Rivers of Gold

by Tracie Peterson

  Two hours later the cart was packed and the dogs were rested and ready to go again. Adrik knew if he never saw this land again, it would be perfectly fine with him. He longed for the simplicity of his life on the Alaskan coast.

  They had what Adrik had been certain was several thousand dollars worth of dust and nuggets by now. As angry as the greed represented by the ore made Adrik, he knew he’d have to rely upon its bounty for a while longer. It was going to have to get them home and then some. They’d be able to buy the supplies they needed and the rest could be given away, as far as Adrik was concerned.

  Adrik planned to send Gump’s half to his family in Kansas, but first he’d have to convince the Mounties that he had a right to the gold. That might not be so easy to do in light of what had happened.

  Karen wanted only her family Bible and a few sentimental trinkets she’d collected along the way. Leah asked Adrik to get Jacob’s change of clothes and his winter boots, along with her things. He did this, wishing he’d been there for the boy when this tragedy had happened. There was no doubt in his mind of Jacob’s innocence. What there was doubt about was who had been responsible.

  “You two are going to ride,” he said, lifting Leah into the cart. “I know it will be a tight fit, but we need to make good time. Jacob’s already been all this time without us and he must be feeling pretty frantic by now. I’ve packed the gold under everything, but you should be comfortable enough. I put some blankets, along with our clothes, down as a cushion.”

  Karen and Leah nodded in understanding. “We’ll be fine,” Karen assured him. She let Adrik help her into the cart and smiled. “We’ve forgotten only one thing.”

  Adrik looked back to the cabin, then to Karen. “What?”

  “Prayer.”

  Adrik knew she was right. He felt the warmth of God’s presence even in her words. They hadn’t thought to pray. They had waited until their fleshly needs were met—their criteria and agenda tended to—and then they had thought of prayer.

  Adrik pulled off his hat, in spite of the fact that it had started to snow. Bowing his head, he started the prayer with an apology. “Lord, we’re sorry for thinking of you last. We know it isn’t the way we’re supposed to be. We let ourselves get caught up in the moment. We saw the problem, instead of the answer-giver. Forgive us.

  “And Father, we ask that you would be with Jacob just now. Sustain his faith, Lord. This has to be a terrifying time for him. He’s probably confused and scared, and Lord, I just ask that you would strengthen him. Make your presence real in his life, and help us to help him. I don’t believe for one minute that he killed Gumption. I don’t know who would kill such a kind old man—but Lord, you know exactly who did the deed. Help us to find that man.

  “Give us safe passage back to Dawson, and give us the strength and courage we’ll need to deal with the days to come. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

  “Amen,” Karen murmured with Leah.

  Adrik dusted the snow from his hair and put his cap back on. He stood on the ledge at the back of the cart and took up the harness reins. Pulling the brake, he whistled to the dogs. They sprang to attention, eager for the run. Adrik gave the reins a snap. “Hike!”

  Jacob had never been so happy to see anyone in his life as he was to see Adrik and Karen.

  “Where’s Leah? Is she all right?” he asked.

  Karen and Adrik nodded in unison. “She’s just fine,” Karen said. “They wouldn’t let her come back here, however.”

  “They almost wouldn’t allow Karen back here, but we wore them down,” Adrik said, giving the guard a playful nudge.

  “You can have ten minutes,” the guard said as he pointed them to a small wooden table. He then turned to Jacob. “Don’t even think of trying anything.”

  Jacob barely heard the man. He wanted only to hear Adrik tell him that he’d figured everything out and he would soon be set free. The trio sat down together while the guard watched on.

  “You want to tell us what happened, son?” Adrik began.

  “It was Cec Blackabee, Adrik. He showed up not long after you left. He didn’t even give Gump a chance. Gump opened the door and Cec fired his rifle. He might have only meant to scare him, but Gump must have seen the gun, ’cause best I can figure, he tried to close the door and got the bullet in the chest.”

  “Then what happened, Jacob?” Karen asked softly. She reached out and touched his arm tenderly, motherly. He felt warmed by her presence.

