Something the colonel ended up helping with, not only because he needed something physical to do after spending so many hours writing at his desk every day, but because Stuart's enthusiasm for growing things was contagious. It was the reason the colonel's rooftop garden at the Villa Nofre was so abundant when Stella first met him. Not to mention the many little wooden pots and planter boxes that were lined up in front of their bank of French windows, and tucked into various nooks and crannies all over their living quarters, even now.
Then there was the matter of having to enclose the area with wire and fence in order to keep the deer away. A project that had particular appeal to Mason, who had run out of things to do inside, already, and liked to stay busy. So it was that a routine developed among them, where the men went outside to work every afternoon (being retired, they liked their slow mornings), while Stella and Millie continued the latest development of a project of their own. It was a cookbook offering famous recipes from The Last Resort, that they could sell to tourists who enjoyed their stay here.
If they ever got any.
Having come to Alaska to run a lodge, they decided to ignore the fact they were still shipwrecked. At the moment (the first clear day after an entire week of snow) they were too happily engrossed in trying to take the perfect picture of a freshly baked Huckleberry Betty for the cover, to even think about setbacks.
The light coming in through the large porthole above the sink counter in the galley suddenly glowed beautifully down onto the red ceramic baking dish (maybe they should add a sprig of evergreen and put it in the holiday section), and Stella snapped several angles of it. Just to get things right. Then, as they had their heads together and were clicking silently through the preview slides to decide which was best, they began to hear the far-off drone of a motor.
“Stuart and the kids!” Millie nearly knocked over the little bowl of whipped cream they had set next to the dessert (for added appeal), just trying to get to her jacket that was hanging near the door. “They actually came back!”
Which made Stella realize she and the colonel weren't the only ones who had been worried about putting such temptation in front of their former house thief. Especially since they had passed the three-week mark, denoting the earliest they might possibly expect them to return. But it didn't turn out to be the rest of their family, after all. As the noise of an engine increased, and the two of them stood out in front of the wheelhouse, looking around in all directions...
They finally spotted a lone snow machine heading toward them on its way through the pass.
They were saved!
At the very least, they were saved! No matter who it turned out to be, there were other people living on this very island who could get them back in touch with civilization. Which led to a royal welcome—a bit overwhelming to the bewildered visitors—when the motor finally shut down and two bundled up riders climbed off in front of the bridge.
“What is this-place?” said a female voice, pulling off her helmet at the same time, and letting loose a waterfall of long black hair. “Sammy, look at this-place! It looks like a—a—”
“A hotel!” Millie finished for her. “Welcome to The Last Resort! That's the name of it. Come on in for some coffee and Huckleberry Betty. Fresh out of the oven.”
“We didn't bring any money, though,” said a man, dressed in camouflage, with a rifle slung across his back. He also had a cascade of black hair, but it only fell to his shoulders when he took off his helmet. “Just out for some hunting. We come every year. Can't get here unless it snows.”
“Oh, it's on the house. Right, Stella?”
“Of course it is. We're so happy to see people, we're hoping you'll stay for supper, too. Here come the men, they must have heard you drive up.”
At which point, the colonel, Mason, and Gerald appeared at the head of the path to the waterfall, where they had been running more wires for electricity out to Gerald's new potting shack.
“By the hoagie—if this isn't Christmas come early!” Mason gave the man a friendly smack on the shoulder. “Where did you come from, boy?”
“More importantly,” said the colonel, “Where are we?”
“We've been stranded out here for months!” Gerald was so excited he was shaking. “We're shipwrecked!”
“Where's the ship?” Sammy asked, as they all tromped over the bridge to the mudroom Mason had designed that formed an entryway where the large hole in the boat had been. Just in front of the indoor lake. Which was now railed off with a wide deck that hung out over the water, and sported a built-in bench and table for Stuart to fish from. There were even racks holding his fishing poles, though he hadn't been there for weeks.
“This is it,” said Millie. “We decided to turn it into a lodge, since that's what we came here for. Except we'll probably have to tear it down if we're in a federal wilderness area. Or on someone else's property.”
“It's someone else's property,” the woman answered, sluffing out of her forest green jacket and hanging it on one of the wooden pegs. They were a striking couple. He was handsome, in a rugged sort of way, and she was quite lovely. Except it was almost impossible to tell how old they were. Not too young, and not too old. It was the oddest thing, Stella thought... maybe because they had such beautiful skin.
“It belongs to some rich-guy who never-comes anymore.” Even the woman's voice was lovely. Had a sing-song quality to it.
“So, no worries, eh?” The man gave the colonel a wink and a nudge.
“Well, I don't know about that,” he replied. “But I suppose it wouldn't hurt to make an offer. Just for this little piece, anyway.”
“You have to find him, first. Right, Mary?”
“Yeah, our family's been living on the other-end, over the mountain. We got a whole village out- there. Both of us were raised-up in it. This is my husband, Sammy Robert. We're middle-age, now, and even we never saw that old-man, yet.”
“It's a good place because it's a wild place,” Sammy added.
“Oh, I like how you got this all fixed-up!” Mary followed Millie up the companionway stairs, looking everything over along the way.
