I rested my elbows on the bar and buried my face in my hands. My heart pounded. With my mind nothing more than a fuzzy mess of questions and thoughts, my eyes welled with tears over the unbelievable stupidity of my actions.
“I apologize for not believing you,” I whispered.
He shrugged his shoulders. “Nah, I probably wouldn’t have believed me either. I’m just glad I happened upon yeh here before yeh told him who yeh are.”
“I suppose I was lucky you followed me this time.” I glanced at him. “Does Anne know?”
“I sent her a telegram.” He drummed his fingers against the bar. “No need to worry, Mr. Sullivan isn’t gonna get on that boat without me knowing about it.”
“She’s safe?”
He nodded. “Do yeh need another drink?”
I glanced at him and he flashed me smile. Groaning under my breath, I shook my head. Flynn laughed and sat on the bar stool Ethan had vacated.
“Just me, then? If yeh say so.”
Seconds after motioning the barmaid, she grabbed his empty mug. Her smile vanished as she clutched the glass handle.
“Flynn, I’ve told you once, and I’m not going to tell you again. Get Snow out of my saloon,” she yelled, pointing toward the door. “She causes trouble every time she’s in here.”
I turned my head, glancing at the floor. I gasped, covering my mouth to stifle a scream as my eyes met an extremely large and furry dog. Black, gray, and white, her eyes grew dark as she stared back into mine.
“Don’t look her in the eye,” Flynn whispered into my ear with a hint of amusement.
With a swift flick of his wrist, the dog trotted from the building. Fear silenced every person as she passed.
“What breed of dog is she?” I asked.
“Wolf,” he shrugged and turned his attention back toward me as the barmaid poured him another drink. His black curls framed his handsome face and his dark eyes stared at me with an intense focus.
“Is he giving you a hard time?” the barmaid asked me without taking her eyes off Flynn.
“Quite.”
“Flynn’s harmless compared to some of the other men in this town, and he’s not bad to look at, either.” She set the glass down and stuck her hand out. “My name is Natalie Holbert, by the way. Welcome to my saloon.”
“Cora Colton.” I glanced at Flynn, eyes wide in fear of my slip. He ever-so-slightly shook his head. Natalie was safe.
“Are you staying at the hotel next door?”
“Yes, if you can call that a hotel.”
“You can always rent a tent. I think they are going for about ten dollars now.” A flicker of hope sparkled in my thoughts. “All you have to do is pitch it yourself.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
Natalie laughed and slid a bottle of whiskey over to me. “Best you keep that if you are going to sleep in the hotel tonight.”
My hope was dashed.
“Trying to get her drunk, Nat?” Flynn mocked.
“Not her.” Her seductive smile made my own cheeks flush.
Flynn cleared his throat and his own smile faded a little as he sat straighter on the stool, then slid his mug across the wood. “On second thought, I’m good for the night.”
The sparkle in her eyes vanished. She grasped the mug and threw it into a basin, not caring that it missed and shattered into pieces when it hit the ground. She grimaced as she walked off—a familiar look that reminded me of Christopher after I handed him my engagement ring.
“You hurt her feelings,” I whispered to him.
“She’ll find her comfort tonight in the arms of her husband.”
Resting one elbow on the bar, I clasped my forehead in the palm of my hand and chuckled. So naive, so blind, the world around me had grown more in the last few hours than in all the twenty-four years I’d lived. Nothing more than the foolish child I so animatedly denied I was to Christopher and Mother.
I grabbed the bottle, poured myself a shot, and gulped it. Pouring another, I glanced at Flynn.
“Will Ethan discover who I am?
“Yes.” He leaned forward, his face inches from mine. “The question, then, is how soon before he learns?”
Chapter 10
I opened my eyes to an awful pounding in my head. The bright light of the sun shining through the white canvas above, blinded me, making my head pound even harder. My parched mouth begged for water—dry as hot sand on a mid-summer day, burning as it pours through your fingers.
Through my squinted eyes, my blurred vision cleared as I focused on the canvas. I moved my hand, it grazed along the dirt floor, and I jerked up suddenly. My head pounded even harder as I cradled it in my hands.
What happened last night? And, where on earth am I?
“Mornin’,” a man’s voice whispered next to me.
I screamed and jumped from the mattress I laid upon, jerking the blankets with me to cover myself even though I was fully dressed, right down to my boots.
“What the devil are yeh screaming for?” Flynn barked, stumbling to his feet.
“What are you doing here?” I shouted, squinting at the timbre of my own voice.
“I live here.”
I glanced around. “Well then, why am I in your house . . . or tent . . . or whatever this is?”
“Are yeh out of your ever-lovin’ mind? Yeh asked me if yeh could stay at my place instead of the hotel.”
With Flynn’s words came a few sparked memories of whiskey, a lot of whiskey, and then nothing. I had no memory of anything else, as though time ceased after strolling into the bar. I rubbed my temples and closed my eyes, hoping the pressure from my fingertips would somehow make light of the darkness in my head.
