“Why, Ruth!” A high-pitched voice turned his attention to the plump woman standing at their table, staring at him rather than Ruth. “How are you?”
Joe looked at Ruth and saw that her mouth had tightened, and her eyes seemed to have narrowed a bit. Something about this woman put Ruth’s nerves on edge; that was obvious. As he looked back at the woman, he could see why. She was rudely gawking at both of them, and he wondered who she was. He didn’t have to wonder long, for Ruth spoke up.
“Mrs. Greenwood, do you know Joe Spencer?”
Joe stood up and forced a smile. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
Her mouth dropped open as though taken aback by his response. He had noticed that not too many men here had manners; she seemed to be shocked by his response.
“This is Mrs. Greenwood,” Ruth said as Mrs. Greenwood took in every inch of his clothing and even his boots, which he was glad he had just cleaned.
“Hello,” she said.
“How do you do?” He tried to force a smile, although she wasn’t smiling; she was merely gawking at him.
Then the woman’s large eyes shot back to Ruth. “How are you doing, dear?” The tone of her question made Joe suspect that she was probing for more than Ruth’s health.
“I am well, thank you,” Ruth said, looking uncomfortable as Mrs. Greenwood lingered at their table.
A silence followed, which Ruth did not bother to fill, so Joe sat back down in his chair.
“Well. . .” Mrs. Greenwood folded and unfolded her hands. “I’ll be going. I just came to pick up a plate to take home to Mr. Greenwood. Nice meeting you.” Her protruding eyes returned to Joe, boring through him once more before she turned around and pressed down her wide skirts to make the distance between two tables.
Joe looked across at Ruth and saw that her eyes were lowered. He wanted to ask about the woman, but Ruth didn’t seem inclined to talk about her. He picked up his fork again, trying to remember where he had heard the name. Then it came to him. Miss Mattie at the boardinghouse had said that a Mrs. Greenwood had entertained Ruth and Bradley at her home for Thanksgiving.
As he pretended to concentrate on his food, he realized that what he had seen on Ruth’s face now was embarrassment. If she were seeing Bradley, maybe she was embarrassed to be seen here with him. And yet, nothing about Ruth suggested that she would be dishonest or unfaithful once she was committed to someone.
Her heavy sigh caught his attention. “I’m afraid that by breakfast tomorrow everyone in Dawson will know that we had dinner together.”
“Oh? And is that so bad?” he asked, his tone guarded.
She shook her head. “No, of course not. This is the first evening I’ve truly enjoyed.” She sighed. “It’s just that Mrs. Greenwood is a bit of a busybody, and she seems to have taken me under her wing since Father died.”
“So how does taking you under her wing affect my having dinner with you?” Suddenly, he was thinking about his past, wondering if Mrs. Greenwood would start asking questions. The very idea of that made him nervous, and his appetite began to wane.
She looked thoughtful for a moment. When her eyes returned to his face, the glow in her eyes was gone. “She thinks I should accept Bradley’s proposal.”
Her honesty caught him off guard, and for a moment he could only stare at her. What he saw in her eyes, however, lifted his spirits. At the mention of Bradley’s name, there was no enthusiasm in her voice or in her eyes. At last, he had the opportunity to ask the question that had been troubling him.
“And how do you feel? Do you think you should accept his proposal?” His throat tightened on those words, and he found them difficult to speak, but he had to find out.
She shook her head. “No, I don’t. In fact, I’ve already turned him down.”
“You have?” His voice betrayed him again, and his eyes, too, he imagined. It was the best news he had heard since he had been in Dawson. To his surprise, he felt, at that very moment, Ruth Wright mattered even more to him than the gold. That frightened him.
She looked down at the bread in her hand. “I don’t love him. In the Yukon, that doesn’t seem to be a logical reason to decline a proposal. Widows are marrying the first respectable man who asks, some women are coming here from advertisements in newspapers, others are simply fortune hunters drifting in. . . .” Her words trailed as her cheeks colored.
The latter description was obviously a referral to the women who had set up shop on the back street in the world’s oldest profession. He leaned back in the chair and looked at her.
“But you aren’t like any of those women. You are a very special woman and you have a lot to offer. Don’t settle for less than you want, Ruth. Don’t let loneliness or hard times force you into a commitment that would not make you happy.”
She looked up at him. Her eyes softened and she began to smile. “Thank you for speaking words I very much needed to hear. You see, I feel I would be cheating the other person as much as myself. Maybe I’m just a romantic at heart, but if I can’t enter into a commitment that brings me happiness and joy, I’d prefer to remain single. I’m speaking very personally,” she added, looking away. “It’s just that Mrs. Greenwood and—”
“And Arthur Bradley, I imagine—”
“Yes. They think I should be considering my security and safety. I am constantly reminded that it is unsafe for a single woman to live in a large house, as I do, where medicine has been kept and where so many desperate people have come to our door. Some of those men have been out in the bush and don’t know my father has died.”
He leaned forward, pushing his plate away, concerned for her now. He hadn’t considered the importance of what she was saying, and he felt like a fool for not having thought of it.