  “Gump fell over, and I charged for the man in the doorway. At first I didn’t know it was Cec, ’cause he stood outside in the shadows. I grabbed hold of the rifle, but not before he had a chance to cock it again. The gun went off as we wrestled. Finally, he pushed me back and cocked it again, and aimed it right for me. It was then that we heard someone coming. The distraction gave me a chance to try again to take the rifle from Cec.

  “When Cec heard the neighbors coming, he ran. When everyone else showed up, there I was holding the gun, and they all presumed the worst.”

  “What about Gump? Was he already dead?”

  Jacob looked at the table remembering the horrible sight of Gump’s bloody shirt, his pale, wrinkled face, his eyes glazed over, but open. “They told me he died pretty much instantly. The bullet went right through his heart.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Karen proclaimed. “If you told them this, why aren’t they listening? Why is he still sitting here in jail?” she asked Adrik.

  “There were no witnesses who saw Cec leave,” Jacob said.

  “No one?”

  Jacob shook his head. “Everyone focused on me. I was the only one they thought about. Cec was able to slip away without any trouble.”

  “I don’t understand, son,” Adrik said very softly. “Why would Cec Blackabee want to kill Gump?”

  Jacob shrugged. It was a mystery to him as well. It was one thing to be a thief and cheat, but another to be a murderer. He’d known Cec to be underhanded at nearly every turn, but he didn’t seem like a murderer.

  “I know he said something about scaring me into helping him. I suppose he figured if I wouldn’t help him for the money, I would do it if he threatened my life.”

  “Look, we’re going to see this thing through until you’re proven innocent and set free.”

  “I’d like to believe that.” Adrik’s words sounded good to Jacob, but promises weren’t going to turn the key on his cell.

  “You must believe, Jacob. God has a plan for you, and I am certain it isn’t to leave you to rot away in a Yukon prison,” Karen told him. Her gaze met his and refused to let him go.

  Jacob appreciated her strength. He thought it might well be his imagination, but he already felt more hopeful. It seemed just seeing them here, sharing his plight and knowing the circumstances, helped him to bear his burden.

  “We’re going to leave now,” Adrik told Jacob. “I’m going to have a talk with the commissioner to see what can be done. Keep praying.”

  “I’m trying, but God doesn’t appear to be listening.”

  Adrik grinned. “That guard over there doesn’t appear to be listening either, but I know he is. And I know God is listening as well. You have to trust that, Jacob. Faith in times of plenty and peace isn’t really faith. It takes a trial like this to build faith that moves mountains. Just trust Him, Jacob.”

  Jacob heard Adrik’s words and took them deep into his heart. A tiny flame sparked to life, spreading hope and courage throughout his weary limbs. “I’ll try,” Jacob said, knowing the alternative was unthinkable.

  Jacob tried to sleep that night, but his mind came back to the words Adrik had given him. The counsel was wise, he knew that full well, but it was also hard to believe. Jacob felt done in. Trust and faith came hard in the shadow of a noose.

  “I’m trying, Lord,” he whispered. “I don’t know if that’s enough or not. I guess if it’s not enough, then I need you to forgive me. And if it is enough, then I need you to help me. Either way,” he said, closing his eyes, “I nee
d you.”

  “I don’t care how many witnesses saw Jacob standing there with the gun after the shooting had already been done. I’m asking, did anyone see Jacob pull the trigger?”

  The Mountie sitting across the desk from Adrik and Karen did not appear interested in their questions. “Sir, that’s really not a matter I can answer.”

  “I believe, based on my knowledge of the boy and the relationship he had with the old man, that it would be impossible for Jacob Barringer to have killed Gump Lindquist,” Adrik declared.

  “That’s all well and fine, but you must remember, we have a situation here that doesn’t always allow for the normal way of things. The gold rush has brought out the savage beast in many men.”

  Adrik stared at the man’s balding head and then looked past him to the window. Outside snow was falling, reminding Adrik that the time was quickly passing and soon they’d be facing winter once again.

