21

CHICAGO

The pen fell from between his teeth onto the desk. Jackpot.

Frank sat down hard and studied the papers in his hand. William Novak had a brother.

Clarence Novak. And according to his contact in Anchorage, Clarence was still in Alaska.

AKA Tony Griffin. Former bank manager at First National Bank of Chicago.

William and his wife, Suzanne, had been chosen as one of two hundred and three families for President Roosevelt’s now famous New Deal project—the Matanuska Colony Project. Right now, Clarence resided in a tent with his brother’s family. The perfect hiding place. Where no one would find him.

Except Frank Rhoads. Everyone else had given up on the case. But he hadn’t. He was a Pinkerton. And he didn’t fail.

He typed a memo to his boss, using all the notes from the case. Hunting and pecking with his index fingers didn’t go as fast as he wanted. Maybe one of these days he would learn how to type the real way. He jammed the pen back in between his teeth as he pulled the sheet of paper out of the barrel and checked for mistakes. As soon as his boss approved it, he’d head to Alaska. And one Clarence Novak—mastermind behind the First National Bank robbery—would be his.

It didn’t take much for Frank to pack. Most of the time, he kept a bag ready with everything he needed since he was on the road constantly. There was always some criminal waiting to be apprehended or a crime scene that needed review. One day Frank hoped to settle down. Have a family. But he couldn’t put anyone through the life that he lived now. Besides, when would he meet a woman to marry? On his next arrest? The thought made him chuckle.

He carried the bag back into his office. His boss wanted to see him one more time and discuss the plan before he left.

He picked up the phone’s earpiece and then stuck his pen in the zero slot on the rotary and slid it around.

“Operator—”

“Frank!” a man called from the door. “I’m so glad I caught you!” The familiar voice caused Frank to hang up on the poor operator.

“Howard, what are you doing down here?” He stuck out his hand.

“I need your help.” His old friend shook it.

“Anything.” Howard Vaughan had saved Frank’s life ten years ago on Lake Michigan. “You know it.”

“It’s my cousin.”

“The doctor? Sorry about that, Howie. When I read that in the papers, my heart broke for your family.”

Howard sat down and removed his hat. “That’s the thing. I’ve been appealing his case, and I had a hard time tracking him down. That’s where you come in.”

“Whatcha got?”

“I spoke with your boss this morning on the phone, and he told me you were about to go to Alaska—to the FDR colony in Matanuska. I finally had a letter catch up with me from Jeremiah. He’s there.” Howard handed over a picture. “The letter was posted months ago and must have gotten lost on its way. I need to get in touch with him, and I don’t want to send a letter and have it go astray. Since you’re heading there, I thought maybe you’d be willing to help me.”

“Well, I’ve got another case that’s first priority, but I’ll be glad to find Jeremiah as soon as it’s concluded.” Frank looked his friend in the eye. “You look plum worn out. Is it pretty serious?”

“Yes.” Howard nodded. “It’s urgent.”

MATANUSKA VALLEY

Very little sleep the past week was not helping her mood. Gwyn’s brain was muddled. Like a big bowl of mush. There’d been no time to talk to Jeremiah in more days than she’d counted. Everyone had to pitch in with harvest, canning, and building colonists’ homes. Only half of the families had moved in to a home with a solid roof over their heads, and way too many of the other homes weren’t even framed all the way. Cooler temperatures had arrived, and Gwyn was certain the snow would fly soon. Oh, they’d have plenty of time before the brutal cold arrived and stayed, but these first few signs were glaring reminders of all that was left to do.

The only consolation she’d had was a long chat with her father last night. They’d stayed up late eating sugar cookies Gwyn had made for the students celebrating their first full week of school. With all the new teachers finally in Alaska, they’d started their rounds to the camps and homes, giving homework and grading papers. The plan—at least until schools were built—was for the teachers to make it to each family once a week, assign work for the children, and then head back the next week for more lessons and to pick up the papers completed by the children. It was far from perfect, but it would have to do. A small cabin next to the community hall had been temporarily assigned to the teachers. Only one room, it would have to do until all the colonists’ homes were done.

Her father had mentioned Jeremiah last night and commented on what a wonderful doctor he had turned out to be. He spoke of the great love Jeremiah showed for the children, that he’d supplied them with new baseballs and bats for their games.

Gwyn had wanted to tell her father about her feelings, but she’d been hesitant to share too much. In her heart, she’d wanted to share everything. All her fears and innermost thoughts she shared only with the Lord. Something held her back from opening her heart to her father.

But Father knew. He didn’t push. He encouraged her to talk to Nasnana about it.

If she talked to Nasnana, would the woman who knew her almost as well as she knew herself look into her eyes and see the turmoil and confusion? The fear? The longing?

The . . . love?

There was no denying it any longer. Her strong feelings for Dr. Jeremiah Vaughan couldn’t be hidden or ignored.

But Gwyn didn’t know or understand what she was supposed to do or how she was supposed to do it. She didn’t have a textbook. She didn’t have an older sister. She didn’t even have a mother she could turn to for guidance.

While there were other native people nearby, Nasnana, Sadzi, and Father had been her only close companions for a great many years. There’d never been any secrets. Never anything she couldn’t share.

But this was different.

And Gwyn had no idea why.

Thoughts tormented her like buzzing flies. Now she wished her father hadn’t demanded she stay home from the hospital today. There was plenty to get done, but she’d gotten so used to staying busy around people that she feared her own thoughts and emotions.

Was love always so complicated, so painful? Lord, what do I do?

“Knock, knock!” Sadzi’s voice came through the window.

Gwyn ran to the door. “Come in!” She glanced down. “What are you up to?”

