"Dawns Prelude" - читать интересную книгу автора (Peterson Tracie)

Chapter 11

Gerald Lytle looked at the substantial amount of cash offered him and drew a deep breath. Marston Gray knew the man needed the money Needed it desperately to offset gambling debts he'd incurred just the week before.

"You don't plan any harm to come to her?" Lytle asked, clearly considering what Marston wanted.

"Of course not, you fool. I'm a gentleman, not a killer. I merely wish to thank her for her generosity to my family and apologize for the way she was treated. I tried approaching Robinson, but he seems to think we are all associated with our father's actions against Lydia."

"She was terribly mistreated," Gerald agreed.

Marston said nothing hut nodded as if in agreement. "Rest assured, I only desire to communicate my appreciation and to know that she is truly all right. She might not feel that correspondence from me is necessary, but for my own peace of mind, it is."

"Perhaps you could pen the letter and I could mail it for you," Gerald suggested. "That way you could accomplish your desires, and I wouldn't betray any confidences."

Marston shook his head. "No. I think it would be best to do it just as I've described. I want access to the files to her correspondence with Mr. Robinson. I want assurance that she's not being cheated in any way."

The man frowned. But Mr. Robinson's reputation is irrefutable.

"Men are still fallible-even Mr. Robinson." Marston held the money higher. "So, do we have a deal or not?" He started to put the money back in his pocket, but Lytle reached out to stop him.

"Very well. I'll leave the hack door to the office open tonight. If you want to review the correspondence, I'll see to it that it's placed in the center of Mr. Robinson's desk. Write down the information if you need to, but remove nothing." He took the money and stared at it for a moment. "Nothing is to be otherwise disturbed."

Marston nodded and drew out a cigar. "I'll make sure my man understands."

"What do you mean? Won't you be the one to review the materials?"

A thin smile edged Marston's lips. He clipped the end of the cigar and shook his head. That would hardly be prudent. Should I he found by some overly observant policeman, it would be hard to explain my presence. However, if my man is caught, he can plead guilty to petty thievery, and no one will be the wiser."

Lytle swallowed hard. "I see."

The man slipped away as Marston lit his cigar. He was satisfied with the turn of events; now he would simply have to get the right man for the job.

Sitka 's size made it impossible to keep secrets. Kjell had learned this early on, and today proved to be no exception. Twice now he'd heard talk that the Sidorov brothers had never left the area. He wondered if this could possibly be true, but he felt he had no time to devote to investigation. He had settled his differences with his customers over the summer, and everything had returned to normal. If the Sidorovs were still in the area, Kjell wasn't exactly sure what he would do. To charge them now seemed futile, and since they were no longer a threat to him or his business, Kjell couldn't see holding a grudge.

"What chores are you seeing to on this dismal day?"

Kjell looked up to find Zerelda Rockford standing directly in front of him. He hadn't been watching where he was going and nearly walked right into her. "Sorry, Zee. I didn't mean to be so caught up in my own thoughts. How are you?"

"I'm doing well. And you?"

This question caused Kjell to think of yet another rumor he'd heard. He wanted to know the truth of the matter and had never known Zee to be uncomfortable with his questions. "I wonder if we can talk?" he asked.

°I have time. Where would you like to go?" Zerelda shifted a basket of goods from one arm to the other. "I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee."

"Sounds good. I'll buy" Kjell took her basket and pointed the way to the Russian Teahouse.

The small yellow house held a charm all its own. Several tables were set up in what must have once been the main living area. Kjell knew the Putshukoff family who owned the place. They kept the business on the ground floor and lived upstairs.

Mrs. Putshukoff greeted them with her usual enthusiasm. "Kjell, Zcrelda, it's good to see you. Come and sit. I have fresh rasstegai.,,

Kjcll grinned and gave his stomach a rub. With minced meat?

"Of course," the stocky woman replied with a beaming smile.

Once they were seated and served some of the minced pies to go along with their coffee, Kjell cleared his throat. "I hope this doesn't seem out of place, Zee. I don't want to overstep my hounds, but… well, you know me."

She nodded. "I do, and I've never known you to walk around a subject as wide as you're taking this one."

He chuckled. "Well, it has to do with Lydia."

Her eyes fairly danced with amusement. "Now, why am I not surprised? What is it you want to know?"

"I've heard rumors," he began. "Being I don't much care for such things, I figured to speak directly with someone who would know the truth."

Zcrelda sipped her coffee, making no attempt to comment or acknowledge his statement. Kjell shifted nervously and toyed with the handle of his mug. "Fact of the matter is, I care about you two and feel that I need to keep an eye out for you."

