As surreptitiously as he had entered, he left. For two nerve-racking days, Landis tried to get to Kathy. True to his threat, Soapy and his guards made it impossible. She didn’t return to her room each night.
Landis altered his course of action. If he couldn’t get near her, a friend could; and he should when he heard Kat was in grave danger. For certain, Smith would use any excuse to kill Landis, so he dared not storm in and drag her out, wife or not. If Smith told Kat he was Marlowe, both would realize she was free of him. Landis needed Ben’s help; then, he needed to check in at Log Cabin and talk to Trace. Landis left Dawson as soon as he’d made his decisions—missing Trace’s arrival by another trail.
Kathy was relieved to see Trace on this fairly sunny Saturday. They ate lunch in the largest hotel, then talked. When he informed her of what happened with Slavin, she stared at him. Panic joined disbelief in her eyes. Her voice was strained when she asked, “How could they turn him loose? He was going to murder me, Trace. He’s dangerously insane. Where is he now?” she asked in rising alarm.
“Jack’s following him to see where he goes. I wish I could hang around until you’re ready to leave, but I can’t. If he does show up here, Jack will be on his tail. You be very careful and alert. He’s mad, but he’s not dumb. He’s been warned to stay away from you.”
“Idle threats, Trace!” she scoffed. “He’s been given countless warnings, including several beatings. He isn’t afraid of any of you; don’t you see that? He’s obsessed with revenge. Tell me, Trace; will your outstanding Mounties arrest him when he finally kills me?” she scornfully challenged. Stars above, her own husband wouldn’t help her!
“I know this makes you lose respect and faith in us. But we can’t hold him. He’s an American. Unless we can present a strong case against him, it’ll cause trouble. I wish your government would lend us some assistance with the criminals they’re dumping on us. The least they can do is send an agent to check out this situation. He won’t harm you again.”
“Landis made that same promise twice, for all the good it did. He could care less what Marc does to me,” she accused hotly.
“Did you and he have another quarrel?” Trace asked.
Kathy refused to answer, but told him about Soapy’s intensified protection and her gun. “I’ll be perfectly safe until I leave.”
Trace wisely didn’t press her for clarification. They discussed his promise to take her money to Log Cabin, then headed for the bank, which was open every day except Sunday. Shown into bank president Dobb’s office, the elderly, keen-witted man joined them. He smiled at Kathy and shook hands with Trace. He sat down behind his desk and looked at them.
“I have the money ready, Mrs. Jurrell. I gathered it in the largest American bills I have to make it easier and safer for Mounty Blitch to leave without notice. We’ll carry out the rest of your plan when I come to dinner. Well make certain everyone thinks you’re leaving without it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dobbs; you’ve been most kind and helpful.”
Trace concealed the money inside his waistband. As Dobbs walked them out, he stated in a distinct and slightly raised voice, “I’ll be happy to hold your earnings until you send your friends back for it.”
“Thank you, sir. I don’t think it would be safe for a woman to travel alone with so much money. Good day, Mr. Dobbs.”
Trace walked her to the boarding house and said farewell. “I’ll try to get back. If not, I’ll see you at Log Cabin or in Skagway.”
Kathy thanked Trace for his help and friendship before he left. When she went to work early that evening, she headed to Soapy’s office for two reasons: the jewelry, and news about Marc to aid her departure ploy. She knocked and was invited inside. Soapy halted his writing when he witnessed her distressed state. “Is Jurrell out there?” he asked, assuming that the reason of her emotional upheaval.
“No. Trace came to see me. He had some alarming news. The Mounties didn’t arrest Marc. I’ll finish out this week, Mr. Smith, then I’m getting far away from this savage land,” she informed him.
“They actually turned him loose?” he said in surprise.
“Yes,” she stated.
Soapy came around his desk and stood near her. “Don’t worry, Kathy; my men will guard you. Hell skulk around until this dies down.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said doubtfully.
He smiled. “I know so, Kathy. He’ll bide his time until he thinks you feel safe. By then, you’ll be heading for America.”
