Brides of Alaska Page 2

  “There’s one here standing ready for Nurse Eriksson’s use,” Dr. Welch offered. Julie smiled to herself. It was the first time anyone in Nome had called her that.

  “Well, Julie?” August looked at his sister and waited for her approval.

  Julie nodded. “I think I can remember the way home,” she said with a laugh.

  “If you don’t,” August grinned, “the dogs sure will. Especially if it’s close to dinner time.”

  “It’s agreed then,” Dr. Welch said. “Julie, you are welcome to sleep in the back room. There’s a stove and plenty of coal. It’s well protected from the wind and shouldn’t get too cold.”

  “Once you get past twenty degrees below zero, it’s just about the same. Cold is cold,” Julie said like a true Alaskan.

  Turning to August, Dr. Welch gave him instructions on where he could leave Julie’s dogs and sled gear. “Oh, here. I almost forgot,” August said as he handed Julie the package he’d been holding. “These are the things you asked me to bring. I was going to have you change before the trip home.”

  “You remembered!” Julie said with a note of excitement in her voice. “My sealskin pants and parka!”

  August smiled as he secured his parka hood. “I’ll tell Pa you’ll be home tomorrow. Now if you’ll both excuse me, I’ll finish unloading the sled and be on my way.”

  Julie put the package aside and threw herself into August’s arms. “Thank you, August. Please tell Pa I love him and I can’t wait to see him again.” August gave Julie a tight squeeze and was gone.

  Loneliness seeped into her heart, reminding Julie once again of the isolation she’d known in Seattle. She tried to shake the feeling, convincing herself that because she was home, she’d no longer be lonely.

  As she turned from the door, she could hear the dogs yipping outside, anxious to be on the trail. She understood their cries. She, too, longed to be making the trip home.

  Chapter 2

  The next morning at breakfast, Julie couldn’t contain her excitement. “I can’t believe I’m finally home. I can hardly wait to see my father.”

  “I would’ve gotten about as much accomplished if I’d sent you on home with your brother. I suppose I should have realized the importance of your spending time with your family,” Dr. Welch said as he and Julie accepted a stack of hotcakes from the Union Restaurant’s waitress.

  Julie laughed in animated excitement. “I feel just like a little girl at Christmas,” she said as she poured warmed corn syrup on her cakes.

  “We still need to pick up a few things for your trip home,” Dr. Welch reminded her.

  “Umm,” Julie nodded with her mouth full. Taking a drink of hot coffee, she added, “I appreciate the supplies you’ve already loaned me. I’ll only need to pick up food for the dogs. It’s always wise to keep your transportation well cared for, just in case we get stuck on the trail.”

  “I heard tell a blizzard is due in,” Dr. Welch said between bites. “I’m afraid you’ll have to really move those dogs to get home before the storm catches up with you.”

  Julie glanced out the window. The skies were still dark, making it impossible to get any bearing on the incoming storm. “I’d nearly forgotten about the darkness. How many hours of daylight can I count on this time of year?”

  “I wouldn’t expect more than seven—especially if that storm moves in as planned. The sun won’t be up for another hour or so,” Dr. Welch said, glancing at his pocket watch.

  “I don’t dare wait that long,” Julie said thoughtfully. “I’ll mush out in the dark. The dogs know the trail in their sleep, and I won’t need more than two or three hours at the most, if the trail is clear.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to it?” Dr. Welch questioned. “I don’t intend to lose my first public health nurse. I’ve waited too long for help.”

  Julie smiled. “Don’t worry about me,” she reassured. “I’ve never been one to take unnecessary risks. I’ll be fine if I can move out right away.”

  “Then I’ll pay for this meal, and we’ll go secure some food for your dogs,” Dr. Welch said as he rose from the table.

  Julie hurriedly forked the last of the hotcakes into her mouth and pulled on her parka. The warmth of the coat made her feel confident that she could face the trail without danger.

  Julie affixed the dog harness to the sled, remembering to anchor the sled securely before attaching any of the dogs. Reaching for her lead dog, Dusty, Julie gave the strong, broad-chested malamute a hearty hug. “Good dog, Dusty. You remember me, don’t you, boy?” she questioned as she led him to the harness.

