“It’ll only be the one, Callie. We’ll make certain everything is closed up tight, nice and secure. Most nights nothing happens anyway.”
But what if Perkins sees me in town? Callie couldn’t use that logical argument since she hadn’t told Clara about Perkins’s foray and their confrontation the week before. She searched for another reason. “What about the distance?” she asked. “Have you ever walked fifteen miles before? We only have the pony to draw the goods to town. He’s not for riding.”
Timidity softened Clara’s adamancy. “Not exactly.” She rolled her eyes, the Valkyrie returning on swift wings. “But I’m not a weakling, Callie Glass, and don’t you forget it!”
Startled, Callie again held her hands up to ward off attack. “I won’t! I didn’t mean—”
“See that you don’t.” Clara crossed her arms over her chest, obstinacy in every line.
Callie sighed, whether in relief or consternation she couldn’t tell. The one thing she’d learned from Clara over the course of her stay was that Callie knew absolutely nothing about women in general. “All right, I’ll concede that I need to go into town every so often. And I’ll concede that you can take care of yourself well enough to come along.”
Clara smiled, chin raised.
She’s so pretty when she smiles. Mentally shaking her head, Callie forced herself to focus on the conversation. “But I ain’t going to some soiree, and that’s final! If it’s going to be a big party and all, I can guarantee you that the town leaders will be attending. Look at me.” She held her arms wide, inviting a thorough examination as she looked down her body. She wore rough spun pants with patches in the knees and crotch, scuffed dusty boots and a threadbare shirt. “Nobody wants to see me like this.”
“I could make you a dress,” Clara offered in a cautious tone.
“A dress? Hell, no!” Callie sneered. “I ain’t been in a dress in forever, and that’s not going to change. I like my trousers just fine, thank you.” Clara bowed her head, and Callie felt sheepish and sorrowful over her outburst. She felt her shoulders sag, fighting the urge to leap forward and apologize.
Clara spoke to the table. “You still have Jasper’s clothes, and I can sew. I could adapt some of his better clothing to suit you.” She glanced quickly up to measure Callie’s reaction before dropping her gaze again. “I know he has one suit that’s in good condition. And I’ve material enough at least for a new shirt.”
Callie scowled, unable to devise a valid counterargument. She needed to go to town to trade. Clara seemed to feel the need as well, especially with a talent show in the offing. Callie felt more than heard the grumble in her throat. Damn Daryl McKenzie!
With an explosive sigh, she threw hands into the air, and dropped them to her sides. “Fine! We’ll spend tomorrow preparing and leave day after tomorrow after breakfast.”
Clara’s eyes sparkled, their color almost a turquoise blue, as she finally looked at Callie, with a brilliant smile. “Truly?”
Despite her personal consternation, Callie felt her lips twitch in an answering grin, wondering why she even cared. “Truly.” She pointed a finger at her. “But if there isn’t a room available in town, we turn right around and come back.”
“Of course!” Clara nodded emphatically, unable to stifle her happiness with an expression of earnest accord. “Of course.” She fairly trembled with excitement for a brief moment before closing the distance between them. “Oh, thank you, Callie! We’ll have so much fun, I promise!”
Callie returned the embrace without the hesitation she’d shown at first. Clara was a demonstrative woman, and Callie was becoming used to the constant touches and hugs. At first the affectionate displays had made her feel uncomfortable—she and Jasper had never had such a relationship. It was different with Clara though; Callie couldn’t figure out how that was so.
She relaxed into Clara’s arms, and soaked in the physical touch, a part of her warming to the expression of friendship she’d never experienced before.
Chapter Eleven
The morning of their outing came much faster than Callie had hoped despite her private merriment over Clara’s anticipation. The previous day had gone by in a flurry of activity as Clara flitted about the cabin and yard—sewing, packing, washing, packing, making dinner and packing. Callie couldn’t recall ever needing so much preparation for a trip into Skagway, but any attempt to dissuade Clara had been met with resounding disapproval.
