Jenna Kernan (4 page)

Lily didn’t know which shocked her more, that Nala had sought attention from this stranger or that he had given it without thought. So much for her watchdog. Lily felt Nala’s betrayal like a pinprick in her heart.

She’d seen several men try to approach Nala, hands out, voices soothing, but she had snapped at them all. Lily stared at Jack Snow. What made him different?

He stretched and then cast her that beguiling smile. The man could coax cider from an apple. Lily frowned.

“Must have dozed off.” He glanced about. “Got it all stowed, partner.”

Partner.
She liked the sound of it on his lips. Lily dropped her gaze and pointed to the stove. “I brought supper.”

Jack’s smile broadened. “Excellent. I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.” He thumped Nala on the ribs. “Present company excluded.”

Nala’s tail thudded against the chair back.

What was happening here?

“Eat your supper.”

He drew the plate to his lap and looked about. It was in that instant she realized she had no utensils. So she brought him the large spoon she used to measure coffee and handed it over. His fingers brushed hers and she stilled at the startling sensation running up her arm like the feet of tiny birds.

She backed away, sitting on the bed behind him. He turned his chair so that he faced her but he did not fall upon his food. He must be hungry, yet still he hesitated.

“Go on,” she urged.

He pursed his lips. “You’ve eaten?”

It seemed hours ago. She smiled and nodded. “Yes—eat.”

He waited a moment longer and then attacked the beans and rice as she poured him a cup of coffee, black. When she set it on the stove she found him laying the three strips of thick bacon into the bread,
which he folded in half. He finished the sandwich in five large bites.

“Where did you find Nala?” asked Jack, resting a large hand on her dog’s wide head.

Lily smiled before she answered and for a moment Jack forgot the question. Did she even know how lovely she was?

“When I first laid eyes on her, she was in the jaws of an alley cat that was big as a lion. She was a pup no bigger than this.” Lily indicated a distance of six or seven inches between her palms. “But I chased that cat down and made her drop the pup. She gave me this for my trouble.” Lily pointed to the little puncture below her right eye, the only flaw in her beautiful skin. “Tried to take my eye out. And Nala’s still got the scars on her head where that cat bit into her.” She patted the dog’s ribs affectionately.

Jack scratched the dog’s head feeling the bumps on her scalp.

“I feel them,” he said.

Lily nodded and continued her tale. “I carried her home in the pocket of my coat. Can you imagine? She was so tiny, her eyes weren’t even open. Had to feed her milk from my finger, and it was no small trouble stealing milk each morning, I can tell you.”

Jack frowned at the thought of Lily having to steal milk. He found himself wondering what Lily had endured in her youth and how she had managed to come out so well. True she was guarded, but who
could blame her? Likely she had seen enough of life’s troubles to be streetwise and was apt to be much more astute in that regard than he was.

Nala sat beside his chair, eyes closed as she enjoyed the stove’s heat.

Jack lowered his plate, still sticky with the gravy and a few stray grains of rice, to the floor. Nala needed no second invitation. Her pink tongue lapped the pewter until it seemed spotless.

Lily retrieved the plate and set it aside.

“Was that good?” said Jack to Nala in a friendly tone that made Lily’s stomach flutter.

“She’s not your dog.” Her voice came out harsher than she’d intended.

His eyes rounded. “I’m sorry. I should have asked permission before feeding her. It’s just. Well. I had a black dog once.”

“What kind?”

“Teddy was a chow. When his eyes got cloudy, we just stretched a rope in the back, like a clothesline. He loved to run and knew exactly when to stop. He was a good boy.” His sad, wistful expression made her sorry for her sharp words.

Lily extended her hand and Nala moved to sit beside her cot. “Do you have a tent?”

He nodded.

She tried to turn her mind to business, instead of the crisp, dark, curling hair that showed above the open two buttons of his union suit.

“We’ll need to compare lists of gear to see what we still need and what can be left behind.”

His brow wrinkled as if he couldn’t understand leaving things. Did he even know what was involved in this journey?

“Yes, all right,” he said.

They talked late into the night, her new partner taking notes and making lists of the items they had, needed or would abandon. He was educated, but lacked practicality, as she had feared. She failed to get him to agree to leave the metal behind, nor would he share the utility of this load, except to say it would be “the practical application of a working model” whatever that meant.

She liked that it was practical, at least in his eyes and since she would not be carrying it, she said no more. She shared what she had learned from the Chilkat Indians and he spoke of what he had gleaned from newspapers, maps and geography texts. But in truth, neither of them had seen the trail that would take three to six months to cross, stretching over five hundred miles, first through the narrow gap between great mountains and then down lakes and rivers that became the Yukon River, which would finally carry them to the goldfields in Dawson City.

Exhaustion took hold and they grew silent.

He gazed at the woman who only looked more beautiful by firelight. She was an astute planner, he’d give her that, but that was not why his gaze lingered
on the graceful curve of her neck and the soft wisps of dark hair that caressed her skin.

“Why did you come?” she asked.

Jack snapped his gaze back to hers, shaking from his reverie. He was uncomfortable with the personal question.

“For the same reason as other men. I came to test myself and my ideas.”

She laughed. The musical sound made his palms sweat. He clamped them to the arms of the chair.

“You’re a strange sort, Jack, and the first I’ve come across wanting to test ideas. The rest of them come to get rich. I’ve come for that, too, but I’ve also come for the adventure.”

He leaned forward, drawn by the energetic sparkle in her eyes. Lily’s thinly veiled accent marked her as lower-class Irish. Not the sort of woman he must have to regain his social position. But he didn’t rule out an affair, if she was willing.

She’d be used to hard work, at least.

Once upon a time, he would not have even spoken with someone the likes of her, yet here they were—partners. What would she say if she knew that the only labor he’d done involved rowing on crew and playing for Princeton’s football team? They’d won the national championship last year against Lafayette. He wondered how they were faring this season without him. He thought of his teammates. Many would be graduating without him come spring. He’d been too
ashamed to say goodbye, didn’t want them to know of his family’s ruin, but now that he thought of them he wondered how many others had lost everything when the bottom dropped out of the market. Still, he couldn’t tell them, not even Eric, his roommate and closest friend. He was too humiliated and found it easier to wall away his sorrow. Sins of the father. His chin sank a little closer to his chest as he wished he had Eric along instead of this lovely, resolute little woman. His head nodded forward, surprising him. He snapped upright.

“You have a bedroll?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Stretch it out beside the cot.”

He was wide awake now. He’d never shared a room with a woman, and just thinking of sleeping in the same tent as Lily Delacy Shanahan aroused more than his mind.

“But what will people think?”

“People? You mean the raggedy greenhorns sleeping on the beach or the swindlers in town? Here, men care only for themselves. Plus, I don’t give a fig what they think or what they say. I answer to no one but myself. What you should be worried about is what I think, because if you so much as lay a finger on me in the night, I’ll shoot you through the heart.”

That said, she laid her hand on the grip of her revolver and eyed him. He nodded his understanding, but could not help but notice the quick rise and
fall of her chest. It didn’t match the cool look in her eyes. Something didn’t fit, but he said no more as he retrieved his blanket roll.

“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.

J
ack 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.