Read Online [Song of Alaska 02] - Morning's Refrain by Tracie Peterson - Free Book Online Page A

better.”
    Phoebe nodded. “I’ll let her know.” The clock chimed the hour, and Phoebe put aside her tea. “Oh my. I suppose I should load the bear fat and return home. Mother will be expecting me.”
    Zerelda glanced up. “Have you warmed up sufficiently? I wouldn’t want you catching a cold. Summer colds are so miserable.”
    “I’m fine. I really enjoyed our visit. Maybe I could come another time and hear more about the island and the Tlingit people?”
    Zerelda smiled. “I’d like that very much. Please feel free to come by any time. You needn’t wait for an invitation.”
    “I’ll remember that.” Phoebe thought briefly of Dalton and how nice it might be to run into him, as well. Her cheeks warmed at the memory of their last encounter. Stumbling over the edge of the rug, Phoebe barely caught herself before crashing headlong into the back of Zerelda.
    Goodness, but I’ve become such a clumsy oaf since moving to Sitka. If I’m not careful people will think me teched in the head. She straightened and realized Zerelda hadn’t even noticed. With a sigh, Phoebe continued on her way. It would be best to keep thoughts of Dalton at arm’s length. At least until she could be seated and not hurt herself or anyone else.

Chapter 6

    July 1889
    P hoebe anticipated the upcoming dance to welcome the new governor as much as a visit to the dentist. She had never really cared for parties, and while most of her friends were overjoyed at the prospect of dancing the night away, Phoebe longed only for the quiet of her room.
    “Ma says you’d better hurry,” her brother Theodore called from outside her door. “She said she and Pa are supposed to arrive with the governor, and that means we need to, also.”
    “I’ll be right there.”
    Phoebe worked at a stubborn curl, hoping to pin it securely. Her hair never wanted to cooperate when it really mattered. Studying the result in the mirror, Phoebe felt as satisfied as she could. Her long blond hair cascaded in ringlets from the top of her head and down her back. She’d learned how to create the popular style from the governor’s wife.
    The gown she’d chosen was one of her newer ones, made just before they’d come to Sitka. Cut from a lovely shade of pink silk, the underskirt stood out in sharp contrast to the plum- and pink-striped overskirt. The bodice was a combination of both colors, arranged with a gentle sweeping neckline.
    Phoebe sighed and took up her gloves. Already, she’d had numerous men come courting. Her mother assured her that it wasn’t unusual in a place where the men outnumbered the women ten to one. However, Phoebe was uncomfortable with all of the attention. Especially since the attention thus far hadn’t included Dalton Lindquist.
    “Well, here you are at last,” her father declared. “Come along or we’ll be late.”
    “You look like a pink circus tent,” her little brother announced.
    “Grady, that was unkind. Phoebe looks nothing of the sort,”
    their mother admonished.
    “Well, remember that circus we went to last year? The tent was all striped and—”
    “Do be quiet,” Mother demanded. “We are about to join the governor and his wife.”
    Grady giggled and poked Theodore in the side. Phoebe shook her head. It promised to be a long evening.
    There was great pomp and ceremony—at least as much as the people of Sitka could arrange. Phoebe was impressed with the festivities, but even more so with the ensemble that played for the event. Having loved music all of her life, Phoebe had once performed with Montpelier’s orchestra, playing her flute. In fact, her music was the one thing that had kept her sane on the long trip by ship to Alaska.
    To Phoebe’s surprise, Lydia Lindquist appeared to be the leader of the little orchestra. Dressed impeccably in a gown of dark gold, the woman was a striking figure as she spoke to her fellow musicians. Phoebe could see that along with Lydia and her violin, there was a cellist, a French horn