Alaskan Brides: Gold Rush Baby Part 12

"Hattie! Viola! It's me, Frankie."

The m.u.f.fled words made her knees go weak. She smoothed back the curls that had escaped the ribbon that imprisoned her long hair at the nape of her neck and stepped out into the living room. She didn't want to wake Goldie.

"Hey, Viola." Frankie dropped a blanket-wrapped bundle on the floor and crossed the room to gaze at her. A smile curled the corners of her mouth. "Looks like Teena's been here."

She nodded.

Frankie chuckled. "Sort of hard to talk with that stuff stuck on your lips, huh?"

The hard knots in her stomach loosened. Trust Frankie to make her feel better. "Yes."

"Well, if Teena got up that concoction, it for sure ought to work."

She nodded. "The cuts hurt less already."

"Swellin's gone down, too." Hattie turned, headed back for the kitchen, looked over her plump shoulder. "Supper's late tonight, what with one thing and another. We're havin' soup. You're welcome to stay, Frankie."

"That all right with you, Viola?"

It was very all right. She felt safer with Frankie around. "Please do."

Frankie nodded, cleared her throat. "I come for a purpose, Viola. I thought maybe I could sleep here on your settle for a couple of nights. I'd feel better, seeing as how your pistol hasn't come in yet. That be all right with you?"

She stared at her, shocked beyond comprehension. "You want to stay here? With me?"

Frankie's chin jutted out. "That's what friends do, help out when there's a problem. Ain't it?"

Friends. Her throat tightened. Tears welled. She swallowed hard, nodded.

"Good. I brought my gear in case you said yes." Frankie walked over, picked up the bundle she had dropped and carried it to the settle.

Viola used the time to get her frayed emotions back under control.

"I got news."

Her heart lurched, then settled back to its normal rhythm. Frankie sounded happy. "What is it?" She braced herself just in case.

"First off, Teena and Doc Calloway went to Skaguay and got married this afternoon."

"Truly!" She winced, pressed her fingertips to her lips. "I knew they were planning to marry, but-"

"About time if you ask me." Hattie appeared in the kitchen doorway, shot her a look. "Any fool could see those two loved each other. Where they gonna live?"

"In Doc's room at the clinic. Teena moved her stuff in before they took the ferry. Guess they want to be there in case there's an emergency or something."

Her thoughts winged off to Thomas alone in his hut. A jolt of envy shamed her.

"You said, 'first off'-" Hattie glanced into the kitchen, looked back. "I've a pot about to boil over. What's the other news?"

Frankie's face turned into one huge grin. "I'm a deputy!"

She stared, reached up and held her lips again when she started to smile. "I'm so happy for you, Frankie!"

"About time for that, too, I'd say." Hattie went back to the kitchen.

"What happened? How did this come about?"

Frankie's grin died. "Ed said I handled myself real good last night, sneaking in the back and knocking Dengler cold with that tree branch."

She looked at the kitchen doorway and shuddered. "I haven't had a chance to thank you, Frankie-"

"No thanks needed, Viola." A blush crept into Frankie's cheeks. Her freckles looked larger and darker. She looked down at the settle, fussed with her bundle.

She had never seen Frankie look so uncomfortable. She motioned her friend to follow her, stepped into her bedroom and turned to face her. "What is it, Frankie? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Everything's special right." Frankie looked back toward the kitchen, then faced her, happiness glowing in her blue eyes. "I been doing like you told me, Viola. You know, dressing more girly and asking Ed for help and all. And he's been coming around some. Then, last night, after we got those owl-hoots jailed, Ed said he was peac.o.c.k proud of me, and, well...I been wanting that so long I got these silly tears in my eyes." She gave an awkward little wave, looked down. "Ed put his arms around me-to comfort me like-and then, well, one thing sorta led to another." A deep blush swept across Frankie's freckled cheeks. "Next thing I knew, Ed asked me to be his bride. I said, yes. Me! Frankie Tucker. I'm getting married, Viola."

"Frankie!" Tears swam into her eyes. "Oh, Frankie, I'm so happy for you!" And she was. Truly. The ache in her heart didn't detract from that.

