Wastin’ your time, I tell you!” Mr. Abrams shouted across the river. Water sloshed over the edge of the pan he swirled. “Two grown men playing house—that’s what you are.”
“He’s a crazy old coot.” The log slid into the notch with a solid thud. Tucker tacked on, “Nosy, too.”
“A smokehouse, and now a cabin?” Abrams tutted loudly. “Next thing, it’ll be a privy and a summer kitchen.” The old man cackled as if he’d told a hilarious joke. “Yep. A summer kitchen. Because summers here are so long and hot!”
Ian shot Tucker a quick look. “A privy. I didn’t think—”
“Chamber pot works fine.”
Ian nodded curtly.
Abrams’s cackling laugh drifted on the wind. “You’ll still be roofin’ that place when I move back to Seattle and live off my gold.”
“Pay him no heed. He talks just to keep himself company.”
Ian chuckled softly. “Had the Lord not blessed me with fine new neighbors, I might well have developed that same habit myself in a few years. As I’ve both a brother and a sister, I’m accustomed to being teased. As long as he’s not holding that rifle of his, Abrams is harmless.” He and Tucker lifted the next log and dropped it into place.
“His motto is ‘Shoot all trespassers.’”
“I found that out firsthand. Tell me, how good of a shot is he?”
“He’s as good a marksman as I am a plowboy.”
“Speaking of which—”
“We’re making good time on this.” Tucker kicked a small chunk of wood out of the way and pretended Ian hadn’t interrupted.
“Thanks to your help. But our deal was—”
“Ian, the ground was frozen solid. It would have taken dynamite, not a plow, to turn over the soil. The ground is still hard as rock. Give it another day or so.”
Meredith ventured over. “Lunch is ready.”
“It smells wonderful. Your brother and I’ve worked up an appetite.”
As they finished eating, Meredith gave Tucker a tentative look. “Did you ask him?”
Tucker’s face puckered as he thought for a moment.
“The laundry,” Meredith reminded him softly. A fetching blush tinted her cheeks.
“Oh. Forgot about it.” He turned to Ian. “Sis is doing laundry this afternoon. You’re welcome to toss whatever you have in the wash pot.”
Ian opened his mouth to accept, but Meredith’s blush changed his mind. “Thank you for the kind offer, but I’ll do my own.”
“The wash pot will already be boiling,” Tucker pointed out.
“Aye, it will.” Ian smiled at Meredith. “And I’ll thank you not to dump out the suds. Once you’re done, I’ll see to my own wash.”
“Hey! Wily!” Abrams shouted.
“Where is he?” Meredith tilted her head.
“There. Rounding the river bend,” Tucker responded.
Meredith’s brow puckered. “Of course Wily is coming on the river. But where is Mr. Abrams?”
“Did you come to your senses?” Abrams hollered to Wily, who paddled his odd-looking boat closer. “I ain’t choosy—beer, whiskey, vodka—”
Ian didn’t bother to hide the astonishment in his voice. “Abrams is up in that red alder. The lowest branch.”
Laughter bubbled out of Meredith.
Wily squinted toward Abrams’s claim. “You’re going to break your neck, you old fool.”
“It’ll be your fault for not bringin’ me likker. I have to hang upside down to straighten out my spine bone.”
“Men who drink spirits don’t have a backbone,” Wily shot back. He nodded his thanks as Ian reached out, took a rope, and tied the boat to shore. A young man jumped from the other end of the boat and tied it as well.
True to his threat, Mr. Abrams dangled by his knees from the branch.
Tucker’s voice went wry. “Ian, don’t reach for your bow and arrows. That’s not a giant possum. That’s just a crazy old coot.”
“I ain’t crazy. My back’s painin’ me, and since I don’t have any medicinal spirits, I gotta resort to this.”
“I’ll make you a willow-bark tea.”
“Won’t help, Meredith.” Abrams continued to hang there. “Standin’ knee-deep in that icy water’s gonna cripple me. I need a good belt of Oh-Be-Joyful every hour or so to keep my innards warm enough.”
“This is my nephew, Joe.” Wily gestured toward the young man. “He’s normally on a trawler, but this load was too heavy for me to move alone.”
