Alaskan Brides: Gold Rush Baby Part 13

It hit him in his gut. The muscles in his legs tensed, ready to run to her cabin and make sure she was all right. "How'd you find out about him?"

"Viola. I talked with her this morning. Asked her if Dengler had any other men like Dolph working for him. She said this Karl and Dolph usually work together."

The nerve along his jaw jumped. Thomas clenched his hand around the pistol in his pocket, turned.

"Where you headed, Thomas?"

He stopped, looked back at Ed. "To watch Viola's cabin."

"You got a pistol?"

"Yes."

The sheriff nodded. "I'm making you my deputy. Frankie's staying nights with Viola, but if this thug shows up, we need to stop him before he can get anywhere near them. I'm gonna keep searching here amongst the stampeders. If he gets by me, and you get him cornered, don't let him get close. He likes to use a knife, and you'd be no match for him with that b.u.m shoulder. You keep him covered and have Frankie hogtie him, then come for me."

His blood turned gelid at the thought of a man with a knife near Viola. He nodded, turned to go.

"One more thing, Thomas."

He looked back.

"I don't know if he's a thrower. But if it looks like he's fixing to toss a knife at you, shoot him."

A special dress. One that would make her look all girly and pretty.

Viola added a few chunks of wood from the firebox to the coals in the stove, to chase away the chill of the night air, took her seat at the table and pulled the oil lamp closer to the paper. Frankie-raucous carpenter, pistol-shooting avowed spinster and deputy, Frankie Tucker-was in love.

All girly and pretty. That request was so far from Frankie's normal boots, split skirt and leather belt hanging with tools. But love made you want to be beautiful for the man who held your heart.

Tears filmed her eyes, blurred the profile outline of a woman's body she'd drawn on the paper. For her that was impossible. She would forever be tarnished, defiled in Thomas's eyes. But Frankie would have her girly dress. And she would see the love and admiration in Ed Parker's eyes. And she would know she was beautiful to him.

Viola blinked her vision clear, picked up the pencil and sketched in short, dark curls on the figure's head. First...a collar that would stand up in the back-so Frankie's curls would touch it-then curve around and end in a modest V above her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, with a rose at the joining. Next, a fitted bodice with small mother-of-pearl b.u.t.tons, dipping to a V at the front waist that mimicked the line of the collar. And long sleeves that ended in a lace-trimmed V on the back of Frankie's hands. She drew the lines, studied them, nodded. She would gather fabric along the bottom edges of the V, and then bias-cut it so it fell back in a graceful swoop to become a modest train.

She sketched in a full underskirt, ended it in a scalloped hem trimmed with roses at ankle height, then added a deep, gathered flounce that would brush the floor. What else? Something to make it special. She looked at the drawing, noted the way the bodice ended in a V at the front but was plain in the back. She added a small, lace-trimmed semicircle of fabric that draped over the back of the overskirt, reminiscent of a bustle, drew a large bow where it joined the bodice in the back, and smiled.

She winced, touched her fingers to her sore lips. The dress was special, feminine and beautiful. She would make it in a lovely, cream-colored silk. But one thing more was needed. She added a wide band of fabric, cl.u.s.tered with roses, among the dark curls. Now it was perfect. Frankie would have her wish.

Tears flooded her eyes. She tried not to, fought with all her strength to keep from imagining herself in such a gown, standing before an altar, being wed to Thomas. But the image was there before her. And then she looked into his eyes. The image dissolved in another spate of tears. All she could see was the hurt and disillusionment that had been there when he had turned away from her. She could not bear to do that to him again. Not ever again. A marriage between an ex-harlot and a man of G.o.d was impossible.

She tucked the hopeless dream deep into her heart, turned down the wick to extinguish the light and walked from the room.

Chapter Seventeen.

"You look done in, Thomas." Ed Parker lifted the blackened pot in his hand toward him. "Coffee?"

Thomas shook his head, winced. "I had some before I came."

The sheriff set the coffeepot back on the potbelly stove and took a swig of the hot, dark brew in his cup. "Looks like you need sleep more than coffee. You get any?"

"Some. I spotted Jimmy Crow on his way into town this morning, and got him to watch while I caught a short nap. He's there now." Thomas rubbed the stiff muscles at the back of his neck. Leaning against that tree all night was playing havoc with his injured shoulder. "I came to see if you had any luck spotting Karl." Saying the name brought that chill of fear for Viola, followed by the heat of fury. He took the anger out on his stiff neck muscles. The ma.s.sage loosened them.

