Duncan flexed his big hand in the thick leather glove he always wore and pulled a glowing piece of metal from the pit. “The fact that you do.”
Mack chose a diversionary tactic. “I need something other than those brackets. A bit of an unusual order, and one you need to keep it to yourself. Can I trust you?”
That got Duncan’s attention. Mid-swing, he stopped working and returned the strip of iron back to its place within the embers. “What kind of a question is that?”
Of course, Mack knew he could trust Duncan implicitly, but this was too much of an opportunity to squander. “I’ll need discretion here. No one can know you’re working on this. I’m not even sure you can do it, actually.”
Duncan took that personally, his red eyebrows knitting together. “And what is it you need now?”
Pulling a drawing from his coat pocket, Mack laid the illustration of a tin sheriff’s star on the counter between them. “I need it by four o’clock today.”
Duncan pulled off his gloves and picked up the paper, his eyes darting from Mack to the star. “You’re mad. I can’t do this on such short notice.” After a moment, he raised one eyebrow and whispered, “Who?”
Mack knew he had him. “Can you do it?”
“You haven’t got the time to take this to anyone else. I’d skin you if you did, besides. So, who is gonna be the new sheriff?”
“Can’t say at the moment.” It had been Lana’s idea to have the star ready when they had Ed over to dinner. He had to say, it was a brilliant piece of persuasion. And he wouldn’t be surprised if Duncan dropped everything and had the star ready within the hour, just to weasel out of Mack the identity of the chest to which it would be pinned. “So,” Mack said conversationally, “have you got a kilt to wear to the Midsummer Festival, or will you dress civilized like the rest of us?”
Duncan grunted, both at the blatant diversion and the implied “insult.” In a fit of familial pride one night, the Scotsman had vowed—or was it threatened?—to break out the MacDougal plaid for Christmas Eve services, when the town reached its first Christmas later this year. Considering what the average temperature would be in Treasure Creek in December, Mack thought it more a declaration of bravery than anything else. Given that the festival would prove less of a test of the man’s endurance, Mack suspected the revered MacDougal plaid might indeed make an early appearance.
“So there really is to be a party?”
“Lana’s up to her elbows in plans already. So, MacDougal, will it be a kilt or Sunday best?”
He knew Duncan would never dream of satisfying him with an answer. But Mack already had what he needed—the conversation shifted off his association with the gold nuggets—so it mattered little. “Can’t say at the moment.” Duncan threw Mack’s own words back at him as he narrowed one eye, aimed, and took a mighty whack at the strip of iron. “But you’ll be the last to know.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
Another whack. “Letter came for you yesterday.” He said it like an afterthought, but Mack knew he’d withheld it until the last moment. “Something official-like from Skaguay.”
Leo. The brief letter stated that Leo had been released two days ago after what the sheriff called a “troublesome” stint in jail. He hadn’t come home. All Mack could surmise was that the incarceration hadn’t served as the deterrent he’d hoped. It didn’t mean all was lost. He’d send letters this afternoon to connections in Skaguay, and do what he could to find Leo before he made new friends he didn’t need.
Ed’s dinner had turned out perfectly. While Mack had scoffed at the culinary campaign earlier, his smile had broadened as the night went on. Ed was clearly softening to the idea, even though it hadn’t been directly spoken of at all. They’d talked in terms of the town’s future, of the importance of its character, about how Treasure Creek would be a community where the law mattered.
Lana knew that much of Mack’s high-minded speech was for Ed’s benefit, but it wasn’t for show. Conviction burned in his eyes as he talked of his vision for the town. He deeply believed in the need for a place like Treasure Creek. Not just because honesty and integrity were rare and lofty ideals in this part of the world, but because he’d lived the consequences of lies and deception. Hadn’t they both? Yes, Jed’s greed had given his faults free rein up here, but he’d been happily egged on by far too many men glad to indulge his weaknesses. Alaska was a place where wisdom was overpowered by cunning, and far too many people paid for it with their lives. Listening to Mack talk, she could feel the spark of his vision catch in her own spirit. To feel the strength of his character undergird her own. She respected him. Watching his eyes tonight, listening to him pour out his heart, her respect was changing into a deeper, surprising care. She was coming to care for Mack Tanner—for the man he was, the father he could be and the world he wanted to make for their family.
