Page 79 of A New World for the Irish Daughter

“Maybe that’s why they’re not,” Brendan replied with a chuckle. “A man loses his social skills when he’s out on his own. Probably goes a little crazy, too. There’s more than one reason why they call it goldfever.”

“I suppose,” Maggie said, and Brendan squeezed her hand.

“We’re almost there.” It wasn’t the same as saying her father and brother would be all right, and as much as she dreaded whatever was next, Maggie appreciated his honesty. It reminded her of how much she could trust him.

Ten minutes later, they came upon a shabby little cabin, the visible cracks between the rough-hewn logs stuffed with dried moss, the canvas-covered roof listing, the shabby little structure indeed built too close to the creek.

“This looks like the place,” Brendan said cheerfully, only to falter as they both saw how quiet and empty it seemed. There was no panning operation on the creek, no smokehouse or clothing line or anything that suggested someone was living there. Weeds and grass grew long all around the cabin.

Maggie started running. “Da?” she called, her voice coming out in a screech. “Danny?Da? It’s me, Maggie?—”

The only sound was the twitter of a bird high up in a tree.

“No…” Maggie whispered. She ran to the cabin’s door, which was practically rotting off its hinges, and tried to wrench it open, but it was latched.

“Who’s there?” a hoarse voice called. “I’ll blow your head off, I will, if you come any closer.”

“Da…” Maggie whispered, and then she pounded on the door. “Da! It’s me, Maggie!”

“Lass?” She heard scrabbling, and then the heavy sound of someone limping across the room. Finally, the latch was thrown open and her father stood there, swaying, emaciated, looking worse than Maggie had ever seen him.

“Da…” she whispered, and he smiled to reveal a set of blackened teeth. He was nothing but skin and bone, a scruffy, patchy beard covering his gaunt cheeks, his eyes sunken into his skull.

“Maggie, lass. Youcame.” Tears started in his eyes as he shook his head slowly in wonder. “You really came.”

“And Brendan, too.” She stepped into the cabin, nearly reeling back at the stench of unwashed humanity that assaulted her. Danny lay on a cot in the corner, one leg out at an unnatural angle, his face pale and sheened with sweat. “Oh, dear heaven.” Maggie hurried toward him and laid a hand against his forehead. “He’s burning up!”

Her father nodded soberly. “He started with the fever about a week ago. Something’s gone wrong with his leg… we thought it had healed as best as it could, but he never could walk on it, and we ran out of food weeks ago…”

“Weeks…” Maggie stared at him in horror.

“Oh, we’ve managed all right,” her da assured her with a ghostly remnant of his old cheerfulness. “Berries and nuts and what have you… although don’t eat those little red ones. I had just the one and was sick for days. Powerful sick.”

“Oh, Da.” Maggie shook her head despairingly. As thankful as she was to see them both alive, they were clearly in a terrible state, and she hadn’t even looked at Danny’s leg yet. She was almost afraid to.

“I can’t believe you made it, lass!” her father exclaimed, rocking back on his heels. “All that way? Did you sail down the Yukon?”

“We did,” Maggie confirmed. “It wasn’t easy.” She glanced at Brendan. “I couldn’t have done it without Brendan.”

“Ah, the man of the hour!” Her father shuffled over to shake Brendan’s hand. He seemed almost too weak to stand. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you,” Brendan replied as he gently returned the handshake. “We weren’t sure what we’d find.”

“To be sure, another week or two and we might have been nothing but bones!” Her father laughed, even though it seemed all too possible to Maggie. What if they’d been delayed, or hadn’t come at all?

“Why didn’t you go into Dawson?” she asked, caught between despair and frustration. “It’s only fifteen miles! They might have a doctor there?—”

Her father shook his head. “No doctor. They say they’re going to get one, maybe this summer, but…” He shrugged. “And, in any case, we couldn’t leave our claim.”

“Why not?” Maggie cried.

“Because ofthis.” Her father crossed the room to a locked tin box and, taking a key from around his neck, opened it and then reverently lifted something out. He turned to Maggie and Brendan, opening his palm to reveal a nugget the size of a plum.

“Is that…gold?” Maggie asked incredulously, and her father nodded proudly.

“So it is, so it is. And there’s more where that came from. Lots more. That’s why we couldn’t leave,” he told her earnestly. “As soon as we did, someone would come and steal it. Claim jumping, it is. You leave your stake and the next thing you know, it ain’t yours anymore.” With a racking cough, he slumped into arickety chair. “But I’ve been so tired lately, and Danny’s been so poorly… we haven’t worked the claim in weeks, I’m sorry to say.”

“Oh, Da.” Maggie shook her head. “You both need to be seen by a doctor.”