Miles took longer, breaks took longer, and the more time spent resting mirrored the hollow feeling growing in my chest and draining my energy.
Something was wrong with me, but I didn’t know what.
In the distance, tents littered the base of the tallest mountain I had ever seen.
A sea of jagged boulders outlined with patches of snow and late autumn grasses rose high in the air. Intimidating, but majestic, and certainly, not a picture my imagination could have conjured.
Rumors of the summit hadn’t done it justice. The vast size knocked the little breath I salvaged from my lungs.
“We should rest in Scales for a day or two and let your strength return.” Flynn whispered. “I wanted to spend a few days in the Tlingit tribe village, but they are past the top of the summit down along the river. Yeh need to rest before climbing the stairs.”
“The stairs?”
He pointed to the vertical black line that cut the mountain in half. Upon closer inspection, it actually wasn’t a black line, but it was the bodies of other stampeeders climbing up the mountain in one long line.
“Most of the rocks form a natural set of stairs, but some were built to ease the trek. It takes several trips up and down to get all the supplies delivered, and yeh can only take one, maybe two, trips in a day. It’s a few thousand feet up, and difficult, especially when one is sick.”
“I’m not sick,” I defended. “I’m just tired.”
He cocked a brow and frowned, obviously disagreeing.
“I am not sick,” I protested again through gritted teeth.
He shrugged, then motioned me to follow him toward the town.
Climbing over some of the smaller stones, a few wobbled under my weight, throwing my balance off. I slipped, falling to my knees so many times that Flynn let me pass him, then stayed close behind me.
“I’m sorry for my slow pace.”
He shook his head and rested his hand on my back, helping me while I struggled over another difficult boulder.
Our intertwined fingers, after the river bath, sparked a change in the emotional reserve between us. Lessening our distance and bringing a level of closeness that I desired, and yet, that scared me.
His kindness and compassion grew. He stood closer, watched more intently, smiled more seductively, and every time he looked at me, his eyes held affection.
But, I wasn’t supposed to love, or to be loved. Not now and not ever again, and yet, such feelings overwhelmed me with each moment spent with him.
“Cora, I think something—”
“I’m not sick,” I shouted, turning to face him. In my haste, my foot slipped and I tumbled to the ground. Pain shot through my ribcage and I cried out, rolling onto my side in agony. I struggled to breathe, only capable of short, tiny breaths.
Flynn kneeled beside me, his hand slid under my neck and he lifted my head. “Where does it hurt?”
“I . . . can’t . . . breathe.”
Without saying a word, Flynn scooped me into his arms and carried me toward the town—his act of valor appreciated.
“Ouch.” Cough. “It hurts.” Cough. Paralyzing pain chased every other word, soon silencing me. Helpless, I settled in his arms with my teeth gritted against the pain.
He quickened his pace, tightening his arms around my legs and shoulders. His arm rubbed against my side with every step. Each movement sent screams to the tip of my tongue, but I bit my bottom lip.
Fighting back tears, I surrendered to him, at least a little. Although my eyes were closed, my muscles were clenched with every ounce of strength I had left.
His warm embrace and perfect cradling arms felt so warm. My body fit into his, and the musk of his skin drove a passionate beat in my heart.
With his body so close to mine, he flirted with what little resistance I had left, crashing through the wall I had built a long time ago in Tacoma.
“I don’t want to do this,” he mumbled to himself. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Do…” Cough. “…what?”
“Is there a doctor in camp?” he asked someone, ignoring my question.
“Just up that street,” a man’s voice answered.
Flynn continued, trotting down muddy streets and in between a few newly constructed buildings, all the while mumbling under his breath. “I don’t want to do this.”
A few turns later, he carried me into a canvas tent and laid me down on one of the few wooden cots lining the room.
A rough looking gentleman knelt beside an ailing man who rested on a cot across the room.
“She fell on the rocks,” Flynn said to the attendant. “I don’t know if anything is broken or—”
“Well let’s just have a look, shall we.” The man walked to my side. “Good morning, young lady. My name is Jack, Doctor Jack Foster.”
“I’m all right.” I attempted to sit up, but pain coursed through my ribcage, and I cringed.
“Yes, I can see by the look on your face that you are.” Doctor Foster bent over me, then pressed his fingers into my ribcage. I screamed.
Flynn lunged forward, but the doctor deflected him with his arm, stopping him. “I have to check her.”
“Can’t yeh do it without making her scream?” Flynn shouted. His hands shook as he ran his fingers through his hair.
The doctor continued pressing in different spots around my ribs and hips, asking with each time if any particular spot hurt worse than before, or even hurt at all.
Unable to speak from the piercing pain, I bit my lip, only nodding or shaking my head to answer his questions. Sweat beaded on my forehead and dripped onto the cot. My hands trembled, and with every passing minute, exhaustion threatened my senses.