Her friend looked up, a plea in her blue eyes. "Will you make me a special dress for my wedding, Viola? One that'll make me look all...all girly and pretty?"

The knots in her stomach uncurled. She stared at Frankie, thankful, so very thankful, for an opportunity to think about something normal and safe and fun. "Oh, Frankie. Of course I will."

Chapter Sixteen.

"Well I never!"

Viola's heart sank. She put down her mending and rose, stared at Lana Tanner's angry face, then shot a look at Hattie.

The older woman shrugged, then closed and locked the door.

Viola squared her shoulders, looked back at the mayor's wife. "h.e.l.lo, Lana. What happened to so upset you?" Judging from the parade of stampeders Hattie had been shooing from her door all morning, she feared she already knew the answer.

"I was just...accosted by a miner outside your door. He thought..." Lana pressed her lips together, tossed her head. "Well, never mind what he thought. The man is obviously lacking in mental capacity!"

"Oh, Lana! I'm so sorry-"

"It's not your fault, Viola." The pet.i.te blonde broke into giggles. "Besides, some good may come of it. After the tongue-lashing I gave him, I'm quite certain the man will change his immoral ways." Lana hitched her son higher on her hip and came to stand beside her. "Those beasts! Look at what they've done to you."

"Ouch."

She looked down at Lana's two-year-old who was pointing at her face and nodded. "Yes, I have 'ouches.' But they're getting better." She lifted her hand and pointed to her mouth, gave the best smile she could manage. "See, the herbs take the hurt away."

Georgie looked up, put his little hands on his mother' s cheeks. "'Erbs?"

"Gracious, Viola! Don't get him started asking questions." Lana looked down at her son and laughed. "There aren't enough hours in the day once he starts that."

"Why don't I take Georgie out to the kitchen?" Hattie smiled at the toddler. "I have some cookies out there you can chew on whilst I finish feedin' Goldie her lunch. How about that?"

The toddler nodded and held out his arms. Hattie scooped him off Lana's hip and headed for the kitchen. "I can tell you all about herbs and such. There's these great big herbs, you see. Grow bi-i-ig as a house. And little boys can play under a leaf."

"Are you all right, Viola?" Lana made a face of disgust. "That's a foolish thing to ask. But you know what I mean." Her blue eyes warmed. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Your coming is enough, Lana." Truly. She cleared the lump from her throat. "Teena's herbs are helping with the soreness, and the rest will just...take time."

A sharp rap echoed through the room.

She blanched, jerked toward the door.

"Let me." Lana whirled and marched to the door.

"Lana, no!"

Lana waved her hand in dismissal of the admonition, threw back the lock and opened the door. "Yes?"

The man whipped off his hat. Balding, with graying hair. Not Karl. Viola took a deep breath, gripped the back of the settle for support.

"Er...are you Viola G.o.ddard?"

"I am not."

The man frowned, glanced inside. She flinched back.

"Is this her...house?"

The man's voice was low-pitched, with that underlying tone she knew so well. Her stomach curdled. She took a breath and started forward. She had to help Lana.

"It is her home. May I help you?"

She stopped, stared at the man's frown. He was obviously perplexed by Lana's cold tone.

"Depends." He smiled, stepped closer to Lana. "I've come to give her my...business. Less you're-"

"Where's your mending?"

"Mending? Wha-"

Lana's hand shot out, her index finger pointing toward the sign in the window on her right.

"Seamstress?" The man scowled. "Look here, lady! I don't care what that sign says. I heard different, an' I'm here for-" He glanced at Lana, set his jaw. "I'm here to spend some personal time with Viola."

"Oh, my gracious! Silly me. You've come courting." Lana fluttered her hand through the air. "I shall tell Viola you called. And I'm sure she would be accepting of your company in church. Service-"

"Church?" The man's mouth gaped.

A low mumbling of men's voices rose.

"Why, yes. Viola attends every service faithfully. Would you care to leave your name-"

"Never mind. Looks like I've made a mistake." The man slapped his hat on.

