The corners of her mouth twitched. “Has there ever been a time when you didn’t offer to help someone?”
Miller came to mind. “Uh, yeah.”
Her laugh was as sweet as honey. “Well, not around me. You’ve always tried to help me.”
The smile faded from his lips. “I’m afraid I wasn’t very successful. I’m sorry I couldn’t save your brother. I—”
He wanted to tell her how her cries still haunted him when he slept, how the knowledge that men had died under his watch would never leave him alone. Every part of him wished he could go back in time so he could dig until her brother emerged, healthy and whole.
But she surprised him. She reached for his hand and took it between both of hers. Her fingers were cool and soft, but the way she cupped them around his much larger hand felt strangely reassuring.
“Thank you, Ben,” she said.
“Liza—”
“No. No. Let me say this, please. I need to thank you for doing all you could that day. I know how hard you worked, and I know you didn’t want to leave us. I was cruel to you.” She bit her lip. “I blamed you for all my grief, for my family, for George, and even for Blue. And none of it was your fault.”
A strange, almost panicked sensation swept over Ben at her words. No one had ever spoken that way to him, as if it mattered what he thought or how he felt.
“It’s been months,” Liza said, talking almost to herself, “but I still can’t get them out of my mind. I try to bury them, let them go in peace, and for a while I feel almost normal. But when I see Keitl, and when I see you . . . it’s like you’re a tremor in the earth, and you bring them back to the surface so I have to face them again.” She swallowed. “And that’s when I remember how alone I am.”
He hated to see her suffer. Ben knew how to stop a fight, how to disarm a man, how to keep a great many things under control, but how could he ease her heartache? He turned his hand over so he was holding hers. “The truth is we’re all alone up here. The reason the saloons and the dining halls and the shops are so busy is that everyone’s trying not to get too lonely. But Liza, you’re not really on your own. You have Belinda. And Keitl.” He looked into her eyes, and for the first time in his life he realized he wasn’t alone, either. “I’m here too.”
Liza opened her mouth to say something, but a loud crack! sounded, followed by a scream. Keitl took off like lightning.
“What was that?” Liza cried.
“Gunshot. Gotta go,” Ben said, turning towards the noise.
“Be safe!” he heard her call as he ran.
There were at least eighty saloons in Dawson City, so Ben ran to the thick of them. A small crowd gathering outside the Red Feather Saloon caught his eye, and he edged through to see what was attracting their attention. His heart dropped at the sight of a body lying in the street, and as he got closer he saw there wasn’t much left of the man’s head. Where was Miller? he wondered, stooping to pick up the still-hot Colt .45 lying next to the body. He slid the gun into the back of his waistband. Another illegal handgun to investigate.
“Anybody see anything?” Ben asked the onlookers.
“Thomas never did know when to walk away from the wheel,” said a short, bald man, staring down at the deceased. “Shame. Nice enough fella.”
“You knew him?”
“Yeah. Thomas Wiedemann. From Missouri, I think he said.” The man lifted his hat, scratched his head. “I never seen nothing like what he did in there just now. He just kept putting down thousand-dollar bills on red. Ten times he did that. And ten times black came up. After that he told the bartender he was broke, threw back a whisky, then came out here and did this.”
“Where’d he get the pistol?”
The man’s hands plunged into his pockets, and he looked away. “Don’t know ’bout that.”
Ben scouted for anyone whose face might tell a different story, but he didn’t see a guilty expression in the whole crowd. But there was Miller hurrying towards him.
“Where you been?” Ben demanded.
Miller ignored him, just stopped by the body, hands on his hips. “Is it true?” he asked. “Is that Thomas Wiedemann?”
“It was.”
Miller snorted with disgust, then turned away. “Man owed me a hundred dollars.”
Liza
TWENTY-NINE
Ever since Belinda had mentioned that the Klondike Gold Rush might not last that long, Liza had kept her eyes open for opportunities, just as Belinda had advised. After working in the store for a few weeks, Liza had started to see how some of her stock might make a nice addition to Belinda’s. After all, it was just sitting in storage. Belinda agreed, and over a cup of tea they negotiated the percentage of profits she would take from the sale of Liza’s merchandise.
The venture filled Liza with a kind of energy she hadn’t felt in a long time. This morning she was up early, sifting through her boxes in the storage room, trying to decide what to bring to the store, when Belinda suddenly rushed in. Liza had never seen her so upset.
“Belinda, what’s the matter?”
“Oh, Liza, you must come with me.” She caught her hand, waving off her boxes. “Never mind those. Someone broke into the shop last night!”
Liza caught her breath. “What?”
“Sergeant Thompson was just here,” she explained as they hurried out the door and down the street. “Apparently a man happened by the store about an hour ago, and he heard so much noise he knew something was going on. He didn’t dare look, just ran to the Fort and got the police. They caught the bastards before they could steal anything.”
“Thank God,” Liza said. She’d been imagining their shelves emptied of everything, all their hard work for nothing, but as they got close her relief turned to dread. The beautiful plate-glass window had been smashed to pieces. Nothing was left but ugly jagged shards sticking out of the frame.
