Valley of promises, p.8
Valley of Promises, page 8
Robert's mouth was drawn into a grim line. “What? What did you say?”
“What are your plans if the farm doesn't work out?”
“It will work. My family and I will make it work. We've no other choice.”
“Things happen. Things you never count on. You can't know you'll succeed.”
Robert squared his shoulders. “Like I told you before, I'm a good farmer. We'll pray and work hard, and the farm will succeed.” His gentle demeanor fell away. “Farming's never easy. It's hard work every day. It takes grit. And I'm plenty determined. So are the others. But you wouldn't know that because you've never farmed. You've no idea what we can or cannot do.”
“You may be right, but I've already heard some colonists say they've made a mistake and they're planning to head home.”
Robert didn't try to hide his anger. “I don't believe you. I can't think of one of us who is ready to turn back. We know how to work and how to stick with something. Life's never been handed to us. No farmer I know would give up so easily.”
“You may want to believe that, but there are some who are already set on giving up. I'm no liar.”
Robert worked his jaw, then asked, “Do you really believe that?”
Laurel stepped between the two and turned on Adam. “Mr. Dunnavant, you're not a Midwest farmer. And you've no idea what it's like to be one.” So angry she could hardly think, she sputtered, “How can you even suggest that Robert or any of the rest of us are so spineless that we would give up at the slightest struggle? I've had enough of you and your bad manners and arrogance.” She looked at Robert. “I'll see you later? At dinner?”
Robert smiled. “Dinner.”
Laurel turned, and with a tight hold on Susie, walked away.
“So, if you're not ready to give up, how come you're already planning on leaving?” Adam threw after her.
Laurel stopped and glared at him. “You know it has nothing to do with that.” She turned and quickly walked toward the stairwell. “I've never met anyone like him,” she muttered. “He's the most egotistical, rude man I've ever known.” Pulling open the door, she stepped onto the landing. “Enough is enough,” she said, slamming the door.
The lighting in the stairway was dim, forcing her to slow her pace and carefully place her feet. By the time she reached her room, her temper had cooled, but her heart still pounded in exasperation. Now, more than ever, she looked forward to docking in Alaska and being rid of him.
She opened the door, and the odor of sweat and vomit hit her. Reluctant to enter, she stood in the doorway with her hand on the knob and studied the room. Several bunks had lumps beneath blankets from which moans emanated. A little girl lay on her side, thumb in her mouth, her face wet with tears.
Will sat in a chair beside Jean's bed. Laurel closed the door. “Is Mama all right?”
“She'll live, but she's awfully sick,” Will said wearily.
Laurel sat on the edge of the bed, and Susie squealed her delight at seeing their mother. Laurel had to hold her tight to keep her from crawling on Jean. “Mama, I didn't know you were so sick. Is there anything I can do?”
Without opening her eyes, Jean barely shook her head no.
Will dipped a washcloth into a basin of water and sponged her ashen face. “Looks like it's going to be a long trip.”
Laurel took her mother's hand. “Mama, I'm so sorry.”
This time Jean managed a weak smile and whispered, “It won't last forever.”
“That's right. We'll be in Seward in no time,” Will said cheerfully.
“What can I do to help?”
“I need to check on Luke. He looked like he was sick.”
“He is.”
“Could you stay with your mother while I see to him?”
“Of course.”
“While I'm gone, I'll see if I can find something for you to eat.”
“No. Don't. I couldn't keep anything down.”
“How about something to drink? I heard they have apple juice.”
“All right.” The ship nosed into a wave, and Jean's face turned gray. Sweat broke out on her upper lip. “I need the basin.” Immediately Laurel handed it to her, and Jean wretched. Laurel sponged her face.
His steps heavy, Will left.
Susie whined, then started to cry. “I think she's hungry,” Laurel said almost apologetically, knowing that feeding the baby would be difficult for her mother.
“I'll have to nurse her,” Jean said weakly. “Here, give her to me.” She unbuttoned her blouse and put Susie to her breast.
For several minutes nothing was said. Susie nursed and fell asleep. “Please take her,” Jean whispered.
