Gold Rush Groom

chapter Eight





“Tomorrow,” Jack declared as if he had some power of divination.

“Are you mad? We’ll be the last to leave the shore and last into Dawson.”

“I’ve counted over six thousand boats here. That and the ice will make a pretty picture. I’ll not be taken down after coming this far and I won’t put you on the river in this.”

“But Jack—”

“Look.” He pointed toward the water.

Lily took her eyes from the flowing ice to stare in the direction he indicated. There was a shabby little vessel no bigger than a bathtub.

“Do you want to watch that man drown or have to stop to fish him out of the lake?”

He had a point. Lily had been so busy working in the hotel that she had not had a chance to see much of the boat construction, though she did keep close tabs on Jack’s progress.

He continued. “Plus those ice sheets could tear even a strong boat into pieces and pop holes in our hull like a child poking a finger through a paper wrapping.”

Lily watched five men push a squarish boat, loaded high with gear, off the muddy bank and onto the tumble of ice now thrusting onto the shore. They heaved and strained as the weight of the thing bogged down. Then, in what seemed only a blink of the eye to Lily, the ice shifted, tumbling from beneath one of the men, casting him into the lake. His friend tried to grab him but he disappeared between the ice sheets. The men on shore shouted and danced but none ventured onto the unstable ice to try to find him. He came up again in the fast-moving slurry of ice and water. Men dashed along the shore and finally got a rope around him, but in the meantime the boat rolled, throwing all their gear into the lake.

Lily felt her stomach pitch as she pictured all they owned being lost to the bottom of Lake Bennett. She turned to Jack. He did not seem pleased to be proven right, but rather saddened by the confirmation as he sighed heavily.

“They’re all mad,” she said.

He stared out at the insanity unfolding before them.

“I’ve built a strong boat. But I don’t know if anything can withstand that.” He motioned with his head toward the rushing water. “I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

She nodded, suddenly in complete agreement. “We’ll wait until you say so, Jack. I trust you.”

On impulse she reached out to hug him, thankful that he was so wise amid the chaos. But then she recalled the last time she had held him and hesitated, drawing back to leave him standing with his arms open to accept her. He let them fall to his sides and a small line formed between his brows.

They stared at each other in awkward silence as the water crashed behind them. She couldn’t warn him to stay clear of her and then throw herself back into his arms. It wasn’t fair to either of them. But she yearned for the comfort and protection he could provide and longed to listen to her heart, as it whispered words of hope, instead of doing what was wise by keeping clear of him.

She’d seen the look of surprise on his face when she’d asked him to leave her alone if he planned to abandon her in Dawson. He’d confirmed her fears without so much as a word. He had planned to do exactly that. After all they had endured together, it hurt that she meant so little to him. Still, she should not be surprised. That was the way of the world. Lily was a realist. Men like Jack did not take up with girls like her, at least not in public and never for the long haul. Fate had thrown them together, and all she could do was try to prevent herself from becoming nothing more to him than some shameful little secret.

Funny that she thought her chances better with the heaving ice floes in the lake than in Jack’s arms.



That afternoon Jack saw many more stampeders set off. In his mind he knew they should wait, but it was still hard to watch the others go. Huge floating blocks of ice bobbed along to the mouth of the lake where they piled up like rock candy on a stick. Jack loaded the boat and lashed everything down. He’d agreed to assist in the launching of other boats in exchange for similar help.

The following morning, Lily met him by the boat, which now rested the lakeshore. Her cheeks glowed rosily, for nothing enhanced her beauty more than being out of doors and on an adventure. She seemed made for this wild, beautiful country. He drew in the line and helped her aboard. Nala followed with a graceful bound and then set her large forepaws on the gunwales, her tongue lolling as she waited with Lily for Jack to climb aboard.

Yesterday, she’d told him that she trusted him. It was a precious thing and he knew it. He meant to be worthy of her confidence and to be certain his precious cargo reached Dawson safely. Only now the most precious thing aboard his eighteen-foot-long vessel was Lily.

He turned back to the boat, pushing off with the help of two other men. Then they heaved the second vessel into the water. Jack’s obligation complete, he waded out to his boat, climbed aboard and released the line. The current took them beyond him, the lake was alive with the skiffs, boats of balsa, barges, canoes, kayaks and one vessel that appeared to have been made of packing crates tied together with twine.

“That one looks like a coffin,” Lily said, pointing to their right.

She sat fearless in his conveyance beside her mutt who sniffed the air as her ears and gums flapped in the breeze. What a novelty for the dog not to have to pull them along. The winds grew fierce at the northern end of the lake, dragging them sideways. Jack and Lily both leaned with all they had against the rudder, trying to hold them in the center of the lake.

