Page 28 of Echoes of Twilight (Dawn of Alaska #4)
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“W hy are you searching the ship?” Bryony looked over her shoulder at the Aurora , which was being swarmed with workers from the Revenue Cutter Service. Mikhail stood on the wharf with his family—a family she hadn’t gotten to meet, because they’d been too busy arguing with the men who wanted to search the ship.
She hadn’t even been able to say good-bye to him. Not that they would have been able to have a private conversation, but it still would have been nice to wish him well a final time before leaving.
Governor Caldwell paused and glanced over his shoulder at the ship. “We’re looking for illicit contraband.”
“Illicit contraband?” Her steps faltered. “Does Mikhail’s family have a reputation for smuggling goods?”
The governor’s mouth tightened, but it was his brother, Mr. Preston Caldwell, who answered. “It’s standard procedure. All ships are subject to search by the Revenue Cutter Service at any time.”
“But Mikhail’s family didn’t act like the search was common practice.” She might not have heard everything Mikhail said while talking to one of his brothers and the ship’s captain, but she knew he’d been shocked by the search. The rest of his family had seemed furious.
“Bryony, dear.” Her father patted her on the shoulder. “Let’s leave the running of Alaska to the experts.”
“But...”
“Yes, we’ve far more important things to discuss, starting with how Richard died.” The governor panted slightly as they headed up the road, then he reached into the breast pocket of his coat and produced a handkerchief, which he used to dab at his hairline. “I must admit, his death is devastating, and I have no idea how his father will take it.”
His father, the senator. It had been easy to forget just how influential Richard’s family was while they were fighting for survival in the wilderness. But now that she was walking beside two men in pristine-looking suits, with polished shoes and perfectly pomaded hair, a weight settled on her chest.
“He slipped and fell off a makeshift bridge we were using to cross a deep canyon.” Father’s voice was calm and matter-of-fact as he answered, almost as though he were discussing his scientific findings. “The rest of us made it safely across, but not Richard.”
“Mikhail Amos was on the bridge with him, but he wasn’t fast enough to help,” Heath pronounced.
Mr. Caldwell’s eyes narrowed on Heath for a moment; then he turned back to her and offered his arm. “You must be devastated by the loss of your fiancé. Come, let me personally escort you back to the mansion.”
“Richard wasn’t my?—”
Heath clamped a hand her shoulder and squeezed. Hard.
It was enough for her to snap her mouth shut. What did it matter whether these men knew she wasn’t going to marry Richard? He was gone now, and no one could strong-arm her into marrying a dead man.
She settled her hand on Mr. Caldwell’s arm, allowing him to guide her toward his grand house towering over the rest of Sitka.
“It must have been quite distressing.” Mr. Caldwell’s voice was smooth as butter. “Especially since you were stuck in the wilderness for so long.”
“It was. There were times when I thought...” She shook her head and shoved the memories aside. There was no need to tell the businessman such things.
Besides, all of her fears were from before Mikhail had found them. Even with everything that had occurred on the trek back to Sitka—the mountainside that almost claimed Heath’s life, the Indians, the rapids—she’d felt nothing but safe with Mikhail leading them.
“Rosalind is up at the house waiting for you.” Mr. Caldwell nodded toward the fancy white mansion where they’d stayed before embarking on their expedition. “She was quite worried when your party went missing.”
She couldn’t help the smile that stole over her face. Rosalind Caldwell was as warm and sweet as her father was stern and businesslike. They’d known each other for a few years back in Washington, DC, before Rosalind had moved to Sitka with her parents.
If Rosalind had remained in Washington, they’d probably be even closer friends now. “Thank you. It will be nice to visit.”
“Once we get back to the house, I’ll have a bath prepared. Then I’ll have tea sent to the library, and you and Rosalind can visit while your father, brother, and I discuss some of the more unpleasant aspects of your journey.”
