Jenna Kernan (12 page)

Two men scrambled to the shore, but the others were swept along.

Lily turned her worried eyes on Jack.

“Improper rudder,” he said.

The skiff went next, turning neatly round the bend to the left and out of sight. The canoes went together and then it was their turn.

A
whistle brought Nala into the boat and a few moments later they joined the other vessels pulled downriver by an ever-increasing current.

The river began gently enough. Jack spotted the red flag on the pole and the sign announcing they were in the canyon. He knew before he reached the looming cliffs that the river would be forced to a hard left. Jack also knew from his scouting that there was a reef on the left bank, a mad tangle of logs and rocks, but the cliffs lay to the right with the faster water. Where he placed them was all. He had decided to hug close to the reef to put them in a better central position as they took the next right angle through the canyon. Lily had worked out sign language that mainly involved her pointing to hazards and then waving to clear water. She spied the reef, as sure
as any springer spaniel spotting game, and waved him right, but he took them close then turned the rudder with all he had. The water roared like a maelstrom and pulsed like the heart of a great serpent. He hugged the horse’s mane of white water, shooting out into the canyon. Lily noticed the reef a quarter mile downriver and pointed. The most dangerous part of their journey rushed at him with inhuman speed. The reef further pinched the churning water into five-foot waves.

She motioned to the right and he leaned, fighting the rush of water that tried to snatch the rudder away. The waves beat against the sides and splashed over the deck, knocking Lily down. She righted herself as he held them in position. Just then the boat pitched as if some sea monster had hit them from below. Not a rock, he knew, but the waves, tossing them up and then leaving them airborne an instant before they crashed back to the river.

Lily’s feet left the deck. Jack stared in horror as she seemed to move in slow motion, flying up into the air as if catapulted. She sailed over the side and into the white water.

“Lily,” he howled, but the roar ate his words. He searched the water, but saw nothing.

Nala leapt over the side, disappearing after her mistress.

Jack shot past the reef, hitting the widening river and the slowing water. He leaned over the gunwale,
looking for Lily. Her hat bobbed along, but he could not see her.

“Lily!” He could hear his voice now and the splashing.

He ran to the bow. There they were.

Nala swam nose in the air, thrashing her forelegs at the water. Lily clutched her dog round her thick neck and Jack found he could breathe again.

“I got you.”

Nala changed direction, making for the boat instead of the shore. He reached for an oar and extended it to Lily. She clasped hold of the pole and he dragged her to the side. Jack hauled Lily up first and then the two of them tugged her dog out of the water.

With his girls safe, Jack staggered back. Lily sank down beside him and Jack grasped her, dragging her into his arms.

“I nearly lost you,” he whispered, pressing his cheek to the top of her wet head.

“No, I’m here.”

He closed his eyes at the joy of it. The shock of her fall brought home just how much he needed Lily. She was more than his partner. More than the object of his desire.

“Thank God.”

“And thank my hound.” Lily patted Nala who had already shaken off and lay at her mistress’s feet.

Jack squeezed her tight and kissed her wet, cold
lips, warming them with his own. There was a whooping cry from close beside them.

She drew back and stroked his cheek, pride beaming from her over what they had accomplished together.

Jack pushed his hat back on his head.

“We did it,” he said, grinning at her.

“We sure did.” She held her smile until it became brittle.

He stood and offered his hand, she let him pull her to her feet, then she stepped away. The moment was gone and he’d lost her again.

“Damn, boys, we’ve shot them rapids!”

Lily popped her head over the edge of the hull. He followed her example to see a skiff with two men, one at each oar, drift past them toward the many sandbars to the left of the widening river.

“We made it, Jack. Dawson’s only a hop and skip from here.”

Actually they were yet to reach the halfway mark. But they would be on the river for all of it and the Chilkoot Pass, their first winter and now the White Horse Rapids all lay behind them.

“Damned if we didn’t,” he said.

“I’ve got to change. Go to the back again and don’t come forward unless I call for you.”

He nodded and did as she bid him, knowing what would happen if he didn’t. Since their night together, he had kept his hands off her, but not his mind. He
watched her at the bow, taking in every nuance and each gesture. He watched her by the firelight when she slept. And now, as he knew she was changing, he remembered that day he had seen her there, savoring the memories as a starving man recalls a feast. He had not stopped wanting Lily, had accepted long ago and many miles back that he’d never stop.

