In the Land of Gold
Page 6
“Return to Sender, written in your handwriting, Mother.”
She let the envelopes fall to the floor, one by one, not acknowledging them at all.
“Your father and his widowed whore can rot for all I care.”
Anne stepped forward, but I blocked her. “Just leave, Mother, just leave. I have nothing else to say to you.” Ordering her proved a boundary only a fool would toy with, but I toyed with it. “I will return to Seattle in a few days.”
She grabbed my arm, leaned in so close her nose was inches from mine, and growled through gritted teeth. “Cora, if you stay another minute here with her, I don’t ever want to see you again. You will be dead to me, do you understand?”
Yielding to Mother after such a threat was the last thing I desired to do. My life would never be my own if I did.
“Do you mean that?” I asked with a hint of defiance even though my heart pounded.
Was I ready for her to mean it? Was I ready for her to banish me from her life? Was I ready to live with the repercussions of my actions?
“Yes, I do. If you don’t leave with me this very moment and go after Christopher begging for his forgiveness, then don’t ever return to Seattle.”
My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach as her words stole my breath. I glanced over my shoulder and caught sight of the envelope Mr. Tillman handed to me. My eyes traced my named etched in pencil in my father’s handwriting.
Next to the envelope lay the black leather bankbook. Two gifts from a man I didn’t know, but in this moment, knew better than the woman who raised me.
I hooked my arm in Mother’s and smiled as I lead her to the door. She hesitated, giving me a distrustful look, but then returned my smile. Weak at first, the closer we stepped toward the door, it spread into an almost evil smile as though she believed she had won a game and was collecting her prize.
I opened the door, unhooked my arm, and placed my hand on the middle of her back. I pressed against her, gently, but as she stepped through the threshold, I nearly shoved her. She turned to face me and her smile vanished.
“Good bye, Mother.”
I slammed the door in her face and bolted the lock, stepping away slowly as she banged on the wood and screamed. Her shrieks faded as my future beckoned.
Seattle was my past. Tacoma was my past. Christopher, Mother, and the whole life I’d lived the last twenty-four years were my past. Canada was my future.
Chapter 7
“Your ticket, Miss. You’ll board the ship down the pier to your left.”
“Thank you.” My hand trembled as my fingers fetched the ticket through the iron bars of the agent’s window. After waiting in line for nearly an hour, the small piece of thick paper finally rested in my hands. Anne and I stepped away from the ticket counter and headed toward the boarding ramp.
Hundreds of people bustled around the boat dock, shoving their way around through the crowd. Hot tempers sparked and flared into screaming matches between men in the mass confusion and chaos.
A few women dressed in dirty rags and ripped clothing scowled as we passed, even though I nodded and smiled. They squatted around their rusted, old trunks, guarding their shoulder-type packs resting atop the chests.
Drawing wraps over their shoulders, they sat slumped, and looked discouraged. A tiny part of me didn’t blame them.
Men strode around Anne and me in all directions. Most, mumbling under their breath through their long beards, talking about the excitement of the Klondike, and the riches that surely awaited them.
“Can you spare some change?” an old man asked, sitting against the deckhouse. He held a rusty tin can up in the air. His teeth were missing, he had a black patch over one eye, and his dirty clothes hung loosely, too big for the body of skin and bones underneath them. I dropped a few coins in the can and he smiled. “Thank ya, much appreciated.”
Anne clutched my arm as we continued down the dock. The excitement built an anxious energy in us both, and she noticed as I did, that our stride was at a near run through the crowd. Giggling to each other, we slowed our pace.
As we passed another large group of men, a salesman waved a few papers in the air and called out to anyone who would listen.
“Deeds. I got deeds for sale. Guaranteed gold on site.”
His tongue rolled on the letter ‘r’ in a familiar accent—an Irish accent that made my heart drop to my stomach.
I spun around to search for the man’s face.
Is it him?
A few men moved away from the salesman, revealing the source of the voice, and although the man wasn’t the handsome Mr. O’Neill, I stared at him, and listened to every syllable he uttered.
Much to my annoyance, Mr. O’Neill had wondered through my thoughts each passing day since that night in the old bar. Of course, the chance of ever seeing him again dwindled beyond doubtful—not that I cared.
With the gift of freedom from a pointless marriage came the price of casting love aside. A cost I happily paid, for a life of love and marriage was far from what I considered necessary.
No, striking out on my own, finding my own way, taking care of myself, and making my own home was all I needed. Thinking of the gorgeous man in the bar was pointless—thinking of any man was pointless.
“You know, Cora, you don’t have to leave. You can stay here with me. Stay as long as you want, forever even, if that is your wish.” Anne offered.
I smiled at her. The last few days in her company had been a breath of fresh air. Her very essence humbled one’s anxiety, lifted dark clouds, and calmed the brewing storms. She left me in an emotional bliss that was addicting, and for the first time, I understood why my father loved her.