“That does make sense,” he said. “I mean, about your safety. But you don’t have to marry someone just to insure your safety. Why don’t you take in boarders? Some of these other widows you just mentioned. It seems to me they should be banding together with each other rather than jumping at the first offer to marry a man, when many of those men will be out in the bush half the time, anyway. Unless they’re merchants,” he added, “which would make more sense.”
“I thought about it,” she said, nodding slowly. “But the truth is, I enjoy being alone. I suppose that’s a selfish attitude, but I can last until spring on my own, and I do know how to use a gun,” she added with a little smile. “I’m quite certain I could never bring myself to use that gun, but it poses a threat.”
His mind was still lodged on the knowledge that there was some merit to Mrs. Greenwood and Bradley’s argument about her being alone in her particular situation. “It’s a large house for Dawson. Surely you could find one or two respectable women who could live with you, and there should be enough room.”
“There is,” she said, touching the linen napkin to her lips. She, too, had lost interest in the meal. “And you have a very good idea. I’ll give that some serious thought tomorrow.”
He was pleased to see that her eyes looked more hopeful now. For a moment, he feared Mrs. Greenwood had destroyed their evening.
“Good.” He couldn’t resist thinking about how it would be to come in from the mines to her home, to be there with her, enjoy her companionship as he was doing now. Just as quickly, he pushed the thought aside. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t allow himself to fall in love with Ruth Wright. He was here on a mission, and he couldn’t for one moment forget it.
“Thank you for inviting me to dinner,” she said as a waiter came to clear away their dishes.
“It’s been my pleasure, I assure you. Ivan doesn’t make a very good dinner companion,” he added, wanting to change the subject.
“Christmas Day is only two weeks away,” she said, looking around the restaurant. The sparse decorations in town practically ignored the season, but Ruth was determined to celebrate it as always. “Will you be returning to Dawson over the holidays?”
He frowned. “I’m ashamed to
admit that I hadn’t even thought about it.”
“You have a lot on your mind,” she acknowledged. “I just wanted to say that if you do, I’d be happy to share my Christmas meal with you.”
“That’s very nice of you,” he said, genuinely touched. “Are you saying you’ll be alone?”
She sighed. “I imagine Mrs. Greenwood will invite me to her house.”
He grinned at her. “You don’t seem too enthused by that.”
She said nothing; she merely smiled at him, but her eyes said it all.
“In that case, I’ll make it a point to return to town to spend Christmas Day with you. In fact, I’ll look forward to it.”
Her eyes brightened. “I can’t promise turkey, but I will do my best to have a meal comparable to the traditional feast.”
“Just being with you will be special enough,” he said, and for a moment their eyes locked.
She blinked and glanced down at her plate then back at him. “There’ll be a special church service that evening. Would you like to accompany me?”
He hesitated. In all honesty, he had to admit he had enjoyed the last service, and he knew some spiritual growth was needed in his life. “Yes, I would be happy to attend.”
She smiled and suddenly looked relieved. “Good.”
He glanced around and realized the dining room was emptying.
“Does Mrs. Taylor have a designated hour for closing?” he asked.
Ruth glanced around the room. “About now, I think.” She looked back at him and they both laughed. The time had flown by.
“Shall we go?” He stood up and came around to hold her chair. His eyes moved from her narrow shoulders to her tiny waist. She had lost quite a bit of weight since he first met her. Was it from lack of food, or did she miss her father that much?
A new resolve settled over him. If he could make this woman happy, he was certainly going to try. He might not ever meet anyone like her again. He was glad he had accepted her invitation to return for Christmas and attend church services.
He paid the ticket, six dollars for two meals, which might have been considered steep to some, but to him it had been a bargain. He decided to at least share that thought with her.
“This is the first meal I’ve enjoyed since my last one at your home.” He took her elbow and steered her back to the coat tree beside the door. As he helped her into her heavy cloak, his hands lingered on her shoulders for a second, and he found himself desperately wanting to put his arms around her, shield her from the night cold they were about to face. Instead, he forced himself to reach for his coat and hat.
“Then you should eat here again,” she said as he opened the door for her and they stepped onto the boardwalk.
“I think the company increased my enjoyment of the meal. So if I eat here again, I would need for you to join me.”
Her laughter flowed into the soft darkness. “I think I could manage to do that.”
They sauntered along, following the dim patches of light from the candles in windows decorated with pine cones and colorful bows. Joe was grateful for the short walk to her house, for he found himself thinking of her safety again as his eyes darted to open alleyways and the shadows of men leaning against a building farther down the street.
“Do you go out much?” he asked, tightening his grip on her arm.
“I only go out alone during the four to five hours of daylight.”
“What about to and from the clinic?” he asked, frowning.
“Arthur walks with me,” she said in a quiet voice.
“I see.” He was sure Bradley was more than happy for a chance to be with her, and he was suddenly fighting jealousy; but he told himself to stop behaving like an idiot and be glad for Ruth’s safety. He was glad there was a man to see her home.
