and Jacob scrambled from his covers. He checked Donald. Several times in the night, he’d risen to tend the man, who rested quietly at the moment. A quick glance at his pocket watch, where he’d left it on a small table by his makeshift bed, revealed it was—
He grabbed his watch and held it to his ear. Yes, it ticked. He wound it to make sure. Four in the morning, and yet the racket outside gave him reason to think it was high noon. One voice called, “Right there is good, boys.” It sounded as if the speaker was only a few feet away. A crash fairly rocked him where he stood. Burns grunted and rolled to his side. Donald started, moaned and sank back into oblivion.
Jacob took a moment to smooth his hair. His chin was rough with whiskers. At some point he needed to shave. But first he had to find out the cause of the commotion outside. He pushed aside the tent flap and slapped at the cloud of mosquitoes attacking him.
A handful of men, nudging each other and jeering, stood watching two people struggle with armloads of lumber.
“Frankie, hang on. It ain’t that heavy,” one of the wood-toting persons called.
“You wait until I get a good hold, and don’t drop it without telling me. You left me holding the whole thing,” Frankie sputtered as he rubbed his palm.
“Daylight is wasting.” The second person tapped a mud-covered boot and glanced at the sky, as if to suggest the sun was crossing the sky at a furious pace.
“You tell ’er, Margie,” one sunburned man yelled.
This was a woman? And Frankie, too? The women Mack had said would help? Jacob took a good look at the pair. Both had dark, short hair—or at least what he could see of it, hidden by knitted caps, suggested so. Both dressed in plaid jackets that seemed to be uniform for both native Alaskans and the bulk of the outsiders. And both stood with feet planted a good width apart.
“You gonna take that from your sister, Frankie?” another spectator called. “Come on, show her who’s boss.”
Plainly, the onlookers hoped to see a fight between the two. In fact, he figured the men itched to get a good brawl going. Jacob took a step forward, hoping to prevent such a thing.
The one called Frankie closed the distance separating her from her sister, her expression dark and forbidding.
The men cheered.
Frankie stood in front of her sister and planted her hands on her hips.
The cheering intensified.
Jacob held his breath, wondering if he’d be handing out dressings in the place of his future clinic.
Both women let out a whoop that sent shudders down Jacob’s spine and, laughing uproariously, threw their arms around each other, administering vigorous back pats.
The crowd muttered their disappointment and most of them moved off to attend to their own affairs. That’s when he saw the Indian woman again. Teena Crow, she had said was her name. Her dark eyes watched him with unwavering purpose. I will help you. You will help me. His face felt brittle. His eyes stung as he silently signaled his determination. It would not happen. He had come to provide scientific medical care. He tipped his chin in a gesture that said he wanted her to leave. She held his gaze without a flicker of concern.
Frankie and Margie watched the silent exchange. Then one stepped forward. “Margie Tucker at your service. Mack said you wanted someone to put up a building. This here is my sister, Frankie. She might lend a hand if she can manage to hold up her end.”
He shook hands with the pair. “Appreciate your help.” He glanced toward the last place he’d seen Teena. Only to check that she’d left, he assured himself. She was indeed gone. He glimpsed her heading down the trail leading over the mountain, her graceful gait unmistakable even at this distance. He felt satisfied she had moved on, though somewhat disquieted—only because he’d been rude. Out of necessity, he firmly explained to himself. He turned back to Margie. “I’ve got a young man with me who will assist you.” He would pay Burns to work. Perhaps it would provide incentive for him to stay in Treasure Creek, rather than heading to the gold fields.
“The more the merrier. ’Specially as our younger sister seems more interested in her new husband than in giving us a hand.” Margie’s words growled out, making it sound as if having a husband was worse than having the plague. She turned to Frankie. “Why’d you let her up and marry Caleb anyways?”
Frankie sputtered. “I tried to convince her no Tucker woman needs a man, but you saw how stubborn she was.”
Margie and Frankie rolled their heads and scratched their hairlines in mutual sadness.
Then Margie laughed. “We’ll be glad of your friend’s help. It’ll make the job go faster, too. Now show us what you have in mind, so we can get to work while the sun shines.” She roared with amusement.
Seeing his surprised and somewhat stunned reaction, she patted his shoulder. “My idea of a little joke. In the summer we have no shortage of sun.” She slapped at the mosquitoes. “Nor these little blighters. You get yourself some of that stuff Teena Crow makes up. It helps keep them off.”
“I don’t want her around here.”
The pair gave each other a glance rife with secrets. “You got something against her?” Margie’s voice was soft, but Jacob didn’t miss the warning note.
Not knowing the situation well enough to venture too far, he heeded the warning. “I’m a medical doctor prepared to use my understanding of scientific principles to help people. That woman’s methods are based on superstition and—”
Margie nudged Frankie hard enough to cause her to stumble. “I think our city doctor will soon learn the difference between what matters and what doesn’t. Don’t you think so?”
Frankie guffawed. “There’s those that look only at the outside and judge. Don’t we know that?”
The pair slapped each other on the shoulders and laughed.
Margie grabbed some stakes. “Now, where do you want the building?”
He showed them what he had in mind and helped them stake the corners. When they finished, he went into the tent and nudged Burns from his sleep. Last night, when Jacob offered to pay him, the boy had eagerly agreed to assist with the construction.
“What’s wrong?” Burns mumbled, burrowing deeper into the comfort of his bed.
“I thought you wanted to help.” It was imperative to get the building up as soon as possible.
Burns groaned but made no move to rise.
“I can think of ways to make you get up.” Jacob stood over the boy, remembering the times he’d teased Aaron to get him out of bed. “I used to toss cold water in my brother’s face when he refused to wake.”
Burns squinted through one eye. “You wouldn’t.”
Jacob shrugged. “Not if you get up on your own.”
Burns moaned. “Is it even morning yet?”
“Open your eyes. Daylight is burning.”
A
