Snow Angel Read online

  There were many other, lesser transgressions to shock him with that she knew by heart, like a creed, the mantra of her existence: the subtle lies, the petty thefts, the calculating maneuvers to get what she wanted, what she needed to survive to the next day, the men on the goldfields … lonely men, who were so easy to take advantage of. She’d grown overly confident, thinking she could play the game without paying a price. And she’d been very successful, until Ross.

  No, Noah could not possibly understand her—he was from a different world. He certainly wouldn’t want her as his business partner, and she needed him to believe she had agreed to his plan. She needed the help of his friends to get through the winter. Never mind that for the first time she felt the emotional upheaval of a dull pain in her chest and enormous guilt when she looked into his clear blue eyes as he, hopeful and excited, spoke of their partnership come spring. She squashed the emotions. A conscience was something only the rich could afford.

  Throwing elk steaks onto the hot skillet, she attempted to cook the meat. The steam and sizzle coming from the blackened pan sounded like she felt. Why must he probe and poke at her? He knew nothing about the black, empty hole that gaped inside her where his questions lurked. What had happened to her parents? As if she hadn’t wondered that a thousand times and then determined to wonder about it no more. Why did he have to make her think of it again? But she couldn’t seem to help it. The one memory locked deep in the recesses of her mind, a place she hadn’t visited in years, mercilessly surfaced. A woman … soft, warm, comforting, motherly embrace. A smile that had beamed at her. Eyes that had glowed with love. Had she imagined it? She was afraid to dwell on it, that it might disappear into nothing but a wishful daydream. No, it must have been her mother. Her real mother.

  Then the memory of aloneness—feeling so utterly alone and frightened, with no one to come when she called. Dark rooms and loud voices and children crying, all blurred together for the first years. She’d learned the value of disappearing into silence those years.

  The memories were clearer around age five when, she had since concluded, she must have been moved to a different orphanage. She’d received a good education and plenty of food, simple and repetitive though it was. The girls were like girls anywhere, she supposed, some kind and loyal, some spiteful and mean. It hadn’t been bad, really, but it would take more humility than she possessed to tell Noah about it. She didn’t want or need his piteous stare.

  The real trouble had started later when she was adopted. She ground her teeth, turning the meat over in the pan, stabbing at it with a sharp fork, as she thought back on pinch-faced, evil-eyed Margaret Dunning and her shiftless husband, Henry. She repressed a shudder, remembering how they had inspected her, making her stand and turn around, examining her teeth and then her body before taking her home with them. It didn’t take long to figure out what the Dunnings had really wanted. With them, she’d learned all the colors of dirt, how hard clay was and full of rock, how little by little even a skinny girl could move mountains. She learned to hide food in her pockets and then, when they’d found that, in underclothes and broken-down boots. She learned the sting of a switch, the sound it made as it slashed through the air depending on its thickness, and the haphazard aim of blind anger.

  It had taken six long years before the Dunnings had finally realized that, even with her, they still couldn’t make a living off the dirt. Henry came home one day, drunker than usual with more than whiskey. He’d been struck by gold fever. He’d heard of a strike in San Juan, Utah. The next instant, it seemed, they were moving west. It had been her first ray of hope. Out west she could run away. There would be opportunities and, like the prairie schooners she watched sail by, she intended to float away on the first one that came along. But the unexpected happened: Elizabeth caught the fever. Gold was all she thought about. The next big strike was always just around the corner, hope a heavy aphrodisiac. And it was contagious. All three worked doggedly to find the mother lode. Elizabeth had been sure that gold was the answer to all her problems.

  One day Henry had shown up in camp after a long absence with a toothless, ear-splitting grin, as excited as she’d ever seen him.

  “Where you been? What you been up to?” Margaret had asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed. “You’re hidin’ somethin’, I know you.”

  Henry shook his head, grinning, something he rarely allowed himself to do because of his blackened, rotten teeth. He dug into the pocket of a pair of faded tan pants. What he pulled out left them both speechless. It was the biggest chunk of gold they had ever seen, laying right in the center of his dirty palm.