Lily did not forget the sight of the fresh graves beyond the White Horse Canyon or the icy bite of the river after she had been pitched in. So she stayed well back as they took Five Fingers Rapids, named for the fingerlike rocks that jutted up from the river. Lily thought the black humps of rock looked like the body of the whale that ate Jonah.

They made it past Big Salmon and Little Salmon, through the community of Sixty Mile, so named for its distance from Fort Yukon. They camped on the river when possible to discourage the mosquitoes that now flew in black clouds on the shore. Jack had rigged a metal-and-brick floor in the boat as a platform for cooking. She set their fires in a metal basin that Jack would use for a wheelbarrow once in Dawson. As daylight stretched to eighteen hours a day and the river grew calm, she suggested they work in shifts, each sailing the boat for six hours and then resting. This brought them to Dawson City on July 4, 1898.

Lily stood beside Jack at the stern as they sailed
the last two miles along the wide river, flanked by green pine on one side and the white-capped mountains of The Dome on the other.

“It’s a fine way to celebrate Independence Day,” said Lily.

“But we’re in Canadian territory,” Jack reminded her.

Lily waved off his observation as she studied the shore. There were many cabins, each with nice piles of dirt just waiting to be sorted.

“What are those? They look like wooden gutters in the stream.” She asked pointing at a series of wooden troughs set beside the tributaries leading out to the river.

“That’s a Long Tom. It’s kind of an extended rocker box. You feed the dirt into the top and then rock it like a cradle. The stream water running through and the rocking washes away the dirt and gravel leaving the heavier material, including the gold, to be trapped in the riffles.”

She stared in wonder at the filthy man who threw shovelful after shovelful into the top of the contraption.

Jack pointed. “At the bottom are small slats of wood that trap the heaviest material and gold is heavier than any other thing out here.”

Lily craned her neck as they sailed on, wishing she could see to the bottom of that trough. Next came a little inlet which held hundreds of logs, just waiting
for the sawmill. Two horses ate hay from a trough made from a canoe and everywhere freshly sawn planks covered half-constructed buildings.

“That’s it. Dawson City,” said Jack as he turned the rudder.

Lily studied the rough collection of structures, looking for the biggest and grandest of them all, for that was where she planned to work.

“We should stay on the boat a few nights,” said Jack, who had become more and more sullen as they neared their destination.

“We’ll see,” she said, not wanting to be alone in the boat with him, knowing they would separate afterward, knowing their parting would make her more apt to forget all the reasons that sleeping with him was such a bad idea.

As it happened, Lily was offered a job the day she set foot in Dawson, singing at the Pavilion, an arrangement that included a shared room at a boarding house and board at one of the hotels. She also rented a five-by-five piece of warehouse space, so Jack could search for a claim on which to try his invention without worrying about his supplies.

She came to the boat when the last of his gear was stowed in the guarded warehouse and handed him a billfold.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s $428.00, your half of what we earned since we partnered up.” She extended the money, waiting.

“Thank you, partner.”

She held on to the wallet a moment too long.

“You won’t go spending it in the gambling halls, will you?”

“I’m a Baptist, Lily.”

“What has that to do with squandering money?”

“We don’t drink and we don’t gamble.”

“Are you funning me?”

He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

“I never heard of a man not drinking or gambling.” She glanced about. “I hope there aren’t too many other Baptists around here.”

“I wouldn’t worry.”

She returned her attention to him. “Will you come see my first show? Just for luck?”

Jack shook his head, feeling the ache already gripping his heart. Their parting had come.

“I’m heading up Bonanza Creek. I hear there is a claim or two for sale there that’s played out. Might be able to buy it now.” He held up the wallet.

Lily toyed with the lace collar of her best blouse. “The owner of the Pavilion says all the good claims were gone before the fall and all that’s left is grubstakes, working for those that own the claims.”

He patted her cheek. “Don’t worry, Lily. I’ll not starve.”

She clasped his hand and held it to her cheek, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, they glistened. At first he thought it was her
frequent temper, but then he realized it was tears. Lily was close to crying.

Her voice broke and she tried a second time to speak. “Well, if you do come back, come to the Pavilion. I haven’t forgotten my promise to look out for you all I can.”

She released his hand and they stood suddenly awkward in the street. They had been through so much and he had grown to care for her.

“A hauler offered me five hundred dollars for Nala. I turned him down.” She looked worried. “I’ve a favor to ask, Jack. I don’t want her stolen while I’m working. Will you take her for a while? They won’t let me keep her at the boarding house and she likes you.”

“I’d be glad to have her.”

