Golden Dawn Read online

  Copyright

  ISBN 978-1-59789-410-4

  Copyright © 2007 by Cathy Marie Hake. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  One

  April 1897, Oregon

  “Bess and I are ready to go.” Ian Rafferty set down the pail from the morning milking and kissed his mother’s cheek.

  “Not until you eat a sound breakfast.” Though Ma’s words sounded cheerful, her forced smile and the way she clung to his sleeve warned Ian she’d still not accepted his decision to go to Alaska. For the past three weeks, she’d split her time between helping him supply himself for this trip and begging him not to go.

  Bess brayed outside, a sure sign she resented being hitched to the post. As soon as the mule wore a yoke or a pack, she wanted to work.

  “Buckwheat pancakes,” Ma coaxed. “You’ll not be getting those in a good, long while. Sit yourself down.”

  “Okay, Ma. Just for breakfast.”

  Da entered the kitchen and sniffed the air. “Braden, if I’m not mistaken, I smell your wife’s sugar-cured ham.”

  Ian’s brother nodded. “You do. There’s none better than my Maggie’s.”

  The family gathered around the table. Eggs from their henhouse, ham from their hog, and the cream from their cow all testified to God’s providence. Da took his place at the head of the table. Instead of folding his calloused hands as he normally did, he reached over and took Ian’s and Braden’s hands. Braden promptly took Maggie’s, and their sister, Fiona, and Mama completed the circle.

  “Almighty Father, we give You praise for all You’ve done on our behalf, for the safety and love and bounty we’ve enjoyed by Your hand. Now, Father, we ask You to extend those blessings to our Ian as he ventures on in life. Though we’ll be parted in body, keep us close in mind and heart we pray, amen.”

  “Thanks, Da.”

  Da squeezed Ian’s hand. “I have faith God will be with you on your adventure.”

  Fiona sighed. “I wish I were going.”

  “You”—Braden waved his fork at their sister—“would gladly go anywhere so long as it was away from here.”

  “It makes no sense.” Ma dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her napkin. “Your da and I risked life and limb coming across the trail so our children would have a better life. There’s not a place in the world half as lovely as the farm we’ve established.”

  “The Oregon Trail was your adventure,” Ian said as he passed the bowl of scrambled eggs. “The Yukon will be mine.”

  Ma shook her head. “There’s no need to go seek your fortune, Ian. Your da and I claimed sufficient land for both of our sons to farm. Fertile land.”

  “The land’s not going anywhere.” Ian set down the platter of buckwheat pancakes without taking any. He’d wanted to leave at daybreak just to avoid this unpleasantness. Ever since the day he’d announced his plan to join the Alaska gold rush, Ma had pleaded with him to reconsider. The tears welling in her eyes tore at him.

  “I’m a proud man, but I’m not a fool. If I get up there and things are truly as miserable as you believe, I’ll come home and admit I chased a rainbow.” He softened his voice. “Now that I’ve given that pledge, let’s not waste our last hour together with harsh words.”

  Ian looked across the table at his older brother. Braden plowed through life with unshakable confidence. He’d loved their farm and grown up looking forward to working the acreage, marrying his childhood sweetheart, and rearing their children here. He’s already done the first two, and a more content man I’ll ne’er meet. How can it be that he’s so stable and I’m so restless?

  Braden cleared his throat. “Maggie and I—we thought this would be a grand time to lighten your hearts by telling you all that we’re going to have a babe.”

  Maggie patted Ma’s hand. “Braden’s already decided this will be a son, and he’s planned on twelve more babes—a baker’s dozen, he calls it. I’ll be grateful for your help.”

  Ma promptly swiped the coffee mug from Maggie and shoved a glass of milk in front of her. “You need to drink plenty of milk. Hedda Libman told me while I carried Braden ’tis an old wives’ tale that a woman loses a tooth for each child. All she has to do is drink a quart of milk a day.”

