Jenna Kernan

by Gold Rush Groom

  Jack’s tunnel looked larger than the others she had seen from the river, large enough to use a wheelbarrow instead of a bucket to clear the material and high enough to stand in. Lily had feared she’d have to crawl.

  “You must have been lighting fires day and night.”

  Jack smiled. “Not exactly.”

  He led her by lantern into his mine shaft.

  “Is it safe?” she asked.

  “The walls are frozen solid. See the ice?” He brought the light close to the side of the tunnel, pointing out the white crystals scattered through the gravel. “Can’t collapse,” he assured, pounding on the solid wall.

  As they descended, Jack indicated different layers of sand and gravel, rock and strata, whatever that was. It all looked like dirt to her, but he seemed greatly excited by the tiny differences in color and consistency. He’d kept a record of how many dollars per pan he’d extracted from the various levels and the numbers kept going up as they went down. They were up to sixteen dollars a pan when they hit the end of his tunnel.

  “How much farther down can you go?” she asked.

  “All the way to bedrock and then I’ll continue along, heading under the river. No matter where the gold came from or how long ago the ancient rivers deposited it, the placer gold can go no lower than bedrock. Might find some large nuggets down there.”

  Jack hung the lantern from a spike he’d driven into the wall of the tunnel. As he lifted the light she saw what he’d made out of the collection of metal and parts.

  “Is it a steam engine?” she asked, stepping closer to touch the round boiler he had riveted together. Impressive did not begin to cover it. She’d seen the boat he’d made, but this was truly marvelous. “But why have it down here? And where are the wheels?”

  Jack laughed. “No wheels. I place it, then fill it then use it.”

  “For digging?”

  “That I still have to do.”

  “Well don’t keep me guessing. What does it do, Jack?”

  “It’s a steam engine, as you said, but I use the steam to melt the ice and loosen the gravel. Then I only have to gather up the load and haul it up to my Long Tom and let the stream wash away the gravel.”

  Lily’s eyes widened. “That’s genius! All the mine owners will want one.”

  “I hope so. My next step is to gather investors and make more from this prototype. Then I’ll sell the engine with instruction on how to use it to best effect.” Jack waved his hands. “I patented it before leaving.”

  “You could sell them outright or take a percentage of all the mines that use your machine.”

  Jack cocked his head.

  “That’s a thought. But I’m still testing it. Perhaps, after I work out all the bugs. So you like it?”

  She hugged him in answer, gratified to feel his strong arms wrap around her once more.

  He didn’t release her, so she smiled up at him, basking in the close familiarity of his embrace. His grin made him look boyish. She wanted to kiss him, but she reined herself in.

  “I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks, partner.” He let her go and she had to stop herself from stepping back toward him as he moved to the machine.

  “You’ll make a fortune.” Her smile faltered as she realized that the faster he succeeded in regaining his wealth, the more quickly he would leave her behind. The realization took all the joy from her. Her shoulders sagged.

  “Come on.” He drew out a match. “Let me show you how it works.”

  Lily spent the next hour waiting for the water to boil and then for the steam pressure to build, but once he had the engine up to heat, it melted the ice from the gravel like hot water through cold butter. Jack manned a rubber hose, fixed with a nozzle that helped him control the steam flowing from the end.

  It was truly a wonder.

  Jack extracted a wheelbarrow full of material in a matter of minutes, then released the steam and doused the fire in the boiler. He wheeled the material up to the surface and then sent it through his Long Tom, concentrating the gravel to just the heaviest matter, while the rest washed through the riffles and back into the river. She kept a sharp eye out for nuggets as he tossed away the larger pieces of waste rock.

