Mystery at Chilkoot Pass (Mysteries through History) Read online

  “Should we have a bite of lunch even though it’s early?” Mrs. V asked. “I was too excited to eat breakfast.”

  Sarah helped Mrs. V set out some cold bacon and tortillas, along with a handful of dried peaches each. “I’m going to build a tiny fire,” Sarah said. “A cup of tea will make us all feel wonderful for the afternoon’s walk.”

  “She makes the trail seem like a stroll in the park, doesn’t she, Hetty?” Alma whispered. “Maybe when we get to know her—”

  “Maybe.” Hetty stopped Alma from saying that they’d like Sarah Lancaster better.

  A light rain started to fall that afternoon and worsened the next day. With the wet weather, it took them three days, even longer than they’d thought, to get to Finnegans Point. Each night, they’d been almost too tired to set up their tents, eat, and crawl into bed. “We’ll get used to it,” Uncle Donall had said, but instead of agreement, he got groans in response.

  By the time they’d hauled everything to Finnegans Point, they were so tired and sore that Uncle Donall and Papa decided they ought to rest for a couple of days. All of them realized that they weren’t going to get to Chilkoot Pass quickly, maybe not even in a month. Papa admitted he hadn’t carried more than a notebook for years, and although Uncle Donall didn’t say so, Hetty figured he hadn’t carried more than a pack of cards.

  Hetty and Alma helped Mrs. V set up camp, and then Mrs. V sent them to look for firewood. Trees surrounded the tent city of Finnegans Point, but all the dead logs and branches had been cut and gathered.

  “We’re going to have to walk farther into the woods,” Alma said, “and none of the wood we find will be dry.”

  “I just want to lie down and sleep for a couple of days,” Hetty said, groaning, “but I guess if we want supper, we’d better find some firewood.”

  Clouds lowered and it got dark and cold, but after a good dinner, everyone felt better. Several people stopped to see if Mrs. Vasquez was selling meals. “Not this time,” she answered with a smile.

  “Ah, the beautiful lady cook.” Andy Nickerson showed up, carrying his own tin cup of tea, looking for company—maybe only the company of Mrs. Vasquez. Moosejaw said that “by luck” he had camped nearby.

  “Let’s go look around the town,” Hetty whispered to Alma, not knowing if Mrs. V would tell them it wasn’t safe to do so. Hetty hoped Mrs. V would be distracted enough not to notice if they left.

  “I’ll go with you,” Sarah Lancaster whispered. She jumped up, a shawl tied over her hat to keep it dry, another pulled tight around her shoulders. “Donnie has slipped off without me. Maybe I’ll find him if we look around.”

  Donnie? Hetty realized that she meant Uncle Donall. She had never heard anyone call him that, and she felt a smile creep over her face as Sarah said it.

  Hetty would rather have gone alone with Alma, but the three set off toward the twenty or so permanent tents and buildings that made up the town.

  “Look, there are the Jacobsons,” Alma said. “I wonder if they got here before we did.”

  Alma and Hetty waved at the family, who were still eating supper around their campfire. Eddie jumped up, but his mother pushed him back down. Maybe he’d come find them later.

  Near the edge of town, they came across a woman, hands on her hips, staring at an enormous pile of barrels and crates. “That snake. That low-bellied snake!” the woman swore.

  “What’s the matter?” Sarah Lancaster asked.

  “The matter is that I hired a man to take my things over the pass to Lake Lindeman, where I had a boat waiting to ferry them to Dawson. Now I find them dumped and abandoned here.” She pressed her lips into a thin line. “I paid that swindler four thousand dollars. He took my money but apparently had no intention of doing the job.”

  “What’s in all these crates?” asked Sarah.

  “Fine linens, curtains and bedding, crystal glasses and china dishes. I plan to build a hotel in Dawson.” The woman muttered as she looked into a trunk that was open. Then she turned back to them and held out her hand. “I’m sorry, this is none of your fault. I’m Belinda Mulrooney.”

  Hetty saw that Miss Mulrooney was well dressed in a riding skirt and boots, a warm jacket with a sheepskin collar, leather gloves, and a wool hat. Her face held a look of determination that set her apart from most women Hetty had seen on the trip.

  “By heavens, I won’t be swindled! I’m going to find that no-good packer and get my money back! Would you mind watching my things while I go into town and find a reliable person to guard my belongings for a day or two?”