  Da chuckled. “Aye, ’twas sound advice. Look at your beautiful smile.”

  Ian rapidly wolfed down his food in hopes that the conversation would last long enough to let him slip away. Bess brayed again, and he shot to his feet. “Ma, those pancakes were the best ever. Maggie, same with your ham. Sis, keep on with your studies. Smart as you are, someday you might be a schoolmarm yourself.”

  Fiona scowled. “Not me. I’m going to become a doctor.”

  Da laughed aloud. “A few years back, you planned to become a librarian. Before that, you wanted to be a famous painter.”

  “Those were childish dreams.” Fiona’s chin lifted in a stubborn tilt. “I’m of an age to plan my future.”

  “And ’tis time I set out to meet my future.” Ian bent to press a kiss on Ma’s pale cheek. “I’ll be careful.”

  He hugged his sister and whispered, “ ’ Tis no shame to dream.”

  “It’s not just a dream, Ian,” she whispered back.

  He straightened and turned to Maggie. “I remember you bringing your doll to church because you wanted her to learn about Jesus. With all that practicing, you’ll be a fine mother.”

  Maggie blushed and murmured something that got lost in Braden’s proud, “I’ll watch out for her.”

  “You do that.” Ian unashamedly embraced his older brother.

  Braden growled, “Go and enjoy yourself. Don’t be sheepish in the least if you decide to come back to us. You’re no prodigal, but even if you were, Da would have to race me to the barn to kill the fatted calf.”

  Ian chuckled. “If you’d seen the supplies I have waiting in town to take, you’d think I’d already killed that calf! Ma thought up more stuff for me to take than you can shake a stick at.”

  “You’ll be glad to have it,” Ma predicted.

  Da promised to take good care of things.

  With a heavily laden mule, a Bible, and high hopes, Ian set out on his adventure.

  ❧

  Goose Chase, Alaska

  Wind whipped the air, and chunks of ice cracked and knocked together as the river began to thaw. Meredith Smith turned her face to the weak spring sun and relished the small bit of light and warmth it yielded. After a long, dark winter, even the slightest ribbon of light lifted her spirits.

  Tucker straightened from the bank of the river and lifted his net. “Sis! How’s this?”

  Tilting her head to the side, she studied the fish. “If it were any bigger, he’d be eating us for dinner!” Her twin grinned, and Meredith’s heart soared. Tucker seldom smiled. She understood why, but that made these rare moments all the sweeter.

  “Bring me a bucket. I’m going to see if I can’t catch more.”

  Meredith lugged a wooden bucket to him. “If the others are anywhere near that big, the only thing that’ll hold them is a bathtub.”

  “It’ll be good to have fresh meat.” Tucker dumpe
d the trout into the tub and turned back to try to net more. A craggy formation of rocks stuck out into the river from their claim; then the river suddenly widened from that point. The water continued to rush past, but some swirled into the wider space in an eddy in which fish sometimes took refuge. When Tucker spotted that land feature, it cinched this as the land he chose for their claim.

  Meredith watched the fish thrash in the confines of the bucket. “You’ve caught us a tasty lunch.”

  “Wish we had some cornmeal. Then he’d taste better when you fry him.”

  “I might be able to find some herbs. I’m starting to see a few sprouts coming up here and there.”

  “Don’t try anything you’re not sure of.” He leaned forward and squinted at the water.

  Meredith didn’t reply. She and Tucker saw life from opposite perspectives: he saw the pitfalls, while she looked for the possibilities. Long ago, he hadn’t been that way. Ever since the debacle, Tucker’s view of life had changed. She’d learned to allow her brother his mutterings and weigh whether they bore consideration or were merely manifestations of the burdens he shouldered.

  “Sis?”

  Meredith turned around. “Yes?”

  Tucker grimaced. “I know we need to buy supplies, but I owe plenty of folks money. Make a list of the absolute essentials, and we’ll talk it over later.”

  “Are we going to town tomorrow?”