“Oh.” I glance around the tent, then unwrapped the blanket from my body, and threw it on his mattress. “Where is my bag? We got my bag, didn’t we?”
In my panic, I spun around in circles, my eyes dancing everywhere.
“Calm down, it’s over in the corner.” He stretched as he yawned. “I suppose it’s about time to get up. The boat leaves for Tacoma when the tide comes in. We best get yeh down to the dock.”
“I’m not returning to Tacoma.”
“Yeah, yeh are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Miss Colton, we’ve been over this time and time again. Yeh can’t stake that claim. If yeh do, Mr. Sullivan will—”
“I can’t . . . I can’t return to Tacoma. I just can’t.”
“Yeh think John would want yeh risking yeh life up here in the Klondike?”
“No, but he gave it to me for a reason, it was his dream, and I’m not going to allow that dream to die with him.”
“That dream is gonna kill yeh, too.”
“He had to have known there was danger, and yet, he gave the deed to me anyway.”
“He didn’t know. He never listened.” Flynn shook his head and waved toward me with one hand as he turned away from me. “Must run in the bloody family.”
Tears filled my eyes, threatening to stream down my cheeks. I bit my lip, inhaling deep breaths to compose myself.
“Mr. O’Neill, I’ve been weak my whole life. I’ve played the role of the naive girl, lost in a world full of people who knew more or how to do it better. Forced into submission whenever I desired something others believed I shouldn’t have. I won’t live like that anymore. I will stake my claim . . . and I would like for you to guide me there.”
With his back still facing me, he shook his head. “I won’t take yeh up the Klondike.”
“I would pay you, of course. I’m not asking for a favor.”
He spun on his heel and crossed his arms. “I won’t take yeh up the Klondike.” He paused in between each word to exaggerate his point.
“But, you’re a guide. Isn’t that how you make a living up here?”
He snorted. “I’ve been living here nearly four years now, trapping and mining. I can get by on my own.”
“I didn’t . . . I didn’t mean—”
“I won’t take yeh up the Klondike, Miss Colton.” His abrasive tone matched the fury in his eyes. “What yeh need to do is get on the boat and return to Tacoma. I’m sure Anne would love it.”
“I’m not getting on that boat.”
With his finger raised in the air and pointed at my face, he opened his mouth, then closed it for a second as if to rethink his words.
I wouldn’t win this argument, and because of that, I only had one other choice.
To find someone else.
“Good bye, Mr. O’Neill.”
I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and marched out of the tent. Footsteps thumped the ground behind me, but I ignored them and scurried faster with every step.
“Miss Colton, wait.” Flynn called after me. His fingers gripped around my arm, then spun me around. With my face mere inches from his, a curl of my hair fell against my cheek, the end barely whispered against my eyelashes. He brushed it with his other hand—a soft touch that nudged my heart.
We stood in silence. I inhaled a sharp breath, and then, our eyes locked. The intriguing man from a tiny bar in Tacoma, a long time ago, returned, and my knees weakened under my weight.
Men and women passed, gawking at us standing in the middle of the street, staring at each other. Both anger and lust flashed like sparks between us, but neither he nor I relented to either power. Natalie stood outside the saloon holding her broom and watching us just as everyone else—her morning chores interrupted by our very public quarrel.
“Let go of me,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Not until you promise to get on the boat.”
I jerked my arm from his grip. “Good bye, Mr. O’Neill.”
Flynn’s eyes narrowed as I backed away from him. “Fine. Do as yeh wish, yeh stubborn minx.”
I glanced around at the crowd before meeting Natalie’s glare. She threw down the broom and stomped off through the open door of her saloon.
Ignoring the barmaid’s bitter expression, I tightened the wrap around my shoulders and trudged down the muddy street toward the supply tents I’d passed when I arrived yesterday.
The sun blinded me as I staggered through town. Hungry and thirsty, the slightest movement sent the world spinning, but I continued on. The sooner I left Skagway, the better. If I could purchase and pack all my supplies today, perhaps I could leave tomorrow morning and never look back.
I crossed the street behind a wagon pulled by an unruly horse. It reared, threw its head, and kicked at the wagon behind him. The man cussed at the horse and jerked the lead line as I stumbled into a tent with a sign hanging over the top that read, SUPPLIES.
Inside, a few other patrons were shopping, marking off items listed on a piece of parchment. They glanced at me, but continued about their business. A petite man with a bald head and dirty skin left their side and approached me.
“Good afternoon, Miss,” he nodded, then glanced at my stained dress and ruined boots. Most of the sand had dried and fallen off, but they still looked utterly horrible. “What can I help you with today?”
“Good afternoon. I wish to leave for Dawson City as soon as possible, tomorrow morning would be perfect. What supplies do I need?”
His brow raised in surprise, then a muscle twitched in his cheek. Nervous energy fluttered in my chest. What had I said that was so shocking? Was it simply the boldness of my tone?
“Um, do you have your pack horses or wagon outside?” he asked.
