Dray was standing at the locked door with a rifle. He coldly sneered, “Your men can’t help you. We leave with Kathy, or you’re a dead man!”
“I stole your blasted file, Smith; so I know you’re aware of who and what I am,” Clint lied most convincingly. “If you think to trade Kathy for the file, you best forget it. We have all the evidence we need on you. Give me Kathy, and I’ll look the other way while you escape,” he bargained.
“I don’t trust you,” Smith scoffed. “Besides, I don’t have her.”
“But you know who does,” Clint countered. “You have my word.”
“And Mounties never lie, right?” he contemptuously spat. “I doubt Mrs. Landis Jurrell believes that honesty crap!” he scoffed.
Clint drew back his balled fist. He was about to beat Smith mindless if he didn’t confess.
“All right!” Smith screamed in cowardice. “Slavin has her! He was going to get my file back for a tidy sum.”
“Where is she?” Clint demanded, fear chewing viciously at his gut.
“I don’t know! Slavin went after her. I haven’t seen her.”
Jake yanked his head back again, placing a sharp knife at his throat. “One more lie, Smith, and you’ve bought it!”
Smith struggled to speak without nicking his neck. “He…was taking her to…Domino’s cabin…near Whitehorse. She’s…probably still alive. I was…to question…her first.”
“If she isn’t, you’ll answer to us. You can’t run far enough or fast enough if she’s met with harm,” Clint warned ominously.
They decided to deal with Smith later; force and time were essential. It was late Friday afternoon when they shoved the boat into the chaotic water to head for Whitehorse, ignorant they had actually passed within a mile of Kathy and Slavin along the trail…
Shortly before noon, another event was taking place far to the south. Marc had been forcing Kathy on since the wee hours of Wednesday morning. Her hands were tightly bound behind her back, restricting their circulation. He had allowed her little rest and privacy, constantly pushing her on through dark and light, his energy coming from hatred and spite.
Each time she had balked at their murderous pace, he had threatened to shove her over the steep precipice to certain death. Kathy knew as long as she remained alive, there was hope for escape or rescue. She compelled herself forward until she thought she would pass out from exhaustion and fear. Marc gave her only enough food and water to keep her alive and walking.
On several occasions, he had roughed her up, relishing her discomfort and terror. But he shrewdly restrained his violence, holding himself in check until they reached their final destination. Then, he promised himself she would pay dearly for his downfall!
Her hands had been untied only twice. She didn’t expect rape yet; she knew he was anticipating another place for her torment. By noon Friday, she was too weary to care any longer. He was going to kill her, so what difference did anything make? They had passed many prospectors, but Marc had noticed them first and concealed their presence. It was hopeless.
Kathy ached all over. She was laboring to breathe. Her throat and lips were parched. She was utterly dejected. Even fear no longer pushed her onward. Her hands were numb and her feet refused to take another arduous step. This experience, added atop others, sapped her strength and will.
She sank to her knees, her action yanking the rope in his hand. He whirled and jerked on the leash around her waist. She fell to the slushy ground. Slavin came back to her and painfully seized her shoulders, forcefully bringing her back to her throbbing feet.
“Get up, you bitch! Start moving or I’ll kill you!” he snarled.
“Then kill me,” she weakly told him. “I can’t go on this way. I’ve got to rest. I need some water.”
“You’ll rest and get water when we get to Domino’s! Get up!”
“I can’t,” she faintly refused, unable to obey.
He backhanded her across her pale cheek, planting a livid print there. Blood eased from the corner of her lip. She fell backwards into the gooey mush. She curled to her side, yielding to the stitch there. “I can’t,” she still refused his command, crying softly.
Slavin bent over her, aware she couldn’t move on. He cursed her and kicked at her, bruising her shoulder. “Then rest for five minutes! No more!”
He stalked away. Suddenly Kathy was aware of thunderous voices. She struggled to sit up, seeing two burly lumberjacks hurrying toward them.
Slavin shouted, “Halt there! Come any closer and she’s dead!”