  “I haven’t decided. I don’t want to leave you here, but taking you is dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” Meredith laughed. “We made it through a winter in Alaska. We’re tough enough to survive a trip to town.”

  “I knew it. I knew you’d grow to hate this isolation. You—”

  “Tucker, if you dare say anything about me leaving here and going to Uncle Darian, I’m going to push you in the river. Never once—not a single time—have I regretted coming here with you. We’re family, and we belong together. No matter where I live, there’ll always be challenges. In Texas, it was the heat and lack of water. Before that, it was the tornadoes in Kansas.”

  “Last time, you said it was the thunderstorms and flash floods,” he grumbled.

  “See? That just bolsters my argument. I’m going to make that list of essentials, and at the very top of it, I’m going to write ‘handcuffs.’ ” Her brother gave her a startled look. Meredith shook her finger at him. “God linked us together the day He created us as twins. If locking us together is the only way I can keep you from trying to send me away, I’ll do it.”

  “It’s not right—”

  “I agree.” Meredith knew she’d abandoned her manners by interrupting him, but too much hung in the balance. “It’s not right for you to try to send me off to Uncle Darian.”

  “He’s family.”

  “Not as close as you are.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m winning this argument. You know I am. You haven’t come up with a single valid point, and we’ve gone round and round about it for more than a year.”

  “You’re stubborn as a mule.”

  Meredith closed the distance between them. She hugged her brother. “I love you, too.”

  “You ought to.” He tugged her to the side. “I just caught another fish.”

  They’d survived the winter on smoked fish, beans, and corn mush. To be sure, Tucker also supplemented their diet with snow hare he snared and meat for which he bartered.

  “With the river thawing, this is going to be a good fishing day. I’ll fill this bucket with water, and we can keep a few alive in the cabin so they’ll be fresh the next couple of days.”

  “Wonderful!” She thought for a moment. They’d made it through the winter only with very careful planning and God’s providence. The number of meals she had sufficient supplies left to make could be counted on one hand. “I’ll gather wood, and we can smoke some fish, too.”

  “I don’t want you wandering off.”

  “I’ll stay close by.” Glancing at the empty claim beside theirs, she added, “I wonder if Percy made it to town.”

  “Based on pure orneriness, I’d say he did.” Tucker jerked up on the net and growled when he saw he’d caught nothing.

  “Are you referring to his orneriness or yours?”

  Tucker gave Meredith his full attention. “You’re full of sass today.”

  “And you’re grumpy. I guess we deserve one another.” She laughed as she walked away.

  A stand of trees stood a ways back from their tiny cabin. As the snows began to melt, branches that had fallen were revealed. Meredith dragged back a spruce limb. It sledded along the icy ground, making the task manageable. Tucker would take an ax to it later. Gathering fuel was essential both for cooking and for heat. Especially for heat.

  Meredith pulled her rust-colored woolen cloak more tightly about herself. Though the calendar indicated spring had arrived, cold was a constant companion.

  Percy, their neighbor, had arrived on the same ship she and Tucker had traveled on. They’d taken neighboring claims. By midwinter, Percy had declared that if he survived the cold, he’d return home and live out his days in the blessed warmth of California.

  After dragging over two more branches, Meredith sat down and started composing a list of essentials. She did so on a slate. Paper was too costly up here. More important, she could erase items and script in some other much-needed item without Tucker being any the wiser. Eager to enjoy the sunlight, she sat on a rock and leaned against the cabin wall.

  “Coffee,” she wrote. They’d run out of coffee halfway through the winter. As much as her brother loved coffee, that counted as a severe hardship. Had just she and Tucker been drinking it, they would have been sufficiently supplied, but men dropped by a lot. Since most of them arrived in this icy frontier alone, they often came over with mending or laundry or questions about cooking. Hospitality prompted Meredith to offer them coffee, but survival forced her not to feed them.

