“Who?”
“Joe Spencer. He’s a friend who suggested I take in a boarder, although I didn’t think I needed one.”
Dorie nodded. “By the way, I haven’t asked how much you charge.”
Ruth hadn’t even thought about it. “Having someone in the house with me is payment enough.”
“Oh no.” Dorie frowned, thoroughly rumpling her forehead again. “That’s no way to do business, friend. I can pay you a dollar a day if that sounds fair.”
“That’s too much,” Ruth said, even though she knew it was lower than Dorie would pay anywhere else in Dawson. Still, as she had said to Joe, she and her father had not come here to get rich.
“It’s only fair,” Dorie insisted. “I’m going to be eating with you, and I’ve already heard about the scarcity of groceries, so we have to be practical here.”
Ruth hesitated. “All right. I will need boat passage in the spring, so I can use the money to start saving up for my fare.”
“You’re leaving then?”
For a fleeting moment, the image of Joe Spencer flashed through Ruth’s mind. Still, she knew she could not plan her life around him unless there was reason to do so. “I’m planning to leave, yes.”
“Don’t blame you,” Dorie said. “I’ll probably be on the boat as well. When do they think the earliest passage might come about?”
Ruth thought of the conversations she had heard around town. “Most people think it will be late May before the Yukon thaws out enough for a boat to get through.”
Dorie groaned. “And this is December. Sounds like forever. Well, I’m off to run some errands. Can I pick up anything for you?”
“No thanks.” Ruth smiled. She was already feeling the relief of having someone to endure the winter with her, to help with food and errands, and offset the long, dark days and nights.
“Then I’m gone.” At that, Dorie hurried out of the kitchen.
Ruth lingered at the table, listening to her footsteps flying down the stairs. She marveled that she had the energy to move after such a grueling journey.
As she took the cups and plates to the sink, she thanked God for sending Dorie Farmer to her door. And she added a word of thanks for Joe Spencer, as well. He was proving to be a blessing in her life, and she was grateful for that.
❧
Joe had ridden back to camp with the good news that their claim was going to be a rich one. He had deposited almost three thousand dollars in their joint account and had given Ivan the deposit slip to prove the money had been deposited.
“Our supplies came to almost seven hundred dollars, doing the best I could to save us money,” he explained.
“Robbers,” Ivan grumbled. “The shopkeepers are robbers.”
Joe sighed. “True, but without them, we couldn’t mine and we’d starve to death, so we have to pay their prices.”
“And they know it,” Ivan fussed. He looked Joe over. “You are tired. I will unload,” he said in his matter-of-fact way.
Kenai trotted up to lick Joe’s hand, and he knelt, stroking the thick fur and looking into the dog’s soulful eyes. “Some-one asked about you, Kenai,” Joe said softly. “A very pretty someone.”
He petted Kenai for a few more minutes then dragged himself inside the cabin and collapsed on his cot. Every bone in his body ached from the hurried trip into Dawson and back and all the errands and business he had tried to cram into his short stay there.
Ruth slipped across his mind, a warm comfort as the wind howled about the eaves of the cabin. Stretching his aching legs, he closed his eyes. To offset the cold and the weariness in his bones, he allowed himself the pleasure of imagining her hazel eyes shining up into his and feeling the soft touch of her hand. He had practically fought himself to keep from touching her thick hair, and it had been an even greater struggle to keep from kissing her more than once.
He heaved a sigh. She was a fine wonderful woman but one he couldn’t have. Or could he? First, he must come to grips with his personal life before he allowed himself to think about Ruth.
For the hundredth time, he longed to go back in time to that fateful night in Skagway. If only he had not been so stupid, so impulsive. The pain of regret stabbed him unmercifully, worse than any physical pain he had ever experienced. If only there was some way to change his past, to make amends. Then he could begin a new future with Ruth. . .well, at least he would be in a position to ask her. . .what? To marry him? Was that what he wanted? A future with Ruth?
