At the Rainbow's End

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  She must!

  Choking, she struggled. She struggled until the clouds of smoke smothered her in their black, hot softness.

  “Stop, French!”

  The Mountie ignored the imperious words. “Stop! Now!”

  He turned from his captain to snap, “Gilchrist, I told you before to stay out of the way while I am working. Captain Starnes is planning to blow the Aurora, to stop the fire.”

  “The Aurora? No!” Joel’s clothes creaked with the cold as he grasped the constable’s arm. Teeth chattering from his near narrow escape from the freezing waters, he forced the man to listen to him. “Don’t let them blow it yet!”

  “Look, if we don’t do something soon, we’ll lose Dawson totally.”

  “She … she is—is in th-there.” He forced his exhausted body to grant him the breath to form the words.

  “She?” Eyes as gray as the smoke around them widened in horror. “Samantha? You are sure?”

  He nodded. “Hou-Houseman told me. Leslie Morgain’s room. Don’t let them blow it until we get her out!”

  Nodding, Palmer ran to where his captain was setting to give the order which might be their last attempt to save the city. Quickly he shouted what Gilchrist had told him. Captain Starnes regarded him as if he was mad. A motion near the flames caught the commander’s eye, and he burst into a series of imaginative curses.

  “There goes Gilchrist! Damn him! French, this is your fault! Go get that jackass. You have two minutes to get him and your own useless hide out of that building. It’ll take two minutes to finish the work here. When the boys are done, the Aurora is going sky high. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Get the hell out of here. You’re wasting time!”

  French raced toward the now empty porch of the Aurora. He paused for a moment in the foyer. Overhead, he heard the pounding of footsteps. Leslie Morgain was the dance hall girl Gilchrist had mentioned. He knew which was her room.

  Taking the stairs three at a time, he emerged into the smoke shrouded hallway. The crackling sound of the fire told him it already had reached some of the rooms. He tried not to think this foolish attempt might be too late.

  “Gilchrist!” he called.

  “Down here.”

  It took him only a few seconds, to find the man. Taking his sleeve, he urged, “Come with me. They’re going to blow this place in about a minute and a half.”

  “No! I’ve got to get Sam.”

  “Gilchrist, I know where she is.”

  Joel demanded, “Then why are we standing here? Go!”

  Neither man was surprised to find the door locked. In unison, without speaking, they rushed it, pounding their shoulders against the thin board. It shivered once, then splintered. Smoke puffed out in thick billows.

  Joel pushed past the choking constable. Smoke burned his eyes. Waving his arms like a crazed windmill, he fought his way into the room. Tears blinded him, but he moved toward the opposite wall. At least only the deadly smoke had invaded this small chamber.

  “Sam? Sam, are you here?”

  No answer came to ease the fear exploding in him. Kevin might have lied. Even at the end, he might have lied.

  “Sam?” he shouted desperately.

  Samantha lifted her head at the sounds coming through the reddened smoke. Gagged, throat so dry she could make no sound, she had heard their footsteps pass her door. She had been sure she would die here alone. Now she feared Joel would fall prey to the smoke as well.

  Unable to make a sound, she watched him grope across the room. Pain ripped through her when he stepped toward the window. If he could not find her, he might continue on to another room, to search fruitlessly. Kevin’s revenge would be total. He must not give up!

  Joel grabbed the first heavy thing his fingers closed around, a lamp, and flung it with all his strength through the glass. Throwing his hands over his head, he swung around to determine if he could see anything when the smoke briefly lessened. When the swirls did not ebb enough, he swore loudly.

  Battling the surges of gray, searching for any sign of her, he found the bed when his foot struck something on the floor. His hands slid along the footboard until he located a form crumpled in the center.

  He forced his eyes to focus through the burning smoke. In a voice choked by more than the black cloud, he whispered, “Sam!” Coughing wildly, he felt the lace of her chemise. He warned himself this was not the time to think of what Kevin might have done to her. He had to save her.

  Feeling her face with hands still cold from his near dunking in the Yukon, he found the horrid gag. His hands shook as he untied it. Tears fell from her eyes as he pulled out the cloth.

  “Oh, Sam,” he said, his voice breaking with sympathy. Then he heard the fire roaring toward them. “C’mon! We have to get out of this hell.”

