The Alaska Brides Collection Part 38

But as he said the words, Tucker followed up with a silent prayer for the Lord to forgive him for his lack of complete honesty. Sure he was happy, but in equal measure, he compared the blessings the Lord had bestowed on them to the same places where G.o.d seemed to have forgotten him.

He probably ought to say something. Ian surely would understand. But then, what good could come of admitting to Ian and Meredith-and to Braden and Amy, for that matter- that he envied the life they led?

No, he didn't need anyone to feel sorry for him. The Lord had blessed him with food in his belly and a warm fire in his cabin at night, even if he did sleep alone. That combined with the presence of Meredith and her in-laws left him hard-pressed to complain.

Still...

Tucker swung the pick, felt the satisfying thud of metal against rock, and knew he'd have to hit a whole lot of rocks before he came close to forgetting.

If he ever did.

"Oh, I almost forgot." Ian reached into his jacket and retrieved what looked like a letter. "From Seattle. I figured it might be important."

The only person he knew in Seattle was Uncle Darian. The address on the front did not belong to his uncle. "That's odd," he said, as he unfolded the letter and began to read.

"Something wrong?"

"There is, actually. It's Uncle Darian." He looked up at Ian. "He died."

"I'm sorry." Ian rested his hands on the handle of his pick. "What happened?"

Tucker folded the letter and stuck it in his coat. "The letter said he'd been ill awhile but wouldn't let anyone write us. Said he didn't want to bother us with his troubles." He shook his head. "That's Uncle Darian for you. Always worrying about everyone else."

"Yes, that fits with how Merry described him." Ian shrugged. "We'd always hoped to show off Douglas to him someday. I wanted to meet him and shake his hand."

"He would have liked that very much." Another thought occurred to Tucker. "Merry will be upset. There was a time when I tried to convince her to move in with him. Times were hard that first year, and I figured Alaska was no place for a lady, you know?"

Ian nodded. "And while Merry would've been wonderful for him, I have to be selfish and say that I'm glad she didn't listen to you. If she'd been there, we wouldn't be together and we wouldn't have Douglas. Did you think about that?"

When Tucker shook his head, Ian continued. "No sense telling Merry now, since there's nothing she can do about it but fret. Best wait until tonight, and I can tell her."

"No," Tucker said. "You're partly right. We'll wait to tell her, but we're going to tell her together."

Ian studied him a minute. "I reckon that's fair enough."

"Reckon so."

Tucker resumed working, as did Ian. He prayed while he worked; then as generally happened, his prayer turned to humming.

Not too long after, the humming became a full-fledged version of "Rock of Ages." His singing voice resounded in the acoustics of the tunnel.

Awhile later, Tucker laid aside his singing. "I'm going to have to go take care of his affairs. That letter was from a lawyer. Said Merry and I've got an inheritance of some sort."

"You'll have to take care of that before winter."

"And Merry can't go." Tucker shrugged. "Not with the baby so small."

Ian landed a blow on the rocks, then reached for what looked like a decent-sized nugget. "Then it's settled. You'll head for Seattle next week to take care of your business. Tonight we can talk about how you'll get there and when you'll go."

"I'll need to speak to Merry, but since you're her husband, you ought to know this, too." Tucker met Ian's gaze with a direct stare. "I'm sure Merry told you that our pa left some debts back in Texas." When Ian nodded, Tucker continued. "Well then, I intend to use whatever Uncle Darian left me to settle those. I know we agreed to share anything between us, but I've got to do this. I wouldn't dream of taking anything off Merry's side, so don't you worry about that."

"I wasn't." Ian laid down his pick. "But he was Merry's father, too, so we'll be shouldering our share. End of discussion."

"No, it's not." In all the time he'd worked and lived side by side with him, Tucker had never wanted to challenge Ian Rafferty to fisticuffs. He was about to change that record when Ian spoke.

"What am I missing here, Tucker? Merry will want to pay for half, and you know it."

"Yes, I know it." Tucker studied the toe of his shoe a moment before lifting his gaze to meet Ian's stare. "I'm telling you that, as the last male in the Smith line, this is my responsibility. I reckon the job of making her understand is going to be your responsibility."

Ian chuckled. "Want to trade with me?"

Tucker went back to his work with a grin. "Not on your life, pal. You chose her for a wife; now you're going to have to live with that."

"That may be," Ian said, "but one of these days you're going to find a wife, and then we'll see."