He led her to the oversized sofa, seating her. He gave her a glass of sherry. “You relax a little while, then go to the back room and freshen up. I think I’ll have a look around before you go out there.”
He left. Kathy sank against the sofa back and inhaled raggedly. She had to pull herself together. She was safe for now; neither man could get to her with Soapy’s men on alert. She would do as Soapy had instructed, this one time. She would delight in leaving this place.
She pushed up her limp body. She reached for her shawl, having brought one to ease her chill. The shawl fell behind the sofa. She futilely leaned over the tall back. She went to the end and stuck her leg behind it. She sighed in annoyance. She got down on her hands and knees and squeezed into the tight area between the sofa and wall. She grasped the shawl and was ready to back out. Alone! Was this the chance she’d waited for? Until now, she had never been alone in here.
The door opened and Soapy stormed inside. Noticing her absence, he snarled to Luther, “We’ve got to figure out Jurrell’s coded report!” He fumed.
Kathy froze, keeping her presence a secret. As the precarious pieces of the puzzle which had hurled her to this town fell into place, she almost laughed hysterically at the ludicrous timing of her elusive victory; it was too late to matter.
“Damn that infernal redbird! He thinks he’s so cunning! But I know who and what he is!” Smith claimed smugly.
Kathy came to full alert. Would she finally learn the truth about Landis? But what did Smith mean, who he was?
“Now, I’ve got this trouble with Kathy! I was tempted to try and keep her, but I think it’s best if she leaves as scheduled. Her problems are drawing too much attention from her Mounty friends—or she foolishly believes they are. That bastard ruined my plans for them! If he had fallen for her, I would have him right where I wanted him.”
“It was a long shot, Soapy. After Michelle, it’s no surprise he didn’t trust Kathy,” Luther reasoned to soothe his riled boss.
“He’s a damn fool, Luther! I gave him too much credit for intelligence and instinct. Any imbecile can see Kathy doesn’t have the wits and daring to do anything illegal or risky! Marlowe wanted her, all right, but only for one of his missions! I stole something I can’t even read! Hell!”
“Think he was trying to get her to work with him like Michelle? You think that’s why he pretended to marry her?” Luther asked.
“No way. He knows I wouldn’t trust her. He was just trying to win that bet we had; he was determined to earn my hundred dollars. That phony marriage has something to do with her father. I wanted him to fall in love with her; all he wanted was to use her!”
Kathy was stunned, tormented, and confused by what she was hearing. She listened intently. She wondered what was supposed to happen if they had fallen in love; Soapy didn’t expound right away. Luther’s next question and Soapy’s glacial, affirmative chuckle sent chills and tremors over her body, alerting her to her great peril.
“If she had agreed to spy for him, would you have gotten rid of her, too? Two accidents would look mighty suspicious.”
Soapy’s wintry chuckles answered. Accidents? her reeling brain asked. Cold-blooded murder! She had to escape! But how?
If she possessed the slightest doubt of Soapy’s insidious nature, his next words removed it. “Kathy wouldn’t be a problem. A neat fatal robbery on her return trip to Skagway,” he stated coldly.
“She won’t be taking her money along,” Luther debated.
; “What about an evil desperado on the trail who hasn’t heard her plans? Some men murder and rob just for survival,” he reminded.
“I like Miss Kathy, boss. I wouldn’t want to see her harmed.” He added almost ruefully, “She’s been kind to me, gave me real respect. She was always talking to me and thanking me. She’s a real lady, a heart of gold.”
“Don’t go getting sentimental on me, Luther,” Soapy coldly chided.
“I ain’t,” Luther declared sullenly, worried about Kathy.
“I’ve got to decide what to do about these reports,” he returned his attention to the problem at hand. “I can’t risk holding them.”
“Why don’t you lure Marlowe here? Torture the information out of him,” Luther suggested, terrifying Kathy.
