Alaskan Brides: Gold Rush Baby Part 14

The faint sound of chatter from the cabins that lined the road running along the other side of the churchyard floated to him through the quiet. He leaned against the tree trunk and rubbed his gritty eyes with the heels of his hands. He'd spent a restless night going over every single thing that had happened since Viola ran into him on the walkway outside Tanner's General Store the day of Goldie's kidnapping. It was impossible that it was all simple coincidence. And the logical conclusion for it all...the only answer that made sense...was that G.o.d had wanted him to stay in town to protect Viola. But Dengler, Dolph and Karl were no longer a danger to her. So why had things worked out so he could not go home and return to his ministry of the Tlingits and the stampeders on the trail? He'd figured everything was over. Except the way he felt.

He picked a piece of loose bark off the trunk, absently sliced his thumbnail along its length, shredding it. Viola's need for his protection was gone. And his love for her, his desire to be with her forever would fade...in time. Not that he would act on it, even though he now accepted that Louise's and Susie's deaths were not his fault. As Hattie had told Viola, there was both evil and good in the world, and bad things happened because of it. He'd just forgotten that for a while. Allowed the truth to be pushed out by his emotions. But G.o.d turned the bad to good for those who loved Him, who were called according to His purpose....

He brushed the clinging bits of bark from his hands, folded his arms across his chest and stared down at the ground, examining a new thought. What if G.o.d had a twofold purpose in all that had happened? Perhaps G.o.d had purposed to set him free of the burden of guilt he had carried for the past three years and to protect Viola. Falling in love with her was his own doing. But things had changed.

Only your knowledge of her past.

The words flashed into his head, settled in his spirit. Conviction came, swift and unrelenting, leaving his heart stripped bare. He had come to a place of understanding that night in the woods. But the hurt and anger were still lodged in his heart. He was still sitting in unfair judgment of Viola. Blaming her for not trusting him enough to tell him of her past. And for a betrayal that existed only in his own heart.

Thunder rumbled. Dark clouds tumbled across the sky. But the light had never shone brighter. He pushed away from the tree and strode toward the church, heedless of the rain that was starting to fall. A hinge squeaked quietly as he opened the door and entered the building. Frankie, Margie and Lucy had wasted no time. The pile of lumber and the sawhorses were gone. A smell of paint hung in the air. He swept a glance over the new, vertical-sided walls and stepped into the sanctuary.

A hush enveloped him, broken only by the rain tapping softly against the stained gla.s.s windows. He walked down the center aisle between the pews, knelt in front of the altar and bowed his head.

Teena's herbs had worked wonders. Viola peered at her image in the mirror, turned her face this way and that to better see in the tenebrous light from the window. The cuts were healed. Only the redness of the scar at her temple remained, and it was fading. A few more days and the redness would be gone. There would be nothing left to remind her of Dengler's last, terrifying attack. Except the stain on her soul.

Lightning flickered, the white brilliance dancing across the mirror. Thunder grumbled. She pulled her hair back into a cl.u.s.ter of riotous red curls at the crown of her head and reached for the blue snood that matched her skirt. No. She lifted her gaze, looked straight into the violet-blue eyes in the mirror. "You will not cower and hide in shadows. You will not live in fear any longer."

Goldie gurgled and waved her arms in the air. Rain spattered against the window.

Viola leaned down, caught and kissed the chubby little hands. "I wasn't talking to you, little Miss Goldie. But thank you for offering your opinion. I guess, since you're smiling, it's a favorable one." She straightened, looked in the mirror at the dark red curls at her temples and on her forehead, lifted her hand and touched the ones that nestled against the nape of her neck. She would not hide her "eye-catchin' curls" any more. A smile touched her lips. Hattie would be so pleased.

Lightning slashed a yellow streak through the murky gray outside the window. Thunder crashed. Goldie let out a squall. "No, no, little one. There's no reason to be afraid. I'm right here." She scooped her up, cuddled her close and carried her to the kitchen.

"'Bout time you two got here. This gruel's fixin' to boil away to-" Hattie stopped and stared. The pan in her hand dipped dangerously.

"Hattie, the oatmeal!"

"Now see what you made me go and do." Hattie clucked like a hen and set the pan back on the stove, padded across to the dry sink, grabbed a damp cloth and came back to wipe up the spill. "I knew you was beautiful, Viola, but...my!" She straightened, shook her head. "I ain't never seen such gorgeous hair. It's shameful the way you been hidin' it."