She was easy to love.
“I know I don’t have to leave, Anne, but I just—” I bit my tongue. For the second time in my life, I lacked the answer. Why did I need to travel away from everything I knew? Leaving Tacoma proved just as illogical as leaving Seattle, and yet again, I based my convictions on feelings.
“I understand.” She stroked my arm in a soft caress. “You are your father’s daughter. He would have been proud of your desire to strike out on your own.” She dabbed her face with her handkerchief and then folded it, tucking it into the side pocket of her tattered handbag. “I envy you, Cora, I really do. I certainly couldn’t handle such a decision, but then I’m an old woman who likes the comforts of her home,” she laughed.
I nodded, unable to say another word. Father’s loss, and all the wasted time we could have spent knowing one another, weighed heavy in this moment. The thought of losing Anne, my only beacon of strength, overwhelmed me.
“Ouch!” Anne yelped as she collided into me.
“Excuse me,” grumbled an older man. He bent and fetched the wooden handle of a pickaxe where it had landed after falling on Anne’s foot. “You all right?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she nodded.
He gave her a sideways glance, then hooked the axe back onto the strap of his pack and walked off through the crowd.
She wiggled her foot for a moment, but smiled and pressed on dragging me behind her. “Let’s get you to your ship, shall we?”
Glancing around, my eyes focused not on the men and women surrounding me, but on the packs on each of their backs loaded with unknown items and with pickaxes and ropes dangling from the hemp waste belts—tools meant for unearthing gold.
My intentions never rested with gold—at least not at the moment. With money not a worrisome issue, should the whim strike, surely, I could simply hire someone when I decided to mine my claim.
A consideration after I settle my home.
Suddenly, one crucial question punched me, stopping me in my tracks.
“Cora, what’s wrong?” Anne asked.
“Is there a house on the claim?”
What am I doing? I should have my head examined.
My breathing quickened. The crowd, the dock, the ship, all around me started to spin and cave in on me. My knees nearly buckled under my weight. I throttled a scream, and for a second I thought of running away.
Anne squeezed my arm. “Cora?”
I couldn’t answer her, look at her, or even move. Panic pounded down on me. Without a doubt, the answer to the problem of not having a house on my claim would be to build one, but who would build it? And how much would it cost?
Suddenly, dilemmas began popping through my mind. One after another, a never-ending list of quandaries I couldn’t think long enough on to come up with resolutions.
“Cora, look at me. What is wrong? Do you need a doctor? You’re as pale as a bed sheet.”
Anne’s terrified expression brought my focus back to my surroundings. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m just . . . a little nervous, that’s all, and I just need a moment to catch my breath.”
I kneeled upon the dock and buried my face in my hands. The lace on my gloves scratched my skin as my fingers rubbed my temples.
Calming myself, I noticed several large dogs nearby. The mongrels barked and howled across the deck. Some were tied to the railing while others jumped around in wooden crates stacked on top of each other. Bearded men stood near them, exchanging greetings and money with other men.
The cacophony pounded and vibrated, teasing the madness and confusion in my head. I wanted to scream at them, and at everyone around me to stop, to be quiet, and just let me figure out what to think and do.
“Only a strong person could make the choice you’ve made.” Anne placed a hand on my shoulder. “You’re a brave woman, Cora. You should be proud.”
I looked up at her. She was right. I could do this, to be strong like Grace, to decide my own life and destiny. This was my chance to break through the weakness I loathed. As much as the panic still lingered, I couldn’t ignore Anne’s encouragement. I stood once more, clutched her hand, and continued toward the boarding ramp.
Surely, Dawson City had to have a hotel—it was a city after all. Perhaps, living in town would prove a better choice, and an easier manner in which to make acquaintances.
I wasn’t a child. I was an adult.
Smart and capable, whatever problem arose, I would deal with it and fix it. And, if I couldn’t, for some reason or another, I could ask someone.
By the time we finally reached the line of passengers waiting to board, my heartbeat had calmed a bit, at least enough that I could breathe normally. The tension in my shoulders eased to some extent, and I released the death grip I had on Anne’s poor hand.
Along the dock next to the boat, dozens of horses stood in rows, all waiting to be loaded into crates and lifted onto the boat.
Their wild, white eyes reflected their fear, and although most showed little emotion, a few danced around on the line. Every so often, one would rear up and bite at another like a wild stallion defending his herd.
A few times, the bitten victims kicked and struck out at the attacker causing a back and forth war between them. Their hooves pranced on the wooden dock, dangerously close to the loose nails sticking from the worn boards.
The only calm animals were the cattle tied along the dock near the horses. Though they were quick to move should the occasional horse hoof fly through the air, they remained unnerved by the bustle going on around them.
One by one, uniformed men loaded each animal into wooden crates and hoisted them on board by block and pulley system.
