At the Mountain's Edge

by Genevieve Graham

  After he’d placed her safely on the wagon bench and taken a spot beside her, she asked, “Where are we going?”

  “To see a friend of mine,” he replied.

  Liza spared one last look at her store, resigned. The place likely wouldn’t survive the rising flood, but at least she’d saved her things, so she could begin again. When that might be she had no idea.

  “Thank you, Constable. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  He turned to face her, and instead of a smile, she saw apology in his eyes. “I’m just glad I could do something this time.”

  Ben

  TWENTY-SIX

  As Ben turned down Princess Street and headed towards the Fairview Hotel, Miss Peterson gave out a cry beside him.

  “I can’t stay in a hotel! Especially not this one!”

  “You’d rather stay in a tent?”

  “If I knew my things were safe, then yes. A tent would be fine,” she insisted. “There’s no way I can afford a hotel room, and there’s even less of a chance I can afford rent for my things. Please, I really would prefer a tent.”

  “I think you’ll like this better.” He reined in the horses, then hopped down from the wagon. “Just wait here a minute.”

  “Oh, really, Constable Turner.” She put a hand over her black eye, as if to hide it. “This is not the place for me. This is—”

  “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  All last night, Ben had thought about how he could best help Miss Peterson. There was no way he could ever make up for all the ways he’d let her down, but fate had given him a chance to do some good, and he knew just the person to enlist in his plan. Belinda Mulrooney, the owner of the Fairview Hotel, was a shrewd business person, but Ben knew she also had a generous soul. Right now, Ben was counting on that part of her personality.

  He knocked on the side door of the Fairview, and within a few seconds it swung open, bringing Ben face to face with the wealthiest woman in the Klondike. Belinda studied Ben through a pair of thick spectacles while Nero—who Ben thought might possibly be the biggest dog in the world—stood panting at her side.

  “May I help you?”

  “Hey, Belinda,” he said.

  Her jaw dropped. “Ben! Why, I hardly recognized you through all that mud. You must have been helping to clear people out downtown. Come in, come in! Let’s clean you up a bit.”

  When Ben had first come to Dawson, he’d been called to Belinda’s glamorous hotel to help her with a guest who refused to pay his bill. Then a few months ago, he and Thompson had put a stop to a party that had gotten out of control there, rescuing Belinda from thousands of dollars’ worth of damage. A week or so after that, he’d done an emergency patch on her roof after her guests were surprised by a complimentary shower during their supper. Since then, he and Belinda had been friends, and she encouraged him to make himself comfortable in her hotel.

  “Actually, I’ve come to ask a favour,” he said, hoping his smile would win her over. Yes, they were friends, but everyone knew that here in Dawson City everything was a business transaction. Even favours.

  “Of course, Ben. You have only to ask. You know I can never resist a handsome policeman.”

  “We got a lot of folks settled,” he said, “but there’s a young woman in the wagon behind me who is in need of a place to stay.”

  Belinda’s eyes went to Miss Peterson. “I see. I’m sure I can arrange—”

  “She doesn’t have enough money for one of your rooms, Belinda.”

  He rubbed the side of his neck and mud peeled off in chunks. Then, as calmly as he could, he explained what had happened the night before between Miss Peterson and Somers. Even now, the thought of that man hitting her made his blood boil.

  “She’s alone out here. Her brother, her parents, and her friend all perished on the trail. But she’s tough, and she’s smart. She figured out how to run a profitable business even in a lousy location. But the truth is she’s coming in from behind and it’s hard for her to get ahead.” He took a breath and played a little to Belinda’s ego. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but she needs a place to stay, and I also thought she might learn a lot from someone like you. With the business, I mean.”

  Belinda’s expression softened. “Bring her in, Ben.”

  He couldn’t help smiling as he returned to the wagon, but Miss Peterson did not share his happiness.

  “I don’t think this is appropriate. I can’t afford—”

  “Do you trust me?” he asked, wanting her to say yes despite everything.