Laurel placed the baby between two pillows at the end of the bed and covered her with a blanket. Susie looked angelic, her face free of worries. Laurel wished her life could be so simple.
Jean stared at the bunk above her. “I hate being sick—not being able to care for my family.”
“You always take care of us. Now it's our turn.”
Jean nodded, pulled the blanket up under her chin, and closed her eyes. Laurel settled back in the wooden chair and replayed the scene she'd had with Adam. Immediately her anger and frustration returned.
“Is everything all right?” Jean asked. “You look troubled.”
“I thought you were asleep. I'm fine.”
“I don't believe you.” Jean fluffed her pillow and carefully resettled her head.
“It's just that Adam Dunnavant. He makes me so angry.”
Jean gave her a questioning look. “What's he done?”
“He as much as said the farmers won't make it in Alaska, and he was so rude to Robert.”
“Robert?”
“Robert Lundeen. You met him on the train. Remember, he's the one whose father died just before they left.”
“Oh, yes—a nice young man,” Jean said weakly. She pushed herself up on one elbow. “Could you give me some water?”
Laurel filled a glass from the pitcher beside the wash basin and held it to her mother's lips. Jean sipped a little, then pushed it away. “I dare not drink anymore.” She lay down and was quiet for a few moments. “Oh, this seasickness is a terrible thing. I'll be glad when we get to Seward.”
“Adam said the seas are supposed to stay rough all the way there. He thinks he knows everything.”
“I hope he's wrong about the bad weather.” Jean looked at her daughter. “Why do you care what he thinks?”
“It's just that he's always certain he's right. It's infuriating.”
Jean raised an eyebrow. “All you have to do is stay away from him.”
“That's just it. I try, but every time I turn around, he's there.”
“Walk away.”
“I try.”
“You sure you don't care about him?”
“Adam? Of course not. I could never be interested in someone like him. When I'm ready to settle down, I want someone steady and decent. Adam's pushy and nothing more than a flirt.” She stared at the wall. “I've decided not to talk to him again.”
Chapter Nine
“I FOUND ANOTHER PAIR OF SOCKS AND SOME GLOVES,” LAUREL SAID, SITTING on the edge of Luke's deck chair where he lay huddled beneath three layers of blankets. “I'll help you put them on.” The ship rolled over a large swell, and Laurel nearly toppled off her seat.
Luke peered up at her through miserable eyes and mumbled, “Thanks.”
“I'm sorry you're so sick. You aren't feeling any better at all?”
“I don't know, maybe a little.”
“I wish there were something I could do. There must be something.” She scanned the deck, searching for a steward, but she couldn't find one. Laurel unlaced Luke's shoes and removed them, then pulled on the extra pair of socks and replaced his shoes. She started to push his hand into a glove.
Luke jerked his hand away. “I can do it.” He pushed his fingers into the warm wool, then laid back and closed his eyes.
“Hi, kids,” Will said, strolling up to Luke and Laurel. Brian was perched on his shoulders, and Justin ambled along the rail, clacking a stick against the braces. “You feeling any better?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
“We'll be in Seward soon.” Will rested his hand on his son's shoulder. “How much longer?”
“A couple of days.”
Luke pulled a blanket over his face. “That's too long.” Throwing back the cover, he looked at his father. “I'm never leaving Alaska if it means I have to take a ship.”
Will chuckled.
A steward joined them. “Feeling any better, Mr. Hasper?”
“I wish everyone would stop asking me that.”
“I have an apple and crackers and some tea for you.” Luke shook his head no. The steward looked at Will. “Should I leave them on the table?”
“Why bother? Nothing I eat stays put,” Luke muttered.
“Leave it,” Will said. “I'll get him to eat something.” A large swell lifted the ship, then dropped it into a trough. Will braced himself against a wall.
When the ship settled, the steward set the food and drink on the table. He stared at the boy pityingly. “In all my days of service, I've never seen so many sick.” The ship rolled over another wave, and Luke moaned. “Take heart, lad. Only a couple more days.”
Laurel kneeled beside her brother and rested a hand on his arm. “You need to eat something.”
“I can't.”
