Golden Torment

by Janelle Taylor

  Trace let her half-lie pass unquestioned; her movements weren’t any of his business. But Landis wouldn’t be pleased. The men drifted back to conversing about the wolf attack and the unexpected blizzard. Kathy stared into the blazing fire, her mind somewhere else.

  Later, when everyone was settled down and warmed, Kathy insisted on helping Pete prepare supper. That evening sped by; Kathy didn’t offer any information, and Trace didn’t press her for any clues. The men drank a good deal of whiskey while they talked and played poker. Kathy sat before the fire, again entrapped by thoughts of Landis, her father, and her rescue by Trace. The hour grew late. Kathy was placed nearest the fire in her sleeping bag. Her pants and shirt were uncomfortable, but necessary. The men slipped into their bedrolls clad only in longjohns—naturally after warning her to turn her back.

  By midnight, the glacial winds were still maliciously pulling at anything in their destructive path; the voracious wolves had finished their meal and darted away to seek a cozy place to sleep; the awesome blizzard continued to cast its raging fury on the defenseless land…and the four occupants of Pete’s cabin were fast asleep.

  Miles northeastward, two men sat at a square table eating in brooding silence. The older man pushed aside a straying lock of golden wheat tinged with silver and locked his sapphire gaze on his sullen companion. Ben finally asked, “Have you seen her since she left us?”

  It was unnecessary to speak her name. Landis looked up, troubled lines creasing his brow. “I could care less if I ever lay eyes on that traitorous witch again! She could drop dead for all I care!” A curious tremor swept over him as the false words left his taut lips.

  Ben sat up straight in his wooden chair, rankled by his friend’s words and icy manner. “How can you be so cold-blooded and cynical, Landis? Kathryn’s your wife. One day you’re going to find out you’ve been wrong about her. When that day comes, which it will, you’ll hate yourself for what you’ve done to her. She didn’t steal your papers.”

  “Did you?” Landis sarcastically snarled, not really meaning his question, just attempting to halt this plaguing conversation.

  “No, Landis; I swear I didn’t steal your papers either. If you don’t love her or want her, free her; but you do owe her an apology and some kindness. How would you really feel if she dropped dead?”

  Landis stared off into empty space, refusing to answer. When he didn’t, Ben probed, “What did they do with Michelle’s body?”

  “What was left of it after that fall was buried outside town.”

  “Did she fall, or was she pushed?” Ben pressed.

  “We know it wasn’t an accident, and it wasn’t suicide either. Soapy will hang for it, along with other crimes,” he swore ominously.

  “They can’t arrest him without proof,” Ben noted.

  “I’ll get the Mounties their damn proof!” he thundered, striking the table so forcefully that coffee sloshed from their cups.

  “Were you in love with her? Is that why you sent Kathryn away?”

  “You’re mighty curious tonight, friend,” Landis remarked.

  “I like Kathryn very much, Landis. She’s had a rough time. I just hate seeing you add to her anguish with these wild charges and your violent temper. Is it so impossible to give her the benefit of doubt?”

  “Utterly impossible, Ben. Mark my words, before Kathryn Jurrell leaves me and Alaska, she’ll place those papers in my hands.”

  “Are you that confident? Or just pray you’re right after what you’ve done and said to your wife? What happened in Skagway?”

  Needing to talk with a close friend, Landis moodily exposed the events of their last meeting, adding past details which supposedly pointed Kathy guilty. Landis was tempted to reveal his Mounty identity to Ben and to plead for his assistance—but he couldn’t.

  The clues in those statements caused Ben to inwardly wince at what Landis must have put his daughter through—for by now, he was certain Kathy was his child. “You’re stubborn, Landis, stubborn and mistaken. I’ve known her a short time, but I’d stake my life on her innocence. You blind fool, you don’t even realize what you’ve lost.”

  “I tell you what, Ben; I’ll wager you this claim that Kathryn Jurrell will be the one to return those papers,” he vowed, gazing at Ben, whose expression vaguely reminded him of someone. But who?

  “I accept your challenge,” Ben calmly replied, surprising Landis.

  “Maybe it’ll be worth the loss if you’re right,” he freely admitted.

