THROUGHOUT THE WINTER of 1897–98, Karen had understood why Skagway and the surrounding area was called what it was. Coming from a Tlingit word that meant “people of the north wind,” Skagway bore the brunt of the chilled arctic air that bore down on the coast from the northern mountains. Dyea was no different. Now, however, with summer upon them, the reverse was true. Winds coursed in from the coast and rushed through the valleys and canyons toward the mountains.
This often made travel up the Chilkoot Trail very difficult. Karen tried not to think about the trials and tribulations and focused instead on Jacob and the land itself. Adrik gave her botany lessons, increasing her understanding of the land and the people who dwelt there.
Determined to carry her share, Karen had allowed Adrik to decide how much she should carry. He had fixed her with a twenty-pound pack, advising her that once she grew used to this, they could increase the weight. She adjusted well at first. She even thought him silly to have given her so little. But by the end of the first day, Karen was grateful for Adrik’s wisdom. After a long day twenty pounds felt more like two hundred pounds.
Casting her load aside, Karen dropped wearily to the ground and sought the support of a nearby spruce. With its heavy branches towering above her, Karen leaned back to look toward the sky. How long had they been at this? How long would they journey until they found Jacob, Bill, or the promised land of the Yukon?
Day after day it was the same. They trudged through muck and mud, forded streams and rivers, and bedded down at night to the restless sounds of the coastal rain forest.
“When do you think we might find Jacob?” Leah asked after they’d been on the trail for nearly a week.
Karen shrugged. “With your brother’s determination, that would be hard to say. He was bound and determined to get north before too much time passed. He has a two-month lead on us, and up here timing is everything.”
“She’s right, you know,” Adrik told Leah. He threw more wood on the fire, then sat down on the ground beside them. “Jacob’s probably already in Whitehorse, knowing him.”
“Where is that?” Leah asked, her face lit up in eager anticipation. She had talked of little but Jacob since they’d begun the trip.
“Whitehorse is over the mountains and farther north. Remember the map?” Leah nodded. “It’s north past Lakes Lindeman and Bennett, Taggish and Marsh,” Adrik said, stretching his hands out to the fire. “You’ll get your fill of it all traveling by boat, that’s for sure.”
Yawning, Leah stated she was on her way to her tent, where Grace and Miranda were already bedding down for the night. She first turned and looked to Adrik and Karen for hope. “You do think we’ll find him, don’t you?”
“You mean Jacob?” Karen asked. She couldn’t really say why, but she felt that Leah had begun to give up thoughts of finding her father. Maybe it was easier for the child to think of him as gone and deal with the loss, just in case it was true. Karen smiled at Leah’s hesitant nod.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe we could find him,” Karen replied. She sincerely hoped she wasn’t giving the child false encouragement.
The chill of the evening made Karen forget that it was already the first week in June. She shivered and decided it might be just as well to turn in with the rest. Even the packers were bedding down for the night. In fact, Dyea Joe and his sturdy little wife, Merry, had long since made their way to bed.
She thought it even more sensible to leave when Adrik scooted closer and put his arm around her. Her instincts suggested she flee, but her heart bade her stay.
“The nights are unpredictable,” he murmured.
She turned, her face only inches from his. More than a little aware of the intense way in which he regarded her, Karen nodded. “I’m sure they aren’t the only unpredictable thing up here.”
Adrik smiled in that roguish way she’d come to love. He raised his brows and leaned closer. “Being unpredictable only adds to the adventure. But, on the other hand, if you learn to watch for the signs, you’ll come out just fine.”
“The signs, eh?” Karen said, unable to look away. She wasn’t sure at this point if she could have willed herself to look elsewhere under any circumstances.
Adrik ran his hand up her arm before giving her shoulder a squeeze. “I’ve lived up here all my life, you know. Maybe not right here, but close enough. You’d do well to stick close to me. I can teach you things.”
“What kind of things?”
His smile broadened. “All sorts of things.”
Karen lost herself momentarily in eyes dark as the coffee they’d shared at supper. She trembled, but this time it wasn’t from the cold. She jumped to her feet, uncertain as to whether she’d imagined his mouth moving closer to hers.
“I think I should join Leah and the others.”
He looked up at her and shrugged. “Guess you have to do what you have to do.”
Karen had half expected him to try to convince her to stay a while longer. When he didn’t, she couldn’t help but be disappointed. “All right, then,” she said, still not entirely convinced of her mission. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“All right,” he murmured and stretched out on his side before the fire.
