Where Heaven Begins

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Elizabeth frowned. Nine-thirty? “But…it was later than that when I fell overboard.”

“Yup.” Clint sneezed before continuing. “About twenty-two hours ago.”

“What! You mean it’s the next day?”

“Yes, ma’am. You’ve had a right good sleep.”

Astounded, Elizabeth put her hand to her mouth. “I don’t believe it!”

Clint stretched, sneezed again, excused himself. “Well, it’s true. We’ve been stranded here since the accident. They’re hoping to load some of the passengers onto the next ship that comes by, then more on the next and so forth, till we’re all off and on our way to Skagway. We ought to be able to get off later today and make Skagway by tomorrow morning.”

Elizabeth rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling. “Oh, I’m so embarrassed, and so sorry! Where on earth did you sleep last night?”

“Outside under the stars. Doesn’t bother me much. I’ve spent plenty of nights sleeping on the hard ground with a saddle for a pillow. I just now came in to get warm.”

Elizabeth struggled to untangle her thoughts. She pulled the blankets clear up to her nose. “This is terrible. I’m so sorry, and so embarrassed.”

“You already said that, and I have no idea why you think that way.”

“But I’ve put you out…and what must the other men think, me sleeping here in your cabin.”

He sneezed yet again, then cleared his throat. “They can think what they want. Besides, most of them are only concerned with how soon they can get on another ship and get themselves to Skagway. They’re all pretty upset that they’ve had a setback, all anxious to get to their gold. I can tell you right now that most of them won’t find any. I can think of a lot of ways to make good money a lot faster and with less discomfort.”

By killing wanted men? She wanted to ask.

Clint leaned forward and rubbed at the back of his neck, squinting slightly as though in pain. Then he sneezed again.

“Are you catching a cold, Mr. Brady?”

He reached toward a saddle bag and pulled out a handkerchief. “I’ll be all right.”

She watched him quietly a moment. “You could get very sick, after what you did yesterday. Those men and I owe you a lot, me especially. That’s the second time you’ve helped me.” Her throat swelled with a sudden urge to cry. “I was so sure I was going to die. How can I ever, ever thank you enough?”

He shrugged. “I just reacted. I used to be a pretty good swimmer.” He leaned his head back against the wall.

“I think I remember you saying something about Lake Michigan to someone. Is that where you learned to swim?”

He waited a moment to answer. “I was a kid,” he finally told her. “I grew up near Chicago. Then my folks got tired of city life and moved to Nebraska to farm. My mother died when I was seventeen, my father the next year, which left me on my own. I didn’t much like the humidity and the mosquitoes in that part of the country, so I headed for California. I’d heard others talk about how nice it was there.”

Elizabeth listened to the sound of heated wood snapping and popping in the stove. It relaxed her. “My parents came west from Illinois, too, only farther south from Chicago. I never got to see the Great Lakes. Are they as big and beautiful as I’ve heard?”

He drew a deep breath. “From what I can remember. It’s been years. I do remember that Lake Michigan was so big that you couldn’t see the other side of it. Big ships, much bigger than this steamer, would dock in Chicago, bringing goods from practically all over the world, mostly from Europe and, of course, from places like Boston and New York City.” He rubbed at his eyes. “But that was a long time ago. Chicago is probably all changed and a heck of a lot bigger by now.”

“I’m sorry about your parents. It must have been hard for you. It sounds like you had no brothers or sisters.”

“Neither one.” The air hung quiet for a moment. “I still miss them sometimes. They were good Christian people.” He sneezed again and kept rubbing at his eyes.

Elizabeth was surprised at his reference to “good Christian people.” This man apparently had had a Christian upbringing. What on earth had turned him to the life he led now? Youthful curiosity left her dying to ask, but good manners meant not prying into other people’s business, especially not a man she suspected gave such information only when good and ready.

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well,” she told him. “If you will leave for a while I’ll get dressed, you can have your bed back.” Privately she thought how wonderful it would feel to stay in the bed all day. “And again I’m sorry to take it from you for so long. I must have been far more exhausted than I thought. All the time I’ve been on this boat I’ve barely slept for all the noise and stench below, and worrying about someone trying to rob me. And then nearly drowning yesterday…” Again she remembered her mother calling to her. “My mother’s sweet spirit must be very strong.”

Clint frowned. “What do you mean?”

Elizabeth turned on her side and curled up. “She called to me. She’s the reason you jumped into the water, you know…my mother…and God.”