“Don’t sell her.”

“Never. And I’ll bring her to see you when I’m in town for supplies.”

He felt the time between them slipping away.

Had she given him Nala to protect her dog or to insure she would see him again? He stared at her lovely face and wondered why he could not think of anything important to say.

“You were a good partner, Lily.”

She smiled, but then her chin trembled and he thought he’d said the wrong thing again.

“I never had much luck with men, Jack. Hard to trust them, you know. But you kept your word. And
I thank you. And I’ll not say goodbye, for you’re coming to see me with Nala. Promise.”

He nodded, finding a lump in his throat prevented him speaking. Once he had wanted to be rid of her and now that he was, he found he was not ready to let her go. He hoped she’d kiss him, but she didn’t.

Lily hugged him, pressing her lovely face into his dirty coat. He stroked her hair and lowered his chin to breathe in her fragrance once more. Then she pulled back and called Nala. The hound came, but her tail was down and she looked to her mistress.

“Go on, Nala.” Lily motioned her away.

Jack turned and headed for the river. He couldn’t look back, because if he did he’d do something foolish. Nala somehow sensed that Lily would not be coming with them and she whined anxiously.

Jack felt his shoulders sag. The weight of the journey, the sorrow of their parting and the uncertainty of his future all preyed upon him.

Would his invention even work?

L
ily could not have asked for a better start. Before the week was up she was the object of a war between the Pavilion and the Forks. The Forks had a piano, but the Pavilion offered her a better wage. After hearing her sing, the owner of the Pavilion, Donald Trost, was determined not to lose her. He was stocky, with a ruddy complexion and a nose for business. They were much alike in that and she enjoyed negotiating with a man who knew how it was done. He managed to get her exclusively and for six nights a week, with a second show on Saturday nights. In return she arranged to receive a small percentage of the house, plus she did not have to drink with the customers or dance with them. The large hall had a stage where she performed nightly, with the exception of Sundays, when the Mounties shut down all
such establishments. They also forbade the carrying of firearms and kept the stampeders in tight check. Because of them, Dawson City was far safer and more orderly than San Francisco had been.

The Pavilion was just a sawboard hall, rough-hewn and still smelling of sawdust, but the stage was wide with kerosene lamps all along the edge and a real curtain. She had high hopes that there would be a grand hotel next year with painted walls and a fine chandelier. Goods would be arriving soon by ferry.

Lily planned to stay as long as the gold, longer perhaps, for she loved it here. The men and women she met all shared her thirst for adventure and impressed her daily with their toughness. And if that were not enough to recommend this territory, the scenery was like none she’d ever imagined, and it was populated by such wondrous creatures. She’d seen a moose with two calves on the bank at Forty Mile.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to make a life in the north and grow with the territory? There was hope here and people willing to work hard to succeed—all kinds of people from all over the country and the world. It baffled and thrilled her.

Her first Saturday night was standing-room only. When the Mounties threatened to shut them down, Trost limited the number of entrants, which allowed the barmaids to get through the mob to bring them beer.

It was on the second Saturday that the first greenhorn threw a small sack of gold dust at her feet. For that she blew him a kiss. It was not the first bag or the first kiss.

Her only regret was that Jack did not come. Three weeks already and she had not seen him or her dog. She wanted him to hear her sing and see how the men cheered and stomped their feet. Somehow it mattered to her that he witnessed her success.

Lily had to admit that she had entertained worries that Jack would become like the men her mother had brought home as soon as they reached Dawson, using her for the warm bed, free food and pocket money she could provide. But it seemed the opposite was true. He didn’t need her for anything and that troubled her more than she had thought possible, for she still needed him.

The little tailor had arrived, hat in hand, but he reported having had to hock his scissors in order to eat. Lily went with him to retrieve them and then buy fabric. She allowed him to use her room when she was on the stage. Within the week, Luritz had made her two new dresses. One was pale pink with a tight bodice of satin and a frothy full skirt. The color complemented her pale skin and made her cheeks look rosy. The second was a heavy black velvet gown that matched her hair. During the final fitting, her tailor’s stomach gave a loud growl.

She eyed him suspiciously. “When did you last eat, Mr. Luritz?”

He hung his head. “I can’t find a mine owner to take me. Too little and too old, they say. But I wasn’t too little to climb those mountains.”

Jack had been right—all profitable claims were staked, leaving the newcomers without hope of mining their own land. Mine owners had their pick of the thousands that poured in from the lakes. Here, as back there, men had no work.