She looked down at him and saw the amusement in his expression. He knew how she felt. He knew she wanted to stay, but he wasn’t going to ask her. Frustrated, Karen turned sharply on her heel, causing her shortened skirt to flair.
“Nice ankles,” Adrik called. “Been meanin’ to tell you that all day.”
Karen felt her face grow hot. If she turned around now, she knew she’d find some excuse to stay. Stay true to the mission, she told herself. Go to bed with the others and sleep off this silly infatuation. Tomorrow things will seem a whole lot different.
She reached for the tent flap just as she heard Grace pose a question to Miranda.
“Will you do that with me? We could get up before the others and pray for Peter and even Mr. Paxton. We could pray for your folks and my mother. Not to mention the trip and our safety.”
“I think that would be wonderful,” Miranda replied. “Of course I’ll pray with you.”
“I thought you would. I know Karen isn’t feeling too interested in such things. We should also pray for her. She’s been deeply wounded. I know exactly how she feels. Sometimes it’s hard to accept that God’s ways are not always our own. I haven’t always liked how things turn out, believe me. Mr. Paxton has been nothing but a thorn in my side, but I am willing to trust that God’s Word is true. I will pray for my enemy, and I will pray for my husband.”
“I’m glad you haven’t lumped them together,” Miranda replied.
A deep sensation of loneliness flooded Karen. She had been replaced by Miranda in Grace’s life. Grace had demonstrated such strength of character in dealing with Mr. Paxton and others around her that Karen felt almost like a student—she was no longer the teacher and mentor.
She couldn’t help but remember the stand Grace had taken with Paxton back in Dyea. She wasn’t afraid of the man in any way. She had simply taken a stand on her faith in God.
Have I only been playing a role? Karen wondered silently. She had been raised in a loving Christian home and had never known a day when God wasn’t revered and honored. She had prayed almost before she’d learned any other form of communication. Had it all been for naught?
Grace has something I want, she thought. She has a grasp of God that I cannot seem to take hold of. Yet I’m the one who taught her. I’m the one who brought her into an understanding of faith in Jesus. How can it be that she has grown so far beyond me?
Miranda and Grace’s words had ceased, and Karen could only suppose they’d concluded their discussion. She entered the tent, grateful for the dim lantern light. It had been very thoughtful of them to leave it turned up so that she could see.
Karen prepared for bed quickly. The choices were limited and desiring to stay as warm as possible, she wasn’t about to worry about bathing or other notions. She turned down the lamp until the flame went out, then made her way to her pallet. Slipping into her sleeping bag, compliments of the latest shipment from Sears Roebuck, Karen snuggled down, relishing the feel of the sheep’s wool against her cold cheeks. The contraption had cost her thirteen dollars, an outrageous sum, but Adrik had thought it a worthwhile purchase. He’d reminded her that the product would eliminate the need to bring so many separate pieces of bedding. With that in mind, she’d purchased a bag for both herself and Leah. By the time Grace and Miranda had decided to join them, however, the bags were completely sold out.
But Adrik was ever to the rescue. He had procured heavy wool blankets and promised they’d work just as well. Karen prayed it was so. The nights could still be quite cold, as tonight was.
“Karen?” Grace’s whisper came through the silence of the night.
Surprised, but pleasantly so, Karen turned onto her side so that she might not disturb Leah, who slept behind her. “Yes?”
“Thank you for inviting me to come along. I don’t know what I would have done without you. The months away from you were . . . well . . . I missed you greatly. Miranda is a dear sister to me, but you were like a mother. I needed you then, just as I need you now. I just wanted you to know how very much I love you and thank God for you.”
Karen felt engulfed in her friend’s love. She felt a lump in her throat constrict her words. “That means so much,” she barely whispered.
Karen reached across the distance between them in the darkness. She touched Grace’s shoulder and followed the contour of her arm down to her hand. There, Karen clasped their hands together.
“Grace, I want to pray with you and Miranda. I know I haven’t worked through all my feelings yet, but I know that prayer is where I must begin. I need help, however. Would you and Miranda stand by me?”
“But of course,” Grace whispered as if there had never been any doubt of Karen’s decision.
Karen felt Grace tighten her hold. Without meaning to bring up the past, Karen said, “I see he never bought you a ring.”
“No, he never did,” Grace replied.
“I’m sorry, Grace. I’m sorry things have been so bad. I’m sorry Peter is so angry, and I’m sorry I helped to fuel that anger.”