  Dusty yipped, and soon the rest of the dogs perked up and began dancing around as Julie talked to and petted each one. Within minutes, they were once again good friends.

  After harnessing Dusty in the lead, Julie secured her swing dogs, Nugget and Bear. Two team dogs, Teddy and Tuffy, came next, with two wheel dogs, Cookie and Sandy, rounding out the sled team.

  Julie checked the lines and then rechecked them. It had been at least five years since she’d had to be responsible for such a job, and she was self-conscious about doing it right. The wind picked up, reminding her of the expected snow.

  “Well, boys,” Julie said as she checked the ropes that held her sled load. “I think we’d best be on our way.” She left the dogs long enough to go inside and bid Dr. Welch good-bye, promising to return in two weeks.

  Taking her place at the sled, Julie paused for a moment of prayer. “Dear Lord, please watch over us and deliver me safely to my father and brother. Amen.” She pulled up the snow hook and tossed it into the sled basket.

  “All right, team. Hike!” she called, grabbing the bar tightly. She ran behind the sled for a few feet before taking her place on the runners. Soon she’d be home!

  Once the dogs made their way out of Nome, they followed a trail that paralleled Norton Sound. Julie was relieved that, because the wind had been surprisingly calm through the night, the trail hadn’t drifted much.

  Julie barely felt the cold, even though the temperature had dropped to fifteen below. She was so well bundled beneath the layers of wool and fur that when snow started to fall, she barely noticed.

  An hour later, however, the snow had worked into a blizzard with fierce winds blowing off the sea. Julie knew the dogs would stay to the trail unless something barred their way, so she moved on without concern.

  The wind and ice pelted down ruthlessly, causing Julie to nearly lose control of the sled once or twice. The snow drifted and blew, almost obliterating the trail. Julie reassured herself by remembering that the dogs would be able to find their way through. Nonetheless, she found herself whispering a prayer. It wasn’t until Dusty abruptly brought the team to a stop that Julie began to worry.

  She couldn’t call to the dogs above the blizzard’s roar, and the blowing snow made it impossible to see up ahead. Julie wondered why Dusty felt it necessary to stop. She grabbed the snow hook and, after securely anchoring it in the ice-covered snowbank, made her way along the sled.

  Taking hold of the harness, Julie made her way down the line past each dog. Finally coming to Dusty, she took hold of the tugline. “What is it, boy?” she questioned as she strained to see down the obscured trail.

  Dusty whined and yipped but refused to move forward. Julie turned to move back down the line of dogs when someone grabbed her arm from behind. Her scream of surprise was lost in the muffling of scarves and blowing wind. She turned. A pair of ice-encrusted eyes stared at her.

  For a moment Julie did nothing. Her pounding heart obscured all other sounds. She was surprised that the dogs remained relatively calm, and because even Dusty seemed at ease with this person, she began to relax.

  The man let go of Julie’s arm and motioned her to the sled. Julie nodded while the man took hold of Dusty’s harness. Julie pulled the snow hook and grabbed onto the sled bar. The team barely moved as the stranger helped them down a steep embankment and across a solid sheet of ice.

  The dogs c
ouldn’t get good footing against the slick surface, but the man moved them across with little difficulty. The snow let up just a bit, and Julie could see the stranger urging Dusty up the opposite bank. Whoever he was, Julie was grateful.

  The dogs were struggling to get up the bank. Julie knew she should get off the sled and help push. She gingerly took one foot off and then the other. The ice offered no traction, and when Julie pushed forward, her feet went out from beneath her.

  Smacking hard onto the ice, Julie lay still, struggling to draw a good breath. Tucking her legs up under her, Julie managed to get to her hands and knees. Just then she felt the firm grip of the man as his hands encircled her waist. Within moments, Julie was up on her feet and, thanks to the stranger, soon up the embankment.

  Standing at the top to catch her breath, Julie thanked God for answering her prayers for safety by providing help from a stranger. She quickly resumed her place on the runner of her sled, ready to set out again.

