"Nonsense," Elvira declared with spirit. "Broken bones heal wonderfully well. All you'll need is a bit of therapy. Hannah, there's a vial of painkillers in my purse back there. I take them for migraine. Give him two with some apple juice.”
Hannah found the pills and a tetrapac of juice. Billy acted as though he’d never seen a box of juice. His rheumy eyes grew panicky, and it took all of Hannah’s patience to convince him it was apple juice, but once he’d mastered the straw, which took some doing on Hannah’s part, he swallowed the juice and the medication.
“What’s the horse’s name? He’d probably respond a lot better if I knew his name,” Elvira called back.
Billy had collapsed again on the wagon floor. “Name’s Jupiter,” he mumbled, drawing the blanket up over his head. Within a very few moments, he was asleep. It was an enormous relief to hear him snoring.
Hannah realized how tense she was. She stretched and peered over Elvira’s shoulder, hoping for lights that would indicate a house, but the only light was the eerie brightness of the moon.
"We must’ve been riding in this horrible wagon for over an hour already,” Daisy complained. “Wouldn’t you think there’d be houses along the way, or that a car would come along?"
Elvira didn’t answer her, and neither did Hannah.
Daisy was absolutely right. It didn’t seem possible to travel this far on what should be a well- used route without a single sign of human habitation or a vehicle from either direction.
A terrible foreboding was beginning to frighten Hannah, a sense that something was very wrong.
The road hadn’t improved. In fact, it was now so narrow and rutted that Hannah couldn't see how a car could manage to drive along it. Branches from trees overhung it, and several times she’d had to duck to keep from being scratched. They'd come so far now that there was no sense in turning around and going back, but she felt they'd made a serious mistake in not heeding Billy's suggestion that they go back to Quesnel.
Quesnellemouth, he’d called it. It hadn't been called that on the map, so maybe he meant another town.
Slowly, the night deepened. The moon reached its zenith and dipped towards the mountains. Elvira stopped the wagon beside a stream and Hannah filled Billy’s tin bucket with water for Jupiter.
When they were moving again, the women shared some of the remaining lunch, bagels stuffed with tuna and sprouts, and apples. They talked in quiet voices, discussing the accident.
Billy was now heavily asleep, his snoring punctuating the silence, and Hannah set aside a bagel and an apple for him.
Elvira and Daisy were quiet now, too, as if the ominous fear that Hannah experienced had transmitted itself to them.
Slowly, the terrain changed, and for a while the narrow trail again bordered a stream that glimmered like pewter in the silver moonlight. Then, once again, trees overhung the trail, and it became tortuously narrow, one side bordering a steep hillside and the other dropping straight down into a dark and terrifying ravine. There were no guardrails, no highway signs, nothing to indicate that the path they were on even led anywhere.
The women were silent, and Hannah put her hand on her mother’s shoulder and gently squeezed, giving and getting a measure of reassurance from the contact.
There was a long, gradual hill that led down to the bottom of a narrow valley, and gradually the thick forest they’d been passing through disappeared. The wagon rounded a corner, and all three women gasped in unison.
Ahead of them, bathed eerily in white moonlight, was a town, its single main street narrow and lined with wall-to-wall buildings with steeply peaked roofs. It lay in a barren landscape, as if some gigantic hurricane had come along, shearing off trees on either side of the mountains and leaving only stumps, miles and miles of them.
The smell of wood smoke hung in the cool night air, and as they drew closer, Hannah could hear noise, shouts, laughter, the tinny sound of a piano.
"Oh, thank goodness,” Daisy exclaimed. “This must be Wells. Didn't the guidebook say we’d come to Wells before we got to Barkerville, Hannah?”
She didn’t wait for a reply. “I'm so glad we're finally here. I’m getting really tired. But why do you think they cut down all these trees? And there aren't any streetlights."
Hannah’s heart was pounding, and her throat was so dry, she could hardly talk.
Elvira turned and looked at her, and Hannah saw a reflection of her own ominous foreboding in the other woman’s anxious glance.
