Page 78 of Hunter

“Make sure he hears them before you go.”

“I will.”

“And Isabella,” she says, “of course we’ll miss him if he leaves, but we’ll survive if it’s what’s best for him.” She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “Ifyou’rewhat’s best for him.”

“I can’t take him away from all of you.”

“You can,” she says gently, “if he chooses to go.”

“Won’t you hate me for it?” I ask, my voice thin with emotion.

“No,” she says. “We could never hate you for making him happy. And besides, we won’t really lose him if you two come back every summer.” She lets go of my hand and slides off the bed, looking at her watch. “I’ve got to get home. Joe’s got an early start in the morning.”

“Hey, Harper,” I say, grateful beyond measure for her wise and loving counsel. “Thank you.”

She smiles at me. “Just love him as hard as you can, okay?”

“I will,” I say, knowing in my heart that it’ll be an easy promise to keep.

Chapter 13

Hunter

“Imagine hundreds of prospectors arriving every day to mine for gold,” I say to my tour group of sixteen. “Skagway was a burgeoning town of twenty thousand permanent, temporary, and transient souls. To put that number in perspective, there are about two thousand people living and working in Skagway this summer, and anywhere from six to ten thousand tourists visiting on any given day. So, look around, folks. Skagway is packed this afternoon, right? But if you want to imagine what it was like during the Gold Rush, go ahead anddoublethe number of people you see in town today!”

My small group looks around, mumbling to one another as they try to imagine the streets of Skagway packed with hopeful miners, canny shopkeepers, and scantily clad dance hall girls.

“Mr. Stewart?”

I look to my left where a little girl has her hand raised. With twin blonde braids, a gap-toothed smile, and a Princess Cruises T-shirt, she’s about as cute as can be.

“Yes, darlin’? You got a question for me?”

She nods. “Did theyallfind gold?”

“Nope.” I grimace theatrically for her. “They sure didn’t.Mostdidn’t, in fact.”

“That’s sad,” she says, frowning at me. “They came all the way here for nothing.”

“Well,” I say, “some of them opened businesses and stayed. Others had a grand adventure. And there were the lucky few who made their fortune.”

I don’t mention the 60,000 who died en route to the Klondike goldfields. It’s too depressing for my young friend.

“Who here has heard of the department store, Nordstrom?” I ask the group.

All of the ladies and most of the men raise their hands.

“One prospector by the name of John Nordstrom spent two years up north looking for gold. And guess what? He hit a mother lode. He left Skagway with $13,000—that’s about half a million by today’s standards—returned to Seattle, and started his business.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it. When we’re leading tours, we have a strict rule about staying totally engaged with our group with the exception of one beer and bathroom break, which isn’t for another thirty minutes.

“Now, if you’ll all follow me down Broadway, we’re going to take a peek inside the Purple Parsnip, which is one of the oldest continually running businesses in town.”

We’re just in time to catch Bruce’s crowd-pleasing Soapy Smith reenactment, then continue to the Skagway Museum, followed by a quick stop at “The House of Negotiable Affection,” a 120-year-old, still-standing crib-style brothel.

By the time we get to the Skagway Brewery for our scheduled beer-flight stop, I’m as parched as my group and grateful for a fifteen-minute break from talking. After I have them set up at a table with samples of the local brew, I fish my phone out of my pocket to see who was calling me earlier.

Missed call from Kit Walsh.