  The air whooshed out of Margaret as she snatched it out of his hand. “Where’d you get that?” she demanded, looking at it with amazed glee in her eyes.

  Henry’s chin rose up and his chest puffed out with pride. “I found me a new claim, woman. Gold showing on the surface, thick as my wrist.”

  Elizabeth was aghast. Henry never spoke to Margaret like that, as if he demanded her to respect him. Margaret quickly burst his bubble.

  “You? A new claim?” she shrieked. “Why you no-good, lying thief. You stole that or did somethin’ evil to get it.”

  Henry shook his head but didn’t look her in the eyes. “N-no,” he stammered. “I didn’t do nothin’ wrong. Now you two pack up. We got to get back to that claim afore’ someone else takes it. I covered the gold, so’s I could come back for the both of y’uns. Didn’t have to do that, ya know. I could’a left you, woman. Gone off and got rich on my own. But I didn’t. I came back for you.” He turned suddenly toward Elizabeth, eyes mean and hard. “And you, girlie. We got plenty of work for you to do, so be quick about it and get this camp broke up.”

  Elizabeth turned away before he could see the flare of rebellion in her eyes and began gathering supplies. Had Henry really struck the mother lode? It seemed impossible that he’d had such luck. Like Margaret said, he had probably done something bad, terrible even, to gain possession of that nugget. But maybe, just maybe, something had finally gone their way.

  They packed up that morning and started west, Henry muttering about a dirt trail head that he had marked with a large rock. Three long, exhausting days later they came to the new claim. Elizabeth could not believe what her sight told her. Under an overhanging cliff, there was a vein of gold showing on the surface of the rock that trailed in a glittering path from their feet to higher than Henry’s head with no end in sight. It promised to be a fortune.

  She hadn’t been fooled though. A person didn’t stake a claim on a spot that had already been mined as this one had, especially if gold was showing on the surface. Only an idiot would part with a claim like that—or a dead man.

  Margaret must have thought the same, for she accused Henry of murdering a man to jump the claim. Henry had at first denied it, for days stuck to his story and then, in a sobbing, drunk fit, admitted to the deed. What Elizabeth overheard later that night had sent the first real, chilling fear for her life coursing through her entire body. Husband and wife had talked at length of how they would blame the murder on Elizabeth and concocted an elaborate story to support their claim. She’d known then that she had to escape. They would never share the wealth with her anyway. She forced herself to see the truth—that they would use her, use what little strength she had to help dig out the gold, and then horde it for themselves and blame the murder on her.

  In the end, she heard that a man’s body was found downstream from the claim. The body had a bullet hole in it, and some men had recognized the miner. They were looking for the killer. All she knew at the time was that Henry had suddenly become nervous. The end had finally come. Elizabeth had to get away from the Dunnings and whatever law would eventually catch up to them. That’s when she’d escaped. The man and woman had been so distracted by the gold that it had been easy.

  At seventeen years old she had crept away in the middle of the night and joined a family going to Northern California, telling them her parents had been taken by typhoid.
It was a common enough occurrence and they hadn’t questioned her.

  Reaching California, Elizabeth had finally broken out on her own. She’d mined here and there for as long as the gold lasted, alternately panning and sewing for a living. Then she’d gradually worked her way to Seattle and the edge of the continent. After settling into a meager existence as a seamstress, she’d met Ross and learned that the Dunnings were looking for her. The knowledge terrified her, wearing grooves of fear into her mind. What if they were still trying to convince the law that she was responsible for the murder? Miners hung men for stealing, much less killing. It wouldn’t matter that she was a woman, either. Both Henry and Margaret were experts at lying and swindling. If they had made it look like she’d done it, then her only chance was to get as far away as possible. And she could never see Ross again. What he had done to her … no, she couldn’t think of that.

