“Do yeh need a plate?” he asked, handing me one of the sticks with now sizzling, cooked sausages on one end.
His smile said he would have been fine with any answer, but the less work washing dishes involved tonight, the better.
“I ate meat off a bone. I think I can handle a stick.”
For the first time since we passed the mourners, Flynn laughed—a belly laugh that nearly knocked him off the log.
Chapter 21
Set back along the riverbank in a snow-covered valley littered with canvas tents and wood buildings, the small town of Dawson City was alive.
A world of gold, liquor, money, and gold miners, she was a mysterious sister I didn’t yet know.
“Congratulations, Cora. Yeh made it to Dawson City,” Flynn whispered in my ear. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, squeezing me tight.
With our destination within my grasp, a sudden burst of energy spurred me toward the town. Even if my legs argued with my haste, even with the tiny limp from my sore feet, and even though I didn’t think I could have taken another step, I strode toward my future.
Before me lay the last several yards of an adventure I once didn’t know if I would survive. I’d struggled through forests, over boulders, up and down mountains, across creeks and rivers, trudged through mud and snow, and what felt like hell most days. I’d lived through things I’d never thought possible.
The narrow trail Flynn and I had traveled the last several months disappeared, and opened to a well-worn path along the riverbank. Flynn trotted to catch up to me and grabbed my hand with his, interlocking his fingers with mine.
“First thing we need to get yeh is a hot meal, then we’ll find the hotel and yeh can get some rest. I’ll take yeh to the claim in a few days.”
“How far is the claim from town?”
“About twenty miles, so we’ll need some fresh supplies not only for the trip, but for the next few months to get us into spring.”
“All right,” I stopped and looked behind me. “Wait, where is Snow?”
“She’ll find us later. She doesn’t care for being in town much and will avoid it if possible.”
Steam billowed off the river and settled in the town along with the hazy smoke of countless wood stoves. We passed supply stores, a blacksmith, and a butcher as we walked through the crowded streets.
People trampled through frozen mud and snow along with horses either prancing with riders or pulling wagons, all hustling in different directions and paying no attention to us.
Flynn kept a tight grip on my hand and led the horses toward one of the larger wooden buildings in the center of town. Hanging above the porch of the building was a sign painted with faded white letters spelling the word HOTEL.
Even though the building was fairly new, it breathed an old grit that left a bad taste in my mouth—another sad excuse for housing guests who wished for a room to sleep in. Of course, the mustiness of the building was due more to the stampeeders tarnishing it with mud and a lack of caring, than from the mold covered wood that appeared half rotten.
Flynn tied the horses to the hitching post, and walked around them, securing the lines. He glanced around, meeting the eyes of a few men passing by.
One looked from Flynn to me, then from Flynn to the horses. He tightened his winter coat around his neck, and drew a few puffs on his pipe as he continued to walk down the street.
“Do yeh have everything important on yeh? The deed, the money?”
“Yes, it’s all in my pack.” I held up the bag by the strap with my fingers, letting it swing a little.
“Not much else I can do, then, if they want it, they’ll take it.” Flynn grabbed my waist and led me down the street away from the hotel.
“What do you mean?”
“If anything gets stolen, there’s not much else I can do.”
“Stolen?”
“Remember when I told yeh about Circle City? Well this city ain’t much different. There’s no law in this town, Cora. No sheriff, no courthouse, and no jail. Men here have too much money, too much time, and they like to add too much whiskey to the problem.”
Since the day my father’s lawyer uttered the words ‘gold claim’, I had built up a little city in my mind. Certainly, it wouldn’t resemble Seattle or Tacoma, but months and months of unknown thoughts had only added to a pictured image of what the town would be like.
In one second and with just a few words, Flynn shattered the sweet illusion I’d foolishly bestowed on the place.
I walked a little closer to him as we continued down the street, passing business after business housed in other new wooden buildings.
Even in the daytime hours, candlelight flickered from the dirty windows, or at least from the glass that wasn’t frozen with ice.
“The saloon is right there,” Flynn said, pointing to a building across the street.
“Do we have to go into a saloon?”
“Nothing wrong with a saloon, lass. Seems as though I can recall that we’ve always had good times in them.” He chuckled at his wit. “It’s the best food in town, though, that’s not really saying much considering the other places, but yeh don’t ever want to brave Sally’s pub at the edge of town. I think the bloody woman has actually killed people with her cooking.”
“I didn’t think saloons had food.”
“No better way to make money than to get a man drunk, sober him up with food, and then get him drunk again.” He squeezed my hand in reassurance.
We crossed the street, nearly missing a collision with a wagon full of men chewing tobacco and holding shovels. A couple of them yelled at us and raised their fists in the air. Flynn waved off their threats, ignoring them, and continued leading me across the street.