Throughout the night, he tossed and turned, trying to sleep; but for most of the night, sleep eluded him. When he heard Ivan stumbling around, lighting candles, signaling it was time for their work day to begin, he regretted wasting precious rest time, trying to make sense of his life.
❧
Ruth had worked side by side with Arthur, busily caring for one patient after another until the day finally ended. They hadn’t even stopped for lunch, only a quick cup of tea here and there throughout the day. When the last patient left, Ruth sank into a chair, exhausted.
“Ruth, it isn’t fair to ask you to work these long, grueling hours,” Arthur said.
“It isn’t as though either of us has a choice, Arthur. Who else will tend these sick people? And they seem to be multiplying,” she said, shaking her head as she stared into space.
He sighed, dropping his thin frame into the chair opposite her. “I wish I had never come here,” he said dully.
She frowned, focusing on him through eyes that ached with the need for sleep. “I know you have regrets about losing your wife, but are you saying you regret being a doctor here?”
He nodded. “I’m not cut out for this kind of work. Perhaps I would be happier in a hospital setting. I know for sure I can’t bear this awful town.”
Ruth listened to him and compared her own feelings with his as he spoke. “I don’t mind Dawson that much, and I feel truly rewarded from caring for these people. I don’t understand why you don’t.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, either. But I don’t.”
His mouth sagged with defeat, and his thin face looked pale and drawn.
“Arthur, I recall Father suggesting that you read Paul’s epistles. Do you read your Bible at all now?”
He stared at the floor and shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
“I believe you would find comfort by reading the Bible. God will help you, Arthur, if only you’ll turn to Him.”
He lifted his face and looked at her. “He hasn’t helped me much so far.”
The bitterness in his voice shocked her. She was trying to find the right words to respond when he answered her thoughts.
“I lost my wife, and then when I met you, I hoped I might find happiness again. However,” he sighed, returning his gaze to the floor, “you’ve made it quite clear that you have no interest in me whatsoever.”
“That’s not true. I am interested in you as a friend, Arthur. Can’t we be friends?”
For several seconds he didn’t answer. Then when he lifted his eyes to her, she saw the pain in his face.
“No, we can’t be. You don’t know what it’s like,” he said miserably, “working side by side with someone who can never belong to you. It’s like looking through a shop window, seeing something bright and lovely, and wanting it with all of your heart. Then the truth cuts like a knife: you can never have what you want. Why, Ruth?” he said, his voice rising. “Why do you have to be so unreasonable? Can’t you see that we should be together? That we could make each other happy?”
“No, I can’t see that. And in time, I think you will find someone with whom you will be happy. But I’m not that someone.”
“I think you are.”
She thought he was being stubborn, but she was too weary to argue. She pushed herself out of the chair and walked to the coat tree. “I’m going home for the night. I think you need to get some rest, as well.”
He stood and walked over to help her with her cloak, but then his arms lingered on her sh
oulder. “Ruth, please give me a chance,” he said, turning her to face him.
“Arthur, there’s no point in talking about this,” she said, beginning to feel angry now that he was being so persistent.
Then he surprised her by pulling her against his chest and pressing his lips to hers.
Shocked, then angered even more, she put her hands on his chest and pushed him away.
“Don’t ever touch me again,” she said, glaring at him. “Until now, I have considered you a friend. But I’m not sure I think of you that way anymore.”
She was out the door before he could say anything more. She started trudging home, not caring about the cold and the darkness or the fact that she was alone. Soon she heard footsteps racing up behind her, and Arthur had caught up.
“You shouldn’t walk home alone,” he said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his overcoat.
She did not reply; she was still too angry. Quickening her steps, she said nothing to him until they reached her front porch. Looking up and seeing the lights in the window, she was more grateful than ever that Dorie Farmer was boarding with her.
“Good night,” he said. “And again, I am sorry.”
She turned back to him, having made a decision during the cold walk home. “Arthur, I’ve been thinking about what you said about the. . .difficulty of our working together. I think it’s best if I resign from being your nurse. Mrs. Westhoover can help you. I believe she was a nurse a number of years ago in Toronto.”