  Then, in the middle of July, just before her twentieth birthday, her salvation came. Word of gold in the Yukon Territory of Canada reached Seattle. Gold was waiting, hidden in the streambeds of a place so vast, so treacherous, so forbidding that she could lose herself. Something told her, in the pit of her stomach, that she would find what she was looking for here, in this icy wilderness laden with streams of gold.

  * * *

  January 5, 1884

  Dear Mrs. Rhodes,

  I apologize for the length between letters. I have not given up hope, but thus far I have found no other clues as to the whereabouts of your daughter. Rest assured, I shall not stop trying.

  Thank you for the additional payment. I am considering another trip to the New York Orphan Asylum. Sometimes, after the passage of time, people will begin to talk again.

  Sincerely yours,

  Jeremiah Hoglesby

  Private Detective for Hire

  Six

  The sudden opening of the door interrupted her retro spection. A boisterous shout followed the noise. “Noah, come on man, get the door open!”

  Noah pushed through the door with another tall man and a big, beautiful white dog following close behind.

  “Wesley, you old dog, how’re you doing up here on this slab of ice?”

  Before Noah had a chance to answer, the blond man went on in an accent unfamiliar to Elizabeth. “I just returned from Seattle, can you believe little Juneau? That town is booming.” His voice trailed off as he spotted Elizabeth by the table. Letting off a long whistle he said, “Didn’t know you’d gone and gotten hitched.” He gave Noah a leering grin. “Can’t say as I blame you, though. She sure is pretty.” Raking his floppy brown hat from his head, he nodded and said, “Hello there, ma’am.”

  Elizabeth only nodded to him and looked at Noah questioningly.

  Noah cleared his throat and said, “Uh, she isn’t my wife, Jacko. She’s … a friend.” Walking over to Elizabeth, he took her hand in his and led her over to Jacko. “This is Elizabeth, and this is an old trapping buddy of mine, Jacko Cherosky. And this fellow”—he ruffled the thick fur of the dog’s neck—“is a Semoya named Kodiak. A Russian through and through, both of ’em.”

  The blond man smiled with dazzling white teeth. His dog was beautiful, all white with a thick ruff about his neck and a curled tail. Kodiak frisked around the room, sticking his nose into everything, including Elizabeth’s skirts. Jacko stretched out his hand. “Glad to meet you, ma’am.”

  Looking at Noah he boomed, “You better snatch her up while you can. She might just be the prettiest single woman in the whole Alaskan territory. The place is full of men, and she won’t last long!”

  Elizabeth didn’t like the way he was talking about her as if she wasn’t even there. “I didn’t come out here to catch a husband,” she said coolly.

  “Well then, what did you come out here for?” There was a twinkle in his eyes that lit up his face.

  She could feel Noah watching her as she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “For the gold, of course. A woman has as much right to that gold as a man, doesn’t she?”

  Jacko laughed and dramatically gripped his heart. “She’s wounded me, Wesley!” Then he stopped and looked at her with a slow smile. “But in answer to your question, ma’am, any woman that has the grit to mine for gold deserves to hit the mother lode.”

  Elizabeth gave him a stiff smile. “I’m glad to hear it because that is exactly what I plan to do.” She turned to Noah. “Shall I serve dinner? Your guest is probably hungry after his long trip.”

  Noah nodded, strode over to his chest of drawers and pulled out the bottle of liquor he kept around for his friend. “Some whiskey to warm you up, Jacko?”

  Jacko threw his big parka over the back of the sofa and settled into a chair, “Of course, of course. It’s cold enough to freeze the ba-a”—he glanced at Elizabeth and continued—“um, that is, the tail off a shaggy beast such as Kodiak here.” Grinning broadly he shrugged. “The usual.”

  Elizabeth glanced over from the kitchen and frowned at the slushy tracks from the big stranger. Again she marveled how remarkably neat and clean Noah was in comparison to most of the men she knew. It would be interesting to see if his manner changed much around another of his kind. Her gaze wandered to the friend seated in a low wooden chair by the fire. He was a good-looking man, as tall as Noah but not quite as wide in the chest, with his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. Jacko. Hmmm, the name fits him. His voice and mannerisms bordered on boisterous, making wide sweeps with his hands as he talked with Noah. Then Noah told the story of how he had found her barely alive on his doorstep.