Ed Parker shook his head. "Nope. But it'd be easy enough for him to hide in amongst the stampeders. I spread the word to the businesses. Everyone will be watching for him. If he goes into a store they'll let me know. Trouble is, I've got to get Dengler and Dolph over to Skaguay and get them in a proper jail." A frown darkened his face. "I don't like leaving town while Karl might be roaming around, but I don't wanna trust those two to a deputy."

"I gave this some thought last night, Ed." As if anything else could find s.p.a.ce in his head. "It seems to me, if Karl is in town, it's either to meet up with Dengler, or finish the job Dengler and Dolph started." The words almost choked him. "And if he's been here, he's heard about Dengler and Dolph being arrested. That and gold are all anyone's talking about. He could have decided to leave. And there's one other possibility." He took a breath, stared at that black coffeepot. "I was thinking back over the other night and I remembered a detail I'd forgotten. Dengler mentioned having a 'house' in Skaguay. It could be Karl is there, waiting for Dengler to return." Please, G.o.d.

"That makes sense." Ed nodded, took another swallow of coffee. "That'd explain why Dengler and Dolph aren't talking about him." He smiled, drained his cup and hung it back on a hook on the wall. "That trip to Skaguay is looking more inviting. I'll make a call at Dengler's place, once I get him and Dolph settled comfortable in a cell. If Karl's there, I'll see if I can't arrange something, so I can take him to jail to join them."

Thomas nodded, held his hope in check. "Meanwhile, if Karl is here he'll show up at Viola's cabin sooner or later. I'll be hidden in the woods, waiting." He turned, reached for the door, jumped back as it was shoved open from outside.

"Sheriff Parker, I've come to lodge a complaint!" Evelyn Harris burst into the small room, her face tight with anger.

"What's that Mrs. Harris?"

"I want you to do your job and throw Viola G.o.ddard out of town! There is a-parade of stampeders on our road, coming and going from her place! Why, I could hardly make my way through them to get here."

The sickness slammed into his gut again. Thomas clenched his hands, held back the recriminations that sprang to his tongue. "Is there a law that holds a person responsible for people on their road, Ed?"

"Not any I know of." A frown touched the sheriff's broad face. "I'm afraid I can't help you, Mrs. Harris. I can't go arresting someone 'cause there's people on their road. That being the case, I'd have to arrest you, too, seeing as how you live there."

"That is ridiculous! I am not-"

"Not what, Mrs. Harris?" Thomas met her furious gaze.

"You know very well what, Mr. Stone! You were at Viola G.o.ddard's cabin that night. You heard what was said. And you know, as well as I, why those men are swarming to her cabin."

"Yes, I do. It's because someone started a vicious rumor about Miss G.o.ddard. The stampeders are responding to that rumor."

Evelyn Harris gasped, whirled. "I want that woman thrown out of town, Sheriff. There is no place in Treasure Creek for her kind. If you need proof of what she is, I suggest you go ask those stampeders." She jerked open the door, looked back. "If you do not do your job, I shall speak with the mayor about getting a new sheriff! Good day!" She stepped outside and slammed the door shut.

Ed Parker, shook his head. "Guess that woman's mama never scrubbed her tongue with soap for telling lies."

"I'd like to do it now." Thomas took a breath, blew it out slow. "A parade of stampeders." What had that woman and her vicious tongue done? Images ran through his head of Viola holding Goldie and humming...sitting in the rocker, her head bowed over her sewing...feeding him when he was helpless...talking and laughing with Hattie...her home, so comfortable, so peaceful and serene. And now, thanks to Evelyn Harris, that comfort and peace had been destroyed. A parade of stampeders? He'd soon put an end to that! He tugged his hat low over his eyes and slammed out the door.

Viola lifted the huge pan of dough out of the hole, put another down in its place and replaced the boards.

"Where's that dough, Viola?"

"Coming!" She hurried to the table and dumped the dough out on the floured surface. "Are you all right, Hattie? If you're getting tired-"

"I'm fine, Viola. I ain't had so much fun in ages." Hattie rolled out the dough, picked up the tin gla.s.s she was using and started cutting out circles. "You'd best give that wash pan to Mavis and get to the shakin'. We're gettin' behind."