  “We’d be glad to,” Hetty said. They watched the woman stomp off toward the restaurant and saloon.

  “I want to see what she’s brought,” Sarah said the minute Belinda Mulrooney disappeared.

  “I don’t think we should.” Hetty was curious, too, but she felt they should ask Miss Mulrooney first.

  Sarah ignored Hetty. “Won’t hurt. We’re doing her a favor. Come on.”

  Sarah led them to the open trunk. Inside were stacks of crisp white linen tablecloths and napkins. In a corner of each napkin, someone had embroidered a very fancy M. Despite herself, Hetty ran her fingers over the satiny embroidery. She watched Sarah Lancaster look to see if any other crate had broken open. Maybe Sarah was just a very curious person, Hetty thought. She let curiosity take first place over privacy.

  “I’m going to find Donall,” Sarah said suddenly. “Are you two afraid to stay here by yourself?”

  “Of course not,” Hetty answered. She sat on a big rock beside Alma.

  Darkness surrounded them and a thick, cottony fog crept in. Music from the small tent town drifted back to where the girls sat. Wood smoke filled the night air. Occasionally they heard someone laughing or calling out to another.

  When Miss Mulrooney returned, she thanked them and invited them to stay at her hotel when she got it finished.

  “We will. Good luck.” Hetty and Alma ran back to their camp. Mr. Jacobson and Papa sat by the fire discussing a book they’d both read before they left California. Ordinarily, Hetty would have stopped to listen, but tonight she ducked into her tent, since she wanted to write in her journal.

  Mrs. V was already bundled into her blankets and asleep when Hetty and Alma slipped in. In the dark, Hetty hurried to undress, then pulled her flannel nightgown over her long underwear. She took off her locket and placed it beside her bedroll. Finally, she lit a candle, took out her journal, and began to write.

  So far I have met two women who are making this trip alone. Never would I have thought that possible. I’m not sure I like Sarah Lancaster, but look how independent she is. I’m beginning to think she joined us only because she likes Uncle Donall. She didn’t need us at all. She just wanted to spend more time with him.

  Belinda Mulrooney is the most determined woman I have ever met. She is starting a hotel in Dawson by herself ! And what did she decide to do when someone robbed and cheated her? She is going to take off on her horse and find him!

  Hetty smiled in the dark. Belinda Mulrooney’s determination had rubbed off on her. She hoped that, after a good night’s sleep, they’d get back on the trail, too. She fingered her pencil a moment, then added a few last lines.

  Now I’m going to write something that is too strange to tell anyone, even Alma. Inside, way deep inside, I feel a tiny fire growing bigger and bigger, as if the flame is being fed by meeting these determined women. I can climb this mountain. I can be a writer. I believe I can do anything I want to do.

  Hetty closed her journal and laid her pencil and locket on top of it. She was almost too excited to sleep, but finally she drifted off.

  The next morning, she was awakened by the sounds of dogs barking, people shouting to each other, someone chopping wood. She sat up, wide awake. The tent was dim and shadowy. Sarah and Alma were still asleep, but Mrs. V’s bed was empty. Hetty reached for her pencil, a new thought in her head. Holding the pencil in her mouth, she felt for her locket.

  Her locket! Fran
tically she searched under her journal, in her blankets, around her heap of clothing. Her locket was gone!

  CHAPTER 5

  MORE IS MISSING

  As Hetty got dressed, she shook her clothes and searched the folds of her blanket. She couldn’t lose her picture of Mama! She bit her lip and held back tears. Tears never helped. She’d find the locket. She had had it last night. It must be here someplace. No one would steal it. It wasn’t worth a lot of money, and besides, a thief would have had to sneak into their tent last night to take it, risk waking them all. It didn’t make sense.

  Hetty glanced at the sleeping Sarah and a memory surfaced. It’s just stuff—that was Sarah’s attitude toward trinkets like her locket. But the picture of her mother wasn’t just stuff!

  Hetty grabbed one of her blankets, wrapped it around her like a shawl, and stepped out of the tent. The sky was just getting light.

  Mrs. Vasquez had a fire going, but she hadn’t started breakfast. She sat, huddled and wrapped in her own blanket, her hands around a cup of tea. Hetty sat down close beside her.