“Watch your step,” Thompson warned them at the entrance, taking Belinda’s arm.
Liza almost cried at the destruction, and she saw the same horror on Belinda’s face. It looked like a giant had picked up the store and turned it upside down, then stepped on every item they could find. The thieves might not have taken anything, but they’d ruined most of the stock. It would take days to go over the inventory lists, weeks to replace everything.
Liza felt a tear roll down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. She knew it was only a store, but it had become Liza’s place in a way, and that made the attack feel personal. As if she were cursed. Every time things seemed to improve, something bad happened.
Belinda wandered over, broken glass crunching under her boots. “I have to get back to the hotel,” she was muttering, lips tight. “Oh, I’m so angry I could—”
“Leave this to me, Belinda,” Liza said firmly. “If anything comes up, I will let you know right away.”
“You are a blessing.” Her eyes went to the men at the front. “Tell them when they’re done to come for a good breakfast, would you?”
“Of course.”
Belinda hurried off, and Liza picked her way cautiously across the room, searching for anything salvageable. One of her favourite wool coats lay bunched up on the floor, the right sleeve almost entirely torn off. She was relieved to see that it was only a ripped seam—she could fix that easily—but the slivers of glass embedded in the material would be hard to get rid of. After hanging up the coat, she discovered a box of candles just beyond, lying beneath a can of turpentine. Fortunately, the can hadn’t been opened, and at least six of the ten candles were still all right. She carried the items over to the counter—the only table had been broken—where half a dozen tobacco tins had been emptied, and the tiny shreds of dried leaves had been purposefully spilled in a pile. Why on earth would anyone have done something like this?
After she had gathered the unbroken and repairable items on the counter—including a shockingly intact Tiffany lamp—she grabbed a broom from the back and spent the next half hour sweeping. She was just
starting the inventory when Ben walked through the door and went directly to Sergeant Thompson.
“They’re feeling more than a little foolish now that the drink’s wearing off,” she heard him say.
“Constable Turner,” she said, approaching the Mounties.
“Miss Peterson,” he said, sounding equally official. “Are you all right?”
“Just a little shaken, I suppose,” she replied. “Who were the thieves?”
“A couple of idiots with more whisky in their heads than brains. They’ll be regretting last night for a very long time.”
“The woodpile was getting low,” Thompson said, jotting something in his book. “Good work getting new recruits.”
“But why did they make such a mess?” Liza asked.
“They said they were looking for your cash box,” Ben said. “They owe one of the local loan sharks a lot of money.”
“Then they are idiots. I don’t keep a cash box here. Not at night.”
“What about a safe?”
“The safe is with Miss Mulrooney. Nobody would think of breaking into the Fairview fortress, so we keep it all there. All I ever have is a float and the profits from the day.”
Thompson tucked his notebook inside his coat. “I think that’s all we can do for now, Miss Peterson,” he said. “I’ll give a copy of the report to Miss Mulrooney, and if you can put together some kind of list of what you find missing or broken—”
“That’s going to take a while,” she warned, feeling a sense of hopelessness returning.
“Whenever you can get it to me is fine. Then we can work on getting Miss Mulrooney some kind of restitution.”
“I’ll come back later, help fix things up,” Ben said. “I’ll bring some boards for the window right off. That okay with you?”
“That would be more than okay,” she replied, grateful for his offer. “I would love the help. And the company.”
She knew the assault was over, the criminals locked up and most likely getting a Blue Ticket home, and yet the thought of being alone in the store still made her nervous. But if Ben was at her side, she wouldn’t have any reason to be afraid.
Ben
THIRTY
Ben eyed the splintered board in his hand. He didn’t have a lot of supplies for building new shelves, and he’d already had to use some of the longer ones to block off the window. Maybe if he sanded this one down and made it a little shorter . . .
“Nope,” he muttered, tossing it aside and pulling out another.
Keitl set her head on her paws, giving him a moony look. He knew she’d be happier outside, chasing rabbits, but he had a feeling Liza might like to see her if she stopped by.
“So, you remember her?” he asked. “From when you were little?”
Keitl lifted her head, tapped the floor with her tail, and to Ben that was a “yes.”
“Huh.”
He held up the next board, then dug through looking for one that matched.
“Do you suppose she’s gone for her dinner?” he asked Keitl.
Keitl yawned.
He fastened the lumber together with a couple of nails, then wiped the sweat that had gathered on his forehead. After a few moments he looked back at Keitl. “I thought she’d be here. You think I’m on my own?”
She didn’t even bother to open her eyes.
When the unit was done, he stepped back. “Where does this go?”
“Over there.” Liza’s voice felt like a cool breeze on the back of his neck.
“Hey there,” he said, eyeing the tray of food in her hands. “I wondered if you were coming.”
“I went back for lunch.” She hesitated. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here—”
“I said I would be.”
“Oh, I knew you would,” she said cheerily. “You’re that kind of person. I just didn’t know when.”