“I’m sure this isn’t Wells, Mom," Hannah finally managed. “The town of Wells is set up on a hill, not down in a valley. There was a picture of it in the guidebook, and I paid particular attention because I wanted to find the hotel easily."
"There aren’t any electric lights at all," Elvira commented, puzzlement in her voice. "All these buildings seem to be up on stilts. And look at the horses tied along the street. You’d think they’d never heard of cars. Is that a waterwheel off to the side, making that noise?” She sounded perplexed. “I wonder if this is some little native village, Hannah? It's certainly not Wells, and of course it can’t be Barkerville.”
"There’s something wrong,” Hannah said in a faint voice. "I knew that road wasn’t the one we should have been on. We’re lost."
Behind her, Billy had stopped snoring. He cleared his throat and raised himself enough to spit over the side of the wagon. He looked around at the crude, one-room cabins they were passing as the horse pulled the wagon farther along the single main street of the town.
"Damn it all ta hell,” he moaned. "Here I be, back in Barkerville. I’m a dead man. Ya just had ta bring me back to Barkerville, didn't ya?” With a groan, he slumped back down on the floor of the wagon, and Hannah stared around again and then gripped the plank seat with all her strength to keep herself from collapsing.
Barkerville was a ghost town, and the guide book had warned that there were gates which locked the public out from seven in the evening until nine in the morning. She hadn’t checked her watch, but it had to be near midnight.
And whatever this strange place was, it was certainly no ghost town. It was noisy. There was the sound of rushing water from some nearby stream, and off to the right the waterwheel Elvira had remarked on thumped and squeaked. Several dogs had appeared out of nowhere, running alongside the wagon and barking hysterically, which of course sent Klaus into a frenzy.
There seemed to be horses tied up on either side of the street, and she had the impression that every second building they were passing was a pub. Voices and laughter spilled out, along with murky light that seemed to come from lanterns. A crooked wooden boardwalk ran along in front of the buildings, raised about three feet above the dusty street.
A horse neighed, and their own patient animal answered, his gait picking up as he made his way along. He seemed to know where he was going.
Crudely lettered wooden signs overhung the buildings. Hannah could make out the lettering on some as the wagon passed beneath them.
BREWERY. BREWERY. SALOON. DRUG STORE. NEW ENGLAND BAKERY. BENDIXON SALOON AND BOARDING HOUSE. TIN SHOP. ST. GEORGE SALOON. LIVERY FEED AND STABLE. NUGGET SALOON AND ROOMS.
Music, male voices, raucous laughter.
Midnight, and yet there was a sense of incredible energy and aliveness in this strange place. Hannah could feel it.
A tall, thin man came staggering out of the Nugget Saloon as they passed. He braced himself on the wall to peer curiously at the wagon and its cargo.
“Women, as I live and breathe." He stuck his head back inside the saloon and bellowed, “A wagonload of women has arrived, boys. There’s a wagonload of women out here."
He turned towards them again and swept his brimmed hat off and bowed low. "Evening, ladies. Welcome to Barkerville. Zachary Willings, barrister, at your service.”
He bowed again and almost tumbled down from the boardwalk, staggering along beside them, detouring now and then to stick his head into several other saloons and excitedly holler, "Women! An entire wago
nload of women just rolled in."
The next few moments were confusing and terrifying. Men came pouring out of doorways, jumping down from the raised boardwalk to the street, talking and laughing and calling boisterous greetings to the women.
In what seemed to Hannah only an instant, the wagon was surrounded with tightly packed male bodies.
Several of them took hold of Jupiter’s harness, and the horse stopped. The cacophony of voices was deafening. Questions and comments were directed at them in such a confused babble, it was impossible for the women to make sense of any of them at first.
Hannah felt trapped, threatened, terribly at risk. She stood up and put her arms protectively around Elvira and Daisy's shoulders. They huddled together on the wagon seat, as completely overwhelmed by what was happening as Hannah was.
