I withdrew several bills from my money pouch and handed them over as Hal’s clerk began carrying the supplies outside.
Noticing my furrowed brow, Flynn laughed. “They’ll deliver everything to my tent. I’ve already got horses waiting for us.”
I followed Flynn outside into the blinding sunlight, but slid and slipped around as I struggled through the mud.
“Yeh’re going to have to pick up the pace, Lass.”
“I’m trying, but my boots are sticking in this dratted, thick mud. I think it’s determined to remove them from my feet.”
“Excuses, excuses.” He laughed.
After walking around one last corner, he yanked me into another crowded tent.
“Well.” Flynn hinted toward tables full of folded and semi-folded clothes, “Do you still have the list?”
I held up the pamphlet and nodded.
“Find the warmest clothes yeh can.”
“Exactly how cold are the winter months here?”
Flynn gently slid the toothpick from his lips and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Well, we could always share a tent and blankets to keep warm. Just a thought. Course, that won’t help yeh during the day.”
My stomach flipped, and I stepped away from his advance and cleared my throat. “The warmest clothes I can find, then.”
He tipped his hat as he nodded and chuckled as I strode off to the piles of clothes.
Hours later, with my arms full of wool sweaters, over-shirts, underwear, mittens, and socks, I laid everything down in the pile I already had of arctic leather and rubber boots, animal fur caps, and animal skin capes.
Flynn topped the pile with extra lacings for the boots and buttons for the shirts—motioning for me to hand over the money.
“It’s quite a lot of supplies.” Breathlessly, I followed him down yet another street toward another store.
“It’s quite the trip up the Klondike.” He winked, then opened up the flap of the third tent and gestured me inside. Shovels, hatches, and axes lined the front wall of the canvas—all of which were added to my earlier purchases, along with a couple of hammers, nails, and a saw.
With one last item to mark off, I inhaled a sharp breath as the storeowner loaded my shiny new revolver.
“I’ll take that,” Flynn gestured as I cringed away.
After handing over another sixty dollars, Flynn and I finally had all the items I needed.
As we strolled out of the last store, Flynn glanced at me a couple of times. He stuck both of his hands in his pockets, and his shoulders hunched with a hint of nervousness.
“I know yeh might prefer to stay in the hotel tonight,” he paused, and his Irish brogue tickled my ear, as well as my heart. “But, it’s probably safer to stay with me again. Yeh can get some sleep, while I pack the horses.”
I tucked my chin to hide my smile. “All right.”
Chapter 11
Unable to sleep, I waited most of the early morning hours wrapped in my blanket and sipping coffee while watching Flynn pack the horses. The tin cup warmed my hands against the cool, dark air as steam drifted with my hot breath. Surely, not the best cup of coffee I’ve ever drank, but appreciated nonetheless.
Moonlight glistened off the muddy street and lit the white canvas tents in a silvery glow. The town was calm, peaceful, even the crowd noise at the saloon had died down, leaving the streets silent for a few blissful hours.
Was it the calm before the storm? The paradise before living an adventure I might not be prepared for? Or a premonition into a world I, perhaps, did belong to after all?
Surely, the last few days haven’t been ideal, but casting aside thoughts of what might be an utterly devastating mistake, seemed hasty. I was still here, still alive, and still on my way to my final destination.
I had survived and succeeded, this far, at least.
I should be proud of that.
“You about ready, Lass?”
“I haven’t finished my coffee yet, and I haven’t eaten breakfast.”
“Days are long on the trail. We eat fast, drink fast, and leave on schedule.” He took the tin cup from my hands, poured the warm liquid into the mud, and handed me back the empty cup along with the handle of a lit lantern. “Best to get used to it quickly or yeh won’t last but a few days.
“How lovely,” I mocked.
“Here yeh are, now.” He held out a few lead lines for the horses.
“What am I supposed to do with these?”
He chuckled. “It’s six miles to Dyea, let’s try to arrive before dinner.”
I jerked the lines from his grip, glaring at him with the foulest look I could muster.
“Oh, this is sure to be a wonderful trip.” He rolled his eyes and cued his horses to walk. His she-wolf, Snow, trotted behind his two horses, her long gait graceful and as silent as a dark, still night.
Glancing between the horses that stood in front of me, I gulped the lump in my throat and took a few steps, trembling as I hesitated and waited for their reaction. Obeying the slight tug on the lines, both horses took a few steps and stopped behind me.
My heart pounded. Even if they seemed calm, they still were thousand pound animals that could crush me. Not to mention, all the belongings I had in this world were packed on their backs.
“Let’s get a move on, Lass,” Flynn shouted.
Glancing at the horses once more, I sighed, and began walking, closing my eyes tight and screaming a little inside my head as the lines drew tight, and the horses followed me.
I can do this. I can do this. They are just horses.