  After he had shoveled the last of the material into the box and let the water diverted from the stream wash over it, he slid a plank down across the top opening, shutting off the water. Lily helped him collect the sand and gravel that had survived the rush of water. The total barely filled his gold pan and she was disappointed to see no nuggets. He took the pan inside where he kept his washtub, right in the center of the ten-by-ten foot room. Nala appeared and then wandered out again, as he washed the concentrates free of sand. The gold seemed to grow before her eyes as the gravel fell into the catch basin. She plucked out the largest nugget, the size of an almond, and held it up toward the only light which streamed weakly through the open cabin door. The days were more and more overcast and she feared, though it was only September, that it might soon snow.

  Jack extracted and measured the nuggets that were coarse and ranged from the size of a grain of rice to one as large as her thumbnail. When he finished weighing the haul, the single pan came to $2.50 worth of gold. Lily beamed with pride.

  “Not folderol?” he asked.

  She giggled and shook her head. “Seems I am wrong on some infrequent occasions.”

  His hands were wet, his face streaked with dirt and he still made butterflies quiver in her belly. She needed to touch him so she removed her handkerchief, using it to wipe away the grit from his cheek.

  “If you’d have told me what it was, Jack, I’d have seen the point of it.”

  He captured her hand, staying it in midair. “Didn’t trust you then.”

  “And now?”

  “With my life.”

  He pressed his cheek to her hand, closing his eyes briefly as he rubbed his whiskered face over her palm, and then released her.

  Why did he hold her and then set her aside? Was it because he still wanted her, but cared just enough not to use her when his intentions had not changed? That thought stole all the joy from his touch.

  “Oh, Jack. It’s not been the same without you. Why don’t you come to my shows?”

  He stared in silence as she waited, hoping to hear what it was that made him look so grieved.

  “Once a week, Jack. It’s only a few hours. Come for Saturday night. Do promise you’ll come.”

  “I don’t think that’s wise.” He hesitated, opened his mouth to speak and then clamped it shut again. Finally he spoke. “Is everything all right with you—since we parted?”

  She nodded slowly, not understanding his odd expression, which looked like concern except for the tension in his jaw and the speculative lift of one brow.

  “Never thought to find Dawson to my liking, but it’s rugged and new, full of hope and promise. You needn’t worry about me. I’m fit and flourishing. I love it here.”

  “But that’s not what I meant. Is everything all right with you, since we…”

  And suddenly she understood. Heat flooded her face and neck as she realized he was asking her if she was with child. So that was what this was about, his guilty conscience. She wasn’t here to see his machine or give advice. That recognition hurt her more than his absence for she hated to be reduced to an obligation. No, she couldn’t stand that.

  She straightened, trying and failing to maintain a grip on her dignity. “You needn’t worry on that account.”

  In fact, she’d had her monthly courses already, they’d come with a pang of regret that confused her. Had she really wanted to carry a child that he would see as nothing but an obstacle, an unwelcome tether to a woman he wanted to leave behind?

  “There’s nothing holding you here. When you’re ready to go, I mean.”

  “I’m happy to hear it.” But he didn’t look happy, for he did not smile and his body remained taut with a palpable tension.

  She turned away to stare out the door of his c
abin to the yard where Nala gnawed on the end of a branch that was nearly as long as she was. How she wished she could love Jack as Nala did, without regret or shame.

  Lily wanted to curl in a ball, wrap herself inward and rock like a child in her mother’s arms.

  She heard him approach, but could not bear to turn about. It hurt too much to look at him and see the remorse in his eyes.

  Jack would hold her if she asked him to. He would comfort her and kiss her. He could take her up in those arms and she realized she’d let him, but she did not ask and he stopped before reaching her. She knew he still wanted her and she longed for him, but she had just enough pride not to ask and he had enough scruples not to use her as he had done.

  Lily should be grateful, instead of resenting his restraint. She glanced back again, finding him standing, torn between his needs and his aspirations.

  Well, she’d not make it easy for him.

  “Take me back to town, Jack.” She knew she had to go now or make an utter fool of herself.

  She stepped out into the open air, glad for the chill that cooled her heated cheeks.

