by Jenna Kernan
“I’m off to use the necessary,” she said.
“Is there one?”
“Not really.” She smiled. “Come, Nala.”
Jack had his bedding open and had rolled his coat for a pillow when he heard Lily screaming just beyond the canvas flaps.
“Let her go!”
Jack leapt to his feet and hurtled out of the tent.
Chapter Four
Jack skidded to a halt in the muddy street, dark now, except for the glow of lamps and candles shielded by canvas, but he saw them instantly, tussling in the narrow thoroughfare. He took in the scene in a fraction of a second. Two men—one straining to hold Nala’s harness as the dog jumped and barked in a vain effort to reach her mistress, the other with Lily’s wrists pinned before him, preventing her from reaching her weapon.
Something inside Jack snapped. One minute he was on guard and cognizant and the next he was a wild animal tearing and punching. He grabbed the man gripping Lily by the back of his pants and the collar of his dark coat and lifted him into the air. Her attacker writhed and kicked, for just an instant before Jack threw him onto a stack of firewood, scattering the neat pile. The man lay unmoving amid the strewn cordage. Then he turned on the one holding Nala. The ruffian had taken his eyes off the dog, his jaw dropping open as he witnessed Jack’s approach. In that instant, Nala turned and sank her teeth into the man’s forearm. Jack heard the bone snap. The fellow gave a shriek of pain, but the hound did not let go and began a violent shaking of her head. The man howled in agony.
The idea of forcing the dog to release him never even crossed Jack’s mind. He was too deep into the all-consuming rage. He added his weight to the dog’s attack, punching the man’s face with all he had. The attacker dropped to the ground and fell silent. Only then did Nala unlock her jaws.
Jack turned back to the other man, still unconscious and then returned to the one lying face-down in the mud. Lily moved beside Jack. Instinctively he grasped her around the waist, dragging her tight to his body, holding her in the protection of his arms, his eyes scanning for any remaining threat.
The haze of red receded by degrees and Jack saw the circle of spectators, gawking at him as if he were a madman.
Lily spoke first. “They tried to steal my dog.”
A short, stocky man stepped forward. His face bristled with gray whiskers and tobacco juice glistened on his chin. “Jonathan, get some rope to tie these two.” Next he pointed to a man who stood stoop-shouldered in muddy boots. “Bobby, get that horsewhip of yours.”
Jack suddenly realized what was happening. Vigilante justice—his stomach cramped at the thought. Disapproval filled him. Men could not simply take the law into their own hands. Then his mind flashed to an image of Lily struggling vainly for escape. The fury overtook him again and he decided they deserved far worse.
“Call the authorities!” someone shouted.
There was a moment’s silence and then men guffawed.
“Authorities?” said the stocky man. “There ain’t no law ’til you reach the Canadian border.”
Lily had told him as much. But he hadn’t really understood it until now. He’d never lived in a place where people made up the rules as they went along.
This tent town was an illusion. All these men were gathered only to ready themselves for the push to Dawson. Then the entire town would vanish and remake itself inland. They were like ants, scurrying in the mud.
“What will you do with them?” Jack asked, longing to bloody his fists on the men’s faces again.
“Whip ’em. Then we’ll run them out of Dyea.”
Jack glanced down to see Lily’s strained, brave little face and pulled her even closer, shaken at the realization that he would have killed for her.
Lily still clung to his middle, staring up at him in astonishment. Was that horror or a kind of newfound respect? The need to protect her warred with the desire to claim her as his. Jack slipped one hand up to tangle in her hair, taking possession of her.
She pushed off him like a swimmer from the side of a pool and stepped back.
Her words came to him again. We’re not that kind of partners.
“Damn,” he muttered and let her go.
The two men were dragged off, feet-first. Jack looked at the distance he had thrown the first man and could not quite believe it.
Nala jumped up on Lily, muddying her fine crimson coat. But she hugged the dog, resting her head against the thick scruff of the mongrel’s neck.
“Good girl, Nala. That’s my girl.” Her hound dropped to all fours. But Lily just followed her, squatting in the street before him. She straightened at last, coming close enough for him to breathe in her fragrance of cinnamon and musk again. She placed one hand flat on his chest, reminding him of her earlier caress.
The small action nearly stopped his heart and made it surprisingly difficult to draw a full breath.
“That was very brave,” she whispered. She stepped back and laced her fingers together then wrung her hands. “Thank you.”
He blinked. “You’re welcome.”
“Who’s your man, Lil?” asked a ruddy-faced gent with a fine crop of hair sprouting from each nostril.
She lifted a hand, presenting him to the group of curiosity seekers.