  After a long moment, she nodded.

  “Good. Come with me.”

  Belinda was waiting at the door. “Welcome!”

  “I present Miss Liza Peterson,” Ben said. “Miss Peterson, this is Miss Belinda Mulrooney, the owner of this fine establishment and a friend of mine.”

  “It’s an honour to meet you,” Miss Peterson said timidly, extending a hand.

  Belinda shook her hand, then hung on, pulling her inside. “Come in! Come in, dear! Don’t worry about those boots. I’ll just—” She turned, called out for someone who came running with towels. “Nero! Get out of the way, dog. Yes, yes, I know you must smell everyone, but do let them in first, please.”

  Ben noticed Miss Peterson edging close to the wall, away from the mayhem, and remembered how intimidated he’d felt his first time in the hotel. He’d been reluctant to tread on the plush Persian carpets or touch the smooth mahogany furniture, and he’d stood off to the side, beneath the crystal chandeliers, admiring the gilded frames lining the walls and the oil renderings of nude women within them from a safe distance.

  Belinda must have seen her concern as well. “Miss Peterson,” she said kindly, “I understand your reluctance, but Constable Turner has brought you to the right place. You are safe here, and I will personally see to the storage of your goods until such time as you are ready to resituate.”

  “I’m very grateful for your kindness,” Miss Peterson said softly.

  “It’s my pleasure,” Belinda said. “Now, shall we get you two cleaned up?”

  “Thank you,” Ben replied, “but I have things to do, and I’ll wash up at Herchmer when I can.”

  “Of course. Would you care to join us for supper this evening?”

  “I’d love to.” The prospect of a fine meal at the hotel made the thought of going back out in the rain a little easier to take.

  “Excellent.” Belinda turned, hearing her name called from within, then said, “Wait here a minute, would you? I shall be right back.”

  When she was gone, Ben faced Miss Peterson. “I would not leave you with anyone but Miss Mulrooney. Truly. She has nothing to gain by abusing your trust.”

  She nodded, but he could tell from her expression that she was still apprehensive. She had every right to be after her misplaced trust in Somers, but he knew Belinda would win her over.

  “There’s one more thing,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” He dashed out to the wagon and returned with an envelope, which he handed to her. “Sergeant Thompson got all your money back from Somers.”

  For the first time he saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said. “This is all I have left, besides my stock.”

  “I’ll be sure to pass your thanks along to Sergeant Thompson.” He hesitated. “And Miss Peterson, I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but I’d say you have a whole lot more than that money and your stock.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  It had come to him last night in his sleep. Instead of his usual nightmares, he’d dreamed of the first time they’d met.

  “You’ve got a toughness in you, Miss Peterson.”

  She looked away, but he kept talking, thinking it would do her some good to remember her own strength.

  “I noticed it way back when we met at the summit,” he insisted. “And in my experience sometimes that’s even more important than money. You’ve come out on top after everything that�
��s happened to you. I got a feeling that if you hang on to that, you’ll do just fine. And if you accept a little help from your friends, you might just do better than fine.”

  She sucked in her cheeks as if she was trying not to cry. “Thank you, Constable. I hope you’re right.”

  She still sounded uncertain, but he detected a touch of resolve in her voice. Hang on to that grit and I’ll be there to help, he thought.

  Belinda returned then, and he turned to go, tipping his hat to them both before heading out into the wet streets.

  Liza

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Liza dipped her fingers into the bath to test the temperature—steaming hot—then she climbed in and shivered with bliss as the heat eased the stiffness in her bones. It had been months since she’d had a real bath. Taking a deep breath, she slipped all the way under and delighted in the silent feeling of being completely submerged. When she resurfaced, she took the cake of soap from the ledge and scrubbed her skin and hair as hard as she could, as if she could scrape away all the tragedies of the past few months.

