Yukon Queen The Read online

  As they rode behind the buggy, the two men discovered that they had much more in common than either had expected. Both were young, restless, and filled with some sort of rebellious spirit that would not let them rest. Finally they approached a large white house behind a long circular drive. Pulling their mounts to a stop, Aaron said, “That’s Belle Maison—you’ve never been there?”

  “Nope,” said Cass, taking in the impressive plantation spread out before him.

  “Well, it’s a fine place. Our aunt Patience married a Yankee, and to everyone’s surprise he turned out well. In fact, everybody in the country admires Thad Novak.” For a few moments they sat atop their horses in the drive as Aaron spoke of the home place, then he said, “Look, Cass, you and I, we can have some fun while you’re here. We’ll go into Richmond and paint the town red! I just paid my debts—so it’s time to run them up again.”

  “Hey, that’s good of you, Aaron!” Cass was feeling good, and as he dismounted and looked around at the magnificent plantation, he thought, I wish I never had to go back to herding cows again! Maybe I can get a job and stay here with Aaron!

  ****

  “Fasten me up, Thad—we’ve got to hurry!”

  Thad Novak had just tied his black bow tie after much effort. It was crooked and gave him a lopsided look, but he gave up on it and turned to Patience, who was struggling to button the back of her dress. It was a new dress made of muslin in a paisley pattern of coral and white, and she said with exasperation, “It’s too young for an old woman like me!”

  “Yep, you’re an old relic, you are,” Thad grinned. Stepping behind her he fastened the remaining buttons, then turned her around and put his arms around her. “Mrs. Methuselah—all of fifty-one years old.” He studied her carefully, then said, “I’d better get a wheelchair to get you down the stairs.”

  “Oh, you fool!” Patience had to laugh. She kissed him lightly, then stood back to look at him critically. She had practically forced him to buy new clothes for the reunion and now gave him her full attention. “You know, for an old fellow of fifty-five, you’re not a bad-looking man.” Thad was wearing loose-cut fawn-colored trousers and a brown brocaded waistcoat. He had a tucked shirt with a detachable collar, a new invention which he hated! Patience reached up and straightened his tie, then said, “You look very nice.” A pixieish expression filled her dark blue eyes, and she added, “If you drop dead from fright while making your speech, we won’t have to do a thing to you—except put a lily in your hand!”

  “Pet! What a thing to say!” Thad whirled her around and gave her a resounding slap on the bottom. When she yelped and begged for mercy, he turned her back around, and she saw a troubled expression clouding his dark, wedge-shaped face. “Pet, you may be right. I’d rather face a firing squad than try to make a speech.”

  “You’ll do fine, Thad. After all, you are the master of Belle Maison.” Seeing his agitation, Patience took his hands in hers and looked him squarely in the eyes and said, “If it hadn’t been for you after the war, we’d have lost it all. The Winslows are forever in your debt for hanging on to our heritage.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Thad muttered. He had married Pet and thrown himself into the work of bringing the plantation through reconstruction. It had been a grueling task, for the North had imposed harsh measures in the South after the death of Lincoln. The Winslow men had scattered, going out to make their way in the world. They had all done well, he reflected. “But Mark is the oldest son—and a success, too. Vice-president of a railroad and all. And Davis, president of a college.” Thad shook his head, ticking off the Winslows. “And Tom, a colonel, and Dan owns a big ranch. They’re all somebodies—”

  “Stop that, you hear me, Thad!” Pet’s eyes narrowed and she shook him almost violently. “They’re successful and we’re proud for them. But you’re the one who stayed here and poured your life into this place. I’m proud to be a Winslow—but I’m even more proud to be Pet Novak!”

  Thad blinked in surprise. He had always been in awe of this family. In fact, in many ways he felt himself inferior to the colorful Winslow siblings. Thad stared at his wife for a long moment, then said huskily, “Well—I’m glad to hear you say that, Pet. I—I was feeling pretty doggone common.”