  “I can’t! He tied me to the bed.”

  Running his hand along her arms, he felt the ropes. Rage seared him, then he realized how futile this fury was. Kevin was dead. He had to get Sam out of the Aurora before the dynamite around the doomed building was detonated.

  “A knife, French!” He shouted over the sounds of the fire and the noise from the street. “Do you have one?”

  “Did you find her?” French gasped from the scorching hot hall.

  “Yes!”

  “Then let’s go. The captain is going to give the command to blow this any second now.”

  Joel leapt to where the man stood and grabbed his arm. Desperately he ordered, “Your knife. The bastard tied her to the bed, knowing the hotel would burn.”

  When the blade was placed in his hand, he whirled to find the bed, coughing from the dense, acrid smoke. Sharpened recently, the knife began to cut through the ropes, swift as the fire ate through the wood of the surrounding buildings.

  “Run ahead, French,” he croaked with the remnants of his voice. “Tell them we are coming. Get them to delay until we are out of here. Get us one minute. Two, if you can!”

  The Mountie nodded and raced down the hall. If he did not get to his captain and ask for the extra time, all of them would die.

  Hearing rapid steps fading in the distance, Joel ran back and bent to concentrate on his task. He could barely breathe in the deep churning smoke, now. His motions were hampered by the need to keep wiping his eyes blinking too rapidly.

  “Hurry!” Samantha choked on the single word. Her lungs felt scorched. Breathing was becoming impossible.

  He nodded, not wanting to waste precious air, silently cursing Kevin. The madman had secured her too well to the bed. Layer after layer of rope bound her arms from wrist to elbow to the iron spindles.

  “Hurry!”

  “Relax your arms, honey—don’t want to slice you.”

  “But—the fire!” she rasped, choking. “It’s getting closer!”

  He ignored her, continuing to saw on the ropes. He would not abandon her now … that thought vanished when he nicked the edge of the knife on the spindles again. Each time that happened, it dulled the blade. A crash sounded somewhere outside. He cringed, but not from the detonation of the dynamite.

  “Go!” she gasped. “Don’t die, Joel. Please!”

  When the last rope fell away, he tossed the knife on the floor.

  Scooping her into his arms, he noted how little she wore. He dropped her on the bed and pulled the wool cover over her. Embers fell everywhere. Without her blouse and skirt, she could be burned easily.

  “Joel, Leslie—”

  “What about her?” He lifted her, hoping he could find his way out of the smoke-clogged building, praying it would not blow.

  “She’s here.”

  “Dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s too late for her. Let’s hope it’s not too late for us!” They could not stop to worry about her.

  With her in his arms again, he raced along the path French had taken, as rapidly as he could. After his battle on the river, he had little stamina left, but he marshalled all hi
s remaining strength and staggered toward the stairs. Sam cradled her head against his shoulder, her arms tight around his neck. Feeling each step before seeking the next. He knew he was going too slowly. The rumble of the fire sounded a death knell directly behind them, right on their heels. If he went any faster, he risked falling and losing all chance for escape.

  Hands reached into the smoke to steer him and his beloved burden toward the door. He thought he heard encouraging shouts over the roar of the blazing monster so anxious to swallow them. Behind him he heard a thundering crash as timbers succumbed to the force of the fire.

  Cold slapped him, releasing him from tentacles of smoke, and he coughed up some ash from his lungs. Again the bodiless hands urged him forward with Samantha. He moved, numb and dazed, until someone murmured, “This should be far enough.”

  A crash rocked the frozen ground behind them. Unearthly noise swelled around them. He whirled drunkenly to see the debrís of the Aurora and the neighboring store settling to the earth.

  In his arms, Samantha moaned softly. He had not reacted to her scream, barely heard through the shouts and the echoes of the explosion. When she asked, “What happened?” he remembered she did not know about the dynamite.

  Before he could answer, Constable French rushed up. “Is she—?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” answered Samantha. “Just cold!” She laughed as she added, “It’s so good to be cold again!”

  “Take her down to the Fairview. They have coffee, and a change of clothes for you, Gilchrist.”