“Just a little.” She held up a cracker, but Luke turned his head. “All right then, try a little of the tea.” She set down the cracker, dropped a cube of sugar into the tea and stirred, then held the cup out to him.
Luke rolled onto his side, pushed himself up on one elbow, and took the cup. He sipped. “How's Mama?”
“Better, but she's weak and still a bit dizzy. She's worried about you.”
Using his pocketknife, Will sliced off a section of apple and held it out. “Try eating a piece of this.”
Luke reluctantly took the fruit and nibbled on it.
Adam joined the Haspers, and after tipping his hat to Will and Laurel, looked at Luke. “Sorry to see you're still sick. I was seasick once. It was no picnic, that's for certain.”
“Oh, dear Lord!”a woman shrieked.“Somebody help!”Miram Dexter ran onto the deck. “We're sinking! The ship is sinking! We're going to die!” She scanned the deck. “Where are the life jackets? What about lifeboats? Do we have any?” She paced up and down. “Where are they?”
“They're on the upper deck,” Laurel said, her heart leaping. “What's wrong? What's happened?”
Seeing Will, Miram sprinted across the deck and grabbed him. “Do something!”
“What's happened?” Will asked, his voice steady.
“There's water pouring into one of the cabins! We're going to sink!”
Will took hold of the hysterical woman's arms. “Miram, calm down. Getting in a panic isn't going to help. What do you mean there's water pouring into a cabin? Which cabin?”
People crowded around. “What's happened?” a woman asked. “Is something wrong?”
Miram closed her eyes and gulped in air. “All right, I'm calm,” she assured Will, but her voice said otherwise. It quavered, and its pitch rose with each syllable.
Will gently released her. “All right now, tell me what's happened.”
“Nothing happened exactly.” Her voice sounded shrill. “I was visiting with Mrs. Prosser and doing some needlework when water started seeping through the wall. At first it was only a little, but then more started coming in, and now it's a lot, and it's flooding the floor!” She held her face in her hands. “Someone has to do something!” Her eyes swept up and down the deck, then scanned the sea. “Dear God, what are we going to do?” She ran to the railing and peered out over choppy waves.
“Laurel, you take care of her,” Will said. “I'll see what's going on. And look after the boys.” He stopped in front of Miram. “Where is Mrs. Prosser?”
“She went to tell the captain.”
Laurel gathered her brothers close. “Daddy, check on Mama. OK?”
He nodded, then taking long strides, hurried to the stairs and disappeared. Adam, Robert, and two others followed.
Luke sat up, his skin sickly pallid. In a voice that sounded more like a boy's than a man's, he asked, “Laurel, what's happening?”
“I don't know, but I'm sure everything will be fine.” Laurel wished she could believe her own words. Miram seemed high strung, but Laurel couldn't imagine her making up such a story. She scanned the ocean, searching for land, but there was none.
“What should we do?” Luke asked, grabbing the edge of the chair and struggling to stand. For a moment he looked like he might fall, but he finally managed to gain his balance.
Justin hugged Laurel's legs. “Are we going to sink?”
“I'm sure if something were really wrong an alarm would have sounded.” Luke nodded and leaned against the wall. Laurel walked toward Miram who clung to the railing. Taking a slow, deep breath, she joined the young woman and rested a hand on her arm. She could feel Miram's trembling. “Where's your mother?”
Miram's eyes widened. “I don't know.” She searched the deck. “Do you think she's all right?”
“I'm sure she is.” Pasting on a smile Laurel continued, “And I doubt the boat is sinking. There must be another explanation.”
Clutching Laurel's hands, Miram shook her head. “I don't think there is another explanation.” Suddenly, she dropped to her knees and squeezed her eyes shut. “Dear Father in heaven, save us. Please don't let this boat sink.” Tears coursed down her face, and her glasses fogged. Unexpectedly, she opened her eyes wide. “What if there aren't enough lifeboats?”
“Whining isn't going to help,” Laurel said sharply. Miram shut her mouth. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and her chin quivered. Laurel regretted her harsh words. “Miram, I'm sorry. I'm sure there are enough lifeboats. I remember reading that after the Titanic sank, a new law was passed that says all ships must have enough lifeboats for passengers.” She gently lifted Miram off her knees. “It doesn't matter anyway. I'm certain the boat's not sinking.”
