Until June

by Barbara M. Britton

  “I can protect you, Jo.” The tone of his voice almost had her convinced. “And I have a right to know what’s going on in my house.” He pointed at the beast. “But I don’t—”

  “I’ll go to the mine.” Her words came out so fast the beast sprang to attention. She’d do anything to keep Geoff from harming her newfound friend. “Promise me you won’t shoot him.”

  Geoff stepped toward the door. He shifted one leg then the other.

  Was he getting the rifle even after her plea?

  “No more secrets,” he spoke as if he issued an order and then jabbed a finger at the plate. “No more booby traps.”

  She nodded while rubbing the beast’s ears. She didn’t want to go to the mine, but if it kept her dog alive, she’d let Geoff win. Just this once.

  ~*~

  The Maiden arrived on November 20, 1918, to make the trip to Kat Wil Mine. Thank goodness for her birthday bolt of material. She had finished a voile frock with a loose belt and V-neck that would be suitable for the visit. When she opened the door, Tubby lumbered inside with a Royal typewriter in one arm and a pair of black leather boots in the other.

  Tubby handed her the shoes. “I’ve got to be north of Yakutat before the storms. We best get a move on, you two.”

  “Storms?” She peeked out the front door at the horizon.

  “Not ’til tonight.” Tubby set the typewriter on the coffee table. He turned to address Geoff. “Found a walking stick for you in Ketchikan. It’ll help you navigate the mine.”

  “I’ve got Jo for that, but thanks all the same.”

  “We’ll take it,” she said. “Who knows if we’ll need a weapon?”

  The men laughed. She didn’t. Her jest could become a reality.

  She admired the gold buckles on the gifted boots. “How did you know I needed shoes? These heels will keep my hem out of the mud.”

  Tubby puffed on his pipe. “I have a wife at home. She can’t fit those no more. Figured you could.”

  Josephine sat in her chair and changed her shoes.

  “The men won’t be looking at your feet, so stay close.” Geoff’s stern features cautioned her as if he were a teacher and she a tardy student. “We leave by 2:00 PM, Captain’s orders.”

  “Sure you don’t want to bring the chair?” Please change your mind.

  Geoff shook his head. “I’ve got you.”

  Rising, she positioned herself in front of him, took his hand and placed it on her shoulder. “Then balance away.”

  Tubby had nailed planks on the gangway so Geoff could board the ship. His descent required two burly men to keep him from plunging face first into the deck. He sprawled on a bench in the steering room, log-legs straight out in front of him as he pored over surveys of the mine.

  She focused on the mountain peaks frosted white with heaven’s snow and watched for the movement of wildlife among the timbers of the island. The trip was short. No time to fret over the possibility of storms thrashing the Maiden and swallowing up the boat and crew.

  For her, Kat Wil Mine had been a place of mystery. A place across the channel where her stepfather worked and lost his pay. Ivan refused to take the girls anywhere near it. “No place for a lady” he used to say. How would he feel if he knew she was going there with the owner?

  The Maiden slowed near the clear-cut slope of a mountain. Buildings spotted the various levels of the mountainside, lining the shore for what seemed like miles. Water plunged from long horizontal sluices, soaking piles of tailings waiting below. Crushed rock piles stood taller than some of the buildings but not the massive buildings nearest the dock. Those buildings had rows of windows, eyes to see who came on strange ships.

  On deck, she took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of dank, cut pine. Her lungs froze when she noticed the wooden stairs leading from one level of the mine to the next. How could Geoff tour the mine? Office work must be on the schedule.

  “Morning’s passing us by.” Geoff rose with Tubby’s help and placed a hand on her shoulder. The other hand held the walking stick like a baton.

  The crew supervised Geoff’s disembarking until he was clear of the ship. Marty Hill waited at the end of the dock with another man—both dressed in double-breasted coats.

  As she and Geoff approached their greeting party, Marty closed the gap and took her hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again Miss. Nimetz. May I introduce my assistant, Mr. Collins?”

  “How do you do?” She swallowed a smug smile. Geoff had an assistant now, too.

