At the Mountain's Edge

by Genevieve Graham

  “I do, sir,” Ben replied, more certain than ever about the challenge that lay ahead.

  Steele regarded Thompson. “Questions, Sergeant?”

  “Says in your Depot file you got a problem with fighting.” It was the first time Ben had heard Thompson speak. His voice was gruff, as if he didn’t use it all that often. “That right?”

  “Not anymore, Sergeant.”

  “Saw that too.” He hesitated. “What I want to know is, you still got that anger in you?”

  Ben wasn’t sure how to answer, but win or lose he had to tell the truth. “I reckon it’s part of who I am, Sergeant.”

  When neither of them responded right away, Ben’s heart sank. Had he said the wrong thing? The men behind the desk exchanged another quick glance, then Thompson nodded.

  “I ride to Calgary tomorrow morning,” Thompson said.

  Ben hesitated, not sure what he was saying. “Yes, Sergeant. And I’d like to go with you.”

  Thompson’s beard twitched with what Ben would have sworn was amusement. “Good, because you are.”

  Ben grinned, caught up in a swell of relief and anticipation “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”

  Liza

  FIVE

  Liza looked out the grimy window of their Dyea hotel room, mesmerized by the river of strangers flowing by. Most, she knew, would be headed to Dawson City, but a fair number showed no immediate signs of continuing on, which baffled her. Why would anyone want to stay in this cold, miserable excuse of a town when the promise of treasure lay ahead? Even with the mountain trek looming before her, Liza couldn’t wait to get out of here.

  Her father’s original plan had been to spend no more than one night in Dyea, where they would rest briefly and prepare for the next leg of the journey. But Liza’s mother had fallen ill again, this time with a bad cold she’d caught from being out in the freezing rain the day before, hauling heavy bags around that absurdly long beach.

  “I just need a hot cup of tea and I’ll be fine,” she’d protested, sitting up in bed.

  “I admire your determination, Agatha,” Liza’s father said, easing her back onto her pillow. “But we both know you will need more than that. Get some rest, my dear. The trail can wait a day or two.”

  “I do apologize for the delay, Arthur.”

  “Don’t give it another thought.” He patted her hand. “All shall be well.”

  Even as her father reassured her, Liza could see he was anxious to get moving, as was Stan. Her brother was not generally a patient person, and any delay in this voyage clearly frustrated him. As they dined that morning on a vastly overpriced breakfast of dry flapjacks, eggs, and fried strips of pork, Liza tried to raise their spirits.

  “She will feel better soon,” she told them. “Let’s look at this in a positive light. I know you will both deny it, but we are all tired after the voyage and the landing. A break will do us good. Why don’t you two explore the town today? I shall stay with Mother and make sure she is all right.”

  Temporarily appeased, the men had set off, and Liza had brought tea with a bit of honey to her mother. Once she was sound asleep, Liza had nothing to do but look out the window. It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that her father returned.

  “Knock, knock!” he said quietly.

  “She fell asleep an hour ago,” Liza replied softly, turning from the window. “So she will probably sleep another hour or so.”

  Liza’s father shrugged out of his coat and folded it over a chair. “You must be tired of being cooped up in here. Why don’t you go exploring now? Stan’s downstairs waiting for you.”

  Liza didn’t wait to be asked twice. She was up and out the door as fast as she could go.

  “How is she?” Stan asked, glancing up from a copy of The Dyea Press.

  “Better. A few more days is all she needs.”

  “Good. I’m losing my mind in this place.”

  “You are? I’ve only seen it from the window!” Liza cried. “So now it’s up to you to show me around.”

  He held out his arm. “With pleasure.”

  The streets were crowded with rough-looking men and wandering animals—most of which were thin as rails—and Liza was aware of eyes on her. She’d known that her presence would draw attention, but the lewd comments of the man on the boat had made her situation feel that much more perilous. She held Stan’s arm a bit tighter as they walked along the main street, and she tried to focus on the variety of shopfronts rather than her own nerves.