“Mr. Paxton has a way of bringing out the worst in all of us,” Grace murmured. “It should be no different for you or Peter.”
“He brought out the best in you,” Karen replied. “I still have the vision of you standing up to him in defiance. It reminded me of David and Goliath.”
“Me too. I kept thinking of David’s declaration. ‘Thou comest to me with a sword, and with a spear, and with a shield: but I come to thee in the name of the Lord of hosts. . . .’ I felt the strength soar through me and imagined what David must have felt being in the presence of God’s mighty protection and power.”
Karen breathed a sigh and knew that God had given her that display of power as much as he had Mr. Paxton. He wanted her to know He was still God and He understood her pain and suffering. He wanted her to know that He had not forsaken them nor handed them over to the wicked—to Paxton.
“Good night, Grace,” Karen said, giving her friend’s hand another squeeze before pulling back to snuggle back down into her bag. “You are truly the image of your name, and I thank God for the honor of calling you friend.”
————
The next morning Adrik was surprised to find Joe hunched over the campfire, talking to a long forgotten friend.
“Crispin Thibault!” Adrik called out as he bounded from the tent. “In all the world I never thought I’d find you here.” He laughed heartily and waited as the man stood in greeting before wrapping him in a big bear hug.
“Adrik Ivankov, still the bear of the north, I see,” Crispin said with a laugh that betrayed his absolute delight. “I saw Joe and figured you had to be close by. Then I spied your red-and-white flag and knew it had to be you.” Crispin pointed to the strip of material Adrik kept tied to his tent flap. This same type of material was tied to the caches that represented the group’s supplies.
Adrik had used the red-and-white material to mark his tent since he’d been a boy. His father had taught him this simple method for identification. It was almost as good as paint- ing numbers on the doorpost of a house, and in some ways it was even better. Friends knew each others’ markings, while strangers had no idea of the significance.
“What brings you back to Alaska?” Adrik questioned.
Crispin shrugged. “Gold—what else? I was residing very comfortably in the house of one of my French cousins when all this gold rush news came to entice us. I thought, why not travel north and see my old friend Adrik? I figured I’d find you in Sitka but heard tell you’d taken to living on the coast at Dyea.”
Adrik nodded. “Been there a little over six years, off and on. I still travel more than I stay in one place. That’s why I live in a tent instead of a house.”
“You should come to stay with my French cousins,” Crispin teased. “You’d not willingly go back to tenting.”
“Maybe you have a point at that. So what news have you brought us? The communications are poor up here. We’re lucky if we get a newspaper from Seattle now and then. What of the problems with Spain?”
“Well, let me think,” Crispin said, looking rather thoughtful. “President McKinley has called for seventy-five thousand more volunteers to help out with this misunderstanding.”
“It’s a bit more than a misunderstanding. They blew up the Maine,” Adrik replied. “We can’t be havin’ that.”
“The rest of the world, including your Russia, has asked President McKinley for a peaceful end to this matter.”
“It’s not my Russia. I’m an American. I was born in this territory and plan to remain here,” Adrik said, adding, “This land has been pretty good to the both of us, and it didn’t happen by letting other folks push us around.”
“Be that as it may, America may well fight this war alone.”
“I’m sure we won’t fight alone,” Adrik replied with great confidence. “We’ll fight with God on our side.”
Crispin laughed. “You Americans are always believing such nonsense. I think winning your revolution went to your heads.”
“You sound like an Englishman.”
“Forbid that!” Crispin declared rather dramatically. “My dear departed mother would swoon if she heard it said that I remotely resembled those tyrants. She’d rather I be called an American!”
“Now, that’s a thought,” Adrik said, slapping Crispin on the back with a hearty laugh.
“What’s all the commotion?” Karen asked as she emerged from her tent. Miranda Colton was on her heels, tucking her long braided hair into the confines of a warm wool bonnet.
“Come meet my good friend Crispin Thibault,” Adrik called. He motioned to Karen and Miranda. “I’ve not seen him in, what? Seven years?”
“To be sure,” Crispin replied, his gaze fixed on the ladies. “My, but you travel in much prettier company than when I left you.”
Adrik laughed. “There’s two more just as pretty inside the tent, but these will do for starts. This is Karen Pierce and Miranda Colton.”
Crispin drew his six-foot-three-inch frame to full attention, then gave a deep bow. “Ladies, I am charmed.” He straightened and grinned at Adrik. “You are a man of many surprises.”
“Not half as many as you, my old friend,” Adrik leaned closer to Karen and added, “It is rumored that our Mr. Thibault is in line for the throne of some small European principality.”