She looked down into the sea of rough male faces, desperately trying to make some sense of what was occurring, but for the life of her, she couldn’t. She’d never been the center of such a frenzy, and she couldn’t begin to figure out why their arrival would create such a stir. Why were there so many men? And where was the R.C.M.P? A town this rowdy had to have some sort of police presence, her mind insisted.
A heavily muscled man with a full red beard had now elbowed his way through the crowd and was standing directly below Hannah, but he wasn’t smiling or calling greetings the way most of the other men were. Instead, he scowled up at her, his bearded face ugly, his tone threatening.
"Ain’t that horse Jupiter? Ain’t that Billy Renton’s horse?”
His voice was gruff and angry, and he bellowed up at Hannah. "And this be Billy's wagon, too, ain’t it? So where the hell is Billy Renton, lady?"
Hannah turned to confront him, glad that standing on the wagon bed put her much higher than he was. She was aware that the men’s voices had quieted completely.
"This is Billy's wagon and horse, and we need a doctor. We had a collision on a bridge, and Billy was injured." She gestured down at the strangely still figure huddled under the blanket. "He’s right there, under those blankets, and we could use some help getting him to the hospital—”
With a curse, the big man grasped the edge of the wagon and threw his body up and over the side, making it tilt precariously and bringing screams from Elvira and Daisy.
He bent and hauled the blanket off Billy and yanked the cowering little man upright in one smooth movement.
Billy shrieked and batted at the much larger man with his fists, but he was no match for him.
The other man held Billy like a ragdoll, his booted feet not even touching the planks.
“Billy Renton," he roared through clenched teeth, “you miserable, thievin’ little bastard, where’s my gold? Where’s the gold you stole offa me? Tell me or I'll blow your brains out.”
"There," Billy shrieked, pointing at the canvas bags beneath the blanket. "It’s all there, Dutch, I swear it is. Take a looksee, it’s all there. I ain’t even armed. Ya can’t shoot an unarmed man ... these women threw my guns away.”
"Like hell I can’t." The crowd guffawed and whistled in approval as Dutch unceremoniously lifted Billy even higher and dropped him over the side of the wagon and into the dust of the street.
Billy screamed in agony as his injured leg hit the earth, but Dutch paid no attention at all. He bent over and hefted the canvas bags.
Elvira and Daisy cried out in horror at the terrible sound Billy made when he hit the ground, and Hannah’s terror gave way to outrage.
“You ... you miserable coward! You, you . . . you bully," she hollered at the man called Dutch, drawing herself upright from where she'd been cowering along with Elvira and Daisy. Hands on her hips, she confronted the big man who crouched over the bags, fumbling with the knots in the rope that held them shut.
"How dare you treat another human being that way? You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Billy’s probably broken his knee, and you've made it worse. What are you, some kind of psychopath? How dare you treat him like that? I’m reporting you to the police for brutality.”
She then turned her wrath on the men now gaping up at her as if she was speaking in tongues. "And what’s the matter with the rest of you people? Can’t you see that poor man needs an ambulance? Isn’t there a hospital here, a doctor? Why don’t you do something for him instead of standing there like—like a bunch of lamebrained idiots?"
There was almost total silence for a moment, and then an amused male voice sounded. “You heard the lady, gents. Somebody go get Doc Carroll, he’s playin’ poker in the back room. Jacob, why don't you go and roust him out? And a couple of you can carry Billy into the Nugget and lay him out on the floor so Doc can figure out what’s wrong with him.”
Hannah squinted through the half darkness towards the authoritative voice. The speaker stood silhouetted against the lamplit interior of the Nugget Saloon. She couldn’t make out anything more than a tall, broad-shouldered outline, but the tone of his deep voice and his air of quiet assurance told her that here, at least, was someone civilized, someone who could make order of this bizarre event.
A sense of profound relief spilled through her as he ducked his head to clear the doorway, jumped down from the boardwalk, and came strolling towards the wagon.
“How do you do, ladies? I’m Logan McGraw.”
Yesterday’s Gold: Chapter Five
Logan was intrigued by the tall, spunky woman, and as he drew close enough to see more of her in the moonlight, he was also shocked and startled at her immodest attire.