“I could carve a Mounty into little pieces and he wouldn’t talk, especially Sergeant Clinton Marlowe. I can tell, he don’t give a shit about her. If only Marlowe had fallen for Kathy, then…” He paused to think. “A man in love, even an iron-willed one, would never stand by and watch his love sliced to ribbons. Pain wouldn’t matter to him, but witnessing hers…” He didn’t have to complete the petrifying scheme. He salaciously licked his dry lips, envisioning a sexual torment.
Kathy feared she would burst into screams or be sick. She did neither. She remained stiff and silent, bombarded with these revealed clues.
“I wonder when Marlowe’s going to tell Kathy that Landis Jurrell doesn’t exist. Mounties can’t marry, so he can’t have no future plans for her. Marlowe wouldn’t end his career for a woman, surely not one he’s used. When she hears the truth, she’ll be glad she hasn’t played his wife in bed. That little license isn’t worth the paper it’s written on. Open the safe and put these reports back,” he ordered. “Here, put this jewelry in, too.”
When Luther knelt before Soapy’s large desk, Kathy could see where the safe was cunningly concealed. Her face resting against the cold floor, she watched Luther release a hidden catch under the edge of the desk. A panel opened, revealing a small and sturdy safe.
Soapy announced, “I’m going across the street to see Tinsley. You take care of this matter, then keep an eye on Kathy.”
Soapy left as Luther began to work the combination. “Three times right to six…Two times left to twenty-eight…One time right to seventy-nine…” He pulled the door open and placed the jewelry and reports inside, then closed the door and twirled the lock. He snapped the wooden panel shut, then left.
Kathy remained where she was. She questioned this twist in fate. But the mind-staggering quirk was the combination which she could never forget. How could she? It was her date of birth: 6/28/79. Summoning her courage, she left her hiding place. She peeked around the corner of the office door. No one was in sight. She hurried to the girls’ private room, went inside and exhaled in relief when she found it empty. She went over to the bed and sat down, a bed used only for sickness during working hours. Soapy would permit a short rest, but not any time off to recuperate.
So many facts and clues were spinning around in her mind. Should she leave now and forget everything? Was it all some terrible mistake? Landis’s words kept running through her mind. It couldn’t be true…Was that the great “sacrifice” and “choice”, her or his Mounty career?
She deliberated on her perilous situation. The key to locking the door forever between her and Landis was now within her reach. Dare she risk using it? Landis hadn’t lied or exaggerated about one thing: Soapy was lethal and relentless. But if Soapy hadn’t lied, her life and love were cruel shams. How could she extricate herself from these dangers? Soapy would kill her if he suspected she knew such things; if her love was an undercover Mounty, Landis might, too…
Yet, the vision of being the one to hand that file over to Thomas was overpowering, temptation beyond resistence. Landis would discover she had daringly risked her life to end their involvement. She tried to imagine his expression and reaction to learning she had not only saved his file, but also his life. How would he explain his deeds? So, Landis Jurrell was really Clinton Marlowe…
America…Safety…No more terror, anguish, or sacrifices…No more traitorous love or self-betrayals…No rightful husband…
Home, that was the answer. There wasn’t time to think and plan. She must force herself outside and through her performance. She must act her normal self until help arrived. Jack, that was the only person she could trust. If Landis had tricked and used her and if he was a Mounty, Trace was in on those deceptions. That fact alone inspired a strange calmness and courage in Kathy, perhaps a defensive numbing to all emotions until she was on that huge steamer gliding down the Inside Passage to Seattle and freedom. She went to the mirror. She washed her face and brushed her hair. She pinched her pale cheeks to add color. She smoothed the lines of her gown and adjusted the rubies at her throat. She balled her left hand, wanting to snatch off the treacherous gold band. She walked out.
Luther was leaning against the wall. He straightened as she came out. “I was about to ask Molly to check on you, Miss Kathy. You feeling better?”
“Yes, Luther,” she murmured, deceiving him most convincingly.
Later in her own room, Kathy was a little apprehensive about her shutters being securely nailed shut. This town was constructed of wooden shacks and buildings which would burn like paper if there was a fire. She locked her door and shoved the chair under the door knob to add security. Soapy had placed a guard at each outside door; they were to watch all means of entrance during both day and night. Kathy might have appreciated this security if she hadn’t learned his motives and sinister nature! Now she felt trapped by Soapy, too.