  Geoff leaned forward for handshakes. His grip tightened on her shoulder.

  Marty led them inside the main building—a windowless box that felt more like a cave than a manager’s office. All the furnishings were wooden—desks, side bar, and four chairs. The electric light did its best to enliven the dreariness of the stark wood, but the room still had a coffin-like aura. She stationed herself in a corner, out of the way of the desks, but near enough to assist Geoff if he needed to stand.

  Geoff, Marty and Mr. Collins perused ledgers and maps and discussed neighboring mines.

  “Absolutely no cave-ins.” Geoff’s fist pounded the desk. “Or strikes.”

  “We’ll try our best,” Marty assured him.

  “You’ll do your best.” Geoff’s demanding voice had made her cry at the mansion. Funny how the men jumped and she didn’t. “I know of superintendents that would snatch your jobs like a stray ten-dollar bill.” Geoff sat military straight in his chair.

  Marty nodded. “I believe we know the same people.” He inspected the map as if seeing it for the first time.

  When Geoff’s remarks couldn’t be heard all the way back in Juneau, Marty slid open the door to the side bar and withdrew a bottle of whiskey.

  “It’s almost noon. Not too early to whet our whistles, is it gentlemen?” Marty raised a glass. “Miss. Nimetz?”

  Alcohol? During work? She shivered, and not from the draft. Visions flashed in her mind. Drunken holiday fights. Smashed dinnerware. Hiding upstairs in Ann’s arms.

  Displeasure wrinkled Geoff’s forehead. “Jo…sephine and I will have tonic water.”

  After two shots of whiskey, Marty locked the cabinet. “We’d better get started with the inspections. It’s been awhile since you’ve been here, Mr. Chambers, and you’re leaving early afternoon.”

  “Because of the storms.” She whipped on her coat and dutifully positioned herself near Geoff while Marty donned a jacket. Geoff’s hand rested on her shoulder pads.

  They shuffled toward the door as practiced. Walking stick, step, hold steady. At the threshold, the stick caught. Geoff stumbled. She stiffened. Her heart rate spiked and made her glands sweat like it was August.

  Geoff’s hand dropped to her hip for balance, and stayed. Stayed for a healthy minute.

  Thank goodness for a thick coat lining.

  Marty studied Geoff’s hand placement. Studied her reaction. And studied everything in between. Her muscles tensed with the swipe of his gaze.

  “Marty, you’re going to have to level this threshold.” Geoff’s hand returned to its normal spot on her shoulder. He urged her forward. “We best keep moving.”

  “We have to leave by two.” She reminded everyone within ear shot.

  At each site they visited, men appeared. They gawked at her and Geoff. She gawked back. Did any look familiar? She didn’t recall a one. A layer of dirt camouflaged the miners’ faces.

  All the buildings seemed the same, plain, planked, and brown. Nothing caught her attention except the torture of her new hand-me-down boots. With every step, the stiff leather scraped skin from her toes. No wonder Tubby’s wife had given the heels away.

  They headed toward the bunk houses. Thank goodness their last stop was near the dock. A screen door shared the dormitory’s stench of musty body odor with the outside world. Marty meandered down the central hallway. She followed and gripped each finger-printed door frame to mask her hobble.

  In one of the rooms, a lone man laid in a top bunk. When
Marty greeted the miner, he sprung up, and dangled his legs over the side of the bed. Geoff patted the mattress.

  “How do you like your new bed?” Geoff tapped the frame with his new balancing stick.

  The miner didn’t acknowledge Geoff. His eyes were on her, inching up and down her torso as if he was calculating her dress size. Her stepfather was right. She shouldn’t have come.

  “Nice,” the man said turning his attention to Geoff. “My bed. This one right here is wonderful.”

  The wink aimed her direction rattled her composure. She turned abruptly, dipped out of Geoff’s hold, and stepped into the hallway. How dare that miner gaze at her like a holiday roast? A murmuring of male voices cut short her indignation. A group of dusty-faced, dusty-haired men approached. They must have been in the tunnels, for they looked as if they had been sprinkled with pollen.