  Commerce was everywhere, she saw, from banks and real estate brokers to ladies of ill repute crooking fingers of invitation to every man who passed. Lumber was stacked as high as buildings, and men loaded and unloaded wagons all along the wide street. The largest building in town bore a sign saying Healy & Wilson, identifying itself as a trading post, hotel, and restaurant. Her father had mentioned Healy before, calling him a trailblazer since he had built the very first shop in Dyea, but when Stan and Liza stepped inside his store and checked around she was unimpressed. Healy had a great deal of stock, but little thought had been spared for presentation, and Liza couldn’t get over the unbelievably high prices. In fact, every shop window along the street displayed signs advertising similar ludicrous “bargains.”

  “How can they ask so much?” she wondered out loud.

  “Because they can,” Stan replied. “These men already traded their worlds for a dream of gold, so why wouldn’t they pay everything they had left to achieve it?” He grinned at her. “Oh, Liza. We’re going to be so rich.”

  One after another, people left Healy’s with their arms full of ridiculously priced purchases, and Liza started to believe Stan might be right. The thought buoyed her as they made their way up the muddy street. Dare she hope all this would work out as her father had planned? She squinted up at the mountains, hoping his optimism was well-founded, but it certainly wasn’t going to be easy. From what she could see, most of the trail was uphill.

  “Who’s that up there?” she asked, spotting a dozen or so men in the distance. They were gathered around tipis with their arms crossed, observing the passersby.

  “The Tlingit,” Stan replied. “I read about them.”

  Of course he had. “Klinkit?” she said, sounding out the word.

  “Yes. They’ve lived here forever along with the Tagish and the Hän. As a matter of fact, the Hän call this place ‘Tr’ondëk,’ which the first settlers mistakenly pronounced as ‘Klondike.’ ”

  “It’s amazing you can remember the day of the week with all that trivia in your head.”

  “Not trivia. Information.”

  That made her smile. “So tell me, what are they doing here?”

  “Prospectors hire them to help carry their baggage up the pass.”

  “They don’t look very big,” she noted.

  “Maybe not, but I’ve been watching them. They’re stronger than you’d think. They have to be. They have a long way to go.” He surveyed the snow-capped mountains, shielding his eyes with one hand. “Sixteen miles from here to the peak, they say, and those fellows do it over and over again with every new arrival.”

  Liza stopped. “Sixteen miles?” She was sure she’d known that before, but now that she stood here it seemed an impossible number. “How long will that take?”

  “I guess it depends on the climber,” Stan said, pausing beside her. “A man on the boat told me the whole trip from here, past the peak, then down to Dawson City took his brother about three months.”

  “Three months!”

  “Yes, but he also said it was worth every step once he got to the goldfields.”

  Liza did a quick calculation and realized her father had worked the timing out exactly. By the time her family got over the peak and arrived at Lake Bennett, the Yukon River would be just about ready to thaw, and then they would sail up the river and be among the first to arrive at Dawson City in the spring. As much as she hated the idea of winter travel, she had to admire her father’s planning.

 
Stan nudged her and nodded towards the Tlingit packers. Two of them had hoisted large packs onto their backs and were headed towards the mountain, followed by a string of travellers.

  “They might be small,” said Stan, “but I told you, they are mighty.”

  Over the next couple of days, the family resigned themselves to staying in Dyea a bit longer. Liza spent every morning with her mother and took heart when she saw her improving, but she was more than tired of sitting in that room. She looked forward to the afternoons, when her father would return and spell Liza off.

  “Stan should be back any minute to take you out,” he told her.

  Pulling on her coat, Liza headed downstairs to wait at the front door, but long minutes passed and Stan was nowhere in sight. Probably caught up in a conversation with no idea what time it was. Since they’d landed here, Liza had become convinced that her brother should consider a career in journalism, because he simply couldn’t resist approaching strangers and asking them a stream of questions.

  She gazed longingly at the street. After days of grey weather, it was finally bathed in sunlight.

  “Come on,” she muttered, her fingers tapping against her skirt. “Let’s go, Stan.”