"Well, no more, Hattie." Rain tapped on the chimney cover, echoed down the pipe. She propped Goldie on her hip, used her free hand to spoon a little of the oatmeal into a small bowl and carried it to the table. "I've decided my hair is to be my symbol of freedom from...from everything." She added a sprinkle of sugar, poured milk on the cereal and stirred it smooth. "Here you are, sweetie." She spooned some of the oatmeal into Goldie's welcoming mouth.

"More like a banner of victory, if you want my thinkin' on it. The Good Book says a woman's hair is her glory. An' my, my, but the good Lord saw fit to glorify you." Hattie dished up her oatmeal and plunked down in her chair. "The glory's plumb faded out of my hair, but I got my memories." She chuckled, poured milk in her bowl and added a heaping spoonful of sugar. "Charley said he picked me that first time 'cause my hair looked like spun gold." She frowned, scooped up a spoonful of the hot cereal. "He had a weakness for gold. The old fool!"

"Well, judging from the thousands of stampeders pa.s.sing though town and braving the Chilkoot Trail, Charley was not alone in his weakness for gold."

Lightning glinted against the wet window panes. Thunder growled. Viola fed Goldie another spoonful of oatmeal and tried not to wonder if Thomas was safe in his hut, or caught in the storm somewhere on that dangerous trail, climbing the mountain.

Thomas lifted his head. The rain had stopped. The storm was over. He rose to his feet, glanced at the splotches of shimmering colors thrown on the floor by the sun coming through the wet, stained gla.s.s of the windows. A smile tilted his lips. He turned, started up the aisle and stopped, staring at Mack Tanner who was staring right back at him.

"h.e.l.lo, Thomas. I didn't expect anyone to be here." Mack strode down the aisle toward him. "Why the smile?"

"I was remembering the look on your face the day I gave you the gold nuggets to buy the stained gla.s.s windows."

"Nuggets I had buried, in the hope men would get sidetracked into looking for them and stop looking for my real buried treasure." Mack shook his head, laughed. "I sure didn't expect you to be the one that found my decoy treasure."

"That was obvious from the look on your face when I gave them to you."

"I guess."

Thomas frowned. "I hadn't thought of it before, but...I think that may have been the beginning."

"The beginning of what?"

"All that has happened since."

"You mean with Viola?"

"Yes." Thomas looked up at the windows. "If it weren't for finding those nuggets, I could not have afforded to stay in town like I have. And I wasn't even looking for them.... G.o.d always pays for what He ordains."

Mack stared at him. "Now see, it's nuggets of truth like that..." He shook his head. "Pure gold. The true riches..." He narrowed his eyes. "Did you ever think G.o.d might have had more than one purpose in giving you the 'wherewithal' to stay in town, Thomas?"

The p.r.i.c.kle of his flesh told him Mack was about to say something he needed to hear. "What are you talking about?"

"Treasure Creek. This thing with Viola has split this town apart. People who were best friends are no longer talking to one another because they have chosen opposite sides of the 'Viola' issue. Half of them think she should stay, half think she should be thrown out of town.

"And they both use the same argument-Treasure Creek is a G.o.d-centered town. I don't know what to do. I only know something has to be done, because I sure don't like the atmosphere in this town any more."

He fixed an a.s.sessing gaze on him. "I felt an 'urging' to come here, Thomas. I thought it was to pray about the situation, but now I'm not so sure. I think G.o.d may have had a different reason for drawing me here right now. Let's sit down and talk about it."

Thomas nodded and slid onto a pew. Mack joined him, leaned back and stared up at the ceiling.

"You know, Thomas, that I've thought, since that first day I heard you preaching to a group of stampeders on the Chilkoot, that you are the man G.o.d wants to fill the pulpit of this church. I feel that more strongly than ever." He turned his head and looked at him. "You have the strongest faith I have ever witnessed in a man, Thomas. My preacher dad would have said you're a man 'on fire with the Holy Spirit'."

He straightened, fastened his gaze on him. "I know you're concerned with the Tlingits and the stampeders on the trail. So am I. But more and more of the Tlingits are coming to services every Sunday. And this split that is happening among our church members shows the people of Treasure Creek need G.o.d's truth every bit as much as the Indians and the stampeders."

So they will be among my people. New plants will grow where the seeds land. You will gather those plants and tend them that they also may grow to know your G.o.d.

The p.r.i.c.kles chased down his spine, spread through him in waves. This was the truth he was to hear.

