Dawn's Prelude (11 page)

Kjell heard the wagon coming down the road and realized the Sidorovs were returning. He wondered what they would say when confronted with the question of the money. And then there was the issue of their hitting the boys. Kjell wasn’t entirely sure how to approach the subject. He certainly didn’t want the Sidorovs to somehow make the boys pay for their admission.

Two strong draft horses plodded up the drive and came to a stop when Anatolli pulled back hard on the reins. Ioann jumped from the wagon and began to unhitch the horses.

“I need to talk to you about something,” Kjell said, looking from one broad-shouldered brother to the other. “Josh will take care of the horses. Why don’t you step into my office.” He turned and called for Josh and waited until the younger man was in sight before joining the brothers.

“I need to talk to them—will you see to the horses?”

“Sure thing, b— . . . Kjell.” He grinned. “See? I’m getting better already.”

Kjell gave a chuckle, but it was halfhearted. He hated confrontation with anyone, but even more so with employees. He entered his office.

“I had a talk today with Mr. Seymour. It seems you told him the price of his lumber was to go up by fifty dollars. If he would pay you in cash, it was to be half that amount. Now, which one of you wants to tell me what this is all about?” he asked, crossing his arms and taking a stand behind his desk.

The two men were noticeably unhappy. Anatolli’s jaw clenched tight, and Ioann crossed his arms in a defiant manner.

“The man speaks lies,” Ioann said, narrowing his eyes.

“Does he?” Kjell countered. “And what purpose would that serve? Perhaps I should go speak with some of the other customers and see if they’ve had similar problems.”

Anatolli shook his head and reached out to take hold of his brother’s arm. “We must not lie. It is true. But please understand.

We did not do this bad for our own pleasure.”

Kjell looked from one man to the other. “I’m listening.”

“It’s our mother.” Anatolli glanced at Ioann for support.

“
Da
, our mother is very sick. We get word that she may die,”

Ioann said. His entire countenance changed before Kjell’s eyes. His expression took on one of a chastised pup. “We need money for the journey home.”

“Why not just tell me about it? Instead, you go steal from my customers?”

“We did not think a little here and there would be missed,”

Anatolli said, shrugging.

“Twenty-five dollars is hardly a little amount. Who else have you done this to?”

“I can’t remember,” Ioann replied.

“That many, eh?” Kjell shook his head and sat down at the desk. “You will return the money immediately, or I will turn this situation over to the army.”

Anatolli jumped forward. “But please, we cannot do that. We have already purchased the tickets to Russia. We cannot get back our money. Please do not take us to the soldiers, or we might never see our mother again.”

Kjell considered his words for a moment. The man was probably right. If he made this a matter of public knowledge, it would be months before they could go home. Against his better judgment, he nodded.

“Very well.” Both men smiled and nodded as if to assure him he’d made the right decision. “But I want a list of the people you overcharged. I need to make everything right with these folks.”

“We will work on it together. Maybe we will have the names come to us,” Anatolli suggested.

Kjell decided to say nothing more for the moment. He could scarcely believe there had been so many other people involved that the brothers couldn’t simply give him a handful of names. He would have to take the account books home and go over each entry and then seek out each man. Who knew how much this would cost him in the long run? But money was nothing to a man’s reputation. In this part of the world, a reputation was everything, and Kjell wasn’t about to have his ruined by the likes of the Sidorov brothers.

“Get out of here. Come back in the morning with my list.”

“And you will not turn us over . . . to the soldiers?” Ioann asked in a hesitant manner.

“No, but neither will I keep you in my employ. I cannot stand thieves.” Kjell stood. “Leave me now before I change my mind.”

The two men hurried from the room much as the Tlingit boys had done earlier. With a heavy sigh, Kjell picked up the ledger and slammed it shut. It was going to be a long night.

He thought for a moment of Zerelda’s offer of supper. Maybe he should take her up on it. After all, he would get to see Lydia again. The book weighed heavy in his arm, however. He wouldn’t be good company, given the problem at hand. No, it would be best if he kept to himself.

By the end of the week, Lydia felt considerably stronger. She had managed to recover completely from her seasickness and finally felt able to converse with Zerelda about the things that had happened in Kansas City.

Lingering over supper one night, Lydia shared her heart. “I feel safe here. For the first time in my life, I feel truly safe.”

Her aunt frowned. “I’m so sorry. A young woman shouldn’t have to come to the wilds of a barely settled land to experience such a thing. I’m truly angry with my brother for putting you in such circumstances, but I know that holding a grudge against the dead is hardly reasonable. He obviously didn’t think of the pain he was causing you.”

“No, I suppose he didn’t,” Lydia agreed. “My poor mother worried herself into the grave over the situation. I’m certain it was this and not the pneumonia that killed her.”

“May your parents both be at rest now.”

Lydia said nothing. She wasn’t sure she really cared if her father had found peace or not. She still felt a hardness inside when she remembered pleading with him to annul the contract so she wouldn’t have to marry Floyd Gray.

“Well,” she said, putting thoughts of her parents aside, “there won’t be any rest when it comes to the Grays trying to get back at me for taking their fortune. I’ve made arrangements with my lawyer to see their physical properties returned, but I’m sure they will remain unhappy. They had expected to get everything. They won’t like that I’ve kept a part of what they deem to be theirs.”

“This will make them dangerous,” Zerelda said. “Men who feel they have been cheated seldom rest until the dispute is made right by their standards.”

“That’s why I left.”

“I’m glad you did. I worried so about you. Many was the night I spent on my knees in prayer for your deliverance.”