She’d just had a bath the night before, but she had so much dirt and grime on her skin that another scrubbing couldn’t hurt, especially one with perfumed water, so she found herself smiling yet again. “Thank you. That sounds lovely.”
And it did. Not just because of the bath but also because it had been months since she’d had a conversation with another female.
Two hours later she was clean and warm and clothed in one of the fancier dresses she’d brought on the trip. She’d left her trunk containing more feminine things with the Caldwells during the expedition, and it felt nice to sift through the satins, silks, and velvets. She finally decided to don a velvet dress that flattered her figure and made her feel like a lady again.
Rosalind had sent in her lady’s maid to help curl and pin up her hair, and when she looked in the mirror, she barely recognized the reflection. After weeks of using a small, cracked mirror that showed her with tangled hair in stained clothing or a coat, the poised, polished person staring back at her looked like a stranger—who’d lost about ten pounds.
When Bryony opened the door to the library, she found a room filled with light from three enormous windows that overlooked the town.
“Bryony!” Rosalind had been on the settee reading, but she rose to greet her with arms outstretched.
Bryony stepped into the hug, the softness of the other woman’s lavender-scented skin brushing against her cheek.
“I’m so relieved you’re safe.” Rosalind pulled back to look her over, a slight frown curving her lips. “When your party didn’t arrive at the beginning of September, I was so afraid for you. Father and Uncle Simon were too.”
Again, memories of their time in the valley rose in her mind, of the fear, the lack of food, the constant cold she couldn’t get away from. “I’m just glad Mikhail found us when he did.”
Curiosity sparked in Rosalind’s crystal blue eyes. “Mikhail Amos? Is he as good as people say at navigating the wilderness? Every expedition that leaves from Sitka in the spring tries to get him as a guide. People rarely die on his expeditions.”
“Really?” Bryony blinked. “But I thought... That is, wasn’t his first expedition...”
“Oh, you mean the one he survived years ago?” Rosalind made a swishing motion with her hand. “That wasn’t his expedition. Another guide was in charge, and Mr. Amos was an assistant guide. But after the leader died, Mr. Amos had to take over. Somehow he ended up surviving, along with another man, but everyone else died. In all the expeditions Mr. Amos has been in charge of, though, he’s lost only one man—until Richard, that is.”
Based on what Mikhail had shared with her after Richard died, she never would have guessed. Why did someone who was so good at saving people’s lives carry around such guilt inside?
“I’m so sorry to hear about Richard.” Rosalind reached out and squeezed her hand. “Father told me what happened. You must be devastated.”
“Oh, right. I... ah...” She found herself unable to meet the other woman’s gaze. How much should she tell Rosalind Caldwell about Richard? They were friends, but not close enough that Rosalind had known her true feelings before leaving.
But one glance at the small, delicate woman standing in the middle of the grand library had her opening her mouth. Rosalind Caldwell was lovely, yes, but she’d been living in the middle of nowhere for several years. Did she have any friends here her age? Her father didn’t seem like the sort to let his daughter befriend fishermen’s and miners’ daughters.
“The truth is, I didn’t want to marry Richard. I never wished him dead, but I wasn’t going to...” Movement through the window caught her eye. “Wait. Are there people still on the Amoses’ ship? Don’t tell me the Revenue Cutter Service is still searching it?”
Rosalind looked out the window, a small groove etching itself across her delicate brow. “I’m afraid they are.”
“Aboard ship, they made it sound like these searches were just a standard procedure.”
“Usually they are, but Father’s not too keen on the Amos family, and neither is Uncle Simon.”
“Why?” The Amoses seemed nothing short of wonderful.
Rosalind sighed, the sound small and dainty. “Grudges. Money. Revenge. What else?”
“You almost make it sound like the Amoses stole something from your family, but I can’t imagine them doing that.”