Monday night, Ben Weathers showed up in Dawson. He was extremely worried about Kathy. Somehow, he had to get her out of this trouble. Landis had come by the cabin to explain matters, then left for Log Cabin on business. Ben frowned, recalling Landis’s words as he left, “I’m going to stop at each settlement between here and there. If Jake’s here—by damn, I’m going to locate him and make him get her out of Dawson! The irresponsible bastard’s going to get his own child killed looking for him!”
Kathy was already singing when Ben arrived. He sat down with some acquaintances to have a drink and to listen to her. She was really talented. So beautiful and innocent…trusting and vulnerable…She had received some painful blows in life, all undeserved.
He was talking with Hawkins, the engineer for the new railroad, and banker Dobbs. They conversed on how the railroad would benefit this area. Hawkins verbally fretted over the problems they would encounter with the local Indians and Eskimos, not to mention the staggering conditions and dangers his men would work under. Henry had planned the route, but Hawkins would be in charge of the actual work and crews.
When Hawkins laughingly mentioned Soapy’s hints about helping the Americans find men and money for the imminent war with Spain over the independence of Cuba, Ben said, “That should be interesting to witness, considering Smith’s wanted on criminal charges in several states. He’s so sly and stubborn, he might pull it off. That’s one way to earn a pardon.”
“Any news about that conflict, Ben?” Dobbs inquired.
“A couple of tenderfeet told me it looked like war. Trouble’s been brewing for years. McKinley and Alger sent an American warship into the Havana port; they were hoping to prevent the loss of American lives and property. The last news was that the Spanish sank the ship and killed everyone aboard, with over two hundred men lost. He said it happened early February. From what I understood, the Senate’s meeting this month to decide its course of retaliation. I might be encouraged to go home if it comes to war,” he somberly hinted, knowing he would have work to do. Why was his timing always wrong, controlled by dire fate?
As Kathy left the stage, she saw Ben. She walked over to him, wondering if even he could be trusted. Ben stood up and smiled fondly. “I haven’t seen you in ages,” she told him.
“How could I go all winter without seeing you?” he playfully responded, perceiving a n
ewborn reserve and wariness in his daughter.
“You having good luck this year?” she asked.
“My luck could definitely be better,” he confessed gravely.
“Mine is improving every day,” she murmured sadly.
“How’s that, Kathryn?” he pressed.
“I’m leaving in a week. I’m going home to America.”
“Where will you go after you arrive?” he questioned.
“I’m not sure yet. Someplace warm and safe,” she added.
“I’d like to write you once in a while, Kathryn, just to see how you’re doing,” he hinted, needing to know where she’d be.
“When I get settled, if I ever do, I’ll write you,” she vowed.
“Just send it to Mrs. Pullen and I’ll pick it up when I’m in Skagway,” he suggested. “You don’t seem awfully excited about going home,” he remarked.
“I don’t have a home anymore. My mother sold our house before we started searching for my father. I’ll decide what to do later. I guess that’s the good thing about a new life; you can start from scratch.”
“You’ve had a rough time here, haven’t you?” he queried. A look of haunting sadness filled her eyes. “It won’t be so awful next year. I hear from newcomers that the American Congress has finally taken notice of us. They’re working on laws now, including a homestead law. That should bring families here, instead of just countless men and fleeing criminals. It sounds like the Mounties will soon receive help from our side.”
“Mounties,” she repeated distantly.
“Something wrong, Kathy?” he gingerly probed to draw her out.
“No, Ben,” she said unconvincingly.
“Has Landis been in lately?” he asked.
Her eyes seemed to freeze into chips of blue ice. “No.”
To see how she was faring in her futile search for him, her father, Ben asked about it. Kathy’s eyes darkened with resentment as she told him exactly what she felt about her traitorous and selfish father. She added that her quest was over, that she didn’t care about ever finding him anymore.
Golden Torment Page 47