Chapter 26
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Radioville, AK
A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat in the sand near Joe’s foot. Steam from his coffee filled his nostrils, and the heat from his blue enamelware mug warmed his hands against the morning cold.
Across Smooth Channel toward Chichagof Island, a pod of killer whales played in the distance. One slapped its tail repeatedly on the surface of the water.
Still gloatin over sinkin my boat, are ya?
The rising sun was just behind the rugged snowcapped mountains, and the sky was a radiant orange.
The days were getting longer fast. Within a few weeks the sun would be rising at 3 or 4 a.m. and wouldn’t set again until near midnight.
More daylight and warmer days meant more time to get things done, and Joe had a lot of work to do.
The garden had been particularly productive in early spring, and he needed to can some vegetables while they were fresh.
He had dug a large root cellar himself. The dark underground pantry was perfect for keeping his rations fresh and cool, out of the reach of frost, sunlight, and critters.
Now it was nearing empty, and he knew it would be a long slog to fill it up with preserves before winter returned.
He also planned to catch some halibut and king salmon on the spring run to pack into jars.
Nothing helped fight off a dark Alaska Territory winter like some pickled fish.
He had also burned down the supply of aged firewood more than usual over the winter, and he needed to start a new row to begin seasoning for a future year.
Joe picked up the whiskey bottle and tilted it back and forth.
The operation had been remarkably successful so far. With the loss of his coded journal, he could only estimate from memory how much gold he had stashed in his woodpile drop safe, but it had to be a lot.
The brown liquid moved hypnotically from the top to the bottom. He set it back down on the log.
With Sam Worlson wanting to cash out of the deal, he would be expecting to be paid for a third of what he had stolen.
Joe had hoped Sam would lose track over the years.
With them cashing out early, Sam would probably know pretty close to what he was actually owed.
Joe didn’t see a solution besides giving up his share of the cash in the account.
Since Joe had secretly skimmed half the gold off the top, the drop safe had an amount of gold equal to whatever he and Fellows had sold.
That meant Fellows would have to cash out the entire company account, and then Joe would need to quietly give Sam both Sam’s third and his own third in order for Sam to get what he was expecting.
Joe would still have the gold in the woodpile, as long as Fellows never found out.
He needed to be more careful than ever not to let Sam and Fellows meet, or they would both learn that Joe had been skimming.
Fellows was young and impulsive. He spent way too much time and probably way too much of their business money on fancy garb.
Still, Joe trusted him as long as things went as planned.
If they went off script, he worried about how Fellows might react.
He’d also bruised his trust with Sam by not passing along the message about Sam’s wife. Maybe, if he could repair that trust, Sam would decide to stay longer and the whole episode with his wife would just blow over. It might be worth a shot.
Joe considered sending a message pretending to be Sam, trying to get Sam’s wife to reconcile with him. With the depressed economy, maybe it was about money. Could Joe send some cash on Sam’s behalf and maybe smooth things over?
Joe kicked the bottle over in the sand. If Sam did leave, Joe was reluctant to look for another insider at the mine.
Recruiting was a dicey business and could easily backfire and land him in jail.
He had a fortune in the woodpile already.
If Sam actually left, maybe it was time to call it a day.
Fellows would be upset, but what could he do?
The sun broke over the mountains and lit the surrounding islands, creating a breathtaking panorama from Joe’s beach.
An eagle circled overhead, searching for prey along the shore.
This place was magnificent. He sipped the last of his coffee and brushed the grounds from the bottom of the cup off his lips.
The sunlight illuminated a huge pile of broken glass bottles that lay shattered next to the rocks a few yards away.
The bottles and the sand that surrounded them sparkled like precious gems.
Joe threw the whiskey bottle at the rocks. It shattered, splashing whiskey on the pile of glass. He needed to be dry today. He needed to be dry every day, but today was important. Today, he could manage.
Back inside, Joe decided to see if the money angle might work for his own situation.
My Dear Mel,
I know I’m a radio man and could send a telegram, but you used to say you loved getting letters from your Mom more than seeing her.
Remember you always told me I was lousy with money? Well, guess what? I’ve gotten a lot better. Been saving up to help you and the kid. But with this damn depression going on, I was wondering if you could use some help sooner. If so, I can wire you some money via Western Union.
Anyhow, let me know if there’s anything I can do. I miss you and our boy like crazy. Drop me a line when you can.
Joe
He put the letter into an envelope, addressed it, and added it to a stack he already had waiting to be mailed.
There were three other letters in the stack, all for Melinda.
He felt a little pathetic, writing day after day, never hearing back.
But it kept him grounded, feeling like he had a connection—even if he was only broadcasting.