Callie stomped alongside the packhorse, uncomfortable in her stiff new shirt and what had once been Jasper’s trousers. Clara walked beside her, discussing the scenery and wildlife that they passed along the main trail to Skagway, her musical voice an excited burble in counterpoint to birdsong and creaking trees.
Rather than focus on personal insecurities that seemed to grow into epic proportions as they neared their destination, Callie distracted herself with admiration for Clara’s skills as a seamstress. There was no way Callie could have altered Jasper’s clothes to suit her smaller frame, not with any decent results. Yet Clara had done so in less than a day. While Callie had spent yesterday sorting through the hides and meat in the smokehouse, Clara had kept busy on the porch with a flashing needle and thread. It had been the only time Callie had seen her seated except at meals. Clara had done a fine job with her straight and even stitches. The cut of the pants and the design of the shirt somehow made Callie look less like a woman swimming in men’s clothes and more like the outfit had been designed for her.
Callie had spent years hiding inside men’s clothes. She felt a little out of place at the way these fit, tight in places they shouldn’t be and loose in areas she’d grown used to chafing. She was nervous about how people would perceive her now. Did she look more like a weak woman than she had before or did the new clothes portray her as stronger and more confident? Jasper had never invested in a full-length mirror for the cabin; neither Glass had been vain enough to need more than the little shaving mirror he’d owned. Regardless, Callie didn’t look forward to the reaction from the Skagway townsfolk. She hadn’t been completely vilified in Skagway since she’d arrived, but most folks found her odd. She’d seen it in their eyes, in the way they’d whisper to one another after she’d passed. Only the lowlifes and roustabouts spoke aloud their negative opinions of her, but the rest were just as judgmental, maybe more so. She was sure of that.
“Oh! We’re almost there!” Clara laughed, distracting Callie from her intellectual malaise by squeezing her arm.
A bolt of terror caused Callie’s heart to leap into her throat. They’d reached a rise in the trail. Below and to the east across the inlet was Skagway. It nestled between two juts of land, an aggregation of buildings, outbuildings and tents covered by a layer of hazy smoke from a multitude of cook fires. Though she and Clara were still more than two miles away as the crow flew, sound spilled from the small harbor town, discernible even at this distance—the low rumble of hundreds of voices in conversation, the industrious sounds of chopping wood and hammering and barking dogs; the ringing of blacksmith’s anvils, the creaking of ropes from the ships in the harbor and the continuous splash of ocean water against the mud flats. The sights and sounds were accompanied by smells. Callie’s sharp inhalation stung her nose with the odor of wood smoke, wet fur and an aroma that only occurred when hundreds of unwashed humans gathered.
Clara’s grip was the only thing that kept Callie along the trail. The sound of her blood pounding in her veins eventually faded, to be replaced by Clara’s excited and entirely one-sided conversation in regards to the hotel room they would rent, the purchases she had in mind and speculation over what talents would be on stage that evening. Callie let her ramble, glad for the inattention as she gathered her courage for the ordeal to come.
An hour later Callie’s nerves were no better, but at least she wasn’t a complete wreck as they entered Skagway.
“Why haven’t you purchased a boat?”
“What?” Callie blinked at Clara. “A boat? Why would I buy a b
oat?”
Clara gestured back the way they’d come. “We’ve gone, what…five miles out of our way as we skirted the water to reach Skagway? If you had a boat, you could row your goods right down the inlet to town. A boat would lessen your transit time. We’d have been here long ago.”
Callie’s mouth stood open as she searched for something to say. Why hadn’t they ever thought of that? Jasper had complained at least once a month about the inconvenience of passing Skagway on the west bank of the Taiya Inlet to circle through Dyea and back in order to reach town. She wondered how much a boat would cost and how she could get it and the horse and sledge home.
Clara tapped Callie on the nose, ignoring her startled flinch. “Something to think about.” She promptly continued down the street.
Rubbing her nose, Callie followed with a thoughtful frown.
