[Yukon Quest 01] - Treasures Of The North (6 page)
‘‘Oh, absolutely. I’ve not had a great adventure since five years ago when I accompanied several maiden teachers to tour the falls of Niagara.’’
Karen smiled reassuringly at Grace. ‘‘She didn’t lose anybody then. I’m certain she’ll not lose anyone this time.’’
Myrtle sat quietly in Grace’s sitting room. Grace sat near her on the sofa and together they whispered and plotted while Karen made notes.
‘‘My heart is so heavy,’’ Myrtle said, leaning back as if physically taxed. ‘‘I have wasted many good years on the insignificant.’’
‘‘But, Mother, you were brought up to care about such things. Grandmother placed great importance on social standings. You mustn’t blame yourself for what has happened.’’
‘‘Oh, but I do,’’ Myrtle replied. ‘‘When your brother died as a little one, I thought my heart might break within me. Then I had you and I feared letting the bonds be too close. I didn’t want to endure that pain again. I put you from me and chose instead to care about things.’’
She looked into her daughter’s face. Only the slightest hint of the bruise remained on Grace’s cheek. The handprint had been a strong reminder to Myrtle that her priorities had suffered greatly over the last twenty years. The past week had been a time of deep prayer and regret. Regret that she could have been so blind. Regret that she could not take back the choices—that she could not turn back the hands of time.
‘‘I shall miss you so dearly,’’ Myrtle said in a whisper. Her voice broke despite her efforts to keep her emotions at bay. ‘‘I feel as though I’m just seeing you for the first time, only to send you away.’’
‘‘No more trees?’’ Grace asked softly.
Myrtle shook her head and reached out to take hold of Grace’s hand. ‘‘No more trees. No more wealth above people. No more concern over social matters at the detriment of my loved ones. Grace, you must listen to me. I have no idea what kind of power Martin Paxton has over our financial well-being, but I do not want you to concern yourself with it. If we should lose it all, then so be it. I cannot stand by and be the woman I once was.’’ She bowed her head. ‘‘I’m so ashamed that it should take something like this to open my eyes. How blind I have been.’’
‘‘Mother, I don’t understand,’’ Grace said, putting her free hand atop her mother’s chilled fingers. ‘‘This matter is grave, no doubt. But the seriousness in which you see it alarms me. I don’t understand.’’
Myrtle met her child’s gaze. ‘‘I can’t say that I totally understand it myself. I have never been given to questioning your father’s authority, but something in me rises up to rebel. I fear for you. I do not like Martin Paxton, and that he should exercise such demands on your father only proves that he is ruthless and unfeeling. I simply fear the outcome might be far worse than any of us could even now suspect.’’
‘‘Then I will go, and I will endeavor not to fret over you and Father. You must promise to write me, however. You must write or I will go mad with worry.’’
‘‘I will write,’’ Myrtle promised. ‘‘When it seems safe to do so, I will write.’’
DEVIL’S CREEK, COLORADO
BILL BARRINGER paced the small cabin in a determined manner. For all intents he looked to be a man with a purpose, but nothing could be further from the truth. If he did have a purpose, it was only to keep the fear he felt inside from finding an outward expression. He tried very hard, for the sake of his two children, not to look worried.
‘‘Will Mama have the baby soon?’’ twelve-year-old Leah asked softly.
‘‘I’m sure she will,’’ Bill replied. He ruffled the dark curls of his youngest. ‘‘Pretty soon you won’t be the baby of the family anymore.’’
‘‘But I’ll still be your princess, right, Papa?’’
Bill smiled. Leah looked so much like her mother. Soft dark curls, big blue eyes. Why, even at this tender age she bore the clear markings of a beautiful young woman. Before he knew it she would be courting and then married, and forgotten would be the days when she was her papa’s princess.
‘‘You’ll always be my princess,’’ he promised. ‘‘No matter if this baby is a boy or a girl, you’ll have that special place.’’
Leah smiled and went back to her sewing.
‘‘Why can’t Leah cook the supper?’’ Jacob grumbled from the hearth. At fourteen, he was absolutely convinced that cooking was woman’s work.
‘‘Leah’s doing the mendin’,’’ Bill answered. ‘‘Besides, you’re perilously close to being a grown man. You need to know how to fend for yourself. Cookin’ a meal ain’t nothing to be ashamed of.’’
Jacob lifted the ladle to sample the stew. ‘‘I think it’s just about done.’’
