Here was her husband-to-be.
Lana grabbed the rail for support as she nearly tripped down the last stair.
It seemed as if the entire hotel staff and guests had turned out for the occasionâthe parlor was filled with peering eyes. Lana felt very much on display, even here among strangers. Mack was rightâsheâd never have survived this charade in the middle of Treasure Creek.
âYouâre a fine sight,â he said as she stepped onto the parlor rug. His voice was tight and unsteady.
âYou cut a fine figure yourself,â she managed, then gulped at how foolish the words sounded. He really had surprised her, however. In all the muddy making-do of Treasure Creek, sheâd completely forgotten the way he could command a room when formally dressed. Half her bridesmaids had swooned over him at her wedding. Her first wedding.
Stop that. You canât think about that now. This is a new life.
ALASKAN BRIDES: Women of the Gold Rush find that love is the greatest treasure of all.
Yukon WeddingâAllie Pleiter, April 2011
Enthusiastic but slightly untidy mother of two, RITA>® Award finalist Allie Pleiter writes both fiction and nonfiction. An avid knitter and unreformed chocoholic, she spends her days writing books, drinking coffee and finding new ways to avoid housework. Allie grew up in Connecticut, holds a B.S. in Speech from Northwestern University and spent fifteen years in the field of professional fundraising. She lives with her husband, children and a Havanese dog named Bella in the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois.
Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
âMatthew 6:18â21
Treasure Creek, Alaska, June 1898
Mack Tanner looked up to see a raging storm coming toward him.
âGood morning,â said the storm, otherwise known as Lana Bristow. Each syllable of her greeting was sharp and steely. She stood in that particular way he called her âspeechifyingâ stance, which heralded an oncoming verbal assault. Mack spread his own feet, not particularly eager to endure whatever was coming in front of the half dozen gold rush stampeders heâd managed to hire off the Chilkoot Trail to build his new General Store.
Lanaâs blond hair was a nest of frayed locks, strands sticking wildly out of the careful twist she usually wore. Her apron hung diagonally across that impossibly tiny waist of hers, with a wide smear of something dark that matched the smudge currently gracing her son Georgieâs chin. The brooch she always wore at her neckâthat silly, frilly flower thing with all the golden swirls on itâwas gone. It was held bent and misshapen, he noticed with a gulp, in her left hand, while she clamped two-yearold Georgie to one hip with her right. One side of her hem was soaked and the boy sported only one shoe.
More was amiss than the argument heâd had with her last night, that was certain. Theyâd gone at it again regarding Lanaâs accounts. Her mounting debts had been a constant sore spot between them since her husband, JedâMackâs best friendâhad died in the Palm Sunday avalanche. Sheâd caught him monkeying with her store credit again, giving her more than what she paid for and âmisplacingâ numerous bills. And yes, Mack had taken it upon himself to slash her debt so that no one in Treasure Creek would guess the sorry state of her finances.
He owed her that much.
She didnât see it that way.
Instead, his âgenerosityâ made her furious. Why that confounding woman wouldnât let him settle things up for herâwhen she needed it and he had the resources to easily do soânever ceased to amaze him.
Lana stood stiff and tall. âI have something to say.â
Mack could have been blind, deaf, half asleep and still have picked up on that. Every inch of her body broadcast âI have something to say.â A low commentary grumble to that effect rippled through the men around him until Mack raised his handâthe one with the large hammer still in itâto silence them.
Not taking his eyes off her, Mack shifted his weight and nodded slowly. For a moment he considered motioning her toward a less public place, seeing as this was no doubt going to be a long âsomething to say,â but the flash of fire in her blue eyes told him to stay put. He had the odd sensation of facing a firing squad.