He grunted a laugh. “They were, were they?”

“I’m serious, Mr. Brady. They used you to help me.”

He simply chuckled wryly and shook his head.

“You don’t believe in the spirits of dead loved ones being able to reach out to you?”

He took several long seconds to answer. “Maybe…sometimes.” Again he sneezed. He took a moment to blow his nose. “I’m surprised you believe in such things. Isn’t it anti-Christian to believe in spirits?”

“Oh, on the contrary. For one thing, we don’t really die anyway, not those who truly have loved and served God. We just travel heaven’s pathway to a beautiful home filled with peace and flowers and the glory of God. I like to believe that since our spirits simply take on a new form and live on with God, He allows us to hover close to our loved ones still living on earth and to help them however we can. God surely has enough to do. I believe He uses our spirits to help Him with His constant vigil to protect and love His children on earth.”

He shook his head again, grunting a little as he stood up and stretched. “Well, I don’t see where He does a very good job of protecting those still on earth. And me managing to find you like I did was just a quirk—nothing special.”

She smiled softly. “You don’t really believe that. The other men you helped were thrashing and yelling, easier to find. But me, I was sinking far below the surface, yet you found me. No one could ever convince me that God and my mother didn’t have something to do with that.”

Clint rummaged in one of his own carpet bags and pulled out yet another clean shirt. He began unbuttoning the one he wore, and Elizabeth’s eyes widened when she realized he was going to take it off in front of her! Other than black men working on the wharf in San Francisco, she’d never seen a man with his shirt off! She pulled the blankets over her head. “Mr. Brady!”

“What?”

“Couldn’t you wait until I’m gone to change your shirt?”

This time his light laughter sounded genuine. “You’ve never seen a man with his shirt off?”

“Of course not!”

“Not even your father or your brother?”

“Heavens no!”

Elizabeth heard the soft rustle of clothes. “Lady, your situation is even worse than I thought.”

Elizabeth waited, refusing to uncover her eyes.

“You can look now,” he finally told her.

Slowly she pulled the covers away to see him wearing a shirt and a leather vest. He was leaning over pulling on socks and boots.

“I think these boots have dried out,” he told her as he finished dressing. “By the way, in case you didn’t notice, I brought your things up from below, and I laid your wet clothes around the room to dry out.” He sneezed again. “I’ll leave for a while and you can dress and go to the kitchen and get something to eat, such as it is. At least you can get some hot coffee. You might as well pack up as best you can and be prepared to leave the ship later today. Next stop is Skagway. It’s a good thing you got some rest. You’ll need it when you reach that town. Rough and lawless, they say.” He straightened. “Did your money survive?”

“Yes, it’s under your mattress.”

He grinned and shook his head again. “Don’t tell me you thought I’d steal it.”

“Well, I…I just wasn’t sure where to put it.”

He chuckled. “Just make sure you stuff it back into your camisole.” He winked. “Where it’s dang sure safe.”

He walked out the door, and Elizabeth wanted to crawl through the cracks in the floors and disappear. She looked around the room to see that Clint had indeed hung her clothes all about the cabin to dry—including her camisole, under slips and drawers!

She closed her eyes in humiliation.

Chapter Eleven

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: Now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

—1 Corinthians 13:12

Skagway, August 20, 1898

Clint could see the outline of Skagway in the distance, visible only because of smoke and steam from the stacks of other steamers docked there. The crew of the Damsel had managed to keep the steamer’s leak in check enough to bring the ship into the “jumping-off” town with the help of a tugboat sent from there. That meant that everyone on board the Damsel could stay there and be towed in, much to the chagrin of some who were bent on getting to the town a day sooner.

Clint wouldn’t have minded if not for the fact that waiting the extra day had meant letting Elizabeth Breckenridge sleep in his cabin one more night. Try as he might, he couldn’t get the picture of her in his bed out of his mind.

If ever his resolve to resist temptation had been tested to the limit, the last two nights had been it. He’d managed until now not to think about how long it had been since he’d been with a woman. After Jenny was killed, all desire for any other woman in his life had left him. After a matter of time, he’d not even cared about being with easy women, let alone giving one thought to truly having feelings for any woman ever again.

