At the Rainbow's End

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At the Rainbow's End Page 12

by Jo Ann Ferguson


  When he caught her looking at him, she did not lower her eyes. Many times he had admired her openly. Why not let him discover how it felt to have someone watch his every move?

  Without saying anything, he held out his hand. She smiled shyly as she put hers in it. His grip tightened when her boots slipped on the rocks along the sharp incline leading west from their claim.

  Silent, they walked through the trees along the river-bank. The clank of the machinery on the bench claim overlooking the river across from Fourteen Above was muted by the distance. In the shadows, the insects were fewer. She raised her veiling and pushed it back across the brim of her hat. It felt heavenly to breathe the untainted air.

  At the top of the ridge, they paused. She turned to enjoy the view of the valley below them. All along the river, tiny forms sought the nearly impossible dream. Their sluices mocked the mighty trees clinging to the hillsides. In the distance she could see the twisting of the Bonanza in its journey from where it met the Eldorado. The sun glittered with eye-burning power on the ripples of the current.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said softly.

  “It was once. I hope taking the gold from the hills doesn’t permanently destroy what was here when we arrived.” He continued to gaze across the river valley. “We two were among the first. I wondered then how many others had trod this land before us. No more than I could count on my hand. Then the Klondike belonged to the moose, and those hardy enough to love its rigors.”

  She was not sure what to say, moved that his thoughts echoed hers, and not as surprised as she would have been weeks ago. She sat on a fallen tree, the bark cool and damp beneath her. It crumbled in a fine powder as she ran her hand along the trunk.

  When he turned to look at her, a grin teased his mustache up at the corners. “Why did you dump the stew on me?”

  She smiled, her eyes sparkling as brightly as the sunlight on the water. “Because you deserved it.”

  “Why? For jesting about a lad who has yet to have his first woman, and can’t keep from slobbering over you like a bull calf in rut?”

  “No, because I don’t like to see you being so mean and jealous.”

  “Jealous?” he exploded. Picking up a rock, he flung it into the water.

  Samantha gasped, “You told me never to do that! What if it had gold quartz in it?”

  He shrugged, sheepish. “So the folks at Fourteen will find it when they sluice in the morning, or we will dig it out later. Don’t change the subject.”

  As he sat on a stump by the side of the rushing river, she said, “Do continue, Mr. Gilchrist. By all means, continue. I’ll be delighted to see what lies you can concoct to deny that you are jealous whenever I talk to another man.”

  Joel paused. She was right. Any denial would be false. The base emotion he had not wanted to experience in the cabin last evening was pure possessiveness. Although he knew he envied Kevin, he had not faced how much he hated to see her flirting harmlessly with their neighbors.

  He wanted Samantha. He wanted her to be his alone.

  Smiling, she saw his conflict written on his face. Her smile faded when his hand stroked her cheek. Although his roughened skin was harsh, his gentle caress created a flow of warmth at her center.

  “Sam, you know how I feel about you,” he said softly.

  “I know.” She sighed. “I do know. But I know nothing about Joel Gilchrist.”

  He did not meet her eyes. “There’s little to know.”

  “You’ve lived thirty years, Joel—” Sitting forward, she urged, “What are you running from?”

  He started at her perceptive words. They flayed open wounds he wanted to keep hidden forever. He took a deep breath of fragrant pine. Then, looking into her dark eyes, he knew he could tell her what he had told no one else.

  “The past,” he murmured. “The past and its ghosts.”

  “Can you talk about it?”

  Putting his hands on her arms, Joel wondered how he could have suggested Samantha had lied to them in her letters. Honesty was as much a part of her as the soft lips he longed to taste, and the compassion, which she offered to him now.

  “Yes, I think I can.” His gaze grew distant, as if scenes from the past had appeared before him. “I dreamed of becoming a professional musician. A symphonic violinist. For years I studied with music professors in Virginia, often traveling many miles to find the best. I planned to leave Lynchburg when I was eighteen, go to Europe and study with the best orchestral performers in the world.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  He smiled sadly when he heard the sympathy in her voice. “No, I didn’t. Instead I listened to the lure of another siren. Her call was so strong it drowned out my dreams.”