  “Nonsense! Now, let’s round up all our branch of Winslows.” She laughed suddenly, adding, “My brothers and my sister may be famous—but we’re more successful than any of them at the one thing that counts.” When he gave her a quizzical look, she punched him in the side, saying, “We’ve got as fine a crop of children as any of them—and grandchildren, too! Now—let’s go roust them out!”

  They left at once, recruiting Sam, their oldest son. “You’ll have to help with the grandchildren, Sam,” Pet said instantly. “If you won’t marry and have children of your own, you’ll have to help with the brats of others.”

  Sam Novak was a slight young man, dark featured as was his father. He was thirty and had never married. At the age of seven he had announced that he intended to be a minister. As he matured into a young man, he had remained true to his calling. He had become a successful evangelist but now was bound for the mission fields in China.

  “Well, I’ll whip the rascals if they need it,” he shrugged. “You look like an actress, Mama,” he added, a droll light in his brown eyes. “Vanity, vanity! I’m shocked to see my own mother giving in to such things.”

  “Wouldn’t hurt you to dress up, Sam,” Thad put in. He was tremendously proud of this son of his but covered this up by such remarks. “You look like you’re going out to pick cotton.”

  “I’m hoping to shame the rest of you into more sedate dress.” He eyed his father, then said, “You do look nice, though.”

  “Go help Helen. She’ll never get those children dressed in time.”

  “All right. What about Lee and Sarah?”

  “I’ll take care of them—you go on.”

  Sam moved along the hall and banged on a door at the end. When it opened, he said, “Hello, Charles. Mama sent me down to help with the kids.”

  Charles Patterson was the husband of Sam’s sister, Helen. He was a successful lawyer, but not particularly good with children. He stood there rubbing his wild thatch of reddish hair for a moment, then grinned. “I can handle a judge and a jury, but your sister and our children are much harder. Come on in, Sam. I’d appreciate the help.”

  When he entered, Sam was swarmed at once by David, age three, Ben, age five, and Leah, age eight. He threw himself into getting them dressed while carrying on a conversation with his brother-in-law at the same time. The children idolized him, and he loved them as if they were his own. Finally the inner door opened and Helen emerged. She was wearing a dress made of magenta silk satin overlaid with pink lace flounces. Over it she wore a stole of green satin, offset by white gloves. “Oh, Sam, you can’t wear those old clothes!”

  “If they’re good enough to preach in, I guess they’re good enough to eat dinner in.”

  “But—we’re going to have photographs made!”

  “Then they’ll show me as I am.” Sam grinned and grabbed Ben’s hand, pulling it out of his pocket. “You little pickpocket! Stop that!” He rose and said, “Well, I guess we better go.” He eyed Helen’s dress and grinned. “You look fine, sis. But that dress cost enough to send a preacher into the heart of China!”

  “I’ll give you the cost of it when you leave, Sam,” Charles said quickly. “I’m proud to have a missionary in the family.”

  They left and discovered that Thad and Patience had just managed to get their son Lee and his wife Sarah in motion. Lee was a tall man of twenty-eight with the strong Slavic features of his father. Sam spoke to him at once. “Ready for the session, Lee? Here, let me hold Corrie.” He reached out and took the one-year-old, and at once Maureen, who was three, put up such a howl to be held that he scooped her up in his free arm. “Now, hush, will you, sweetheart.”

  “Sam, you’re a natural-born father,” Lee said, winking at Charles. “I think you ought to marry a widow with six kids.”

  “Lee—don’t tell him that,” Sarah warned. She was a small, pretty woman with a wealth of auburn hair. “He’s so impressionable he just might go out and do it!”

  “You can talk later,” Thad broke in. As he looked over his family, a surge of pride rose in him. “Lord, there’s a bunch of us Novaks!”

  “Well—we’re not all here yet,” Lee grinned. He laughed aloud as everyone looked instantly at Sarah—who blushed richly. “Yep, got to repopulate the world, as the scripture says.”

  Thad and Patience gave each other a surprised look, then congratulated their son and his wife. As soon as Helen and Charles had done the same, Thad took a deep breath. “Well, God bless us every one, as Tiny Tim said. Now I’ll have something to say in this blasted speech.”