  The stranger moved forward. Julie could barely see the outline of another dogsled team. They would now progress together, Julie realized as the man waved her ahead. She felt much better traveling through the storm with a companion.

  They progressed slowly, but evenly. Snow fell heavily at times, and the wind threatened to freeze Julie’s eyes closed. Just as quickly, the wind would let up and visibility would improve. In spite of the questionable weather, Julie felt confident that nothing would hamper her trip home. She’d put the entire matter in God’s hands, and she refused to take it back.

  No sooner had this thought crossed her mind than the teams approached a river. Julie waited patiently while the stranger moved his dogs onto the ice. She watched silently as the man expertly maneuvered his animals across the river. It would only be a few more minutes before he’d signal her to start down the embankment.

  Then the unthinkable happened. The stranger’s lead dog disappeared into the river. Julie watched in horror as the stranger moved ahead of the team to pull his dog from the water. A sudden stillness in the wind carried the sound of cracking ice just before the stranger joined his dog in the water.

  Julie had to act fast. She worked her dogs down the riverbank and onto a ledge of even ground. Fearful that the ice would give way and cause more harm, Julie tied a line around her waist and secured it to her anchored sled.

  Cautiously, she worked her way across the slippery ice to the place where the stranger’s dog team waited for their leader. The stranger was holding on to the edge of the ice, but it was impossible for him to get out. He’d cut the lead dog from the harness and was trying to boost him out of the water.

  Julie reached down, took hold of the dog’s thick, rough fur, and pulled him forward. The dog seemed fine as he found his footing and shook out his heavy coat. Untying the line from around her waist, Julie motioned the stranger to secure it under his arms.

  Following the rope back to her own dogs, Julie took hold of Dusty’s harness and pulled him forward down the bank of the river. “Forward!” Julie called against the wind. The dogs worked perfectly, pulling against the added weight of the stranger. Julie kept looking over her shoulder as she encouraged the dogs to pull. When she saw the man roll up onto the ice, she stopped the dogs and quickly crossed the ice to help the man to his feet.

  Julie reached out her hand and helped the man stand. He seemed unharmed, yet Julie knew the possibility of hypothermia was great. She motioned to the man to take off his parka, but he shook his head and pointed up the embankment.

  She reluctantly agreed to follow the man as he loaded his lead dog into the sled basket and led his dogs away from the broken ice. Julie retrieved her team and, feeling more confident of her abilities, urged them up the riverbank. At the top of the embankment, she could see why the man had motioned her on. A light flickered brightly in a cabin window.

  With so much of the Alaskan winter months spent in darkness, all travelers looked for that welcoming beacon: a light in the window. Relief poured through Julie as she realized that shelter was so near. She moved her dogs forward and then realized that the cabin she was nearing was her own home. The dogs began to yip and howl as Julie mushed them on. They were home at last!

  As Julie stopped in front of the cabin, two bundled forms made their way from one of the outbuildings. Vern and August Eriksson both motioned Julie to the house while they worked together to care for her dogs.

  August left Julie’s dogs to his father’s care and went to the stranger. He motioned him to follow Julie. The stranger pulled August to the sled basket and revealed his water-soaked dog. August nodded and pulled the dog into his arms. He moved quickly to the outbuilding where Julie knew her father kept the sick or weak dogs.

  The stranger reached into the sled basket, pulled a canvas pack out, and made his way toward the house. Julie went ahead of him and opened the door. A warm wave of air hit her eyes as she walked into the cabin. Quickly, she made her way to the fireplace.

  With no thought of the man behind her, Julie pulled off her heavy fur gloves and scarves. She pulled the parka over her head and tossed it to the floor. Thick black hair tumbled around her shoulders as Julie worked to loosen the laces of her mukluks. Kicking the heavy boots aside, she unfastened the catch on her sealskin pants and let them drop to the floor.

  Beneath her sealskin pants, Julie wore heavy denim jeans. She felt them to see if they were wet. Finding her pants in good shape, she straightened up, brushing back the hair from her face. Staring at her from across the room was the stranger.