After pie—pie which had come out perfectly, sweet and delectable from the last crate of blueberries from this week’s shipment of produce—Mack caught her eyes with a hint of a smile as he stood and turned toward the sideboard. “Edward Parker,” Lana said, just as they’d planned it earlier, “I am so grateful for what you did yesterday to save poor Goldie. You are a man of honor and strength, and I know anyone who cares about that poor baby girl knows you saved her life. And Viola’s, too, perhaps.”
“I don’t think it was all that,” Ed said, flushing from her wordy compliment.
“It was. Too many folks know her story as it is. I’m glad you were there to defend her.” Mack took the pouch that had been sitting on the sideboard and placed it solemnly in front of Ed. “Goldie just proves a point. I need your help. Treasure Creek could sure use your help. I want…I hope,” he corrected himself with a flicker of a look toward Lana, who’d suggested such wording, “you’ll consider how much you could do for Treasure Creek by becoming sheriff.”
Mack nodded at Ed, who opened the pouch and pulled out a shiny silver star with the words “Treasure Creek Sheriff” etched into it. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she’d have never believed Duncan MacDougal capable of such finely detailed work. It was as if the world lined up to make this request simply perfect.
“I think God sent you here for just this reason,” Lana added, surprised that the thought of God’s world lining up in perfection slipped so naturally into her head, “and I hope you’ll give Mack’s request serious consideration. I do believe you’re the man for the job. And I know Mack does, too. I want Georgie to grow up in a safe place.”
Georgie, who was beginning to nod off from his own big meal, roused at the sound of his name and babbled a few incoherent but enthusiastic comments, ending with “star!” as he pointed to the badge Ed held. Mack had taught him the word earlier today as the whole family inspected Duncan’s handiwork.
Ed smiled—he’d always had a soft heart where Georgie was concerned. Lana suspected the big man’s resistance was all but dissolved. A great, big heart beat inside that enormous, powerful man. He would be the embodiment of justice and mercy…if he took the job.
“Please,” Lana said, truly meaning it.
“I need your help.” The gruffness in Mack’s voice told Lana what it cost her husband to make that admission. She was, at that moment, immensely proud of him.
“I don’t see how…” Ed said with a huge sigh, and Lana heard Mack suck in a breath to try one more round of convincing, “…I can say no.” Ed finished with something very near a twinkle in his eye. “Three Tanners against one Parker is hardly fair odds. Best I give in now and save us all a heap of fuss.” With a fumbling of his thick fingers, he fixed the silver star to the leather vest he wore. Mack shook his hand, Lana rewarded the new sheriff with a second slice of pie, and Georgie barked “star!” over and over while pointing to Ed’s swelled chest.
Mack couldn’t stop himself from smiling the rest of the night. He allowed himself, just for the briefest of moments, to bask in the reassurance of having a partner again. Someone to watch h
is back. He’d not allowed himself that luxury since Jed’s death, and his spirit ached more at the absence than he was ready to admit. Ed probably had no idea how deeply his remark about “three Tanners” had hit—it had been too long since anyone could use the name Tanner in plural. His father and brothers were gone, but now he had a family. He hadn’t told Lana yet, but he’d made inquiries into adopting Georgie as his legal heir.
He’d have Georgie as a son. He had Lana as a wife. A startling, amazing wife. She had always been beautiful—she was no stranger to using that beauty for her own advantage—but tonight she had proved herself clever and strong. Despite the many challenges of Alaskan pioneer living, he had managed never to see this side of her before. How had he missed her incredible resourcefulness? Or was it that life had just beaten it out of her for a short time? Either way, Mack couldn’t ignore his fascination with the woman who seemed to be unfolding new parts of her character before his very eyes. As he played blocks with Georgie and listened to her cleaning up the kitchen after Ed left, he realized that the new sheriff was not his only partner in Treasure Creek. Here he was, thinking God had asked him to take on an obligation in Lana and Georgie, when God had sent him the truest of partners instead. Thank You, Father, he prayed as he scooped up a yawning Georgie. He eyed the baby carriage by the door, and an idea came to him.
