The Great Alone (65 page)

As he charged down the street, driven by anger, he tripped over a loose board and sprawled headlong onto the wooden sidewalk. A grunting oink came from the muddy street as a startled pig scrambled to its feet and trotted away, splashing through the wet mire. Shaken by the sudden fall, Gabe lay there for a minute trying to gather his scattered senses.

As he started to bring his legs under him and push himself upright, a rotten board cracked under his weight, nearly pitching him forward again. Regaining his feet, he roundly cursed the condition of the sidewalk.

Months ago people had stopped paying the taxes levied by the city to maintain such things as the boardwalk. Everyone knew the city didn’t have the legal right to levy taxes. Taxes couldn’t be levied unless the people voted for them, and they didn’t have the legal right to vote in this land. The city government, the town plat, property titles, mortgages—nothing was legal.

Signs of neglect and disrepair were everywhere, especially among the newer, shoddily constructed buildings that had been hastily erected to take advantage of that initial boom. The doors and windows of several were boarded up, crudely lettered with signs that stated closed or out of business. One said california here i come. Everywhere there was garbage, broken crates and staves, rusting barrel rings, and scraps of wet paper. There were more swine wallowing in the street’s muck than there were people moving about.

This filthy broken-down town was supposed to be the capital of Alaska someday. And he wanted to be governor of this pighole. As the realization hit him, Gabe started to laugh. It rolled from him, harder and harder, until he was forced to lean against the building behind him for support. Tears ran down his cheeks. He never knew when he stopped laughing and started crying.

For a long time after the sobbing ended, he stared brokenly at the town. Then he pushed away from the building and moved to the edge of the boardwalk. “Why?” he shouted. “We could have been something!”

Someone tugged at his coat sleeve. Gabe swung his head around to see who it was. A blanket-wrapped squaw from the Ranche hovered beside him, her dark eyes avidly watching him.

“Mister, you buy.” She held up some trinket for his inspection. “Sell cheap.”

“Get away from me.” He jerked his arm away from her.

But the Indian woman persisted, thrusting the trinket closer to his face. “Sell very cheap.”

“I said to get the hell away from me!” Angrily, he shoved her into the muddy street.

She slipped in the muck and fell, breaking the fall with her outstretched hand, but she lost her carved curio in the mud. She frantically searched for it, burying her hands in the chocolate mud and stirring them around in a desperate attempt to locate it. Gabe watched it all with contempt.

When she found it, she clutched it to her breast and looked back at him. Gabe stared at her round face. His wife had cheekbones like that. “Oh, my God,” he groaned and swung away from the sight, trying to deny it in his mind. Then he clamped his jaw tightly shut and gritted his teeth. The rage of betrayal and hate trembled through him.

With her cloak hung on the wall hook, Nadia moved away from the front door and slowly untied her bonnet. She removed it from her head and absently patted her hair back into its proper place.

Gabe had advised her not to go to her parents’ home until he had returned from seeing the general, but Eva had been so anxious about them that she had gone anyway. She had been worried, too, and nagged with guilt, certain that regardless of what Gabe had said, she should have gone to her mother last night.

But Gabe had been right. Her mother hadn’t wanted to see her. She could still remember the look of horror on her mother’s face when she had entered the bedroom. Immediately, her mother had turned her face to the wall and pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. She hadn’t responded to a single thing Nadia had said, simply lain in the bed, cowering in terror and shame.

Wisely she hadn’t taken Eva in to see their mother. She wished she hadn’t taken her little sister at all, but no one had warned her that their father looked so bad. His face was bruised and swollen, his lip cut, his eye blackened. At first she hadn’t even recognized him. Poor Eva had stared, never saying a word.

He had looked so broken and lost; the soldiers had beaten more than his body. Last night their mother had made him promise that he would reveal to no one what had happened to her, he had told her. He had given his word, and made both of them swear the same pledge of secrecy. None of their friends or neighbors were to know. If any of them had heard the commotion, they were only to admit that the soldiers had broken into the house and ransacked it looking for liquor. Nadia had done her best to put the place to rights while she was there.

Her father had been so adamant that no one should know the whole truth that Nadia hadn’t been able to tell him that Gabe had gone to see the American general. She hadn’t wanted to cause him more anguish.

Her poor little sister was so confused by everything. Nadia simply hadn’t been able to explain to her, in terms she could understand, the terrible degradation their mother had suffered at the hands of the soldiers. How could anyone explain such a vile thing to an innocent nine-year-old? It was something she couldn’t even discuss with her husband. She could empathize with her mother’s profound dread that their friends and neighbors might learn of the rape. If it had happened to her instead of her mother, she knew she wouldn’t be able to bear having other people look at her and know what those soldiers had done to her. She’d die of shame.

She was relieved that her grandfather had taken Eva home with him. She simply couldn’t have dealt with all her sister’s awkward questions. The more she thought about the vow of silence she’d taken, the more she thought it would be best for everyone to pretend that nothing had ever happened. Surely when she explained it to Gabe, he would see the sense of it. Why bring unnecessary embarrassment to the family?

She recognized the familiar tread of Gabe’s footsteps as he mounted the steps to their house.

“Gabe, I’m so glad you’re home.” She moved forward to greet him as he walked in, then noticed the odd look on his face.

“Are you now?” he taunted and kicked the door shut with his foot.

He appeared to sway a little, but Nadia couldn’t be sure of it. “Let me help you take off your coat so we can sit down and talk.” But he didn’t move. Instead he stared at her as if he had never seen her before now. Nadia became uncomfortable. “Is something wrong?” She touched her cheek, wondering if she had smudged it.

“What could possibly be wrong?” he challenged.