  The crowd swarmed her space. Lint from their clothing filled the air along with the stench of sour sweat. Josephine coughed. She had to get out. Get outside.

  Returning to the bunk room, she clutched Geoff’s arm. “Geo…Mr. Chambers, we need…we need to be on our way.”

  He kept talking.

  Was she dreaming? No. This would be a nightmare. Sweat drenched her bangs. “I’m feeling faint.” She heard her own declaration, but didn’t know who she said it to since it seemed as if she was floating above the floor with bumblebees swarming on her skin.

  Immediately, Geoff broke off his conversation. He wrapped an arm around her waist. Marty supported her from the other side.

  “Clear the way,” Marty yelled.

  Men snapped to attention along the wall.

  “Don’t go down on me, Jo.”

  The thunk of Geoff’s walking stick echoed in her head.

  Outside the bunk house, she collapsed on a clear-cut stump. Wintery puffs of smoke emerged from her mouth. Fingers kneaded her shoulder. She glanced upward. Geoff stood guard above her.

  “See,” she said, “you should have left me at the lodge.” She stilled his hand. “I won’t topple you now that I’m outdoors in the fresh air.”

  “Are you sure?” His head dipped down to examine her eyes.

  “I’m well—”

  Thwack.

  The door to the bunk house flew open. Men filed out.

  “Mr. Chambers?” a bushy-lipped man shouted.

  Where was Marty?

  Geoff acknowledged every man with a nod before he answered. “This isn’t a good time. My assistant is ill.”

  “We heard talk of more pay at Trident,” the mustached man continued to speak. “You here to raise our pay?” Agreement echoed his request.

  “Half of Trident collapsed. They have to pay high wages to keep workers.” Geoff paused and scanned the crowd again. “But if Trident raises their wages, I’m sure Mr. Hill will inform me, and we’ll follow suit. Otherwise, September is when wages will be adjusted.”

  “It’s a shame the Chambers family can’t hire all our children to keep ’em fed.” The insult came from the leering mattress man.

  “Your boy ain’t near as pretty as her,” a heckler called out.

  “How old are you, gal?” another miner asked.

  “Old enough,” someone shouted.

  Strangers laughed. Laughed at her. Laughed at the signer of their paychecks.

  Anger spiked through her veins. Her hands fisted, quaking with outrage. She didn’t need charity. The Chambers family needed her services not the other way around.

  She stood on the stump. Her raw toes burned as boot leather grazed her skin.

  “Shut your mouths, all of you.” The shriek in her voice sent an eagle darting from a nearby pine.

  Stunned faces went slack-jawed.

  “Shame on you for spreading lies. How can you jeer at an outstanding veteran like Mr. Chambers? After my stepfather’s death, he paid my mother wages Ivan hadn’t even earned yet. If Ivan had brought home his paycheck instead of gambling with you, my family would be better off.” Her chest heaved. Stored up emotion rattled her rib cage. “I am a nurse. A good nurse. And an assistant to Mr. Chambers.”

  Bewildered eyes gawked at her.

  A few men apologized.

  “Don a nurse’s cap for me. Will ya?” a voice in the crowd bellowed.

  “Odds are against you,” someone cackled.

  Her cheeks flamed. “It’s because of the likes of you Ivan was murdered.”

  The rumblings quieted.

  “One of you shot him,” she shouted.

  Her hand flew to her mouth. She had spilled the truth.

  Salt water flooded her tear ducts. No way was she going to break down and sob in front of these buffoons. The little girl inside of her was already hiding in a bed, in a closet, in an alley behind a saloon.

  She hopped off the stump and fled.

  Sprinting down the shore toward Marty’s office, she turned a corner and leaned against the side of a building. Small talk with Mr. Collins would be a chore. She eased the weight off her throbbing feet, collapsed against the wood wall, and wished she could forget her outburst.

  Starlight specks blurred her vision. She bent over to clear her head.

  “Miss. Nimetz?”

  Her hand shot to her heart.

  “Didn’t mean to give you a start, Miss.” A man stood a few feet away. His gaze never met hers. Instead, it traveled back and forth, from the office building to the building next door.