“Glad I reinforced the thing with sheet metal,” he shouted.

“You’ve a knack for building, Jack, and that’s a fact.”

He glowed at the praise of his partner.

His boat performed well, and by late afternoon they had reached the checkpoint at Marsh Lake where the Mounties confirmed that each person had 700 pounds of food.

“That man’s crying,” said Lily. She set her jaw and stared at the unfolding tragedy as one of the herd of stampeders was cut away from the rest.

“Hard to fail after coming this far,” said Jack.

“He won’t be the last.” Lily’s grim judgments, though accurate, were sometimes dispiriting.

Would they be among the few who completed the journey? They’d seen so many give up or be sent back. Jack swallowed back his uncertainty. He had no room for it.

The winds were good and his sail carried them across Marsh Lake, but he pulled in before they reached the mouth.

“There’s still an hour left of light,” she said.

“White Horse Rapids is next. We need more than an hour to get past that and we need full light. After that there’s snags and sandbars and more rapids.”

“You sound as if you’ve seen it.”

“Only in my mind.” But he planned to walk the cliff and see for himself. It was images of White Horse Rapids that had kept him up many nights, worrying. Tomorrow there would be more than risk, there would be danger. He wondered how the first of those who had set off had fared on the river. They’d faced the rapids with ice and water running as fast as it would at any time in the season. Tomorrow they’d take their turn.

“Jack, you’re scowling like a man with a bellyache. What’s wrong?”

“Wondering if the boat will hold water on the White Horse.”

“It will hold.”

Did Lily have any idea of what was before them? He decided to explain it to her after supper. He turned the rudder and steered them up onto the muddy shore, where the mosquitoes waited to devour them. Lily started a fire and added damp wood to the logs. The smoke drove off the worst of the blood-suckers, but the whine of their wings was persistent and maddening. As she worked, the temperature dropped and the flying menaces retreated.

Nala ceased snapping at the bugs and settled beside her mistress with a groan, as if she’d walked all the way across the lake. Other campfires sprang up along the banks. Few wanted to face the joining of river and lake in the dark.

Jack’s back ached from manning the rudder and sails, but he said nothing of it as he sank onto a log. His attention turned from his sore muscles to dinner the moment he caught the aroma of the stew that Lily had apparently smuggled aboard, carrying the precious cargo all the way from the mouth of Lake Bennett without his even knowing. It was a welcome surprise and he rather enjoyed eating together from one pot. They sat side by side, dipping their spoons as they stared at the fire and beyond to the glint of ice floating past them.

His attention lifted to the ribbons of green and blue light that shimmered across the sky.

“Oh,” she said, following the direction of his gaze. “The Northern Lights. So beautiful. It’s one of the things I love best about the winter nights in the Yukon.”

Jack looked up. The aurora borealis. The shimmering curtain of color was only visible on clear dark nights. They had seen them many times in Bennett, but this might be the last of them as winter turned to spring.

He smiled and drew her closer, keeping his arm about her shoulder as they gazed at the sky and was rewarded when Lily nestled against him. He drew a breath of complete contentment. Such moments of peace and splendor were rare on their journey.

“What else do you love?”

“Many things. The clear blue of the glacial ice and whizzing over the snow on the empty sled with Nala going full out and watching the mountain peaks at sunset when the colors change so fast you don’t dare blink.”

He prized those things as well, felt privileged to have experienced them with her. He didn’t know when it had happened exactly, when he had fallen in love with this wild country. But he knew he’d miss it more than he ever imagined possible. The world here seemed so alive and vital and the people lived full out, as Lily had said. It was so different from the stale, stagnant world he had left. And to think, had he not come, he might never have known what he missed.

“I loved watching the break-up,” he said at last. “And leaning against the rudder beside you, eating your peach turnovers and listening to you barter.” He sat contentedly beside his partner, feeling that this moment might be the most perfect of his life.

Lily drew a deep breath as she watched the lights shimmer and undulate across the wide sky.

“I think this is what she meant,” she said at last.

“Who?”

“My mother. When she knew she was dying she waited until we were alone and then she told me to sell everything to the last tack and get out of there. She told me to fill my life with adventures so I didn’t end up like her, dying with regrets for what she never did.”

She lowered her head and Jack heard her sniff. He looped his other hand about her and hugged Lily. She buried her face in the lapel of his sheepskin coat for several moments. Jack held her, thinking of Lily beside her mother’s bedside. If the woman hadn’t told Lily to go, he would never have met her.

“You’ve done just as she asked,” he whispered, his lips an inch from the top of her head. “Well, I’m glad to be a part of your adventures, Lily. Honored, in fact.”

