"Good."
"I’d like to go now." She swung her legs to the floor.
"But you can’t leave."
September froze.
"I told you. I want you, September. I want to enjoy your beauty."
"Please, Deke. I’ve never ... I can’t."
"Is there a friend, a man, back in San Francisco?"
"No." Her mind was racing. She peered over his shoulder. Could she outrun him to the door?
As if reading her mind, he threw back his head and laughed. "I locked it when I came in."
Would she fit through the porthole? It didn’t matter. She couldn’t swim.
On the same casual note, he asked, "Then there’s no one?"
"There’s my father."
"Of course. Your father. He’s gone to Alaska to search for gold?"
She nodded, glancing around the small cabin for something with which to defend herself.
"And do you love him very much?" His hand stroked her shoulder, then moved along her throat.
"Yes. Very much."
His hand paused, tracing the gold chain around her neck. "What’s this?" He caught up the locket.
"It was my mother’s. Inside are pictures of my father and mother."
He examined it closely. "Very old gold. Valuable. Is this your only item of any value?"
She nodded, feeling soiled by the touch of his hands on her mother’s locket. She didn’t mention the pouch of money under the pillow. Deke Kenyon, she now knew, couldn’t be trusted.
He drew her closer. His hands fumbled with the narrow bands of lace at her shoulders, drawing them down over her arms, until his fingertips could easily trace the swell of her breast.
She recoiled at his touch. "No, Deke. I don’t want this."
He pressed her into the mattress, then brought his body down on hers. As she opened her mouth to cry out, his mouth covered hers. At last, when she thought she would suffocate, he raised his head.
"Deke. I’ll scream. I’ll bring the captain and everyone on the boat to this cabin with my screams."
He could see that this was about to get out of hand. The damned child had the determined look of a mule. His mind raced.
"Don’t scream, September. I would never force you. You can trust me." He leaned back, watching her face.
Immediately she pulled the blanket up to cover her nakedness.
"You said you love your father very much. Do you love him enough to wish to make him a rich man?"
He saw her attention snap back to him.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because I’m a very rich man, September. And my wife will be very rich. And my wife’s father, if I decide."
"Wife." A pulse began throbbing in her temple. She was going to be sick.
"We’ll be in Skagway in a few hours. We can be married. Then I’ll help you find your father." He watched the play of emotions on her expressive face. He began to talk faster. "A young woman like you, alone in Alaska, doesn’t stand a chance of finding anyone. Do you have any idea how vast that ice field is?"
She shook her head.
"I’ve been through this part of the country a dozen times. I know it like you know the streets of San Francisco. I can find your father." He smiled warmly. "And when we find him, how would you like him to be mine foreman for Kenyon Mines?"
She blinked. "Why would you do all this for my father?"
He smiled. "For my father-in-law," he corrected.
"But—"
He touched a finger to her lips to silence her. He could see her softening. Now for the clincher.
"He’s a dreamer, this father of yours, isn’t he?"
She nodded, a smile fighting her eyes.
"Always chasing after that elusive fortune." He assumed a faraway look. "I understand a man like him. I’m a dreamer myself. But in my case, I know how to make dreams come true. I told you, September. I always win." He caught her hand, conveying his enthusiasm. "We’ll be married first thing tomorrow. Then we’ll get on the trail of your father. Won’t he be proud when he discovers his little girl has married the richest man in Alaska?"
Why did his touch not move her? Why did she feel nothing when his eyes met hers? September fought back the doubts that clouded her mind. How had her mother known she loved Patrick Malloy? If only September had asked. But the mysteries of sex were never discussed between mother and daughter. Love was something Inga never mentioned, only lived. Inga had carried her babies proudly, as only a woman who truly loves her man can. Love. Maybe love was something that happened more and more as two people lived together and shared their lives.
It would be wonderful for Patrick finally to see one of his dreams come true. Oh, he’d be so proud. And all the neighbors in their San Francisco tenement would live to regret all the unkind words they had spoken about him all those years.