Skagway, Alaska Fiona began to plot her return to civilization before the s.h.i.+p left the dock in Seattle. The Minters had stayed a full week while Da went about preparing for his only daughter to be s.h.i.+pped north against her will. Keeping mostly to herself, Fiona left her room only to prepare meals.

When the s.h.i.+p left Seattle, she calmly waited in her stateroom until the vessel had cleared the sound. She'd said her good-byes to Da at the farm, knowing the situation was temporary, but even then she'd cried.

By the time they disembarked at Skagway, Fiona had subst.i.tuted praying for plotting. She'd crafted two more letters, which she mailed early on the third morning in the city.

The reverend and his wife made her feel welcome in their new parsonage, but she itched to get on with the process of settling in Alaska. The sooner she was settled, the sooner she could make her departure. Bad weather and the lack of a suitable guide kept her from taking the land route to Goose Chase.

While waiting for the weather to clear and the s.h.i.+ps to begin plying their routes, she settled into an uneasy peace with the Reverend Minter but never managed the same with his wife. Finally the day came when Mrs. Minter gave her the good news: A suitable mode of transport to Goose Chase by water had been secured. She would leave on the morrow.

"How do you feel about fis.h.i.+ng?" Mrs. Minter asked.

"Outside of the good Lord and a hot cup of black coffee, that's about my favorite thing. Why?"

A knowing smile had been the only response. Until Fiona set eyes on her mode of transportation, she'd had no idea what that smile meant.

Upon arriving at the docks, however, Fiona realized she'd been booked on a trawler that reeked of the fish it sought. The reverend escorted her aboard and saw her settled into a storage room that was the closest thing to a stateroom before muttering a brief prayer and making a swift exit.

Much as she loved to fish, she generally declined to inhabit s.p.a.ces within reach of their scent. This time, she obviously did not have that option.

The trip upriver was uneventful, yet Fiona found sleep elusive at night and an object of desire during the day. Finally, when their destination was within sight, Fiona wandered up to the deck.

"I will never get the stench out of my trunk," she muttered as she watched the crew prepare for docking in Goose Chase.

"Oh, I don't know, miss. I find a decent bath and a scrubbing will reduce the smell a bit."

Fiona whirled around to see the elderly captain, a man she now knew to be Mrs. Minter's uncle, Boris Svenson, also known as Captain Sven, grinning in her direction. She adjusted her traveling hat and clamped her mouth shut. No good could come from making a response.

"It helps if ye rinse the first time in salt.w.a.ter." He shrugged as he stepped over uneven boards with nimble feet then called out instructions to the crew before turning his attention back to Fiona. "Worked for my wife. She never once complained after I'd scrubbed meself proper," he said as he removed his cap and studied the deck. "May the Lord rest her soul."

"Oh," she said softly. "I'm terribly sorry about your wife."

"Worry not, miss." His downcast look was replaced by a twinkle in his eyes. "The dear woman only wished for my happiness. I've been lookin' for a gal t'keep me warm come winter." He inched closer. "So, you're quite the lovely la.s.s. Are ye meetin' someone special in Goose Chase? If ye are, my niece didn't mention it."

Fiona bit back the caustic words that threatened and forced a smile. "Why, yes, I am," she practically purred. "Two of them, actually."

"Two?"

"Yes, indeed." The smile broadened as she cast a glance toward the little town. "Brothers, actually."

"Brothers?" The captain's busy brows went skyward as he sputtered for a response.

Taking pity on the poor man, Fiona gathered her coat about her. "My, but it's chilly out."

"Chilly? Why, this is practically a heat wave compared to what it's usually like up here. The Lord's been kind in giving us mild temperatures. Just wait until the winter sets in."

Winter? A time when s.h.i.+p traffic ground to a halt due to storms and ice? Oh, no. She'd be long gone before the snow fell.

"Say, would you happen to know when there's another vessel headed back to Seattle?"

"Seattle?" He gave her a questioning look. "Ye haven't even set foot on the sh.o.r.e, and you're already plotting t'leave? I call that downright odd. What say you, Mr. Smith?"

Fiona followed the captain's gaze to a man standing nearby on the sh.o.r.e. Trying to focus through the sun's glare, she made out the silhouette of a shock of dark hair, a pair of broad shoulders, and long legs.