As he reached for the saloon’s doorknob, two men barged out the door. Each of them pointing a revolver at the other and cursing.
“You’re a liar and a cheat,” one man yelled. “You don’t love her.”
“That’s my wife, you son of a—”
The first man fired his gun. The bullet hit the second man in the chest and he fell to the ground. I screamed and Flynn wrapped his arms around me, spinning us around, then pushed me up against the wall to shield me from the scene.
Many witnesses scattered, but a few ran towards the saloon, passing us and shouting to grab the gunman.
“Are yeh all right?” Flynn whispered in my ear. “Did I hurt yeh?”
I shook my head, but kept my body pressed tight against his.
A tall man strode across the street—the winter blanket hanging over his shoulders flapped open, exposing a rather large long rifle in his hands.
“Let him go,” the tall man shouted.
“But he just shot a man,” another argued. “We all saw it.” The high pitch in his voice sounded more like that of a child instead of a rather short old man with a long white beard. “He should be hanged for murder.”
“They had a dispute and it was rectified. End of story,” the tall man responded.
Glancing from man to man, I cringed and looked at Flynn. His arms tightened around me.
Following his unspoken lead, I looked away from the two men still arguing over the gunman’s fate, concentrating on the wood boards of the building as we continued toward the saloon doors.
Cigarette and cigar smoke drifted out in a blinding haze as we entered. It choked me, making me cough. For the middle of the afternoon, the saloon was full of patrons, each man blurring together with their dirty, long beards, stained clothing, and body stench that turned my stomach.
Most of the men sat around tables decorated with several bottles of whiskey that were either full, half full, or empty. They held decks of cards in one hand, and cigarettes or cigars in the other.
Scantily clad women balanced on some
of the men’s laps, whispering in their ears and sipping on tall glasses of liquor.
A few of the men turned their attention on us, and one even licked his lips and gave me a wink. I moved behind Flynn, hiding from the room and pressed my forehead into his back.
Without warning, Flynn turned and rushed us both from the building, pushing me through the door and out into the street.
“What are you doing?” I blinked up at him.
“I’m taking yeh back to the hotel.”
“But, aren’t you hungry? What about dinner?”
His pace quickened as he led me down the street and clutched me tighter. “I’ll get the food and bring it back to yeh. I don’t think yeh need to be in a place like that, anyway.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded and checked over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m sure. I have to run by a few supply stores before we head out.”
“So we aren’t staying a few days?”
“Might as well just get out to the claim. No sense in staying here.” He checked over his shoulder again.
“Is something the matter?”
“No. I just want to get yeh to the hotel so you can get some rest. We’ve still got a lot of work ahead of us.”
Our horses remained tied with our all our supplies to the hitching post. They looked as tired as I felt, and in desperate need of a meal, same as me.
Flynn untied a few of the packs, yanking out a few blankets, another canteen, and a sack of dried beef from underneath the canvas before motioning me to follow him.
Just as with every other hotel on the Klondike, the Dawson City hotel was simply another dining hall underneath a second floor of mattresses separated by curtains.
After finally finding an available bed, Flynn stashed my pack in the corner and laid the blankets down for me, folding one up for a soft pillow.
As I sat on the mattress, he knelt down in front of me, and pulled his Colt revolver from his holster.
“I’m going to leave this with yeh.”
“Flynn, what is wrong?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. I just want yeh keep it.”
“All right.” My hand trembled as my fingers wrapped around the cold, hard steel. “I don’t know if I could shoot a person. This isn’t like shooting a rabbit for dinner.”
“Won’t matter, as long as yeh point it at someone they’ll leave yeh alone.”
“Am I in danger? And, you just don’t want to tell me?”
“No, Cora.” He brushed my hair over one shoulder. “I’m just making sure our plans are in place. Remember, no law, no sheriff.”
I nodded, though part of me didn’t believe him.
“I won’t be long. I’ve got to get those horses fed, visit a few of the supply stores, and I’ll bring back dinner. Just lie down and get some rest.”
“All right.”
After storing the gun in my pack, I lay down and pulled the covers over my head, hiding from the world and closed my eyes.
The cold deep in my bones melted from the warmth of the blankets. It occurred to me that even if I lay here, alone, this warm bed was far better than a saloon full of whores entertaining smoking, drunk men, and I fell into the bliss of a dreamless oblivion.
A man snored loudly on the other side of the canvas—the sounds vibrated through the floor and the walls and I jerked awake. How long had I been asleep?
Gray light dimmed through the only window in the room, and as with the sunset, candlelight and lantern light flickered all around.
Sitting up, cold brushed my skin. I glanced around for any sign Flynn had returned, but no other pack lay near the bed and neither did any food. I threw off the blankets and pulled on my boots.
“Good evening Miss . . . Smith, was it?” a voice greeted.