"If your faith ignites the people of Treasure Creek, this place will become so alive with faith, it will draw the stampeders before they ever start up the Chilkoot! And it's better to prevent a tragedy than to patch up the damage after one. Treasure Creek needs you, Thomas. The people need to hear the truth...those nuggets of G.o.d's riches...that pure gold that you speak without even being aware that you are teaching others. Let the stampeders and the Tlingits and the townspeople find the true riches right here, Thomas. I think G.o.d wants you to take the pulpit of Treasure Creek Church and heal this town. What do you say?"

Thomas locked his gaze on Mack and held out his hand. "I say you're right. Do I start this Sunday?"

Mack grinned, shook his proffered hand. "You sure do! I've been wanting to hand that pulpit over to you for months. And meantime you can move into your new home."

"My new home?"

Mack's grin widened. "Yeah. Haven't you noticed the new house that was just built on the corner?"

"You mean-"

"Yep. It's the Treasure Creek Church parsonage." Mack laughed, thumped him on his good shoulder. "You're not the only one with a path to G.o.d's ear, you know. Come on, I'll show you your new home while we discuss an agreeable remuneration for your services."

Thomas stood, swept his gaze around the sanctuary and felt the peace of knowing he was letting G.o.d's will fill him. "I'm already home."

Chapter Nineteen.

Viola glared at her trembling hands. Willed them to stop. To no avail. Why would they? Her entire body was quivering over what she might face today.

She smoothed her long skirt, turned to the mirror and arranged the ruffles that tumbled from her high collar to meet the broad lapels of her green, fitted jacket, tweaked the restrained fullness at the top of the long, leg-of-mutton sleeves. Her outfit was modest in the extreme, but her hair...

She stared at the ma.s.s of dark red curls at her crown, itching to reach for a snood to hide them. It was one thing to declare them her symbol of freedom here at home, but quite another to have them exposed to public view.

Evelyn Harris and her friends would be there.

She drew a deep breath, blew it out and turned from the mirror. It had been ten days since Dengler's attack. Ten days that she had hidden in her cabin, waiting for all trace of the bruising to disappear. She would cower no longer. And what safer place than church to make her first appearance? Not even Evelyn Harris would dare speak out there. And she would have her friends to support her.

"My friends." How lovely those words tasted on her tongue. What warmth they brought to her heart. She would concentrate on them. And on the happily gurgling bundle of joy at her feet.

G.o.d chose you to watch over the baby.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes. There had been such caring, such...respect for her in Thomas's voice as he had said those words. And now... She took another breath, blinked the tears away. And now Thomas was gone. Most likely, he was back in his hut on the trail, ministering to the Tlingits and the stampeders. And her chance to help him with his work was gone with him. But that was for the best. She could not bear to see that hurt, that disillusionment in his eyes again. And she would not have to face him today. Her love for him was safe. Folded up and tucked away in the deepest part of her heart, along with her dream.

"Are you ready to go to church, Goldie?" She bent and lifted the baby into her arms, cuddled her close and walked into the living room. Goldie twisted around, her chubby little hand grabbing for the curls that dangled at her temple. "Oh, no, you don't. You pull hard." She laughed and sat Goldie on the rug, gave her the little wooden dog to play with and walked to the table by the door.

One last thing to do and she was ready. She counted out a tenth of the money in the bowl and dropped the coins into a small leather poke. They made a muted click as they fell on those already in the bag.

"That poke looks right hefty." Hattie drew the sides of her jacket together over her ample bosom and fastened the fancy frog loops over the b.u.t.tons. "That rumor of a big strike beyond Dawson City sure brought them stampeders swarmin' round to get their mendin' done before they took off up the trail. And their minds wasn't on nothin' but the gold, either." She chuckled, tugged the peplum of her jacket down over her abundant hips. "Makes me wonder if G.o.d Hisself is the one planted them gold nuggets that started the hubbub. It sure took them stampeders attention off of you."

"Hattie. That's...preposterous."

"I've known of G.o.d to do harder things than that, Viola." The faded blue eyes fixed a look on her. "I've been here since the beginnin' of this gold rush and I ain't never seen the likes of this. A steady stream of gold chasers comin' off the boats and settin' out to climb the trail soon's there's s.p.a.ce enough for them to set their boots down." She looked up from smoothing her skirt over her round stomach and smiled. "You're prettier than any gold nugget I ever saw. You ready, Viola?"

She wasn't talking about being washed and dressed. Bless Hattie, Lord. She always understands. "Yes." She dropped the poke in her purse, drew the strings tight and walked over to pick up Goldie and the little wooden dog.

