When Joel urged them to join the line of diners, Kevin frowned. He wondered if Samantha had noticed his touch. She had not reacted in any manner.
Hurrying to take a plate, Samantha could sense Kevin’s displeasure. She could never be indifferent to him, but his touch brought no swell of emotion, as Joel’s did. Anything she said might hurt him, or urge him to try to change her mind.
“Good evening,” she said as one of the ladies held out her dish.
“Well, hello!” gushed the buxom woman. “And who are you, child?”
“Samantha Perry. I’m living out on Fifteen Above on the Bonanza.”
The white topped head turned from Kevin to Joel. “So you finally convinced her to come up here, did you?” She glanced at Samantha’s left hand. “Not so successful at talking her into marrying one of you yet, I see.”
Joel offered her his most charming smile. “It has been our misfortune to discover Miss Perry has a definite mind of her own. She refuses to be browbeaten into deciding which of us will be very happy, and which miserable.”
“Good for you, Samantha,” the woman stated. “Too many men in the Klondike for you to tie yourself down too quickly. It’s a shame winter is bearing down on us. There are so few women up here, we in Grand Forks get together on Wednesday evenings, when our menfolk are attending their so-called lodge meetings. As we’re in the church, it isn’t fitting to talk about what they really do when they meet at the dance hall.” She winked broadly. “Mayhap you can talk Joel and quiet Kevin into bringing you in, once spring arrives next April.”
“Mayhap,” Joel agreed in the same light tone. “Now, how about some of that stew before I fade away from hunger, Mrs. Young?”
“You have a ways to go, lad. Looks like not having to eat your own cooking agrees with both of you.” She ladled out generous servings on all three platters. “Get your rolls from Mrs. Noonan. Mrs. Fowler has coffee. If you smile pretty, Mrs. Ritchie might give you a piece of pie.”
Kevin grinned. “Why are all you good cooks married?”
“To make you young bucks appreciate us more,” she teased. Waving her spoon at them, she urged them to move along, so the others could be served. She called after Samantha, “I’ll see you when I’m done serving, child. I’m sure you could use some womanish conversation.”
Feeling Mrs. Young’s warmth as she walked along the line, Samantha sensed she was being welcomed as a new member of their small sorority. Each woman teased her companions about the cleanliness of their clothes, and how smart Samantha was not to choose between them.
“Go ahead and find us a seat,” urged Joel. “I’ll get our coffee. Kevin, why don’t you give her your plate? Then you can carry my dessert.”
Leaving them to work out the details, she turned to survey the room. Every eye seemed riveted on her. She hesitated, then walked to the empty spot on the bench which Kevin had pointed out to her. Quietly greeting the men nearby, she was startled when they leapt to their feet and waited for her to sit before they resumed eating. Never would she become accustomed to the fact she was a rare and precious commodity in the Yukon.
When she selected her seat, the men lowered themselves onto the crowded benches. No one spoke directly to her, but she knew how aware of her they were. More than one paused in the middle of a curse to glance guiltily in her direction. She smiled, secretly amused. This was the first time she had considered herself a civilizing influence.
Putting her fingers over her mouth to hide her mirth, she doubted that any of these men would think her likely to tilt two bowls of stew over a man’s head.
She felt more comfortable when Joel and Kevin crossed the room and sat on either side of her. She picked up her napkin and unrolled it to reveal her eating utensils. With her eyes on her lap, she took great pains to spread the stained cloth neatly. She brushed out every wrinkle before she lifted her gaze as far as the tabletop.
“So this is why you two have been hiding out at Fifteen Above.”
Samantha looked across the table to see a burly man regarding her with unveiled lust. If he had taken a bath recently, she saw no signs of it in his long hair, which hung in oil-thick strands past his collar. Pale eyes, squinting as he must when the sun burned bright on the crisp, Arctic snow, roamed over her face and upper body with obvious enjoyment.
