Laying Claim
January 1898
Skagway, Alaska
Chapter One
Clara Bixbee hadn’t prepared herself for the mass of
bodies and fervor that carried her along the Skagway dock. She should have realized
the dock would be overflowing after seeing the crowded conditions on the boat
she’d traveled on from Seattle. If two men hadn’t been in a hurry to disembark
and practically lifted her off the boat, setting her on the dock, she would
still be trying to capture the layers of her skirts to descend the plank.
Instead, she found herself crushed among the moving
bodies, propelling her toward the rustic town not far from the shoreline. They
stepped off the pier and most of the men moved to the right. The goods and trunks
that were stowed below deck now sat in a pile on the shoreline. Loaded row
boats continued to add to the mound.
Clara stopped to scan the pile for her trunk. Someone
ran into her from behind, knocking her into the back of a man. Hands fumbled
about her wool coat. Having grown up in Seattle, she knew when her pockets were
being picked.
She jabbed her ever-present umbrella into the pick-pocket’s belly. Air whooshed from the man’s mouth as he doubled over, withdrawing
his hand from her pocket along with her pocket book. The very pocket book that
held half of the money she’d brought with her.
“I’ll take
back what’s mine.” Clara retrieved her pocket book from the man’s hand and
decided it would be best to find a room and send someone for her trunk. The
trip on the boat had been harrowing enough with so many men, bawdy women, and
not a moment’s peace. If they weren’t all talking about how they would find
gold, they were gambling, drinking, and carrying on all hours of the night.
She’d complained to the captain, but he’d been in the midst of the
rabble-rousing.
Shoving the pocket book into an inside coat pocket,
she continued out of the throng of bodies, poking them with the point of her
umbrella to move them out of her way. Once she put space between herself and
the new arrivals, Clara stood in the middle of a muddy street. The mountains
rising up beyond the town were white with snow, yet the streets of Skagway were
muddy and the air not much different than she would have encountered in Seattle
had she been out exploring the city with friends.
“Outta the way!”
Clara returned her attention to the street and found
her feet stuck in the mud as a team of horses pulled a wagon loaded with goods
up from the dock and straight at her. The mud sucked tighter around her ankles
as she jammed the point of her umbrella in the muck and tried to pull her feet
free. Her heart raced as the brace of animals continued forward. Frantic, she
waved her arms and shouted.
“Stop, I’m stuck. Stop!” The horses tossed their
heads and their eyes widened, but the man in the wagon continued to lash out at
them with a whip.
The thud of the large hooves and wooden wheels
vibrated the ground under her feet. Heat from the horses’ breath touch her
cheeks.
“He—” Her cry for help was cut short as an arm
wrapped around her middle and pulled her out of the mud and into a rider’s lap.
“Miss, you really need to stay to the boardwalks
this time of year.”
The male voice warmed the shell of her ear. The arm
about her middle held firm but didn’t feel invasive.
Before she could offer there were no sidewalks from
the dock to town, the arm released her and she slid to the walkway in front of
a store. When her balance was restored, she spun to thank her rescuer, but all
she saw was a gray Stetson, a wool coat stretched between wide shoulders, and
the backside of a black horse before the man and horse were swallowed up in the
bodies and conveyances in the street.
Clara stomped the mud from her shoes, thankful she’d
worn her oldest pair of boots for this trip, and shook out the bottom of her
skirt. Glancing at the building behind her, she immediately hustled along the
boardwalk. Not only had the man plopped her down in front of a saloon, but
reading the signs across the street, there were two more. She didn’t mind a
glass of sherry now and then, but the way men were sauntering in and staggering
out of the buildings, she made a note to stay far away.
A sign caught her eye. Telegraph. That would be the fastest way to let her mother and
younger siblings know she arrived safely. She hurried to the door under the
sign and went in. Not only would she get a message off to Mother but she’d
locate a respectable hotel as well.
A thin man with a mustache and close-set eyes stood
up. “Can I help ya, ma’am?”
“Yes, I’d like to send a telegraph to Seattle, for
Mrs. Randolph Bixbee. 1113 State Street.” She dug her pocket book from inside
her coat. “Have it say, in Skagway.”
“That’ll be five dollars.” The man held his hand out
palm up.
“Five Dollars? That’s outrageous. I only asked you
to send two words.” She clutched her pocket book to her chest as if the man
would snatch it away and stared at him.
“Ma’am, you’ll find the prices up here are a lot
different than you’re used to.” He
nodded to his hand. “Why a bed is going to cost you a dollar here and two-fifty
on the other side of the pass. Meals is a dollar.”
Clara continued to stare at the man as she
calculated the money she’d brought with her and how far it would go if she had
to pay the outlandish prices. It would save her mother a lot of worry if she
received a telegraph today rather than a letter in a month. She turned her back
on the man and dug in her pocket book for a five dollar note. With her pocket
book back in the folds of her coat and the currency in her hand, she turned
back to the telegraph operator.
