Her father disembarked and waited at the bottom of the steps. Laurel stood on the landing, then slowly took the steps. “You look like you're half asleep,” Will said, taking her hand.
Laurel wasn't paying attention. Instead her eyes moved beyond the station to rows and rows of tents with metal smokestacks protruding from canvas roofs. They'd been pitched in an open, muddy field. This was home, a tent city in a sea of mud? she thought. Dejected, she walked beside her father and brother.
The camp had been erected in a broad valley. Rugged, snow-capped mountains bordered the basin like giant guardians. Forests bordered lush meadows and cleared ground. Beyond the tent city, Laurel could see farmhouses, barns, and fenced pastures with grazing cattle. She felt slightly better. At least there was some sense of order and domestication in this wild place. And she couldn't deny that although it was remote, the Matanuska Valley was beautiful.
She felt a sting on her cheek, then one on her hand. Mosquitoes had descended. She swatted at them, but they persisted, their whine setting Laurel on edge. A man shouted instructions, but she didn't hear, distracted by her battle with the determined insects. Finally, fumbling to hang on to her bag and hold her coat over her head as a shield from the biting pests, she followed her father and brother to a waiting pickup. She could feel the itch of rising welts.
Adam ran ahead. He snapped a picture of the driver, then climbed into the back of the truck and focused his camera on the approaching colonists.
A young man wearing a netted hat glanced at Adam. Deciding to ignore him, he turned to the newcomers. “Welcome to the Matanuska. Sorry about the mosquitoes. They're always bad this time of year.” He hefted their bags along with several others onto the back of the pickup. “Climb in,” he said and scrambled into the cab.
When everyone was settled, the engine fired and the truck jumped forward. Laurel toppled into Adam, who caught her and gently set her back in place. “Thanks,” she mumbled, wishing it had been anyone else.
Mud churned under the tires and splattered into the back of the truck and onto the passengers. Gritting her teeth, Laurel wiped a clump of black muck off her arm.
They bumped over a rutted, muddy road and pulled into another camp of tents. The truck stopped midway, tents on both sides. If it were possible, the mire was worse here.
Still swatting at mosquitoes and keeping her lips pressed tightly together to make sure none found their way into her mouth, Laurel climbed out of the truck. She slipped in the mud, but Robert grabbed hold and kept her from falling. She smiled her thanks and lifted her feet, sludge sucking at her shoes.
Holding a list of names, the driver stood in front of the small collection of newcomers. “Sorry for the mess, but we just got these tents up. We'll have duckboards set down in a day or two.”
“What's a duckboard?” Laurel whispered.
“Wooden slats,” Will explained.
“That should make walking easier,” the driver continued. “We've had a warm, wet spring, but it ought to dry up soon. We've had a couple of dry days, and we're hoping it lasts.” He glanced at his list.
Before he could continue, Laurel asked, “Are the mosquitoes always this bad?” She knew she sounded whiny but was aggravated enough not to care.
The young man offered an apologetic smile. “They're pretty awful most of the summer, but you'll find hats with netting and Citronella in your tents. Here in Alaska, you take the bad with the good.” He glanced at his list, then looked at the colonists. “Also …” He cleared his throat. “There aren't enough tents for all you folks plus the families that'll be joining you. So, until we can get more set up, some families will have to share.”
Laurel nearly groaned out loud. With mosquitoes buzzing around her face and her feet sinking deeper into the mud, she waited beside her father and brother while tent assignments were read. The handle on her suitcase cut into her hand.
Since the Haspers were a large family, they weren't asked to share a tent. Kicking up mud, Luke ran to their designated home and disappeared through a canvas door. A few moments later he stuck out his head. “Come on. Hurry up. It's not bad.” Again he disappeared inside, and the door fell back into place.
Will draped an arm around Laurel's shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “It can't be that bad.”
They walked to the tent, and Will held the door for Laurel. She stepped inside, thankful to get away from the mosquitoes. Their temporary house was one large room with wood planking for a floor. A coal and wood-burning cook stove stood against the wall to her right, and a large cabinet stocked with food took up the space beside it. The other three walls were lined with beds, five in all. Small meshed windows let in fresh air and light. Though the room was bare, it was clean and tidy, except for Luke's fresh mud prints.
He plopped down on a bed. “This is pretty nice.”
Will walked through the tent, surveying the space. “They've been real nice to give us beds with springs and mattresses.” He smiled at Laurel. “When your mother gets our things in here, it'll look real homey.”
“Where will we put everything?” Laurel asked.
“We'll manage.” Will set his bag on the floor beside one of the beds. “I'd sure like to get a look at the land tracts.”
“Knock, knock,” someone called from outside.
Will pulled aside the flap. “Robert. Come on in.”
Wearing a friendly smile, Robert removed a netted hat and bent over so he could fit his six-foot-three-inch frame through the door. He nodded at Luke, then turned warm, serious eyes on Laurel.
“Is your tent this big?” Luke asked.
Robert glanced around the room. “I'd say it's exactly the same.” He turned to Will. “I found a local who said he'd take us out to look at some of the plots. Would you like to go?”
“You betcha. I was just sayin' I'd like to get a look.” Will glanced at Laurel and Luke. “You two want to go along?”
“You couldn't keep me away,” Luke said, striding out of the tent.
Laurel set down her bag. “What about the mosquitoes?” She scratched a welt on her wrist.
“Some of these were in my tent,” Robert said as he held up his netted hat.
Will scanned the room. “Here's some,” he said and walked to the cabinet, picking up three. He placed one on his head. “This should help.”
“Thank goodness,” Laurel said, taking one and pulling it down over her hair and carefully arranging the netting around her face and neck. She followed Robert and her father outside.
A wagon with two large plow horses in harness waited in front of the tent. A tall, slender man sitting in front looked down at them. He smiled and removed his hat, revealing dark brown curls. “I'm Tom Jenkins. Welcome to the valley.”
Will shook the man's hand. “Will Hasper. This is my son, Luke, and my daughter, Laurel.” He chuckled. “She's been trying to pass as a man, but I guess it doesn't matter now.”
“You're too pretty to overlook, ma'am, even in that getup. I expect the officials chose to let you pass.”
Laurel blushed. “Thank you, Mr. Jenkins.”
“And I guess you've already met Robert,” Will continued.