"Well, now. That depends. You didn't propose marriage again, did you, Cap? That's usually why the girls run off." The lanky fellow s.h.i.+fted positions, deepening the shadows covering his face.

An acid reply refused to be restrained. "I'm no girl, sir," she said through clenched jaw. "I'll have you know I'm going to be a doctor."

"A doctor?" The man's voice was deep and decidedly Southern. "I don't believe I've ever met a lady doctor, especially not one wearing such a hat. What sort of odd bird had to be robbed of that feather?"

"And you'll not be meeting this one either, sir." With that, she added a decidedly unladylike frown and turned on her heels. "If you'll excuse me, I believe I've left my other glove in the stateroom."

"Stateroom?" the fellow on the docks called. "Since when does this old tub have staterooms? Cap, did you redo the place when you heard you'd be transporting lady doctors? I sure hope you polish the chandeliers before I board. You know I like things just so."

The sound of the men's laughter sent Fiona skittering below deck. The glove retrieved, she returned to the deck to find both the captain and the arrogant rapscallion gone.

Fiona picked her way across the deck and negotiated the narrow plank that served as an exit, all the while waiting for the irritating man to return so she could educate him on the proper treatment of a lady. Her foot slipped on a patch of ice, and she nearly went sliding toward the dock. Skidding to a stop atop her trunk, Fiona gathered her skirts and her wits.

"It's only temporary," she whispered. "Keep smiling." Then she spied her brothers and the smile broadened.

Braden saw her first and called her name, but Ian outran him to lift her into the air and then envelop her in a bear hug. "Welcome to Goose Chase, Fiona."

Chapter 3.

Oh! Ian! Put-me-down!" Fiona gave her brother a playful swat as her traveling hat tilted and obscured her vision.

Ian complied, but not before he made one last spin. He set her down on the uneven boards, then feigned exhaustion while Braden grasped her shoulders to keep her from landing on her posterior.

"I didn't expect to see both of you," she said as she recovered her balance and straightened her hat.

"Amy's visiting her father for a few days." Braden's b.u.t.tons nearly burst as he straightened his shoulders. "It seems as though I'm going to be a father."

Fiona's squeal of delight nearly drowned out Ian's peal of laughter. While Ian clamped his hand on his brother's shoulder, Fiona wrapped her arms around his middle to give him a tight hug.

"Thank you both," Braden said. "Amy couldn't wait to tell her da."

Ian took a step back. "You don't seem excited about this. What's wrong?"

Braden shook his head. "It's nothing, really. I mean, I know women have babies every day, but..."

Fiona reached for her brother's hand and met his gaze with an unwavering stare. "Braden, you can either spend every minute of Amy's time waiting for something to go wrong, or you can open your eyes every day and thank the Lord that He has entrusted you with a new life." She paused to let her statement sink in. "Which will it be?"

"You've grown up, Fifi." Braden swiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands then gave her a wry smile. "What happened to the little girl I left behind?"

Ian released his grip on Fiona and reached for her bag. "Braden, you know how she hates to be called Fifi."

The serious moment pa.s.sed, and her brothers returned to being, well, her brothers. Some things never changed.

Braden chuckled. "I know," he said as he sized up the stack of items she brought. "You still like coffee as much as you did before?"

Fiona gave him a serious look. "More."

"I sure hope you brought some," Ian said. "Tucker's about to drive us mad, worrying you might forget."

"Who's Tucker?"

"That's Merry's twin brother," Ian said. "Remember, I wrote to you about him."

"Ah, yes," she said. "I remember."

"He obviously doesn't know our Fiona." Braden shouldered the bag, grabbed another, and then turned to head down the dock. "She wouldn't think of starting a day without a cup, eh, sis?"

"Hey, Braden, remember the time she walked all the way to town for coffee beans because Da wouldn't let her take the horse and buggy out alone?"

"We were out," she said.

While her brothers chuckled and made short work of moving her things, Fiona studied her surroundings. On first glance, Goose Chase seemed nothing more than a collection of ramshackle huts perched alongside a river so narrow it barely supported a decent vessel. In truth, other than the trawler she arrived in, the favored conveyance seemed to be small canoelike rowboats made of what looked to be some sort of hide.

"Am I going to have to ride in one of those?"

"Actually, your things are," Ian said. "Most of the time you'll be walking."

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at Ian in disbelief. "Walking?"

"Yes, but only if you want to get to your new home," Ian responded.