I closed my eyes for a second and Doctor Foster’s fingers wrapped around my cheeks, turning my face from side to side, and pressed on the skin below my eyes.
“Do you have pain anywhere else?” he asked.
I opened my eyes and shook my head. “I’m fine. I’m just tired.” I lied.
He stood and grabbed a brown bottle from a collection on a table in the corner.
“How long have you and your wife been on the trail?” he asked Flynn.
“I’m not—”
“A couple of months, give or take,” Flynn interrupted me. He looked at me and shook his head—his expression silenced my argument. “It hasn’t been easy for her, though.”
“No, I expect not. Your wife is showing signs of scurvy.”
“I should have eaten the chicken livers.” I tried to laugh, but the pain stopped me.
Both men glanced in my direction, then resumed their conversation.
“She has injuries to her ribcage, though I don’t know how extensive. They could be broken, or just bruised, but since she seems able to breathe well enough, my guess is they’re just badly bruised.”
“What can we do for her?”
“I’ll give her a few spoonfuls of medicine and she will get the rest she needs. At the edge of town, you will find the supply tent to replenish your supplies. I’ll send along a few more bottles of medicine to help with the scurvy.” Doctor Foster grabbed the rusty spoon sitting next to the bottles. “She should be fine to leave in a few days.”
“What is that?” Flynn asked, stepping in between the doctor and me, holding up his hands.
“Laudanum to relieve her pain and help her sleep.”
“She doesn’t need it.”
“Yes, she does. She needs to get some rest and she won’t be able to rest with her pain.”
“She doesn’t need it.” Flynn’s tone hardened, mirroring his now stiff stance and clenched fists. “Yeh will not give her that vile poison.”
“Listen here, Mister, I don’t know who you think you are, but you brought her in
here and I’m a doctor. Your wife is sick and she needs this medicine.”
Doctor Foster tried to push past Flynn, and Flynn shoved him away from me so hard the doctor stumbled backward.
“I won’t allow her to be poisoned.” Flynn yanked several dollar bills from a leather wallet and threw them on the ground. He scooped me into his arms and carried me out of the tent, ignoring the curse words from Doctor Foster.
“Why did I even take yeh there?” His remark wasn’t directed at me, but at himself. “I didn’t want to take yeh there, but I did. I’m such a fool.”
“What are you doing? Take me back to the doctor.”
“Yeh don’t want to take that medicine, Cora. It kills people,” he cautioned. “I’ll find the hotel, get what yeh need, and I’ll take care of yeh. Everything is going to be just fine.”
I buried my face in the side of Flynn’s neck and closed my eyes. He carried me down a couple of streets toward the edge of town where several wooden buildings stood—a saloon, grocery store, and the hotel.
His arms shook under my weight and sweat dripped from his brow, but he never stopped, never took a moment to rest. His determination spurred on by an inner force he’d never revealed.
The tiny hotel was the same as the one in Skagway—canvas curtains that divided the room into sections with several mattresses lying on the floor. Flynn marched down the hallway, and laid me down upon the last empty bed. He took off his pack and pulled out one of his blankets.
“Just stay here, all right? I’ll be back soon.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve got to go find someone to help yeh. Just stay here, keep warm, and get some sleep.”
Chapter 17
My eyes opened and focused immediately upon a lit lantern sitting next to the mattress beneath me. Its illuminating light danced off the canvas curtain in the darkening room.
“Flynn?” My voice hitched in a restless yawn.
“He should return in a moment,” whispered a masculine voice.
I sat up with a jerk, ignoring the pain, and pulled the blanket up to my neck. “Who are you?”
An older, Indian man sat with his legs crossed at the end of the mattress. He held up his hands in a defense-like manner, and his kind smile reached his eyes.
“Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”
“Who are you?” I asked again.
“My name is Payuk. I am from the Tlingit tribe down river and a friend of Flynn’s. He asked me to come and watch over you while he is gone.”
The faint light from the lantern glowed on his caramel colored face, wrinkled from age. The rows of beads dangling from his animal skin coat lapped against one another as he moved, clanking in the silence of the nearly empty hotel.
“Where is Flynn?”
“He left to fetch the sled packed with the supplies that he dropped outside of town after you fell. He should return soon. I brought this for you.” Payuk held out a canteen and nodded for me to take it. His deep brown eyes were kind and full of a wisdom that drew me into them, but still they were the eyes of a stranger. “The juice will help you feel better.”
I glanced from the canteen to the old man and back to the canteen again.
“Thank you.”
Seizing the canteen, I screwed off the cap. My mouth puckered and my throat seized up from the sour liquid. It was worse than sucking on a lime.
Payuk sat rooted in his spot, carving on a chunk of wood with a small, sharp knife. Shavings hit the floor, bouncing in every direction and landing all over the open space.
One landed near my crossed legs, brushing against my foot, and drawing my attention for some unknown reason. Fetching it, the shaving scraped against the dry skin of my fingers, and the edges crinkled a little under the pressure of being touched.
