Golden Torment

by Janelle Taylor

  “You are most thoughtful, sir. Any help would be appreciated.”

  “Since you two are alone, I can let you bunk in my supply tent for a while. I need a cook or two if you’re interested. I have eighteen to twenty-five men to feed every day. I’ll pay four dollars a day, and the men might toss you a gold nugget once in a while. Plus, there’s other ways to earn gold, those you mentioned earlier, Mrs. Pullen.”

  “Is there some place to purchase one of these tents?” Kathy asked, reluctant to depend on a strange man for her accommodations.

  “I’m afraid not. Wood’s being cut and sawed for cabins. But for now, that’s the best I can do for you.”

  “I wish we had known about the harsh conditions here,” Kathy remarked dejectedly. “If not for you, sir, I don’t know what would happen to us,” she offered their gratitude.

  Moore smiled jovially and nodded his thanks. “Might be nice to have some decent womenfolk and good food for a change. You two ladies come with me.” Noting their luggage, he halted and said, “We can’t leave this stuff here. It’d be gone time we turned our backs.” He called two strapping lumberjacks over and ordered them to collect the baggage. With the help of the four husky men, their possessions were escorted along with them to the supply tent.

  “Put your things in here. I always keep a guard on duty. It rotates between Griff and Lewis Johnson. Lots of stealing in a place like this. Too many poor folks. You want the jobs as cooks for me?”

  Harriet quickly accepted, “I do, Mr. Moore. Kathy?”

  Kathy felt trapped into accepting. “Until I decide how to locate my father, I’ll help Harriet.” Where and how did she begin her quest?

  “Great! See that long tent? You cook and serve each morning and night. Unless I say otherwise, plan on twenty hungry men. Feed ’em good, but don’t waste supplies. Right now, that place is a pigsty. I ain’t had the time to clean it up for days. When it’s dirty, the men don’t take care with keeping it picked up. Once you get it in order, they’ll keep it that way. They’re good men, just messy and tired at night,” he remarked as the women exchanged guarded looks.

  He chortled ruefully and went on, “You got three hours to wash up and cook the evening meal. I was just about to start it when I saw you two standing there with Griff. I been leaving my crew early to get supper. My last cook got gold fever. Sure gonna be nice not to slave over that wood stove; I ain’t no cook anyway. If you need anything before I come back, ask Griff. The guard ain’t allowed to leave his post for any reason.” As Moore headed off, he stopped and looked back to add, “If you need any privacy, there’s a new chamber pot in the supply tent and there’s an outhouse near the last tent. Just for safety, better take Griff if you leave my area,” he cautioned.

  Both women fused a deep scarlet at the mention of such a personal chore; they glanced at the stony ground in modesty. “See you later,” Moore tossed over his shoulder and walked off.

  The two women stared at each other, then smiled faintly. “Well,” Harriet murmured, “let’s get moving.”

  They entered the supper tent and came to an abrupt halt. Moore hadn’t exaggerated. The wooden tables were littered with filthy dishes and hardened bits of food. Trash was everywhere. Sticky spots stood out like brazen invitations for hungry bugs to come and eat hardy. The air was stuffy and offensive. From the chill, there was no fire.

  “Who eats here, men or animals?” Kathy sneered in disgust. “How could anyone have an appetite surrounded by such stench and filth? Pigsty is a compliment compared to this place!”

  “It definitely lacks a woman’s touch and care,” Harriet agreed, then laughed nervously. “If there was time, I would tear my hair and cry like a baby. Where to start?” she murmured to herself in utter despair, fighting back tears of frustration.

  “Burn the whole place and start from scratch! Well never get this place cleaned, aired, and filled with food for twenty men in only three measly hours. Two whole weeks wouldn’t even see it ready for service. It’s utterly impossible, Harriet! Does he think we’re magicians or simply desperate fools?” she said in exasperation.

