[Alaskan Quest 02] - Under the Northern Lights (8 page)

‘‘No. Not really.’’ She thought to appeal to the man’s sympathies. ‘‘What if Chase doesn’t come back? I’m out here—wherever here is—all alone. Will you help me to safety?’’

‘‘No,’’ he replied quite simply.

Helaina frowned. ‘‘No? Just like that—you won’t help me?’’

‘‘Can’t help you.’’

‘‘But why?’’

‘‘Chase said to keep you here. I keep you here. You stay here, and then Chase come back for you.’’

‘‘But,’’ Helaina argued, ‘‘what if he doesn’t come back? What will you do then?’’

‘‘I kill you,’’ the man said with a shrug. ‘‘Chase said to kill you if he don’t come back.’’

Helaina couldn’t hide her shock. ‘‘What? What are you saying? You would just murder me in cold blood? What kind of man are you?’’

The old man shook his head. ‘‘I go trapping. You talk too much.’’

‘‘Please don’t go. I need to talk to you about this. Look, I’m a very wealthy woman. I could pay you generously if you let me go.’’

The man just continued pulling on his parka. He appeared to have no interest in Helaina or her money.

‘‘Wait, please. I need to talk to you. I need you to help me. Please . . .’’ Helaina’s words faded. The old man had never given her his name, so she couldn’t even appeal to him by using the smallest expression of familiarity.

‘‘Can’t help you.’’

He headed out the door, leaving Helaina so overwhelmed that she burst into tears. Why was this happening? What had she done to deserve such consequences?

She thought about Jacob’s faith in God and wished for at least the twentieth time that she had such a faith of her own. At least then maybe she wouldn’t feel so alone. She thought of her housekeeper in New York. Mrs. Hayworth had a deep faith in Jesus. She often spoke of the love of God—a love that followed her out of church on Sundays and accompanied her throughout the week, as Mrs. Hayworth loved to say. But for Helaina, it had never seemed real—never important. Now, however, alone in the wilds of Alaska . . . alone with a man who planned to kill her should her murdering captor not return, Helaina thought God seemed very important.

She gazed around at her surroundings, then attempted to adjust the blanket around her shivering form. Jacob would laugh if he could see her now. He would chide her for showing up in Nome without sealskin pants and a fur parka. He would note the silly leather boots she wore—quite suitable for Seattle’s weather, but most inadequate for Alaska.

Drying her tears, Helaina pulled and tugged against the knotted ropes that held her fast. She had rubbed her wrists raw, leaving blood on the rope as a constant reminder that she was helpless to overcome this obstacle—this adversary. When had she ever known such a situation? When had money not been able to buy her out of difficulties?

The door to the cabin opened and an old woman Helaina had never seen entered the room. She held in her arms a stack of fur clothing. ‘‘This for you,’’ she said, placing the garments on the dirt floor in front of Helaina. ‘‘You dress more warm now.’’

Helaina held up her hands. ‘‘I can’t get dressed trussed up like this.’’

The woman stared at her for a moment, then went to the door.

She called out in her native language, and it was only a moment before the old man reappeared. She jabbered for several minutes, the old man arguing her comments. Then finally he waved his hands as if to shut her up and went to Helaina. ‘‘I untie you, but you get dressed very fast.’’

‘‘I will,’’ Helaina assured him. Getting loose of her bonds and being given warm clothes seemed like a momentary victory for her situation.

Helaina did as instructed, hurrying to don the heavy pants and parka. There were no mukluks to help warm her feet, but at this point Helaina decided to be grateful for what she had. As the old man replaced her bonds, Helaina thanked him for the clothing.

‘‘I appreciate your kindness. I wish you would tell me your name. I think that as much time as we’ve spent together, we should at least know one another’s names. I’m Helaina Beecham.’’

The old man looked at her and grunted. ‘‘I don’t talk to you.

You go back and be quiet now. I get our food.’’

Helaina tried not to be upset. She shrunk back against the wall to the blanket and pallet that had become her prison. Cherishing the warmth, she actually dozed off. She tried to reason a plan for escape as she fell asleep, but the pain in her head seemed to intensify, and her chest hurt when she breathed deeply. The symptoms were starting to worry her.
What if I grow ill and die? Will
anyone ever find me? Does anyone even care?