Plucking a blanket, his coat and Lana’s shawl from their pegs by the door, he walked over to the dry sink where Lana was wiping her hands. “It’s time for my walk,” he said, nodding in the direction of the lavender dusk coming through the windows. “Come with me tonight.”
Lana turned, her eyebrows arched in surprise. “On your walk?” Her eyes glowed in a way he felt in the pit of his stomach. “On your private evening walk?”
He felt himself grinning like an idiot, as if she’d just consented to let him carry her schoolbooks. Foolish as it was, he couldn’t hope to wipe the grin from his face. She looked so immensely pleased, it just seemed to rub off on him. “Maybe privacy’s overrated.” He handed her the shawl as Georgie’s head began to fall against his shoulder.
Lana took the shawl, growing suddenly quiet. “You pray on your walks,” she said softly. “I don’t think I…”
“Just walk with me. We’ll figure the rest out as we go along.” It had started as an impulse, but now some part of him craved her company as he walked through the town, commending its fate to the sovereign Lord who’d brought him not one but two partners today. He wanted to feel the pressure of her hand tucked into his elbow, to see the pastel sunset splash colors into her hair, to have her beside him as he prayed. He was too full of thanksgiving and satisfaction to let the sudden surge of feeling frighten him. Tonight he would allow himself to drop his endless grip of leadership’s reins for a moment or two, just to see how it felt.
He helped Lana with her shawl, letting his hand linger for just a moment as he wrapped it around her tiny shoulders. He marveled at the elegant way she carried herself. A wave of affection overtook him as he slid a drowsy Georgie into the carriage and watched Lana tuck the blanket tenderly around her son. He held the door open while Lana pushed the carriage out into the gloriously light summer evening, and sighed. His evening walks were important to him, an anchor in his day, a time of worship and prayer. Was he ready to share that with his new family?
I don’t know that I’m ready, he admitted to God as he pulled the cabin door shut behind them. But who’d ever thought I’d be so willing? He put his hand on the bar of the carriage handle and helped Lana push. “I always start down here,” he said, pointing to the south side of the tiny town God had given him.
“Then we’ll start down there.” Lana’s voice was quiet and almost reverent. He found himself wondering why it had taken him so long to invite her to walk with him. While he would have found the idea shocking yesterday, tonight it seemed the most natural thing in the world. “I won’t talk—” she looked at him, her eyes melting the last of his reservations “—I won’t interrupt your prayers. I’ll just be beside you.”
They walked in a delightful, easy silence, but she did interrupt his prayers. No matter what he prayed, no matter which house or store or family he brought before the Lord, each phrase kept ending in “Thank You, Lord, for her.”
Chapter Eighteen
“So you’ll help me?” Lucy Tucker pleaded, gripping her teacup with dirty, calloused fingers.
Lana simply could not believe her ears. Or her eyes. “Of course I’ll help you,” she heard herself say, although it sounded like the words were coming from somewhere other than her own body. It couldn’t be real.
Lucy Tucker couldn’t be sitting at her table asking her to “get done up nice” for the Midsummer Festival. This was a Tucker, after all, and Tuckers just didn’t do “up nice.” At least not until today. Which could only mean…
“Lucy.” Lana had to choose her words carefully here, as this could be the most delicate of topics. “Am I right in suspecting there’s more to this?”
Lucy straightened in her seat, but an all too feminine flush filled her tawny cheeks. “No.” She might as well have nodded her head, the lie was so obvious.
Lana smoothed out the napkin next to her teacup. “It’s the most natural thing in the world to want to catch someone’s eye at a big party. Even for someone of your…independent spirit.”
Lucy’s expression softened. “Frankie’d shoot me.”