“Thankful for your help.” Ian shook Joe’s hand, then grabbed the first bundle from Wily.
Tucker and Meredith stood on the bank and stared at him.
“Meredith, how’s about you taking the list I have here and checking everything off so Mr. Rafferty knows I brought everything?”
“Why, yes. Of course I will.”
“Sis doesn’t need to check a list.” Tucker stepped forward. “You brought half a mercantile.”
“The wrong half!” Abrams shouted. “It wouldn’t have hurt to bring along a few bottles.”
“One more thing and the boat would have sunk.” Tucker tromped toward Ian’s claim.
Meredith accepted the list. “The flour and sugar are obvious, but how do you know what’s in the crates?”
“I have them numbered.”
Wily scratched his nose. “Didn’t imagine you’d already have a cabin goin’ up. We can just pass everything in so you don’t have to move it again.”
With four men unloading the supplies, things went smoothly. Joe elbowed Tucker. “Those stampeders walking the Chilkoot Trail are idiots. They have to carry caches, backtrack, and carry in more. Canada won’t let ’em in without a ton of supplies.”
“He’s not exaggerating. Canadians demand a full ton. Nothing less, or the prospectors will starve.” Wily thumped down a sack of cornmeal. “Might take you longer to coax as much gold from the ground here, but you’ll still be alive.”
Ian hefted another sack. “Tucker, since Meredith is cooking for us, it’s stupid to keep all of this at my place. Let’s take a bag each of flour, cornmeal, sugar, and beans over to your cabin.”
Meredith ran her hand over a sack of flour. “Tucker, when you go to Goose Chase, try to buy flour in this sack if you can. It’s pretty.”
“Rafferty came up here with his supplies.” Joe trudged past with a washtub full of sundry items. “Socks doesn’t have anything like that.”
A look of disappointment flickered across her features, but if Ian hadn’t been facing her, he knew he wouldn’t have seen it. She shoved a pin back into her bun to keep it anchored. “I suppose I ought to be thankful Socks has flour at all!”
Ian decided he’d give Meredith the sacks—but he’d wait until he could “bargain” with her so she wouldn’t feel as if he was treating her like a charity case. He gave her a quizzical look. “Socks?”
“The owner of the mercantile in town.” She smiled at him—a warmhearted smile that proved she’d already set aside her disappointment. “Rumor has it that he was so cold his first winter up here, he unraveled a pair of socks and knit them into a hat.”
“He knit something himself?” Ian couldn’t imagine a man fiddling with yarn and knitting needles.
“It’s a fact, not a rumor.” Wily shook his head. “Never saw a man more proud of himself. He wouldn’t take off that hat. Come summer, Socks finally peeled off the ugly thing. He’d gone bald as an egg. We tease him and say he ought to have washed the socks before he made them into a hat.”
“He couldn’t afford his own soap to wash ’em. Prices on everything are sky high.” Joe shook his head. “The trawler I work—the captain said he’ll keep us in coffee, but we have to drink it black now because sugar is twenty-five cents a pound.”
Meredith gasped.
Joe nodded. “Yep. And it’s fifty cents for one can of condensed milk.”
The strained grooves bracketing Tucker’s mouth told Ian the Smiths hadn’t mined enough gold to buy supplies at those outrageous rates. He’d read about the inflated prices and hedged against that eventuality by paying shipping for his provender.
“Good thing you’re such a fisherman.” Ian slapped Tucker on the back. “I haven’t hunted yet because everything is scrawny in the springtime. Come autumn, I’ll see about bagging a mountain sheep or two, some pheasant, and plump hares.”
“With all of that and our garden, we’ll be well set.” Meredith nodded.
“Garden?” Perplexed lines carved Wily’s face.
“Aye.” Ian gestured toward the area behind the smokehouse. “I’ll be plowing that field in the next few days. Meredith and I are planning to sow a bounty of vegetables.”
“My ma lives in Skaguay. She roped me into helping her plant every year.” Joe shrugged. “Now all I do is take fish heads and guts home to her. She claims it makes everything grow better.”