Leah felt more frustrated as they traveled. Chase not only wouldn’t share any details of his plan with her, but for the most part he refused to let her out of his sight. Leah had wanted to leave bits of cloth in case someone, preferably Jayce and Jacob, tracked after them. Her constant prayer was that by now they might have escaped and that they would learn the truth and rescue her. And they would need her to mark the way.

But with Chase continuing to watch her, Leah had a hard time marking their route. She did what she could when Chase allowed her private moments, but mostly she left great messes when she trapped animals. She tried to make sure the site appeared somehow very human in origin so as not to be mistaken for a mere animal kill. Still, she knew the odds were against her.

Leah had more than enough time to let her mind wander, which of course was very dangerous. She began to consider the situation in greater detail and worried that perhaps Chase had already killed Helaina and that he’d never taken Jayce or Jacob captive. What if it had all been a lie? A lie given because of his surprise at finding Leah in camp before he could slip away. This filled her with dread. Chase had no proof of holding Jacob or Jayce, and yet he was smart enough to know that Leah would fully cooperate with him if she thought that complicating the situation would endanger their lives.

That night as they made camp, Leah prayed to better understand her adversary. She figured that a conversation with the enemy might best serve her purpose.

‘‘Why do you hate Jayce so much?’’

The question clearly took Chase by surprise. He didn’t even take time to try and hide the truth from her. ‘‘Because he’s made my life unbearable.’’

‘‘How?’’ she fired back.

He studied her for a moment, but Leah lowered her gaze and busied herself with food preparation as she expanded her question. ‘‘How could one man make you so miserable that you would do the things you’ve done?’’

‘‘You have a brother. Hasn’t he ever made you mad? Taken something that belonged to you?’’

Leah frowned but refused to look up. ‘‘No. Jacob wouldn’t hurt me that way.’’

‘‘Well, Jayce would—and he did. He hurt me by means of his very existence.’’

‘‘How so?’’ She dared a quick glance. Sometimes seeing the man look like such a mirrored reflection of her husband was uncanny and unnerving. It was best not to look at him for overlong. Chase grew quiet for several minutes, then finally spoke. ‘‘My brother was the perfect son who grew up to be the perfect man. He could do no wrong. At least he could do no wrong in the eyes of my father, while I could do no right.’’

‘‘Would you share an example?’’ She braved the question only because she was hopeful it would somehow help her case.

‘‘My entire life was an example. Jayce learned quickly and easily. Jayce was fearful of punishment and obedient to the laws, whereas to me laws seemed to only be in place for the purpose of breaking. I thought it all rather silly. Jayce had his way of looking at life, and our parents praised him for it and his accomplishments.’’ ‘‘But they didn’t praise you?’’

Chase looked at her hard. ‘‘No. I cannot remember a single word of praise. I remember once when I startled one of the scullery maids as I came down the servants’ stairs in the kitchen. She dropped an armload of dishes and I helped her clean up the mess. My father came in as we were finishing up and demanded to know what had happened. I explained and even took full blame for what had happened. I wanted him to see that I could be responsible. Instead, he chided me—no, he yelled at me—for having come down the servants’ stairs. He told me I knew better and that this had been caused by my disobedience. I was never so angry with the old man as I was in that moment. It changed everything . . . forever.’’

He grew quiet and closed his eyes. Leah felt sorry for him and opened her mouth to speak, but closed it as he continued. ‘‘My father could have chosen to praise me for helping the maid, for being a man and owning up to my mistake, for being honest. But instead he condemned me. I have an entire lifetime of similar circumstances that play themselves out in my memories. But things were always different for Jayce. Jayce made good marks in school. Jayce saved his money and made wise purchases. Jayce showed ambition and a flair for business. I had none of these abilities, and it only caused my father to hate me more.’’

‘‘I cannot imagine a father hating his child.’’

‘‘Then you didn’t know my father.’’ Chase’s words were full of venom and bitterness. ‘‘It wouldn’t have mattered who held me in esteem. My father would have used it against me or to show me some object lesson.’’

‘‘I’m sorry,’’ Leah murmured. And in truth she was. She felt sad for the little boy who must have tried his best to please.

‘‘I don’t need your pity,’’ Chase countered.

‘‘That’s good,’’ Leah said, handing him a plate of food, ‘‘because I offer you none.’’

