Page 49 of A New World for the Irish Daughter

And yet within that lawlessness, a certain order was able to be found. Some of the miners had wives, and the local school had children; women formed benevolent aid societies and hosted tea parties, and the dance halls held perfectly polite dances where men and women waltzed together, in a manner that was entirely proper. Maggie had yet to attend such an occasion, but she was looking forward to dancing at the next one… which made her think of Brendan.

She hadn’t seen him since she’d ushered him back to the boarding house and plied him with coffee to sober up. He’d fallen asleep, snoring steadily until Danny and her da had stumbled in, sadly just as worse for wear as Brendan had been. They’d been delighted to see him, and there had been a drunken reunion that Maggie had put an end to after fifteen sloppily sentimental minutes.

“You’d think you hadn’t seen each other for five years, not five minutes,” she’d declared while her father had given her a glassy-eyed grin.

“Ah, lass, it’s a fine thing for a man to have friends in a place like this.”

Maggie had held her tongue, but when she’d suggested that Brendan inquire of Mrs. Compton whether a bed could be had—and Maggie was sure that one could be—Brendan, who had sobered up considerably by that point, insisted it would be better if he stayed elsewhere.

“As you please,” Maggie had replied tartly. After helping him to force down his third cup of coffee, she’d decided she’d had enough of his noble yet woebegone theatrics. Let the man pine if he so chose. It made no difference to her; she’d make sure it wouldn’t.

Sober, however, Brendan had been determined to make a dignified exit. He’d solemnly thanked Maggie for her care, toldDanny and her da that he hoped to see them again soon, and then walked slowly and carefully from the room.

It was the last time Maggie had seen him for months.

She looked for him nearly every day, in the streets of Juneau; it wasn’t a big town, after all, but she didn’t catch so much as a glimpse. She didn’t ask her brother or father about him. If Brendan wanted to live a life apart, well then, the least she could do was let him. Even if it hurt, more than she’d expected or wanted it to.

Besides, there was enough to be getting on with her work at St. Ann’s, which took every spare moment she had, as well as trying to steer her father and brother on a steady course. Upon their arrival in Juneau, her father and brother had been predictably overly optimistic, and, in Maggie’s opinion, naïve, holding fast to the idea that they’d be able to strike out immediately for gold.

They’d soon learned from their compatriots at the various drinking saloons they frequented all too often that all the potential claims near Juneau were played out, and it was necessary to go further afield.

For that they’d need an outfit—that was, the supplies necessary for the arduous and often treacherous journey into Alaska’s arctic interior, a far cry from Juneau’s milder climes. And to afford those crucial supplies, they needed a wage.

And so, after a week of sauntering about Juneau as men about town, Danny and her da had decided to get jobs. They’d presented themselves at Treadwell mine and were duly employed blasting tunnels through the hard rock, which both reassured and alarmed Maggie. She was glad—very glad—they were gainfully employed, but she’d seen enough mining accidents at St. Ann’s to worry about them constantly. Still, she told herself, at least they were keeping out of trouble.

“Now, what seems to be the worry here?” Maggie asked as she came to the next bed on the ward.

A Tlingit woman lay upon it, shivering uncontrollably. Her long, black braids were lank, her eyes glassy and her face flushed. She wore a thin, cotton dress that wasn’t warm enough even for this June day, and a pair of beautifully beaded moccasins that were sadly covered in mud were lined up neatly on the floor next to the bed.

With a murmur of sympathy, Maggie gently rested her hand on her forehead and then drew it away, concerned. “You’re burning up with fever,” she remarked quietly.

The woman stared at her miserably, unspeaking. Most of the Tlingit could speak at least a little English, but this poor woman looked too sick even to try, as well as frightened. It wasn’t easy, Maggie knew, for one of the tribe to come to the hospital for help, when just about everywhere else in the town wouldn’t welcome them.

“I’ll get a cool cloth,” Maggie told her. “Maybe it will help.”

The woman reached out to grab her, but her hand fell to her side.

“It will be all right,” Maggie soothed. “You’ll need to stay in the hospital for a few days until you recover.”

The woman made a moan that sounded pain-filled but also a protest, and Maggie hesitated by the bed.

“What is it?” she asked gently. “You can recover here, you know. It’s all right to stay here. We want to help you. If you stay, you’ll be much more likely to get better.”

The woman shook her head, a mute back and forth, her eyes filled with panic as she tried to clutch at Maggie’s hand once more, clearly trying to communicate something, although Maggie had no idea what.

“I promise…” she told her, although she knew it wasn’t a promise she could truly make. Staying in the hospital didn’tmean the poor woman would get better, but it was most likely warmer and drier than the one of the cabins built on stilts over the muddy channel where the Tlingit lived.

The woman shook her head again, and then, fear filling her dark eyes, did her best to gesture to the space by the bed next to her, one scrawny hand reaching toward Maggie.

It was only then that Maggie saw the small Tlingit child, her eyes so very wide, crouching by the side of the bed.

CHAPTER 26

“Oh my heavens,” Maggie said softly. She crouched down next to the child, a little girl, judging by her long, silky braids, each one tied with a strip of hide. Tlingit boys and men, Maggie knew, kept their hair long and loose; only women and girls wore braids. She looked to be no more than two or three years old. “Hello,” she said softly. “I’m Maggie. Who are you?”

In response, the girl scuttled right under the bed, glaring at her mistrustfully. Maggie wondered how she’d managed to creep in without anyone noticing.

“All right,” she said equably, smiling as she straightened. “We can talk later.” She would have to do something with the child, she knew, but it was clear right now she was terrified. Maggie turned back to the woman. “Is this your little girl?” she asked, and the woman simply stared at her miserably. Maggie wondered if she knew any English. “It’s all right,” she tried again. “She can stay here for now. But we must try to lower your fever. That’s the important thing.”