On her right, Joel lowered his knife to the table. Out of sight of anyone, he put his hand over hers in her lap. Easily he said, “I had no idea that working hard would be considered hiding out, Ogilvie.”
“Haven’t you realized you will never get a sparkle out of that useless skunk claim?” He laughed heartily. “So in what dance hall did you find this desperate whore?”
Joel’s hand tightened over hers. He was trying to hold his temper in rein.
Ogilvie chuckled. “She must be desperate. She’s with you two, isn’t she?” His gaze moved back to Samantha. “I can understand why you would need two, when neither of them is half the man I am. What do you say you get rid of these fools, and let me show you the rewards of being with a real man?”
“Is that so, Mr. Ogilvie?” She squeezed Joel’s hand to keep him from interrupting. Opening her eyes wide, she affixed an innocent expression on her face. She put her other hand on Kevin’s arm as he started to react to Ogilvie’s lascivious smile.
“Sure thing.”
“I’m so sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Ogilvie, but I hardly think you are qualified to show me anything.” Her dark eyebrows lowered as she glowered at the man. “In the future, I must insist that you keep your insulting inferences to yourself. These men are my business partners.”
Again he laughed. “I’m sure of that, darling. When you two are looking for customers for her, be sure to remember me.”
His amusement faded as Joel and Kevin exploded from their bench. The table tilted, spraying food over everyone. Hands grabbed her and pulled her away as the room dissolved into violence. Fists sounded with dull thuds on thick flesh. Screeches rang through the room.
Scared Kevin or Joel would be hurt, she started to step forward. Hands tightened on her. A hissed warning not to be foolish whistled in her ears. She did not look over her shoulder to see who held her. All of her thoughts were centered on the two men who shared her home.
His strong voice carrying over all other sounds, the pastor stood next to his altar, his face disfigured with rage. Again, he shouted, and those closest to him stopped fighting and helped him halt the others. She was not surprised to see Joel standing next to the minister. Scanning the room, she discovered Kevin wiping blood from cracked lips and smiling at a man who leaned drunkenly on him.
When all was quiet, the man in black demanded, “How can you act like this in God’s house? We open the hall to offer you a good meal, so you don’t sicken as you did last winter from too many flapjacks and beans. We plan entertainments for free, so you don’t have to spend your hard-earned dust at the Gold Hill Hotel or the dance hall, or Dewey’s. This is how you repay us?” He glared about the room. “Who started this?”
As the men looked at the floor like guilty children, trying to avoid his piercing eyes, Samantha bit her lip. Snaking off the hands holding her, stepping over a broken bench, she walked resolutely toward the clergyman and stood before him.
“I did, Reverend,” she said with quiet dignity.
A slow smile crossed his lips as he saw the sorrow in her dark eyes. That she was brave enough to come forward when the men cowered before his wrath pleased him. He did not have to be told what had happened. From where he was serving food, he had seen how the men ogled her. He recalled she had come with Houseman and Gilchrist. Almost everyone had heard about the mail order bride they had lured north with some false scheme.
“You?”
At his much lighter tone, she relaxed and smiled. “I’m afraid so, parson. I’m afraid I am a disruptive influence.”
“I would say so.” His scowl returned as he looked past her. “What are you men standing there for? Stop gawking like fools at the c
ircus. Clean up this mess. Young lady, please come with me.”
Not sure what he intended, she nodded. While Mrs. Young handed out cleaning rags and set the men to resurrecting the dining room, Samantha followed the pastor into the kitchen. He leaned on the counter by the dry sink. Dark eyes regarded her with a kindness which she had not experienced in longer than she could remember. Since she had arrived in the Yukon, everyone seemed to want something from her. She needed someone who could offer warmth without expecting something in return.
“You’re Miss Perry, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Reverend.”
He smiled when he heard her terse answer. “I guess you’ve learned you’re quite famous here along the Bonanza.”
“It’s a notoriety which doesn’t please me.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Do you need help?”
Her forehead creased with bafflement. “Help, Reverend?”