  Once she’d finished, Liza stepped out of the tub, wrapped herself in the luxurious fluffy towel, and went to the mirror—where she stopped and stared. She leaned in, hardly believing it was her own reflection looking back at her. It wasn’t just the bruise that circled her eye, either. This Liza was all angles. Her face had lost its soft edges, her jaw and the ridge of her collarbone were sharp and defined, and lines had gathered at the corners of her eyes from squinting through the wind. Despite the wondrous gift of the bath, she had not been able to clear away the dark rings of exhaustion beneath them. The woman looking back at her was not strong, Liza saw. This woman had lost heart.

  But her body told a different story. As she brushed and braided her hair, Liza noticed a new outline of muscle flexing in her arms. Her back and her legs were similarly defined. Was that what Constable Turner had meant when he’d said she was tough? she wondered, slipping into the clean, emerald-green dress Miss Mulrooney’s maid had laid out for her.

  She was just fastening the last button when the same maid called her for dinner, and when Liza stepped into the corridor she felt like a new person. At the entrance to the dining room, she paused, astonished by the spectacle before her. The room was warm with conversation and laughter, the sterling silver place settings and crystal chandeliers sparkled like stars, and the delicious aroma of roast beef hung in the air.

  “It’s something, isn’t it?” Miss Mulrooney said, coming in beside her.

  “It really is,” Liza breathed.

  As Liza and Miss Mulrooney settled in at their table, Constable Turner appeared in the doorway, though at first Liza didn’t recognize him. He was out of uniform, having traded in his serge for a black coat, his dark hair was swept back, and he had shaved off the short beard she’d seen on him earlier that day. He stood with his hands behind his back, surveying the room until his eyes met hers, then he approached the table.

  “Good evening, ladies,” he said. “I apologize for being late.”

  “We only just arrived ourselves,” Miss Mulrooney assured him. “Have you seen our lovely Miss Peterson? I swear she is reborn after this afternoon’s luxuries.”

  “You’re looking much better,” Turner said, then quickly added, “Not to say you weren’t lovely before, it’s just that—”

  “You’re very kind,” she said, flushing under his gaze. “And you too, Miss Mulrooney. Both of you have been so generous.”

  “Please, I insist that you call me Belinda.”

  “Only if you’ll call me Liza. You too, Constable Turner.”

  “It’s Ben,” he said, looking pleased.

  “Wonderful,” Belinda said. She held up a wine glass, but when the waiter arrived Ben laid a hand over his.

  “Just water for me, please.”

  “You don’t drink?” Liza asked as the waiter poured.

  “Very rarely. It’s part of the job.”

  “Poor Constable Ben,” Belinda teased. “Well, you and I can still toast the evening, can’t we, Liza? To new friends.”

  Liza lifted her glass, thinking how long it had been since she’d held the slender stem of a crystal glass between her fingertips, then she took a sip. “Oh, that’s delicious.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” Belinda said as another waiter appeared, a young boy trailing behind him. “I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered ahead for us.”

  Liza felt tears gather in her eyes as the waiter served each of them a plate of decadent oysters on the half shell. Right behind him, the boy set down their two-pronged oyster forks and filled their glasses with water.

  “What is it?” Belinda asked. “Is there something wrong?”

  “No, nothing’s wrong.” She managed a laugh. “I feel like I’m in a dream. The fanciest food I’ve had in months is tinned meat and potatoes. I had almost forgotten that such luxuries still existed.”

  “You must miss Vancouver,” Ben said softly.

  She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I do, but I’m thankful to have made it here. A lot of people can’t say that.”

  “How long have you been in Dawson City?” Belinda asked.

  “About a month. The journey to get here took much, much longer, of course.” Liza brought an oyster to her lips, then closed her eyes, savouring the smooth taste of the sea. Just enough lemon juice, she thought. Her mother would have loved it.

  “Oh, I do know about that,” Belinda assured her, tossing back an oyster as if it was as common as a glass of water.

  “Belinda got here a year ago,” Ben explained. “She was on her own, too.”