She drew back and wiped her eyes. “Do you think she’d approve?”

He nodded. “Most certainly.”

He hadn’t realized how sheltered he’d been in his private school and university, how little he had seen outside his own circles. It had caused troubles between them at first, but now he trusted her intuition and her opinion. He’d never felt that way with a woman before. But Lily was different in so many ways.

Like him, she didn’t speak of her troubles, and, surely, hers were different than those of the privileged son of a successful business owner. But would she share them if he asked? He found himself needing to know her better. The last time he asked about her father she’d changed the subject. Should he try again? He decided his need to know her outweighed the risk that she might turn the tables on him.

“What does your father do?”

Lily’s smile faded and she gave him a sharp look. “I don’t know. He didn’t stay around very long and I don’t really remember him. Ma said he drank his wages mainly, and we were better off without him. But I know she missed him. I did, too, or I missed the idea of him.” She shrugged, as if growing up without a father was of little consequence. But he knew better. It hurt to be abandoned, even if you were already a man when it happened.

He thought of his father and felt his mood darken as well.

He gave her a little hug and she gave a half smile, then patted his cheek. “What about you, Jack? Did you have a mother who kissed you good-night and a father who came home each evening to find his slippers and paper waiting?”

Her voice held a forced levity that tugged at his heart. Is that how she pictured his life? She wasn’t far wrong, except it was all an illusion, the perfect couple and their lovely children, built on a shallow foundation that did not hold against the first flood. But he didn’t let her steer the conversation away from her pain just yet.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. That’s all said and done. And look at me now, here on a river that will carry us all the way to Dawson in your fine strong boat.” Nala rolled against her leg and groaned, glancing at her mistress, who scratched her head absently. “And should I make my fortune there, I’ll be able to help my family so they can see what a great, wide wonder the world is, as well. But I don’t know if I’ll go back myself. I’m starting to take to this territory. It seems a good place to me.”

Jack didn’t know why it troubled him that she should wish to stay, unless it was because he knew he had to go. He had obligations back there in the States, a mother and sister. With luck and hard work he’d make his fortune and then he could choose his own bride.

Jack glanced at Lily, knowing it was a lie, for he couldn’t really choose any bride. There were rules to any game and he needed to abide by them if he were to gain reentry to that world. He couldn’t, for instance, choose the daughter of an Irish immigrant without being shunned by one and all. It just wasn’t done.

Jack lowered his chin and stared at the fire, smoldering with the glowing embers.

He understood the expectations and had abided by them his whole life, never feeling their constraint. He did now.

Lily still stared up at the rolling aurora dancing across the sky. Her profile was chiseled, with a pert, upturned nose and a sloping jaw that narrowed to her pointed chin. Her neck was stretched, revealing its long, lovely length. How he wanted to stroke it and feel her pulse race beneath his lips. She turned to him and smiled.

“What does your father think of your grand adventure, Jack? Good sport between college and a career?”

He was about to lie, as he would have done had anyone else asked a question that brushed so dangerously close to his family secrets. But this was Lily who had given him only honesty.

He braced himself and began with the truth. “I don’t know what he would think. He’d be sad, I expect. Truth is, Lily, my father died before I left for the Yukon.” He paused, wanting to tell her the rest of it, but years of practice at keeping up appearances stopped him again.

This half-truth grated. He wanted her to know what had happened because if he deceived everyone around him, even those closest to him, then how was he any different from his father?

She took his hand. He opened his eyes to find her staring at him with the sweetest look of sympathy upon her face.

“Well, that’s a pity, Jack.”

Pity—no that was something he did not need from Lily. He drew back into his protective armor, letting her see only what he was willing to reveal.

“Yes. It’s why I came actually. I am his only son. He lost everything shortly before his death. So it fell to me to settle his estate. Nasty business, dealing with creditors, banks and lawyers. They left us quite destitute.”

She raised her brow, but her face did not register shock or the look of distaste he’d seen so often among those he had counted as friends before his fall from grace. She didn’t judge him and she didn’t turn away in embarrassment. For Lily only saw whom he had become, not whom he had been. He squeezed her hand, happy he’d agreed to be her partner. Their meeting, which he’d originally counted as misfortune, had turned out to be lucky, indeed. He admitted to himself that she might just be the best thing that had ever happened to him. With her, he didn’t feel sorry for himself or like the son of a failure in business. And he didn’t think back nearly as often, for there was too much to look forward to.

“But you said you also have a sister?”

Jack smiled. “My little sister, Cassandra, and my mother are both staying with my mother’s older sister, Aunt Laura. It has been very difficult for them, losing their home and all they ever knew. It was through no fault of theirs, you see.”