  “And for Sam, I hope,” Joel joked, ignoring the clothes frozen to him. “Her things are half way to heaven by this time.” His voice grew serious as he added, “Thanks, French.”

  Palmer smiled, his teeth bright in his smoke-darkened face. “I could say it was all in the line of duty, but take care of your lady. She’s pretty special.”

  “That she is.” Blue eyes smiled at her as Joel squeezed her lightly.

  With a shiver, Samantha covered her embarrassment by asking, “Can we go to the Fairview before I freeze?”

  A crowd swarmed around them as they entered the Fairview Hotel. Joel smiled and set Samantha on her feet. With the blanket cockeyed around her shoulders, revealing the lace of her chemise and her hair loose along her back, she made a charming sight—the bedraggled maiden. He noted several syndicate reporters. Within the next few weeks, Samantha Perry’s dramatic rescue would be in papers across the country. It made the perfect ending for a tale of yet another fire gutting the boomtown.

  “Is this the one?” demanded a feminine voice.

  Suddenly Joel was included in the embrace of a woman in a garish, dance hall gown, but all her attention centered on Sam. He was not surprised she knew a woman of this profession.

  Samantha stepped out of Gwen’s arms. With her lungs still clogged with smoke, she had difficulty breathing. In a scratchy voice, she said, “This is the one. Joel Gilchrist, my dear friend Gwen—”

  “Goddard,” she supplied with a broad wink at her friend. “Charmed, Mr. Gilchrist. So you’re the one who won Samantha?”

  He winced inwardly. Somehow he would have to tell Sam about what happened to Kevin. Not now. He forced a smile. “I guess that’s the truth. I’ve finally convinced Sam to marry me.”

  “You convinced me?” Samantha teased.

  “Something like that.” He put his arm around her and readjusted the blanket.

  “And you intend to marry her?” Gwen chuckled as the younger woman gasped at her forthright question. “Samantha is the type who needs to be made an honest woman. Not like me, I’m afraid.”

  Samantha glanced up at him, unsure how he would deal with Gwen’s effusive behavior. She smiled with sudden shyness as he bent to kiss her lightly. Cheers broke out around the room, generating a heated blush along her cheeks.

  “I’m going to marry her as soon as possible,” he answered.

  “As soon as possible? You mean that?”

  He squeezed Sam’s shoulders as he turned back to her friend. “Yes, Miss Goddard.”

  Gwen whirled to look at the crowd, then leapt onto a circular divan in the middle of the lobby. With her skirts flaring high around her dimpled knees, she caught the attention of every man in the room, calling for them to listen.

  “Is there a preacher here?” she cried.

  As laughter raced through the crowd, Samantha wanted to hide her face. She took Joel’s hand in hers. In a whisper too low for anyone to hear, she said, “Joel, I didn’t think she’d do anything like this.”

  Slowly he brought her to face him. “Do you think I mind marrying you tonight?”

  “Like this?”

  He leaned forward to murmur in her ear, “You look delectable this way, my dear damsel in distress. Let us get this ceremony out of the way. Then I’ll show you how convenient it is to have you dressed so skimpily when I play the rapacious pirate to your captive wench.”

  “I love you.” The soft huskiness in her laugh urged him to take her in his arms and taste the lips he had feared would be lost to him forever.

  Laughter close to her ear broke the enchantment. Gwen was pointing to a slight man walking toward them. “You’d better hurry, Reverend. I don’t think they’ll be able to wait much longer.”

  Pushing her hair back from her face, Joel looked down into Samantha’s eyes. “She’s right. I’ve been waiting all my life for you, Sam. I don’t want to wait any longer. Will you marry me tonight, my love?”

  “How can I refuse?” she asked. She put her hands up to cover his. “Do you think I’d tell you no now?”

  Samantha put her arms around his shoulders as he pressed her close. The other sounds of laughter and rejoicing voices vanished into the silken pulse created by his mouth on hers. This rapture would be hers forever, a joy gilded not by gold, but by the love they had found at the rainbow’s end.

  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 1989 by Jo Ann Ferguson

  Cover design by Neil Alexander Heacox

  ISBN: 978-1-5040-0886-0

  Distributed in 2015 by Open Road Distribution

  345 Hudson Street

  New York, NY 10014

  www.openroadmedia.com