“Boys, meet Jack Snow, my new partner.”
Jack braced, waiting for someone to recognize his surname.
A ripple went through the crowd, but after a moment he realized it was not for the reason he feared. Perhaps he had finally found a place where he could be who he was now instead of who he had been.
Some of the male bystanders looked amused, while others simply stared, slack-jawed. A few stepped forward to shake his hand or clap him on the shoulder. He breathed again when he realized they did not know him or his family. The scandal that had blanketed the pages of the papers in New York meant nothing to these men. No one knew. No one cared—no one but him.
Lily’s smile was bright and her laughter contagious. She seemed the darling of the street with many admirers already. It took a long while for the men to return to their tents.
At last, Nala had had enough and ducked between the flaps and out of sight. Lily laughed and followed her example.
“He staying in your tent?” asked a man with a gray-streaked beard.
She turned and rested a hand on her hip, looking down her nose at the man. “Your partner sleep in your tent, Bill?”
“Well, yeah, but…”
“But what?” she asked, daring him to say another word.
He rubbed the toe of his boot in the mud. “It’s different.”
She laughed. “Get your mind out of the gutter, boys.” She aimed her finger at them. “All of you. The only female Jack will be sleeping with tonight is Nala.”
Jack pressed his lips together as the others laughed. With that she sniffed and disappeared into the tent after her hound. Jack suddenly worried over his bedding and the muddy dog that preceded him into the tent. He hurried to follow.
Just as he feared, Nala had dragged his bedroll into a nice muddy mess on which she was now curled. Lily ordered her dog up and handed Jack his bedding, now streaked with dirt.
“Don’t worry. If you plan on being a miner, everything you own will soon look like this.”
Jack accepted the grimy blankets with dismay that lasted only until Lily’s next words.
“Let’s get some sleep.”
Jack stood as if petrified as she sat on her cot and removed her boots with a button hook, carefully placing the worn leather beneath her bed. Then she peeled out of her coat, revealing a neat blue woolen bodice and matching skirt.
She began to brush the mud off her coat.
“Do you have a sweetheart, Mr. Snow?”
He thought he’d prefer jumping back in the icy inlet waters than tell her about his former fiancée, Nancy Tinsen.
“Never stayed with one long enough to call her that.”
Lily pulled a face, and then unbuttoned her bodice. She stopped when the garment gapped, revealing the fine, soft swell of her breasts above the corset that cinched her in the middle.
“Here is what will happen. You’ll excuse yourself and go for a walk. When you come back the lamp will be out and I’ll be in bed. If you try to crawl under my blankets, I’ll use my pistol.”
“What if you try to crawl under mine?”
That stopped her. She gaped a moment and then laughed. “Well now, then I suppose you have your choice to throw me out or keep me.”
“I’d keep you.” He held her long stare. She looked away first.
Her voice seemed breathless when she next spoke. “I can’t see that happening.”
Now it was his turn to smile. “Can’t you?”
He was gratified to see her flush. So he hadn’t imagined the pull between them. He didn’t want a full-time woman, not when he was still bruised and battered from his failed engagement. But he wasn’t beyond taking what a woman offered.
“You can take that walk now.”
Jack lifted the flap but she called him back.
“And Jack?”
He turned, thinking her beautiful in the lamplight.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you for tonight.”
He pinned her with a steady stare. “What are partners for.”
Then he left her, before the temptation to stay caused him to do something he’d regret. He paused beyond the tent, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He could scarcely make out the dark silhouette of the figure across the road.
“Toss you out already?” he asked.
Jack could see little beyond the glowing tip of a cigarette, but he made his way over.
“So it seems.” He walked to the man who offered his tobacco pouch. “No, thanks.”
The man took another puff. “Thing about canvas is that voices carry. I guess folks know just about everything about their neighbors here, ’cept they aren’t neighbors, since folks come and go by the minute. Nobody really cares for anyone but themselves—and their partners, of course. The rest is all entertainment.”
“Why you telling me this?”
“Just to thank you for livening up this little corner of the swamp. I’m George Suffern.”
Jack shook his hand.
“When you two pushing up the Chilkoot?”
“Sooner is better,” said Jack.
“I suppose. The steamers will keep coming until the passages freeze. Father Winter hits early in the mountains. Maybe best to stay down here, then head up come spring.”
Jack sat on the crate beside him. “No, you’re wrong. Best to get up to Lake Bennett and spend the winter building your boat. Then you’ll be in position when the ice break-up comes. From there it’s all downhill to Dawson.”
“Through rapids and lakes filled with more mosquito larva than fish.”