“I don’t know. You’re looking at me so strangely.” She laughed nervously.

“Am I?”

Unable to fathom his peculiar mood, Nadia turned away to move back into the room, twisting her clasped fingers together. “What did the general have to say?”

“The general had a great deal to say, my little princess.” His voice sounded so harsh and sarcastic that Nadia half turned to glance back at him. She felt frightened without knowing why. “In fact, that was the question he raised. Whether you are a Russian princess—or an Indian one?”

“Whatever are you talking about?” She swung away from him and searched wildly for another topic that would lead their conversation away from this subject before he went off on another of his tangents about Indians. “I went to see—”

He grabbed her arm and roughly jerked her around to face him. “Answer my question, Nadia. Are you Russian or Indian?” He pushed his face close to hers.

She drew back, frightened by his angry look, and strained against the painful grip he had on her forearm. “Why on earth would you ask such a thing, Gabe?” she murmured lamely, and immediately gasped in pain as he brutally twisted her forearm.

“Damn it, you answer me.”

“You’re hurting me,” Nadia whimpered as the pressure increased, intensifying the pain shooting up her arm.

“Are you part Indian?”

It felt as if her arm was going to break at any second. “Yes,” she gasped, then cried out when he twisted it harder.

“How much?”

“My … great-grandmother was half … Aleut,” she admitted. “And my grandfather … is half Kolosh.” She didn’t get a chance to tell him that her mother’s ancestry was mixed as well, half Finnish and the rest Russian, Aleut, and Kolosh.

“You bitch!” He slapped her across the face.

The force of the blow knocked her to the floor, briefly stunning her. She was conscious of the ache in her arm from the wrenching he’d given it. One whole side of her face felt as if it was on fire. She propped herself up on one arm and gingerly touched her cheek and jaw, tasting the blood from the cut in her mouth.

“You lied to me!” he bellowed at her.

“I didn’t.” She hurried to her feet, anxious to appease his temper. “I swear I didn’t, Gabe.”

“The whole damned town knew I took a breed for a wife—everyone except me! You left out that little piece of information.”

“You never asked.”

He slapped her, striking the same area as before and sending fresh explosions of pain through her head. “I should have expected an answer like that from you,” he jeered. “Even if I had asked, you would have lied. You tricked me into marrying you.”

“I swear I didn’t.” She cowered from him, shielding her throbbing face with her hand. “I love you. I wanted to be your wife and help make all your plans and dreams come true.”

“You’ve ruined them! You’ve destroyed every chance I had! Don’t you see, you stupid little slut! They’ll never appoint me governor when this becomes a territory! I’d be lucky if they’d give me an appointment as postmaster—not a man with a wife who’s part Indian!” As he raged at her, Nadia started backing up, sensing the explosion that was to come, but he followed her, shouting louder and louder with each step. “I’m finished! You have ruined everything for me! And you’ve made me the laughingstock of this whole stinking town! I must have looked like a fool parading around the streets with you on my arm. How could I have been so blind all this time?”

“Gabe, please—”

“Shut up!” He hit her and kept on hitting her.

Nadia tried to run, but that only seemed to incense him more. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back. She raised her arms, trying to ward off the blows to her face and head as he pummeled her unmercifully. When she managed to break away from him again, he chased her through the house, overturning furniture and knocking dishes and vases to the floor, and finally trapped her in a corner where there was no escape. Nadia sank to the floor and curled herself up in a protective little ball while he kicked and hit at her until she was insensitive to the pain. She kept sobbing and begging for him to stop, certain he intended to kill her.

She wasn’t even aware when he stopped until she heard the slam of the front door and realized she was alone. For a long time she cowered in the corner, crying softly, bruised and battered from head to foot.

When night came, Nadia was petrified at what he might do to her when he came home. She barricaded herself in the bedroom, then sat up to wait for him, every bone and muscle in her body throbbing with pain.

But Gabe didn’t come back that night or the next day, or the next, or the next. Gradually Nadia became less frightened that he might return and more afraid that he wouldn’t. By the fifth day, the meager supply of food in the house was gone. She let another day go by, telling herself that Gabe had to come back. His clothes were still here and many of his papers and books. She went another day without eating, certain that someone from the family would stop to find out why she hadn’t been at church or gone to visit her parents. No one came.

Finally she admitted to herself that she could wait no longer. Most of the bruises on her face had faded to a faint discoloration easily hidden by several layers of powder. Although the two or three severe bruises were still visible, their violet hues were toned by the application of the Spanish papers. Her coat, gloves, and long skirts hid the rest.

The walk to town seemed exceptionally long and tiring. Picking her way carefully over the rotten boards in the sidewalk, Nadia approached Gabe’s office with great trepidation. Outside his door, she hesitated and almost turned away. She couldn’t help remembering that this was the very spot where she’d first met him. Gathering her courage, she opened the door and walked in.

At first glance, the office appeared deserted. It seemed her worst fear had been realized and he had truly left. “Gabe?” she called hesitantly. Nothing. Then she heard a crash followed by a cursing that came from the back room. Nadia shrank from the anger in that voice, but it was too late to flee as Gabe appeared in the doorway.

His disheveled appearance shocked her. His face bristled with the pale stubble of several days of beard growth. The dark hollows under his eyes gave them a sunken look. His suit was badly rumpled and stained, and much of his sandy hair stood on end. He had the pale and drawn look of a man who had suffered through a terrible ordeal.

“What are you doing here?” The anger and bitterness hadn’t gone from his voice, yet Nadia heard the pain in it, too.

“I’ve been worried about you,” she replied hesitantly.

“Well, don’t,” he snapped. “Because I don’t want some squaw worrying about me. You’ve destroyed everything, so just get out!”