Bill nodded. ‘‘Better check on the biscuits.’’
With his son momentarily occupied, Bill cast a quick glance at the bedroom door. His wife, Patience, as good as her name, hadn’t uttered a sound since taking to her bed. A midwife from nearby had come to tend to the delivery, but other than an occasional instruction murmured in a low, hushed voice, even the midwife was silent.
I should never have left Denver,
Bill reasoned as he resumed his pacing. At least in Denver they had lived in a decent house and he had held a regular job that brought in steady pay. But Denver had represented failure to Bill. A dozen years earlier he had been on top of the world. Rich from a bonanza of silver, Bill had taken the world for a ride—a wild, exciting ride that had merited him a house of some means and a happy family. Patience had lived the life of privilege he had always promised, and Bill had actually felt proud of his accomplishments.
They weren’t rich by Vanderbilt or Astor standards, by any means. But they were happy and comfortable and well set. At least they had been until silver was devalued in 1893 and depression set in across the country. Bill had gone from a life of happiness to one of fear and worry practically overnight. But that fear and worry were nothing compared to what he felt now.
Patience had delivered Jacob with relative ease, but Leah had come in a more difficult fashion and the doctor had suggested that additional children would be a risk. Patience, a god-fearing woman, had told the doctor flatly that she would have as many children as God gave her to bear. Bill, on the other hand, had been far more practical about the situation. He had suggested they do their best to refrain from additional pregnancies, pleading with Patience to stay strong and remain at his side. And with some disappointment, she had agreed.
Bill had figured them pretty much out of the woods when no other children followed Leah’s birth. After nearly twelve years, he figured Patience was strong enough to endure whatever God sent their way. Now he wasn’t so convinced.
Her labor had started at dawn, and after fixing breakfast for the family, she had taken herself to bed and asked Bill to fetch the midwife. There was an air of excitement among the family. This new baby, although unexpected, was a blessing they were all anticipating with great joy. Patience had told them all that God had smiled down upon them for a reason and that this baby would be a great happiness to them. Bill could only hope that to be the case.
Life was hard in the mining camps of Colorado, and Devil’s Creek camp was certainly no different. If anything, it was only worse. Bill had tried to find other accommodations closer to town, but this run-down cabin was the only thing he could afford. Patience had assured him it would be sufficient, but Bill wasn’t convinced.
Supper passed in a tense silence. Usually Patience would ask the children about their friends and what they had spent the day doing. Then Bill would ask them about their chores and make certain the tasks of the household were complete. This time Bill had no interest in conversation, and he could see that the children felt likewise.
By the time the clock on the mantel struck nine, Bill was nearly beside himself. There was no sense in pretending ease and assurance. The children knew he was afraid.
‘‘Mama says when you feel bad, you should pray,’’ Leah offered.
‘‘Yes. Your mama would say that.’’ Bill smiled. ‘‘That’s why we’re going to do just that. Jacob, leave off with those dishes and come on over here.’’ Bill knelt down beside his chair. Leah smoothed out the skirt of her dress and did likewise.
Jacob lumbered over and yawned as he got on his knees. They were usually retiring by this time, yet Bill didn’t have the heart to send them to bed before the baby was born.
Joining hands, Bill drew a deep breath, hoping it might put a tone of confidence in his voice. ‘‘Lord, we thank you for our blessings,’’ he began. ‘‘We thank you for watching over us, and we ask that you would go now to be with our dear Patience. Help her to have a safe delivery. Give health to the baby and to Patience. In Jesus’ name, amen.’’
Leah and Jacob both looked to their father as if to question what they should do next. Bill knew they were tired. They’d all been up since four-thirty that morning. ‘‘You can go to bed if you want,’’ he finally said, ‘‘or sit here with me.’’
‘‘I want to wait,’’ Leah replied. ‘‘I want to see Mama and the new baby.’’
Bill nodded. ‘‘How about you, son?’’
Jacob shrugged. ‘‘Guess I’ll wait too.’’
Just as they were getting up from the floor, the midwife came out from the bedroom. ‘‘I need a word with you, Bill.’’
Bill felt his chest tighten. ‘‘Leah, help your brother finish up the dishes.’’
‘‘Yes, Papa.’’ She watched him with wide eyes that betrayed her fear. ‘‘Is Mama all right?’’
‘‘I’m sure she is. You just let me talk to Mrs. Reinhart and then I can tell you more.’’