  “Pour it on, Pa,” Sam grinned. “Before we leave, let me take up a collection for Chinese missions!”

  “I’ll do it!” Thad nodded emphatically. “Now, let’s get down there—I can’t wait to hear what I’ve got to say!”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Out of the Past

  “We had some good times in this room when we were growing up, didn’t we, Tom?”

  Tom Winslow cast a quick glance around the ballroom that had been decorated for the Christmas holidays. It was a large room that took up half of the lower floor of Belle Maison. It was thirty feet wide and nearly sixty feet long, with tall windows that allowed bars of pale sunlight to enter. “Sure did, Mark. I wonder how many of those girls we romanced in here still remember us?”

  Mark laid his glance on this younger brother of his, admiring the erect, strong figure that years in the saddle had produced. A thought came to him and he smiled. “Remember Lily Beaufort, Tom?”

  “I sure do,” Tom said ruefully. “You and I nearly knocked each other’s teeth out over that wench!”

  “I hurt for a week,” Mark said softly, letting the memory run through him. “It was right out there, wasn’t it—just past the big elm? But just think, Tom, Lily’s a grandmother now, a white-haired old lady—not the saucy young woman she was back before the war.”

  “That’s right, isn’t it, Mark? Hard to think of her like that. Well, we’re all getting older. Those days seem almost like a dream now. But God’s been good to us. I don’t know any other family with three boys in the Confederate Army who didn’t lose at least one.” He glanced over toward where his wife, Faith, was sitting with their married daughter Laurie. “Good to have grandchildren, Mark. Laurie and Cody have been a real joy to Faith and me.”

  As the two men spoke of days long gone by, from across the room, Sam Novak came to stand beside Cody Rogers and his wife, Laurie. Cody looked young for his years, his blond hair still long as it had been years earlier when the three of them had traveled with Buffalo Bill Cody’s Wild West Show. “Been a long time since our days on the road with Colonel Cody,” he said. “You two like to go back to show business?”

  “I’ve got all I can do to handle Bill and Annie,” Laurie said at once. At the age of thirty-one she was almost as slim as she’d been when she was a trick rider. She hugged the two children who stood with her, then remarked, “I hear you’re going to China as a missionary, Sam. I think that’s fine!”

  “Be a little more exciting than a Wild West Show,” Cody grinned. There was a grace about him as he spoke. “Watch out for wild animals.”

  The three stood there for a time, and finally Sam said, “How do you divide the kids up among the grandparents?” When they stared at him, he laughed. “Well, you have two sets claiming them, don’t you? How do you settle it?” He referred to the fact that Laurie was the daughter of Tom Winslow by his first wife, while Cody was the son of Hope Winslow by her first husband.

  “We let both sides spoil them to the limit, Sam,” Cody grinned. “We do have a time trying to explain it all to strangers. I reckon they think Laurie and me are living in sin or something—wait a minute, I think Thad’s about to wind himself up for his speech. Here, you, Bill, and Annie—sit down with me and your mother!”

  As Thad stood up, there was a scurrying around as those who were standing and talking found their places. He waited until they were all seated, then started to speak—but a loud voice called out, “We’re ready, Thad—turn your wolf loose!”

  Everyone laughed, and Thad scowled at Aaron, who grinned back at him. “If you’re all through with your rude remarks, Aaron,” he said firmly, “I’ll ask you all to keep still. I’m as nervous as an old maid on a Mississippi River gambling boat as it is!”

  Mark spoke up at once. “Let’s have a little respect for the master of Belle Maison!” Applause punctuated his remark, and he sat back, saying, “Go to it, Thad!”

  “Well, I wish you were making this speech, Mark,” Thad said slowly. “You’re the oldest son of Sky Winslow—and when I finish my few remarks, you’ve got to come and give us a real speech.” Thad took a deep breath, then continued, “The first time I came to this place—Belle Maison—I was unconscious. I’d nearly froze to death, and if it hadn’t been for a big slave named Toby I would have died. . . .”