  “Lily?” He rested a hand upon her shoulder.

  She glanced back, then slipped from beneath his gentle restraint. “I’ll be at the canoe with Nala.” Lily patted her thigh and called to her dog. “Come on, girl.”

  Her hound left her stick and trotted along as Lily made her way down the bank.

  Jack appeared a few moments later, holding the canoe as she climbed in. Nala leapt to the center and Jack pushed them clear of the bank. He paddled her home in silence.

  After an eternity, he drew up to the riverbank in Dawson, but did not get out. Lily stepped ashore and Nala leapt clear with her, but Jack called the dog back. It was the first word he’d uttered.

  She patted Nala. “Go on, girl.”

  Nala hopped back into the canoe’s center section and whined.

  Lily tried to keep the tears from betraying her, but was not certain she succeeded.

  “Lily?” Jack’s brows were lifted as if he did not know just what to make of her. At last he said, “I’ll come see you on Saturday night.” He waited and she made no reply. “If that’s all right with you.”

  Which would be worse, seeing him or not seeing him? She nodded her consent and left him, hurrying up the grassy incline to the muddy road, away from the man who tore her insides up like glass through soft clay.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The following Saturday, Lily peeked through the curtain again, looking for Jack. She could not keep herself from checking every few minutes. As her music started and the curtain was pulled, he still was not there. The crowd erupted in cheers as Lily scanned the corners for sight of him, desperate as a castaway searching for land. She forced a smile and began her songs, performing the dance steps she had added, feeling low-down and blue. The audience did not seem to notice her false face as she held out hope until the very last number.

  Still he didn’t appear.

  She called herself a fool as she gathered up her wrap and muff. But by slow degrees Lily’s hurt feelings dissolved into concern until she couldn’t shake the worry. He’d said he’d come and he hadn’t. Jack might have done her a bad turn, but he’d kept his word on every occasion but this one. She knew she should go back to her room and go to bed, instead of contemplating a trip upstream in the middle of the night. But she found herself gathering up her sacks of gold and offering one to Bill Connor, a stagehand and bouncer. He had a lazy eye and wide shoulders, perfect for digging, but on reaching Dawson, he’d found he had a morbid fear of closed spaces and so was unable to hire on with any of the mining operations.

  Bill was married to a pretty laundress named Babe, who Bill said made a fine living running her dirty water over a greased board to catch the gold dust that clung to their duds. Bill was smitten and Lily knew she’d not have to worry about any shenanigans when she was with him.

  She held up one of the pouches of gold she’d collected from the stage. “This is yours if you take me downriver to Bonanza Creek.”

  Bill asked no questions, but pocketed the bag. “I’ve got to tell Babe. She’ll be expecting me.”

  “Meet me at my place afterward.”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll walk you home, then go tell her.”

  Lily could not push down the feeling that something was wrong as they headed to Jack’s claim. The timing was bad and they had to make their way in darkness, as the sun now disappeared for twelve hours and would not be up until after seven the next morning. The miners who had not come to town were all asleep, so Bill paddled undetected past the claims that lined the narrow creek.

  Nala greeted Lily when she was still half a mile out. That she had wandered so far afield did nothing to ease Lily’s growing concern.

  Nala barked as Bill grounded the canoe and then hopped aboard before they continued on their way. Lily now urged Bill to greater speed as her worry turned to panic. It seemed to take hours to reach Jack’s claim. At last the bottom scraped mud. Nala leapt from the boat, barking and cutting back and forth. The minute Lily had her feet, her dog was pushing her along. Lily did not need the urging. She lifted her skirts and ran.

  “Jack!”

  She arrived at his empty cabin, breathless and with a burning stitch in her side.

  “Jack!”

  She called again, to no avail. Nala barked from the mouth of the tunnel and then disappeared into the darkness. Lily’s stomach dropped.

  “Bring the lantern,” she called to Bill.