“Wait till you see the galley,” Millie replied. “I mean, the dining room.”
8
Getting ready for Christmas was festive. Or, at least, as festive as it could be with only half a family. It had been nearly six weeks since the Mah-Bo II chugged out of the inlet, on a promise to return as soon as possible. There had been several discussions about it. Especially after Gerald, summoning every ounce of courage that remained in him, agreed to ride back to the village—with some others who had dropped by during a hunting trip—and try to make contact with the outside world. The most important thing being to locate the owner of the property they were shipwrecked on, and find out if they didn't have enough to either buy, or work out some affordable arrangement to stay.
An idea that became more appealing every day. The remote location, without a single road into it and such a hazardous inlet to get past by water, perched on the very edge of one of the most notorious stretches of ocean in the north country, couldn't be all that expensive. Could it? At least, that's what Stella thought, who had never felt more at home in her life. Or, more safe.
Not to mention they had turned the little spot into something of a paradise they were all growing more and more reluctant to leave. No matter what condition Mason's lodge turned out to be in. Why, it was even better than the Villa Nofre. The truth was, none of them wanted to move from The Last Resort, anymore. Not when they had settled in so comfortably, could live so cheaply, and—most of all—would still be in the same place, should Cole and Lou Edna ever come back.
They were fairly sure Stuart was no longer with the young couple, or he would have insisted on being taken back to his boat, no matter what Cole and Lou Edna decided do. Which he probably had no idea of, since they would have taken him to a hospital, first. By this time, their former Captain was no doubt wondering where everyone was, and giving care worke
rs a hard time in some rehab center he had been transferred to. Maybe even having to go to a “quiet room” —or worse—if he didn't behave.
Stella worried a lot about that. Because she knew for a fact the most independent patients often lost heart the quickest, when they could see no way out of their situation, and simply gave up. Which would be a sad end for the man who had not only made all their dreams possible, but had sacrificed his own most precious thing in the world to do it. Considering the Dreadnaught would never go to sea, again, it had truly been his “finest hour.”
So, it was on a late afternoon, only two days before Christmas, while Stella and Millie were stringing the last of their Christmas lights around the galley porthole, and waiting for a ham to finish baking, that they heard the drone of another motor in the distance.
“Stuart and the kids!” Millie cried, dropping her end of the lights and grabbing her yellow knit hat and ski jacket from the hooks by the door. “They've come back! Oh, I knew I didn't have Mason make that little wooden train set for nothing!”
Stella climbed down off the counter and reached for her jacket, too (periwinkle blue, with a hood), and had barely joined Millie on the foredeck when she saw that it was just another snow machine, coming through the pass. They had been having quite a few visitors from the village since Sammy and Mary Robert had discovered them. Word had definitely gotten around about Millie's cooking, and it was still hunting season.
“Maybe it's Gerald,” she offered. “Wouldn't it be wonderful if he at least heard some news about them?”
“Well, he's—” Her friend reached into her pocket for a tissue and blew her nose. “He's sure had enough time to, he's been gone over a week!”
It was Gerald.
A very excited Gerald who came barreling down through the meadow with some sort of sled in tow, bounced up over a berm, and down again in a puff of powdered snow that caused a delighted feminine laugh to escape the passenger holding onto him from behind. By the time they came to a stop, in front of the bridge, Mason and the colonel had come out to see who it was, too.
“You'll never believe it!” His voice was muffled before he got the helmet off. “Wait till you hear what I found out! This is Sarie, by the way.”
By that time his passenger had climbed down and taken her helmet off, as well. “That's short-for Sarah,” she informed them. “But he calls-me that.” Then she laughed. It was a musical, contagious giggle that set her dark eyes dancing in her round face, and the short black ponytail on top of her head quivering.
“Come and warm up,” said the colonel. “I'm sure we've got a kettle on the stove.”
“We've got hot apple cider and eggnog, too,” Millie boasted. “This being the holidays, and all. But don't keep me in suspense, Gerry—have you heard anything about Lou?”
“In sort of a round about way, Mil,” her cousin replied as he undid the bungee cords on the sled and began taking off bundles.
“What is all this stuff?” Mason handed one to the colonel, and then the took another for himself as they followed the group inside.
“Fresh meat for Millie's freezer. Enough to last all winter!”
“Must of cost a fortune.”
“Not really. I'll tell you about it when we get inside.”
“That's some jacket, too, Gerry. What—was there an ATM machine in that village? It's a good sign Shortcake didn't clean us all out, anyway.”
“No, no ATM, I'm afraid. And this is a Native-sewn fur parka,” he explained. “Made in one of the villages, up north.”
“Must have cost a fortune.”
“It was a gift, really. From my...” He set his bundle down once they were inside the mud room and put an arm around Sarie (who was wearing a similar one). “My fiancee!”
“What?” Millie had been halfway to the companionway stairs when she heard it, and turned around to hurry back, again. “What?”
“Congratulations! Oh, Oliver, isn't it wonderful?” Stella felt delighted over the news. Having spent so many years alone and lonely, she wouldn't wish the same fate on anyone.
