Mystery at Chilkoot Pass (Mysteries through History) by Barbara Steiner

Author:Barbara Steiner [Steiner, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781497648265
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2014-07-08T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

ANOTHER THIEF

Rosie Jacobson had typhoid fever. Hetty and Alma wanted to go to the Jacobsons’ tent with Mrs. Vasquez, but she said no, there was nothing they could do to help.

“What’s wrong?” Sarah Lancaster asked. She and Uncle Donall surprised Hetty by coming back for supper. They watched Mrs. Vasquez hurry away.

“Little Rosie Jacobson has typhoid,” Hetty explained, dishing up beans and rice for everyone.

“Lots of people are sick with one thing or another.” Andy Nickerson placed one of his sourdough biscuits on each plate. “But this is the first case of typhoid I’ve heard about on the trail this autumn. I’ve seen many a feller die of it with no doctor available.”

Hetty felt her stomach tighten. “You think Papa has typhoid?”

“No, I think he just has a bad cold. He should be careful it doesn’t turn into pneumonia, though,” Andy Nickerson said.

Hetty thought about how sweet little Rosie was, how she loved to hold Rosie and tickle her and watch her giggle.

“If it’s possible, Mama will make her well, Hetty,” Alma said, just as Hetty was thinking the same thing. The two girls had been together so much, they seldom had to explain thoughts, knowing they were often the same.

“I’m so glad you came on this trip, Alma,” Hetty said softly. “I can’t imagine being here without you.”

“Me, either,” Alma agreed. “I was so afraid we’d have to turn back after Mama’s restaurant money was stolen. Mama is worried about your father paying our way.”

They ate in silence until finally Uncle Donall set down his dish for Hetty to wash and held out his hand to Sarah. “Coming, Sarah? There’s a great game going together at the saloon.”

“I don’t think so, Donall.” Sarah sounded tired, or sad. “I think I’ll go to bed early tonight.” She watched Uncle Donall leave without her.

“You aren’t getting sick, are you, Sarah?” Hetty asked.

Sarah shook her head, but she got up, leaving her food half eaten, and walked toward the tent. As she raised her hand to lift the tent flap, a gleam caught Hetty’s eye. She looked harder at Sarah’s hand.

“What a beautiful ring, Sarah,” Hetty said. “I haven’t seen you wear it before.”

“It’s new, Hetty. Your Uncle Donall gave it to me. Isn’t it pretty?” Not waiting for an answer, Sarah ducked into the tent.

“You think they’re engaged?” Alma whispered as soon as Sarah was gone.

“I don’t know. Where would Uncle Donall get such a ring, Alma? It looks expensive. I can’t bear the thought that Uncle Donall is a thief, but the idea won’t go away. If he gets caught, he’ll be flogged or—or sent back home. Well, back to San Francisco.”

Hetty didn’t sleep much that night. She turned over and over. Usually she was so tired that she didn’t notice the hard ground, but now a list of worries she could count like sheep kept her awake: Little Rosie being sick. Uncle Donall being a thief. He and Sarah being engaged. Hetty could hear Papa coughing in the next tent.

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