  Back in Vancouver she’d been able to walk almost anywhere by herself during the day, and though she was well aware this place was nothing like Vancouver, she couldn’t help toying with the idea of setting out on her own. For the most part, the men she saw appeared to be caught up in their own errands. What were the chances anyone would even notice if she walked among them? She’d stay to the side of the street, calling as little attention to herself as possible. She doubted anyone would try anything untoward in broad daylight, and she could ignore any unpleasant comments that came her way. They were only words, after all.

  When she pushed the door open, the sunshine reached for her, and its touch felt like heaven on her skin. She took a step, then another, moving cautiously onto the ragged walkway that connected Dyea’s false-fronted buildings. As she suspected, she received a few passing glances, but no one seemed particularly interested in her. She would stay vigilant, but for now she felt relatively safe.

  A little way down the walkway, she paused outside a shop, curious about an unusual-looking hat for sale, and was about to wander inside when she heard an odd noise. She listened again and realized it was a whimper. Curious, she walked around the side of the shop and came upon a filthy white dog lying in the shadow of the building.

  “Blanche!” she cried.

  The dog was still, but her eyes opened at Liza’s cry. As Liza came closer, Blanche tried without success to raise her head, but she did manage to lift the tip of her tail in recognition. She was panting heavily, and her damaged paw was swollen into a repulsive, unnatural shape.

  “Sweet girl,” Liza breathed, crouching by the dog. Her fingers brushed over the outline of Blanche’s rib cage, clearly visible through her dirty coat. “I am so sorry for you.”

  That’s when she noticed three oddly shaped lumps lying in the mud by Blanche’s tail. Tears rushed to her eyes as she recognized the stillborn puppies for what they were.

  “Oh no. Poor, poor girl.” Liza stroked Blanche’s head.

  Blanche whimpered again, and a ripple of movement in her abdomen caught Liza’s attention. Moments later, a small, wet shape appeared under the dog’s tail, and though it wasn’t moving, Liza felt a spark of hope.

  “You can do this,” Liza told Blanche. “I promise I will take care of your baby somehow.”

  Blanche looked as if she could hardly keep her eyes open.

  “Please be strong. Just a little bit longer.”

  Then, with barely any visible effort, the puppy flushed out of its mother and landed in the muck. Blanche struggled to reach her baby, but she couldn’t summon the strength to move far enough. Without a second thought, Liza picked up the newborn and placed it on the ground by Blanche’s face. The new mother sniffed it, seeming to gain energy as her tongue swept over the puppy, removing the membrane, cleaning its muzzle and back before rolling the tiny body over. But the puppy—a female, Liza saw—didn’t move. She didn’t make a sound.

  Blanche looked at Liza, a startlingly human expression on her face, and Liza’s heart broke for her. Cupping the puppy in the warmth of her hands, she rubbed her thumbs in circles over the small body, willing it back to life.

  “Come on, little one,” she said, holding the puppy against her throat. “You have to live.”

  She could feel the puppy’s paws pressed to her neck, small as her baby finger, and the tiny ears tickled her skin. But the little one didn’t stir.

  “I’m sorry,” she said gently to Blanche. “We tried. You did your best.”

  As if she understood, Blanche’s sad brown eyes closed, and moments later she was gone. Liza felt sick to her stomach. Neither Blanche nor her babies had ever stood a chance in a place like this. Liza’s hands shook with emotion as she lifted the fourth motionless puppy to her face.

  “Oh, you poor dear. I wanted to meet you. I would have taken care of you.”

  Then Liza froze, startled by a slight quiver of movement between her hands. Had she imagined it? She turned the puppy onto her back and placed one finger on the small chest, her eyes closed in concentration. Beneath her touch, the fragile rib cage lifted and fell, lifted and fell, then one leg stretched out.

  Liza let out a cry of delight and clutched the precious little dog to her chest. “Don’t worry, little one. I will keep you safe. You’re my baby now, and I’ll never leave you.”

