Destiny - The Callahans #1

by Gordon Ryan

  As the evening ended, Teresa and Harold walked Katrina toward her bedroom, pausing for Teresa to give Katrina a quick hug and a kiss. “I’m so happy to have a new sister. I always wanted someone besides Miguel, since I grew up as the only girl on the hacienda. We’ll be great friends, I just know it.”

  Halfway to their room, Harold excused himself and walked back toward Katrina’s room, tapping lightly on the door. Katrina opened the door, stepping back inside as Harold entered and carefully closed the door. He stood silent, facing Katrina as she glared at him, her eyes blazing and her manner defying him to condone his actions. Katrina spoke first.

  “And when did you plan to tell me of this charade, Harold, after the children were born?” she demanded.

  Harold started to answer but ceased as Katrina held her hand in front of her face, palm facing Harold and fingers spread apart, turning her head so as not to hear his answer. “Not a word,” she demanded through clenched teeth. As she continued to speak, it was clear to Harold that she had taken the day to make some sense out of her discovery and to decide on her course of action.

  “I have honored my agreement to perform as if I were your sister, Harold,” the words coming in staccato, “and I will continue to do so as long as it is necessary. But, you will not see me alone again until this charade has ended and you have made your choice. Is that clear?” she demanded.

  Harold nodded his head slowly, his eyes on the carpet in front of her feet.

  “I understand it all now, Harold—your excommunication, the family’s decision to move to Mexico. I have no understanding, however, of what thought you took for our vows in the temple—my church membership, my feelings, or those of our coming child. This is not the way of the Lord, Harold, and I will have no part of it.”

  Harold interrupted her. “Katrina, the Lord is pleased . . .”

  “No, Harold,” she spat out. “The Lord is not pleased and neither am I. I will write my father and request his assistance in this matter. Whether I will stay or not is uncertain. Until that decision is reached, I will not dishonor you in front of your . . . ” she hesitated briefly, waiting until Harold raised his head to meet her eyes, “ . . . your new family,” she said, lowering her head a moment before resuming her stare directly at Harold—“as you have dishonored our family, Harold.”

  She waited silently as Harold stood quiet, unable or unwilling to respond. “I think you should leave now,” she said.

  “Katrina, I . . .”

  “Good night, Harold!”

  “Good night, Katrina. I am truly sorry it had to take place this way.”

  “Harold,” she said, folding her arms across her chest and continuing to stare directly at him, her five-foot-six frame as intimidating as she could make it, “I am truly sorry it had to take place at all.”

  17

  By early December, the Strombergs’ new home was completed, and Harold, Teresa, and Katrina had moved in. Teresa had noticed, but had not made mention of her observation, that Katrina took pains to avoid Harold. The two women, on the other hand, formed a firm friendship, riding through the countryside at every opportunity, with Teresa teaching Katrina about horses and Spanish saddles. By the end of December their occasional rides were accomplished in the buggy Teresa had originally used to bring Katrina into the hacienda. In her seventh month, Katrina’s pregnancy no longer permitted horseback riding.

  A week before Christmas, Magnus Stromberg arrived with the second contingent of colonists, bringing the total in New Hope to just over three hundred people from about eighty-five families. The residents of New Hope kept to themselves a good deal, but they did patronize local artisans, shopkeepers, and businesses in Mazatlán, a situation that enhanced the local economy, just as President Diaz had anticipated.

  If the local residents knew anything of the practice of polygamy among Mormons of an earlier day, nothing was made of it now. There had been some notice taken of the inordinately large number of women and children as compared to men. However, nothing had been said and no challenge to the colony’s practices had been issued.

  When Magnus arrived, accompanied by his wife, he stayed for a few days with Don Sebastian. In a frank discussion, Magnus explained to Señor Cardenas that he did indeed have three other wives with their children, and they were also being relocated to New Hope. They had been members of his household for many years, and he wanted to live out his life in Mexico without fear or pressure from church or government sources. Don Sebastian, while voicing his religious disagreement over the issue, nevertheless was a compassionate man and most understanding of Stromberg’s desires.

