Part 38 (1/2)

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.”