She’d never been in a situation where she had plenty while others went without, and she found she didn’t like it. She might not be able to feed them all, but she could feed this man. Lily went to her dresser, brought back the remains of her unfinished breakfast that held thinly sliced toast and strawberry jam and offered it to her tailor.

“Here, Mr. Luritz.”

His face colored, but he took it and ate it with a frightening speed. She remembered what it was to be that hungry. It devoured a person’s pride.

“Mr. Luritz, I have need of another outfit.” Two was actually more than she’d ever had or needed, but she had the gold and he needed it. “Not for the stage. A skirt with matching jacket. Are you up to the task?”

“Yes, yes.”

“You’re hired. Come back tomorrow morning at
nine. We’ll have breakfast together and then go get the fabric.”

He tipped his hat, showing the second strange circular hat beneath. “You’re a good lady, Miss Lily.”

Then he left her. She watched him out the window as he crossed the street, wearing no gloves. Had he lost them on the journey or sold them?

That afternoon she went to buy men’s gloves. While she was out she spoke to every woman she could find about what a job Luritz had done on her gowns. Dolly Isles and Felicity Volmer, who both boarded at the same hotel, asked her to have him come round to see them, for the women in Dawson found no shortage of opportunities to earn a living.

Just before showtime, she tracked down Donald Trost, finding him in his office and asked him for the use of the smaller storeroom behind the stage.

He didn’t even glance up from his ledger. “For what?”

“A tailor shop.”

“I’m using it.”

“The tailor will pay you eight percent of his profits for rent. You’ll make money, Donny.”

“I like when you call me Donny.” He was on his feet now, smiling at her. It seemed an expression he had not much experience with. “All right, then.”

Lately she’d found him staring at her more and more, and not in the way a man looks at his cash cow. It made her wary.

He dropped the pencil and slapped the account book closed, then stood and tugged on his vest. He stepped out from around his desk, leaning back against the edge and held out a hand. She didn’t want to take it. He was too damned big and experience had told her to stay clear of a man’s reach. But he’d never threatened her, so she pushed back her uncertainty and accepted his hand.

“You know I’m fond of you, Lily. Very fond.” He lifted her hand to his lips. His mouth was dry and his cheek as coarse as sandpaper.

She resisted the urge to tug free. Out in the hall, the fiddler began tuning with a familiar plucking. Trost couldn’t keep her long. It would be bad for business.

“I’ve been thinking about you. We’d make a good team, you and I. I’d like to start seeing you, Lily. What say you to that?”

She knew this game. You didn’t need to pay a wife a salary, for she had to work for free and she could not quit. Lily was certain Trost would like that situation, while she would not. Now, how to stall him indefinitely and still keep her job?

She retrieved her hand. “I think that if I’m not on that stage for the opening number my boss will fire me.”

He laughed at that and she made it to the door.

“Running won’t help, Lily. I’m a determined man.”

That last comment sounded more threat than promise.

The fiddler began and she stepped to the center stage, waiting for the workmen to draw back the curtain. Her performance went on without a hitch. The curtain was drawn and she stooped to collect the two small bags of gold dust thrown by admirers, tucking them in her bodice.

A frantic barking caused her to turn toward the stairs. Her dog pushed through the curtain, nose down as she followed Lily’s scent.

“Nala!”

Her dog lifted her head and spotted Lily, then began a wild yipping and twisting.

Lily stooped to rub the dog’s belly and stroke her head. Nala righted herself and rested her head on Lily’s shoulder.

“Oh, Nala, I’ve missed you,” she whispered as she hugged her dog.

“Still feed her once a day, all she can eat.”

She glanced up at the familiar voice to see Jack, now clean-shaven and looking tall and handsome with a new confidence that seemed to surround him like a halo. Her heart rate surged and before she knew it she was lunging toward him. He scooped her up in his arms and turned her in a wide, sweeping circle.

“Oh, Jack, you terrible man. Where have you been?”

He laughed and set her down.

“Working—though I’ll say you seem to be better at extracting gold than I am.” He laughed and the sound warmed her inside and out.

“Did you hear me sing?” She could not keep the excitement from her voice.

“You’re like an angel. They’re all in love with you.”

All but him, she thought, and was unsettled at the pang of regret.

She took a good long look at him, filling herself with the pleasure of being beside him again, then taking in the changes. He looked thin and tired.

“Have you eaten?”

“You going to make me some of your biscuits and bacon?”