  An odd economy developed. Men who sought her assistance soon brought firewood or meat from game they’d shot. Twice, she’d earned enough coffee to make a pot. Just the memory of the taste and aroma of coffee made her mouth water. Oh, and the blessed heat each swallow imparted. Certainly, coffee rated as an essential.

  Beans. Rice. Cornmeal. Oatmeal. Salt. Lard. Meredith paused and stared at the list. Flour and sugar would be wonderful, but they’d make do without those luxuries. She didn’t want to write down anything for Tucker to eliminate. He’d feel bad if he denied her a single thing.

  One item she craved above all else, but she didn’t add it to the list. They’d done fairly well with a damaged one this past year. Tucker wanted a decent one just as badly as she did. If she wrote it on the list, it would only cause him needless anguish. Maybe next year they could splurge. Right now, she needed to be sure they wouldn’t starve.

  “Be sure to put down thread and needles and some buttons,” Tucker ordered as he walked up.

  “Okay.” She bowed her head over the slate.

  “Your sewing kept us from starving this winter.” He set down the bucket.

  “My sewing was responsible for us running out of coffee.” She leaned sideways and peered at the fish. “That’s a feast for fifteen in there!”

  “Four at the most.” Though her brother muttered the response, Meredith knew Tucker was proud of what he’d caught. “Why don’t you fetch the twine? I’ll start a fire, and we can string these up and smoke ’em. Whilst they smoke, I’ll catch more.”

  The fish milled in the bucket, and Meredith gave her brother a delighted look. “You caught a Dolly Varden!”

  “It took you long enough to notice.” His gruff tone didn’t begin to hide his pleasure.

  “I’m not smoking it; I’m fixing it for dinner.”

  He grunted and turned back toward the river.

  “Don’t you dare pretend that you’re slaving away. I know good and well how much you love going fishing.”

  He shouted over his shoulder, “I deserve this. No doubt, tomorrow you’ll peste
r me into hoeing a patch for your garden.”

  “I always said you were smart.” Meredith looked to the side of their tiny cabin and imagined how wonderful it would be to coax something other than gold from the ground.

  ❧

  Mud sucked at Ian’s boots. He’d tied them as tight as they’d allow, but the mud still tried its hardest to rob him of his footwear. Bess trudged along, patiently bearing the packs on her back and the seven-and-a-half-foot sled she pulled. Sure-footed as ever, she didn’t seem to mind the bone-chilling cold. Good thing, that. When his mule decided she was too thirsty or tired, she exhibited the famed stubbornness of her kind.

  Ian readjusted the straps of the pack on his own back. Despite the cold, excitement pulsed through his veins. Every curve he rounded, every step he took, seemed to feed his sense of adventure. After days on the boat to come up here, he’d gotten his fill of being stuck in close quarters with greedy men. Instead of taking the White Trail or traversing the Chilkoot Pass, he’d determined to go elsewhere. Goose Chase wasn’t even on the map, but he’d overheard a few men in Skaguay talking about the tiny town. Taking that as a cue from the Lord, Ian went to Goose Chase.

  Everything fell into place. Upon reaching Goose Chase, he met a prospector. Mr. Percy willingly exchanged his claim’s deed for ship fare to return to Washington. The ticket cost a pittance—ships emptied of their stampeders gladly booked passage to Seattle at greatly reduced rates just so they’d earn a little rather than none at all.

  Then, too, the snowmelt hadn’t yet hit the point where the path would turn into an endless mud bog. Bess didn’t like mud puddles, and they slowed down her pulling. Enough snow and ice covered the ground to let the sled skim across the surface.

  Well, most of the time it did, Ian thought as he struggled to yank his right foot free from a sucking, muddy morass. He straightened up just in time to spy a hawk floating on the currents of the icy north wind.

  “Lord, ’tis a majestic place You created here. I can feel it in my bones—’tis where You’d have me be.” Ian consulted his map again. “Not far now, Bess. We’ll be getting there.”

  A few minutes later, something struck his shoulder. Ian wheeled around.