  “I know, Kathy. But it’s the only job available, and four dollars a day is very good money. We are accepting his hospitality, and food is outrageously high. With potatoes at thirty dollars a bushel, canned milk at four dollars, eggs at twenty dollars a dozen, and sugar at over one hundred dollars a bag—how could we possibly survive for long? Even your money could run out soon. Please don’t feel obligated to help me; I’ll make out all right,” she bravely declared; yet, her voice was shaky and her face ashen. Embarrassed by her vivid show of disappointment and sadness, Harriet angrily brushed at the telltale tears which sparkled brightly on her rusty lashes. Unable to prevent it, she sat on the nearest bench and wept openly and bitterly.

  Kathy was moved. Harriet had been good to her. It was only fair to help her in this vile predicament. Calling on all of her inner strength, Kathy removed her cape and tossed it over a solitary chair near the stove. She stuffed her velvet purse into a pocket on her dress. She gingerly touched the stove; it was slightly warm. Checking inside, she found glowing embers. It was get busy or…

  “We’re in luck, Harriet,” she sang out cheerfully. “There’s a tiny fire; let’s work on it before it dies. Let’s see…” She looked around, mentally noting each impending chore. “First, we need lots of hot water. We can sweep the floor and scrub the tables while the dishes soak. We need to pull back every flap and air out this place. Then, while one of us washes that pile of dirty tin, the other one can start dinner. Since I’m not a good cook, how about if I do the chores?”

  Harriet rushed to her side and hugged her affectionately. “Thank God for you, Kathryn Hammond. I’m so glad you’re here with me.”

  Kathy smiled. With hard labor and determination, they vigorously attacked the tent with washcloths, brush broom, strong and nimble backs, industrious hands, obstinate minds, and dreamy hearts. Kathy hauled in wood from the towering stack outside. Harriet worked until new flames were licking greedily at the added pieces of fuel. Kathy went all around the tent securing back each flap to produce an air-flow to dispel the repulsive odors.

  Harriet filled a large pot on the stove to supply them with boiling water. She then stacked the dishes in a round basin to be covered with the water when it was hot enough to perform its difficult task. Kathy took a thick cloth and brushed the loose remains from the tables and benches. Later, she took a brush-broom in hand and started to work on the floor debris.

  “Kathy, I’m going to see what supplies they have to work with while I’m waiting for the water to boil.”

  “Good idea. I can cook, but I sorely hate to plan meals and the amounts to prepare. I don’t even know how much food one ravenous man can consume, much less twenty starving males,” she jested lightly, winking at the grinning Harriet.

  “I’ve had plenty of experience in that line. My husband, God rest his soul, was a hardy eater. Now I have three growing boys with very healthy appetites. I’m so glad you’re here, Kathy. I’m not as tough as you think. I have just as many fears and doubts as you do. But I have others depending on me to be strong and successful. I just pretend to be tough and brave to keep others from taking advantage of a poor widow.” With that unexpected confession, Harriet left for the supply tent. She nodded at the amicable guard and disappeared inside.

  It required some back muscle and time, but finally the dirt floor was clean. Fresh air, tinged with the delightful scent of spruce, wafted through the oblong tent and cleared away the stagnant odors. Steam started to rise from the rolling water on the stove. Kathy went to pour it over the metal dishes and utensils. Taking two thick pads, she struggled to lift the heavy pot. Her sore body and depleted energy rebelled at her strain on them.

  “Drats!” she fretted in annoyance. “I’ll never finish!”

  A masculine voice spoke behind her, “Need some help, miss?”

  Startled, she whirled around at the sound of the unfamiliar voi
ce. Her forearm brushed against the hot stove, searing the flesh. Before taking note of her company, she winced and cried out. Her eyes flew to the smarting injury, ignoring him completely.

  The tall stranger rushed forward, seizing her arm and pouring cold water over the gradually reddening area. “I didn’t mean to scare you, miss. I heard we had a new cook and I just wanted to see for myself if rumor could be trusted. Looks like you been mighty busy,” he casually remarked in a vital tone which she found warming. He dunked her arm in a bucket of cold water. “This’ll stop the pain and lessen the damage. Pardon me for barging in on you.”

  Kathy watched him closely, stunned into silence by the compelling creature. He eventually glanced at her, his devastating smile slipping from his handsome face as he gazed at the beautiful girl of eighteen who was staring back at him. Without awareness, she assessed his looks as he simultaneously catalogued hers.

