Northern Lights Trilogy (96 page)

May 1888

H
e had told her there was no singular Eskimo equivalent for the word “snow.” There were words for “snow spread out,” “old granulated snow,” “snow like salt,” “snow mixed with water,” and multiple other variations, but nothing for what the Norsks simply called “snø.” Kaatje glanced from the still-white banks of the Yukon River to her guide, James Walker, at the head of their riverboat, poling in tandem with his Indian friend, Kadachan, behind her. She shivered. She was glad that James knew this land like their native neighbors. It would be forever before Kaatje could get past the sheer, wild vastness of Alaska, let alone learn all the Eskimo derivations of “snow.”

They had settled well in Juneau. Tora and Trent. Christina and Jessica. Kaatje. With the Storm Roadhouse open in the burgeoning city of Juneau near the end of the Inside Passage, and another about to open in Ketchikan to house and feed the growing number of tourists, she felt at home at last. She was financially secure, and after years of waiting and wondering, it was time to put her husband, Soren, out of her mind forever. To bury him in her heart.

If he was indeed dead.

James glanced back at her, and when she met his gaze, he quickly looked away, nodding toward a tree full of bald eagles. Kaatje sensed
that she made James nervous. He didn’t understand her or her mad quest to find the philandering husband who had abandoned her. Trent Storm did not understand either, but as a friend he had helped her convince an obstinate James into taking her. Her thoughts drifted back to that day in Juneau when Trent had brought James to the roadhouse.

“Let me get this straight,” James had said, running an agitated hand through his golden brown hair. He reminded her some of Peder Ramstad. James paced back and forth, glancing from Trent to Kaatje. He directed his questions toward Trent. “You want me to take a…a woman into the Interior? Do you know what you ask of me? A third of the settlers there die within a year. A year. And you want me to take a
woman?
” He stared hard at Trent.

But James didn’t leave; he seemed intrigued. What drove his interest? Kaatje wondered. The unique challenge or the generous financial offer to see her through?

“We know what we ask,” Trent said, his face betraying his own doubts about what he asked. He had become an older brother figure to Kaatje, watching out for her and her girls as well as his fiancée, Tora. “Believe me, man, I know what we ask. I have gone through it all with Mrs. Janssen, time and again. She has to do this. For personal reasons.”

James turned to Kaatje. Tora Anders, beside her, squeezed her hand in encouragement as they faced the rugged mountain man. “You’ll have to tell me about those reasons,” he said firmly, hands on his hips. “Before I put my life on the line—as well as yours and my Indian guide—you’ll have to tell me.”

She met his gaze, recognizing that their eyes were a similar shade of green. “They are personal.”

“So is my life. Do you know that five miners were sent downriver last year, tied to a raft and their skin flayed open so the birds could peck at them all the way?”

“The miners must have done something to enrage the Indians. If it was the Indians. It is my understanding that most are friendly. We simply will pass through their land.”

“Most are fairly cooperative. Tolerant. I wouldn’t call them friendly. They only
put up
with our presence, for the most part. But sometimes they don’t.”

He was trying to scare her—she could tell. But hardly anything frightened her anymore. She had lived through too much to be afraid. It was as if this was her destiny: Finding Soren or his grave. It was her whole reason for bringing her daughters to Alaska.

“The Indians do not frighten you?”

“No.”

Kaatje noticed how his chapped, red cheeks made his eyes seem brighter, as if sparking. His full lips curled in derision. He was so sure he could talk her out of this! “What about the bears?” he continued. “There are grizzlies so big that they could tear your pretty head off your shoulders with one swipe.”

“Mr. Walker.” Trent warned, rising. Tora’s hand squeezed Kaatje’s again.

James held up a hand. “No. She needs to hear it. And she needs to be prepared for the dangers that wait for us—for her. This is no walk down the lane; this is survival. And if she isn’t up to the task, she’ll be putting all our lives at risk. If she intends to come along, she needs to know I won’t coddle her.” He leaned closer, daring Kaatje to look away. “If the bears don’t get you, Mrs. Janssen, there are mosquitoes the size of hummingbirds that will eat at you all day and won’t let you rest at night. To say nothing of the flies. And the gnats! They get so thick at times that you have no choice but to breathe in a whole mess of them! You’ll sweat all day on the trail and shiver all night from the cold. We’ll be walking for miles, each of us carrying a pack. That includes you. Kadachan and I can’t manage
your
rations as well as ours.” He looked her over from head to toe. “That’s seventy-five pounds of pack, Mrs. Janssen.”

“Mr. Walker!” Trent exclaimed, aghast at his lack of manners.

“No, Trent,” she said clearly. “It is all right. Mr. Walker wants to know what he is taking on.” She stood as tall as possible to reach every bit of her five feet six inches and stared at him, forcing James to take a step backward. “I understand the risks, Mr. Walker. I have lived here in Juneau for long enough to have heard every one of the horrible rumors about death and dismemberment that the miners spread. I understand that there are frightening things ahead of us, challenges we must face.” She took a step closer. “But you need to understand this, Mr. Walker. You have never met a more determined woman than I. I have left my homeland in Norway to come to America. I bore a child on the plains of Dakota and traveled on to the Washington Territory after my husband abandoned me. I have broken virgin ground to plant crops and carried buckets of water to nourish them. With
these
hands,” she said, raising them both to defy his incredulous look. “I have raised two children by myself, while finding a means to support us. I am not afraid of a hard task. Do you understand me?”