  “Have you seen my locket, Mrs. V? I can’t find it anywhere.” Hetty touched the hollow of her neck where the silver heart had always hung.

  “I haven’t, Hetty.” Mrs. V filled Hetty’s cup full of steaming tea, then placed her arm around Hetty’s shoulders and hugged her close. “I was going to ask you if you’d seen my brooch. Maybe I was foolish to wear it on the trail, but my husband gave it to me, and I’ve been missing him. It was just a glass gewgaw, but I liked it.”

  “Do you—do you think someone could have taken them? It’s too much of a coincidence to think we both lost jewelry at the same time.” Hetty pulled her blanket tighter against the cold.

  Mrs. V started to cry softly. “Oh, Hetty, it’s not just jewelry that’s missing. Half my money is gone, the half I had hidden in the rice bag.”

  Hetty tried to take in what Mrs. V was saying, but the news only got worse.

  “I can’t go on, Hetty. I can’t earn another five hundred dollars. Alma and I are going to turn back.”

  “But—Alma—I can’t go on without Alma. We’ve been best friends forever. And I—I can’t leave you.” To her dismay, Hetty started to cry. She set down the cup of tea and sobbed into her wadded-up blanket.

  When she finally got control, she wiped her eyes, took a sip of tea, and looked up to see Papa and Uncle Donall walking from their tent toward the fire. Papa buttoned his big coat and Uncle Donall blew on his hands and rubbed them together.

  “Hetty, sweetheart, why are you crying? Is it too cold for you?” Uncle Donall asked. “Here, snuggle by me and get warm.” He sat down by Hetty and hugged her. Somehow his concern made things just that much worse.

  “Mrs. Vasquez—Alma—they’re not going any farther.” Hetty sobbed out the news.

  “Maria?” Papa asked. “You’re giving up? That’s not like you. What’s wrong?”

  Mrs. Vasquez sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I’m a fool, Glen. Someone has robbed me again. Half the money I made at the tent restaurant in Dyea is gone.”

  Hetty still couldn’t believe it. “You hid it so well, Mrs. V I saw you hide it. How could someone find it in the—”

  “I don’t know, Hetty.”

  “Was there any time last night when we were all gone, when a thief could have come into the tent?” Hetty asked.

  Uncle Donall finished his cup of coffee, hugged Hetty again, and stood up. “Maybe you’re mistaken, Maria. Look again. I’m sure you’ll find it.” He ran his hands through his curly hair to comb it and walked away from them toward the restaurant and saloon.

  Hetty watched him go. Uncle Donall was acting strange. An idea ran through her mind before she could stop it. Could he have taken Mrs. Vasquez’s money?

  Before her mother had died, she had taught Hetty about handling the family’s money. “Your papa can’t manage money, Hetty. You’re going to have to do it when I’m gone. And be careful of your Uncle Donall. He has a way of charming money out of your papa and sometimes even me. He’s a sweet, dear man, but he’s irresponsible. Your papa has spoiled him since he was a little boy.”

  Occasionally Uncle Donall had charmed Hetty out of money. He always promised to pay it back. Sometimes he did, but more often he forgot. Once she had noticed a few dollars missing from her hiding place, but several days later, just when she was set to accuse him of stealing, he came dancing into the house with a bouquet of flowers, a bag of her favorite hard candy, and the money he’d “borrowed.” The cards had gone his way the night before.

  “Papa.” Hetty kept her voice low while Mrs. Vasquez started breakfast. “You know how easy it is to find a card game. Do you think Uncle Donall—”

  “Of course not, Hetty. I’ll not have you thinking that.” Papa turned to Mrs. Vasquez. “Maria, I believe I have enough money for us all. Please continue on with us. We need you and Alma on this trip.”

  Papa patted his waist. “I’m wearing all of my money, Maria. Maybe that’s what you should do from now on.”

  Sarah Lancaster stepped out of the tent, sticking a pin in her big hat. True to her wager, she hadn’t taken off her hat except to sleep. “What are you talking about so early in the morning? Is that tea, Mrs. Vasquez? Could I trouble you for a cup? Maybe it will help me wake up. Goodness, Donnie and I were playing cards till so late last night. I’m afraid Donnie was losing most of the evening, but I did rather well.” Sarah looked around. “Where is Donnie? Is he still asleep?”