"You have indeed. As have those men behind you. Tell them all, if they want to see Viola, church services start at eight o'clock Sunday morning!" Lana closed the door, flipped the lock into place then looked at her and burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, Viola? Oh, my! And you should have seen the others scatter when I mentioned church. They looked for all the world like ants when you step on their hill."

The tension across her shoulders released, her stomach stopped churning. "I don't know how to thank you, Lana. I-"

"Poof! There's no need for thanks. The truth is, I rather enjoyed that. Though I don't think it's going to increase our congregation." Lana smiled and linked her arm with hers. "Shall we join Hattie in the kitchen for a cup of tea? I think we need to talk about how best to handle this situation. And I have an idea."

Thomas stepped out onto the porch, wishing he hadn't eaten. There was nothing wrong with the food. Mavis Goodge set a good table for her boardinghouse patrons. It was the conversation at the table that had turned his stomach sour. Or more accurately, the lack of it. There had been no unsavory comments about Viola's past, his presence had taken care of that. But the unnatural silence and the surrept.i.tious, leering looks cast his way had left no doubt as to what the other diners were thinking.

He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets and looked out toward the harbor. The last ferry of the day from Skaguay was disgorging another slew of hopeful gold seekers and their supplies. Where they would find a place to put down their tents and packs and other possessions was more than he could figure. The waterfront was already so packed with people and wares it was all but impossible to wend your way through them to reach the long, wood piers that stretched out to the deeper water.

And the noise...

He shook his head, looked at the men and women streaming off the pier in front of the boardinghouse. What did they think when they first saw the swarms of stampeders camped out on the muddy quagmire while they prepared for their trek up the Chilkoot Trail? He had learned early on it did no good to warn the newcomers of the horrendous, dangerous climb. Or of the incredible backbreaking work of carrying, then caching, their supplies daily on the first leg of their journey to the gold fields. They wanted to hear nothing but tales of gold waiting to be picked up for the taking.

He stepped forward, leaned his good shoulder against the porch post. The hundreds that had come at the beginning of the gold rush had turned into thousands, all of them with their heads full of dreams and their hearts full of the l.u.s.t for gold. The sad part was, most would find nothing but disappointment and heartbreak. He ministered to the disillusioned and broken every day. It left him little time for the Tlingits, who were his original purpose for coming north.

He frowned, scanned the nameless faces. How many dead had he prayed over? How many injured had he helped rescue and bring to Treasure Creek for treatment and care? How many angry, bitter men, defeated by the weather and the hardships of climbing the Chilkoot before they ever neared the gold fields, had he tried to convince of G.o.d's love for them?

How many of these would he find injured, or lifeless and beyond his succor, along the trail? He was only one man and the distance was great, the climb slow and dangerous. How could he hope to reach the thousands of miners before they lost everything in their search for riches?

"Lord G.o.d Almighty, may You have mercy on them all."

He moved down the steps, halted as he spotted Ed Parker standing by a stack of crates and watching the people coming off the pier. Something in his posture said it was not casual observation. He left the porch and wound his way through the stampeders to the sheriff.

"Expecting someone, Ed?"

The big man shot him a look, shook his head. "Nope. But I'm gonna be here to welcome him, should he come. Where you been all day?"

"Up the trail. Jacob says I have to stay in town on account of busting open my wound again. I hired Jimmy Crow to pack some clothes and such down to Goodge's for me. Spent the day getting things together." He stepped closer to the stack of crates as a man pushed a barrow loaded with supplies toward them through the press of people. "Were you looking for me?"

"Yeah. I need your help looking for a man. I'm watching for him now, but it's possible he's already here. I been looking around all day and haven't spotted him, but with all these stampeders everywhere..." Ed's ma.s.sive shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Keep watch for a small, wiry man with dark hair and a scar on the back of his left hand. Name's Karl. He's likely dressed in city clothes."

"What's he done?"

"Nothing...yet."

The timbre of Ed's voice had changed. Thomas moved around to get a better view of his face. "What's that mean?"

Ed glanced at him, then went back to watching the pier. "It means he's Dengler's man and he might be after Viola. Dengler and Dolph won't say if he's in town or not."