As we traveled through town, the tension eased, and I wedged myself between the two horses’ heads. Neither Flynn nor I spoke a word while walking out of town and down the trail through the forest. Only the sound of horse hooves pounding the ground echoed through the tall pine trees—their deep breaths heavy and labored with the exertion.
Outside of town, Flynn turned off the trail, heading into the thick trees. Without my command, my packhorses followed his, leading me instead of me leading them.
“Why did we leave the trail?” I called out.
Flynn paused and turned to face me. “Best to be out here, away from unwanted followers.”
The image of Ethan flashed in my mind as sincere worry flickered in Flynn’s warm eyes. Chills ran down my spine—paralyzed with the hinted notion of danger.
“Then lead the way.”
The soft moonlit glow upon the trail vanished in the trees, hidden by the many branches. I held my lantern at my waist, unable to hold it above my head for very long before my shoulder trembled so much I worried the flame would extinguish. It lit a few feet in front of me, far enough, at least, for the horses and me to see our way.
The gentle giants seemed unfazed by my anxiety. They walked calmly beside me with their heads lowered, following Flynn’s horses, step for step, through the dense forest. Our pace faster than I cared for, but one needed to reach Dyea on schedule.
My stomach growled in hunger—growing louder with every mile we walked.
As the sun peeked over the mountaintops, light began to shine through the trees, flecking our path. The orange and yellow glow mixed in with the deep greens, dusty browns, and several different shades of stone boulders throughout the forest.
All of the darkened colors around me softened as the sun rose higher in the sky. My breaths became less visible, until finally, they were gone and the cold early morning hours gave way to the afternoon warmth.
Mile after mile, we trudged through thick mud, around fallen trees and large boulders, weaving through a path that didn’t look as though it was meant for anyone to travel.
“The creek is right over that hill. I’ll take the horses for a drink and then build us a fire. Get some breakfast started
so it’s ready to cook when I return.”
Flynn stopped in a tiny clearing and tied his horses to a low tree branch. He withdrew a few supplies from his pack, setting every item gently on a fallen tree trunk, and then grasped the lines for my horses. He threw their lines over their necks and tied the ends.
“They’re a herd and will follow each other,” he laughed, glancing at my confused expression.
Before my mind had a chance to comprehend what he had said, he had untied his horses and disappeared into the trees–leaving me standing alone.
Wait. Did he say to get some breakfast started?
I paced in front of the log, glancing at the items sitting on the bark and tapping my finger against my lip.
What could I possibly make from all of this?
I surveyed the flour, evaporated milk, bacon, and a bag of dried fruit that held a sweet pungent odor.
Frustrated, I sat on the log next to the supplies. Anxiety crawled and inched its way into shame. I was helpless as our cook. Surely, at one point in our journey, Flynn would be made well aware of my shortcomings, but the thought of that day being the first day brought tears to my eyes.
Flynn appeared through the trees, carrying a bucket of water and dragging the tired ponies behind him. Slowly, they stepped through the rough terrain—one slip, one misstep, and surely, a leg would break. He tied them to a few branches near some grass for them to graze and glanced around as he approached me.
“Where’s breakfast?”
I returned his confused stare for a moment and shrugged my shoulders.
“I don’t . . . I don’t . . . know . . . ”
“Are yeh bloody serious?” He half growled, half laughed, under his breath as he walked around the horses, gathering stones and creating a large circle shape, filling the hole in the middle with twigs and fallen pine needles.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Building a fire.”
Of course, he was. How completely and utterly foolish of me.
He lit a match and placed the flame under some of the pine needles. Immediately, a small fire started, burning the needles in a matter of seconds, but barely touching the twigs. He threw more needles on the fire, adding the fuel it needed to increase the flames.
“How is it that yeh don’t know how to cook?” he asked.
Too horrified to look him in the face, I stared at the ground and shook my head.
He placed the pan on the fire and threw a few slices of bacon into it. It sizzled as it hit the heat. The fat rendered right before my eyes, and he flipped the slices a few times, letting the meat crisp.
After scooping a few heaping spoonfuls of flour and pouring in the can of milk into a bowl, he stirred the ingredients into a liquid mush. He removed the bacon, then poured the batter into the pan. It bubbled from the heat and hot bacon fat, while it cooked to a crisp golden brown.
“Do yeh want the fruit in the pancakes or on the side?”
“On the side, please.” I mumbled, kicking a rock with the toe of my boot. “I’m a quick learner, you know. I can learn to cook.”
He nodded, and flipped the pancake before gathering it with a spoon and dumping it onto a tin plate next to the fruit and bacon. He shoved the plate in my direction and nodded for me to take it.
Sitting on the fallen tree next to the fire, I stuck my legs out straight to warm my feet and took a few bites of the pancake. Light and surprisingly fluffy, it was good, with what little ingredients it had. Perhaps, butter or jelly would have eased a little of the blandness, but being cold, tired, and hungry, my stomach certainly didn’t mind, and wrapping a few strips of the bacon with it or taking a bite with some fruit, did help.