So why had Elizabeth Breckenridge changed all that? It made him so angry he could spit. This was never supposed to happen to him again. For one thing, it was dangerous to care. That meant risking having his heart shattered yet again, and it wasn’t even mended from the first disaster. Besides that, he was full of too much hatred and anger to find room for caring about anyone. He hadn’t even cared about himself for the past four years. How many times had he wished that in pursuit of a criminal he’d get shot and killed so the pain in his heart would go away forever? Then he could be with Jenny…and little Ethan.

There came the sharp pain again, so real that it made him grasp the rail and bend over. For months now he’d managed to stop thinking about his son altogether. Maybe, just maybe, he could have gotten over Jenny, if only he still had his little boy…his sweet, innocent, joyful little blue-eyed, blond-haired son named after his daddy. From the day he’d had to look at that beautiful child lying dead he’d never again used his real first name, because every time someone would call him Ethan he’d think about that baby. He used only his middle name now. That helped some.

A hard sneeze brought him out of the pain of the past long enough to remember how lousy he felt today. This was the worst cold he’d ever experienced, and it hadn’t helped sleeping on the deck last night. It had rained, as it seemed to do several times a day in this place, but at night it was a cold rain that went to the bone. He’d covered himself with a tarp, but the dampness had enveloped him anyway. Every bone and muscle in his body ached. It hurt to breathe, hurt even more to cough, hurt to look at bright light, hurt to move at all.

As soon as he reached Skagway he hoped to find one available hotel room where he could stay in bed for a day or two before heading into God-knew-what in his effort to reach Dawson. He could only hope that the holdup wouldn’t mean missing his chance to corral Roland Fisher. If he somehow heard Clint was after him, he might slip away.

Life sure had taken a strange turn since he’d first tackled the man who stole Elizabeth’s handbag. Something about this whole trip just didn’t seem right, kind of like he suddenly was not in full control of his life. Elizabeth weighed on his mind like an anvil, and try as he might, he couldn’t keep from feeling like he should watch out for her. He thought he’d be glad to reach Skagway, where he could let her go her own way. If that meant she’d really be dumb enough to try to reach Dawson this late in the year, then so be it. And yet the thought of it drove him nuts. How could he let her try to do that alone? Stupid as the idea was, he had to admire her gumption…and her unending faith that God would help her.

At the same time, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for her having that faith. God would find a way to shatter it, just as his own faith had been shattered. Fact was, he hadn’t even given much thought to God for the past four years, until Miss High-and-Mighty-Holy-Roller had come along, constantly throwing God in his face. There again, he had no control over having to listen to her rhetoric about God and Jesus and prayer and all that bunk. That’s what made it so senseless to think about helping her get to Dawson, which was exactly what he’d been thinking about doing…probably the worst decision he could possibly make.

Another sneeze. Could a man feel any worse than this without being dead?

“Clint?”

Someone touched his arm. Naturally it was Elizabeth.

“You’re even sicker, aren’t you? I’m so sorry you had to sleep on the deck last night. I told you I’d gladly go back below.”

He sneezed again, which only increased his irritation with her and then enhanced his anger with himself for being irritated with her, because the way he was feeling inside wasn’t her fault. It was his own. Still, that didn’t stop his sharp retort. “I wish you’d stop bringing it up. I told you that you could have the bed and that’s that.” He sneezed, and she leaned closer to study him as he blew his sore nose.

“Oh, you poor man. You look awful!”

“Gee, thanks.” He coughed, his chest so sore that he hadn’t even craved a cigarette.

“I hope you will see a doctor when we reach Skagway.”

“I don’t need one. I just need a day or two of rest. I’ll be fine.”

“I wish there was something I could do. You’ve done so much for me.”

“I’ll get over it.”

“Well, I think you should definitely see a doctor.”

“Will you just leave it alone? I’ll be all right.” He knew she was right about one thing. He must look terrible. He kept his handkerchief over his nose so she couldn’t see how red it was. He leaned over the railing again, looking away from her as the outline of Skagway came ever closer. Other men on deck were getting excited, some whooping and hollering at the sight of their jumping-off point. He heard Elizabeth take a deep breath, for courage, he suspected.

“I guess this is it,” she told him. “I hope you stay in Skagway and rest up a bit before you go on, and I will pray for your health and for a safe trip.”

“Pray for yourself. You’re the one who will need help, not me.”

Another sigh. “If you are so adamant that it was all right that I use your cabin again last night, Mr. Brady, then please stop being so angry and making me feel so guilty about it.”