  Moving in temporarily with Harold, Teresa, and Katrina, Magnus brought his first wife into the household as well, arranging temporary accommodations for his three other families in New Hope, in housing that Harold had prepared prior to his father’s arrival.

  Christmas might have been a joyous occasion for all, except for the tension that Teresa noted between Katrina and her father, Magnus Stromberg. There was no evidence of affection, and, given the relationship that Teresa had with her own father, it seemed odd to her that Magnus never embraced his daughter or even paid much attention to her. Teresa came to the conclusion that Señor Stromberg disapproved so of Katrina’s unmarried status and her pregnancy that he couldn’t bring himself to forgive her.

  Determined to ease young Katrina’s burden, Teresa tried all the harder to build the friendship the two young women had formed, and Katrina responded warmly, confiding her feelings, as much as she could, to the gracious and loving Spanish woman.

  The most startling discovery Teresa made regarding Katrina’s strange behavior, came quite by accident. By the second week in February, Magnus and his wife had already moved into their unfinished home in New Hope. Accompanied by Miguel, on horseback, Teresa returned home unexpectedly one afternoon from a buggy ride to her father’s house. As they entered the house, they heard angry voices upstairs, coming from Katrina’s quarters. Not wishing to interfere in a brother and sister quarrel, they actually smiled at each other for a few moments, recognizing the argument as similar to those they’d had in earlier years. Miguel excused himself, saying he’d return the next day to talk to Harold about their cattle buying trip. Teresa slowly mounted the stairs, intent on reaching her own room without further embarrassing Harold and Katrina.

  Perceiving, however, that Katrina was near tears, Teresa moved quietly toward the sound of the quarrel, waiting for an opportune moment when she might intervene and try to calm things down. It was evident that Harold and Katrina were arguing over Katrina’s baby, confirmation to Teresa that the Strombergs were continuing to struggle with the idea of Katrina’s condition.

  “I refuse to agree to that, Harold,” Katrina screamed.

  “But there’s no other way, Katrina. The baby’s name will still be Stromberg,” he said.

  “As well it should be, Harold, it’s your baby,” she cried.

  Teresa paused at the door, her hand on the door knob, stunned by the accusation she had just heard. She turned, retracing her steps to her bedroom and closed the door behind her, totally confused by the revelation. Harold’s baby? His sister? Unsure how to deal with the issue, Teresa retrieved a woolen shawl to ward off the evening chill and went back downstairs, quietly leaving the house and walking to the stable. Roderigo had unhitched her horse and was grooming him following her ride with Miguel.

  “Roderigo, prepare the buggy, please. I’ll be going out again.”

  “Sí, Señora,” he replied.

  Pushing the horse, Teresa overtook Miguel about two miles from her father’s house, and explained that she felt she didn’t want to intrude on Harold’s argument with Katrina, and so she had decided to return to the Cardenases’ hacienda to spend the night. She’d return home in the morning, she said. Miguel laughed, calling her a coward for avoiding domestic issues in her own household.

  Instructing one of the Cardenases’ household staff to ride over to her home and advise Harold that sh
e would not be home until the morning, she went up to her old bedroom where she remained all evening and through the night.

  Teresa’s stay at her father’s hacienda stretched into four days, with Harold appearing the first morning for a scheduled trip with Miguel to buy cattle. They would be gone about ten days according to Miguel, and in the brief meeting Teresa had with Harold, he discerned nothing out of the ordinary, and Teresa did not divulge her newfound knowledge.

  Late on the evening of the fourth day, one of the servants from Harold’s home awoke the Cardenases’ household with news that Miss Stromberg was having her baby. Teresa was awakened by the disturbance downstairs and descended the stairs to discover what was happening. Calling for the midwife to get ready and instructing Manuel to rig the buggy, Teresa raced back upstairs and got dressed.

  When Teresa and Carmen, the midwife, arrived at Teresa’s home, Katrina was in deep labor.