  “I had barely a cent to my name when I arrived, you know.”

  “Really?” Considering all this extravagance, Liza had assumed Belinda had arrived wealthy. “I hope you don’t think me rude, but how did all this happen? You didn’t strike gold, did you?”

  Belinda took a sip of her wine. “In a way, I suppose. But I have always been more of an entrepreneur than a labourer . . .” She trailed off, looking at Ben, who was studying his plate with concern. “Is this your first oyster?”

  He nodded, holding one up. Liza couldn’t help smiling at how his expression softened from caution to interest as he chewed.

  He leaned in to fish for his next one, then seemed to remember what they had been speaking about. “Tell Liza about the World’s Fair in Chicago, Belinda.”

  “You were there?” Liza asked. “My brother read all about it in the newspaper. It sounded spectacular.”

  “Oh, it certainly was. I saw and heard everything,” Belinda said. “But I wasn’t there as a guest. I ran a sandwich bar there, then an ice cream parlour in San Francisco. When that burned down, I took a job as a stewardess for a steamship company, making extra money by selling furs in various ports.” She smiled. “Once you start making money, it becomes quite addictive.”

  The waiters came by again, topping their glasses and replacing their empty plates with steaming salmon smothered in hollandaise sauce, with green peas and a lettuce salad on the side. Beside her, Ben dove into his plate with gusto, but Liza took a small bite, enjoying the rich flavours. Even in Vancouver, a meal this extravagant was a rarity for Liza—how had Belinda brought such class to the Yukon?

  “How did you come to be way up here?” she asked.

  “To a girl like me, the word ‘gold’ is an invitation.” Belinda tilted her head. “I thought about what people might like up here and what they might be missing, then I spent all my money buying up those things and bringing them here to sell.”

  Liza sat a little straighter, thinking of her jewellery cache and the brooms. It gave her a thrill to hear she was on the same track as Belinda. “Like what?”

  “Oh, it feels like so long ago! Let’s see. Silk underwear was popular. Oh, and hot water bottles. People really did want things like that. I made a killing—enough to open a little restaurant, which did well enough, but that made me think about what might do better.” She tappe
d her finger earnestly on the table. “You know who needs to eat? Miners. And unless they are planning a night on the town, they rarely want to leave their claims. So I built a roadhouse out there—a big, two-storey roadhouse at the junction of the Bonanza and El Dorado creeks. Called it—” She held her hands up as if she were framing a sign on a wall. “ ‘The Grand Forks Hotel and Restaurant.’ Miners came from all around when they’d had enough of living in tents.”

  “That’s where Nero’s from, right?” Ben asked. He was leaning back in his seat, his plate scraped clean.

  Liza blinked. “Who?”

  “Her massive dog.”

  “Yes! A miner gave dear Nero to me because he couldn’t keep him while he was working. He said that at the end of the season we’d see which one of us the dog chose. Well, since you’ve seen him, you know that dog has more refined tastes than the miner could offer.”

  Liza laughed along with them, but more out of politeness than joy. Nero’s story reminded her of little Blue, and that was a whole other problem. Clearly Ben had no idea his dog used to be hers. How would he? What he would do if she told him?

  As if he’d felt her gaze, Ben glanced at Liza, and she looked away, embarrassed.

  “I’ll tell you one of the secrets I learned when I was running The Grand Forks,” Belinda was saying.

  “Oh?”

  “Never close your eyes.”

  “Because of thieves?” Liza asked.

  “No, though that can be a problem. What I mean is that when you are in our business, you need to quite literally keep your eyes open for opportunities no one else sees. What I saw at The Grand Forks wasn’t just the money coming in. I saw how the dust on the floor glittered! Gold was practically falling out of the miners’ pockets and rolling off their clothes, then it was being swept into the trash. Can you imagine?” She threw her head back, remembering. “So I had the floor sweepings passed through a sluice every night. I netted almost a hundred dollars every night!”