Viola glanced at the board that stretched from the stove to the table. It was covered with fried doughnuts. She handed the empty pan to Mavis, who was busy mixing up the next batch of dough, grabbed the muslin bag off the corner of the table, dumped in some sugar and cinnamon, added a dozen of the doughnuts and shook them. When they were coated with the sugar mixture, she shifted them to a basket, grabbed another dozen doughnuts and repeated the process.

"We're running out of doughnuts!"

Margie's bellow was clear, even over the hubbub in the kitchen. "Gracious, already?" Viola added another dozen doughnuts to the basket, picked it up and hurried to the front window. A line of stampeders stretched in front of Frankie, Margie and Lucy as far as she could see.

"Here you are." Frankie handed half a dozen doughnuts to the man in front of her. "Just drop your donation in the bowl there." She nodded toward the end of the table, grabbed up her empty basket.

"Here are more doughnuts." Viola dumped the doughnuts in the empty basket Lucy brought to her and hurried back to the kitchen. "Lana, you're a genius. The stampeders just keep coming and coming. I couldn't see the end of the line from the window."

Lana laughed, brushed a lock of hair off her forehead with her forearm and went back to tending the frying doughnuts. "At this rate, we'll not only have money enough to pay for the materials to make the window swags and pads for all the pews, but we'll be able to buy a carpet for the entrance hall as well. Did you hear any...comments?"

Viola's stomach turned. She'd been so busy, had been enjoying the women's company so much, she'd almost forgotten. She shook her head. "No. By the time the miners reach the stoop, they seem to have forgotten about...everything...but doughnuts."

"Or Frankie's fierce look changes their mind." Lana giggled. "I do think Frankie's volunteering to do the selling was smart. That pistol she has tucked in her belt discourages more than someone being light-fingered with the donations we're collecting."

"Yes." She blinked her eyes, cleared her throat. "Frankie is a true blessing."

"And so are you, Viola. To many of us, in many ways." Lana smiled, started lifting fried doughnuts out onto the draining board. "Now let's get back to work. We've money to make today."

Thomas stepped away from the pile of plump burlap bags, tried to decide from the look on Ed Parker's face if the news from Skaguay was good or bad.

The sheriff squinted, pulled his hat brim down against the lowering sun. "What're you doin' here? I figured you'd still be hiding in the woods."

"I don't need to until later."

"What's that mean?"

"It means Viola is safe until tonight. Some of the women from the church are at her cabin baking and selling doughnuts."

"Doughnuts?"

"All day." Thomas fell into step with the sheriff as he headed for his office. "Evelyn Harris was right, Ed. You can hardly walk down the road for the stampeders beating a track to Viola's cabin." He frowned, felt that clutch in his stomach. "It doesn't start out that way, but by the time they get to her road, it's doughnuts they're after. And guess who's standing on the front stoop selling them?" He glanced up at his friend. "Margie, Lucy and Frankie. Pistol and all."

Ed Parker threw his ma.s.sive head back and let out a belly laugh that drew gazes from the crowd around them. "No man would buck a crowd of women, especially if one is wearing a pistol like she knows how to use it." He shook his head, grinned. "Trust women to come up with a way to protect one of their own."

"For today." Thomas followed the big man into his office. "But there's still tonight. And tomorrow... What did you find out in Skaguay?"

"Good news. For Viola, not Karl." Ed Parker tossed his hat onto a hook on the wall, stomped over and flopped down into his desk chair. "You'll be able to sleep in that room you're paying for at Mavis's tonight."

Thomas sat in the other chair, held on to his patience as the sheriff leaned back, lifted his legs and plopped his booted feet on his desk.

"I went to Dengler's 'house' in Skaguay. And you were right. Dengler left Karl to keep an eye on things while he and Dolph came to Treasure Creek. But Karl got greedy and tried to rob a miner of his winnings from a card game. Turns out the miner was better with a knife than Karl. Slit his gullet. And that's not all the good news." He crossed his huge arms over his ma.s.sive chest and grinned. "Seems Dengler left Seattle in a hurry after one of his girls turned up dead. He come up to Skaguay and opened a place to get his share of the stampeders money. But one of the stampeders in Skaguay knew about the girl. He wrote his brother about Dengler's new place, and a sheriff's deputy come up north to arrest Dengler and Dolph and Karl for murder. He was looking for them when I brought them in. They're going back to Seattle on the next ship. And they won't be coming back."