“What other reason can there be for water flooding Mrs. Prosser's cabin?”
“We'll know soon. My father will be back any moment, and he'll tell us.”
People were crowding onto the deck, gathering children, and rushing to find life jackets.
Hands trembling, Miram smoothed her hair and resettled her glasses on her nose. “I … I'm sure you're right.” She glanced at the stairway. “I just wish he'd hurry.”
Hoping Miram wouldn't notice her own shaking, Laurel placed an arm around the bird-thin young woman. “We're going to be fine. Everything will be fine.”
Miram nodded, then turned frightened eyes to Laurel. “But what if we are sinking? What'll we do?”
Trying to keep her tone light, Laurel said, “Well, I guess we get into the lifeboats. Land can't be too far away.” She gazed at the rough waters, wondering how many passengers knew how to swim and what would happen to the children. She searched for her brothers. They both sat huddled beside Luke on the deck chair.
Suddenly, the thrum of engines stopped, and Laurel's stomach turned over.
“What's happening?” Miram asked.
The ship's forward progress slowed, then stopped, and they wallowed in the swells. A wave hit broadside and lifted the ship, causing it to list to one side. We are sinking! Laurel's mind screamed.
Miram's eyes opened wide and her face turned ashen.
Will stepped onto the deck. Adam and Robert were right behind him. People closed in around the three and began firing questions. Will smiled reassuringly. “We're not sinking. The captain has everything under control. They'll have the problem fixed in no time.”
“What problem?” Miram asked, pushing through the crowd. “What's wrong?”
“There's a crack in the hull just below the waterline, and water's seeping into …”
“A crack in the hull! Oh, dear Lord! Is the ship breaking up?” a woman shrieked, gathering two little girls close to her.
Purposely keeping his voice low and steady, Will said, “No, the ship's not breaking up. The damage can be repaired. This used to be a navy transport, and there's a diving bell on board. They're going to drop it into the water and fix the tear.”
“They can do that?” Miram asked.
“Yep—according to the captain.” Will looked over the crowd. “The engines have to be shut down while they do the work.”
“More time lost,” a rumpled-looking, heavyset man complained. “First they overloaded us so we couldn't take the Inside Passage. Now this.” He flicked a cigarette butt over the side. “At this rate, we'll miss the drawing for our land.”
“We can't miss the drawing,” a young man with long blond hair said. He stood beside the first man who'd complained.
Will knew frustration was high among the colonists. Some were angry, some disenchanted, and others were frightened. There had been growing apprehension about whether the government could be trusted or not, and it wouldn't take much to get people stirred up. He lifted his eyes to the heavyset man. “It's only a few hours holdup. We'll make it in time for the drawing.”
Bullying his way through the crowd, the man stood in front of Will. “How can you be sure?”
Will met his defiant eyes and held out a hand. “I'm sorry, but we haven't met. My name's Will Hasper.”
The man stared at Will's hand through droopy lids, scrubbed his scraggly beard, then reluctantly shook hands. “Felix Pettersson.”
“Glad to meet you, Felix. We still have four days until the drawing. Captain said we should be on our way in ten to twelve hours. That will put us into Seward in plenty of time to make the train to Palmer.”
“Why should we believe the captain? Why should we believe anybody? The government's bungled this whole thing from the beginning.” Felix lit another cigarette, sucked smoke into his lungs, then blew it in Will's face. “We've been lied to.” He turned and looked at the people gathered around. “We can't trust the government officials or the captain.”
The younger man with the blond hair walked up to Will and peered at him. “He's right, isn't he? Things ain't been the way they were promised. We had no place to sleep on the train. There are no rooms for the men on this boat. Plus, the ship was jammed, and we've had to put up with rough seas. I ain't had a decent night's sleep since I left home.” He brushed the hair out of his eyes. “And now this? A tear in the hull? If we make it, what are we goin' to face when we git to Alaska? Maybe they lied to us about that too? Maybe there ain't no land.” He glanced around at the others. Some nodded. He turned back to Will. “I think we been lied to from the beginning.”