She would do it. For her father’s sake. For her own sake. Maybe she did need a man’s protection. Hadn’t tonight proved that much?
Deke watched, saying nothing. His years of gambling had taught him when to bluff and when to stand.
Her words felt choked in her throat. With her voice barely a whisper, she murmured, "All right, Deke. I’ll marry you."
He wrapped her in his arms and held her close to his heart. "You’ve made me the happiest man in the world."
"And tomorrow, after the wedding, I’ll ..."—she swallowed—"show you how much I love you."
He pressed his lips to her temple. "You don’t understand, little beauty. I can’t wait until tomorrow. I need your love now. Now."
He pressed her against the pillow. As she moaned in protest, his mouth covered hers, effectively silencing her. His hands roamed her body, until she heard a ripping sound. He tore the chemise from her. His hand moved along the flare of her hip, then slowly moved upward, measuring her tiny waist, sliding over her ribs, before cupping her breast. He felt her gasp and deepened the kiss until the heat of his body warmed her.
Deke was an expert in the art of love. But it had been a long time since he had known a woman so innocent, so determined to fight for her virtue. His sudden arousal shocked her. She felt nothing. Nothing except revulsion at his touch. But he had gone beyond a point of caring now.
In desperation, September stretched a hand above her to the pillow. Her fingers felt the cold edge of the blade. Grabbing the knife, she pressed the razor-sharp blade, intending to slash Deke’s throat. At that moment, he jerked away. She sliced his cheek. Pained, startled, he pulled back. His eyes widened in disbelief. Kneeling up in the bunk, September held the tip of the knife to the vein which bulged along the side of his throat.
"I’m going to count to five, Deke, then I’m going to start screaming."
"Give me time to at least get dressed." Wiping at the blood streaming down his face, he rolled from the bunk and began gathering up his things.
"You can dress on deck. Get moving."
As he scurried across the floor, she added, "When we dock in Skagway tomorrow, I intend to report you to your friend, the captain."
Deke turned at the door. His lips curled into a sneer. "You and I aren’t finished yet, September Malloy."
"We’re all through. Get out, Deke."
As he slammed the cabin door, his fury lashed her. "You’ll pay for this. Nobody cuts me."
In the silence that followed, the realization of what had just happened washed over her in waves. Trembling violently, she clutched the fish knife in her hand and rocked on her knees.
"Oh, Mama. I was so scared. Please, Mama, help me find Pa soon. Please. I feel so alone."
For hours, she sat huddled in the blankets, weeping softly. Completely exhausted, she slept, her fingers clutching the knife in a death grip.
* * *
Shouts, laughter, and the sound of hundreds of feet scuffling across the deck woke September from her stupor. Skagway. They had made the crossing.
Glancing around the cabin, she sat up. Sunlight streamed through the porthole, illuminating the torn chemis
e lying in the middle of the floor. Her dark woolen dress lay at the foot of the bed. Her blanket, she noted idly, was gone.
As she stood up, September touched her neck, then gasped. The gold chain and locket were missing. The clasp was old, but sturdy. It couldn’t have fallen off. It would have had to be carefully removed.
Listlessly pulling on her dress, she felt under the pillow for the money pouch. It was gone. She stepped into her boots, then looked around for her mother’s coat. It was missing. Gone too was the man who had taken everything.
In that instant she knew, with cold certainty, that Deke was the thief who had robbed her. He was a scheming con artist. And he had taken everything. Everything September had ever cherished. Except her virtue and her determination.
Chapter Five
September’s hand trembled on the knob. She took in a deep breath and forced herself to open the cabin door. A burst of cold air caused her to shiver.
Stopping a member of the crew, she asked, "Where can I find the captain?"
He boldly eyed her before pointing. "In there, Miss."