  “She’s nearly six weeks early,” Teresa told Carmen.

  “Sí, Señora. We will do what we can,” Carmen said and went to work examining Katrina. Within moments she had identified that the baby was coming breech and told Teresa. The development was withheld from Katrina, who was experiencing painful contractions and unsure of how to proceed. Both women tried to calm Katrina down, Teresa sitting by her side with a damp cloth, and Carmen waiting at the foot of the bed, preparing to help deliver the child.

  Hours later, as light filtered through the drapes drawn over the window, signaling the arrival of dawn, Katrina slept soundly, the ordeal having exhausted her strength. Carmen had gone away with the stillborn son, and Teresa remained, fitfully dozing in a chair at the bedside. A small groan from Katrina awoke Teresa, who moved closer to the bed, reaching out to stroke Katrina’s pale face.

  Katrina opened her eyes and reached for Teresa’s hand. “The baby?” she asked, her eyes now wide in anticipation.

  Teresa held Katrina’s hand and sat without speaking, not knowing how to deliver the news. Looking into Katrina’s tired face, now filled with anxiety, Teresa felt a great wave of affection for this woman she had accepted as a sister. Choking with emotion, Teresa couldn’t speak, but her tears said it all. Katrina also began to cry, and the two women sat for awhile, holding hands and sharing the grief.

  Teresa’s mind reeled also with another concept—the relief brought about by knowing that the baby’s death provided a partial solution to the problem of its incestuous conception, something that had weighed almost constantly on her mind for the past four days.

  “Katrina, perhaps,” Teresa tried to say, “ . . . perhaps it is for the best,” she said.

  “What?” Katrina asked, confused at such a statement. “Why?”

  “Your brother’s child, I mean. Perhaps God took the matter into his own hands.”

  “What do you mean?” Katrina asked.

  “Katrina,” Teresa pleaded, “. . . I overheard the argument you had with Harold. Your brother’s child, Katrina . . . perhaps it’s for the best.”

  Understanding slowly dawned on Katrina. Not yet having come to terms with the loss of her baby, and weak with fatigue and sorrow, she had now to wrestle with this new accusation. Her mind raced: Somehow, Teresa has discovered the baby is Harold’s, and since she has the impression he is my brother, of course she would assume . . .

  “He’s not my brother, Teresa. He’s . . . he’s my husband.”

  Now it was Teresa’s turn to sit stunned. She stared in disbelief at Katrina for several long moments, then stood up from the bed, and moved to the window. Throwing open the heavy drapes and allowing the blinding light to diffuse the darkness of the room, Teresa asked incredulously, “Your husband?”

  “Yes, Teresa,” Katrina said weakly, “He’s deceived us both.”

  For long moments Teresa stood looking out the window as Katrina lay silently on the bed, her breathing coming in shallow drafts, her eyes closed as exhaustion took its toll. Finally, Teresa turned and walked back toward the bed. Watching Katrina sleep, she whispered softly, “Our husband . . . Our husband.”

  Before Harold returned from his trip inland, Katrina had recovered quite well physically, although the emotional toll had yet to fully register. The two women had shared much during the intervening days between the death of Katrina’s son and his father’s return.

  Some deep concerns were broached and the merits and demerits of plural marriage were thoroughly explored during their discussions. In the end, Teresa understood that Katrina had not known of Harold’s deception until her arrival in Mexico, and in fact, until the moment Teresa had introduced herself, Katrina thought that Harold’s reason for presenting her as his sister had been his concerns over the establishment of the colony and the need for him to be gone so frequently. Teresa saw no need to inform Katrina that most of Harold’s absences had been to stay with her in her father’s hacienda, north of Mazatlán.

  That both women were religiously opposed to plural marriage created a bond of sorts, beyond that which had been established as a result of the simple fact that they liked each other. Katrina, though several years younger than Teresa, and not of the nobility, was nevertheless a woman of growing intellect and charming disposition. Teresa found herself constantly in awe of Katrina’s ability to accept people and conditions with a positive outlook. Katrina’s early acceptance and even friendship toward Teresa had proved that no hostility existed. Teresa wasn’t certain, had she been the first wife, that she could have accepted Katrina in the same way.

