you. I mean to see our businesses joined through my marriage to your daughter. I mean to see your assets as my own. Your status in Chicago will be negated by my own higher, more influential position.’’ He picked up the jewel case and flung it across the room, causing both Frederick and Myrtle to take a step back in fear. ‘‘I will not settle merely for baubles and trinkets. Grace is the price. I expect for you to have her delivered to me within the week.’’
He paused and eyed them both with a stare that drew upon all his hatred. ‘‘If you should either one believe me incapable of rendering your estate and circumstances to complete ruin, then by all means fail to meet this requirement.’’
Myrtle seemed to get her wind back. ‘‘I will never allow my daughter to marry you. You haven’t the common decency of a true gentleman to respect a lady’s lack of interest. Grace wants no part of you and I’m glad I helped her to escape!’’
‘‘Myrtle! Please be silent!’’ Frederick declared.
‘‘Let her speak,’’ Paxton said rather smugly. ‘‘This isn’t anything I haven’t already figured out. What I fail to understand is how you pulled the entire matter off right under my nose and the noses of my surveillance crew.’’
Frederick appeared stunned. ‘‘You had my daughter watched?’’
‘‘I have had you all watched,’’ Paxton replied. ‘‘I will continue to have you watched. I will arrange for your mail to be gone through and I will study your every move, if necessary. I will find Grace, and you had better pray that when I do, I’m still of a mind to marry her.’’
‘‘Never!’’ Myrtle cried. ‘‘I’ll never agree to you marrying my child.’’
‘‘Madam, marriage is the better alternative, believe me. I could do many things to discredit and disgrace this family. Just remember that and remember that I will find your daughter. You may count on it.’’
He walked to the front door where the butler stood stoically as if he’d not overheard the entire argument. ‘‘My hat!’’ Paxton demanded.
The man nodded and retrieved the black felt from the receiving table. Paxton turned only long enough to reiterate his demand. ‘‘One week. If she’s not here in that time and standing with me to take her vows, I will bring you to the ground!’’
Myrtle Hawkins felt the racing of her heart and actually feared she might collapse at any given moment. She could scarcely draw a breath after encountering Martin Paxton’s rage. She looked to her ashen-faced husband and watched him as he clutched his chest.
‘‘Frederick? Are you all right?’’
‘‘Leave me. I am well enough to know that if you do not rectify this situation immediately and bring Grace home, you will live to regret it. I, on the other hand, most likely will not.’’
‘‘Please, Frederick,’’ she pleaded. ‘‘Please tell me what this is all about. Tell me why you would rather give your daughter over to this man than face the loss of everything else.’’
He looked at her with such an expression of hopelessness that Myrtle worried he might indeed drop dead where he stood. ‘‘I cannot explain.’’
‘‘Then I cannot contact Grace,’’ Myrtle said sadly. ‘‘We may both be dead tomorrow, but I will not bring that child back to a life of brutal bondage with a man who so clearly holds no love for her. Had Martin Paxton voiced even a moderate amount of kindness and respect, I might well have gone along with you on this, but as it stands, I see him for the cruel monster he really is.’’
‘‘Do not toy with him,’’ Frederick pleaded. ‘‘He holds the ability to rob us of every happiness.’’
Myrtle shook her head. ‘‘He has already done that. He has driven our Grace away from us. We might never see her again, and we will have no one to blame but Martin Paxton and our own foolishness.’’
Paxton shook with fury as he threw his hat and coat across the room. Cursing, he poured himself a drink and tossed it back as if it could quench the fire that raged inside him.
How dare Frederick Hawkins stand up to him—knowing that Martin could and would crush him for his inability to meet the demands placed upon him? Pouring another drink, Martin paced the confines of his suite and tried to figure out what he would do next. Hawkins would suffer for this. So would his wife. They would feel the pinch as Martin began the systematic collection of all they held dear. By the time Chicago figured out what had happened, the Hawkins name would lay smoldering in ashes, just like part of the town had so many years ago after the great fire.
Then, when he finally had defeated them collectively as a family, he would destroy that bond between members by giving Myrtle the full knowledge of why he had come and why he held the power he did over her husband. With that, he would forever separate their close family, sending Myrtle one direction and Grace in another. Frederick would be left to perish in the mire of his own making. The thought left Martin with a smugly satisfying feeling.
‘‘I will destroy your family as you did mine,’’ he promised to the empty air.
AUGUST-NOVEMBER 1897
But where shall wisdom be found?
And where is the place of understanding?
Man knoweth not the price thereof;
neither is it found
in the land of the living.
The depth saith, It is not in me:
and the sea saith, It is not with me.
It cannot be gotten for gold,
neither shall silver be weighed
for the price thereof.
JOB 28:12–15
‘‘WE WILL BE UNDERWAY within the hour,’’ Peter Colton explained to the three women. ‘‘I will lay out the rules for you so that there will be no question of them in the days to come.
The first and most important rule is that I am in command of this vessel and you must heed my every demand.’’
Karen eyed the captain in irritation but said nothing. Grace was glad that her friend had taken the route of silence. It was frustrating enough to see that these two people clearly angered each other, but Grace’s head was already hurting and she had no desire to listen to an argument.
‘‘Number two,’’ Colton continued, ‘‘you will remain inside your cabin with the door locked. The only exception to this is for the purpose of allowing your meals to be brought inside.’’
‘‘And what are we to do about personal needs, Captain?’’ Karen questioned sarcastically. ‘‘Surely we will be allowed access to a bathing room.’’
‘‘There are pots under the beds for the obvious,’’ he replied, ‘‘but there are no baths on this ship. The trip lasts but five days in good weather and the need for such luxury is quite unnecessary.’’
‘‘I should have guessed. You smell as if you haven’t had benefit of such a feature in some time.’’
Doris reached out and pulled Karen back a pace. ‘‘We understand, Captain, that these are your instructions. But might you humor us and explain why these regulations are necessary?’’
Peter scowled and fixed his gaze on Karen. ‘‘This ship is loaded past maximum safety with men bound for the Klondike gold fields. They are bored and excited all at the same time. They are confined to a smaller space than even you have been privileged to manage. They will roam this ship at will and, short of causing trouble with my crew, will be allowed that free range for the duration of the trip. For your safety, these rules are put into place. I have no other choice.’’