  For the next twenty minutes Thad related the story of how he’d come to Virginia as a poor boy and had become a part of Sky Winslow’s family. He was not a public speaker, but as he told the story, including how the war had decimated the South, all of the older Winslows felt drawn into the simple history. Finally Thad said, “I guess the best thing that ever happened to me was to come to this place and be a part of the Winslow family. I’m proud of you all!”

  He sat down and applause rocked the room. Thad’s face reddened and Pet clung to his arm fiercely. “You did fine! Real fine, Thad!”

  Mark rose and stood for a moment looking around at the familiar faces turned toward him. “Back in the days when I was helping build the Union Pacific across this country, I never thought I’d be standing here looking at all the Winslow clan. . . .” He spoke clearly, a big man with rock-solid purpose in every word and deed. He outlined the history of the family, not leaving a one out, and concluded by saying, “One thing I want to give you today. I want to read a passage from an old book—most of you have it, I think.” He picked up a thin book bound in black leather and held it gently in his big hands. “The Journal of Gilbert Winslow,” he said quietly. “He was one of those who came to this land to find something better. Those of you who’ve read his journal know he wasn’t a man of faith when he left England—but you will remember that he found God. I want to read you what he wrote when his life was nearly over. He was one of those arrested and tried during the Salem witchcraft trials. When he wrote this passage, he was sick and dying.” Opening the book, Mark began to read:

  May 6, 1692. When I left England years ago, I did not expect to die in a prison, nor did I expect to be charged with witchcraft. But God is in all things, and He knew about this before I boarded the Mayflower. I am glad that my dear wife, Humility, has gone to be with Jesus, for though I can endure this place, it would have broken my heart to see her suffer! Hard enough for me to see my son, Matthew, and his wife in this place.

  The executions continue. We got word this morning that Giles Corey, that saintly old man! was pressed to death last night. They piled huge stones on him, and when they commanded him to confess that he was in league with the devil—he whispered, “More weight!” He was a fearsome man, Giles Corey, and is now in the arms of Jesus.

  I have been praying that Matthew and Lydia will be spared, but as for me, the martyr’s crown does not seem so frightening now as it did when I was younger. Now I would wish that my descendants would be men and women of faith and courage.

  My hand trembles so that I cannot write—but if any of my name read this in some far-off time, let me beg you a favor. If life presses you, and you are tempted to weaken and give up your faith—remember Giles Corey! Cry out when life puts heavy burdens on you, “More weight!” That would please God—and it would please your ancestor—Gilbert Winslow.

  Mark closed the book and looked out over the still faces. He saw tears in his wife’s eyes, and she was not alone in the emotion that swept over those gathered in the ballroom. “No one could say it better than that, I think. And now, let me follow the biblical pattern and call the roll of the House of Winslow:

  Gilbert begat Matthew,

  And Matthew begat Miles,

  And Miles begat Adam,

  And Adam begat Nathan,

  And Nathan begat Christmas,

  And Christmas begat Sky,

  And Sky begat the five of us you see here.”

  Mark motioned to his sisters and brothers, intoning, “Sky Winslow begat Mark—and Thomas—and Daniel—and Belle—and Patience . . .

  “I wish our father and mother—”

  “Hold on there!”

  Mark was startled by a rasping voice that cut across the room and turned at once, along with everyone else in the room, to see a man standing just inside the double doors. Blinking with anger, Mark said, “Sir, this is a private meeting. Please have the courtesy to take yourself outside!”

  The newcomer was an elderly man, evidenced by his long, scraggly white hair and his weathered wrinkled face. He was stooped and thin, but his eyes were bright blue as they met those of Mark. He was wearing a worn brown coat that was too large for him and a pair of shapeless black pants stuffed into a pair of cowhide boots with run-over heels. He clutched a scruffy wide-brimmed hat in one hand and peered from under bushy white brows around the room, seemingly pleased by the disturbance he had created.

  Mark cleared his throat and glanced toward Tom and Dan for support. “Old timer, my brothers will show you out. I’ll be glad to talk to you—”