The noise of human habitation was frightful as it enveloped them. Now they made out distinct voices—drunken arguments, barroom poker games and hawkers selling everything from gold mining equipment to the latest scientifically improved medical elixir. Women’s laughter drew Callie’s focus as they passed a whorehouse. She stared in speculative fascination at the three women in nothing more than their bloomers as they lounged on a second floor balcony. One of them smiled knowingly at her and blew her a kiss. Her face burned and she quickly turned away. She heard the women laugh and felt their eyes upon her back.
“To whom do you deliver your hides?” Clara studied Callie. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine!” Cursing her light skin, Callie scowled and rubbed her face before she answered Clara’s first question. “We go to Hansen’s. It’s up another two blocks and left.”
Clara cocked her head, eyes narrowed as she studied Callie. The close examination didn’t appease Callie’s blush, and she felt the heat of it grow along her chest and throat and neck. Clara glanced behind them, as if searching for the cause of Callie’s abashment. Panic flashed through Callie’s chest. She and Jasper had never discussed her unnatural attraction to women with the exception of her informing her brother that she would never marry and why. She’d yet to mention her deviant ways to Clara however, perversely not wanting to drive her away despite not wanting her at the homestead in the first place. What would she do when she discovered Callie’s aberration?
Before Clara could make the connection between Callie’s shameful secret and the teasing whores, Callie urged the packhorse forward. “Come on! Time’s a ’wasting.” Clara hustled to catch up a few steps later. Callie breathed a sigh of relief at a disaster narrowly averted.
* * *
Clara happily strode along beside Callie, the bustle of activity a balm to her soul. The solitude of life at the Glass cabin was equally as satisfying, but she’d definitely missed people with their bounty of characteristics and foibles. She held no illusions that she wanted to reside in town—she preferred the isolation of the cabin to this uproar—but the occasional visit was a nice reminder that humanity marched forward.
Besides, there’s so much to see and explore! As they pushed through the crowd of people, she noted multiple transactions as men bought and sold goods. Though it had only been two weeks since her first visit, the town seemed so different from what she remembered. The smell of fresh-cut wood permeated Main Street, and she noted at least three new buildings that had been erected since her first visit. Another hotel had opened, along with a new saloon and what appeared to be a telegraph office. Skagway boasts a telegraph? It seemed civilization had indeed arrived in this wilderness.
A faint stink, acrid and metallic, grew stronger as Callie led Clara to a building that was part wooden structure and part tent. A sign nailed to a post indicated that this was Hansen’s Butchery. Rough-hewn trestle tables held mounds of meat as a heavyset man wielded several knives, slicing and dressing his goods for his customers. Doors had been thrown wide, and Clara saw several piles of furs inside with a number of unrefined men picking through them.
Callie pulled her sledge alongside of the establishment, tying the packhorse to a post. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Clara nodded, clasping her hands before her as Callie disappeared into the tented section of the business. She watched the activity around her with avid interest, her imagination wild with stories for every person who caught her eye. Her nose wrinkled at the heavy copper smell of blood and the scent of tannin, but she didn’t complain. There was too much to see and hear, distracting her from her fleeting discomfort.
A burly older man escorted Callie back outside. He wore a heavily stained leather apron over his shirtless torso, and his voice was the sound of gravel. “I was beginning to wonder when you didn’t show last week.”
Callie shrugged, her cheeks red. “I was busy at the homestead.”
The man nodded, preparing to continue the conversation until he caught sight of Clara beside the sledge. “And who’s this then?”
“This is Miss Clara Stapleton.” Callie scratched the back of her neck. “She’s been staying at my place.”
“I can see why you’ve been busy.” The man pushed past Callie and held out his hand. “Malcolm Hansen at your service.”
Callie’s blush reached imposing colors as Clara smiled and accepted Hansen’s hand. She wondered why Callie seemed out of sorts, but Hansen’s presence prevented her from asking questions. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Darling, the pleasure is most certainly all mine.” His grin was snaggle-toothed. He kissed her knuckles, scratching her skin with his bushy brown beard. “And what brought you to the Glass homestead?”
Clara’s smile faded. “My intention was to marry Jasper Glass, sir.”