“Surely even you can see that it didn’t work, Aunt Zerelda. You can’t expect me to put any stock in your prayers when they so obviously failed.”

“But they didn’t. You were delivered,” Zerelda said, looking surprised. “Can’t you see that for yourself?”

“You can’t tell me that Floyd’s death was some divine intervention by God on my behalf.” Lydia shook her head. “Why not simply make Floyd a kind man who truly loved me? Why not change the hearts of Floyd’s children and give me a good life in their company?”

“We can’t always know why God answers our prayers in one way instead of another.”

Lydia got to her feet. “Or doesn’t answer them at all. Honestly, Zerelda, I cannot see things your way when it comes to God. If you’ll excuse me now, I’d like to go outside and play my violin.”

Zerelda looked as if she wanted to say something more, but she remained silent. Lydia went to her violin case and opened it. She lovingly took up the bow and tightened the horsehair. Next she ran it across the rosin and, when satisfied, picked up the violin and tucked it under her arm.

Outside, the world seemed at peace. The sun wouldn’t yet set for hours, given the long summer days. Lydia walked a little ways down the path and stood overlooking the harbor below. The tiny islands looked like shadowy mounds against the gray-blue water. Several fishing boats made their way across the inlet, and in the far distance, a ship sat anchored in the stillness.

Lydia tested the strings of the violin, listening for the perfect pitch she desired. When this was accomplished, she raised the violin and rested it against her shoulder. Since she’d been a young girl, this very action had given her spirit a sense of calming. Drawing the bow across the strings, Lydia sighed. Her soul took flight on the wings of the melody, the haunting strains drifting down the valley to fill up all the hushed nooks with song.

Closing her eyes, Lydia lost herself in the moment. Here, nothing could harm her. Here, there was true peace and comfort for her weary and damaged heart.

Chapter 9

July 1870

O
n the twenty-seventh of July, the
George S. Wright
sailed into Sitka Sound with the mail. Lydia was anxious for word from Mr. Robinson. She hoped that the wills had been settled and that she could put the ordeal behind her. Especially now. Now that she was certain she carried Floyd’s child.

Having a baby was the last thing Lydia had expected or planned for. She was still rather dumbfounded by the idea, but there was also a bit of pleasure and happiness at the thought that she would have a child of her own—a child Floyd and the rest of the Grays couldn’t harm and influence.

She hadn’t yet told Zerelda, but her aunt was a nurse and Lydia presumed she’d already suspected. Lydia figured to talk to her that night at dinner. After all, they would have to plan for the future. The baby would come sometime around Christmas, and Lydia wanted to be completely prepared.

“This what you’re waiting for?” the postmaster asked. He extended a thick envelope to Lydia.

“Thank you, Mr. Fuller. I believe it is.” She didn’t wait to open it. Zerelda was next door at the bakery visiting with a friend, so Lydia found a place to sit not far away and began to read.

My dear Mrs. Gray,
     
I hope this missive finds you in good health. As I am certain you
are wondering about the resolution of your husband’s and father’s
estates, I will get right to the heart of the subject.

Lydia read on to see that the court had ruled in her favor.

Marston and Mitchell were appealing the ruling, of course, but Robinson was unconcerned. He did, however, wish to know if Lydia still desired him to settle everything in the same way she had dictated upon her departure.

This gave Lydia pause to reconsider. Before, she hadn’t known about the baby. This babe, after all, was entitled to the wealth as much as any of his half siblings. She shook her head, still finding it hard to imagine that she was actually carrying Floyd’s baby in her womb. Because of her previous miscarriages, Lydia had feared she would be unable to have a baby of her own. Finding herself pregnant was somewhat like having the last laugh.

She continued reading, seeing that Robinson would await her final decision before proceeding. Perhaps it was time to give the entire matter another look. She had the money her father had left her in trust. She also had his estate and investments. And then there was the business her father and Floyd had built together.

The casket business was producing an incredible profit, as Lydia could see by the statements issued from Robinson’s office. Should she take that potential inheritance from her son or daughter?

Frowning, Lydia considered her options. To continue ties with the business would mean having to deal with Marston and Mitchell in some capacity. Or would it? She drew a deep breath and glanced out at the activity going on around her. What if she completely removed Marston and Mitchell from the business? Robinson was telling her that at this point everything belonged to her. What if she simply had Robinson dismiss them from any business dealings with the manufacturing company?

That would make them hate her more than they already did, but what of it? She honestly didn’t care about their opinion. What she cared about was offering a fair and just life for her child.

“You seem deep in thought. I hope the news isn’t bad,” Zerelda said as she joined Lydia. She carried a basket that was now heaped with goods from the bakery and held them up like some kind of prize bestowed upon her. “We will certainly eat well for lunch. We have fresh bread and some wonderful pastries.”

Lydia nodded and tucked the letter back into the envelope. She said nothing but picked up the pace to follow Zerelda. Clouds were moving in, and in all likelihood it would be raining soon. Sitka often received more rain in a few days than Lydia had seen Kansas City welcome in weeks.

“So is the letter good news or bad? I presume it’s from your lawyer, since you said no one else knows of your being here.”

“It is from Mr. Robinson. He says the courts have ruled in my favor.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Zerelda said, smiling. “You surely have nothing to fear anymore.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Mr. Robinson also says that Marston and Mitchell have appealed the decision. He wants to know how I want to handle things, as he hasn’t yet moved on the distribution of properties that I left for him to see to.”

“But why? Didn’t you tell him exactly what you wanted to do?” Zerelda shook her head. “Won’t the delay just cause further animosity between you and your dead husband’s children?”