Her smile brought back a memory from up at Happy Camp, when she’d given that same warm look to her friend, George. It was a beautiful smile. Lit up her whole face.
“That kind of person?” he asked.
“You do what you say you’re going to do. It’s an excellent quality.”
“I try.”
“Hungry?” she asked, setting the tray down on the table he’d fixed earlier.
“Always.” He dropped his tools, and when he saw her pull out two china plates he went to the back room to bring out chairs. “This is great,” he said.
“It’s the least I could do.” She reached up, tested a sturdy new shelf. “You’re very good at this.”
“Policeman, farmer, cowboy, carpenter . . . a man should be handy, I reckon.”
As Liza doled out hot chicken and mushrooms, Ben poured the lemonade she’d brought, and Keitl scurried between the two of them.
“You’re hungry too, aren’t you?” Liza asked, and Keitl dropped to the floor with her most pleading expression. “Don’t worry. I have something for you.”
Keitl went straight for the ham bone Liza offered, forgetting all about the picnic on the table above her.
“Smells delicious,” Ben said, hoping he didn’t sound impatient.
After Liza took her first bite, he dug in. The chicken melted in his mouth, and when he looked over she was watching him, amusement in her eyes.
“This is so good,” he said.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“You know, I could have done with a sausage or something.”
That made her laugh. “You think Belinda’s chef would send you a plain old sausage after today’s adventure? Not even if I asked for it,” she said, cutting a small piece of chicken.
Ben had already eaten everything on his plate, mopped up the mushroom sauce with a soft piece of bread Liza had put on the side, and now he found himself observing everything she did, fascinated by her delicate manners. He’d noticed them that first night when they’d had supper with Belinda at the Fairview. Until that point, he’d seen a beautiful, fiery woman in trousers battling her way to the Klondike, running a business on her own, fighting off loan sharks. He knew she was tough as nails, but when she stirred sugar into her lemonade her spoon never even touched the sides of her cup.
“What?” she asked, catching him.
“Sorry. You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone like you before.”
“How’s that?”
Before he could stop himself, he said, “Courageous and stubborn, but delicate as a rose.”
Her cheeks reddened.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“It’s all right.” She shook her head. “My parents used to say when I was little that all they had to do was tell me I couldn’t accomplish something and that would set me on the path to doing it.”
“I can see that.”
She raised her chin. “I’m not going to let this stop me either. Fortunately, most of my stock was still in storage, so we’ll be able to start over using that.”
“Your parents would be very proud.”
Her eyes went to her plate, and she concentrated on finishing her meal. When she was done, she reached for his plate, but before she could he took the empty dishes back to the tray. No need for her to do all that work. She had enough to do.
“Thank you.” She looked around the store with a sigh. “Poor Belinda.”
“It’ll be all right,” he said. “You had this place in fine shape before, and I know you’re gonna get it up and running again real soon.”
“Sure I will.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. I feel like whenever something goes wrong, it’s the people close to me who suffer the most. Sometimes I think I’d be better off on my own. I’d do less harm.” She paused. “Have you ever felt that way?”
A glimpse came to him of a wide-open sky, a wild, unsaddled horse galloping underneath him, a memory of freedom that he’d forgotten all about.
“I used to want that,” he admitted, “when I was a kid. But it wasn’t about not hurting anyone else. It was more about not getting
hurt.”
“What do you mean?”
But Ben didn’t want to get into that. “It’s nothing. All in the past.”
Something had changed in the way she was looking at him. Her eyes searched his face, then slid to his scar. He turned his head to the side so she couldn’t see it.
“When you were a kid, were you always helping people, like you are now?”
“No,” he said softly, the urge to flee bubbling up in his chest.
“Why not?”
“That’s something I don’t like to think about.”
She folded her arms. He recognized the posture.
“You’re not going to let me off easy, are you?” he asked.
“I’m just curious,” she said lightly, but he could tell she was asking in earnest, too. “How did you get to be all the way out here? Where are you from?”
He picked at one of his nails. “A tiny farm outside of Fort Macleod. Pretty much in the middle of nowhere.”
“I travelled across the Prairies when I was a little girl. The landscape is beautiful,” she offered. “What did your family farm?”
“Not much of anything. We were supposed to be farming wheat, but my father was more interested in whisky than wheat.” He tried hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice. If she asked what he meant by that, he didn’t want to have to say.
She leaned forward. “And your mother?”
“My mother was . . . never very healthy.”
“They’re gone, aren’t they?” she asked quietly.
Ben felt a spark of fire in his gut. How had this conversation arrived at this point? He’d kept his past buried and rotting away where no one could see it, knowing it was better that way for everyone. But there was something about Liza that made him open up. She spoke to him as if his feelings mattered, which was a strange notion that he figured he could get used to. But he couldn’t let her in any further. There was too much ugliness hidden inside, and telling her about it could only do damage. Besides, what would she think of him if she knew the truth?
“I’m sorry,” Liza said, filling the silence. “I shouldn’t pry. It’s just that you know so much about me—”
At the Mountain's Edge Page 21
