[Yukon Quest 01] - Treasures Of The North

  TREASURES of the NORTH

  TREASURES

  of the

  NORTH

  TRACIE PETERSON

  Treasures of the North

  Copyright © 2001

  Tracie Peterson

  Cover design by Andrea Gjeldum

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN 978-0-7642-2378-5

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Peterson, Tracie.

  Treasures of the north / by Tracie Peterson.

  p. cm. — (Yukon quest ; 1)

  ISBN 0-7642-2378-X (pbk. : alk. paper)

  1. Yukon River Valley (Yukon and Alaska)—Fiction. 2. Frontier and pioneer life—Fiction. 3. Women pioneers—Fiction. 4. Alaska—Fiction.

  I. Title.

  PS3566.E7717 T74 2000

  813'.54—dc21

  00-011575

  BOOKS by TRACIE PETERSON

  A Slender Thread • What She Left for Me • Where My Heart Belongs

  SONG OF ALASKA

  Dawn’s Prelude • Morning’s Refrain

  ALASKAN QUEST

  Summer of the Midnight Sun

  Under the Northern Lights • Whispers of Winter

  Alaskan Quest (3 in 1)

  THE BRIDES OF GALLATIN COUNTY

  A Promise to Believe In • A Love to Last Forever

  A Dream to Call My Own

  THE BROADMOOR LEGACY*

  A Daughter’s Inheritance • An Unexpected Love

  A Surrendered Heart

  BELLS OF LOWELL*

  Daughter of the Loom • A Fragile Design • These Tangled Threads

  Bells of Lowell (3 in 1)

  LIGHTS OF LOWELL*

  A Tapestry of Hope • A Love Woven True • The Pattern of Her Heart

  DESERT ROSES

  Shadows of the Canyon • Across the Years • Beneath a Harvest Sky

  HEIRS OF MONTANA

  Land of My Heart • The Coming Storm

  To Dream Anew • The Hope Within

  LADIES OF LIBERTY

  A Lady of High Regard • A Lady of Hidden Intent

  A Lady of Secret Devotion

  RIBBONS OF STEEL**

  Distant Dreams • A Hope Beyond • A Promise for Tomorrow

  WESTWARD CHRONICLES

  A Shelter of Hope • Hidden in a Whisper • A Veiled Reflection

  YUKON QUEST

  Treasures of the North • Ashes and Ice • Rivers of Gold

  *with Judith Miller **with Judith Pella

  TRACIE PETERSON is the author of over eighty novels, both historical and contemporary. Her avid research resonates in her stories, as seen in her bestselling HEIRS OF MONTANA and ALASKAN QUEST series. Tracie and her family make their home in Montana.

  Visit Tracie’s Web site at www.traciepeterson.com.

  Visit Tracie’s Blog at writespassage.blogspot.com.

  Contents

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  PART THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Part One

  JUNE-AUGUST 1897

  In thee, O Lord, do I put my trust: let me never

  be put to confusion. Deliver me in thy

  righteousness, and cause me to escape: incline

  thine ear unto me, and save me.

  PSALM 71:1–2

  1

  —[ CHAPTER ONE ]—

  A GOSSAMER WRAP of glittering ivory danced across Grace Hawkins’ shoulders and enveloped her in its folds like the kiss of a summer breeze. Huge brown eyes stared out from a china doll face, serving only to accentuate the delicacy of its owner.

  Her expression might have suggested serenity, but the mood in her heart suggested quite the opposite.

  ‘‘My dear, you look radiant.’’

  ‘‘Thank you, Mother,’’ Grace replied, trying hard to smile. She had no heart for this evening or for the charade she was about to play. This should have been the happiest night of her life; instead, Grace dreaded it as she would have a dose of the cook’s tonic. Neither she nor her governess, Karen Pierce, could abide the smelly concoction and usually found an unlikely place to dispose of it before being found out. Pity Grace couldn’t dispose of her unwanted fiance as easily.

  Grace sighed. There were a great many things she and Karen had managed to avoid in life; however, engagement to Martin Paxton didn’t appear to be one of them. Karen’s quick thinking and understanding of the world would do little to free Grace from her father’s demands.

  And unlike Karen, who held animosity for any man’s demands, Grace had worked hard for a genteel balance. She could be her father’s obedient daughter, gentle in spirit and silent unless spoken to, but she could also be a reflection of her teacher. Unfortunately, as Grace grew older and began to see life for herself, the two natures warred against each other, causing her no end of frustration and confusion. Underlying Grace’s seemingly serene personality a storm was brewing, and she couldn’t help but wonder if this particularly unpleasant situation would be the missing element to unleash that storm.

  ‘‘Your fianc will be very impressed, I’ve no doubt,’’ her mother chattered on. ‘‘A woman of quality and beauty is not easily found. You will make him proud.’’