  “I know who killed Gump,” Adrik finally stated. He looked back to the Mountie. He sat so completely regal in his stately uniform. The look on his face was fixed, almost stoic. He was a soldier through and through. “A man named Cec Blackabee killed him. Jacob was there and witnessed the entire thing.”

  “Why would this man, whom no one saw, with the exception of Mr. Barringer, want to kill Mr. Lindquist?”

  “For months we’ve been dealing with a thief and sneak,” Adrik replied. “We had a sled stolen and evidence of other attempts to break in. Then one night a commotion arose while Jacob was on guard duty. Cec Blackabee had come to ask Jacob to help him. It seems his partner ran off with his property, including the deed to a claim and a map. He asked about these things and admitted to having stolen our sled. He said the sled was taken from him by his wayward partner.”

  “Not only that,” Karen piped up, “but a strange man appeared at our door some time back when the men were gone. He made me feel most uncomfortable and appeared to be up to no good.”

  “Was this the same man who stole the sled and supposedly killed Mr. Lindquist?”

  “No,” Karen said shaking her head. “I’m sure it wasn’t. Jacob was there that night. He would have recognized Cec Blackabee if he’d been the man. I’m suggesting that Mr. Blackabee may have a partner.”

  “This is all very interesting, but it doesn’t prove Mr. Barringer’s innocence. I have eye witnesses—”

  “Who saw the boy holding the rifle,” Adrik interjected. “But no one saw him commit the murder.”

  “I wish I could help you. I will be happy to check into this matter more thoroughly, but the truth is, you’re going to have to have evidence to confirm the story—evidence that will stand up in a court of law. Otherwise, I’m afraid the judge will deal most harshly with this young man.”

  “Meaning exactly what?” Karen asked.

  “Meaning if he’s found guilty, he’ll most likely be hanged.”

  —[CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT]—

  “ARE THEY GOING TO kill my brother?” Leah asked, her voice quavering.

  Karen looked up from the dining table. “We can’t even think that way,” she said. “Surely, God won’t let him be punished for something he didn’t do.”

  “Innocent people get blamed for things all the time. You said so yourself,” Leah replied.

  Adrik turned to her. “You can’t let this kind of thinking rule your heart. It isn’t fair that Jacob is having to endure this. Nor is it fair that you have to endure this heartache.”

  “It also wasn’t fair that Mr. Gump had to die,” Leah interrupted. “Nothing about this place seems fair. People hurt each other and cheat each other—and all because of the gold.”

  “No,” Adrik said. “It isn’t the gold, it’s the sin of greed. The gold is just a metallic rock that lays there and does nothing. It has no thoughts or feelings, it simply exists.”

  “The wealth assigned it comes from human decisions,” Karen added.

  “Well, it’s still not fair.”

  Adrik nodded. “You’re sure right on that point. It’s not fair.”

  “But then we should be able to do something about it!” Leah declared, pushing away her bread pudding.

  “Sweetheart,” Adrik began, “there is much in life that isn’t fair—never has been, never will be. Innocence is lost, trust is betrayed, and love is misused. It’s been happening that way since the beginning of time.”

  “It’s sure been happening since the beginning of my time,” Leah muttered.

  “Leah, do you believe God is singling you out for trials? Look at Karen,” Adrik replied. “She lost her mother and father. She left a good life in Chicago where she had plenty of everything she needed. She lost her aunt in a fire. And she got saddled with me.” He grinned as he added the latter statement.

  Leah couldn’t help but smile as Karen interjected, “Yes, and he’s been a troublesome burden ever since.” She playfully nudged Adrik. “He’s not at all easy to live with.”

  Leah enjoyed their playful spirit. It reminded her of her mother and father. Still, she also remembered times when her mother’s heartbroken cries nearly broke her heart. “It’s just so hard,” Leah finally replied, sobering again.