This made Zerelda smile. "Goodness, man, just get to the heart of your question."

Kjell nodded and leaned forward. "I've heard talk that Lydia is… that she's…" He couldn't bring himself to say it.

"With child?" Zee whispered.

He sighed and felt a weight taken off his shoulders. "Yes."

"It's true. Lydia is carrying her dead husband's child. Should be horn around Christmas."

Kjell frowned. "Is she… well?"

"Certainly. I've seen to that. She's as healthy as you or me. She keeps to herself now more than ever, but it doesn't stop the bevy of fellows who come to call. I've chased off more potential suitors for the both of us than I can count."

"Those men ought to respect your situation and leave you he."

Zee laughed and lifted the pastry to her lips. "Maybe you ought to be stakin' your claim before she's swept up by someone else."

He felt his face grow hot at this comment, and Kjell wondered how to respond. He did want to "stake his claim," as Zee put it, but how to go about it was an entirely different matter.

"Tell me about her life, Zee."

"I should let her be the one to do the telling," the woman said, looking past Kjell out the window.

He glanced over his shoulder but could see nothing that should draw her attention. It had started raining again, so Lincoln Street was fairly deserted.

"I suppose it can't hurt to give you a hit of insight," Zee finally said, leaning hack in her chair. " Lydia had an arranged marriage to a cruel man at a very young age. I believe the agreement was struck when she was just fifteen. I thought it an awful arrangement with him being so much older than Lydia, but my brother thought my objections nonsense. He pointed out that many women were married before they reached twenty, and often to older widowers. Still, I thought it most objectionable.

" Lydia was married when she was sixteen and after that, knew nothing but heartache and misery. Her husband was only interested in money and power, as I heard it from Lydia. He had four children-the two boys were grown by the time Lydia married into the family and they treated her just as poorly as he did. There were two younger girls: a twelve-year-old and the youngest, who was only four at the time."

"No wonder Lydia is so hitter," Kjell said thoughtfully.

"You don't know the half of it, and I won't be the one to tell it. Suffice it to say, most of Lydia 's adult life has been a living hell. She holds God responsible, although she says she wants nothing to do with Him." Zee shook her head sadly. "The truth is, she'd love to have a real understanding of Him to feel close and safe, but she's been disappointed so many times in the past, she isn't willing to risk it."

"So she probably wouldn't want to risk marriage again, either?" He looked to Zee to see if she was shocked by the comment. She was nt.

"1 think the right man could show her that things could be different," Zee answered. "I'd like to believe you are that man, Kjell. You have infinite patience, and you're kind. Your gentle nature and generosity of spirit are exactly what she needs. However, you belong to the Lord, and Lydia does not. You can't be unequally yoked with her. She needs to overcome her separation from God before she can he with you. Otherwise, it will only prove misery for both of you."

Kjell hadn't thought about spiritual matters where Lydia was concerned. But she's going to have a baby. She needs a husband. The baby needs a father."

"Those things would be nice," Zee replied, "but unless she learns to leave the past behind her, Lydia could do you and herself more harm than good. Only God can help her get over her past."

He considered this for a moment. "But maybe I could help her to see the truth. Maybe that's why I've come to care about her. The Lord might well have put me in this frame of ►nind for just such a purpose."

Zee reached out and patted his hand. "Kjell, anything is possible. I won't be one to limit the Lord. Just be careful. I can see now you've already lost your heart-don't lose your values, as well."

"She's pregnant!" Mitchell declared in disbelief. "A woman of such loose moral character has no right to--"

"Oh, do be quiet," Marston said, shaking his head. "Don't you see that the child is due in December? That means she's carrying our father's baby."

Mitchell sat down rather hard, as if the shock were too much to bear. "Why didn't she say something before she left?"

"Most likely she didn't know or didn't want us to know." Marston studied the notes his man had furnished. "She wanted to depart for Sitka to he with her aunt and probably paid it no mind." Of course, there was the possibility she had known that she was pregnant and wanted to leave before anyone else found out. But why? What else was she hiding?

"Will you go to Alaska and bring her hack?"

"Yes." Marston's attitude was matter-of-fact.

Mitchell sat up in the chair. "She won't want to return, will she?"

"Probably not," Marston said, taking a scat behind his desk. "But she will come."

"I suppose this also explains her desire to keep the business."

"Why do you say that?"

Mitchell shrugged. "She wants it for the child. After all, he or she will be a Gray heir."

"I hadn't considered that, but you may he right." Marston leaned hack in the chair and pressed his fingertips together. "But that can also work to our advantage. We can point out to her that this child will need family to support him or her with education and training."