“They didn’t steal, no. But the Amoses have never been swayed by Father’s wealth or power. That probably set them off on the wrong foot from the beginning. Then years ago, Sacha, who was captaining one of his family’s ships at the time, reported one of our ships for poaching seals at sea.”
Bryony scratched the side of her head. “I thought your family had the sole right to hunt seals in Alaska? How could one of your ships be poaching?”
“Only the bulls are allowed to be hunted, and only on land, after they’ve mated so that it doesn’t damage the seal population.” Rosalind turned away from the window. “Hunting at sea usually means killing a female, and the female might even be pregnant.”
“I see.”
“So even though only two seals were poached, the judge who heard the case ordered the entire shipload of pelts—most of which had been legally harvested—to be seized.”
A sickening sensation swirled in Bryony’s stomach. “How much did that cost your family?”
“About twenty thousand dollars.”
That was about twenty years’ worth of wages for a regular working man. “I suppose that explains why your family doesn’t like the Amoses.”
Rosalind’s shoulders rose and fell on a sigh. “It doesn’t stop there.”
“Don’t tell me the Amoses cost your family more money?”
“It didn’t exactly unfold like that, but after the poaching incident, Sacha Amos grew concerned about how many seals were being hunted, either on land or at sea. So last year he brought a scientist to Alaska to study the seal population over the summer.”
“Was he hoping to get the quota lowered?”
Rosalind rested a hand against the window trim as she stared at the town and water beyond. “He never came out and said that directly, and personally, I think he’s genuinely concerned the seals might go extinct, like the sea otter. But Father saw it as a direct threat to our company.”
“So in retaliation, your father is having all of the Amoses’ ships searched?” Bryony moved her gaze to where tiny people swarmed the deck of the ship that had brought her to Sitka.
“Technically my uncle is the one having the ships searched. He’s the governor. But yes, they’ve been making an example of the Amoses ever since Uncle Simon arrived. But searching ships like this isn’t merely uncommon. It’s unheard of, and the entire town is talking about it. On top of that, the RCS is holding the ships for days at a time while they conduct their so-called searches. This is causing all sorts of delays for the Amoses’ shipping schedule. There’s even...” Rosalind shook her head, then stepped away from the window and went back to the tea service sitting on the table in front of the settee.
Bryony followed her. “There’s even what?”
“There’s a rumor that Alexei lost a big contract down in Seattle because two of his ships were delayed so long here in Sitka.” Rosalind’s hand shook as she lifted the teapot. “The Amos family has rerouted their ships to Juneau so they don’t have to come to Sitka, but it’s only a matter of time before my uncle establishes an RCS station there, too, and searches those ships next.”
“I had no idea.” Bryony picked up the dainty teacup Rosalind poured for her, that sick feeling returning to her stomach. Why hadn’t Mikhail said anything about this?
“I’m afraid it gets worse. Yesterday the Amos family filed a harassment lawsuit against Uncle Simon and the RCS, and they also lodged a complaint with the secretary of the interior.”
“Why did Mikhail have the Aurora bring us back here then?” She took a sip of tea, but it tasted bitter in her mouth. “Surely we could have waited in Wrangell for another ship.”
“I’m not sure he knew. The most recent developments happened after he left to search for you.” Rosalind tilted her head to the side, her teacup hovering halfway between her lap and her mouth. “Do you know Mikhail Amos well?”
Well enough to remember how his lips feel against mine. Bryony pressed her lips together, trying to resist the sudden urge to squirm. “I suppose. I mean, I haven’t known Mikhail long, but in some ways, it feels like we’re the best of friends. Maybe that’s bound to happen after a person saves your life not just once but twice.”
Rosalind’s teacup clattered in a rather unladylike manner. “He saved you twice?”
She told Rosalind the story. Her friend was quiet the entire time, daintily sipping her tea, though her eyes widened when she explained how she’d almost been taken captive by Indians, and then how she’d fallen into the river the very next day and almost drowned.