Jack laughed. “That’s why it’s an adventure. A test of a man’s metal.”
“And what about Lily? She’s your partner now, so it’s your lookout to see she gets to Dawson. Big responsibility. I reckon that’ll test your metal more than the Golden Stairs or the White Horse Rapids.”
Jack winced as he chafed against their bargain. If he were a different kind of man he’d leave her behind and never look back. But, unlike his father, Jack valued his word and kept his promises. So he would attend to his responsibilities, but it annoyed him that he’d somehow fallen into the worst of all situations, giving him all of the responsibilities of keeping a woman with none of the benefits.
He glanced at the tent in time to see the light extinguish. Lily was now climbing into her narrow bed alone—such a shame. Jack stood, drawn by the perfect image of Lily’s fine luminous skin glowing in the moonlight. His throat went dry as he took a step.
George cleared his throat, making Jack recall his presence.
He stopped and gave the man his attention. He didn’t like the man’s mocking smile.
“My daddy used to say that you should never tie an eagle to a plow horse, because the arrangement won’t be good for either of them. I’m afraid, son, you’ve got yourself in just such a situation.”
Jack wondered if he were the eagle or the horse. But he’d heard enough lectures about the folly of this venture from his mother who had advised he stay put, lower his expectations in the marriage market and seek a bride outside their former circles. It might still come to that, but first he would try and be his own man. Jack thought his mother might even admire his wish to restore them to their rightful place, if she could only see past her fears of losing him forever. He knew the risks here. The dangers were real, but they were real back there. What hope did he have, cloaked in scandal, flat broke, with no degree and no prospects? Save the one his mother had found him. He cringed. Here, at least, he stood a chance to be his own man instead of having to marry a woman he did not even know. But if he failed he might be forced to that to provide for his mother and sister. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.
I’m sorry, Mother, I’ve got to try, he thought, placing a hand over his heart and her telegram that had found him in Seattle.
His greatest fear was dying up here and leaving his mother and younger sister dependent on the charity of his aunt and uncle.
“You two sure are a mismatched team.” George blew a smoke ring. “Maybe you should…she told me that before this she’d never been more than five blocks in any direction. Don’t think she’s prepared for this, though she knows her own mind, I suppose.”
Jack felt a chill run down his back at the realization that Lily knew nothing of the dangers of this wild place. She’d shown tonight how ill-equipped she was, nearly losing her dog to ruffians. Somehow he’d been taken in by her bravado, but now it suddenly became clear that his job would involve more than carrying her to Dawson. He’d have to defend her from other men as well. Could he do it? He had to.
Jack lifted his collar but felt no warmer as he realized he was not the eagle, but the workhorse.
“’Night,” he said to George.
“See you in the morning.”
Jack returned to the tent, but Lily said nothing as he slipped inside. He found Nala on his bed again and began a wrestling match that ended in a draw, with him under his blankets and the big dog stretched out beside him, half under Lily’s cot. The rest of the night involved Nala’s steady encroachment onto his territory with the relentlessness of any claim jumper. Even sleeping on the deck of the steamer had been more restful than this.
Small wonder he did not hear Lily rise, but came awake to the sound of many male voices and Lily’s clear soprano piping above the rest.
“Seconds are a nickel more.”
Jack opened his eyes and glanced about the empty tent. The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee brought him to a sitting position and the mouthwatering fragrance of biscuits had him into his boots and out the tent flap.
There stood Lily behind a plank table which held a giant cast-iron griddle filled with fluffy brown biscuits. Beside that sat the coffeepot that looked as if it had been kicked down a long and rocky slope.
“Oh, there you are at last. Mind the table while I check the next batch. It’s fifteen cents for black coffee and one biscuit. No seconds on the coffee.”
With that she left him to the line of men holding empty cups and bandannas. Jack burned his fingers trying to lift out one of the golden cakes and thereafter used the spatula. He’d only two left when she reappeared with a square bake tin filled with a new supply.
“I’ve never seen a more industrious individual in my life,” he said.
She smiled at him and then went back to pouring coffee while he stayed staring after her. He’d never met a woman like her. She was a dynamo of activity. Had it been only yesterday he had judged her worthless as a partner? It was obvious now that Lily was more than she appeared.
Chapter Five
Jack noticed that some of the men brought her a h
alf cup of coffee beans instead of cash, which she collected in a bag on the table. The coins went into a small can. Nala spent her time scouring the ground for any crumbs left by the hungry stampeders. When the second pan was empty she called to the men still waiting in line.
“That’s the lot, gents.”
A groan rose from the line, but they shuffled off.
Lily collected her pot, can and tins. “The board and crates go just there.”
