Gold Dust (27 page)

“I’d be squeaking too if a wolf decided to collect me for the stewpot.”

“We need to conserve our provisions,” Katy said sharply. “The nearest grocer is a few days’ hike away.”

Jonah raised his arms in surrender. “What did I say? Pica sounds delicious. Mmmm!” He could picture Katy serving pica stew
to his mother when his family came to visit for Sunday dinner. That was something he would love to see. He truly would.

“I’ll skin and clean ‘em,” Andy offered.

“All right,” Katy said. “Give one of them to Hunter, and give him the innards of the rest.”

“Yes’m.”

Now that was an appetizing picture indeed, Jonah reflected as Hunter trotted after Andy. He wondered if his mother would be
able to teach Katy to cook.

“I saw your friend Maude and her group a while ago,” Katy said, her back to him and her face hidden.

She bent over and picked up a piece of firewood to throw onto their little fire, and Jonah couldn’t help but notice the way
her trousers stretched tight over her small rounded bottom. His reaction was instant and uncomfortable. If trousers ever became
accepted fashion for women, he mused, the men of the world were doomed.

“They got through the border and are headed down the other side,” she continued.

“Huh? Oh… yeah. Good. Uh… listen, Katy.”

“Listen to what?”

“Have you… seen the view over here?”

Katy looked at him as though he were some kind of idiot. He
was
an idiot.

“Yes. I’ve seen the view.”

Just leap right into the subject and get it over with, Jonah told himself. Then again, why not give her time to think about
what a mistake she’d made in refusing his offer. They had at least another five weeks before reaching Dawson. Plenty of time
for her to realize what a good catch he was.

He wandered over to a high point that afforded a spectacular
vista of the surrounding wilderness. She followed and sat beside him on a large, flat boulder. That was a good sign. Maybe
the wedding had put her in a receptive, romantic mood.

“If you look real hard down this way, you can see the Lynn Canal,” he said.

Katy squinted in the indicated direction, then smiled. “Sort of reminds me of the mountains above my pa’s mine.” The sharpness
had left her face. Her expression was soft, her smile a gentle reflection of fond memories. “Sometimes I’d climb up to Thunder
Ridge, high above our cabin, and look out over all the mountains and valleys. It was a lot like this.”

“It’s really something,” Jonah admitted. “Almost another world. Unsullied. Untamed. Wild and clean and free.”

Katy sighed. “My world.”

“Beautiful.” His eyes were on her, not on the view. The soft curve of her cheek, the delicate arch of her brow, the stubborn
lift of her chin—that beauty drew his eye more surely than anything this wilderness could offer. “Katy,” he said quietly.
“This is only one world. There are others just as beautiful. I’d like to show you mine.”

She frowned slightly.

“Don’t jump to saying no,” he warned. “Last night was special, Katy. Sometimes a man and a woman want each other and—” her
lifted brow made him hesitate, but he plunged on. “And they lie together and do the things we did, and it doesn’t mean anything,
really, except that they scratch an itch.”

Color was crawling up Katy’s face, but Jonah kept on. He figured that anyone who could face down the Hacketts, thumb her nose
at angry gamblers, and eat pica stew should be able to talk about sex without turning purple.

“That’s not what we did, Katy. We made love. It was special, and it means we’re special. We’re special together. I love you.
I really do want to marry you. Katy, I think you love me, too. I’m hoping that watching that wedding might have gotten you
thinking in that direction, thinking about me.”

His hopes sank as he saw her almost visibly draw her armor of cocky nonchalance about her. “If it did, I was thinking how
to feed your face for dinner without burning another batch of beans. Stop bothering me with all this marriage nonsense, Jonah.
You’ve done the noble thing and proposed, but I keep telling you that I don’t care what other people think.”

“I love you, Katy.”

Her color grew deeper. “You shouldn’t. You don’t even know me. If you knew me, you’d know I can’t marry you.”

“Goddamn it, you bullheaded little idiot! What is your problem?”