  “I doubt it, Landis. By then, you’ll have lost everything. Just like Dory, you’ll force Kathy to seek solace in the arms of another man.”

  Landis studied the faraway look in Ben’s eyes. Where had he heard that name before? “Dory?” he echoed. “Who’s she?”

  Ben stiffened at his careless slip. Ben parried, “The woman in Montana, the one I mentioned.” Distracted, Ben didn’t notice Landis’s keen interest.

  “Is she happy? Are you sorry about losing her?” Landis feigned normal curiosity and concern, his keen mind on full alert.

  “I’d say she’s at peace. As to regretting her decision, I’ll never know. She chose another man over me; she had to live with that choice.”

  The bitterness and pain in Ben’s voice compelled Landis to probe for more facts. Landis hadn’t missed the past tense in Ben’s words. As Ben drifted briefly in a haunting past world, Landis sent his perceptive mind on an exploration which covered the past two years. As if walking on thin ice over a pond, the barrier split and he fell into a river of answers and questions. If his wild speculations were accurate, Ben Weathers was actually…His heart drummed madly as he reasoned what that made Kathryn Hammond Jurrell. Had she sought out the very man who could unsuspectingly deliver her to her goal? If Ben knew Landis was Clinton Marlowe, Ben assumed they weren’t wed. Had Ben told Kat? Both knew about the hiding place? Both had used and duped him? Was he blindly and rashly aiding their missions?

  His dark eyes wandered over Ben’s features. Why hadn’t he noticed their striking resemblance? He had trusted Ben with his life! Kathy’s recent search jarred his mind; if she knew the truth, why go to such lengths to continue her charade? Was it possible she was an innocent pawn, that she was ignorant of Ben’s true identity? If the man who loved and had married Kathy could hold silent, why couldn’t her father? Hell, maybe he was grasping at smoke! He cautioned himself to patience, to observe both people until he was certain of his facts.

  “What was Dory like?” Landis inquired softly.

  Ben responded from his daze, “She was impetuous, spoiled, willful. She craved riches and excitement. She was a sensual creature, wild and carefree. She liked taking chances. I fell in love with her the first moment I saw her. She was poised on a hillside, the wind playing through her clothes and hair. She had locks like silky raven’s wings, just as black. Her eyes were like precious emeralds. The first time I gazed into them I was actually speechless. God, she was breathtaking. She was like an audacious child in a woman’s body. Maybe that was the problem, she never grew up.”

  Ben’s eyes glowed with tenderness during his reflections. Suddenly an icy glaze clouded them. “She was cruel and selfish. She wanted everything her gaze touched. She was too much like me. The things which attracted me to her in the beginning eventually drove me from her side. She made her bed with lies and deceits. I couldn’t handle it, especially the men. That’s why I eventually sacrificed everything and walked away.” Coming to abrupt awareness of his words, he added, “That’s why I couldn’t keep her or stay in Montana. But Kathryn isn’t like that. She’s special, Landis.”

  “You were wrong about Dory; you could be just as wrong about Kat. She has you charmed, Ben. She’s probably just like Dory.” If Ben were being honest, Landis comprehended his anguish. Landis also realized why Ben would hold the truth from Kathy, if Ben believed this woman was his abandoned child.

  Did Kathy think her marriage to Landis was false? Should he tell Ben it wasn’t? Landis was more conf
used and mentally tortured than ever. He had to bide his time until he and Ben could confide in each other. After all, Jake Hammond was a cunning spy.

  Ben shook his head. “The day hasn’t dawned when you’ve faced your golden torment. If you think you’re miserable now, wait a few months. You’ll rue the day Kathryn Leigh was lost.”

  Eighteen

  “I can’t believe we’re in Dawson,” Kathy murmured to Jack.

  Being cooped up with Trace Blitch and Hard-Nose Pete for several days had been quite an experience. She had cooked their meals and washed the dishes. The men had spent most of their time playing cards and rehashing olden days. When the weather had cleared sufficiently, the men had retrieved her and Jack’s belongings. Pete had been the one to inform her that not even bones remained of Harriet’s horse.