Kathy’s gaze flew to Slavin; he was holding a gun pointed at her. She glanced over at the lumberjacks—Mike and Danny—as she struggled to her knees. “He’s going to kill me anyway. Better here than later. If you let him take me, he’s planning to torture me first,” she told them, swaying precariously.
Mike was straining from cautiously leashed fury. Danny was alarmed. “Let her go, Slavin. We’ll kill you first,” Mike called his bluff.
“No! She’s mine! I’ll kill her if you move,” he countermanded.
Mike and Danny glanced at each other. They began to slowly move toward Slavin. The frenzied man saw his victory escaping. He fired at Kathy, shouting insanely, “Die, you witch!”
The bullet struck home. Kathy screamed in pain and shock. She was thrown backwards, bright red blood flowing into the melting snow to pool together. She didn’t move again.
With a shriek of thunderous rage, both men surged toward Slavin before he could get off another shot. As Slavin retreated, a horrified scream tore from his throat as he plunged over the jagged escarpment behind him. His body was tossed about as it yielded to gravity. It crashed into the icy edge of the river and was instantly swept under by the powerful current, never to see another day.
Mike raced to Kathy. He gasped in alarm as he saw the bloody pool forming near her left side. He hurriedly cut her bonds, roughly massaging her hands to restore their circulation. With Danny’s help, he removed her parka. He ripped a bandage from her shirt tail and wound it tightly around her left arm. There was so much blood, and she was so ashen.
He shook her and called her name. No response. He picked her up and headed to their lumber wagon. Mike held her gently in his strong arms as Danny drove the wagon wildly to Skagway and the doctor. They luckily met up with Trace Blitch, hesitating only briefly to enlighten him, then hastily continued their desperate journey.
Trace urged his horse forward, heading to warn Clint. It was late Friday evening before Kathy arrived in Skagway. She was taken to her cabin by Mike, while Danny raced to find the doctor. Harriet and Griff surged forward to check on her. Mike quickly related their rescue.
When the doctor arrived, everyone was sent out except Harriet. Kathy was undressed down to her chemise. The doctor examined the wound, instantly noting the bullet had passed clear through her upper arm. He tested for a break, finding none. Evidently the excessive bleeding was from a severed blood vessel. He placed medicine on the injury, after carefully cleansing it, then bound it tightly to halt the flow of blood.
Kathy was exceedingly pale and weak. The doctor worked on the smaller cut and blackened bruise on her forehead, clearly an older injury. He checked her arms, legs, and ribs for breaks, relieved to find none. Then he placed ointment on several minor abrasions and tested other bruises.
When Harriet continued to press him for information on her condition, he finally halted his work to answer her. “She’s suffering from shock and exhaustion. The bullet wound should heal nicely. She’s lost some blood. I can’t detect any broken bones. She’ll need hot food and plenty of rest.”
Kathy began to stir and moan. Her lids moved and her eyes opened slowly. She was briefly confused by her surroundings. Harriet fretted over her. Gradually the whole petrifying episode returned. When Kathy asked about Slavin, Harriet explained what happened after she was shot.
Kathy never commented on Slavin’s death. Harriet hurried on to explain that Dray and Landis had gone after her
Wednesday morning, telling Kathy how frantic they were before heading out to Dawson.
“Dawson?” Kathy weakly echoed.
“They thought Smith was behind this,” Harriet clarified.
“He was,” Kathy informed her.
“They’re so worried. I hope they get here soon to see you’re all right.”
“I hope not,” Kathy countered, assuming Landis was only feeling guilty. If they were in the North County, perhaps she could still leave before their return! She prayed her father wouldn’t hear about this trouble and come to see her as Ben. Their guilt didn’t concern her! She didn’t have the strength or frame of mind to battle either man.
Harriet was surprised by her coldness. Yet, Kathy was in no shape to be troubled with questions. The doctor asked about any pains or discomforts. Kathy moved this way and that, replying to each query. When he was satisfied, he told her he would return in the morning to change the bandage. He warned her to stay in bed and to avoid any unnecessary movements.