Hansen’s face also fell. A brief but awkward moment drew out over the trio. His glance flickered to Callie who had turned away to stare over at a crowd of men near a saloon. “Then you have my most sincere condolences, Miss Stapleton.”
“Thank you, sir. They are most welcome and appreciated.” Clara rewarded him with a small smile as she retrieved her hand.
After a respectful moment, Hansen turned to Callie. “Well, Cal, what do you have for me today?”
With an almost relieved air, Callie unlashed the ropes holding the canvas tarp over her goods.
Clara watched and listened as the two dickered back and forth over the meats and furs, noting the range of prices they discussed. She glanced toward the front of the building where the worker sold the meat to customers. The boards with posted prices were within easy view. She frowned as she did the math in her head.
“Three hundred,” Callie said as Clara returned to the negotiation. “And six fifty for the furs.”
Hansen made a show of sniffing the hides. “I don’t know, Callie. Do you smell mold here? Maybe if you’d arrived last week, but I just got a delivery in from Weller yesterday. I don’t know that I’ll be able to sell half this before it goes bad.”
Clara stepped forward and cleared her throat. “If that’s the case, why are you charging so much for beaver and fox pelts?”
Boggled by her interruption, they both stared at her before Hansen spoke. “I beg your pardon?”
“Beaver and fox pelts.” Clara waved at the clearly visible board with its prices. “You’re asking top dollar for them, but you don’t think our furs are worth six hundred fifty dollars? You wouldn’t ask for or receive so much if you had overstock.” She made a show of sniffing the hides on the sledge. “And I don’t smell a bit of mold here. Smoke maybe; we keep them in the smokehouse back home.”
Hansen opened his mouth and then closed it. He and Callie shared a baffled look before he smiled. “It appears you’ve brought a ringer, Callie.”
“I reckon so,” Callie mumbled back, staring at Clara.
Clara preened under Hansen’s rueful regard. “I’m quite good at arithmetic.”
“I’ll say.” Hansen grinned despite himself. “All right, you’ve got me as far as beaver and fox pelts. I’ll give you that.” He smoothed out the length of his bear
d as he considered. “Five fifty for the pelts and two fifty for the meat.”
Callie blinked with unexpected satisfaction. “That’d be fine.”
Hansen nodded. “I’ll send Ervin out to unload your sledge.”
As he went back inside, Callie stared. Clara closed the distance. “Did we do well?”
“Are you kidding?” Callie gaped at her. “I didn’t expect to get half that! Jasper always did the better bargaining. I can’t talk terms for anything.”
Pleased, Clara hugged Callie, releasing her when two men, one of whom was presumably Ervin, exited the tent to begin unloading the goods.
Hansen called them inside. He carefully counted out the money and handed it to Callie. “There you go, eight hundred dollars.”
Clara almost laughed as Callie thanked him and pocketed the cash, chest puffed out and pleasure.
“You’re welcome.” He hooked a thumb at Clara. “And I suggest you bring her to town more often. Cain’t find many folks who understand money and bargaining like that.”
Callie grinned. “I will.”
Her resolve warmed Clara’s heart. Finally she’d found something worthy to offer Callie, something the younger Glass couldn’t do for herself. It was more and more likely that Clara had found her new home.
They made their goodbyes and left the business. Hansen’s men had made short work of their task, and Callie unhitched the packhorse from the post. “Where to now?”
“How about finding a hotel and stable?” Clara scanned the immediate vicinity. “And a restaurant. Bargaining has made me peckish.”
“I’m a mite hungry as well.”
“Excellent! I think we passed a new hotel on our way here. No doubt they’ll have a room.” Clara basked in Callie’s good humor, noting how her pleasure seemed to brighten everything about her. Callie was a pretty woman, with an upturned nose dusted in freckles, and her smile accentuated her fine features. Her golden hair was tied back, but Clara had realized she liked seeing it about her shoulders. She hadn’t been able to convince Callie to allow her to brush it yet, but she held out hope that she’d eventually wear Callie down. Enchanted, she walked beside Callie as they searched for a likely establishment to eat and rest before tonight’s show.
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