I flinched, stifling a scream as I spun on my heel. Ethan Sullivan tipped his hat as he stood just feet from me. My eyes darted toward the pocket on my pack where the pistol lay.
“And, what of it?” I asked, with a hint of disdain toward him.
“Never thought I’d see the likes of you again, but, I suppose you’d want to stake your claim.” He inched toward me. “Or, should I say your father’s claim. Isn’t that right, Miss Colton?” His last few words growled through his teeth, his lips taught.
A lump caught in my throat and I backed away, shaking my head. “How did you find out who I was?”
“Gossip travels quickly down the trail of the Klondike. Especially, when someone is discussing one of the largest claims sold out of Dawson.” He crossed his arms and squared his shoulders in a commanding stance. “So what lies has he told ya?”
“Who?”
Ethan chuckled. “You look like a smart woman. I think you know who I’m referring to.”
I snorted. “Flynn wouldn’t lie to me. He has no reason to.”
“Actually, it seems kind of obvious why he’d lie. Overhearing him boast in the saloon about the fortune he stumbled upon and then seeing him make his way to the claim office.”
“What are you talking about?” The lump that had formed in my throat fell to the pit of my stomach and my heartbeat kicked up a notch.
“Miss Colton, you don’t know who you are dealing with.” A hint of mockery tinged his insinuation. “Mr. O’Neill was your father’s partner. He lied to you to steal the claim from you when you arrived in Dawson City.”
“That is a lie.” I shook my head. “Months ago you spoke of the claim when we were in the saloon in Skagway. You told Flynn that claim was rightfully yours.”
His right eye twitched as his lips pursed and he yanked a bag from his pocket. He stuffed a chunk of the black chewing tobacco in his lower lip. “You have a good memory.”
My stomach flipped.
“But, it seems you need a bit of a history lesson to show you the truth.”
“I don’t need anything from you. Your lies can stay in the depths of the unknown for all I care.”
No matter how franticly my lungs begged, taking a breath proved too difficult. Numb and weak, I clutched my chest, trying to keep from retching.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find Flynn.” I moved to reach for my pack, but Ethan blocked my advance. His body tense as he bumped me and threw me off balance.
“Excuse me, Mr. Sullivan.”
He grabbed my arm, squeezing it tight.
“You’re hurting me.” I yanked against his grip. “Let go.”
“You aren’t going anywhere, except with me, Miss Colton.”
With his words, a man appeared from the shadows, ropes clutched in his hands.
A scream died in my throat as a fist bashed my jaw. I jerked away from Ethan, fighting with all my strength. He lunged, wrapping his arms around me and driving me to the floor. His weight overpowered me as he covered my mouth.
The other man rushed to tie my arms and legs together. I jerked my limbs, trying to fight them off.
Ethan yanked a handkerchief from his pocket, wadded it up, and shoved the cotton between my teeth, gagging me. Another handkerchief blinded me as they tied it around my head.
“Get her to the claim.” Ethan commanded. “I’ll get her pack.”
Chapter 22
The sled lurched to a halt. Clumsy hands worked the knot at the back of my head, and the handkerchief fell away from my eyes. Blinded by the sun, I strained my neck to block out the light.
“Get her in the cabin,” Ethan ordered.
His partner jerked me from the sled, and my skin scrapped along the wood. He grunted loudly as he hoisted me over his shoulder and trudged through deep snow and up the cabin stairs.
With a squeak and a moan, the cabin door opened, and within seconds, I lay upon a hard, old mattress in the corner of the room.
“St
ay right there,” the man barked before slamming the door as he left.
My eyes focused on a ceiling of old, dirty boards. Black mold spread through the corners, covered by years of cobwebs.
I turned my head to the side, slowly taking in my surroundings. The room was cramped. Just a small bed and dresser in the one corner, and a table with chairs, a wood stove, and a kitchen counter in another.
The walls were bare except for a few shelves stacked with dishes, books, and candles in brass holders. Old lanterns covered in dust hung from nails in each of the four corners, and one sat on the table.
Finally alone, I twisted my wrists, hoping to free them from the hemp fibers. The badly tied knot loosened a little, but not enough to free myself.
I wiggled even more. My cold skin and bones ached with every twist. The knot loosened again. With just a few more wiggles, I might be free.
I jerked my arms, tugging the frosty ropes. A few fibers ripped apart. I wiggled harder, jerking every few seconds until finally the rope loosened enough for me to pull one arm free. I untied my other wrist, pulled the gag from my mouth, and removed the rope from my legs.
“Tools go in the shed.” Ethan’s voice called out, booming through the walls.
I faced the door, listening for footsteps. None came. I stepped back, away from the door, and bumped into the dresser, which rocked back and forth from my weight.
In the Land of Gold Page 19
