With a grunt, Callie pulled the sledge the last few feet into the yard, a cleared area at the edge of the shore pine forest. The land here transformed from trees to scrub and meadow as it rolled down to the inlet’s edge. In the past she’d go down to the rocky shore and watch the occasional ship come through, and wave at the curiosity seekers and sailors on the deck, but not anymore. There were too damned many of them.
She shrugged the ropes off her shoulders and swung her arms back and forth to ease the muscles. Removing the wide-brimmed hat from her head, she shoved the noncooperative hair back up onto her scalp and wiped her forehead with a handkerchief she fished from a pocket.
Three buildings squatted around the yard. Smoke drifted from the largest one’s chimney and the front door stood open, a packhorse tied to the railing. The roof peak was barely six feet tall, and the roof jutted out four feet past the threshold to create a dirt-packed porch. The low ceiling inside was uncomfortable to Callie who stood only two inches shorter. Jasper was forced to duck his head while inside, being somewhat taller than she. The oilskin that normally covered the two windows had been rolled up and the shutters thrown wide. An assortment of tools and accouterments for day-to-day living in the wilderness cluttered the rudimentary porch—two wooden stools, a pair of snowshoes that needed repair, chains of different sized metal traps and two canteens hung from hooks, Jasper’s leather pack and about a cord of firewood. Moose antlers adorned the top of the forward roof peak, high enough so as not to impale anyone attempting to enter.
The smallest building was the smokehouse. It doubled as a place to store and prepare meat and furs to be sold in town. A cord of mostly cedar wood was stacked to one side. Between the two stood a sturdy shed just large enough to house their one packhorse, with thick walls and a single door to protect against the carnivorous wildlife. Deep gouges had been dug into one corner, white against the weathered logs, where a hungry bear had attempted entry. Callie had received three hundred dollars and a healthy respect for charging grizzlies from that skin.
“Ho! Jasper!” Callie called. “I’m back!”
She saw movement out of the corner of her eye; her brother ducked out into the late afternoon sunlight. Like her he was tall and slender, his blond hair cut short and thinning at the temples. He smiled welcome from beneath a meticulously shaped mustache that curled ever-so-slightly at the ends; he looked more and more like their father every day. “Looks like a fine haul.” His trousers were stained but serviceable and the top three buttons of his butternut shirt were open. Brown suspenders dangled from his waist.
“Not a bad ’un.” Callie untied the tarp and pulled it free. “Mostly marmot and hares, but we had a lynx and a couple of red foxes on the line.”
“Bully.” Jasper circled the sledge and helped her sort through the day’s catch. “Supper’s almost ready. I can put this up in the shed if you want to go eat.”
As much as she desired to do exactly that, Callie shook her head. She prided herself in not shirking her responsibilities. Most men fell into two categories. The worst one by far was the “little woman” syndrome where she received pats on the head and advice to return to the house where she belonged. The less ammunition she gave anyone for that opinion the better. “Naw. It’ll take less time if we both work.”
Jasper knew better than to argue. They unloaded the sledge and hanged the carcasses inside the smoke shed. As they toiled, he kept up conversation, filling her in with news from his trip to Skagway.
“And can you believe that lily-livered Billy Quinn? Sucking up to every skirt that sways past like God Himself has put him on this earth for all womankind?” Jasper shook his head in disgust. “It’s a wonder he ain’t been shot. He doesn’t care if a woman is married or not. He just barges right in with his innuendo.”
“Billy Quinn’s a deadbeat. I don’t think he’s worked a day in his life.” Callie folded the tarp from the sledge as her brother bundled the rope. “Besides, he hangs with Jamie Perkins. You need to stay away from them. Rumor has it that all them are running from the law.”
Jasper shrugged, tied off the rope and tossed it onto the already disordered porch. “I know. I ran into him at the post.”
Neither of them had family to speak of so why would her brother check the mail? He hadn’t mentioned contacting the government about expanding their property again. Not that she’d mind if he did, but he normally discussed business propositions with her. She hauled the now empty sledge to the side of the shed and grunted as she hoisted it up. Jasper came to help and they tipped it over to rest at an angle against the side wall.
Callie dusted off her hands. “What’s at the post?”
A blush spread across Jasper’s fair face, alarming in its brilliance. “I—I got a letter.” He pulled the trimmed but long edges of his bushy mustache into his mouth, hands on his hips as he stared out over the water.
Her suspicions grew and she cocked her head. For the life of her she couldn’t think of anyone who’d send Jasper a letter. All their family had been dead and gone for years. Unless there’s something about
