Please help the rain be enough to stop the fire.
Please let the rain protect the town.
Please allow only one section of the Amoses shipyard to have been destroyed and not the entire thing.
She stood there for a long moment, staring up into the sky, trying to tell herself that everything would be all right, and the entire town wouldn’t burn because of her father. Then she tromped up the front steps and reached for the door.
Foster wasn’t waiting for her. She hadn’t expected him to be there at such a late hour, but she also hadn’t expected to find voices coming from the sitting room off the foyer either.
It wasn’t a room her father used often, only when he was hosting guests whom he didn’t want in his study. And he never used the room at this time of night.
The door was cracked open just enough to let sound spill out, and lamplight flickered inside the sitting room, throwing warped shadows across the Persian rug. She peeked through the small opening to find her father standing near the fireplace, still dressed in his formal coat and cravat, though the top button of his shirt was undone and his usually slicked-back hair fell haphazardly across his brow. The two men seated across from him were nothing like the gentlemen he typically entertained. Dressed in ragged coats and muddy boots, they slouched in the parlor’s expensive leather chairs. One of them had a rag tied around his wrist, and she could smell traces of smoke even from the hall.
“Only one building?” Her father made a slashing motion with his hand. “I paid you to burn the entire thing to the ground! What about the ship in the dry dock? Did you at least burn that?”
The thin man closest to the fire shifted in his seat. “They was there. It was like they was expectin’ it, like they was waitin’. No sooner did Billy pull out his torch than we heard shoutin’.”
The second man, broader and wearing a felt hat, leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “The lumber was the only thing we was able ta burn, and that was sheer luck. Frank’ere tossed his torch over the fence after we ran. We didn’t think it would hit nothin’, but it caught the lumber shed on fire.”
“And that was when we left and came here.” The skinny man shoved a hand into his hair. “You owe us the rest of the money. Where is it?”
Her father didn’t move from his position near the fire. “I said half upon accepting the job and half upon completion. Seeing how ninety percent of the shipyard is still standing, I wouldn’t call that complete.”
“But we started a fire.” The wiry man threw up his hands. “Got the whole town down there right now tryin’ ta put ’er out.”
“And in the morning, the whole town will be looking for the arsonists.” Her father stared straight at the arsonist. “I suggest you leave town now, as discussed, before anyone finds you.”
The two men exchanged a look, then the big one stood, his body looming over her father. “Not without our money.”
Her father maintained his stance, not seeming to care that the other man had six inches on him. “I’m not paying you anything more for a job that wasn’t even half done, and I won’t change my mind. But if you want to stay and take your chances with the Deputy Marshal—who just so happens to be related to the Amoses—be my guest.”
Rosalind straightened, ready to head back out into the night. She knew enough to incriminate her father and warn the Deputy Marshal about the arsonists who would surely try leaving the island before dawn. But the small movement caused her elbow to accidentally bump the door.
The broad man turned. “Well, well, well, who’s this charming lass, Caldwell? She wouldn’t happen to be yer daughter, would she?”
“Out,” her father snapped. “Both of you. Now.”
“But you still haven’t?—”
“Get out of my house.” Her father shoved a finger toward the door. “And I suggest you get off the island before you’re caught.”
The skinny man stood, and Rosalind used the time to slip inside the room. She ignored the lecherous way both men looked at her as they shoved their way past her, and she pinned her gaze on her father.
“How could you?” she spat the moment the front door slammed shut.
“What are you wearing?” Her father barked in response.
She knew she looked affright. Her hair was windblown and damp, her face wet from the rain, and her nightgown half sodden beneath her open coat. But she was too angry to care. “Paying men to burn down someone’s business, Father? Really? You could have caught the entire town on fire.”
Her father’s jaw clenched. “Do you know how many difficulties that family has caused your uncle and me?”
“No.” She stalked toward her father. “All I see is a wholly good family trying to do what’s best for Alaska, and you trying to destroy them for it. Why did you do it?”
His eyebrow quirked, and he loosed a cruel laugh. “Can’t you guess?”
The sound of his laugh caused her anger to drain away. What was she thinking, coming here by herself and confronting her father? Her heart pounded against her chest, not because her blood was racing, but because it had turned icy cold.
Her father had discovered the missing ledgers. That had to be it. He’d found out what she’d done with them, and now he was trying to burn everything the Amoses owned to the ground so the evidence would be destroyed.