Thank You, Lord. Thank You for protecting Viola. "That is good news, Ed. Very good news." He rose to his feet.

"Where you going?"

"To the boardinghouse. To get some sleep."

"I thought maybe you'd like to come along while I tell Viola she doesn't have to be afraid of Dengler or Dolph or Karl ever showing up at her place again."

He wasn't ready for that. He had a ways to go before he could talk with her about her past. The way his heart felt, maybe he'd never be ready to do that. But there was one thing he knew for sure. All that had happened proved he was head over heels in love with Viola G.o.ddard. He shook his head, reached for the door. "I think she'd prefer you went alone."

"Oh, Hattie, it's over. I can hardly believe it." Viola sank down onto the settle and buried her face in her hands. "Five years...five years of..." She shuddered, lifted her head. "It doesn't matter. Not any more. It's over. I'll never have to live in fear again."

Hattie nodded, knit another st.i.tch on the mittens she was making for Goldie. "Seems like the good Lord is givin' you a new beginnin' all right. Mayhap now you'll stop hidin' them eye-catchin' red curls 'neath them ugly snoods."

"You knew?"

Hattie glanced up, shook her head. "Not 'til Dengler showed up. But once I learned 'bout everythin', it wasn't hard to figure out why you kept tryin' to make yourself plain as possible. A woman beautiful as you would of had a lot of customers. Ain't unlikely some of them would come pa.s.sin' through Treasure Creek, headin' for the gold fields."

"Yes." The relief vanished like the smoke drifting up the chimney to disappear in the sky. What had she been thinking? She touched the healing cuts on her lips, ma.s.saged the scar on her hand. It wasn't over. It would never be over. She would always have the scars. And the shame.

She looked up at the sampler she'd worked on in such faith. How foolish she'd been to believe it was possible for her to leave her past behind.

Tears filmed her eyes, blurred the words into shapeless forms without meaning. Thomas hadn't come with the sheriff to tell her. And he would have. She knew he would have...before.

Chapter Eighteen.

Thomas gritted his teeth, clenched his hands on the edge of the table at Jacob's probing. "I was planning on using that shoulder again."

"Not for anything strenuous. Not for some time." Jacob frowned, put padding over the wound and covered it with a clean dressing. "This is not healing as fast as I would like, Thomas. That second tearing did more damage than I first thought."

"Are you saying-"

"You have to stay in town, baby this shoulder and arm. No chasing around on the trail, no trips to Indian villages until I give permission. One slip...one wrench of that shoulder and you might lose the full use of your arm."

"That's not what I wanted to hear." Thomas slipped off the table, donned his shirt and tucked it into his pants. "I was hoping to go home today."

Jacob shook his head. "Not a chance. I know how rough conditions are at that hut you live in. And at Goodge's you won't be chopping wood or hauling water. Or carrying injured stampeders off the trail and bringing them to me, for that matter. You stay in town."

He nodded, frowned. He'd known something was not quite right with his arm, but...Jacob's hand clamped on his good shoulder. He looked up.

"I'm serious, Thomas. The use of your arm is at stake here. It needs rest and time to heal. Do as I say." Jacob released his grip. "Come back and see me in a week-unless there's some change. Or you do something stupid."

"Me? Never." He tugged on his jacket, dropped payment in the bowl and went out the back door. Now what? He glanced toward the mountains that encompa.s.sed the town, stepped out from behind the clinic. Rising wind, from the direction of the harbor, chilled his face. He sniffed the air, frowned. The storm the sky had promised when he woke was getting close. A walk in the woods was out of the question. He started left across the intervening lots, toward the back of the boardinghouse, but the agitation in his gut told him it was impossible to go and sit in his room. And he sure didn't feel like talking to anyone.

He retraced his steps, bucked the flow of people heading to and from the clinic and the new hotel a short distance behind it, crossed the road and cut through the lot between Mack Tanner's house and store. People cl.u.s.tered at the corner of the road, milled around the store. He turned away from the hubbub of the waterfront, skirted Lana Tanner's fenced backyard garden, put his right hand on top of a picket in the fence that separated the Tanners' yard from the church property and hopped over.

The hum of conversation from the crowded waterfront muted, then faded away as he strode across the wide, deep lot behind the church. He paused beneath a tree with bare branches and scowled up at the sky. It was as gloomy as the grim prognostication for his shoulder and arm, as stormy as his thoughts.