  “Have we met?” She didn’t remember him from the bunk house.

  “I knew Ivan…your Pa.” He stepped closer, his red-rimmed eyes intent on her face.

  “Oh,” was all she could say. A shiver stole the warmth from her body. She struggled to wet her mouth, but her tongue was rough and dry like days old rags.

  “I wanted to say how sorry I was ’bout the whole thing.” He came closer. Too close. His size dwarfed her. “It was a tragedy. Nothing I could do. Ivan placed one bet too many.”

  There was a drumming in her brain. Danger, danger, danger. But how could she run with a giant stationed before her and with her bum feet?

  “Thank you for your condolences.” Her words came out faint and breathy. Her gaze darted toward the office. “Someone’s coming,” she lied.

  The man scratched his chin. “Do you remem—”

  “Where have you been?” Geoff’s words filled the alley.

  She bumped her head against the wall.

  Praise be! She should reprimand her boss for his surly disposition, but in this moment, his ranting was a symphony.

  Geoff stabbed the ground with his walking stick as if he meant to slay the earth.

  The nearer he strutted, the happier she became.

  “What did you think you were doing running off like that? Marty Hill will never lead me around by the arm again. Do you hear me?” He seized her shoulder. “You abandoned me.”

  Geoff glanced at the awe-struck miner. “Who are you?”

  “Young,” he stammered. “Edgar Young.”

  “Well, Mr. Young, get to work.”

  The stunned miner backed away. His head bobbed in her direction.

  “Thank you for your kind words,” she said, but the man didn’t answer.

  “How could you run off like that?” Geoff’s hand still grasped her shoulder, but he balanced on his new cane.

  “I’m sorry. I got flustered. It won’t happen again.” She clasped her hands to keep them from shaking.

  “Darn right, it won’t. You’re going to sit in that office until it’s time to leave. Hear me?”

  All of Kat Wil could hear him.

  She nodded. “I’m ready to leave when you are.” Ready as ever.

  18

  Later that afternoon, Tubby carried her into the lodge. “It’s my fault for giving you those fancy buckle-ups. You’d be in better shape if you crawled around the mine. Next time wear your chicken coop boots.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  A smile lit up Tubby’s whiskered face as he placed her on the couch. “I can’t st
ay. Clouds are rolling this way.”

  “I’ll take it from here.” Geoff accompanied Tubby to the porch. When he returned, he leaned against the edge of the couch. “Assessed the damage yet?”

  “Not yet. I’m afraid to look.” She slid the leather over the tops of her feet and fought back tears. Dried blood and clumps of dead skin adorned her toes. The blisters on her heels stung for attention.

  Geoff teetered toward the kitchen.

  “Where are you going?”

  He steadied himself with a chair. “You need to soak those feet.”

  “I’ll get the water.” She tried to stand.

  “You most certainly will not. Get back on that couch. That’s an order.”

  “You can’t give me orders.”

  “Yes, I can. Even if you don’t follow them.”

  Distant thunder caught her attention.

  “Did you hear that?” she asked over the rush of the faucet.

  “I told you this morning there’d be storms tonight.” Geoff used the dining table to brace himself. He cradled a Dutch oven in the crook of his arm. After a few awkward steps, he handed her the container.

  “I cook in that,” she said.

  “Extra flavor. Now soak.”

  She set the oven on the floor. Her feet hovered over the warm water before slowly sinking into the pot. Her skin sizzled until the pain became a comfortable ache.

  Thunder sounded a few miles away. Looking for cover, she grabbed a decorative pillow and buried her face in the material. The cloth smelled like Geoff’s bath soap—lye with lemons.

  Geoff sat beside her, towel in hand.

  She gave him a side-glance. “Is the dog out back?”

  “That thing is on the porch—for now.”

  “Good.” She relaxed into the dark brown cushions.

  When her feet resembled large prunes, Geoff dried them. He gently patted her toes. If he pressed too hard, she did a backward push up.

  A lightning flash lit up the bay window.

  She covered her eyes with the pillow again. It didn’t matter to her if Geoff thought she was silly, she didn’t want to see the storm.