“I know it seems wild to say such things, but I still can’t help but think that if not for Mikhail, I might be the bride of a Tlingit warrior. He bartered two hundred blankets and a pail of beads so they would release me.”
“No. It doesn’t seem wild.” Rosalind dabbed the side of her mouth with her napkin. “The Tlingit will take captives if they’ve been wronged. Sometimes they kill the captives, but other times they keep them as slaves, or in the case of women—wives. Last year a Tlingit man from Hoonah was killed on one of my father’s ships. The clan asked for four hundred blankets in return, but my father refused to pay it. It turned into quite the event.”
Bryony reached for one of the sandwiches cut into small triangles. “What happened? Did the clan kidnap someone? Or worse, kill them?”
“No. Mr. Amos—I mean Alexei, Mikhail’s oldest brother—gave the village of Hoonah four hundred blankets to keep peace.”
“So this wasn’t the first time the Amos family stepped in to barter peace with the Indians?”
“Not hardly. The Amoses are always working to keep peace. Sometimes I feel like no one else even tries.”
She slanted a glance at her friend. “You seem to know the Amoses well.”
A faint blush crept into Rosalind’s cheeks, and she looked away, her fingers fidgeting with the embroidered edge of her gown. “Yuri Amos and I have crossed paths a few times. He’s... kind. And sometimes it seems like there aren’t too many men who treat women with kindness.”
For a moment, she thought Rosalind would say more about Yuri, but then Rosalind picked up the teapot and poured another stream of tea into her cup.
“That’s why you don’t need to be worried about my uncle and the RCS searching the Aurora . They won’t find anything. The Amoses are good people.”
“I hope you’re right. I would hate to see Mikhail or anyone else charged for something they didn’t do.” Bryony shoved her hand in the direction of the window, where the Aurora was still visible.
The sudden motion caused Rosalind to flinch. No, not a flinch. More like a jerk, her whole body tensing. Then she pulled back so sharply that her sleeve slid up to her elbow.
Was that a bruise?
Rosalind set her teacup down with another clatter, causing her sleeve to fall back to her wrist, but Bryony reached out and gripped her friend’s forearm.
Rosalind winced, as though merely touching her caused pain, then tried to pull her arm away. “Don’t.”
But it was too late to stop. Bryony had already slid the sleeve partway up Rosalind’s arm. Bruises of all shades marred her skin, some in the healing stages of green and yellow, and others a fresh purple-and-blue color.
Rosalind’s eyes flew up to hers, and she yanked her arm away, then tugged her sleeve back down. “I said don’t.”
Bryony couldn’t look away from her friend’s arm, even though it was now covered with light pink satin. Was her other arm just as bruised? “Don’t what?”
“Say anything, ask any questions. Whatever you’re thinking, just stop and pretend you never saw it.”
“Is someone hurting you?”
Rosalind tucked her arm against her side, as though that could somehow make the bruises disappear. “No.”
“Are you hurting yourself?”
“Please just do as I asked and forget you saw anything.”
The door to the library opened.
“Ah, Miss Wetherby, you look quite refreshed.” Rosalind’s father took a few steps inside, his sharp gaze taking in everything about the room. “I came to see if you were finished with your tea, but it looks like you’re still enjoying it.”
“Yes, Father.” Rosalind kept her eyes downcast as she spoke. “Can we have another ten minutes, or do you need this room?”
Mr. Caldwell flashed them a smile that Bryony decided she didn’t trust. “Take twenty minutes, darling. It’s nice to see you visiting with a friend.”
Then he turned and closed the door. Or rather, he almost closed the door, but it stayed open a crack rather than latching shut.
Bryony didn’t hear footsteps retreat down the hall either, and she could have sworn a shadow lingered in the opening as they moved their conversation on to the latest fashions in Washington, DC, and the series of operas she’d attended last spring. In fact, she could have sworn the shadow lingered until they finished their tea and rose to leave the room.