“We both-like gardens.” Sarie giggled, again. “I sell vegetables out of my greenhouse. It's called Garden by-the Sea. The whole village buys my vegetables. I brought some for Millie.”
“For me?”
“Yeah, it's a present from Huckleberry Mary's Place, with a recipe for bear-meat stew.”
“Huckleberry Mary? I don't know anybody like that, but it's awful nice of her.”
“Oh, you know her, Mil.” Gerald helped Sarie out of her parka and hung it up on a peg next to his. “It's Sammy and Mary Robert's new place. She made herself famous using the Huckleberry Betty recipe you gave her.”
“She what?”
“From that cookbook you and Stella are working on. The first day they came here. Remember? Let's go upstairs, I'm starved.”
“OK, but Gerry don't keep me in suspense. If you know anything at all about Lou and the baby, I want to hear it first thing. I've been half out of my mind worrying about them.”
“They're all fine, they're in Ketchikan. Going to try to be home by Christmas.”
“Christmas—that's day after tomorrow—Mase did you hear that? By Christmas!”
“That girl's gonna hear it from me, giving us a scare like that,” he grumbled as they all filed into the galley. “What have they been doing all this time?”
“Waiting on some tests for Stuart, along with his physical therapy. He was supposed to be released this week, so they should be here any time.”
“How did you find this all out?” the Colonel settled into his place at the table while Stella put the kettle on for hot cider, and Millie got out the eggnog. “Talk to them on the phone, somehow?”
“No phone service in-the village,” said Sarie. “It's just a little village. Only about twenty-five people.”
“That's the thing!” Gerald smacked his hand on the table and laughed. “You better sit down, Mason.”
“Now, what did she do.” He slid one of the counter stools over and sank down onto it. “Better give it to me straight.”
“She did just what she said she would!” Then he turned to his cousin. “What do you think of that, Millie? She hasn't run off or stolen a thing since she left here. She and Cole went looking for the lodge—like we asked them to—and we just missed each other. Well, they were there two weeks, ago. They're back in Ketchikan to shop, and pick up old Stuart, now.”
“They were at the village?” Mason rubbed a hand over his whiskers. “How did they end up there? Get stuck in weather and have to duck in somewhere close by? That would be a coincidence, all right.”
“No, it's even a bigger coincidence. Brace yourself, Mase.” Gerald slid behind the table, on the bench next to Sarie. He smoothed down his mustache, laughed a bit (which made Sarie giggle), then finally smacked his hand on the table and shook his head before declaring, "The lodge... is the village.”
“What?”
“I could hardly believe it, either! I mean, what are the odds?”
Millie suddenly stopped shaking nutmeg into a pitcher of eggnog, as if the realization only just registered. “Are you saying Mason owns the whole village?”
“Holy Mackerel—all those twenty-five village people are, up there, living in my lodge?”
“Well, there's a couple cabins scattered around it, but for the most part, yes.”
“They said some old man owned it.”
“We're not exactly spring chickens,” the colonel reminded him. “But I have to say it is hard to believe we've been sitting on our own land all this time. Harder still to imagine it stretches all the way from the village to here.”
“But the village isn't that far away,” insisted Gerald. “Just over the hill. Right Sarie?”
“Yeah, and that's the long-way. On the beach, it's just around-the point. Nobody likes to go that way, though. Too many rocks. This side is good hunting, but there has to be lots-of snow. Too much muskeg to get over-that pass the rest of the yea
r.”
There was quiet for a moment as all this new information sank in.
Mason realized he still had his hat on, snatched it off, and slid it under his stool. “Guy I got it from told me it was about seventy-eight acres. Last of one of those big homestead plots the state used to give away by lottery. All you had to do was make improvements, and live there for five years, to own it free and clear. So, he built the lodge. After that, he just came back to hunt and fish every year.”
“They don't do it that way anymore,” said Sarie. “Only sell little pieces around-the towns, now. For lots-of money.”
“Way he told it, only a small part of the property was really usable.”
“Muskeg and rocks,” agreed Sarie.
“That's what he told me. Most up the side of a mountain...”
“Where-the pass is,” she added.
“And the other part nothing but rocks and trees. Smack in the middle of a wilderness, with no roads. That's what he said. Had to come inland by boat for a few miles, then hike in a few miles more to some lake. That's where the only livable land was.”
“Fish Eagle Lake,” she said.
“By the hoagie—that's the one. He built his hunter's lodge next to it.”
“Old-man Dunny's lodge. He let the families set up fish camp on his-place, every year, too. Then when he stopped coming, we just stayed-anyway.”
“That was him, all right. Elmer Dunstan. By the Hoagie!”
“I think it's a miracle,” said Stella. “Even though we overshot and came in on the back end, we weren't as far away as we thought we were. Just seemed like it in all that fog.”
“Things do seem farther in a fog,” the colonel agreed. “Especially if you have to inch along the way we did. And we should remember what an excellent navigator Captain Stuart has always been, too.”
“Shortcake sure did a good job of tracking the place down for us,” said Mason. “It's a real twist about the village, though.” He looked over at Sarie. “You people been out there a long time.”
Voyage of the Dreadnaught: Four Stella Madison Capers Page 15