“How very interesting,” Karen said, nudging Miranda. “We’re in the presence of royalty.”
“Nonsense!” Crispin declared rather theatrically. He waved his arm and lifted his face to the cloudy skies. “It is a very minor principality, indeed, and my place in line is a dozen or more cousins away from ever being crowned.” He lowered his face and leaned toward Karen as though he would tell her a great secret. “Perhaps if I strike it rich, however, I may yet buy myself a throne.”
Miranda giggled and even Karen smiled.
“So who are you traveling with?” Adrik asked, not entirely happy to find Crispin’s attention so strongly focused on Karen.
“I came up with a rather disgruntled group who call themselves by the family name of Meyer. I dare say, I’ve little desire to go the course with these very unpleasant folk and thought I’d appeal to you, Adrik. Might I join you and your . . .” his voice fell away as Grace and Leah pushed back the flaps of the tent and joined Miranda and Karen. They looked to Adrik as if questioning him about Crispin’s identity. Crispin leaned closer to Adrik and added, “Gentle women?”
Karen turned to Grace and Leah. “This is Adrik’s friend Mr. Thibault. He is of some European aristocracy, and we must be very nice to him, as he plans to buy himself a throne.”
“Oh!” Leah said, her mouth round in surprise. “Are you a king?”
Crispin laughed and bowed low before Leah. “Not at all, but I dare say, you are surely a princess.”
Leah’s expression fell and her frown surprised them all. She turned rather abruptly and ran off toward the river, leaving them all in stunned surprise.
“What was that all about?” Adrik questioned, looking to Karen for answers.
“Her father is believed dead,” Karen said, looking to Crispin. “He used to call her that. I’ll go talk to her.”
“No, please, allow me,” Crispin begged. “For I am the offending person.”
“You are also a stranger,” Karen replied.
Crispin smiled and pulled the woolen cap from atop his head. “I do not wish to be a stranger to either of you. I would be most stricken, however, if you refused me this. I feel quite bad for having hurt the young lady.”
Karen looked to the tent and then to Adrik. Adrik nodded, knowing she was looking for his approval of the situation. “Her name is Leah Barringer and she’s just turned thirteen. I do not believe she’s very well acquainted with the . . . shall we say . . . charms of aristocracy.” She eyed the taller man with great intensity, and Adrik might have laughed out loud had the matter not involved the child’s feelings. Crispin was no threat to anyone; he knew that as well as he knew his own name. The man was one of the most sensitive and caring fellows Adrik had ever known, in fact, and should Karen deny his request, Adrik knew it would have cast a cloud of despair over his friend.
“I shall endeavor to prove myself worthy of your trust, my dear lady.” He lifted her hand and placed a kiss atop her fingers.
Karen, still very serious about the entire matter, nodded as Crispin lifted his gaze. “Very well.”
Crispin pulled his cap back on and headed after Leah. Adrik followed the gaze of the three women as they watched him disappear into the woods. He then observed as each woman looked to the others with grins that suggested they knew a secret he had not been privy to.
“My, my,” Grace spoke first. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone quite like him.”
“Me neither,” Miranda replied. “Did you see his hair? All those lovely black curls.”
“And his eyes,” Karen added. “Such a dark blue, yet so bright and full of laughter.”
“And such a regal bearing. Why, I’ve no doubt he must be from the lineage of kings,” Miranda said, straining to catch another glimpse of the man.
Adrik rolled his eyes. Women! What a lot of nonsense. He could personally run circles around Crispin Thibault. The man possessed great endurance and courage, there was no doubt about that. And he was charming and quite the orator when necessary, but he wasn’t anything that special. Scratching his chin, Adrik listened to the three women chatter on and on. At first he’d been happy to see Crispin, but maybe his initial joy would be short-lived. After all, he had no intention of fighting his friend for Karen’s affection, yet she seemed just as enthralled as Miranda and Grace Colton.
“We’re going to be striking camp in thirty minutes,” he said after hearing his fill. “I’m not waitin’ on anyone.”
He doubted they’d even heard him, for not one of the women acknowledged him. Walking away, he met Joe’s stoic expression and shook his head. “You’ve got black hair, and I never saw them get all swoony over you.”
Joe pulled off the white bowler and rubbed his head. “Got no curls.”
Adrik grinned. “Me neither. But I’ve got my sights fixed on having a bunch of redheaded children someday, so I guess me and Mr. Curlylocks better have us a talk.”