Sadzi held the handles of two large buckets in each hand. “I noticed you hadn’t had time to do any blueberry picking. I saw your father at the hospital, and he informed me you were home today. So . . . change your clothes. Let’s go before the bears eat them all.”

A giggle bubbled up to the surface. Just what she needed. “All right, give me two minutes.”

“I’ll give you one.”

“Ah!” Gwyn laughed all the way to her room, knowing her friend meant it. She flung off the dress she’d worn that morning, grabbed an old shirt of her father’s she used for gardening, and slipped it on. She could hear Sadzi counting outside.

“. . . twenty-one . . . twenty-two . . . twenty-three . . .”

Gwyn stepped into her overalls, snatched her leather gloves, and ran to the door.

“. . . forty-eight . . . forty-nine . . . fifty . . .” Sadzi looked down at Gwyn’s feet. “Uh, you might want shoes . . . fifty-one . . . fifty-two . . .”

Only Sadzi knew how to make her laugh this way. Thank you, Lord, for this friend. Gwyn grabbed two pairs of thick wool socks, yanked them on, and stuffed her feet into her rubber boots.

“Sixty!” Sadzi grimaced and laughed. “Well, you made it, but you look a fright. Look on the bright side—maybe you will scare the wildlife away.”

Gwyn looked down. One pant leg was stuffed into a boot; the other was half in and half out. The buttons on her shirt were buttoned crooked, and one shoulder of her overalls wasn’t hooked. “Easy now. I made it, didn’t I?” She held out her arms and twirled.

Their laughter filled the air outside as Gwyn shut the door and tried to adjust herself and keep up with Sadzi at the same time.

Trekking up the hill to their favorite blueberry gullies, they caught up on all the happenings around the valley.

Sadzi moved closer and bumped a bucket on Gwyn’s leg. “Grandmother wants you to know that she misses you.”

“I miss her too.” A long sigh escaped. “I know it hurt that she was accused of Gertrude’s murder, and I know she wants to give people space, but I wish she’d come out more often.”

“She’s getting old, Gwyn. Her heart longs to help more, but I think her body is slowing down.”

“If only Gertrude hadn’t stirred up all that mess to begin with. If only they could find out who killed her. If only . . .”

“All the if onlys in the world won’t change it.” Sadzi’s sad smile said it all.

Since sin entered God’s beautiful creation, there’d been prejudice and gossip. Gwyn couldn’t stop it. Neither could Sadzi. But Gwyn loved her friend’s spirit. Having given the colony several weeks after the initial confrontation, Sadzi dove right back in to help with anything and everything she could. If someone was uncomfortable around her, she slipped away to help elsewhere and didn’t force the issue.

“You’re right. Me and my worry. One of these days I’ll conquer it . . . with God’s help.”

Sadzi laughed. “I’ve known you since before I can even remember. You’ve always been a worrier. Always. Not that God can’t change that, but how many handkerchiefs alone have you destroyed?”

“Oh, don’t get me started. My father now gives me a new package of hankies every Christmas and every birthday.”

The path narrowed and Sadzi led the way. When they reached the top, she sidestepped her way down the steep gully. Gwyn knew the routine well. Every year growing up, they’d spend days in the late summer and fall picking berries. The best times were when they’d had plenty of rain. They’d climb to the top and work their way down the gully as they picked.

A comfortable silence settled over them as the first berries plunked into their buckets. Years of practice came back, and they picked up speed. It wouldn’t take them too long to fill the four ten-gallon buckets.

“So . . .” Sadzi picked with both hands and popped a blueberry into her mouth. “Are you going to tell me about how you’re madly in love with Jeremiah Vaughan, or do I need to make up my own story?”

The barking cough of his two-year-old patient woke Harold from his nap in the chair. The warmth of their makeshift steam tent must’ve put him to sleep. Swiping a hand down his face, he stood and went to the boy. Harold sat the child up and checked his lungs.

Croup was such a nasty illness for the little ones. Mothers hated to hear their children struggling to breathe, and Harold had never gotten used to it either. Thankfully, this was the first case in the colony, but they were approaching the season. How many nights would he spend in a chair like this over the next winter?

He smiled at the boy who looked up at him. The little guy patted his hand and went limp. Asleep in an instant after the awful coughing spasm.

Harold wouldn’t change a thing about his life. Other than the fact that he hadn’t spent enough time with Gwyn lately. How many days had it been since their chat over sugar cookies? He glanced up at the calendar on the wall. October was only two days away.

His mind drifted back to other years. Would he change anything? Even with Edith gone, he still knew that God was in charge, and this was where he was supposed to be.

Stretching his back and neck, he decided another little nap wouldn’t hurt. He’d check on the other patients in the hospital and take up residence by little Tim again.

Six other colonists and one carpenter took up the cots in the hospital that night. Thankfully, the numbers were down. Harold scribbled a few notes as he checked each one and found his chair back in the steamy curtained-off area.

The clunking of booted feet alerted him to someone else entering the hospital. Oh, he hoped it wasn’t another patient. He wanted the people to stay well. About to stand, Harold stopped with his hands on the arms of the chair when Jeremiah’s head poked through the curtain.

“Dr. H., mind if I join you?”

He leaned back. “Not at all, Jeremiah. Come on in. Pull up a chair.” Sleep could wait. The young doctor’s face was serious.

“Something bothering you, son?”

Jeremiah sat down, his hat smashed in his hands.

Harold chuckled. “You know. You’re as bad as Gwyn. When she’s got something on her mind or she’s worried about something, she’ll twist and fray her hankie to shreds.”

His words elicited a small smile but nothing more. Jeremiah stared down at the floor.

Harold had been around the block a few times. He knew what was on the young man’s mind. “Well, since I don’t want to use a scalpel to pry it out of you, I should probably tell you that I know the truth.”