She had a black knitted garment on top, but below it, at hip level, she was wearing close fitting pants that outlined her shape in a fashion that left little to the imagination.
Undoubtedly she’d come to Barkerville to make her fortune in one of the sporting houses. She didn’t sound like any of the soiled doves he’d ever met, however. She was well-spoken, obviously educated.
He had some education himself, but some of her words weren’t familiar. He studied her closely, wondering where she was from. She was a big woman, not blatantly fetching, but attractive all the same. Her fair hair was pulled back into a single long braid. She was no shrinking violet, that was evident. Even in the shadows, her dark eyes flashed indignation.
Her face was striking in the silvery moonglow, its strong features and clean jawline arresting and unusual, her mode of dress and hairstyle strange. Someone held up a lantern, and he noticed a lump on her forehead, as if she’d bumped it hard.
She was in a fine temper. "Are you all playing some sort of joke on us with this Barkerville thing?” She glared down at him, and there was accusation in her tone. “Because it's late, we've had an accident, we’re really tired, and I don’t find any of this funny in the slightest.”
She looked around at the other men. “You’re all actors, aren’t you? You’ve having some sort of celebration, Barkerville Days or something, and you’re having a huge, elaborate joke at our expense. Well, I don’t find it funny, not one bit."
Logan frowned up at her, unable to understand what she meant.
Several miners were carefully lifting Billy, and he gestured at the little scoundrel.
"Does this look to you like a joking matter, miss? Billy here stole Dutch's gold, and in a mining town, I assure you, such a thing is taken very seriously indeed. I’m sure Dutch will express his gratitude to you for apprehending Billy and bringing him back to Barkerville, along with all the missing gold.” His voice became steely. “Isn't that a fact, Dutch? It seems to me you owe these ladies both an apology and a token of your gratitude. You've obviously frightened them with your behavior, and they've done you a great service."
The miners cheered and nodded, and Dutch Charlie, who'd now climbed out of the wagon and taken the canvas bags with him, ducked his head in embarrassment.
"Sorry, ladies. Didn’t mean ta scare ya. I was just some put out with that little bastard... uhhh, with Billy." He reached a hand into the canvas sack he’d unfastened and shoved a closed fist towards Hannah. "Here—here
’s a little somethin' fer ya, darlin,' and many thanks.”
The tall woman didn’t immediately reach out to accept what Dutch was offering.
“Take it,” Logan advised in a firm tone. "You’ve earned it honestly.”
He hadn’t intended any crude innuendo in the remark, and he was relieved when she took no offense.
Instead, she reached out hesitantly and allowed Dutch to spill the handful of nuggets into her palm.
Logan had paid scant attention to the two older women, still seated on the front of the wagon. Now, the one handling the reins turned to the tall young woman and said in an impatient voice, “Hannah, I don’t know any more than you do what this crazy scene is all about, but I'm too tired to care. Billy seems to have been taken care of, so just find out where we can leave this horse and wagon and get a motel room. We can sort the whole mess out in the morning.”
So her name was Hannah. Logan supposed the older woman was a madam, come to set up a gaming establishment in the town.
Hannah gave him an inquiring look. "Well, Mr. McGraw? Is there somewhere to leave the horse? He must need water and feed. He’s pulled us for hours. And where's a motel?”
"The livery stable’s just down the street," Logan said. He'd never heard the other word, but he assumed it was the same as hotel. Unfortunately, housing horses in Barkerville was much easier than finding lodging for people.
After all, it was 1868, and the Cariboo gold rush was at its peak. The steady influx of men from all corners of the globe, eager to make their fortunes overnight, meant that there wasn’t a vacant bed in the entire town. In fact, it was commonplace for several men to rent one bed and then sleep in shifts. There were some doing so right now in Logan’s upstairs rooms, and in most of the other hotels as well.
But women were far more precious than gold in this town. Logan estimated there were probably ten thousand men in the vicinity of Barkerville, and perhaps a hundred and fifty women, many of them whores.
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