  She liked both Trace and Pete. Trace had been the perfect gentleman, friendly and charming. He possessed an air of authority and revealed great pride in his work. He was good company to be confined with for the short days and lengthy nights. In light of Landis’s threats, it would be wise to have a Mounty as a new friend.

  Kathy turned her head this way and that as they walked down the muddy street toward Soapy’s saloon. They had arrived mid-morning and taken two rooms at a boarding house of sorts. She had been amused and astonished by her first view of Dawson, heart of this wild territory, center for business and pleasure. Dawson was situated on flat-bottom land between two rivers, the prosperous Klondike and the mighty Yukon. It was overcrowded with thousands of gold-seekers, boisterous and intimidating. The mud-packed streets were lined by tottering wooden shacks, two-story clapboard buildings, rustic saloons, sturdy cabins, fancy gambling houses, several theaters, and various businesses.

  Even at noon, merrymaking filtered into the crowded streets. There were endless rows of tents at both ends of town. Frozen laundry popped and crackled in the wind. Smoke from campfires and stoves darkened the sky overhead, the dense clouds refusing to let it rise or disperse. Each time a door opened, laughter and rowdy talk pealed forth to beckon other lonely men inside. A variety of music was heard, often clashing where buildings were close.

  Dawson had some finer points: a semblance of a church, two banks, one hotel, a newspaper office, a photographer’s studio, and four mercantile stores. But one building stood out from all the others: the home of Soapy Smith’s saloon girls. Paradise House was built in the center of activity, across the street from his saloon. It was clean and sturdy, two stories high, painted white with red trim. Numerous chimneys testified that there were fires in every room. Kathy prayed she wouldn’t be required to live there while working for Smith, if he hired her.

  On the whole, Dawson appeared a town thrown up at an urgent pace, one meant only to last as long as the gold rush. Kathy had been disheartened to learn the exorbitant prices charged for the scantiest of items or services. Soapy had boasted of the excessive salary she would earn but he had failed to relate the high cost of living. No wonder his girls couldn’t leave once arriving. Though they made large amounts of money, it took all to survive. No doubt females were lured here with promises of great riches, much like the dreamy-eyed gold-seekers. Once here, they were trapped into staying, unable to afford to leave. Maybe they didn’t mind. After all, a job of that kind was probably the same anywhere.

  Not everyone was destitute. Many had found enough gold to survive the winter and to pay for their pleasures. When spring arrived, they would return to the goldfields or their claims to begin this vicious circle anew. What a cruel joke! Some men had struck it rich; others were getting rich off of thousands of hopeless dreams and dull days. Bored and lonely, men lazed around in the saloons until their gold-dust was gone or the day ended. Such an empty and tragic way to live, Kathy thought.

  To other’s misfortunes, their rooms had come available yesterday when two poor fools were tossed out from lack of money. Kathy couldn’t complain; the adjoining rooms were scrubbed, aired, and made ready for them. With so many people needing work to buy food, it was easy to find someone to bring in wood, to fetch water for baths, to do laundry, and to run errands. This hotel served hot meals twice a day. She almost felt guilty consuming such delectable food while others starved nearby.

  After setting in, Kathy had treated herself to a steamy bath with scented soap. She had stayed in the water until chilly. She donned her best wool dress, a becoming and proper style, and put on her finest shoes for her meeting with Randolph Smith. She had washed her hair and dried it before the fire. Now, it shone with silky lights and felt like kitten fur. Her cheeks had vanquished the evidence of her recent ordeal. Her face was unblemished, her cheeks rosy with good health. The deep blue gown enhanced her sapphire eyes, drawing many a hungry stare.

  Jack caught her elbow at the entrance to Soapy’s gambling house. He asked gravely, “Are you sure you want to go through with this? It isn’t too late to back down. You’ve had some rough experiences lately.”

  “You know the plan, Jack. I’ll be just fine. Besides, I’m not prepared to walk through those wilds again so soon. I’d rather wait for spring and challenge those treacherous rapids in your boat. Chin up, old friend. All I can do is fail to locate those papers.”