How he wished that she would just magically drop out of his life. “Sorry. I just feel rotten, that’s all.” He sneezed again. “I am not in the mood for small talk.” He blew his nose and finally looked at her again. She looked as pretty as ever, and it irked him that he’d taken a cold and she seemed to be just fine. Wasn’t the man supposed to be the stronger one? How humiliating! He hated showing any kind of weakness.

“Well, then, I’m sorry I bothered you,” she answered, looking almost ready to cry. “I just wanted to let you know that I have everything out of your cabin. Once we reach Skagway we might not see each other again, so I just…I truly, truly am grateful, Mr. Brady, for everything you’ve done for me, and for being so kind as to let me have your cabin the last two nights. You’re a good man at heart. Anyone can see that. I will pray that whatever is eating you up on the inside, God will bless you with a way to overcome the pain and be happy again. And I pray that you will be able to stop doing what you do for money. God will forgive you, you know, because only He understands why you do it. I just wanted to tell you that He loves you and—”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Thank you, but save the sermon. I hope the best for you, too. And I still advise you to get yourself a handgun, and be very, very careful who you trust. Find someone to travel with, preferably a man who is taking his wife along so you’ll be with another woman.” He sneezed. “Good luck, Elizabeth. You’ll need it,” he said as he moved away.

The Damsel let off three loud whistles then, as the tugboat hauled her even closer. Skagway was very visible now, and her docks were crowded with men who’d just disembarked from another steamer that had arrived ahead of them. The men on the Damsel began getting even more excited, shouting about gold and land and women and whiskey and dogs and horses and sleds and the best route to take for Dawson. They pushed and shoved to get a better look, some of them forcing Elizabeth away from the railing.

Clint looked back to see her watching him with tears in her eyes. She had to be scared to death. He turned away. She’d made her decision. He had his own agenda.

Chapter Twelve

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul…I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me.

—Psalms 23:1-4

It was all Elizabeth could do to hang on to her bags, there was so much pushing and shoving to get off the Damsel. Most of those who pushed their way past her seemed hardly aware she existed. The day had turned sunny and warm, but because of the constant spurts of rain, she stepped into mud as soon as her feet hit land.

She had no choice but to follow the crowd and walk past a literal town of tents on the beach, her shoes sinking into the damp sand. Men and dogs and supplies were absolutely everywhere. Stove chimneys stuck up through the tops of the tents. Stacks of barrels of flour and crates of canned goods were piled so high it appeared they would surely topple. Some of the men literally ran toward Skagway’s main street, and she had no choice but to go with the flow or be knocked over.

The throng shoved her into the main, muddy street, through slop and horse manure. After a desperate search to get out of the way, she finally spotted an opening to her left that brought her to a boardwalk and directly in front of swinging doors. From the other side she could hear a piano playing, men shouting and women laughing. The smell of whiskey and smoke permeated her nostrils, and she quickly moved away from the doorway. She couldn’t help peeking through a window, and her eyes widened at the sight of women dancing on a platform, lifting colorful ruffled skirts to show their legs.

She turned away, feeling guilty for looking in the first place. Still, the sight made her wonder about Collette and her friends. She hoped Francine was all right.

She shook away the thought and hurried on, facing the fact that for the time being she had to look out for herself and not worry about others, including Clint Brady. He’d said something to her yesterday about having to locate three horses he’d sent ahead. He’d been worried about someone making off with his horses, as he’d heard the animals were worth plenty in Skagway. Most men arrived here without them and had to pack their own gear over the passes, which meant constantly backtracking all the way over the passes as the gear often weighed hundreds, even thousands of pounds. Word was, many never even made it over the passes to begin with.

Elizabeth had decided that would not be a problem for her, as all she intended to take were her bags. She would visit the sawmill and see if perhaps someone there could build her a sled that she could attach to her waist and use to pull her bags and however much food she would have to bring along. That would probably take whatever money she had left, but she certainly wouldn’t need any more money before reaching Dawson. Once she was with Peter, she’d be safe and never alone again. Whatever Peter did, wherever he went, she would stay with her brother. She couldn’t wait to see him.

Yes, that’s what she would concentrate on. She would forget about those poor, lost women, forget about Clint Brady, forget about her own fear of the journey ahead. Collette and her friends were likely not at all concerned with what had happened to her, and Clint Brady had brushed her off like a pesky fly. Why should she care that the man was sick and lonely and wayward? Her attempted words of comfort had only angered him, and he obviously did not want her bothering him any more. So be it.