" Lydia will never want any of us around her child," Mitchell said, shaking his head. "She hates us all. She'll refuse to come."

"Then maybe she needn't come at all."

Mitchell's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"

"Just this: Perhaps I will go to Alaska and approach the subject from a concerned stepson's perspective. I will gently woo her with compliments and appreciation for her generosity, proclaim myself a changed man because of her sweetness, then propose that she is in desperate need of my help. After all, a widowed woman alone in the world, struggling to raise a child, will face many difficulties."

"Rut this is a rich widow."

"It doesn't matter, Mitchell. Good grief, man, you're marriedhave you not yet come to understand the emotional needs of your wife? Money means little to a woman when she is frightened and insecure about her future. Now that a child is involved, I would imagine her fears are even greater."

"But what if she doesn't even want the child? We haven't yet considered that possibility."

Marston thought about it for a moment. Everything he knew about Lydia Rockford Gray told him that would not be the case. If anything, she would keep the baby as a trophy, of sorts. A mark of her victory over her abusive husband and the family that had done her such harm.

If she doesn't want the child, I will offer to take it and raise it as my own. Honestly, Mitchell, there are more possibilities than obstacles here. If she doesn't want to cooperate, she can die, for all I care."

Mitchell's mouth dropped open, but no words were uttered. Marston couldn't help but laugh. "Don't look so shocked. We've talked about her demise before this. The notes here say she has already made provision for the child. She's asked Robinson to make up a will that leaves all of her worldly goods to the child, in care of his or her great aunt, Zerelda Rockford. She intends to keep the child, but even if she didn't, it's not the child or Lydia I care about. It's the business and the money she's robbed from us. That's all that truly matters at this point, and resolution of this problem is all I shall concern myself with."

Lydia accompanied her aunt to the Indian settlement to take some of the extra supplies she'd brought to Alaska. Zerelda assured her they wouldn't need so much, and there was great poverty amongst the Indians.

"They're proud, but exceedingly poor. We will trade with them, and that way they can support themselves," Zerelda told Lydia. "I think it's important that folks feel useful and know the value of working. We do no good to any man by giving him everything."

"I agree. I saw the damage done by that with many of our wealthy neighbors. Their sons had no reason to worry about where their money would come from, and therefore they did nothing to better themselves."

Zerelda nodded sadly. "We cannot continue to provide for their needs, then fault them for lacking ambition to improve their situation."

They had borrowed a small one-horse cart from a friend, as well as a very gentle old gelding. The wagon, though rickety, was solid enough. The seat was barely adequate for one person, but neither Lydia nor Zerelda were all that big, so they squeezed in together just fine.

Riding along in silence for several minutes, Lydia couldn't help but think hack on the things Kjell had told her on the night of the last dance. She couldn't help but wonder what her aunt might have to say on the topic. "Zerelda, do you ever question God?"

Zerelda chuckled. "I suppose I used to do it more than I do now. He never saw fit to consult me, so I started to figure He didn't owe me any answers.

"But doesn't He want us to understand?"

Her aunt looked at her. "Understand what?"

"Life. Death. The reason things happen as they do. If I could better understand why I had to go through all the pain and ugliness of my past, I might feel more inclined to trust God. If He would just give me that much."

"And you think knowing why my brother made the choice he did in giving you to Floyd Gray would honestly help you to trust God?"

Lydia knew it sounded silly, and in all truth, maybe she was just fooling herself. "I don't know. It just seems better when I understand why something is happening. When I was a little girl and my doll fell in the river, I was heartbroken and insisted my father go in after her. Mama explained that he couldn't do that because he couldn't swim and would die. That helped me to understand, and in knowing why a thing couldn't be done, I was better able to accept what had happened."

Zerelda nodded. "It sometimes helps to know the whys, but not always. If you knew why God had allowed you to marry a heartless man and miscarry the very babies you longed to mother, it wouldn't take away the past."

"No, but it might give that past meaning. Right now it feels as if it was all for nothing."

"But what of the child you carry?"

Lydia put her hand to her waist. "What do you mean?"

"You wouldn't have this baby if not for Floyd."

"If Floyd had lived, I most certainly wouldn't have this child. He would have beaten me like all the other times."

"So maybe God has a special purpose for this child and interceded on his behalf and yours."

She considered her aunt's words for a moment. "Then what of the others? Were they not also precious? Did they have no special purpose? Is God so uncaring that He saves one child and deserts another?"