Forced to travel in a space hardly bigger than them, the crates swayed with each trip as the animal fought against the movement, trying to balance itself. Their wild eyes flashed in between the railed boards.
Anne walked me to the ramp entrance.
“You take care of yourself, now, ya hear?”
Once again, she dabbed at the tears threatening to stream down her cheeks and gave me a half-hearted smile, trying her best to shield her concern.
“I will.”
As she squeezed me in a tight hug, a man in a blue sailor uniform passed us and tipped his hat. “Best get on board, Miss, if you want to get through the crowd.”
“Yes, sir.” Turning my attention back to Anne, my heart sank. “I hate saying good bye. It’s always difficult, but saying it to you is . . . I just . . . I just want to thank you for everything.”
“You’re very welcome, my dear. And, I have something for you.”
She withdrew a faded black and white photograph from her bag. The corners were frayed and torn in a few places. A handsome, regal man stared back at me from the image on the paper as he held a tiny baby.
On the back of the photograph, the words ‘John and Cora, six months’ were etched in faded handwriting. The man looked proud and happy even though the baby, me, was obviously screaming its head off.
She sighed. “He carried this with him where ever he went. Don’t ever think there was a second you didn’t cross his mind.”
“Thank you.” My eyes misted and I fought back tears.
“Cora, not meeting you would have been the biggest regret of my life. I’m so glad you boarded that train.”
“I’m glad, too.”
She smiled and wiped her tear-soaked face. “Oh, this is silly. Now, you go get on that boat. Be safe, and write to me when you can.”
“I will.”
She squeezed my hand and pressed on the small of my back, pushing me away from her and toward the boat. Giving her one last fleeting glance over my shoulder, I waved.
My heart pounded as the water below lapped in between the boat and the dock. With a quick prayer to the heavens, I scaled the swaying ramp. My hands trembled as I gripped the railing and breathed deeply to calm my nerves until I finally reached the top, then stepped upon the deck of the SS Willamette.
Weaving through the crowd, I inched my way to the bow of the ship. Steam poured from the ships stack, billowing into the air and vaporizing within seconds.
Hay bales stacked tall on the deck obstructed the view from the bridge and took up most of the space, while the animal crates and trunks stole the rest. I wedged myself into a small open corner, and the boat railing rubbed against my waist as I searched for Anne.
From the dock, people screamed good-byes and waved to their family members aboard the ship. Reporters lined the crowd, and light flashed from their cameras as they took their desired photographs. Anne stood with them all. Her tear-streaked cheeks glistened in the sun as she waved—her enthusiasm endearing.
My stiff upper lip began to soften, then tremble, even though I fought against it.
No. I won’t yield to my weakness.
Boatmen grabbed the ramp and cast it aside. It fell with a hard thump onto the dock below. The boat whistle blew three short blasts. The paddles began churning through the water, and with a straining lurch, the vessel glided from its berth.
I held my breath as long as my lungs allowed. Anne ran along the dock as far as she could—waving and wiping her tears. I closed my eyes, and the day of my father’s funeral fluttered through my mind, reminding me of the reason for my journey.
Opening my eyes, the dock had vanished from sight. The certainty hit me that I would probably never see Anne again, and my heart hurt.
I would miss her every day of the rest of my life.
The boat slowly chugged away from land, building speed in the open water. Mount Tacoma stood in the distance, majestic and snow capped, in the cooler temperatures of September. The white snow glistened in the sun against the blu
e sky and dark green treetops of the forest—a beautiful sight that eased my manic mind.
Inhaling a deep breath, I closed my eyes again.
“And, just what do yeh think yeh are doing on this vessel?” asked a stern voice from behind me. The familiar roll of the letter ‘r’ sent my heart racing.
I whipped around and came face to face with the handsome Irishman, Flynn O’Neill. Once again, his piercing brown eyes stole my breath away. The handle of my bag slipped through my fingers, and it plummeted to the deck with a thud.
“Why are yeh on this vessel?” Flynn asked again. Hints of annoyance replaced his seductive mocking tone from the night in the bar.
“I’m traveling to Skagway. Well, I’m traveling to Dawson City, but I have to travel to Skagway first, or so I was informed.” I tightened the wrap around my shoulders. “I . . . I broke off my engagement.”
He chuckled and pinched the bridge of his nose. “He left it to yeh, didn’t he?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Yeh father, John Colton, he left yeh that claim of his, didn’t he?”
“How do you know my father’s name?” I backed away from him as my hand settled over my heart and pressed against the racing beats. “Are you following me? Why? What is it that you want?” My voice rose an octave.
Flynn held up his hands. “Now, just wait one moment. I ain’t following no one. Happening upon yeh was purely an accident.”
“But you approached me in the bar.”
“I didn’t know who yeh were until yeh told me yeh name. I came here to bring your father’s belongings to his wife, Anne.”