  * * *

  NOAH FOUND HIS attention wandering to Elizabeth. He couldn’t seem to concentrate on Jacko’s litany of the boom going on in Juneau. And, confound it, he was usually so glad to see his old friend. They only saw each other once or twice during the winter months. And when Jacko came to stay, he usually stayed at least a couple of weeks.

  Noah returned his gaze to his friend and felt heat steal up his face for only the third time in his life that he could remember, two of them in the last few days. Jacko was looking at him with knowing eyes and a mocking grin. Noah wondered if he looked like the lovesick puppy that he was beginning to believe he was. No doubt he did. Shifting in his chair, he determined to give his friend his full attention when her sweet voice called out, “It’s ready!”

  Jacko laughed heartily as Noah jumped out of his chair. “Looks to me like your bachelor days are numbered, my friend. That is, if she’ll have you. She could certainly do better.”

  Noah would have taken exception to that remark, except for the sparkle in his friend’s light blue eyes. Jacko was going to have a good time teasing him about this, no doubt about that.

  “You wouldn’t be thinking an old scoundrel like you would make a better catch, now would you?” Noah asked, with just a little more aggression than he meant. They were nearly locking horns by the time they made it to the kitchen area, where Elizabeth was standing with her hands on her hips, glaring at both of them.

  “What makes you two giants think I’d take either of you?”

  She slapped the plates of food on the table with a bang for effect and turned back to the stove, trying to hide a smile. She lifted the heavy bowl of rice and moved it to the table, pulled out her chair, and sat down next to Noah. Folding her hands in her lap, she bowed her head and waited expectantly for Noah to bless the food.

  Jacko cleared his throat and quickly ducked his head.

  Noah said a quicker grace than usual and began to eat.

  “So, Mr. Cherosky, what is the news from Juneau concerning the gold rush?” She darted Noah a look. “Noah may not be interested, but I’d like to hear anything you can tell me about it.”

  “Well, ma’am, I was shocked when I got back to this area. It’s a regular boomtown, as you probably know. I’ve been in Seattle, doing a little trading and stocking up on goods. I was barely able to get passage back up here when I did. The ships are loaded, and the price of fares is just plain thie
very. But I had to get supplies for the trading post if this crowd is going to weather out the winter in Juneau. Has Noah told you we’re partners?”

  Elizabeth looked at Noah and raised her eyebrows. “No, he seems to have left that out.”

  “Well, we and a third man, Will Collins, own the only trading post in Juneau. We arrived before anybody was here but the natives and a few miners from the Juneau strike, which was about ten years ago, and it’s already paid off, hasn’t it, Noah?” He looked briefly at his friend with a wolfish smile.

  Noah only nodded and continued to chew. He thought it best for his own self-preservation if he just kept his mouth shut for a while.

  “Anyway, I was elected to go south for a heavy run of supplies, miners’ supplies and food mostly, to hold all of us through the winter.” Turning toward Noah, he exclaimed, “You wouldn’t believe some of the schemes and gadgets they’re trying to pawn off on those green, would-be miners. There’s a cure for the scurvy, steam-powered sleds, and I even brought back a pair of ‘Klondike boots’ for a good laugh on Will.” He laughed uproariously. “They have spikes on the bottom and armor plating on the outside. A man wouldn’t get a mile in them! You have to see them.”

  Turning back to Elizabeth he said, “There’s more than one way to strike it rich in this gold rush.” He winked at Elizabeth and cut into a big chunk of meat.

  “Well, I must say, you have a hand in all the pies, Noah. You really should have let me know this before we agreed to become partners. I may have had a different answer.”

  Jacko looked back and forth between the two of them, asking with raised brows, “You two are partners?”