  Jack sighed in resignation. He opened the door and escorted her inside. They hesitated briefly, looking around for a moment. Kathy wasn’t prepared for what her vision revealed. She didn’t quite know what she had expected, not having been in such a place before. But this was far from her naive speculations!

  It seemed as if hundreds of candles and lanterns flooded the room with glittering light. From her vantage point, she saw three entertainment rooms. She was alert to note their differences. To her left, an archway led into a rustic room. It had bare, wooden tables and hard chairs. There was a rough wooden bar the length of one wall. It was apparent men with little money drank and relaxed there. Even the women who served them were older, plumper, or less than attractive.

  She half-turned to gaze into the room to her right. Red drapes, which could be closed for privacy, were held aside by golden cords. A deep red rug covered the entire floor, or at least all she could see. Matching red drapes covered the windows, denying a curious eye a view of its occupants. From the attire and behavior of most, that room held the more successful customers this area could claim. To the far end of that splendid room was a low stage, with a piano and bench, and a branched candleholder on the piano.

  The center room, where she was still gracefully poised by the door, was a combination of sights and sounds to stir the senses: laughter, conversation, tinkling glasses, roulette wheels, faro tables, assorted card games, and lovely females fluttering around. Kathy eyed several women. Most were attractive and shapely with seductive smiles and movements to entice wandering hands and eyes. Naturally they wore make-up, but it wasn’t brazen as she had been told. Nor were their red dresses that gawdy or revealing. But then again, with so few females around, sexual stimulation didn’t require any help from such trappings!

  For an instant, Kathy caught herself trying to pick out Michelle. Which flagrant creature had enticed the company and affection of Landis Jurrell? She rebuked herself for such mental wanderings from her plans.

  Jack removed her parka and flung it over his arm, along with his. The room smelled of cigars and pipes, their smoke curling upwards to float about until dissipated. To the far end of this main room, a bar stretched nearly the length of the wall, but for a private doorway to the back. Near the right wall was a wooden dance floor where couples were obviously enjoying themselves. The moment Kathy’s coat was removed, lecherous gazes fastened to her shapely body and beautiful face. Noting the open-mouthed stares of their companions, other eyes followed their line of entranced vision. Kathy rosed as a hush fell over the main room and all eyes seemed pinned on her. Worse, even the gay music halted.

  Soapy was leaning on the bar talking with a man when this strange occurrence took place. He curiously turned to see what was happening. His face brightened, his dark eyes s
parkled. She was a rare vision of loveliness and innocence. Her champagne tresses cascaded over her shoulders like a golden waterfall. Secured by a blue ribbon, its lengthy edges mingled with her tawny curls. The gown molded her sensuous curves. In spite of his plans for her, a craving to possess her surged through him…

  Smith walked forward to greet them, his stride measured and self-assured. He clasped her hand in his and raised it to his lips for a kiss, his mustache tickling her. “I’m honored, Mrs. Jurrell. Please come in. I have a special wine for such a beautiful occasion,” he gallantly stated. “Is your husband coming along shortly?”

  Kathy extracted her hand from his moist grasp and lowered her lashes demurely. “Landis is busy trapping. He said Jack could give me a look at the notorious Dawson and leave messages about my father.”

  “Ah, still no luck with your search?” he inquired solicitously.

  “No, sir. Jack said yours was a safe establishment. He claims you serve the best food in this wilderness.” She had begun her scheme.

  Several men rushed forward, wanting to know if this was Soapy’s newest find. A scarlet blush suffused Kathy’s face, for their meaning was clear. Soapy admonished them, claiming only that she was a dear friend, failing to mention Landis. He insisted on their respect and warned against accosting her. He waved his hand for the music to begin a lively tune. Eventually some eyes returned to their dealings, others remained on her. Several of the women were openly glaring at this undesirable competition.

  Soapy led them into the room at their right. He seated Kathy and called over a girl. “Maura, the very best wine from my private stock and three glasses,” he ordered without taking his eyes from Kathy.

  Kathy was leery of the way he was staring as he spoke with Jack. She looked around the room, admiring the furnishings and decorations. “I am most impressed, Mr. Smith. This isn’t at all what I expected,” she complimented him with honesty.