He raised a brow. ‘‘You are a queer woman, Leah.’’

‘‘I suppose that could be said of me,’’ she responded. ‘‘But I’m also honest. I don’t lie.’’

‘‘Everybody lies, Leah. It isn’t possible to live life without lies.’’

‘‘That is where you are wrong, Chase. Honesty is the only way to live life. If I wrap myself in lies, I’ll have nothing but misery. My mother taught me at an early age to cherish the truth—and I do.’’

‘‘Then tell me the truth now.’’

She looked at him and shook her head. ‘‘I don’t understand. Tell you the truth about what?’’

‘‘Why did you marry my brother?’’

She actually chuckled at this. ‘‘Because I love him. I’ve loved him since I was nineteen.’’

‘‘That’s your truth?’’

Leah thought about the question a moment. ‘‘No. It’s not just
my
truth. It’s
the
truth. Jayce is a generous and loving man. He has worked hard to earn a good reputation, for which he’s had to fight equally hard to clear—thanks to you. I suppose that’s what bothers me the most,’’ Leah said thoughtfully. ‘‘For hating a man as much as you claim to hate Jayce, I can’t help but wonder why you would so clearly associate yourself with him. Associate yourself so much, in fact, that you take on his personality, his likes and dislikes, even come to Alaska. I think rather than hate Jayce, you truly esteem him—love him. I think you desire more than anything to be like him.’’

‘‘Hardly that,’’ Chase said, looking away. ‘‘I competed with Jayce all of my life. First for our parents’ affection and later our teachers’ attention. I have known nothing but misery from him, and frankly, it would not bother my conscience in the least if he were to meet with a terrible accident. An accident that ends his life.’’

Leah tried hard to keep the fear from her voice. ‘‘But that’s where I believe you’re wrong, Mr. Kincaid. I think that you’ll go forward in life only so long as Jayce goes forward. I think when you come face-to-face with the prospect of killing your twin, you won’t do it, because there is just too much of yourself in Jayce. It would be like killing yourself.’’

‘‘But we’re all killing ourselves in one way or another, Leah. So what if my standards are different from yours?’’

Leah shook her head. ‘‘You are wrong, Mr. Kincaid. I’m not killing myself. I’m trying hard to survive—no thanks to you.’’

Chapter Seven

L
eah found it impossible to know exactly where they were. She had tried her best to keep a mental picture of their trail—mapping the route in her mind as they continued north and east. To the best of her knowledge, Leah figured they had skirted Kotzebue Sound by some distance and now were moving into interior lands, away from the sea. The weather had calmed somewhat, but from the look of the skies overhead, Leah figured it would begin to snow most anytime.

The other thing that had her worried was the fact that winter had come rather early and hard. She was concerned that the bears would be desperately hunting for food to fatten themselves for winter. She saw signs of bear from time to time but said nothing. If Chase was as smart as he claimed to be, then he’d no doubt see the tracks and scat.

But more than the bears, Leah feared the natives. The tribes that lived farther inland were often warring with the coastal people. There were very few members on either side who would tolerate the others. Some had pacts and agreements that allowed for one or two specified people to come and trade goods, but this had been born out of desperation for foods and furs, not because of any great love between the nations. Now as she and Chase moved farther from the coast, Leah couldn’t help but wonder if there would be repercussions for this intrusion.

‘‘You do realize, don’t you,’’ Leah began as they readied to move out after a modest lunch, ‘‘that the tribe in this area isn’t very accommodating toward strangers.’’

‘‘I have friends in these parts,’’ Chase said, completely unconcerned. ‘‘I wouldn’t worry about it.’’

‘‘But I do.’’ Leah pointed to the sled and then to her own clothes. ‘‘They will clearly associate us—or at least me—with the coastal natives. There are many hostilities going on between some of these people. They may not realize you are friendly to their party until it’s too late.’’

‘‘By my calculations, we have less than two, maybe three hours to go. I’m telling you it isn’t a concern.’’

Leah shook her head. ‘‘We have two or three hours until we reach the others?’’

‘‘That’s right.’’

‘‘And what are your plans for us then?’’

He shrugged. ‘‘I’m not entirely sure. I have a place up north, but this was where I left Mrs. Beecham.’’

Leah frowned. ‘‘What of the others?’’