  “He already left. He was heading toward town.” Hetty couldn’t believe that Sarah Lancaster had been out playing cards and gambling with Uncle Donall. Mama had always said such behavior was unladylike, but maybe the ladies on Nob Hill thought otherwise.

  “I’m going to find him.” Sarah jumped up. “I’ll have breakfast in town, Mrs. Vasquez. Don’t go to any trouble for me or Donnie.”

  “It’s hard to dislike that woman,” Mrs. Vasquez said, as soon as Sarah Lancaster was gone. “She and Donall make a handsome pair, don’t they?”

  Hetty had to admit that they did, but somehow both of them worried her. Without thinking, Hetty reached up to rub her locket. Then she remembered it was gone. Somehow not having it around her neck made her feel as though she’d lost her mother all over again.

  Later that morning, with the sun trying to burn through a foggy haze, Mrs. Vasquez told Papa she’d take him up on his offer to help her. But she promised to pay him back once they found gold.

  At dinner that night, Papa and Mr. Jacobson decided they could make better time if they all teamed up together. Sarah had heard the trail got steeper, so she and Mrs. V sold their carts to people who were giving up, returning to Dyea. Now all of them would have to carry backpacks with heavy loads.

  Andy Nickerson said he’d go on to Pleasant Camp, the next stopping place, and save some good camping sites. He didn’t have as much to carry, since he’d left most of his things in Dawson and had come to Dyea only to replenish his food. Hetty knew he could have been across the pass already, but he seemed to be looking after them.

  Back on the trail the next morning, Alma and Hetty walked slowly side by side, with people bumping and jostling as they hurried around them. Hetty watched them but hardly saw individuals, her mind still puzzling over who could have taken the money and jewelry. She told Alma that she suspected Uncle Donall had taken the money, but he surely wouldn’t have taken her locket with Mama’s picture.

  “I think Eddie Jacobson took your locket,” Alma said. “He told us his mother’s birthday was coming up. And you heard him mention that she always wanted a necklace like that. He could have slipped into our tent at night. They were camping near us. Maybe he took the money too.”

  “I remember Eddie admiring my locket. I thought it was strange for a boy to notice jewelry.” Hetty chewed on her lip. “But I like Eddie. I hate to think he’d steal from us. Besides, it wouldn’t make sense for Eddie to give my locket to his mother for a birthday present. As soon as she saw it, she�
�d recognize it as mine.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. I guess you’re right, but still, we should keep an eye on Eddie. We don’t know him very well.”

  They stopped to rest, since Papa had warned them that the hardest climb of the morning was coming up. Hetty shifted and adjusted her pack, trying to get comfortable—if that was possible.

  The Dyea River had cut a deep bed through the sand and gravel. On both sides of the narrow river valley, snow had melted, then turned to ice. Rock, encased in ice, rose up all around them. The trees seemed taller than any they had seen.

  They made such slow progress—carrying, stopping, carrying, stopping—that Hetty wondered if they’d ever reach tonight’s campsite. Cold rain kept falling. Everything was wet, and everyone was wet and cold and tired, so Hetty kept her misery to herself. She couldn’t help but think that nothing had felt right since her locket disappeared.

  Rain turned to snow. A coating of white covered rocks and driftwood, making it hard to know where to step. Picking out each place to put her foot made for slow, miserable progress. Once Hetty fell when her foot slid off a rock. She couldn’t get up until she tugged off her heavy backpack. Alma helped her put it back on. Hetty was so tired, she fought to keep back tears, but she and Alma kept going.

  “Look, Hetty, the sun is coming out at last,” Alma said. “And see, up ahead, Mama and the others have stopped for lunch. Mrs. Jacobson and Rosie are there, too. Come on.” Alma hurried ahead, and the thought of food made Hetty catch her breath and follow.

  After the meal, Alma, Hetty, Mrs. V, and Mrs. Jacobson stayed at the lunch spot to guard the supplies and rest. Everyone else had grabbed a bite of food and hurried back to Finnegans Point for the last loads.

  Sun melted the snow off huge boulders. The rocks made a good place to sit and daydream. Glaciers, huge slabs of ice and snow, hung on the mountain not far from the trail. Hetty wondered if they ever turned loose and crashed down. Rosie had fallen asleep, so Hetty and Alma amused themselves by watching the never-ending line of people walking by Hetty got her journal from the top of her pack and wrote about some of the Klondikers they had met along the trail.