After he left, Harriet told her she was going to get some hot soup and coffee and let Kathy know Griff would be on guard outside. Kathy smiled and thanked her, confessing to her great hunger and thirst. Harriet gingerly helped her into one of her gowns, then tucked her in like a child. Harriet fondly patted her hand and left, still in the dark about Landis and Jake.
Griff stuck his head inside as Harriet left. He grinned affectionately and stated, “You rest, Miss Kathy; Griff’s right here.”
“Griff?” she called. He halted and glanced back at her, his gaze expectant. “Please don’t allow anyone to come in, except Harriet and the doctor.” When he nodded understanding, she clarified softly, “Please don’t let the Mounties or Landis enter this cabin.”
Griff looked confused, but agreed. He closed the door. Kathy’s face sank into the feather pillow, allowing the salving tears to flow freely. She had to rest and eat; she had to be strong enough to get on the next ship! There was Clint and Jake. Slavin was dead, but the insidious Smith wasn’t…
Harriet returned with the soup and coffee and remained until every drop was gone. She cautioned herself against asking any distressing questions about anything or anyone. She smiled encouragingly at Kathy before leaving. “I’ll bring you a hot breakfast in the morning. If you need anything, send for me. The doctor left some medicine for pain on the table. He said it would make you sleepy. Do you need any now?”
Kathy nodded. “It’s throbbing some, but I really need the sleep more than anything.” She needed escape from her own mind and heart.
Harriet spooned it out and placed it in her mouth. Kathy swallowed then remarked playfully, “I’m not sure whether to call you Mother or Nurse. Thanks, Harriet, my good and loyal friend.”
Within a short time, Kathy was sound asleep. Harriet checked back later, but didn’t disturb her. She told Griff to please keep an eye on her. He grinned and promised he would.
Kathy was pampered all day Saturday. Harriet and Griff had difficulty turning away her anxious friends. Mike brought her a small bunch of bright spring flowers he had found during his working day. The other lumberjacks were eager for news of her condition; they didn’t seem satisfied by words passed along. They wanted to see for themselves if she was all right. Only Moore and Mike were allowed inside her cabin, telling others she needed to conserve her strength.
Kathy sent messages to the others through Moore and Harriet. When Mike came, she asked Griff to let him inside. She thanked him for saving her life, something done too often in this vast and perilous wilderness. When he told her about meeting Trace along the trail and his intentions, she whitened noticably. When Mike questioned her reaction, she told him she was simply tired and needed to rest.
Griff was the one who accidentally told Kathy a steamer was sailing into the canal. She perked up immediately and told him to fetch the doctor. He did, worrying over her curious excitement.
When the doctor arrived, Kathy came right to the point, “Will I be able to sail tomorrow? The voyage is long; I’ll have plenty of time to recuperate.”
“You’re still weak, Mrs. Jurrell. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal. You need rest and care. What about your arm? What about your husband?”
“There’s a doctor aboard. I’ll have meals sent to my cabin. I’ll get lots of rest. I’m going,” she firmly stated as he helplessly shook his head.
“I strongly advise against it, but I can’t stop you,” he murmured sternly against her determination and foolishness.
“Will the voyage kill me?” she asked.
“Certainly not,” he promptly stated.
“Good! Then I’ll be on that ship in the morning.”
He observed the defiant jut of her chin and the rebellion flashing in her eyes. “It sails Monday; tomorrow’s Sunday,” he smugly announced.
“Are you positive?” she debated, suspecting even the doctor of trickery.
“Yes, Mrs. Jurrell. The captain told me himself.”
“Excellent. That gives you one more day to see me to good health,” she teased to lighten the tension.
“The captain’s obviously a friend of yours; he came ashore to check on you and Mrs. Pullen,” he remarked.
“Captain Shurling?” she asked.
“Yes, that was his name. He was most upset to learn of your accident and Mr. Slavin’s death. He sent his best wishes.”
The moment he left, Kathy called Griff inside. She sent him to see Captain Cyrus Shurling about her return passage. In view of his part in her troubles, he agreed to take her home Monday when his ship sailed. Since her last voyage aboard the Victoria, he had been more careful in his crew selection. That was wise, as more and more females—a mixture of wives, daughters, sweethearts and hopeful brides—were coming to the territory.