  Adrik gently touched her cheek. “I know it is. Jesus never said it wouldn’t be. In fact, He told us life would be difficult. He told us we would have troubles, but that we could be of good cheer because He has already overcome the world and all the problems it could ever bring. That’s in the gospel of John, sixteenth chapter. So you see, it isn’t fair. And life is hard. But it’s nothing new. Every person in the world has to deal with the same sort of thing at one time or another.”

  “They don’t all end up in jail fearing for their lives,” Leah protested.

  “Maybe not the kind of jail your brother is in, but there are all kinds of ways to be imprisoned and all manner of dealings that threaten our very lives.” Adrik squeezed her hand and smiled. “But Jesus is bigger than all of this. He’s already seen it. Already dealt with it. It’s as though when we have to go through it, we can rest in Him ’cause He already knows the direction to take to get us through in one piece.”

  “But Jesus could have kept the bad from happening,” Leah said and tears came to her eyes. “He could have kept Jacob from being blamed for killing Mr. Gump. He could have kept Mr. Gump alive.”

  “Without a doubt,” Adrik said, nodding. “And that really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

  Leah swallowed hard. “Yes. It hurts me to think of God just standing there letting Jacob get hauled away for something he didn’t do. It makes me want to die inside when I think that things might keep going wrong—that God might keep standing back, doing nothing, while they decide to hang my brother.”

  It was Karen’s turn to talk. “Do you trust God, Leah?”

  The girl shrugged. “I thought I did. I sure want to trust Him.”

  “Sometimes the only thing we can do is accept that He knows best—that He has a plan and is just and loving.”

  “And sovereign,” Adrik added.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Sovereign means that God is the absolute, highest authority. He’s the final word on everything. He’s the one in charge of how things will be. No matter what—no matter how it looks or feels. It means trusting that He’s in control even when things seem very much out of control.”

  “That’s really hard,” Leah said. She lowered her head and wiped her tears. “My mama used to say that same thing. She told me when she was dying that God’s ways were sometimes hard for us to understand, but that we have to keep on believing in Him—we have to have faith that He will take care of us.”

  She looked up to Karen and Adrik. “She said that was what being a Christian was all about.”

  “It sounds like your mother was a very wise woman,” Adrik said softly, then added, “I’m figuring you’re a lot like her. Maybe even more than you know.”

  Jacob sat at the same wooden table where he’d visited with Adrik and Karen only two days before. Now, ho
wever, instead of his friends, an American lawyer sat opposite him.

  “Your friends have put me on retainer to see to your needs,” the man said, adjusting his eyeglasses. “My name is Calvin Kinkade. I’m originally from Oregon, but I found it lucrative to journey north.” He paused and, after fussing a bit more with his glasses, looked at the paper he’d brought with him.

  “I’m afraid that there isn’t much here to help me.” He looked directly at Jacob, his eyes peering over the top rims of the silver-framed spectacles. “Unless we can produce a witness or this Mr. Blackabee, I’m not sure we’ll be able to convince anyone of your innocence.”

  “I thought they were supposed to prove my guilt,” Jacob said rather snidely. He wasn’t feeling at all good about the fact that Adrik had brought a lawyer in on the situation. That had to mean that things didn’t look good—that they were in desperate need of legal help.

  “Yes, well, given the fact that so many people saw you standing over the dead man, gun in hand, I believe they feel they have sufficient proof of your guilt.”

  “That’s what I figured. So why is Adrik wasting his hardearned money by hiring you?”

  The man was nonplussed. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Do you not see the need for legal representation?”

  Jacob knew his anger would soon speak for him, so he took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. “I didn’t kill Gump. He was a good friend, and the last thing I wanted to see was his death. I don’t much care anymore what anyone believes. You aren’t going to solve this case by sitting here picking at my brain. You need to be out there,” Jacob pointed to the window. “Cec Blackabee is out there, and it doesn’t much matter to him who ends up dead if it means that he gets what he wants.”

  “Yes, well, I suppose I can speak to your guardian on the details of this and see what is to be done.”

  When Jacob said nothing more, the man got to his feet. “I have arranged for you to have a visitor. Mr. Ivankov felt it was most important.” The lawyer nodded to the guard, who in turn opened the door.