They’d found a way to thrive. Without him. And that was unacceptable.
Now they were stronger than ever. Steady. Faithful.
Qualities that were overflowing and spilling out into Nome. His town.
He should have known that the Roselli fellow would be trouble. But now that the man had married into the family, there was no getting rid of him.
Judas let out a long, low growl. His profits came from the chaos, crime, and depravity of the boomtown. He became everyone’s hero. But if the town cleaned up, where would that leave him?
His reputation as a wealthy and respected man was well-known. But only a select few had learned, through their own stupidity, that he was also ruthless.
Those people were no longer in Nome.
He drummed his fingers on his desk. It was a pity he hadn’t been able to work the situation this past summer more to his benefit. But once Chuck regained his senses after the apoplexy and was able to communicate again, he told his family and foreman where he kept his money. Apparently he still had plenty. They’d paid for the sheep, the chickens . . . everything. Now they didn’t owe him anything.
Which meant Judas had no leverage.
He’d never been able to get that over Chuck Bundrant and his farm.
What was he missing? He hadn’t come this far in this town not to succeed. Nome was his for the running. He could be mayor if he chose to buy the position for himself. But owning the main freighting service gave him far more power than the position of mayor. And since he’d added a passenger service that summer, he’d tripled his profits as hundreds, if not thousands, more men poured in to find their fortune in gold. As soon as they disembarked, his men were there to sell them claim sites and extra equipment.
There was also the hotel he’d had built and the beginnings of a proper docking system. That wouldn’t be complete until next year, but he could require that anyone who wanted to use it pay a hefty rental.
All of it was his. So how did Bundrant and his beautiful granddaughters elude his control? If the girls kept packing out the Roadhouse with their performances, they’d have even more sway trying to convince the men to clean up the town.
And that wouldn’t do.
He couldn’t charge them more for their orders or hold up any of their shipments. To hurt Chuck Bundrant and his granddaughters would be like cutting off his nose to spite his face. So how to get them beholden to him—so deeply in need of his help that they couldn’t turn away anything he asked them to do?
Everything he wanted was within his grasp. He’d worked years to make it to this point. He couldn’t let one man and his piddly little dairy farm stand in the way.
Then there was Martin Beaufort. The man had been struggling financially for some time. Did his son have any idea how bad things were? It could be another avenue to exploit. Another business to get under his influence and power.
Looking into young Daniel Beaufort could prove beneficial. Perhaps there were more secrets to the family hidden away. All in good time.
He would have control.
The sun dipped low outside Chuck’s window. He’d always loved this view. Exactly why he built the house positioned like this. Just never expected that he’d see so much of the view and for so long a time. Weeks of sitting in a chair or lying in bed. Unable to walk. Unable to talk.
The outskirts of Nome stretched out around him with the river valley gradually giving way to rolling hills. In the distance were mountains, but from this vantage point, he couldn’t see them. The ocean was to the south and west, and while he couldn’t see that either, the effects of it were always present in the damp air and chilled breeze. Most impressive were the fogs that rolled in at speeds that baffled newcomers and had left more than one man lost in the wall of clouds.
He chuckled. He’d even gotten lost when a fog rolled in off the water. One minute he’d been walking a clear path made by the natives, and the next he couldn’t see his own feet. The terrible loneliness, the isolation. . . . He shivered at the memory of it. Stuck there in that fog, he could believe he was the last man left on earth.
He’d never felt that again—until his apoplexy.
What happened to the days of health and strength of his youth? When did he get so old? It seemed to happen overnight. But then again, he’d ignored the signs. The headaches, pounding heartbeats, and shortness of breath. Why hadn’t he paid more attention? Melly had probed about his irritation and being out of sorts, but he’d brushed his daughter’s concerns aside.
Now she was gone.
His health was gone.
Doc had warned he’d been pushing too hard. When the first bout of apoplexy hit, he shouldn’t have been surprised. But the second bout was much worse. And today he was paying the price for his stubbornness and pride.
And for the secrets he had kept.
Secrets that hurt his girls no matter how right he’d thought his reasons were at the time. And he’d lost Melissa before he could apologize. But she’d known the truth. When the girls found the box of letters Melly had written to them under her bed, he’d cried as they read them aloud. She knew about Christopher and his other family. And the fact that her husband wasn’t dead.
Did she know that Chuck had orchestrated it to protect her and the girls? Why did she never say anything? Was she angry with him?
It tormented him. Especially at night.
Parents should never have to face losing a child. Parents were supposed to go first. His amazing daughter had endured a lot over the years. Rarely did she ever complain. She’d supported him and encouraged him through thick and thin.
But one question plagued him the most. Had she forgiven him?
He sure hoped so.
His chest ached and tears pricked his eyes. Not a man accustomed to tears, he’d shed a river of them this past summer. Losing his daughter was the worst pain he’d ever endured. Like someone took a hot poker to his heart and, instead of stabbing him, just let it burn. Long and slow. Never relenting.
There’d been no good-byes. He hadn’t even been able to speak to her. Yet she sacrificed for him, taking care of him day and night. Never told him about the asthma. Then she contracted whooping cough. He hadn’t been there for her in the toughest time of her life. And he’d always been there. That grieved him the most.
God, please forgive me. I know I don’t deserve it. And I know that You already have forgiven me. But I feel this need to confess over and over again. How do I help my family now? Where do we go from here?
All this time Chuck had on his hands had led him to long conversations with the Lord. And plenty of Bible reading. He’d always thought that he had a good relationship with God, but it was growing. God had been doing a mighty work on his heart. Which he desperately needed. Even still, would he be able to make a difference with his granddaughters? He’d failed Melly. He couldn’t fail them too.
He felt a new challenge in his soul. He’d faced death—multiple times. For some reason, the good Lord had given him a second chance. And a third. What would he do with it?
After Maddy’s birthday party, she’d sat beside his bed telling him how awful she felt that she didn’t want to forgive her father. Guilt riddled him over her anguish. The fault for that lay squarely on his own shoulders. Had he ever said a decent word about his son-in-law? The torment was what he deserved. The anguish his granddaughter was in was because of him.