“But Ruth, I’ve apologized!”
She took a deep breath, feeling the cold air sting her lungs. “And I accept your apology. If you will be gracious about my resignation, I’m willing to keep what happened tonight between us. I see no point in discussing it further—with you or anyone else.” She turned and walked up the steps to her front door. “And I hope you’ll start reading your Bible.”
She left him standing at the foot of the porch steps, staring after her with tears in his eyes.
The next morning, bright and early, Mrs. Greenwood was pounding on her door. Dorie had already left to visit the local newspaper and Ruth was having a second cup of tea.
“Good morning, Mrs. Greenwood,” Ruth said as she opened the door.
Mrs. Greenwood rushed inside, bringing with her the icy chill of December. She was bundled in heavy scarf and mittens, and the tip of her nose and her round cheeks were red from the cold.
“Ruth,” she said, peering at her with watery blue eyes, “I just heard from Arthur that you’ve resigned from the clinic. Why did you do that? Don’t you realize how much you are needed there?”
Ruth tried to suppress a deep sigh. “Mrs. Greenwood, would you like to come up for a cup of tea?” she asked in a voice that sounded more calm than she felt, in comparison to Mrs. Green-wood’s breathless chatter.
“No, I haven’t time. Why, Ruth? Why did you quit?”
Ruth sidestepped the question. “I’m not the only nurse in Dawson, Mrs. Greenwood. Arthur can get someone else to assist him at the clinic. Frankly, I’m worn out. We’ve worked long, tedious hours, and I really haven’t had a chance to rest since losing my father.”
Mrs. Greenwood tilted her head as she listened, thoughtfully taking in this bit of information.
“Well, yes. I know it’s been difficult. But. . .” Her voice trailed as she seemed to have bogged down in her argument in Arthur’s defense.
“Please don’t concern yourself,” Ruth said, her voice a bit firmer now. “I’m sure Dr. Bradley will manage without me.”
A frown rumpled Mrs. Greenwood’s brow as her watery blue eyes searched Ruth’s face again. “He really cares for you, Ruth.”
Ruth arched an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with my being a nurse?”
Mrs. Greenwood shifted from one foot to the other, and for a moment her eyes darted over the hallway. “I just wouldn’t want to see Dr. Bradley get hurt. He’s such a nice guy.”
Ruth’s mouth fell open. “What about my feelings, Mrs. Greenwood? Or is that not important? Are we only thinking of Dr. Bradley here?”
For a moment, Mrs. Greenwood was at a loss for words. Then she found her voice, and her tone was edged with anger. “Mr. Greenwood and I feel it only fair to mention something, considering your father is no longer here to look out for you.”
Ruth felt her back stiffen, and she knew they were about to get to the real purpose for Mrs. Greenwood’s visit.
“That stranger you were with the other night—”
“His name is Joe Spencer, and he isn’t a stranger to me. He visited the house when my father was alive; he even accompanied us to the midweek prayer service.”
Mrs. Greenwood cleared her throat. “Well, the point is, he’s collecting money on a claim that isn’t even registered in his name.”
Ruth gasped. “You mean you’ve already checked up on him?”
Mrs. Greenwood’s face, already flushed from the cold, grew even redder. “Well, Mr. Greenwood was waiting for me at the door of the restaurant when I saw you two together. He said the next day he came in and collected money—quite a bit of it—on a claim that is registered to an Ivan Bertoff. He made no explanation of—”
“Did Mr. Greenwood inquire about this?” Ruth asked, unable to control her anger. She’d had quite enough of this woman’s prattle, which extended beyond concern. She was being rude and critical of someone she knew nothing about.
“No, he—”
“Then perhaps I should remind you of what I told you during our Thanksgiving meal. Mr. Spencer has a partner in the claim, Ivan Bertoff. Since Mr. Greenwood has already checked, I’m sure he knows the claim is filed under Mr. Bertoff’s name. Mr. Spencer takes care of the business end of their partnership. I see nothing sinister about that. If Mr. Bertoff has no objections, I can’t see why anyone else should.”
