September's Dream (18 page)

"Billy." September gently shook the huddled form in the corner of the kitchen. "Billy, wake up. I want to say goodbye."

Sleepy eyes, uncomprehending at first, blinked against the harsh lantern light. Suddenly the boy sat up, feeling the terrible impact of her words.

"Don’t go, September. This is the craziest scheme you’ve had yet. Stay here with me. We’re making enough to get by. I’ll get another job. We’ll stay together. You and me." His protest faded.

They’d been through all this before. When Billy had realized what she was doing, he’d begged and pleaded, to no avail.

"No more words, Billy. Just kiss me goodbye and wish me luck."

September lightly dropped her hands to his shoulders and brushed her lips across his cheek. "You’re more than a friend, Billy. You’re the brother I never had. You stay here with Aggie and work hard to make something of yourself. And when I come back the daughter of a rich miner, I’ll take you home with me.

His voice cracked with emotion. "I’m too old for fairy tales, September. If you go, I’ll never see you again."

She swallowed down the lump that threatened to choke her. Gently she touched his cheek. "I can’t stay and argue with you. It’s almost dawn. If I’m not there on time, Jase Conroy will leave without me. Goodbye, Billy. Stay well."

She turned, and was startled to see a shadow in the doorway. "Aggie. I didn’t want to disturb you."

"You didn’t think you could leave without saying our goodbyes, did you?"

"I thought we said them last night."

"Here." The big woman thrust a rifle into September’s hands.

"Aggie. What would I do with this?"

"Keep it around in case of trouble. It belonged to my father. He claimed he could bring down a Kodiak with a single shot."

"I wouldn’t know how to use it."

"Ask Jason to teach you. Never know when it’ll come in handy."

September felt the lump growing in her throat. This woman and boy had become like her family. She gave Aggie an awkward hug.

"Thanks, Aggie. For everything. See that Billy stays out of mischief."

She wiped a tear which threatened, and hurried out into the darkness. Aggie and Billy stood apart, watching through the kitchen windows. Already, September seemed like someone else, some stranger who had touched them briefly, then departed. In her fur leggings and parka, moving quickly through the early morning stillness, she seemed a part of this wild, primitive land.

*  *  *

Before she arrived at the cabin, September could hear the yammering and yowling of the dogs, eager for the adventure. In the predawn darkness, even the cabin was indistinguishable from the trees and hills around it. During the night the temperature had dropped to the twenties. A heavy snow blanketed everything, softening the shapes of tree stumps and half-hidden boulders. September was grateful for the fur next to her skin, and the knee-high moccasins, which were so much more comfortable than her stiff, high-top shoes.

She was glad that Jase had notified Jacob Mueller that he would pick up the additional supplies last night. She wouldn’t have wanted to strap a pack to her back on this predawn trek. And she was afraid to show her face in town. She had already had a taste of Snake’s vengeance.

As she approached the cabin door, she could hear Jase harnessing the dogs, cursing at them in soft, almost loving tones.

When he spotted her he frowned.

"It warms my heart to see how happy you are to see me."

"I kept hoping you’d come to your senses." He noticed the rifle in her hands. "Know how to use that?"

"No. I’ve never even held one before. Aggie Whelan gave it to me. It was her father’s. She thought maybe you’d teach me how to shoot."

He shrugged. "Tie it on the sled. I’ll look at it later. Got any ammunition?"

She held out a small pouch. "Aggie said that’s all she had."

He nodded. "Good. If you want coffee, there’s some left. We’ll be heading out in a few minutes."

September lashed the rifle to the sled, then let herself into Jase’s cabin. The fire had burned down to red coals. The coffee in the blackened pot hissed and bubbled.

Why, she wondered, would Jase Conroy leave the comfort of this place to travel to the Yukon? He didn’t look like the type who would hunt for gold.

The cabin door slammed inward as Jase entered. The force of the wind nearly whipped it from his hand. Without a word he walked to the fireplace and poured the last of the coffee into a tin cup. In two gulps, he downed the drink, then thrust the cup into a knapsack, along with several pots and a skillet.

He doused the hot coals with a bucket of water, then gave a last glance around the snug cabin.

As September walked to the door, his voice stopped her. "This is your last chance, September Malloy. Once we leave here, there’s no turning back. If you choose to go with me, these are the rules. I’m in charge. When I tell you to do something, do it immediately, without question. Is that understood?"

Her eyes blazed. "Nobody bosses me."

"There can be only one person in charge on a journey like this. And it’s me. Either you accept that, or stay home. The order I give may save your life—or mine."

She clamped her mouth shut.

"If you get hurt along the way, I’ll find someplace to leave you. I won’t be tied down with an injured woman on my hands. And if you can’t keep up, I’ll go on without you, even if that means leaving you to the wolves. Do you understand me?"

He watched her fight to control the temper which flamed.

"And one last thing. I realize you won’t be of much use on this trip, but at least you can stay out of the way. I don’t want to have to listen to some whining female tell me she’s cold, or hungry, or tired. We’ll stop when I say, and we’ll leave when I say. Do you have all that?"

She flung open the cabin door. Over her shoulder she spat, "Go to hell, Jason Conroy."

She slammed the door so hard, the sound reverberated through the little cabin. With a grim look, Jase picked up the pack and locked the cabin door.

When the supplies were secured, he covered them with several layers of fur pelts. Grasping the handles of the sled, Jase stood on the back runners. With a flick of the whip, the team bounded forward. Behind them, September did her best to keep up.

*  *  *

"White Pass." Jase pointed to the trail which rose up before them.

"It’s beautiful."

"It may be heaven to look at," he muttered, "but it’s hell to negotiate."

September stared at the forbidding mountain of white.

"It’s eighteen miles to the summit. We have to get over it before nightfall."