“Reverend Healy,” he supplied with a smile at her continue tact. “I believe you are trapped in a situation distressful for one who is so obviously a lady.”
She understood immediately. Eager to assure him she appreciated his concern, and allay his fears, she said, “Thank you so much, but I’m fine, Reverend Healy. I made it clear to Mr. Gilchrist and Mr. Houseman from the beginning that I did not intend to be bound by terms I had not agreed to. Presently, I’m taking care of the household chores while they prospect. I will get a third of all they discover, once I pay back my fare north to them.”
“That could be a long time. Most of these claims turn out barren.”
“I do have the promise of a ticket out of Dawson to St. Michael.” She did not add more about First Mate Penn’s offer. That was a secret she wanted to keep. If Joel or Kevin discovered it, they might find a way to undermine her plans. “I thank you for your concern, but I’m fine. I really am.”
Patting her shoulder, he nodded. “It does seem you are quite capable of handling the situation. If at any time it becomes too much, remember you can find shelter here.”
When his expression suddenly became hard, she wondered if she had somehow angered him. Then he said, looking past her, “I assume you are here seeking Miss Perry, Mr. Gilchrist?”
Samantha whirled to see Joel’s grin. He showed no signs of being in a fight. It was out of character for him to become involved in such antics, and he had emerged unscathed.
“I am, and I see she is safe with you. I didn’t want to think of her being insulted by more of those rowdy fools out there.” He grew serious. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
She put her hand on his arm. “I am fine, Joel. I know better than to strike a man twice my size.”
His fingers covered hers. Gazing down into her face, he knew her sharp tone covered dangerous emotions she did not want to reveal to the minister. Sam had been truly concerned about him being injured. Deciding she was at last falling in love with him, he congratulated himself silently. His efforts had not been in vain, after all.
When Joel turned to lead her back into the hall, the clergyman said, “Before you go, Mr. Gilchrist, I suggest you think about the damage done to the hall. I will be passing the plate momentarily.”
“I expected that, Reverend.”
“Good!” Reverend Healy’s smile did not match his sharp tone. Stepping past them, he walked out of the kitchen. Through the door, they could hear the raucous complaints which met his announcement.
Drawing her close, Joel felt her tremble with restrained fear. When she leaned her head on his shoulder, he whispered against her hair, “Sam, I told you that you tempt me, but I didn’t expect to become a crazy dashing cavalier and rescue you from that ogre Ogilvie.”
“It wasn’t necessary.”
“No, but it was fun.” His other arm went around her waist as he felt her move away. He did not want this moment to end so soon. “That is one thing I always have when you are around—fun! Perhaps not the type I would choose, but interesting experiences nonetheless.”
She laughed softly. “You are very odd, Mr. Gilchrist.”
“And you are very beautiful, Miss Perry.”
His mouth caressed hers for the briefest second before he released her. Then he led her into the main room, knowing that her face glowed because of his burning, unsated love.
Samantha accepted a plate from the voluble Mrs. Young and sat at the closest table. As she ate, she thought about the fact that she was more distressed by her fright for Joel than by causing the brawl. Over and over, eyes down, she asked herself what urged her to surrender to the physical longings with him. He was often brash, and too forceful with her. He irritated her with sharp comments. Why did she want to be with him all the time?
Love.
She forced the word from her mind. She did not want to love Joel Gilchrist. Although he murmured endearments when he held her, she held few hopes that he would come to love her. Above all else, Joel cared about what he was going to gain out of any situation.
She knew that. She knew all of that. Why, then, couldn’t she stop imagining a life with him, far from the horrors of the Klondike?
She sighed, resisting the answer in her mind. She did not want to love him. She would never allow herself to be so foolish.
Never.
Chapter Eleven
The stars seared the black sky with cold fire. Wisps of the Aurora Borealis flowed in ghostly patterns between them. Mud crunched beneath Samantha’s feet as the cold hardened it into strange patterns. No wagons could navigate this frozen sea contorted by uneven waves.