“One really has to adjust to daylight and darkness here,” she said in a pleasant tone, as though she had long since conquered the problem. “At first the long daylight hours were such a novelty,” she said and leaned against his arm. “When we arrived in midsummer, we had twenty hours of daylight, and the days seemed to go on forever. I had difficulty going to bed when it was still light outside, but I solved the problem by covering my bedroom window with dark flannel.” She laughed softly, and her breath made a tiny circle of fog before her mouth as the cold air pierced their faces. “Now, I move around the house with a lantern in my hand most of the time.”
“Do you still have a supply of kerosene?”
“Yes, I’m fortunate there. Father was wise enough to stock us up on the most important basics. I’m grateful for that. I’m afraid I was quite ignorant about what we needed here.”
They had reached her front porch, but she seemed inclined to continue the conversation. “The editor of the Seattle paper published a letter for all people heading for the Klondike. The letter was a real blessing. The letter was from a woman in Skagway and listed the provisions a person should have before even considering a trip here. We followed her list precisely, even to my purchase of knickers to wear under skirts. It was a wise suggestion,” she added, laughing softly as they climbed the steps.
Joe remembered noticing the things most people referred to as bloomers peeking from under women’s dresses, and he saw the practicality of those in such cold country.
“I suppose you were accustomed to fancy petticoats and such,” he said, grinning at her.
She laughed at that. They were standing at the door, and she hesitated.
“You don’t need to feel compelled to invite me in for a cup of tea,” he said quickly. “Not that you would,” he added, hoping he hadn’t sounded too presumptuous.
“Take care of yourself, Joe Spencer,” she said, reaching for his hand.
Through their gloves, he could feel her firm grip and marveled at the courage of this remarkable woman. That thought prompted him to squeeze her hand gently.
“Thank you, Ruth. Please be careful,” he added, feeling more protective of her than ever. “In fact,” he looked at the dim light through the front window, “if you will allow me, I’d like to come in and check out the house for you. I’ll wait until you’ve lit more candles.”
“All right,” she said, turning to unlock the door. “That’s a very considerate thing for you to do, Joe.”
As he entered the quiet, dim house, he found himself suddenly thinking of Mrs. Greenwood and he glanced over his shoulder. He felt certain that at the moment she was probably peering through a window somewhere, wondering if Ruth was safe with him tonight.
The hallway echoed the hollow steps of his boots as he walked to the clinic, checking the locked door. He turned and looked up and down the hall, and as he did, he realized how quiet and lonely the house felt. He turned to Ruth, who was removing her cloak and placing it on the coat tree.
“You know, you are a very brave woman,” he said, voicing the thought that had been uppermost in his mind. “I’m afraid I hadn’t given much thought to your situation here. It’s good that you have friends who do think of that and are concerned for you.”
She shook her hair back and he stared at the rich auburn color highlighted by the glow of the lantern on the table. “I’m afraid Mrs. Greenwood is more concerned than I’d like her to be,” she said, looking perplexed.“But I know she means well, and I must continue to remind myself of that.”
“Let me check the upstairs for you,” he said, glancing at the stairs that rose into darkness. “You can wait here, if you like.”
Ruth looked at him and felt a bit of relief in having someone other than Arthur looking out for her. “All you’ll find is a few tumbled rooms,” she called after him.
She still kept the house immaculate, for she had little else to do to occupy her time, but she hadn’t been able to force herself to go through her father’s things to sort through and select what should be kept and what should be donated. She had begun the process but then stopped halfway, and now there were books stacked in little piles all over the living room floor.
She coul
d hear his footsteps overhead, slow and deliberate, as he moved from room to room. He was a kind and caring man, she decided, and this made her feel better about her undeniable attraction toward him. Her father had said they didn’t know him very well, and that had been true at the time. Now, however, she felt she knew him as well as anyone else in Dawson. Or rather, she knew him well enough to allow her heart to take the chance.
Hugging her arms against her, trying to offset the chill of the downstairs, she watched as his long legs descended the stairs; then her eyes moved upward to the broad chest in the white shirt and lingered on the gold sheen of his hair. As she met the deep blue eyes, her heart beat faster, and she turned to adjust the wick on the lantern.
“Everything looks fine,” he said, as he reached her side again. “Do me the favor of inviting a lady to share the house with you, please. Otherwise, I’m going to worry about you.”
She turned from the lantern and looked into his eyes. “Thank you. It’s comforting to know that you care.”
“I do care,” he said quickly.
She must have taken a step closer to him without realizing it, for he was suddenly standing very near to her. Or had he moved when she did?
He reached for her hand, and as her palms touched the thickness of his fur gloves, she could sense the strong masculinity of him, and for a moment, her thoughts flew wildly. She found herself wondering what it would be like to take shelter in his arms, rest her head against his broad chest, and feel the safety everyone felt she needed. More important to her was the opportunity to offset the terrible loneliness that engulfed her at times.
Had her thoughts brought the action about, or had he read something in her face and reached for her? Suddenly, she was standing with her head against his chest. She could feel the strength in his arms, and yet he was a gentle man. She sighed, unable to resist the pleasure of just having someone hold her. No, not just someone. It was Joe Spencer she wanted.
Silent Stranger Page 9