In the captain’s quarters, she paused in the doorway and watched as a tall man with thick whiskers and a pasty complexion checked over a list and handed it to a member of his crew. Seeing her, he waved the crewman off and, with a look of disinterest, invited her inside.
"Captain, my name is September Malloy. I wish to report a theft."
His expression never changed. "What was stolen?"
"Two hundred dollars, a gold chain and locket, my mother’s coat, and a blanket."
"Why is your mother not here with you to file this complaint?"
September blinked. "My mother is dead."
"Then she’ll have no more use for her coat."
September felt a sense of outrage at his callousness. "It was the only warm coat I owned."
"I’m sorry, Miss Malloy. Can you describe the locket?"
"It was in the shape of a heart, with my parents’ initials, I and P, intertwined. Inside were their pictures."
"Could you tell me its value?"
"To me it was priceless."
"Yes." He sucked air through the gap in his front teeth. "Can you identify the thief?"
"His name is Deke Kenyon. He claims to be a friend of yours."
The captain studied her in silence. "Where do you claim this happened?"
"Here. Aboard your ship."
He picked up a sheet of paper and scanned it for several minutes. "There is no Deke Kenyon on the passenger list."
Her heart fell. "He claimed he played poker with you each night."
The captain raised himself to his full height and scowled down at her. "I don’t gamble, Miss. I could lose my job for that. It seems you know a great deal about this man. Are you another one of those deflowered maidens out for revenge?"
September’s cheeks flamed. "That’s crude. I was robbed, Captain, aboard your ship."
"Down in the hold?"
September felt the trap close around her. "No. In his cabin."
The captain’s eyes glittered angrily. "I see. In his cabin." His voice rose. "I was right the first time. A woman of questionable virtue." He gave her an evil smile. "You’d better hurry. The last barge is leaving."
Wearily, she forced herself to walk to the rail. Studying the faces of the few stragglers on the barge, she strained for a glimpse of Deke. There were only the blank stares of strangers. Most of the passengers had already made their way to Skagway’s shores.
Staring around in dismay, she pointed toward shore. Fear coursed through her. "Why are those people swimming?"
Without glancing up, a member of the crew continued coiling a rope as he explained, "They’re not swimming. Passengers have to float their belongings across the shallows and walk over the mud flats, until they get to shore. Until somebody in Skagway gets around to building a wharf, it’s the only way."
She boarded the barge for the short trip to the mud flats. All passengers’ eyes were riveted on their future. Skagway. The gateway to the gold fields.
Drawing closer, she scanned the tents and crude cabins along the shore. Was this all there was to the town? Makeshift dwellings that couldn’t possibly withstand the winter? How would she survive this harsh land with nothing but her wits? With nothing to barter for food and lodging and gear? Worse, how could she find her father now, with no picture left of him to show people? Her fists clenched at her sides.
It didn’t matter. She would describe him. People would remember him. She would find him. They would be reunited. That was all that mattered. That was what she would cling to.
As she scrambled up the banks of the river, September’s gaze scanned the bleak town of Skagway. Ringed by mountains, the town was flat, with makeshift structures everywhere. All of the timber had been cut for construction. Besides the few wooden dwellings, there were tents and even wagons, with bits of canvas hung for privacy. There were no roads, only tracks carved into the dirt by horses’ hooves and wagon wheels. With each step, dirt rose up to choke the lungs and sting the eyes. The wind keened down the hills and clawed through the tents, leaving everything in its wake stiff with cold. This wasn’t a town; it was a nightmare.
September turned at the sound of a wagon approaching.
"September."
She looked up to see Nell and Will seated beside a thin young man in his early twenties. He had fine blond hair, which grew below his collar, and a droopy mustache.
"Jack, this is the friend I told you about. September, this is my Jack."
September heard the note of pride in Nell’s voice. Avoiding Nell’s eyes, she forced herself to smile weakly up at the young man.
"You have a fine wife and son."
