Poppy: Bride of Alaska (American Mail-Order Bride 49) by Cassie Hayes

from her lips. Indeed, the clouds that had obscured Mt. Edgecumbe’s peak quickly dissipated, allowing a full view of the extinct volcano’s crater.  
    “How long has it stood there and been forced to watch man’s evil ways?” she mused to no one in particular.
    A shudder wracked her small frame, and Matthew immediately shucked his heavy coat to wrap around her shoulders.  
    “We’re not all evil, Poppy. We may not be perfect, but that doesn’t mean we’re evil.”
    Her lips pursed, as if about to argue, but a quick glance at their hosts stilled her tongue. Instead she muttered a ‘thank you’ and spun in a slow circle to take in the rest of the vista. The mountains of Baranof Island rose high behind them like a green-black wall.  
    Below, forms bustled along the wharf and through town, the thin layer of snow not doing much to slow anyone’s pace. Rising from the center of town, the incongruous sight of St. Michael’s Cathedral, the famous onion-domed Russian Orthodox Church, drew the eye. Large warehouses mixed with smaller homes in a surprisingly delightful way. All in all, despite the grey skies, it was an appealing place.
    “I can see why you’ve been so eager to visit,” he told Poppy as they inched their way back down the stairs to the waiting carriage on Lincoln Street, Sitka’s main thoroughfare. Her look said she didn’t believe him. Perfectly understandable but still disappointing.
    “This is the Rancherie, the Indian village,” Reverend Austin explained with a wrinkled nose as they made their way past shabby, dismal dwellings dotting the waterfront. “Many of our students come from here. We give them a better life.”
    “Oh really?”  
    Matthew jerked at Poppy’s sneer. What had gotten into her? Mrs. Austin looked just as puzzled as he felt.  
    “Why, yes, dear. They live in squalor here, but at our mission, they’re well-clothed, well-fed, and well-educated. Wouldn’t you agree that’s a better life?”
    “Not if they’re torn from their mothers’ loving arms.”
    Mrs. Austin gasped.  
    “We would never do such a thing! Where would you get such an idea?”
    Confusion and uncertainty filled Poppy’s sparkling blue eyes.  
    “I just thought…Eddie said…um…” She trailed off, her cheeks burning pink.
    “I apologize for my wife, Reverend and Mrs. Austin. She’s tired from the voyage, and I’m afraid she must have misunderstood some comment or another.”
    Poppy bristled and opened her mouth to object, but his warning glance shut it quickly. Alienating their hosts on the day of their arrival wasn’t the smartest thing in the world to do, the glance said. It also said, shut that pretty mouth of yours.  
    “Of course, you’re tired, dear,” Mrs. Austin said kindly, patting Poppy’s knee. “Reverend, perhaps we should postpone the rest of the tour for a few days. There will be plenty of time to show them around their beautiful new home.”
    Sitting in the front without a coat, Matthew agreed wholeheartedly.  
    “That’s fine, Mother. I’ll bring Matt back to town tomorrow for a little shopping and to meet some folks.”
    The little carriage trundled down the road past the Rancherie, warehouses and curio shops. Matthew could almost see how crowded the street would be during the summer tourist season, packed with wealthy Americans just off the steamships buying all manner of silly souvenirs from the natives. And, of course, the row of shops that dotted the road.
    A man stepped out of one, leaning his large frame against the doorjamb. Dark eyes peered out from a bushy black brow as the man sucked on the edge of his mustache, watching a young boy of about twelve play with a dog in the street, dodging carriages and horses.  
    Matthew’s heart lodged in his throat as his eyes bore into the man. Could it be him? The last time he’d laid eyes on Vinchenko, he’d been leaving for college. This man was thicker than he remembered his father’s old business associate