"Why?"

"It’s solid with ice and wracked with storms this time of year." He pointed to the leaden sky. "If we get hit with another storm, it will be impassable for days. It’s now or never."

"Why have we stopped here?"

"We’re leaving U.S. control. The Canadian Mounties stop everyone here to make certain they have the proper supplies."

"You mean they turn people back?"

"They try, hoping to save a few lives. Most people won’t listen to them though. They’ll find a way to sneak past without enough gear. They’re overcome with gold fever."

September stood with the team and watched as two members of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, handsome in their scarlet uniforms, spoke briefly to Jase. From this distance she sensed that they treated him with great deference. In Skagway, everyone knew Snake Rawlins had the law in his pocket. Was that true of Jase on this side of the border? Who was Jase Conroy? And what was he doing in Alaska?

Within a few minutes he returned. He touched the whip and the dogs bounded ahead. Behind them, September fought to keep her footing on the treacherous trail.

Earlier, Jase had showed her how to cover her face with a square of wool, tucked inside the hood of her parka. Her hands were encased in fur-fined mittens.

In Mueller’s Store, she had watched some of the prospectors buying rubber boots and flannel shirts. How could they possibly survive this weather with such flimsy clothing? Someone had scoffed at her native clothing, suggesting that she looked like an Eskimo. Now, braving the cold of this mountain pass, she was grateful for Jase’s knowledge.

She still smarted at his heavy-handed attitude. He was a bully, refusing to slow down for even a few minutes. Although she had a stitch in her side and her breath burned in her lungs, she refused to let him see her discomfort. She would keep up with Jase Conroy if it killed her.

As they started up White Pass, she saw wagons half buried in the snow. She counted six horses lying at crazy angles, their nostrils wide, their eyes frozen in a wild-eyed frenzy.

She passed miners, their supplies spilled along the trail, their heads propped in their hands in an attitude of despair.

As Jase and the team maneuvered around a broken wagon, she stared at a woman crying in the snow, clinging to a china teapot. The woman’s thin coat flapped open, revealing a fine organdy dress and dainty pearls.

As she walked by, the woman held out the teapot. "It’s real china," she moaned. "It’s yours, for your boots. I’ll even throw in my jewelry."

September glanced at Jase’s stiff figure far ahead and ran to catch up. The glassy-eyed look in the woman’s eyes frightened her. What did this land do to people? Would she look like that in a few days, or weeks? She slipped on a patch of ice and fell, sliding backward for several yards before she managed to grasp a wagon wheel and stop herself.

Ahead of her, Jase and the team seemed to be moving even faster. Scrambling frantically to get her footing, she lunged forward, nearly running to keep them in her line of vision.

All along the trail they passed animals bellowing in fear and pain and people who seemed to have sunk to the depths of despair. September had expected White Pass to be a pristine trail cut through wilderness mountains. Instead, it was littered with people and their discarded possessions. Animals were dying, with no one willing to waste the ammunition to put them out of their misery. Wagons filled with the accumulations of entire families were left to rot in the snow. People sat in snowbanks, sobbing uncontrollably, as their dreams lay shattered at their feet. Behind them was scattered an entire lifetime uprooted for a dream of quick riches. In front of them stretched only more snow and cold and a vast, frozen wasteland, which would test them to the limits and, in the end, defeat them.

Snowflakes stung September’s eyes, and she realized that she was sprawled on her back. She had missed her step and fallen, nearly sliding under Jase’s feet. He sidestepped, then stopped and offered her a hand.

For a moment she only stared at the fur-covered hand. Then, extending her palm to him, she was lifted as easily as if she were a child. He stared down into her face, seeing the flash of blue eyes, the pink of her cheeks against her pale skin. Annoyed at the rush of feelings he experienced, he turned and moved on, leaving her to stare at his retreating back.

All day they hoped for the sun to lighten their moods. But it eluded them, hiding behind a sullen sky. By late afternoon, the sky was as dark as evening, and more snow was falling.

The dogs were silent, straining against the harness, heaving the resisting sled around boulders and over drifts, their breath a gray plume in the frosty air.

The steep incline gradually leveled, until Jase and September could turn and look down on the perilous mountain pass they had climbed.

"We’ve reached the summit."

September sank to her knees, too exhausted even to speak.

"We’ll make camp. But first, I’ll feed the dogs. They’ve earned it."

Quickly, Jase unharnessed the team and tossed enormous chunks of raw meat to the dogs, who barked and snarled as each one fought for a position of importance.

While the dogs ate, Jase searched the area until he found a stand of low evergreens. Inside their enclosure, protected from the elements, he stretched the animal hides, spreading several more on the ground inside the tent.

"The dogs will want to sleep outside tonight. Unless we get a blizzard, they prefer the open air. They’ll burrow down under the snow and be as snug as any creature of the wild."

He glanced at September, who merely sat in the snow, too weary to reply. "Why don’t you crawl inside and wait until I’ve caught our dinner? We’ll eat within the hour."

She nodded, feeling her stomach complain about the lack of food.

Inside the tent, Jase had started a fire with wood chips. Around the fire were boulders, which reflected the heat, warming the inside of the tent. September opened her parka and slid off the moccasins, wiggling her toes. It felt surprisingly snug being surrounded by animal fur.

She wondered what Jase would catch for their dinner. It didn’t matter. She could eat raw meat at this point. She lay down on a pile of pelts, burrowing down into their softness. It felt so good to be through for the day. She couldn’t have walked another step.

It was so warm. She shrugged out of her parka, then slid off the fur-lined leggings. Wearing only a fine cotton chemise, she wrapped herself in a fur robe and closed her eyes. She wouldn’t sleep. She would just rest for a moment and listen to the soft sounds of the night closing in.