  Samantha understood what he could not bring himself to say. To be fooled by love must have been devastating to strong, singleminded Joel. Had he risked everything on it and lost, to be set adrift without one thing which had given meaning to his life?

  “Maybe she didn’t realize what she did.”

  “How do you know about her? You see parts of me no one else has guessed at. But you’re wrong about Camilla. She knew exactly what she was doing. She was all seduction when she thought I would inherit vast sums from my father’s estate. When she discovered how mortgaged the estate was, she wasted no time marrying another man. One who could give her the money she was so sure she needed. One I had considered my best friend.”

  She ached for him, wondering how many years these wounds had festered. Joel wanted everyone to think he was just a carefree adventurer, determined to conquer the Yukon.

  “I’m so sorry, Joel.”

  “Are you?” he demanded with sudden heat. “You are planning to leave us.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this situation isn’t what I expected. I knew this country would be rough, and I was prepared for that.” She flung out her arms to encompass the trees and the mountains. “But I didn’t anticipate finding two men here.”

  He smiled at her. “Two men who want to marry you.” He ran a finger along her arm. “Even if there were one hundred women for every man instead of the other way around, I think I would have chosen you, Sam. You make me feel alive, after a decade of just stumbling through each day.”

  Pushing aside his hand, tense, she moved slightly away from him. “Thank you.”

  “But the compliment isn’t returned.”

  “You have lied to me from the beginning,” she said softly.

  “But you came.”

  She smiled with a sorrow which matched his. “I fell in love with a man who offered me a chance to share his dream.”

  “We invented very little when we wrote to you. We wrote what was in our hearts.” His hand stroked her cheek. “Sam, how could anyone not want you?”

  Her eyes were held by the azure glow of his. Slowly her hand rose to the coarse surface of his face in an identical, testing touch. The light in his eyes burned a richer shade.

  She laughed with a sensual throatiness which set his blood soaring through his head like the pounding of a spring floodtide along the river. “Give me time,” she said, “I’m still confused.”

  “Will this help?”

  Her reply was muted by the gentle pressure of his lips on hers. This was the happiness she had longed for all year as she wrote to Fifteen Above. When he drew slightly away from her, she moaned in heartfelt regret.

  The sound was the only invitation he needed. He drew her to her feet and into his arms. Releasing the passion he had dammed on the first kiss, he captured her mouth again. His arms tightened around her. He wanted to feel every inch of her pliant form.

  At first tentatively, then with more assurance, she stroked the broad plane of his back. Warmth spiraled through her as she exulted in the rapture created by his lips over hers. She stepped deeper into his embrace, wanting to feel all of him against her.

  A gasp of pleasure escaped her parted lips as his mouth left them to caress the length of her n
eck. The texture of his beard on her skin accented the heat of his kisses. Her hands curved around the back of his head, holding him close, wanting him never to stop.

  He smiled and kissed her lightly on the lips. Her fingers continued to stroke the rough texture of his face above the matted thickness of his beard. “Out of hundreds, thousands, I would choose you, Sam. We could have so much fun together. You aren’t intimidated by anything, not even me. Why don’t you marry me?”

  “Because I don’t love you,” she replied slowly, softly. She grinned. “I do like your kisses, though. I like them very, very much.”

  He laughed, locking his fingers behind her waist to keep her close to him. “Are you always so honest”

  “Always. This caused me a great deal of trouble when I lived with my brother. His wife hated me, but pretended otherwise. I hated her, and never failed to show it.”

  He bent to kiss her on the nose. “So you fell in love with ‘Joel Houseman,’ and escaped to the Klondike.”

  “Yes.” Her eyes widened with delight as she felt his caress along her back, through the thin material of her blouse. “I did love him.”