  The shocked expression on the man’s face nearly caused Julie to laugh out loud. Her black eyes danced with amusement, and a grin formed at the corner of her lips.

  “I’m Julie Eriksson, and this is my home,” she offered, extending her hand. She immediately liked his rugged looks.

  The man broke into laughter as he took Julie’s hand. “I’ll be,” he said, and his shocked expression changed to admiration. “I must say that’s the first time a woman saved my life. I figured you were a man. I mean, well …”

  He fell silent as he dropped Julie’s hand. “Of course,” he murmured as he stepped back and allowed his eyes to travel the length of Julie’s slim frame, “that’s obviously not the case.”

  “I believe I owe you thanks as well,” Julie said, growing uncomfortable under the stranger’s scrutiny.

  “I think we’re more than even. By the way, I’m Sam Curtiss.”

  “Lucky Sam?” Julie questioned, remembering the nickname from things her brother had told her of his best friend.

  “The very same,” Sam said with a grin. “Although I think I owe my survival today to more than luck.”

  Julie nodded. “No doubt.”

  Sam shook his head. “So you’re August’s little sister,” he said as he took a seat and kicked off his boots.

  “I’m also a nurse,” Julie said, taking a step forward. “And as such, I know that you’re in danger of hypothermia. You should get out of those wet clothes and into something warm and dry.”

  Sam raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms against his chest. “Yes ma’am,” he said as he leaned back against the chair, “I’d say I owe this encounter to a great deal more than luck.”

  Chapter 3

  Sam refused to take his eyes off Julie while they waited for Vern and August to return from caring for the dogs. He was captivated by this woman as he’d never been by any other. She was so graceful and fluid in her motions, yet the knowledge that she had saved him out on the ice gave Sam a heartfelt respect for her.

  As Julie moved about the room and tried to avoid his gaze, Sam couldn’t help but smile. She was uncomfortable in his presence—that much was obvious—and Sam wondered why.

  Julie ignored Sam as she went about the cabin, reacquainting herself with the home she’d left so long ago. Vern and August, true to their Swedish ancestry, hadn’t changed things except to add a portrait of Julie that she’d mailed them while at school in Seattle.

  Julie circled the room, to
uching the things her mother had loved, cherishing the memory of days spent in her company. The house seemed empty without her. She grimaced as she remembered the day months earlier when the telegram had arrived. Because it was February, passage to Nome had been impossible.

  Julie blamed herself for not being at her mother’s side. Her schooling had been complete in time to return to Nome before ice isolated it from the rest of the world. But because Julie had decided to become a public health nurse, there were certain additional requirements she had to meet.

  When word reached her of her mother’s death, Julie had had no other choice but to stay on at least until April, when the ports reopened. By then, her mother’s body would have long since been cared for, so Julie decided to finish her government training and return in the fall as a fully certified public health nurse.

  Julie glanced up to find Sam’s eyes fixed on her. His presence made her feel awkward. For the last few years, Julie had spent most of her time with women. Outside of the men she’d helped care for, Julie hadn’t allowed herself the luxury of gentlemanly companionship.

  The silence grew unbearable, but just as Julie began to fear she’d have to start talking with Sam, the front door burst open in a flurry of snow and fur.

  “Father!” Julie ran across the room to embrace the elder Eriksson.

  “Julie, it’s so good to have you home. Let me look you over,” Vern said as he put his daughter at arm’s length. “You look more like your mother every day, God rest her soul. Of course, I see a bit of your grandmother Eriksson as well.”

  “Oh Father,” Julie said with a smile, “come get warm by the fire. Here, let me help you with your parka.”

  “You’re just like your mother. She was always fussing and worrying about me, even when she was …” Her father’s words trailed into silence.

  Julie took the parka as her father pulled it over his head. “Even when she was dying?” Julie finished her father’s words.

  “Yes.” Vern Eriksson seemed to age with the statement. “It hasn’t been a year, and it seems forever. Wish it didn’t have to be so for your homecoming.”