  But what will he make me? Grace wondered. She’d already met the formidable man, and while he was handsome enough, despite a thin jagged scar that marred his jawline on the right side of his face, his personality suggested an aloofness, a kind of cold shoulder that left Grace wondering if there could be any hope for love to grow.

  Looking up, Grace caught sight of her own reflection in the mirror. My, but I’m all grown-up.

  The gown, of ivory and rose, seemed to shimmer at her every move. Tiny summer roses fresh from the garden had been sewn into the neckline, sending a delectable fragrance— sweet and airy—wafting through the air. Their deep pink color appeared shaded and muted through the veil-like covering of Grace’s wrap. The teasing effect hinted of something more—something pure and special. Grace thought it a symbolic statement of her own purity, veiled and delicately concealed, yet evident for the world and one man’s picking.

  Her mother had commissioned the go
wn in honor of her engagement, and Grace could tell by the pleased expression on her mother’s face that the dress was exactly what she had hoped for. Status and appearance were of great importance to her mother. The society pages would be positively ringing with praises for the couple on the morrow, giving fuel to her mother’s energies to plan the wedding of the century.

  ‘‘Karen, put another pin in her hair,’’ Mrs. Hawkins commanded. ‘‘Right here where the curl seems wont to slip away.’’

  Karen, ever patient with her employer’s demands, did as she was instructed, then stood back. Mrs. Hawkins nodded and lifted her chin as she drew a deep breath. ‘‘There will not be another young woman half so beautiful. I will go and attend to our guests. Karen will bring you to your father when the time is right.’’ She looked back at Grace and nodded again. ‘‘Oh, I do hope the photographer has arrived!’’

  She opened the door, then paused again, her nervous excitement irritating Grace. ‘‘Whatever you do, Grace, don’t sit down! We mustn’t have you wrinkled. Karen, you remind her,’’ she said, as if Grace were only five years old instead of twenty.

  Both Grace and Karen nodded in agreement. Myrtle Hawkins seemed satisfied and turned to go.

  Watching her mother leave, Grace felt her hopes and dreams dissipate. ‘‘How can they do this to me?’’ she whispered loud enough for only Karen to hear.

  ‘‘I can’t abide it,’’ Karen agreed. ‘‘It’s tantamount to slavery.’’

  Grace lifted her sorrowful face to her governess, the term revealing little of the depth of affection the two women shared. ‘‘That’s exactly what it is. They are selling me to the highest bidder. Oh, Karen, what am I to do?’’

  Shaking her head, Karen moved to close the door between Grace’s bedroom and her sitting room. ‘‘You could always run away. We’ve discussed this before.’’

  ‘‘I know,’’ Grace said, moving to sit, then remembering the warning. Her mother would never forgive her for showing up wrinkled to her own engagement party. She sighed. ‘‘They’re all going to know the truth of it. All of society—all of Chicago.’’ Her mournful words hung heavy on the air. ‘‘Everyone who is anyone knows I’ve not been courted by Mr. Paxton. He’s nothing more than my father’s business associate.’’

  ‘‘Well, he certainly thinks of himself as something more,’’ Karen replied. ‘‘I’ve never seen a man hold such influence over your father. Why, the man practically ordered your father into giving this party tonight. I heard him myself. So did the rest of the house staff.’’

  ‘‘I know,’’ Grace replied. ‘‘I don’t understand the situation any more than you do. I want to be a good daughter and do what is expected of me, but frankly, Mr. Paxton frightens me.’’

  ‘‘Did you tell your mother?’’ Karen questioned.

  ‘‘I tried. She said it was a simple matter of virginal nerves,’’ Grace stated, her cheeks warming. ‘‘She said all young girls fear the expectations of their husbands and that I should simply pray on the matter and trust God for the best.’’

  ‘‘I agree we should pray, but I know better than to believe this is simply a case of prewedding jitters. You do not love the man and he clearly does not love you. In fact, he almost seems to resent you and everyone else in this house.’’

  ‘‘I know,’’ Grace moaned, ‘‘but what can I do? I’ve tried to talk to Father, but he’ll not see reason.’’ She paced nervously, the glimmering gown swirling around her heels. ‘‘I’m a mere woman of twenty. Father still sees me as a child, and children, in his estimation, should be seen and not heard.’’

  ‘‘I believe that to be his estimation for women in general,’’ Karen replied with a hint of resentment in her tone.

  ‘‘Father treats Mother with respect,’’ Grace countered. ‘‘He used to listen to her counsel all the time. It was only in this decision to marry me to his associate that he rejected any influence from her.’’

  ‘‘Probably because he knew what she’d say. I believe your mother wants to see you happy, even while pleasing her social circle. I also believe she had planned for you to marry one of the Willmington boys.’’

