Klondike Medicine Woman. Linda Ford

watched in longing frustration.

      A few minutes later, the tent flap parted and Dr. Jacob and Burns shuffled out, the man who had lain without moving between them. He blinked in the sunshine and drew in a long breath, then murmured, “The sun feels good.”

      Dr. Jacob settled him against a roll of canvas and handed him a cup of water. “Can you tell us your name?”

      “Name’s Emery Adams.” He sounded weary, but at least he knew his name.

      Teena slid a happy glance toward Jacob and caught her breath at the look he gave her. “It is good he knows his name,” she murmured.

      “It is very good.” His gaze held hers, silently rejoicing. She couldn’t force her eyes away. Couldn’t think of anything but the shared gladness of this good news. At that precise moment, something happened she was at a loss to explain—a connection she’d never felt with anyone else, a spiritual experience almost as profound as when Mr. McIntyre told her about Jesus.

      She would never again feel the same inside.

      Jacob turned away first. “How did you injure yourself?”

      Emery snorted a bitter laugh and grabbed at his head. “Oh, it hurts.”

      Jacob touched the man’s shoulder. “Take it easy.”

      Emery closed his eyes a moment. “I was attacked. Someone sneaked up and hit me. I heard them coming. Guessed what they had in mind but didn’t have time to defend myself.” He glanced about. “Don’t suppose you found any of my belongings with me?”

      “I didn’t find you.” Jacob didn’t look toward Teena for two heartbeats. “This woman did.” He nodded toward her. “Did he have anything with him?”

      She stepped forward and faced the man. “Nothing.”

      Emery’s eyes narrowed. “’Course not. Indians believe in finders keepers. No respect for a man’s belongings.”

      Teena felt his dislike of her. Knew it was based on her being a Tlingit and no other reason. Little did he understand that a Tlingit’s honor would never allow them to touch the belongings of another.

      Nor would there be thanks from this man. Not even for saving his life. She moved away, out of his sight.

      Frankie edged closer. “Did you get a look at your attackers?”

      “’Fraid not.”

      “Can you remember anything at all? A word? Their boots? Anything at all?”

      Emery squinted. “I seem to remember one of them saying Harmon. I don’t know if it’s a name or what.”

      Frankie squatted to eye level with Emery. “Can you describe any of your belongings? Something that makes them unique?”

      Emery patted his vest pocket. “My watch. It was a gift from my father.” He described it.

      “Good. That’s something to go on.” Frankie stood. “I’ll trot on over to the sheriff’s office and let him know.”

      She returned shortly with Sheriff Ed Parker, who made a few notes.

      “I’ll pass the information along. Someone will likely spot the watch. We’ll do our best to find it and the men who robbed you.” He touched the brim of his hat and left.

      “That’s enough for one day. It’s time to get you back to bed.” Jacob signaled to Burns and they helped the man back into the tent.

      Teena and the Tuckers returned to work.

      Teena knew the moment Jacob stepped out of the tent, even though she couldn’t see him. She didn’t need to. Her heart felt him with every beat.

      He poked his head around the wall she worked on.

      The hammer hung in midair—halfway between her nose and a nail she intended to pound. But she couldn’t move. He was too close. And he watched her.

      “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Emery had no right to accuse you of stealing. Please forgive him.”

      Her gaze sought his. He looked so regretful it stung her heart.

      “It’s not your fault. Why should you be sorry?”

      He shrugged and gave a crooked smile that melted every remnant of resentment at Emery’s accusations. “I just feel I should apologize for his behavior.”

      His smile widened and the inside of her head felt washed with honey. “Apology accepted.” She knew her smile was as wide as his.

      Suddenly his lips flattened, his expression darkened and he turned away.

      She hit the nail as hard as she could.

      He might apologize for others, but it didn’t change how he viewed her. Why did she think it would?

      Chapter Four

      “Doctor Calloway?”

      Jacob looked through his supplies, itching to arrange them properly on shelves. He turned toward the man calling his name… Mack Tanner with a woman and young child at his side. Jacob strode over to greet them. “About time you came to check on things.”

      “I’m not here to—”

      The woman laughed daintily. “Of course you are. Everyone knows how you have to make sure the whole town is run according to your guidelines.” She leaned closer to Jacob to murmur, “It keeps him far too busy trying to run the town and be preacher, too. If only he could find a preacher—persuade Thomas Stone to take the job—he could spend a little more time at home with us.”

      Mack looked like he might argue, then grinned. “Jacob, meet my wife, Lana. I’m afraid she understands me too well for me to be able to hide my true motivation.” He scooped up the little boy. “This is our son, Georgie.”

      The Tuckers had been working on the far wall of the building and hustled around to greet the visitors.

      Jacob waited, wondering why Teena hadn’t come, as well.

      Frankie clapped her hands. “Well, lookee here. A little man come to visit.”

      Georgie tried to escape Mack’s arms.

      “Hang on a minute.” Mack lowered the boy, his feet scrambling for motion long before he hit dirt.

      Georgie ran as fast as his short, unsteady legs would carry him toward the Tucker sisters. “Cookie?”

      Margie scooped him up and tousled his hair. “No cookies here. You’ll have to come visit us at home for one.”

      “I brought a cake,” Lana said, holding out a basket. “A welcome gift for the good doctor.”

      Jacob took it to his makeshift table. “Can I offer you tea?”

      “A tea party.” Frankie clapped her hands. “I love a good ol’ tea party.” She hesitated. “We are invited, aren’t we?”

      Jacob answered. “Of course. Everyone is. Make your selves comfortable.” He waved around to the assortment of “chairs”—two short stools, a taller one, several chunks of log standing on end and another, longer, one laid lengthwise. As the assorted crew settled, Jacob filled the kettle and set it on his tiny portable stove. From experience, he knew it would take a good long while to boil. Hopefully no one would mind.

      “Glad the building is coming along,” Mack said. “We’ll soon have the bell and stained-glass windows for the church. I’m expecting them to arrive any day.” He glanced toward the harbor. “Maybe on the next boat. I’d like to see the construction complete by the time it gets here.”

      The Tucker sisters talked at once and Lana tried to insert a comment.

      Mack held up his hand to silence them. “I know there’s lots of work to do yet. But with the sawmill now operating, it’s easier