  His mouth less than an inch from hers, he whispered, “Why can’t you love me?”

  “You aren’t him, and—”

  Her answer was lost in his lips. She had no time to think as he lowered her to the ground. A brief warning in her head disappeared when he teased her mouth open with the tip of his tongue. His breath swirled into her mouth as he claimed it’s liquid surfaces. She became as fluid, melting beneath his questing touch. The movement of his hands along her side urged her to caress him as eagerly. As his fingers moved to the curve of her breast, she gave a shocked cry. Jerking her face from under his, she tried to escape. She had risked allowing her passions to destroy her good sense. So often, she did not even like this man. She could not let him become her lover!

  “No, no,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m not going to let you go.”

  “Joel!”

  “Hush.” Smiling tenderly, he soothed the furrows from her forehead. “I won’t touch you now, if that is what you wish.”

  “I—” Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I want! I don’t love you.”

  He winced, but when she opened her earth-dark eyes again she saw his usual, irreverent grin. “I won’t say I’m sorry, Sam. Sam, will you—”

  “What?” she asked, stiffening. She was thrilled by his caresses, but she was not about to make a decision. A few stolen kisses did not necessarily lead to a permanent relationship.

  His lips touched her forehead, before sliding to the tip of her nose. “I’m asking that you stay at Fifteen Above, and give us a chance to share these wondrous moments. You don’t want to give this up, do you, Sam?”

  She had no opportunity to answer. His lips found her mouth again. When she realized he would not push too far again, she relaxed, and let the fire within her blaze again. Her arms tightened around his shoulders, drawing him closer. The sensation of being pinned under him created a strange pulse in the center of her being. It urged her to move in a rhythm she did not recognize.

  Suddenly he paused and raised his head, hushing her. She, too, heard a sound, through the rising tides of love. He looked down at her, smiling sadly. His voice full of regret, he said, “Kevin. At the river—”

  “Yes. I hear him,” she answered.

  “I have to get back to work, Sam.” Although hurried, he found time to kiss her with passion. “Soon? We’ll do this again?”

  She accepted his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. She brushed off her skirt which showed she had been lying in the scruffy growth.

  Her sigh seemed so loud in the still shadows of the trees. When she felt his arm circle her shoulders, she leaned her head against his chest. Moments ago she had been in his arms. Now he was hurrying to the river. This crazy life! She frowned, giving a deep sigh.

  “Are you so unhappy?” Joel asked.

  “No … and yes.” She smiled when she heard his soft chuckle. “It just seems as if these hills are going to suffocate me.”

  “Maybe today’ll be the day we make the strike, Sam. Then we can put this damnable land behind us. Imagine what it’ll be like to return to the States with all the money you could possibly want.” His eyes glowed with his obsession. “To tell those who said you would amount to nothing you have succeeded.”

  She said softly, “I can’t imagine that. I can only think of the work I still have to do at the cabin.” She stepped away from him. Reluctant to release her, he slid his hand along her shoulder blade. “And you have work to do in the river,” she went on, “if you plan to make your dreams come true.”

  “You would have made a very good slave driver,” he said with a wry smile. “See you at supper. And, Sam?”

  She turned. “Yes?”

  His lips found hers easily. “Don’t forget that, honey.” Then he moved along the path to the sluice.

  “I won’t.” For once, sarcasm did not taint her voice. Watching him walk away, she grinned at his pleased swagger. She was so happy about what they had discovered today. It gladdened her heart that he felt the same.

  During the next month of chores and long days of toiling until she fell aching and exhausted into bed, Samantha recalled those stolen moments. Although Joel did not miss an opportunity to touch her in passing or to hold her hand out of sight of his partner, they found no chance to share passionate kisses again.

  The weather changed with nearly visible speed. Summer heat vanished as if it had never existed. September mornings brought glittering frost on the few sprigs of grass in the clearing. She often woke to find a skin of ice on the water in the bucket by her bed. More than once, she dressed beneath the covers because she could not put her bare feet on the frosty floors.