He smiled, and she recognized the curve of his lips, so like his little boy’s. "I’m glad Nell’s made a friend. Our cabin’s up beyond the White Pass Trail. If you get up that way, you’re always welcome."
"Thank you."
He flicked the reins. As the wagon began rolling, Nell turned in the seat and called, "For heaven’s sake, September, put on your coat before you freeze to death."
September turned away, ashamed. But in that instant, Nell glimpsed the pain in her eyes. Turning to her husband, she said in hushed tones, "I think my friend got stung, Jack."
He glanced over his son’s head. "Her coat?"
She nodded.
"That’s why I warned you and Will to stay below deck with our things as much as possible. This town’s loaded with thieves. There’re a lot of good people. But it’s the bad ones mostly that seem to prosper."
She touched her husband’s sleeve. "Can we go back for a minute? I’d like to give her my shawl."
"We’ve got a lot of miles to cover, Nell."
Her soft voice trembled. "I owe her, Jack. She went out of her way to help me when nobody else even cared."
He shrugged. "You win."
Expertly turning the team, they rolled alongside the lone figure.
"September, I’d like you to have this," Nell called, dropping her shawl into her friend’s arms.
September looked up in Surprise. "Oh, Nell."
Tears threatened, and September buried her face in the warm shawl and swallowed the lump in her throat.
The wagon stopped. Seeing her distress, Nell jumped down and wrapped her arms around the quaking figure.
"Was it that rich man?" Nell asked.
September nodded, then burst into tears. Between sobs, she hissed, "Deke Kenyon. He stole my money, and my mother’s gold locket. He took my coat and blanket." Her voice quivered. "And he tried to . . ." The words caught in her throat.
In the terrible silence that followed, Nell felt her heart constrict.
"He forced you?" At Nell’s gasp, her husband climbed down to stand beside his wife.
Wearily September shook her head. "He tried to trick me. He asked me to marry him. Then he said he couldn’t wait. I—I had to cut him with my knife to stop him." She squeezed Nell’s hand tightly and stared
at the ground. "I’m so ashamed. You warned me not to trust him. How could I have been so foolish?"
Nell glanced uneasily at her husband. "It happens, September. Even to the best of us."
Wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, September avoided their eyes. "I shouldn’t have bothered you with my troubles. Thank you for this." She stepped back and draped the shawl over her trembling shoulders. "Good luck to you both."
Jack helped his young wife into the wagon, then flicked the reins. As the wagon began to roll, Nell sighed.
"What will she do now, Jack?"
"Same’s everybody else. Work. Struggle. Survive. Or give up."
Nell turned to watch the small figure walking along the dirt trail. "September Malloy will never give up. She’ll survive. I know it."
* * *
Jase Conroy clambered up the banks of the river. Autumn had come to Skagway. It was a brief burst of color on the distant hills. It added nothing to the drab town. Lifting his head like a wild animal, he tested the familiar scents. There was the bite of snow in the air. He had missed summer. Like autumn, it was a short season, sandwiched between a cold spring and a colder winter.
With a practiced eye, he surveyed the town. More tents had sprouted since he left. More drifters in search of instant riches.
He hoped his cabin, nestled in the crook of the far hill, had fared as well as he. His time spent in San Francisco had helped heal his spirit as well as his body. It had done him good to be with doctors and nurses, to talk with people who were dedicated to helping others. They reminded him of the kind of people who had originally settled this land. People like his father, a gentle man of the land who earned a good living trapping, and his mother, an Englishwoman who had come here to teach and stayed on out of love for Sebastian Conroy.
Jase smiled as he thought about them. He’d had the best of all possible worlds with his parents. From his father he learned to love this wilderness and to feel comfortable in his surroundings. From his mother he’d discovered books. Though he rarely traveled far from Alaska, he had seen the whole world through the writers’ words.
"Jason."
Jase looked up and waved as Jack Brooks slowed his wagon.
September's Dream Page 4