  The final decision reached by both women, was that Harold was not to know of their knowledge, at least until after the birth of Teresa’s baby. Teresa’s move into the guest room, explained to Harold as having been suggested by the midwife to assure the rest necessary during her final weeks, was supported by the tragedy that had befallen Katrina and Harold’s first baby.

  So, as Harold arrived home toward the end of the second week of his trip, the conditions that greeted him were depressing. Katrina had lost her baby, Teresa had moved into isolation to protect her final weeks of pregnancy, and Harold found himself virtually alone in the house, as both women kept to themselves and shared their thoughts only with each other. All in all, it was not the situation Harold had contemplated when he thought of the establishment of New Hope and the reinstitution of the Principle, at least not as his father had explained it.

  18

  The winter beauty of Alaska was spectacular, and Tom almost immediately fell in love with the country. Although they were actually in Canada, most of the miners still referred to the area of the Yukon River and its tributaries as part of Alaska. The cold air provided wonderful visibility, and on a clear day, standing on the ridge above their claim, Tom could literally see for well over a hundred miles.

  He had seen beautiful mountain country while traveling through the Rockies the previous winter, but one evening in Alaska, he saw a spectacular phenomenon, such as he had never experienced. As the calendar advanced, it had grown dark earlier each evening, and then one night in late October, long after Tom had gone to sleep, he was awakened by a strange light shining through the wall of their tent. Thinking someone was searching their camp for gold, he pulled on his boots and jumper and carefully lifted the tent flap to peer outside. The air was bitterly cold, and the hair in his nostrils crackled, but the sight he beheld was the most fascinating he had ever seen. The thought even crossed his mind that perhaps the world was coming to an end; for the sky was ablaze with a kaleidoscope of vivid, constantly changing, colored lights. The effect was truly amazing, and awestruck by the vision before him, Tom watched the sky for some moments before thinking to alert John.

  Stepping back into the tent to wake John, he urged him to get out of bed and view the magnificent display. But taking one glimpse through the open flap, John simply rolled over and pulled his bedroll up around his ears, mumbling, “It’s just the northern lights, lad—‘God’s paint board,’ they call it. Go back to sleep.”

  Seeing no concern on the part of his uncle, To
m went back outside, no longer frightened that some catastrophic event was in progress. He spent the next several hours enjoying his first encounter with the aurora borealis, or “northern lights,” the luminescent nighttime display that can be observed north of the Arctic Circle in the winter months. For centuries, mankind had been startled and amazed by the natural phenomena and enthralled by its beauty. Many times throughout the winter, Tom found the show exciting enough to brave the cold and lose a few hours sleep to watch its cascading shadows.

  Tom learned that at that northern position, ice and snow were almost permanent fixtures. Even in late April, winter retained a fast grip on the land, and, according to the sourdoughs, most of whom still took pleasure in ribbing the young Irishman about his cheechako status, “old man winter kin throw a blanket ‘round you quicker’n a grizzly kin get mad and rip your heart out.”

  Through the fall and winter months, it was apparent that the tributaries on which Tom and his uncle had established their claims, were producing exceptionally fine gold and in quantities in excess of those being panned by Carmack and his brothers-in-law down on Bonanza Creek. Over a hundred miners had finally found their life’s dream, and through the winter of 1896–1897, they sat around the campfire at night, figuring how they were going to spend it. Many of the old-timers had been digging and scratching in the dirt and stream beds for nearly thirty years, ever since the United States purchased Alaska from Russia, eking out a sparse living off the land while they searched for gold. Ever gold.

  The previous October, in a celebration quite rare, since most miners worked through all daylight hours, and as much also as they could by lamplight in the dark, the small cluster of men around Emerald One and Emerald Two had gathered to usher Tom through his twenty-first birthday.