The Daughter's Walk: A Novel by Jane Kirkpatrick

Author:Jane Kirkpatrick [Kirkpatrick, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction, Fiction, General, Literary, Christian, Religious, Mothers and Daughters, Historical, Voyages and Travels, Family secrets, Christian fiction
ISBN: 1400074290
Publisher: WaterBrook Press
Published: 2011-04-05T00:00:00+00:00

In view of Mount Rainier with its majestic white cap, we chugged into Seattle. The town bustled with its ferries, which were needed to get from here to there across saltwater sounds to freshwater lakes. It was a town anxious to become a city no longer defined only by timber but by other kinds of commerce, including ship building, a railroad terminus, fishing fleets, and service to the Klondike gold fields. “Maybe I could stake a prospector,” I said as we watched a mule string board a boat headed north. We ate a leisurely lunch near a busy wharf on the harbor.

“That would be a low-risk investment,” Olea mocked.

“But a romantic one,” Louise added. “Nearly everyone in the gold fields are men. Well, except for … entertainers.”

“I wouldn’t go there myself,” I said. “I’d have my own agent, like you have Franklin Doré.”

“It’s too bad we’re here in the fall,” Olea sighed. “The largest fur auction on the West Coast is held here in February. Seattle Fur Exchange. We don’t usually buy through them, with our business primarily in the East. Franklin attends the auctions in Canada. But it would be fun to see how they operate here, what sorts of pelts predominate. I know they charge a four percent commission on lots of over a thousand dollars. Five percent on smaller lots.”

“You’ve done well in the business,” I commented.

“We’ve had our ups and downs, as you know,” Olea agreed.

“But it isn’t a business with much certainty,” I said. “It’s hard to know which pelts will be available, and fashion changes. You’ve told me yourself: people may not want mink one year; they want raccoon instead. Seems like a lot of unpredictability.”

“We could do what the Finns are doing,” Olea said. “They’re ranching fur, have been since the nineties.”

“Ranching?” I couldn’t imagine.

“Well, it’s a long shot, I’m sure; you know those Finns. But they’re trying to breed silver foxes on their ranches and farms. That way they can control nutrition and create the best quality pelts.”

“We could come back in February,” Louise said, still with Olea’s earlier comment about missing the auction.

“Yes, we could do that,” Olea told her. “I suspect February here would be much milder than in Minnesota.”

“Who would want to spend the winter in Minnesota?” I said. “I spent a fair number of them there when I was little, and I still remember the cold.” I wiped my face with the linen napkin. The oyster soup was delicious. I hadn’t had a bowl for years. It was usually a dish my aunt Hannah made for New Year’s Eve.

“Well, I would,” Olea said. “My sister lives in St. Paul, and while we’re out and about with everything arranged at home, it’s a good time to be with them. She’s invited us all for the winter.”

I wasn’t tired of the travel, but neither was I looking forward to spending a winter in St. Paul. I would have said as much to Olea, but after all, I worked for them. They set the schedule.

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