“Could you direct me to a respectable hotel, please?”
He took the note and pointed to the door. “Go back
out and continue into town. Take a left on Bond Street. You can’t miss St.
James Hotel.”
“Thank you.” Clara tucked her umbrella under her arm
and headed back out into the street. It was barely three in the afternoon and
the sky was beginning to darken. Randy’s letters stated the nights were long in
the winter and short in the summer, but she hadn’t conceived it would grow dark
so early. The streets were still crowded with men. She didn’t wish to be on the
streets after dark.
Traveling on the ship had opened her eyes to a
rougher world than she’d ever experienced before. There had been lewd comments
tossed her way along with groping hands when she’d dared to catch a breath of fresh
air on the deck. She’d never thought her parents coddled her, since they
allowed her and her siblings to travel about Seattle as they wished. But this
journey showed her she had lived a coddled life. If her mother knew the conditions, she would
have never sent her oldest daughter alone to find her son and now heir to the
family business.
She turned the corner and spotted the large building
with the placard “St. James Hotel.”
There was a steady stream of people entering and
leaving the building. Please, let there
be a room available. She trudged across the street and elbowed her way
through the men standing on the walkway.
“Well, what have we here?” A tall thin man with a
black beard grasped her arm.
“Unhand me, this instant!” Clara yanked her arm out
of his grasp and he laughed.
“Only checking out the new scenery.” The man’s eyes
roved up and down her person making her cringe.
Huffing and ignoring the other men’s laughter, she
shoved open the hotel door and entered. Stuffy warm air wrapped around her,
thawing her nose. A line of five people all men stood at the counter inquiring
about rooms.
“I’m sorry. That boat that just came in filled me
up, boys. You’ll have to go looking somewhere else.” The clerk closed the large
book on the counter and shook his head.
Clara elbowed her way through the stream of men
walking her way. At the counter, she stopped the clerk from leaving by clearing
her throat.
“Yes, Miss?”
“I would like a room, please.” Clara drew her pocket
book from inside her coat.
“I don’t have a room, but I do have a bed. You’d be
bunking with Mrs. Eiderly.”
“A married woman?” That would be better than no room at all. “Where is her husband?”
“She’s a widow. Been up here a month waiting out the
winter to go back in and work her claim.”
“I’ll take it.” She could use the advice of someone
who had been over the pass. And maybe this Mrs. Eiderly had run into Randy and
could tell her exactly where to find him.
“How long you staying for?” He turned the book on
the counter and handed her a pen to sign her name.
“Only until I can get supplies and a guide. Two
maybe three days.” She signed with a flourish and smiled at the clerk. Soon
she’d be on her way to find Randy.
The man shook his head. “If you didn’t bring
supplies it could take you longer than you think to round them up. Which pass
you going over?”
“Chilkoot, it’s the fastest.”
His gaze skimmed down her person and then he shook
his head. “Miss, you don’t look strong enough to handle that pass. You best set
your sights on the White.”
“It takes longer to cross the White Pass. I don’t
have the luxury of time.” She placed another five dollar note on the counter.
“Use this for my room and to send someone to the dock to pick up my trunk,
please.”
Holding out her hand she asked, “Do I get a key and
what number is my room?”
“You’ll find room twenty-seven at the top of the
stairs to the right.” He slid a key across the counter. “You best chat up Mrs.
Eiderly. She’ll set you straight.”
Clara picked up the key and headed to the room she
would share with a stranger. At least on the ship she’d had a small room to
herself.
At the room, she knocked on the door. No point in
scaring the woman by unlocking and barging in. No answer. She unlocked the door
and stared into a dark room.
Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness and using the
dim light from the hall, she noticed a light bulb, like those dangling in the
hallway, in the middle of the room. The
light was of course up high enough no one would hit it with their head. Her finger tips didn’t even touch the bulb.
She scanned the room and found a chair hidden under a pile of clothes. Clara
dumped the clothes on a bed and dragged the chair under the light.
Standing on the chair, her fingers found the turn
key, she click the light on. From her
perch on the chair, she was pleased to find two single beds in the room. The
thought of sleeping with a woman she didn’t know had sent her mind into
worrying if the woman was large or small, well groomed or not so well groomed. But the clothes strewn about the room were mostly
men’s. Did I enter the wrong room? She stepped off the chair and back out into
the hall to reread the number twenty-seven. It was, indeed, the right room.
She closed the door, unbuttoned her coat, and hung
it and her hat on the hook by the door. To keep busy while waiting for her
trunk to arrive, she began cleaning the bed that looked the least used. Clara
picked up and folded the clothing on the bed and placed them on the other bed
with rumpled covers.
Once her bed was cleared, she kicked the other belongings
away to make a path from the door to the window. The streets below were dark
except for the glow of light through establishment’s lights and open doorways.
Where was her roommate and when would her trunk arrive?