James looked unsettled at such revelations, as if he had assumed she was a society woman used to tea at four and a bed turned down by a maid at night. When Kaatje thought about it, though she still worked in running the roadhouse, she had become, in many ways, the woman he believed her to be. But down deep, she was still the same Kaatje who had shouldered too much pain to ever wither at the sight of danger or hard work again. She might not have been born strong, but life had made her fiercely resilient.

He crossed his arms and resumed his dubious expression. She had surprised him, but she had not yet won. “It will cost you a considerable amount. You are speaking of a journey of three…no, four months. We’ll need provisions. And cash. Items to barter if we need assistance or goods from the natives.”

“You will receive half before leaving,” Trent interjected. “And half when you bring Mrs. Janssen safely home.” He took a step forward,
eye to eye with the guide. “And understand that if you fail to bring her home safely, you will pay for it.”

“I don’t take kindly to threats, Mr. Storm.” James turned toward the door, clearly dismissing them and their insane proposition.

“No, wait!” Kaatje cried. She intercepted James and placed a hand on his forearm, thick and muscular beneath her fingertips. “Please. I must go. I must!” With her eyes she begged him to understand.

His eyes searched hers while he formulated his words. “Why? Why, woman, would you risk your life? Why would you leave your daughters to do this?” He dropped his tone. “Does the man owe you money? Why would you go to such great lengths to find a louse of a husband? Why not let him go? Divorce him. Heaven knows you have your reasons.”

“Please,” was all she said in response. “Please.” He was the best guide available. It had to be James Walker. She felt it in her bones.

“Why don’t you just send me and Kadachan? We’ll give you a full report—”

“No. I must do this. I must be there when you find him…or his grave.”

James looked over at Trent, desperation in his voice. “Tell her it’s crazy. Tell her that women just don’t enter the Interior unless they don’t care if they’ll come back.”

“I have,” Trent said, his voice resigned, miserable.

“Please,” she whispered again, still staring at James.

He brushed her hand from his forearm, as if her touch had suddenly burned him. “Be ready in two days. The ice has broken. Kadachan and I’ll go then.”

She nodded, unable to say anything more as the tears choked her.

“I’ll drop off a list of necessities by tomorrow.” Then James said to Trent, “I need to know everything you know about this…man, if I’m to find him.”

“We’ll see that you do.”

James paused as if wanting to say something more, then placed a well-worn, brown cowboy hat on his head, straightened the brim, and, after another long, searching look at Kaatje, left.

Trent stepped up behind her and put a supportive hand on her shoulder as she stared out the empty, open door of the roadhouse. “Are you sure, Kaatje? Are you sure this is what you must do?” Tora joined them and slipped her arm through Kaatje’s.

“I have never been more sure of anything in my life.” She did not look at her friends. “Trent, if I die, I’ll need you and Tora to take care of my girls.”

Trent paused. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, Kaatje. But you know if something did, we would.”

Tears again choked Kaatje. She ducked her head, whispering a “thank you” toward her friends and rushing up the stairs to her bedroom. She shut the door and dived onto her bed, giving in to the tears.

When they abated, she rolled on her back and wiped her face with a handkerchief. “Oh, Father in heaven,” she whispered. “I have sworn to Mr. Walker that I fear nothing. For years you have been taking me to this place, to this day. But if I am so sure that this is the way I am to go, why am I suddenly so, so overwhelmed at the task before me?”

Nearly a month had passed since that conversation, and her life had changed drastically. Kaatje’s attention jerked back to the present as a chunk of ice hit their riverboat broadside and pushed them. She bit her tongue, wanting to shout out, but the men had enough on their hands without screams from their troublesome cargo. The boat leaned left, threatening to capsize, and Kaatje instinctively leaned right with the men to counterbalance it. Their combined weight thrust them to the opposite side of the boat, tipping dangerously to the right. James let out a sound of intense exasperation. Kadachan remained silent. Miraculously the boat steadied, and with his pole Kadachan pushed the small iceberg away from the side, allowing them to resume their route upriver.

“I have told you,” James said, after several long, tense moments, “to do only what I tell you. I did not tell you to lean right.” “I was only trying—”

“Only what I tell you.” He never looked at her. In fact, Kaatje thought, in all the time they had been traveling, he looked at her only when absolutely necessary.

Kadachan said something softly in Tlingit to James, the sound low and guttural.

James looked about them and muttered something Kaatje couldn’t make out. They were canvassing their surroundings, and James had obviously seen the soft bank up ahead, just past the hundred yards of limestone cliffs that climbed thirty feet above them. Were they going to land for midday dinner? Kaatje hoped so. Not that she would tell James. Not after that last little lecture he’d given. She didn’t intend to ever speak to him again, after that rude display. Even if her stomach went on rumbling for hours.

Within ten minutes they reached the shore, the bow crunching against tiny rounded pebbles of whale gray and ivory white. James hopped out and hauled the boat more securely onto shore. There was a soft splash as Kadachan entered the water and helped him. As had become their habit, the men scouted up and down the riverbank while Kaatje untied the leather-wrapped provisions. She inwardly groaned at the thought of more jerky, dried fruit, and hardtack. What would it feel like to be eating hardtack after several months? Once in a while James took the time to fish with Kadachan, but that was rare. They were pushing hard, covering as many miles a day as they could. As it was, they would be hard-pressed to make it back to Juneau by autumn.