He followed the midwife outside. The ink-black night was illuminated by thousands of pinprick stars, and Bill knew there was no other place he’d ever been where God seemed so close.
‘‘I’m sorry, Bill,’’ Mrs. Reinhart began, ‘‘but Patience isn’t doing well. I’m afraid we may lose her and the baby.’’
Bill felt as if she’d delivered a blow to his midsection. For a moment he found it impossible to breathe.
Lose her? Lose
the baby?
Although he had known it a risk to bear another child, he couldn’t believe that God would wait twelve years to rob Bill of both the baby and his wife.
‘‘I don’t understand.’’
‘‘Baby’s caught,’’ the woman said. ‘‘Patience is just too small. The baby is caught up inside and there’s no way to get him down. I’ve tried, Bill, but without a doctor to take the baby through surgery, I’m afraid we won’t be able to save them.’’
‘‘Where is the doctor?’’
‘‘I couldn’t say. He was on the other side of the pass. I doubt we could bring him here in time, but if you want to give it a try, that will be our only hope.’’
‘‘No, don’t say that,’’ Bill said, shaking his head. ‘‘She can’t die.’’
Mrs. Reinhart gently touched Bill’s shoulder. ‘‘You could send your boy for the doctor, but I don’t think you’d want to leave her now. She’s askin’ for all of you. I think she knows she’s not going to make it.’’ He heard the words, but they made no sense to him. How could this be happening? Why would God do this to him? He’d tried to live a good life. He hadn’t complained, even when the silver had dropped in price and they’d lost everything. Patience had helped him to see that God was in the details and that even in losing all their worldly wealth, they still had one another. How could he go on if he didn’t have Patience to encourage him?
‘‘I’ll send for the doctor,’’ he said, struggling to find some point of hope. ‘‘There has to be a chance.’’
‘‘You do what you think is best,’’ she replied. ‘‘But right now I think you’d better go talk to her.’’
Bill nodded. ‘‘All right. But I don’t know what I’ll say. What can I say?’’
They went back into the cabin only to find that the children were nowhere in sight. The bedroom door was open, and from the dimly lit room, Bill could hear Patience’s weak voice.
‘‘Sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to,’’ she was saying.
Bill moved to the door and could see that she had gathered her children to her side, much like a mother hen would gather her chicks.
‘‘Please don’t go, Mama,’’ Leah said, her tearful voice cutting Bill to the heart. They already knew. Patience was already preparing them.
Patience opened her arms to her darlings, and Leah snuggled down beside her, putting her teary face to her mother’s breast. Bill knew she was probably comforted by the steady beat of her mother’s heart. Even Jacob, who considered himself too old for hugs and kisses, had knelt beside his mother and had now leaned across the bed to put his head in the crook of her arm.
‘‘Remember what Jesus said,’’ Patience whispered. She looked directly at Bill, even as she stroked the heads of her children. ‘‘He said he had to go to prepare a place for us. Remember?’’
The children nodded, but neither spoke. Bill could see they were trying hard not to cry. He was trying hard too, but his vision was already blurred.
‘‘I’m going to go to the place Jesus prepared,’’ Patience said, her loving gaze never leaving Bill’s face. ‘‘I want you to remember that, just like Jesus wanted us to remember it. I want to see you again in heaven, and there’s only one way to get there. You must give your heart to Jesus and continue to live by what the Bible tells you. Will you do that for me?’’
Leah lifted her head. ‘‘I will, Mama. But why do you have to go now? I don’t want you to go.’’ Her voice broke into a sob as she buried her face against her mother’s neck.
‘‘Oh, sweet baby, I don’t want to go away, but God knows best.’’
‘‘I think God’s bein’ mean if He thinks it’s best to take you away,’’ Jacob said, wrapping his arm tightly across his mother’s still-swollen abdomen.
‘‘No, Jacob, God is not mean,’’ Patience said, trying her best to soothe his anger. ‘‘You mustn’t be mad at God. He loves you so. Please promise me, Jacob, that you’ll love Him and keep His word.’’
Jacob raised up to meet his mother’s eyes. His lower lip quivered as he opened his mouth to speak. No words came. He bolted from the bed and flew across the room, knocking Bill backward as he fled the room.
Bill could no longer stand the pain of the moment. ‘‘I’m going to send Jacob for the doctor,’’ he said, struggling to keep his voice steady.