“I can do better than that.” She drew out one of the bags of dust and dangled it before him like a watch on a chain. “I’ll buy us both a steak.”

He grinned. “Sharing supper, just like old times.”

“It was less than a month ago, Jack.”

He nodded. “Seems longer.”

She felt a tugging at her heart. It was that way for her, too. Had he missed her? She prayed so, for it would be such agony to be alone in her torment.

She linked arms with him and led him out, stopping for the wolf skin cloak she’d purchased. At the restaurant she paid for three dinners, so Nala could have salmon and rice. Nala finished first, of course.

Over dinner Lily learned Jack had a claim that had panned out for the last miner, but that he was digging in, following what he thought was a promising old stream bed. The deal included a rough cabin, but he’d had little time to make improvements.

“My machine’s up and running and it works, Lily. I only need to engage investors and then I can produce and sell the machines to the mine owners.”

“It works?”

“Better than I had hoped. I’d love to show it to you, Lily. I want you to see what I’ve done.”

The excitement in his voice warmed her heart nearly as much as the knowledge that her opinion still mattered to him.

She reached across the table to lay her hand upon his. “I’m so proud of you.”

A moment later he had hers captured between both of his hands. “You haven’t even seen it yet.”

“I know you, Jack. If anyone can build a gold-digging machine, it’s you.”

His thumb stroked over the skin on the back of her hand. Her reaction to the tiny caress struck her with a force that caused her to inhale sharply. She felt her stomach tighten and her skin flush. Lily drew her hand away before she did something or said something that would embarrass them both. His absence had been hard on her, so hard that she’d nearly forgotten his plans to make his fortune and leave her behind.

“I have a canoe,” he said. “We can make it in less than an hour.”

Say no, Lily. Tell him you have plans. Tell him that you’ve moved on.
But what she heard herself say was, “I’m off tomorrow.”

He grinned. “I’ll pick you up for breakfast. Dress in your old clothes.”

“I still have them.”

He walked her to her door and waited. She wondered what he’d do if she kissed him goodbye? The possibility started her heart on a mad thumping that made her positively dizzy. Try as she might, she could not keep from casting glances at his mouth as she recalled their night together.

There were men everywhere here and yet she could think of only one, one that didn’t want her. And
that
made her a damn fool.

He paused before a door that led up the back stairs to her room.

“I can’t wait for you to see my system. I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight. Of all the stampeders in Dawson, you’re the one whose opinion I value. If you think I’ve got something, I know I do.”

Was her opinion all he wanted from her? She had so much more she could give him. But no matter what she did or how successful she was here, she couldn’t turn herself into the kind of woman he sought.

“I swear if you’d been at my father’s side you’d never have let him invest in those railroad stocks.”

She wanted to be by Jack’s side. She lowered her head, plucking aimlessly at the rabbit fur of her muff.

He clasped her chin between his thumb and index finger, lifting her gaze to meet his. “Thank you for the meal.”

She held her breath, hoping he would kiss her again. She knew she was a fool, but she didn’t care. She wanted to feel his lips again, inhale the fragrance of wood shavings and smoke and tangle her fingers in his thick hair.

She leaned in, kissing his cheek as he did the same. She closed her eyes against the bitter disappointment. Didn’t he want to kiss her?

“Lily?” The voice came from behind her.

She broke away from Jack and turned to see Don Trost scowling at the two of them.

Her boss stood in the evening sunshine, his posture erect, his fists clenched. Jack, by contrast, leaned casually against the door frame, scratching Nala behind the ears.

“Jack Snow, this is Don Trost, owner of the Pavilion.”

Jack wisely decided to nod rather than shake. Don continued to scowl. Lily’s caution turned to annoyance.

“Was there something you wanted?” she asked Don.

“I couldn’t find you after the show. Alexander said you stepped out with a greenhorn.”

Lily tapped her foot. “And?”

Don glared at Jack then turned his attention back to Lily. “You never accept invitations from the men. I was worried.”

Some of her ire melted, until she began to question his motives.

“Jack’s my old partner. We were just…catching up.”

Don had seen them kiss, but he had no claim on her. She hadn’t even agreed to see him. Still he had a murderous glint in his eye. Lily had witnessed enough street fights to recognize when one was brewing.

She waited for him to decide if he would fight Jack. The two were evenly matched in size, and she knew that despite the ban on firearms, Don carried a small pistol in his pocket. She’d seen him in action and knew he didn’t fight fair. Jack likely would follow some Princeton code of sportsmanship and get himself shot.