“No, but acquiring those is easy, I’m sure I can have them within a few hours.”
“All right. Well, certainly, we can get you the supplies, but I don’t know about leaving tomorrow morning, buying everything you need and packing can take at least a day, maybe two.”
“Two days to pack? Exactly what supplies do you think I will need? I’m just traveling to Dawson City.”
He hesitated for a second and bit his lip. His expression caused my stomach to flip and I inhaled a deep breath, bracing myself for the disagreement in his eyes.
“Do you know how far away Dawson City is?” he asked.
My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.
Without saying another word, the man handed me a small booklet and motioned for me to open it.
Reluctantly, I flipped through the pages. A few were stained, torn, and worn with use, but the cover and binding held their shapes. Finally, I found the heading for the list of supplies required for the trail.
The following is given as a modest estimate of the supplies required for one man for one year.
One year?
A lump formed in my throat. Surely, it wouldn’t take a year to travel up to Dawson City. This supply list had to mean for the time traveled to and from with a good number of months panning for gold.
“I’m traveling to Dawson City to live and I won’t be returning. Once I’m there, I will replenish my supplies, so I only require enough to make the trip and nothing more.”
The man’s shoulders deflated a little as he clasped both hands behind his back. He gave me an awkward smile, glancing from the ground, to the booklet, to me, and then repeated the pattern. If my heart had plummeted to my stomach before, it now lay in a heap on the floor.
“That is just for your travels there.” His voice was just above a whisper. “Do you even know how many miles you have to travel?”
The tent began to cave in on me, growing closer with each passing second, threatening to take my very last breath.
“No.” I straightened my shoulders, determined not to show my waning confidence.
“Five hundred and sixty miles of rough terrain, nothing but rocky mountains, rivers, and swamps,” he chuckled under his breath. “Did you expect a carved road?”
“Are yeh trying to scare the poor woman, Hal?” asked a familiar voice behind me.
I spun on my heel, meeting Flynn’s smiling gaze.
I fought my own smile, grimacing at him as I crossed my arms. “And, what are you doing here?”
He laughed, and ran both hands through his black hair. “Lord, I know I’m going regret this.” He stepped toward me, clearing his throat. “I can’t allow yeh to go up that trail—”
“You are not my commander—”
“With some other guide.” His voice boomed above mine, although not in anger, but in amusement. “If yeh are going be so bloody stubborn, then I’m the one who’s going get yeh to that claim.”
I sauntered a few steps toward him until my face was inches from his. “How much is your fee?”
His Irish grin flashed wide and strong. “Oh, I doubt yeh could afford the likes of me, Miss Colton, however, I’ll cut yeh a deal.”
“And, you’ll take me to Dawson City? Not the boat, not Tacoma.”
He looked at me for a second, rolling a toothpick in between his teeth from one side of his mouth to the other. His hesitation spurred my anxiety.
“And, I’ll take yeh to Dawson City.” He laughed, turning his attention to Hal. “How much of the supplies has the lass purchased already?”
“None, yet.” Hal shook his head.
“Well, Hal, let’s get her some supplies, then.” He motioned for the storeowner to follow him. The two men strode around the room as Flynn pointed at different sacks of commodities.
I stood near the counter watching them, marking with a pencil the items Flynn ordered.
Four hundred pounds of flour, fifty pounds of rice, twenty-five pounds of rolled oats, fifty pounds of sugar, ten pounds of baking powder, one hundred pounds of beans, fifteen pounds of salt
, twenty pounds of coffee, and ten pounds of tea were just the start of the intimidating list.
Pounds and pounds of dried fruit and evaporated soup vegetables like potatoes and onions added to the order. The list continued with the likes of dried beef, packages of yeast cakes, and one hundred and fifty pounds of breakfast bacon.
When I thought we were finished, then came the spices like cinnamon, allspice, pepper, and ginger, as well as mustard, and finally, cases of condensed milk and evaporated vinegar.
“Is that for both of us?” I asked.
“No, that’s all yours.”
“It just seems like a lot for just one person.”
He laughed and continued barking his order for matches, laundry, and bathing soap. To my shock, on top of the already stacked pile, he then added candles, safety pins, needles, thread, canvas tents, a sleeping bag, and several wool blankets.
Following the aforementioned, he added plates, silverware, cooking pots and frying pans, and a plethora of knives I didn’t want to think about, much less use. Topping the pile was a black, steel or cast iron, pot that he called a Yukon Stove. It was so heavy the clerk struggled as he carried it to the corner.
“How long after we arrive in Dawson will the food supplies last me?”
“Don’t know. Depends on how much yeh eat on the trail.” He gently brushed his shoulder into mine and winked.
“Are there supplies stores in Dawson?”
“Yes, Lass.”
“That will be one hundred ninety-one dollars and eighty cents,” Hal said.
Flynn motioned for me to pay Hal for the supplies. “We need to head to Mulligan’s shop for clothes and Jensen’s shop for the tools we’ll need.”
In the Land of Gold Page 9