  She named the puppy Blue after the vivid shade of the sky on the day she was born, and with the help of the innkeeper and his goat, little Blue got stronger every day. She was mostly white, like her mother, but the floppy triangles of her sweet ears were dark, the bridge of her nose was spattered with spots, and she had a lone black patch on the centre of her chest. Blue fit perfectly inside Liza’s coat, just over her heart, and when Liza heard Blue’s little sounds or felt her wriggle within the folds of her coat, hope ballooned inside her. If this little creature could survive out here, she decided, then so could she.

  Three days later, Liza’s mother claimed she felt well enough to leave Dyea. In the early grey morning, the full glory of the sunrise still hid behind the mountains, the family began preparations to leave. Stan finished packing the wagon, and Liza and her mother waited for Liza’s father to settle his account with the hotel owner.

  “Do you really feel you are up to this?” Liza asked, concerned by her mother’s pale complexion. “I mean, are you strong enough?”

  “Whether I am or not, I must be.” She lifted her chin. “We’re on this path, and there’s no going back.”

  Liza reached inside her coat when she felt Blue squirm. “Would you like to carry Blue? She keeps me warm and boosts my spirit. I’m sure she’ll do the same for you.”

  “I would like that very much.” Her mother lifted the puppy up to study her more closely. “Hello there, Blue. You’re very pretty. I wonder if your eyes will be blue, like your name.”

  “Blue eyes? On a dog?”

  “I understand that’s a specialty of the dogs in the North.” She pressed Blue’s velvety coat to her cheek briefly then wrapped the puppy safely into her coat. “At least she will be comfortable on this journey, even if the rest of us are not.”

  Liza spotted Stan striding purposefully towards her, all business, and her heart sank. She had seen that expression before. “Uh-oh,” she muttered. “You’d better keep her hidden, Mother.”

  “We’re not bringing the dog with us,” Stan declared. “She’s another mouth to feed, another thing to worry about. We will have more than enough to keep us busy.”

  “Of course I’m bringing her!” Liza exclaimed. “She’s my dog. I would never abandon her.”

  “It’s too much work,” he objected.

  “Actually,” their father said, returning to the wagon, “I see nothing wrong with bringing the pup. In fact, she will most likely grow up to
be quite protective of our Liza, and in a place like Dawson City I imagine it might be beneficial for a young woman to have added protection.”

  Stan fumed, but Liza couldn’t help grinning at her victory. As if she’d understood the conversation, Blue chose that moment to poke her muzzle out from inside her mother’s coat.

  “Come on, Stan,” Liza said, gently scratching Blue’s ears. “Even you have to admit, she is the cutest thing.”

  But he kept walking, and he didn’t look back.

  “She’s your responsibility, Liza,” her father reminded her. “If you really want to keep her, you must take good care of her.”

  “Oh, I will, Father. Nothing’s going to hurt this sweet angel.”

  He touched the little head with one finger. “She might be an angel now, but as she gets bigger she’s going to keep you busy.”

  Just then the morning sun burst over the peaks, bathing the world in gold, lighting the trees and the rocks and the path they must follow. As her father headed towards the wagon, Liza took a deep breath, then blew it out slowly, finding a sense of courage in the sun’s warmth.

  “What is it Father says?” Liza asked her mother. “The greatest part of the reward is knowing how hard you worked to earn it?”

  Her mother took Liza’s hand. “I imagine we’ll have to remember that many times during this trek. At least we will be together,” she said, cocking her head towards Stan, “and we can remind each other of that whenever we forget.”

  Liza’s brother stood by the horse’s head, a little ways away, and she could see his annoyance in the way he avoided looking at her. She hadn’t meant to upset him. The two of them might have their spats, but she adored her brother. She needed him, too.

  “Stan,” she said as she approached, “I promise Blue won’t be a burden. And I’ll try not to be one either.”

  At that, he cracked a smile.

  Liza’s gaze rose up the face of the mountain, and the eagerness she’d embraced moments before melted away. The negligible slopes of Vancouver’s streets were the steepest terrain she’d ever walked, and right now all she could see were impassable forests through which they must hike, and impossible rock walls over which they must climb.