“I think I need a drink after all that,” said Joel as he put his left hand in his coat pocket. The other held Samantha’s. “Where to? Dewey’s or the dance hall?”
His partner said quietly, “I think Samantha would prefer the dance hall. Remember what we witnessed last time we went to Dewey’s?”
“You’re probably right, although I’ve never seen a fight more enthusiastic than the one at the church.”
“Joel,” she admonished. Her fingers tightened in his hand. “Can’t we forget that?”
He chuckled at her embarrassment. Her modesty continued to charm him. A more brazen woman would have been delighted to have a roomful of men fighting for her honor. “I doubt any of us will forget it for a long time, after the hefty, so-called donation the reverend extracted from every man there.”
“I heard McKinnon talking about a major strike on the Eldorado last month,” said Kevin, to ease Samantha’s distress.
Relieved that he had changed the subject, Samantha did not want to recall her uneasy thoughts at supper. It was simpler to convince herself that she cared for both of these men equally. She frowned, wondering again why “Joel Houseman” could not have existed. His gentleness and aspirations had matched her own. Sometimes she caught glimpses of the imaginary man in Joel, but she never got close enough to discover if it was real, or just another act to seduce her into his arms.
Soon they paused in front of a storefront brightened by two kerosene lanterns. The sod-topped, one story building did not resemble its much finer Dawson cousins. When they stepped inside, though, she felt transported back to the larger city, to a dance hall she had peered into as she walked with Mrs. Kellogg.
Nearly a dozen women danced with customers in the center of the crowded room. Many other men waited with ill-concealed impatience for the minute-long dance to be completed, then paid their dust for an equally short turn.
Kevin pointed to an empty table and pushed past his partner to pull out a chair for Samantha. Thanking him gratefully, she kept her eyes lowered. While the blond signaled for a waiter, Joel secretly took her hand beneath the table top.
“Honey, don’t be so concerned about men looking at you,” he whispered. “They just enjoy looking at women, especially beautiful ones like you.”
“I’m just tired of being appraised, like a mare on the auction block.”
He chuckled at her outspoken words on this subject, which always
brought an enticing blush to her cheeks. “I can assure you, Sam, they don’t look at you in that way. They just are envious of Kevin and me for being with the prettiest woman in the Yukon.”
She brushed aside his effusive compliments, not sure if he knew how much they pleased and disquieted her. Was he being honest or merely joking? Sighing, she looked directly into his face, revealed by the rosy glow of the colored lanterns hanging from the ceiling.
Struck by his handsomeness, leaning toward him, she did not realize she had placed her hand on his steel hard leg until he put his over it. Her lips softened while her fingers slid away from his on soft wool, so different from his usual denim trousers. A glow she had never seen came into his burning sapphire eyes—gentler yet hungrier than any expression she had seen there.
“Sam,” he breathed.
The word sent a storm within her spiraling to blazing heights, swirling her through a maze of muted, love-lit images, stirring her deep hunger for the feast she yearned to sample. Unaware, she raised her hand to touch his cheek. To her right, a laugh burst into her dream of fleeing the present to find rapture in the madness of love.
Turning, she fixed a smile on her face, and knew how weak it was when Kevin asked, “Is something bothering you, Samantha? I know this isn’t exactly the entertainment you are accustomed to.”
“Nothing,” she lied. She could not tell him she had forgotten his existence—as well as the rest of the world—while she had dissolved into warm pools of desire.
“A drink?” Kevin sensed she was not being totally honest with him, but ignored this.
“Wine, please.”
“Beer for me,” added Joel.
Kevin’s smile tightened. He felt he had been cast in the role of servant again. The waiter, busy arguing with one of the dance hall girls, ignored Kevin’s attempts to gain his attention. Shoving back his chair, he rose with a rumble of disgust.
Samantha watched him use his frustration as a battering ram to propel him through the crowd. “Joel, sometimes you treat him so poorly. Ordering him about. He doesn’t like it, you know.”
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