Zerelda pulled hack on the reins. "Child, I know you're hurting. I know you want to fill that empty space inside you with answers. But answers aren't what will make you feel better. Only God can do that. Only making it right with Him will fill that longing."

Lydia sat quietly pondering her questions when they passed without trouble through the stockade gate. The Ranche was bustling with activity. The gate wouldn't be locked until six o'clock, hours away, so the people moved freely in and out of the settlement, and business carried on as usual. Lydia felt uncomfortable at the sight of the marketplace, where deer carcasses, wild ducks, and drying halibut hung. The smell was pungent, and Lydia feared her nausea would return.

All along the road, native women sat by their wares, ready to do business. Zerelda stopped the wagon before one such woman whose chubby toddler sat at her side, happily chewing a piece of leather hide.

Zerelda got down and squatted beside the woman. Lydia watched as they talked for several minutes. The woman nodded enthusiastically and showed Zerelda several baskets. Her aunt motioned, and Lydia climbed down to join them.

She has some lovely basket work. One of the larger ones would serve well for a baby bed. At least to begin with."

Lydia examined the workmanship and was notably impressed. The basket was as lovely as anything she'd ever seen.

"Oaax'oon sitkum," the woman told Zerelda.

"It's a good buy. Figures roughly two dollars." Zerelda got up and went to the cart, where she took up a heavy wool blanket and several other items. She spoke again to the woman and spread out the items on the ground. The woman considered each article. After a while, she and Zerelda seemed to come to an agreement.

Zerelda turned to Lydia. "I've also arranged to have some fish for our supper."

The woman went to a stack of fresh fish. She chose two large ones and wrapped them in newspaper. When she returned, Zerelda took up the bundle and nodded. Lydia placed the basket in the wagon and waited while Zerelda concluded her business. This experience was followed with several additional trades with other women until finally all the goods in the wagon were exchanged.

As they prepared to turn the cart for home, one of the Tlingit women rushed out to greet them. She jabbered excitedly about something, but Lydia couldn't understand a single word. Zerelda stopped the cart.

"There's been a new birth. We're invited to come see the baby."

Lydia followed Zerelda inside the darkened house. They were led past several boxlike partitions, used to divide the various family areas. Several families lived together in one long house, Zerelda told her. They were all of one clan.

Against one wall, Lydia could see that someone had adorned the wood with playing cards and handbills. The pieces seemed to hold a place of respect just as the fine oil painting of Charlotte Gray had back in Kansas City.

Zerelda and Lydia were ushered to the farthest side of the room and presented with a young woman, really no more than a girl, breastfeeding her infant. Lydia 's aunt immediately squatted down and began to converse. The girl seemed quite happy to see Zerelda. Apparently they were friends.

Lydia couldn't help hut wonder at the girl's age. She didn't look much older than thirteen or fourteen. She was so tiny and clearly very happy with her baby. The girl spoke rapidly and with such animation that Lydia couldn't help but smile. The entire atmosphere was like a parry. Lydia felt her own baby kick, as if to join in the celebration.

Once Zerelda and Lydia were bid farewell and headed for home, Lydia couldn't help but request an explanation of the situation. That girl seemed much too young to he a mother."

They marry young here. When a girl begins her monthly cycles, it becomes public knowledge. She is isolated for several months in a small building away from the main house. Chastity is highly valued here, so during her time of isolation, she will see no one but the older women and small children. She is taught that she is no longer a child but a woman ready for marriage. With everyone in the village knowing this, suitors will approach her parents to declare interest or the family will simply begin the finalization of contracts already agreed upon."

"How awful. And I thought to escape that kind of thing up here," Lydia said, remembering her own marriage contract.

"At least in their village, it isn't considered the oddity that it is in our world. Still, many of the girls die during childbirth. Their bodies struggle with the changes and the new responsibility of growing a life."

"She seemed happy. Do you think she'll he all right?"

Lerelda smiled. "She told me that the baby is her mother come back to life. The girl's mother died just before her marriage, and when she found herself pregnant almost immediately, the shaman told her that this was a sign of her mother's reincarnation."

And she believed it Lydia asked, amazed at such a thought.

"She did indeed. She is happy that this child has come to her, because it is the return of her mother. She believes her mother will help her now, and she will be strong and brave because of this."

"It seems such a hard life, especially for the women," Lydia said, shaking her head. It was difficult to imagine the little girl mothering a child.

"They manage," Zerelda replied. "They have for hundreds of years, and they will go on despite our presence. The family will help her, and she will he fine."

"I hope I shall manage half so well," Lydia murmured, putting her hand to her growing abdomen. The idea of giving birth frightened her more than she liked to admit.