  He was very tall, muscular and virile. The rolled-up sleeves on his flannel shirt revealed arms of smooth, firm iron. Kathy couldn’t decide if he was in his late twenties or early thirties. His hands were strong, but slightly rough due to work and the harsh Alaskan weather. His mane of sooty black hair was full and nearly straight; it fell casually to his nape and there it curled under. Thick, dark brows perched over eyes which were so deeply brown that they looked almost black. His upper lip was full and wide, the lower one even fuller. He had that kind of mouth which invited kisses, whose smiles could be beguiling and heart-fluttering. His firm jaw was squared and angled enticingly upwards to prominent cheekbones. His towering height and broad shoulders made him appear massive, almost intimidating. Yet, his eyes and expression were warm and tender, sensually seductive. He evinced a prowess which Kathy found overpowering and appealing. A commanding aura emanated from him, charming and tempting even at first glance.

  Mesmerized, she stared at him, oblivious to the pain in her arm. How could she possibly notice such a minor injury when his touch and nearness enflamed her entire body? Her heart raced wildly and her eyes softened noticably. When he spoke again, his deep voice caused her to shiver and to listen enthralled.

  “Is that any better?” he murmured, his mahogany eyes never leaving her enchanting face. “Who are you?”

  When she failed to answer him, he waved his hand before her entranced eyes and teased, “Anybody home in there?” He grinned as she flushed apple red.

  She promptly recovered her wits and poise. She hastily jerked her arm free of his gentle grasp. To cover her discomfiture and attraction to him, she snapped, “Don’t ever sneak up on me like that again!” She absently studied the burn on the underside of her arm. Who was this magnetic man who had held her hypnotized until she felt foolish and forward?

  “I didn’t sneak in,” he mildly corrected her accusation. “You were just busy and didn’t hear me. Might have been due to all that chattering to yourself,” he mischievously hinted, playfully mocking her.

  She angrily glared at this formidable stranger with twinkling eyes, a daring manner, and an engaging smile. She almost returned it, but controlled that impulse. “Dinner won’t be ready for another hour. Come back then. I have chores to do.” Kathy turned to struggle with the weighty pot, unable to lift it.

  Dinner? he mirthfully speculated. “Here, let me do that,” he offered, taking the pads from her before she could object or agree. “Next time, don’t put so much water in it. You’re much too fragile and small to lift this much weight,” he chided her.

  Reprimanded like a child and thoroughly unsettled, Kathy stated, “My chores are none of your concern, sir!” As he calmly and carefully poured the steaming liquid over the dishes, she added tersely, “And I’m stronger than I look! Besides, I’m tall for most women; I’m fiveseven,” she snippily divulged, troubled by his effect upon her.

  “No need to spread your wings of warning, my Golden Duckling; everybody is short to me. You didn’t say; what’s your name?” He glanced at her, his eyes warming and lingering as they fused with her sapphire ones. Spitting beads of water called his attention back to the overflowing dish basin. He set the pot down and turned to face her. “Well?” he practically demanded as she suppressed her amused giggles with a hand clamped over her mouth, her sparkling eyes mocking him.

  “Well, what?” she chirped saucily, enjoying his nettled plight.

  “Your name, my fair-haired cook?” he stressed in annoyance.

  “You may call me Cook. I don’t give my name to strangers, especially not sneaky ones who cause accidents.”

  “I’m Landis Jurrell. I eat here when I’m in Skagway,” he introduced himself, extending his hand, calmly anticipating her reply.

  She looked at his outstretched hand as if it were some coiled viper about to strike her. She looked up at him, sticking out her pert chin in defiance of his simple request.

  His probing gaze slipped over her golden tresses, the small, slender nose, the unmarked complexion, the full lips, and her exquisite bone structure which added up to the most beautiful picture he had ever seen. His appreciative gaze went back to her striking and stormy eyes. They were like liquid topaz surrounded by igneous blue sapphire. Her thin brows arched nicely over provocative lids. Her eyes were bright and impressive, eyes which bravely defied him and his intense scrutiny, eyes which displayed an innocence and vitality which intrigued and bewitched him.

  He grinned, concluding, a body and face to drive a man crazy. Irrational jealousy flooded him as images of a husband or anxious fiance stormed him.