“Bad things happen to good people all the time, Jack. Being good is no protection at all.”

“I suppose. They are my responsibility now. They are both depending on me.”

When he looked back at her, he found she gave him a steady assessing stare. What did she see?

“Now I understand why you didn’t quit with the others, Jack. Your back’s to the wall as well, isn’t it?”

He nodded, wondering why he’d told Lily so much.

She took his hand. “Find your fortune then, for success is the best revenge.”

Jack nodded at the wisdom of this. But he didn’t want a fortune. He’d had that and now saw how it had insulated, softened and corrupted him. He was lucky for the chance to do something other than eat dinner at the club and attend social outings that he feared would now bore him silly. But then what else was there for him to do?

It was his job to pick up the pieces of the life shattered by the recklessness, inattention and shortsightedness of his father—wasn’t it? He had thought so. Did think so. It was just that he was so far from them. It made it seem like some dream, instead of his reality—a life he barely recalled now. He looked about him at the dark trees silhouetted against the glimmering sky. Would all this become a dream as well?

He hoped not, because he wanted to remember each moment of this journey. He wanted to remember Lily standing at the bow of his boat, nose to the wind and hair flying out behind her.

Lily stifled a yawn.

Jack thought of his earlier plans to have her alone, to lure her to the boat and have his way with her. The impulsiveness and sheer recklessness of his thinking now embarrassed him. Lily was not a toy.

“Would you like to bed down here or in the boat?” he asked.

“Let’s sleep in the boat, beneath a piece of canvas. It should keep most of the bugs off and block the wind,” she said.

Lily had said let’s, as in let us. Jack found he could not suppress the rush of heat that flooded him as his noble thoughts battled with his carnal desires.

“Cold will keep the bugs off and we’ll be away before they’re about.” Did she notice the catch in his voice?

They stowed her pots and crawled back into the boat, lying on the flat wooden platform he’d hewn from logs. Nala jumped in and curled at their feet. Jack removed his boots and draped a piece of canvas across the gunwales. It was a far cry from the slim, fleet boat he used to row in the Delaware Canal at Princeton, but he was proud of his little vessel. It carried all their gear and still had ten solid inches above the water line. He prayed to God that would be enough.

It was the end of May now, he realized, and his classmates would have already graduated and would soon be setting about beginning promising futures. Jack found that his musings did not precipitate the familiar pangs of regret any longer. Time and distance made them seem less significant, or was it that he had prospects of his own?

Lily snuggled beneath the blankets beside him, the heat of her body warming him.

He pulled the canvas up, but she stopped him by placing a hand on his.

“Leave it back for a bit. I’d love to watch the lights.”

He lay beside her, hands folded behind his head, staring up at the heavens at the miracle above them.

Lily settled her head on his chest, at the juncture of his shoulder and he curled his arm about her, determined to ignore the slow pulsing desire that beat with his heart.

“What’s before us tomorrow, Jack?”

He admired that about her. She focused her energy only on immediate obstacles. Should he tell her the truth?

“Don’t be sugarcoating it for me. I can take it.”

He chuckled, wondering what she’d do if he petted her head. He had spent much time thinking on what her hair would feel like. He rested his palm on her crown and she nestled closer allowing him to caress her hair. The rhythmic stroke and her gentle breathing calmed him.

“Marsh Lake is shallow. We may have to pole through parts and hope the winds don’t ground us on a sandbar or snag us on logs.”

“I’ll watch ahead and spot for them,” she promised.

“After that it’s Big Windy Arm. Treacherous winds. Some say it’s more dangerous than the rapids.”

“White Horse?” she whispered, as if to say it aloud was to bring bad luck.

“Yes, and then Miles Canyon. The trick, I’m told, is to ride the hogback.”

“What’s that?”

“The ridge of white water coming together in the center of the rough water.”

He felt her nod and continued.

“We try to ride it about half the distance, then swing right to avoid the rocks dead center. They look like spears, I’m told.”

“Well, they’ll be hard to miss seeing.”

“And even harder to miss hitting as the water rushes at them, then splits into two streams. They’ve got pilots for hire at the checkpoint.”

“We’ll not need one, Jack. You’ll be pilot enough, I’m thinking.”

“I’ve never shot rapids, Lily.”

“And I’ve never been first mate, but we’ll do it together as partners.”

Jack didn’t tell her that she’d not be along for either White Horse Rapids or Miles Canyon, for he meant to set her ashore to portage the rapids to keep her safe. If he was lucky and survived the passage, he’d pick her up below.

“What are you not telling me, Jack?”

Damn. How did she know him so well?