  Grace nodded. ‘‘Poor Mother. Father actually yelled at her.’’

  ‘‘Well, don’t take it on your shoulders,’’ Karen encouraged. ‘‘Your mother has known well enough how to make a go at marriage. She’s shared a silver wedding anniversary with him. That must account for something.’’

  ‘‘Perhaps if my brother, Amon, had lived. Mother said that Father was so happy having his firstborn to be a son. When Amon died, Father was inconsolable. I must have been a poor substitute.’’

  ‘‘One child is never a substitute for another,’’ Karen chided. ‘‘Now listen. You cannot go downstairs looking all glum. Whatever choice you make in the future, whether to go through with this and get married or run away, you must at least give your mother and father a pretense of contentment. It would greatly shame your parents in the eyes of their peers should word get out that you do not desire this union.’’

  Grace contemplated her governess’s words. She was so grateful for the companionship she shared with Karen. They were more like sisters than anything. Karen had been her teacher and friend for over ten years, and Grace loved her more dearly than anyone else. Karen’s wisdom had always been a gentle guide, directing Grace to acknowledge her position and duties.

  A quick glance at her watch and Karen motioned to the door. It was time for Grace to make her appearance at the party. ‘‘Well, we cannot delay this another moment. Chin up.’’

  Grace took a deep breath and lifted her face. With the slightest hint of a nod, she followed Karen. They passed from the bedroom into the sitting room and out into the long hall of the west wing. Grace tried not to feel unduly worried—in fact, she tried not to feel anything at all. Her fear for this evening was beyond anything she had ever known. She remembered her mother suggesting that with any luck they would persuade Mr. Paxton to have a long engagement, maybe as much as three or four years. Grace agreed that perhaps in sufficient time she could come to fear him less and care about him more. But while her mother had hopes for such delays, her father implied that quick action was of the utmost importance. His attitude and insistence were puzzling.

  Myrtle Hawkins had told her husband that in no uncertain terms could the wedding take place before a period of one year had passed. She would not have society believing her daughter in need of marriage. The scandal would be hard-lived, and even if the couple were slow in producing heirs, Myrtle knew how tongues would wag if the proprieties were overlooked. But despite her mother’s protests, her father was unwavering in his decision. Grace had been heartbroken over her father’s firm resolve to see her quickly joined with Mr. Paxton.

  ‘‘I wish you could stay with me,’’ Grace said, breaking free from the memories. ‘‘Mother has always been generous about allowing you to accompany me.’’

  ‘‘But this is an occasion for grown-ups, not innocent maids with their nannies,’’ Karen countered. ‘‘You are already such a delicate and petite thing, most people assume you to be years younger. My appearance would only enhance this.’’

  ‘‘I cannot bear it,’’ Grace said, fighting to hold back her tears. ‘‘I cannot have that man handling me.’’

  ‘‘He won’t be allowed to touch you,’’ Karen replied. ‘‘Not in this ever-so-proper social gathering.’’

  ‘‘But remember what he did last night after dinner?’’ Grace said, shuddering. ‘‘He thought nothing of touching me.’’ She could still feel his warm hand upon her arm. He had stroked the smooth skin of her forearm in a most intimate manner before bringing her hand to his lips.

  Karen reached out to dab the corners of Grace’s eyes with her handkerchief. ‘‘Put those thoughts aside. The man was out of place, but no doubt he was simply overcome by his admiration for your beauty.’’ She smiled. ‘‘Now, be brave and strong. The Lord will go before you.’’

  Grace nodded
. She could only pray it was true.

  Karen’s plans were for a quiet evening in Grace’s private sitting room. Reading a fashionable ladies’ magazine would help to wile away the hours and hopefully keep her from worrying too much about Grace. It was true that in the last couple of years—years in which Grace had not really needed a governess— the two women had grown very close. Karen enjoyed their relationship, perhaps partly because she had been raised in a big family with plenty of siblings. She had always known what it was to have company and someone to whisper silly secrets to. Grace was an only child who had often seemed lonely.

  Karen had first come into the Hawkins home when Grace had been but ten years old. The child already commanded proof of impeccable manners and rigid social graces, but she bore evidence of something else as well. Grace seemed lost— almost shunned. Her mother, a wealthy socialite, and her father, a successful entrepreneur, seldom had time to share with their child. They appeared to love Grace, to hold genuine affection for her, but their busy lives seemed far more important. Grace had been left at the mercy of nurses and the house staff, despite the fact that she adored both her mother and father.

  Private schooling had been considered prior to Karen’s appearance in their lives. Myrtle Hawkins had heard of the social benefits of boarding schools abroad, but Grace had pleaded with her mother not to send her away. Myrtle Hawkins seemed to understand her daughter’s fear of separation and finally gave up the idea. After that, Karen had been hired and a new kind of family was born.