Viola fussed with Goldie's dress, tugged the sleeve of the sweater Hattie had knit the baby down over her pudgy wrist, smoothed a lock of her baby hair back beneath her bonnet. Anything to keep from looking at the other people filing through the church door. Anything to keep her mind off the murmur of comments she could hear in the background.

"Mornin', Mavis...Rose." Hattie moved into the entrance, sniffed. "Smells like paint in here. But don't it look bright and pretty. Them Tucker girls do good work." Hattie glanced back over her shoulder at her. "Wait'll you get them curtains made, Viola. This place'll really be spiffy then."

"More like gaudy...."

"Indeed..."

"What is she doing here?"

The under-the-breath comments came from a small group of women on the left. She turned right, glared down at her free hand. Don't you dare tremble! She pulled the poke from her purse and emptied her t.i.the into the basket.

"Ill-gotten gain..."

"Tainted money..."

The whispers followed her into the sanctuary. Hattie started down the aisle. She put her hand on her arm and nodded toward an empty pew on the right, in front of those filled with Tlingits from the nearby village. She had no desire to sit down front and be a source of disturbance during Mack Tanner's sermon.

She followed Hattie into the pew, cuddled Goldie close and tried not to see the covert glances thrown her way, or hear s.n.a.t.c.hes of whispered conversations. She lifted her chin and held her face impa.s.sive when Judith Smith and Elizabeth Dunn glanced over their shoulders at her, stood and moved with their families to the other side of the aisle.

Mavis and Harold Goodge came in, glanced around and slid into a pew in front of her. Beverly Fogel followed with her husband, James, glanced her way, stuck her nose in the air and marched forward to take a seat on the other side of the aisle behind Evelyn and Robert Harris.

Hattie's elbow dug into her ribs. "That one looks like she's been suckin' on a pickle."

She forced her lips into a smile.

Hattie nodded. "That's better."

Frankie Tucker came in with Ed Parker, scanned the congregation and spoke to Ed. He nodded and stepped back to let her precede him into the pew in front of the Goodges.

Viola caught her breath, looked over the congregation. They were choosing sides! Over her. She should not have come. Perhaps- The organ sounded. Conversations hushed. The congregation stood. Tabitha Burger stepped to the front of the aisle, nodded to the organist and began to sing, "O Blessed Lord, our G.o.d and King."

Viola stood quietly, drew in long breaths to control the churning sourness in her stomach. It was too late to leave. She would have to stay for Mack Tanner's sermon, then leave during his closing prayer. She sank to her seat when the hymn ended, smoothed Goldie's dress down over her chubby little legs.

"Good morning, everyone."

She glanced up at Mack Tanner, looked back down and took the little wooden dog out of her purse to give Goldie. How was she to endure the waiting?

"Most of you here know that I have been hoping and praying for an ordained preacher to fill this pulpit since I built the church. This morning I am pleased to tell you that G.o.d has heard and answered that prayer. It is with pleasure and antic.i.p.ation that I turn this pulpit over to the first pastor of Treasure Creek Church, Thomas Stone."

The little dog fell from her fingers. Her heart lurched. Her lungs froze. She ducked down to retrieve the dog, stayed there fighting to hold back tears. No one must see. If they should guess... Oh, if only she could leave. But it was impossible now. She would have to stay and- "...speak to you about judgment."

The word sent bile surging to her throat. She jerked upright, praying she had heard Thomas wrong, knowing she had not.

"For my scriptural basis I will use the woman caught in the act of adultery that the scribes and pharisees brought to Jesus."

Heads turned, sent cruel glances her way.

Pain, swift and sharp, pierced her heart. She had trusted him. Trusted in his caring and kindness. What a fool she was!

"...were waiting to see what Jesus would say and do. The punishment for such an act in those days was death by stoning. And there was no doubt about the woman's guilt. She had been caught in the very act they accused her of."

His deep, rich voice drove the pain deeper with every word. She caught her lower lip in her teeth, bit down to keep the sobs building in her chest from escaping.

"Do you remember what Jesus said to those gathered there awaiting His sentence of the woman?"

His gaze swept over the congregation, found her.

"He said, 'He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.'" His gaze held hers, then, again, swept over the congregation. "'He that is without sin among you'..."

A thick, heavy silence fell. And then his voice came again, quiet and deep.

"Thou shalt have no other G.o.ds before me....

"Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image...."