  At midday the sun still beamed down on her shoulders as she bent over the washboard. She had already told her customers that, at the first snow, her laundry would close. Now she often wished she had said the first frost. Carrying pail after pail of icy water from the spring and hanging clammy shirts, her chapped hands burning in the wind, was so terrible that she doubted the gold could make it worthwhile.

  She spent more and more time in the cabin. Joel and Kevin did not work as long at the river now. The hours of sunlight were decreasing rapidly, and the partners had sluiced most of the pay dirt accumulated last winter. They spent some of their time shoveling piles of riverbank soil, preparing for the high waters of next spring. They hurried back to the cabin often to warm their hands, which grew stiff even in heavy gloves. She grew accustomed to this constant parade to and from the river.

  When she heard a single set of footsteps approaching the cabin, Samantha noted it immediately. Joel and Kevin seldom left each other alone at the river.

  “Find your prettiest hat, Sam!” called Joel, poking his head into the cabin and walking over to where she was working.

  “Why?”

  Taking her hands, he twirled her into his arms. “I’ve been speaking with Kevin about your assertion that you are bored looking at the same vistas every day. We decided you should have your horizons broadened. How about a ride into Grand Forks?”

  “Oh, Joel, that would be wonderful!” Her hands slid along his arms. The strength of his warm body enticed her.

  Suddenly he released her. Rocked backward, she had to grab the iron railing of the bedstead. When Kevin came smiling into the cabin, she understood. For the same reason she could not bring herself to be honest about her growing attraction for him, Joel pretended nothing had happened but a mellowing of their mutual distaste.

  “So what do you think, Samantha?” Kevin asked. He drew off his hat and wiped his sweaty brow on his sleeve. A streak of dirt crisscrossed his skin.

  “Going to Grand Forks sounds wonderful!” She was glad to have an excuse for the glow in her eyes. She had to hide the happiness she felt being near Joel. “What shall we do?”

  Joel drawled, “Well, there’s a spellin
g bee scheduled at the Presbyterian church.”

  “No!” Kevin shouted. “Something a lot more exciting than trying to spell Cincinnati and encyclopedia!”

  “We can discuss that on the way in,” she said soothingly. She had no idea why Kevin had reacted so vehemently. The idea of a spelling bee where they could compete against neighbors and laugh together sounded delightful to her, but it was not worth an argument.

  “All right!” said Joel. “We’ll hitch the horse to the wagon. Get your bonnet and meet us at the stable. Two minutes!”

  “Two minutes! How do you expect me to get cleaned up?”

  He shrugged. “You don’t need to be fancy in Grand Forks.”

  “You aren’t going in those clothes, are you?”

  The men looked at each other. Noting her stubborn expression, they read her desire to break the monotony of work clothes dirty with sweat, and hours of labor.

  Joel slapped his partner on the back. “I guess we are going to have to be all citified.” Grinning, he added, “Maybe she thinks we can’t be anything but filthy prospectors.”

  Accepting the challenge, Kevin laughed. “Half an hour then, Samantha. That’ll give us time to wash up.” Whistling, he reached for his clean shirt and scrounged in a box at the end of the bed for other things he had not worn in longer than he could remember. As he pulled out a dark coat, though, he frowned. The last time he had worn that was for the funeral of his stepfather.

  Caught up in her happiness, Samantha did not see the odd twist of his lips. She raced to her ladder. She washed quickly.

  Like the men’s work things, her clothes showed signs of her rough labor. She had saved one skirt and blouse, hoping for a time like this.

  Pulling them from their pegs, she placed them reverently on the bed and then put them on, one by one. The black taffeta skirt tied at her waist and ended at the hem with a pleated flounce. Over it, she wore a cream-colored silk shirtwaist, it’s yoke smocked with gold threads to match the shirring at the cuffs.

 

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