“You’re the one with the problem!” she snapped. “You’re the one feeling guilty!”

If one rejection stung, then double the dose felt like a cat-o’-nine-tails snapped across Jonah’s exposed feelings. “I’m not
guilty of anything but getting softheaded over a female. You’re the one who prances around in trousers, gambles like some
kind of fancy cardsharp, and bellies up to the bar like a… like a tart.”

“I am not a tart! I like to wear trousers. Just try wearing all those skirts and a corset and see how comfortable you are!
And I like to ride, shoot, gamble, and cuss. How could you want to marry me if you don’t like who I am? That’s who I am, and
that’s who I’ll always be!”

“Damned little fool! That’s not who you are.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it isn’t! I’ll tell you who you are, Katy O’Connell.”

She turned her face away, but he was having none of that. Taking her stubborn chin in a firm grasp, he forced her to look
at him. I’ll tell you who you are. You’re a pair of the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen, the most gorgeous hair,
the smoothest skin. But that doesn’t even begin to define who you are. You’re a butterfly just crawling out of her cocoon,
with a spirit like the wind. There’s not an ounce of artifice in you. You’re strong, smart, and brave—about everything but
your heart. You’re not afraid of passion. You’re not really
afraid of Chicago—hell! You’d take the city by storm if you wanted to. I’ll tell you what you’re afraid of, Katy O’Con-nell—you
chicken. You’re afraid of me, because with me you feel like a woman.”

“Bullshit!”

“Bullshit yourself, you little fiend.” He bent forward and kissed her hard. Her lips were stiff and cold. He felt rather than
saw her hand ball into a fist against his chest. Katy being what she was, she could have decked him with that fist if she’d
truly wanted to. She didn’t, though. Her lips softened and opened beneath his. He took the invitation and scoured her mouth
with his own, wanting to cure her of this foolishness by the force of his own passion.

Regrettably, he eventually had to surface for breath. The pause gave Katy time to regroup. She sucked a deep breath into her
lungs and pushed him away. “You’re not acting very brotherly, brother dear!”

“To hell with that act! I’m past caring what people think. You love me, Katy. I know you do. And you’re going to marry me
sooner or later.”

He reached for her again, but she retreated. “No! This is not going to happen again.”

Jonah grinned. “You don’t think so?”

“It is not. This has gone all wrong. You get to Dawson yourself, Mr. Know-it-all. You and Andy. You always claimed you could
do just fine without me.” She scrambled to her feet.

“Katy wait! This is ridiculous!”

“I’ll take a couple of the packers and leave you the rest. You can have the tent.”

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” he said in amazement as he followed her back to their camp.

“I don’t want your company any longer, Jonah. Go write your goddamned stories and bother somebody else!”

“Coward!”

She stopped and whirled to face him. “I am not a coward, you randy horned toad!”

“You’re afraid to stay with me. Afraid you’ll give in. Afraid you might have to grow up!”

For a moment Jonah thought she might hit him. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. Her eyes narrowed into bright slits
of green fire. He almost wished she would hit him. His temper was high enough that he just might take a swing back. But in
the end she merely ground her teeth, growled, and stomped away, leaving him with a fireball of frustration eating at his gut.

“Way to go, Romeo,” he mocked himself. “You’ll have her eating out of your hand in no time.”

Katy couldn’t decide which was more difficult, the up or the down. Climbing to the summit of Chilkoot Pass had been exhausting,
but scrambling down the other side just plain hurt. Her knees and back ached, the muscles of her legs quivered, her hands
stung from bracing herself on rough boulders and falling on patches of loose gravel that slid from beneath her feet.

Downhill, she decided. Downhill was definitely worse than up—not only because gravity tried constantly to send her down the
mountain much faster than she wanted to go. Climbing up to the summit she’d had Jonah to watch, spar with, dream about—yes,
she admitted that she’d done a bit of foolish dreaming, never suspecting the trouble it would get her into. Going down from
the summit she had only Patrick Burke’s stupid whistling to listen to, along with Liam’s fussing.