“Yeh should take off your boots to warm your feet and dry your socks.” Flynn glanced over his shoulder before scooping his own food in his plate. He sat on the log next to me, shoveling bites of food into his mouth quickly.
I pulled the fork from my mouth and set the plate on the stump next to me. My bootlaces were wet, muddy, and a little tough to untie with my slippery fingers. As I grabbed the heel and yanked the boot off, mud caked the palms of my hands.
“And, how am I supposed to wash my hands, Mr. O’Neill?”
Groaning with annoyance, he clutched his canteen and gestured for my hand. Taking it in his, he scrubbed my palm and fingers, and the touch of his fingers against my skin sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
The fire sparked and popped, sending tiny hot cinders in red and orange flying through the air. They turned black and cold, extinguishing in the muddy, wet dirt as we both finished our meal.
“Is Dyea much farther?” I asked, picking the dirt from under my nails.
“Doesn’t matter, we aren’t staying there.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“We aren’t staying in Dyea. We’re behind schedule and need to cover some more ground before we set up camp.”
“Oh.”
“I sense displeasure.”
“No . . . I just . . . I don’t know.”
“Already exhausted?”
I nodded. We stared at each other in silence for several minutes. His tone of frustration twisted in my stomach. He tried to hide it, but annoyance brewed in his expression.
“Not to be rude, Lass, but how does a woman not know how to cook?”
“I don’t know how to cook because my mother never had me learn.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Growing up in my house, a lady didn’t cook. It wasn’t proper, though I sincerely doubt you would know anything about the meaning of being proper.”
“Proper? Lass, yeh left proper on the boat dock in Tacoma. This is the Klondike, ain’t no proper here accept when yeh bury the dead.” He paused. “Do yeh know how to sew?”
My jaw clenched as I shook my head. “A proper lady doesn’t sew.”
“Do yeh know how to shoot a gun?”
“No, a proper—”
“A proper lady doesn’t shoot a gun,” he mocked. “Did dear mother not allow yeh to do anything? Or is it perhaps, yeh never wanted to?” He yanked my plate from my hand and threw it into the bucket of water with such a force, the bucket nearly knocked over. “Tell me, Miss Colton, do yeh make it a habit of relying on everyone else to do for yeh, then blame them for the messes yeh make in life, or did yeh just start the habit when yeh arrived in Skagway?”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair.”
“You think I don’t know about my handicaps? You think my life has been easy, especially in the last several weeks? You know nothing about me, Mr. O’Neill, nothing at all.”
“No, I don’t, but I got a pretty good idea.”
With his words, the stress that had built up since I left Seattle broke the levy of bottled up emotions.
“My life has been one big lie. My mother cared more about herself than her own daughter. I loathed my father for half my life because of my mother’s lies. Until his death, then I learned the truth.”
“And, what truth was that?”
“That he cared about me. That he loved me. Of course, I can’t speak to him because he’s dead. All these years have passed and I can’t get any of them back.”
I laughed away my tears, wiping my cheeks, and hoping my amusement would ward off any further ranting words—a false hope.
“And then, if all of this isn’t bad enough, I found out that I was never loved by my fiancé like I once believed, but I suppose in the end it didn’t matter because I didn’t love him, either, and I broke off our engagement.”
The words poured from my lips and I was powerless to stop them. Flynn sat in silence.
“I finally have the chance to make my own future, and I won’t have someone take everything away from me.” I gazed at the dying embers.
“I’m sorry I’m not as skilled in the ways of the Klondike as you would like, but it’s a fact I can only change by learning. And, I will learn.”
I pointed my finger in Flynn’s face. “And, yes, I expect you to teach me.”
With smirk on his lips, he nodded and sighed. “He spoke about yeh often, yeh know. Never mentioned details, just that he had a beautiful daughter in Seattle that he loved and missed. We can set up camp at the edge of Dyea and leave the day after tomorrow.”
Chapter 12
Unlike the six miles to Dyea, the six miles to Sheep Camp along the Taiya River were rough—boulders on the verge of tumbling down cliffs, trails laden with fallen logs, and harsh ‘muskeages’, as Flynn called them.
To me they were nothing more than annoying muddy marshes that exhausted the horses, filled my boots with sticky mud, and robbed me of my sanity.
Such conditions forced us along the worn trail traveled by everyone headed north, instead of the unbeaten path that Flynn preferred. Crossing paths with other outfits brought a mix of stress and relief to us both.
Travel that should have taken a day took several, setting us back on time and supplies. We stopped often to let the horses rest so they didn’t collapse and suffer a violent death the way others had. Their bodies lay scattered—littering the trail by the hundreds, having worked so hard that exhaustion took them.
“Yeh might want to cover up your face for the next few miles.”
“Why?”
He nodded toward a dead horse as we passed. “The overwhelming stench of the decayed flesh will cause sickness if yeh not careful.”
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