Kathy told everyone goodbye Sunday, since she was leaving early and some would be gone to the timberline. Harriet helped her bathe and prepare for bed, trying one last time to change Kathy’s mind—but she couldn’t.
Trace was pacing impatiently before Domino’s cabin Sunday morning when Clint and the others came riding up to him. He was only mildly surprised to see Clint in his uniform. The men hurriedly dismounted. Trace walked toward them to relate his news.
Clint asked fearfully, “Why are you here, Trace? Is Kathy…dead?” he could hardly force the word from his lips.
“Wounded. I waited here because I knew you would pass this way. Domino was kind enough to let me hang around,” Trace said.
“Kind, my ass!” Jake thundered. “Smith told us Slavin was bringing her here. Was she hurt badly? Is she inside with that beast?”
“You mean Domino’s in on this scheme?” Trace exploded.
“Evidently Kathy didn’t know or she would have told you.”
“She was unconscious when I saw her. Mike and Danny rescued her; they carried her to Skagway. Slavin’s dead,” he announced.
“You mean she isn’t here?” Clint wailed in agonized disbelief, feeling hindered and thwarted at every turn.
Trace told all he knew. Clint and Jake both sighed in relief. Wounded on Friday, she couldn’t be gone Sunday. Pushing themselves, they couldn’t make Skagway before Monday. She couldn’t be ready to leave before their arrival, but they didn’t want to chance her determination to get away.
Trace lingered to arrest Domino as the others rapidly left. All three men were tense and worried. They allowed brief periods to rest the horses and to catch a quick nap, riding in stony silence, wondering what to say.
The Victoria issued bellowing blasts, indicating she would be sailing soon. Kathy stretched out across her cabin bunk, her good arm resting over her eyes. She was safely aboard the ship, out of their reach. She was weary from her exertions; her arm ached, refreshing her memory of her horrible ordeal. How strange she was leaving this land in windy April on the same ship which had brought her here early last September.
Shurling had been overly kind to make amends. She had paid him well to guard her privacy. She was plagued
by September’s golden dreams and April’s stygian torments: all born and nourished in this wild frontier where men would give their souls to strike it rich, where honor didn’t exist.
Kathy recalled the letter Harriet had pressed into her hands as she stepped into the boat with Griff. Ben had made Harriet promise to give it to Kathy only as she was leaving for good. Not wishing to inspire questions, Kathy had accepted the letter and stuffed it into her bag to read later.
She wondered if she should open it and risk slicing her heart anew. Jake had placed the letter in Harriet’s safekeeping for such a moment. Did it finally reveal the truth? Could she face what might be written there? No, not yet. Perhaps she would destroy the letter without reading it…
She jumped as the horns blasted their signal to leave. She wept for what was, what had been, and what was to be…
The men rode into Skagway. Noticing friends standing near the shore, they headed to them. “Where’s Kathy? How is she?” Clint spoke up first.
“Is she all right, Mrs. Pullen?” Jake anxiously inquired.
“I’m going to her cabin,” Clint said, sliding out of his saddle.
Harriet and the others were staring at Landis in the splendid Mounty uniform. Harriet called out, “She isn’t here; she’s on that ship.”
Clint whirled and glared at it. He and Jake exchanged probing looks. “Let’s go, Jake,” Clint said hurriedly.
“Jake?” Harriet echoed, staring at Ben Weathers.
“This is Jake Hammond, and I’m Sergeant Clinton Marlowe, Mrs. Pullen. We’ll explain later. We’ve got to stop Kathy.”
With Dray trying to explain, Clint and Jake borrowed Griff’s boat and headed for the ship. Clint shouted to the baffled Shurling that he needed to come aboard; Shurling couldn’t refuse a Mounty. He nimbly climbed the rope which had been tossed over to him. He asked Shurling where Kathryn Jurrell was. The captain studied him a moment. Clint snapped impatiently, “You can’t sail until I’ve talked with her. This is official business. Where is she?”
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