The form was three pages long and filled with questions. Alexei’s eyes landed on a question halfway down the first page.What’s your view of using government boarding schools to assimilate the next generation of Indian children into American culture?
He crumpled the paper in his hand.
The governor chuckled again, then leaned back in his chair. “That’s what I thought. The policy goes into effect at the beginning of February.”
“The beginning of February? That’s less than a month.”
Governor Caldwell shrugged, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve. “Best say your good-byes then.”
“And if I don’t follow this order?” There was no way the government could enforce such an absurd restriction, not considering the vast, remote landscape of Alaska. He’d likely be able to visit all of the villages on that list without anyone from the government ever finding out.
“You can test me if you want, but I don’t advise it.” The governor reached for his pen and dipped it into the inkwell. “The people who do usually lose.”
Alexei’s jaw tightened. He turned and strode toward the door. His hand was already on the knob, ready to wrench the door open, when the governor called him back.
“Oh, and Alexei, one more thing.”
Alexei turned to find the governor holding out another stack of papers.
He walked back to the desk and swiped them out of the man’s hand. “What are these? More forms for me to fill out?”
“No. It’s the cancellation of three ship building commissions.” The governor tapped a finger against the top page. “I’ve found a shipyard down in San Francisco that can do the work instead.”
Alexei’s fingers clenched around the stack as he scanned the official, neatly inked lines. “You’re canceling...”
His throat tightened as his gaze trailed over the top page that referenced three different contracts with different ship names and specifications. The Amos Family Shipyard had been scheduled to build all three of the government vessels at various points over the next two years.
Not anymore.
Part of him wanted to ask why, but he already knew the answer.
Just like he knew fighting would be useless.
7
San Francisco; One Day Later
Yuri didn’t have three signed shipping contracts.
He had eleven.
He’d been in San Francisco only four days, but he’d learned almost immediately that the docks were marvelously fun. They were always busy, with ships arriving and leaving at all hours. The warehouses employed people who worked through the night, illuminated by electric lights on the docks and a mixture of gas and electric lighting inside the various warehouses.
It turned out all a man had to do was stop and spend an hour or so talking to one of the smaller vendors or warehouse owners, and he could come away with a shipping contract that was good for two or three years.
He was starting to see why Alexei wanted that metal barge so badly. He wasn’t sure he could offer another vendor a shipping contract unless they actually had an additional ship they could use to fulfill it.
Good thing his brother had all but purchased the barge already.
Things had been going so well at the docks that when Yuri finally made his way across the city to the Farnsworth Shipyard that afternoon, he half expected to find a gleaming vessel just waiting for a bit of polish.
Instead, he found himself staring at a sinking bucket of rust that would need an unimaginable amount of work.
The Farnsworth Shipyard itself was something of beauty. A massive dry dock dominated the yard’s center, where a brand-new iron-hulled vessel rose from the scaffolding. Cranes and hoists loomed over it, their long arms swinging materials into place, and a small army of workers swarmed the ship, some hammering rivets, others welding seams, and others securing steel plates to the ship’s frame.
He didn’t need to have a degree in naval architecture to know the ship was a marvel of engineering. Smooth steel plating stretched along its hull, catching the afternoon sun.
The vessel had money behind it. A lot of money.