Mrs. Greenwood’s eyebrows hiked at those words, and an ugly sneer contorted her features.
“Well, the way you are rushing to his defense obviously betrays your feelings, Ruth. I’m shocked that you would take up with someone you know so little about. A miner, as compared to a man like Dr. Bradley.”
“Mrs. Greenwood, I am not ‘taking up,’ as you put it, with anyone who is disreputable. Even so, I think I am the one to judge my friends, rather than you and Mr. Greenwood. I know you mean well, but I have begun to feel pressured to encourage Dr. Bradley’s attention. I won’t do that. While I respect his profession, I have no interest in him as a suitor. So maybe we can put that matter to rest, once and for all.”
Mrs. Greenwood turned for the door. “In that case, I’ll be leaving. You obviously resent my concern. I was mistaken to think you appreciated the fact that we cared about you, but I see that I have misjudged you. You are far too headstrong for your own good, young lady.” Flinging that parting shot over her shoulder, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Ruth glared at the door, seething with anger. She fought an urge to yank the door open and tell her if she cared about her, she should be checking on Arthur Bradley rather than Joe Spencer. At least she hadn’t had to wrestle herself out of Joe’s embrace, whereas Arthur had made a grab for her, practically forcing himself on her.
At the same time, she knew it would be unfair to speak her mind when she was angry, particularly after she had promised Arthur to say nothing of what had happened.
Turning, she rushed back up the stairs to the kitchen, trying to regain her composure. It took another cup of tea and a few minutes of introspection before she finally came to the conclusion that perhaps she had saved all of them time and trouble by stating her case. She did not want to be invited to any more of Mrs. Greenwood’s dinners and have her trying to play Cupid. Furthermore, it would be a relief not to have the Greenwoods breathing down her neck. It was time someone let Mrs. Greenwood know that her busybody antics were not appreciated.
Despite her argument with herself, she was still feeling frustrated and listless when Dorie sailed in an hour later.
�
�I just met Kate Carmack!” Dorie said, grabbing a teacup and helping herself to tea. “Do you know her?”
Ruth was relieved to have a pleasant diversion from her conversation with Mrs. Greenwood.
“Yes. Her husband George and her brother Skookum Jim came to the clinic when we first opened. Both men were suffering from influenza.”
“They’re the ones who first discovered gold here, isn’t that right?”
“So far as I know, yes, they were the first ones. Skookum Jim and Tagish Charlie are of the Tagish tribe, you know. They teamed up with George Carmack and discovered the first gold on Rabbit Creek. It’s now called Bonanza Creek.”
“I’m fascinated with Kate,” Dorie said, propping her chin in her hand and staring into space.
“I want to do an article on her—the first woman in the Klondike gold fields. The people at home will be fascinated. What’s even more interesting is her background. She was raised in the south central region here. She lost her first husband and their infant daughter, she told me.”
“That’s right,” Ruth nodded. “They died of influenza, which is why she insisted on George and Skookum Jim seeing a doctor. Kate’s a remarkable woman who kept the men in supplies by taking in laundry and sewing and selling moccasins to the miners. She also picked berries and set traps for rabbits. I’ve heard from several people that without her, her husband and brother could not have survived the first desperate winter here.”
Dorie shook her head. “It’s amazing what women will do for their men.”
Ruth sipped her tea, thinking about that. Until Joe Spencer, she had never met anyone who would inspire her to take in laundry or sew or do any of the grueling tasks that were common to so many of the women whose husbands were miners. Still, when a woman really cared for a man, she could see that the tasks that seemed so difficult at least had purpose.
“I should add that it’s also very amazing what doctors and nurses do for people,” Dorie added, smiling across at Ruth. “I admire you so much, Ruth.”
“Do you?” Ruth asked, surprised.
Silent Stranger Page 11