Katy stopped for a moment—a tricky feat going down a trail this steep. Her calves were demanding a rest in no uncertain terms.
Camilla stopped behind her by putting a hand on Katy’s shoulder to momentarily steady herself.

“Would you like me to carry Liam for a while?” Camilla offered.

“No. We’re fine.” Katy figured the weight of the baby in his sling against her chest balanced the weight of the pack on her
back. Still, she didn’t envy Camilla for carrying the kid all the way from Dyea to the summit. He was a load, and a noisy
one at that.

“Really, Katy, it’s very nice of you to spell me, but I don’t mind carrying him. You look tired.”

“Nah. I’m strong as a horse.”

“Yes, dear. You’re amazingly strong. But sometimes an emotional upset—like your disagreement with your brother—can drain a
person’s energy.”

Patrick had stopped whistling. He leaned on his walking stick and called to them from down the trail. “What’s the delay back
there?”

“We’re coming,” Camilla called back.

“Let’s go!” Patrick shouted. “Time’s a burning.”

“Jackass,” Katy muttered under her breath. Patrick Burke was a living, breathing advertisement for spinsterhood. He had the
constitution and strength of an ox, and it never occurred to him that Camilla, frailer than he and burdened with the care
of their infant, might not be able to maintain the pace he set. Impatience with his wife often broke through his whistling
good humor.

“I don’t understand men,” Katy sighed as they started down the trail again.

“Best not to try,” Camilla warned.

“And I don’t understand why we let men make all the rules.”

“You’re brooding about your brother. You had a row about some rules, dear?”

Katy hesitated only a moment. “Jonah’s not my brother.”

“Ah,” Camilla said with a smile. She didn’t seem at all shocked.

“We say I’m his sister because he thinks people will get the wrong idea. I’m his guide. He hired me to take care of him on
the way to Dawson.”

“My goodness. Jonah seems to me like a man who can quite well take care of himself.”

Katy sighed. “Well, I’ll admit he does pretty well for himself. I badgered him just a bit to hire me on.”

“Really?”

“Maybe more than a bit.”

“Indeed! What a surprise.” Camilla chuckled. “Just what rules did you and Jonah disagree about?”

“All of them! If you’re a woman, you have to do this. If you’re a man you have to do that. And if you step over the line”—Katy
puffed her cheeks out in exasperation—“you’ve gotta pay the price. Hmph! He wants to marry me!”

Camilla grabbed the side of a boulder and braced herself to a stop. One corner of her mouth twitched upward. “Does he really?
How very thoughtless of him!”

Katy had to laugh at the twinkle in Camilla’s brown eyes.

“You don’t like Jonah?” Camilla asked.

“I like him. I like him fine.”

“You don’t love him, then.”

Katy blinked. Her face grew warm. “Maybe I love him.” Images from the night before flashed through her mind. Her body began
to tingle at the memory of Jonah’s touch, the feel of his warm breath on her skin, the infinitely tender care he took of every
part of her. Equally clear were the memories of how easily he laughed, the light in his eyes when he teased her, his dead
serious, no-nonsense determination when he’d stopped her from going into the flood after Maude and insisted on going himself.
“I… I love him,” she admitted cautiously. The revelation was both daunting and unexpected. Jonah wasn’t the sort of man she
had thought to fall in love with. If the truth be known, she hadn’t really expected to fall in love—ever. Katy wondered if
love was curable, like a disease or a rash. “Love can certainly muddle a girl’s mind,” she sighed morosely.

At Patrick’s impatient backward glance, they started down the trail again.

“You’re very right,” Camilla told Katy. “Love does muddle a woman’s mind, and a good thing it is. Elsewise most of us would
never be content with our husbands.”

“Well, I’ll just wait for my mind to clear. I’m going to be independent and make my own rules. I don’t want to follow any
man’s lead. I’ll lead myself, thank you.”