Lana swallowed a laugh. “I highly doubt that. And even if she really did feel that way—” she leaned in conspiratorially “—she isn’t here. It’s just us.” Lucy’s eyes shifted left and right, her craving to share the secret warring with the shock of feminine sentiments beating inside a Tucker breast. Lana could only imagine the courage it took to come here and not only admit someone’s caught her fancy, but ask for help in catching his. No wonder she’d been so easy to convince about the party the other day. “Who is the lucky fellow?” Lana whispered.
Lucy squared her shoulders and blew out a breath, bracing to shock even herself, it seemed. “Caleb.”
Lana nearly knocked over her teacup. “Caleb Johnson?” The big but bookish dockmaster seemed rather mild-mannered for the likes of Lucy Tucker.
“Shh!”
“I’m sorry, Lucy, I’m just shocked, that’s all.”
“He’s so smart. And so brave to raise poor, troubled Leo on his own. And so kind.” Having sung Caleb’s praises, Lucy gulped suddenly as though she’d said something wrong, as if to snatch the words back out of the air.
“No, no, I’m glad you told me. I’m just…surprised. I hadn’t at all pegged you for someone so…sensitive.” Still, perhaps God had matched those two well. They’d spent many hours together helping the bedraggled young men down off the trail. Now that she thought of it, they always sat near each other at town meetings. Maybe this was the real reason why Lucy spent so much time near the waterfront. Should things truly work out between them, Lana suspected only a Tucker could live up to step mothering Leo Johnson, and Leo adored Lucy.
Poor, misguided Leo. Mack had finally located him in Skaguay, but Lana couldn’t help but think it had been too late. Leo fought furiously with Caleb and Mack as they dragged him back to Treasure Creek, and things had been strained between the families ever since. More than once Lana had looked outside the church windows during school to find Leo staring darkly at the church from across the street.
Caleb deserved some happiness. And he certainly needed someone to share life’s challenges with, didn’t he? She made the choice right then and there to throw the full weight of her feminine wiles toward the cause of Caleb and Lucy. She’d been a skilled matchmaker back in Seattle. Why not resurrect the role out here, where families might need a little extra help to start up?
“Lana?” Genuine fear pinched Lucy’s features. Lana could not remember Lucy ever looking the least bit afraid of anything.
She clasped Lucy’s rough hand in hers, black under the fingernails and all. “I’m honored you came to me. I th
ink Caleb is a fine, fine choice for you. You have my word, I’ll do all I can to fix you two up.”
Lucy’s face went from fear to relief, splitting in a wide grin. “I sure was hoping you’d say that. Part of me was sure you’d laugh out loud.”
“Never.” Lana poured more tea and began to make a mental list of all the supplies she’d need from Skaguay. Gussying up Lucy Tucker was a monumental challenge, but if she had her way, Caleb Johnson wouldn’t stand a chance. “Your secret is safe with me, but there is one other person who will have to know about this in order for it to work.”
“You can’t tell Mack. You can’t!”
Mack would howl with laughter once he knew, but Mack would not be told. No, this delicate cause must be the most private of endeavors. “Not Mack. You have my word. But we’ll need Viola’s help on this.”
“Viola Goddard? I’ve barely met her. Come to think of it, most folks know next to nothing about her—except for that mysterious abandoned rich baby tale of hers.”
“You know about that?”
Lucy’s bawdy demeanor returned instantly. “Hon,” the Oklahoma twang surging back up into her voice, “everyone knows about that now. Some young buck down on the docks offered Frankie fifty dollars to go coo at the baby and steal one of her moccasins so he could show up with a matching set and claim her.”
A poor plan to say the least, but it proved word was out, and Mr. Brown would not be the last impostor to hound Viola’s doorstep. “What did she do?”
Lucy smirked and gulped down the last of her tea. “What Frankie always does. She whipped him and took him off to Ed Parker before he could wake up.”
Lana imagined Frankie Tucker huffing down the street dragging an unconscious man behind her, dumping him on Ed Parker’s doorstep with a satisfied grin. Then she tried to imagine that satisfied grin under a bonnet, above an actual dress, and could only giggle. “You do have the most amazing family,” she managed to say.
ALASKAN BRIDES 01: Yukon Wedding Page 14