“Aye, and she’s right.” Ian nodded. “Fish enrich the soil.”
Meredith tugged on Tucker’s sleeve. “All the more reason to give thanks that you’re such a good fisherman.”
“Didn’t realize the fishing around here is so good.” Wily gazed at the river.
“I don’t have to be back until Friday, Uncle, but I pull in nets of fish every day. Don’t expect me to join you.” Joe cast a glance at the partially built cabin. “Don’t mean to sound boastful, but the fact is, I’m good with an ax. I’ve won contests. Trees don’t stand a chance around me.”
A sick feeling hit the bottom of Ian’s stomach. He hated admitting how little money he had left. “I, ah…don’t know what the going rate—”
Joe reared back. “I’m offering my help. I don’t want to be paid. This is Alaska. We help our neighbors!”
“I meant no offense, and I’ll gladly accept your help.”
Wily cocked his head to the side. “It’s past noontime. Dawn’s the best time to fish. Those are some nice, straight logs over yonder. I could split them—maybe even get a few planks for you.”
Thrilled by that offer, Ian seized it. “We promised Meredith a plank floor for her cabin.”
Meredith blinked and then shook her head emphatically. “Getting a roof over your head is far more important.”
“Those logs are from your property.” Tucker scowled at him.
Ian shrugged. “So you’ll trade me for some from yours.”
Meredith started to back away. “Oh no! Wily, Joe—run quick! Once Tucker and Ian start bargaining, they don’t stop.”
“I tell you what.” Ian grinned. “We’ll just leave that as the only swap as long as you agree to cook for Wily and Joe, too.”
“Of course I’ll cook for them. What kind of hostess do you think I am?”
Ian didn’t hesitate for a single second. “The grandest in all of Alaska.”
“That’s not saying much.” She arched a brow. “There are probably all of ten women in the whole region.”
“Other women heard of your gracious talent and stayed away because they couldn’t bear the thought of falling short of your example.”
“That proves it.” She turned to Tucker. “You said he’s a Scot, but he’s not. Only an Irishman would be so full of blarney.”
“You thought I’m a Scot?” Ian growled at Tucker. “That’s nearly as bad as the insult your sister just gave me.”
“Scots are good men.” Tucker sounded downright bored. “What insult?”
“Scots might well be good, but Irishmen are grand. ’Tis no more a boast than Joe’s telling us he’s capable with an ax.” Ian turned his attention back to Meredith. “But I’ll not stand here and have you consider my praise as bluster or blarney. With your merry heart and willing hands, you’re a rare woman. ’Tisn’t the fare or china on the table that makes a body feel welcome. Like the proverb in the Bible, I’d far rather have a humble meal of herbs with pleasant company than a feast where there’s strife.”
“I agree.” Wily clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “But we’ll see about adding a plank floor to that cabin. Where are the tools?”
Ian grabbed a couple of axes and headed toward the woods with Joe. Joe tested the weight of one ax and mused, “Meredith Smith is a spirited woman.”
“Indeed, she is.”
“I’ve only seen her once before. She’s certainly worth a second look.”
Ian locked eyes with Joe. “She’s adventurous and friendly, but Meredith Smith is every inch a lady.”
A lazy smile tilted one corner of Joe’s mouth. “I wondered if you were taken with her. Can’t blame you.” His ax bit into a tree trunk.
Ian paced to the other side of the tree and started swinging the other ax. Until now, he’d focused on the tasks at hand. Suddenly, the truth struck him. He’d come on the journey of his life and found a woman whose sense of adventure matched his own. From times of prayer and Bible reading, he knew she loved the Lord. With each blow of his ax, he listed her qualities—her virtuous ways, her kind heart, her warm smile, the sunny outlook she maintained—
“Hey!”
Ian gave Joe a startled look.
“Step aside. This one’s ready to go.”
Ian joined Joe on the other side of the trunk. “Timber!” he bellowed. Then they nudged the trunk above where they’d chopped. Branches rustled, air whistled through the limbs, and the last bit of the trunk cracked as the tree plunged down.
“That one fell hard and fast.”
Ian nodded as he continued to think of Meredith. So did I.