  Together they entered the tunnel, but as Lily continued, the light did not. She turned back.

  “Bill?”

  “I can’t go down there, Lily. I’m sorry.”

  Why had she brought a man who was good for nothing belowground? She dashed back to snatch the lantern from him.

  “Wait here.” Lily left him, hurrying into the cold earth, holding Nala’s collar, pressing her fingers into the solid reassurance of her thick coat and warm skin. “Jack!”

  Her voice echoed off the icy corridor. Please let him be alive.

  Lily came to the steam engine and pressed a hand to the boiler. It was cold as the grave. Before her lay a pile of uncollected gravel. She fingered the dirt, finding it had not yet frozen solid. Hoisting the light she searched the ground, seeing the wall before her that marked the end of his work. Where was he, still back in town, at some other saloon or with some whore at the edge of town? Lily cursed herself for a fool.

  “Jack?” she whispered.

  Nala whined and began to dig as if in a rabbit hole. Lily stepped forward onto the pile of gravel. Something moved beneath her feet. Lily shrieked as she stumbled back. She lowered the lantern and saw that what she first thought to be a rock was Jack’s boot heel.

  Lily cried out, laying the lantern aside as she fell to her knees and began digging with Nala. After a moment she had exposed his leg. Her brain began to work now, the panic lifting.

  “Find his head, you fool,” she muttered.

  Lily recovered the lantern and climbed the pile of debris. From here she could see that by some miracle his shoulders and head were not buried.

  “Jack!” She ran to him, laying the lantern beside him and brushing back the gravel that covered his hair and neck.

  “Lil?” he whispered. “Knew you’d come.”

  She stroked his cheek. “What have you done to yourself?”

  “Pinned. Can’t move.”

  Sweet Mother of God, was he paralyzed? Her heart hammered as she called her dog and together they dug.

  “Bill! Get down here now!”

  He didn’t. She kept digging.

  “Go to the next claim,” she hollered. “Get help. There’s a man buried here.”

  “I’m going!” came the reply.

  Lily dug with her bare hands, scratching and clawing.

  The digging caused more gravel from the top of the pile to slide into the place of what Lily had removed. Gradually she gained ground.
She had part of Jack’s back exposed when she heard the voices. Nala left her and a moment later two lights bobbed down the tunnel.

  “What in the name of heaven?” said one, pausing at Jack’s machine.

  “Help me!” cried Lily.

  They set to work with shovels and cleared the gravel from on top then hauled Jack roughly from his self-made tomb.

  “Careful. He might have broken bones,” said Lily, but they already had him up.

  Jack’s clothing and body were caked with mud and grime, but he was free. His eyes fluttered shut as he went limp between the two rescuers, who each held one arm about their own shoulders. Lily shrieked and wrapped her arms about his middle. He didn’t rouse and his body was cold as ice, but the steady beat of his heart caused a wave of such relief she thought her own knees might give way.

  “We need to get him out, ma’am.”

  Lily released Jack and followed the men up the tunnel. Jack’s legs dragged along the ground. Lily broke out in a cold sweat, fearful he’d broken his spine. By the time they’d reached the mouth of the tunnel, his legs were working, but he still sagged heavily on his human crutches.

  Lily now preceded the men, directing them into the cabin, where they lay Jack out on his bed. Lily took charge. “Bill, get a doctor. Don’t come back without one.” She pointed at the men. “Clean water, you.” She pointed at the final man. “You, lift him up a bit, so I can strip him out of his clothing.”

  Jack groaned as she carefully peeled off the filthy attire. His skin was pale beneath his clothing and thankfully completely devoid of any blood, though his back and thighs showed large purple bruises. The first miner returned with a full pail, just as she finished wrapping Jack in her fur-lined cloak and his wool blanket.

  “I need a good fire to heat the water and warm him. Does he have a pot?”

  “He’s got a gold pan,” said the second. “That’s what I use for washing and vittles.”