*
Far across town, in a grand Victorian mansion, a single light shone from Phineas Muldoon’s third story window. The short, white-haired man sat alone in his library before a large, roll-top desk. On the desk, a kerosene lamp illuminated the map of Lake Namakagon that lay before him. Squinting through the lens of a magnifying glass, he studied the lands surrounding the lake.
The old man placed the glass on the desk and opened a drawer. He picked up a pen, dipped the tip into the inkwell, and then drew a circle on the map around the land owned by the Loken family.
“Come spring, Olaf Loken, you and your pitiful Namakagon Timber Company will be at my mercy. You will see what happens when you interfere in my business. And you will learn why I am called King. For, you see, Loken, I—have—you—now.”
Phineas Muldoon laid his pen on the blotter and capped the inkwell. Pushing his chair back, he stood, staring at the map with a grin. He leaned over his desk, cupped his hand around the glass chimney of the lamp, and, blowing into the chimney, he snuffed out the flame.
As the room went black King Muldoon repeated his words into the darkness. “I have you now, Loken, I—have—you—now.”
Chapter 34
The Loken Camp, January 1884
“Gee!” shouted the young lumberjack as he guided the team of Percherons. He followed Charlie Martin’s sleigh through the yard and out onto the frozen bay, already crowded with logs. “Whoa,” Tor ordered, before jumping from his roost atop the massive load of timber. “Good boys. Good boys,” he said, unhitching the horses. He walked them a few yards ahead.