  “If you’ve quite memorized my face and figure, Mr. Jurrell, would you mind clearing out so I won’t lose my job on the first day! Mr. Moore wants dinner served in one hour,” she sassily informed him.

  Landis scanned the brazen temptation which she presented without even trying. What sexual torture she could inflict on a man! He unexpectedly inquired, “Are you married or engaged?”

  Kathy stared at him in disbelief. How dare a total stranger question her this way! “I hardly feel that’s any of your business, sir!”

  “I just assumed you came here with your husband or to meet your fiancé,” he insouciantly suggested, hoping she would respond.

  “Well, you assumed wrong!” she announced.

  He chuckled and murmured in a sensual tone, “I shall see you again at…dinner, my little Golden Torment.” He turned to swagger out, his carriage and fluid movements suggesting immense self-confidence and agility, flavored with great pride and roguish arrogance.

  Kathy ran forward and blocked his path. She stared into his handsome, expectant face. She demanded, “What did you call me?”

  Amused and baffled, he chuckled at her inexplicable anger. “My little Golden Torment,” he lazily replied. A strange look filled her muted eyes before she turned away.

  “It was meant as a compliment, miss; no offense intended,” he murmured from behind her, shrewdly aware of the odd mood his words had inspired. He wondered why, but didn’t ask.

  She slowly turned and stared up at him, then brushed past him to return to her work. Just above a whisper she threw over her shoulder, “The name’s Kathryn Hammond, Mr. Jurrell.”

  Before he could respond, Harriet came back, lugging two heavy bags. Landis quickly took one from her and placed it on the last table which was closest to the cooking area. Harriet smiled and thanked him.

  He nodded and bowed slightly. “Landis Jurrell at your service, ma’am. I’ve already met your lovely daughter, Mrs. Hammond. We’ll look forward to some good food and lovely faces for a change.”

  Harriet laughed merrily at his mistaken impression. “The name is Mrs. Harriet Pullen. Kathy is my good friend, not my daughter.”

  Landis glanced in Kathy’s direction, a curious look on his arresting face. He shrugged, smiled, and left. Harriet watched him until he was out of sight. “Who was that?” she asked, charmed.

  “He said Landis Jurrell,” Kathy replied, hoping to conceal her disquiet and interest in him.

  “I caught his name, Kathy; but what d
oes he do here?” Harriet pressed, an odd inflection lacing her voice.

  “Why, Harriet Pullen,” Kathy teased impishly. “I do believe he caught your eye. He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. He only mentioned that he eats here when he’s in Skagway.”

  “That means he doesn’t live here. What a shame! He’s the closest thing to a perfect man I’ve ever seen. His size and manner say he would make a fine…protector for you. He was most charming and pleasant, didn’t you think? Why the cold shoulder?” she persisted.

  “He crept up on me and made me burn my arm,” Kathy foolishly snapped. Instantly sorry, she apologized for her curtness, “I’m just tired and tense, Harriet. Don’t pay any attention to me. He filled the basin for me; the pot was to heavy to lift.”

  “Since he’s not from here, did you ask him about your father?” she tried another approach to interest Kathy in this vital man.

  Kathy gasped in irritation. “I didn’t even think about it,” she confessed. “I will at dinner,” she hastily resolved.

  “I can see how a man like that could drive a female to distraction,” Harriet jested, cackling mirthfully.

  Kathy flashed her a reproving look. “Harriet Pullen, you simply won’t do. Behave yourself. We have work to finish.”

  “You didn’t think he was appealing?” she probed as she unpacked the supplies, watching Kathy from the corner of her eye.

  Kathy sighed wearily and admitted, “Yes, Mother. In fact, he is too handsome and disarming. Now, can we finish here? I’m exhausted.”

  “I’d bet my first earnings he won’t be the only man chasing your skirts before this night’s over,” Harriet mirthfully teased.

  “If one of those ruffians dares to touch me or insult me, I’ll claw his eyes out!” she vowed, recalling her dreadful episode with Marc Slavin.

  “Then you’ll be fighting most of the time. Ignoring their stares and remarks is the best way to handle them,” Harriet advised calmly.