Footsteps thumped down the hallway. Payuk rose to his feet, clasping Flynn’s hand as he appeared from around the curtain. His smile brought warmth and comfort.
“You’re awake,” he said.
“I’m awake,” I whispered.
Snow trotted past Flynn, circling me a few times before she sat down in front of him. Her eyes locked with his and she whimpered for a second and then trotted away, back down the hallway.
“She knows?” Flynn glanced at Payuk who nodded slightly.
“Animals have far better senses than white man believe.”
“So it’s true?”
The old man’s expression pained and saddened as he pointed to the skin under his eyes, then nodded toward me.
Flynn dropped his lantern. It crashed against the wooden floor as he knelt in front of me.
He slid his hands over my cheeks and pressed his thumbs into the skin under my eyes the same way Doctor Foster had done. He exhaled a deep sigh and grabbed the canteen.
“Drink this. It tastes bad, but it’ll make yeh feel better.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked, taking the canteen, but setting it beside me instead of following orders.
“Cora, please drink.”
I obeyed, but it sent chills down my spine, my nose burned, and my tongue rolled over the roof of my mouth.
“How are yeh feeling?”
“I’m just tired,” I snapped, annoyed he kept asking the same question the past few days.
Flynn and Payuk exchanged glances again.
“Irritable?” Payuk asked.
“Like a wild horse confined for the first time,” Flynn mocked.
Payuk nodded. With his eyes fixed upon me, their vague conversation spurred the anxious energy in my stomach. Payuk shook his head as he stared at the ground.
Flynn inhaled a deep breath and ran both of his hands through his hair.
“We need to leave, now,” he commanded with a worried tone.
I buried my face in my hands, groaning. “Flynn, I will not move until you tell me—”
“Cora, yeh have scurvy. You’re sick, really sick. If yeh get worse, yeh could die.”
The concern in his eyes scared me and his words caused my throat to knot up and close. “Take me back to the doctor, then. He wanted to treat me and you wouldn’t let him.”
Flynn’s derisive snort revealed a touch of fear. “Laudanum is not medicine. All he would’ve done is poisoned yeh.” He yanked the blanket from the bed and folded it before shoving it into the pack along with all the other belongings.
“Then, where are we going?”
“To Payuk’s village.”
“My wife can help you.” Payuk stepped closer to the bed, and clasped his hands behind his back.
Confusion plagued me, giving me a throbbing headache. I stood, but my knees buckled and I crumbled to the mattress. Flynn dropped the pack and clutched my shoulders.
“I’m sorry to make yeh leave when yeh need to rest, but I can’t save yeh here.”
“I’ll be all right.”
With one arm wrapped around my waist, he helped me down the hallway and out onto the hotel porch. Weakness and pain overwhelmed every step, but Flynn, my rock, never faltered, and I leaned on him more than I should have.
Laughter and loud banter drifted from the building several feet from where we stood, and the light from the window reflected in the frozen muddy street, flickering as people passed by.
Outside the noisy saloon, a few horses stood tied to a post, their heads bowed and eyes closed, sleeping peacefully amid the noise just a few yards away.
Cold wind blew through my clothes sending a chill through to my bones. I pulled my hat a little further down to cover my ears better. Flynn’s grip around my waist tightened as our boots slid across patches of ice along the vacant street—a different scene than the one I vaguely remembered from this morning.
Snow took off at a near dead run, her ears perked
and tail flicking through the air.
“Where is she going?”
Flynn nodded toward the mountain. “She’s got her own way up and will be waiting at the top for us.” His chuckle whispered softly in my ear. “Damn lucky dog. I tried to follow her once and nearly got myself killed.”
As we reached the edge of town, Payuk and Flynn hooked their lanterns onto the straps of each pack. While they talked in the foreign tongues of Payuk’s language, I stared at the intimidating scene in front of me.
Masked in darkness and only visible for the several feet the lantern light allowed, a narrow and incredibly steep path was carved into the side of the mountain. Rocks and wood boards stacked like stairs with a rope line creating a makeshift railing.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Flynn whispered into my ear.
“How far up is it?”
“Far enough to not concern yourself with how far it is.” He laughed a little under his breath and placed his hand on the small of my back, pushing with a hint of pressure. I grabbed onto the rope railing and stepped onto the first of what I feared would be many, long, exhausting steps.
Climbing toward the heavens, I struggled with my balance. Flynn kept his hand on my back. At times, my pace slowed so much that we shared the same step. Our bodies pressed together so tightly that my mother would have fainted.
Pain shot through my ribs with every step, forcing me to bite my lip to keep from screaming. My lungs gasped for breath, from not only the physical exertion, but the higher we climbed the more the air seemed to disappear.
Wind ripped around us, swirling in every direction, pulling me left, right, and then left again. Higher and higher, we climbed in the freezing, bitter cold.
In the Land of Gold Page 15
