Page 24 of I Do, I Do, I Do
Another voice agreed. “You can’t enter your own tournament!”
“Well, I’m going to.” He raised huge hands to calm the protests. “After I beat her, I’ll withdraw.”
She’d hoped for one of the little skinny ones. But all right. She could deal with drawing the strongest opponent.
Tilting her head, she squeezed down her eyes and studied him. Strength was part of it, but so was strategy. He was big and powerful and confident, but he was a man. He could be had.
“When’s the match?” she asked. It was flattering to notice that he continued to size her up, too.
“The first round starts tomorrow morning after breakfast.”
Excellent. She’d have the time she needed.
The cubicle looked and smelled as hideous as it had when she left it. Zoe sprawled on the bottom bunk, moaning, gagging, and looking like death. Tuckered out, Juliette half dozed on the cot.
“I need your help,” Clara announced, dropping to her knees to pull out her bag. She told them about the tournament and that her first match was in the morning.
“You didwhat?”
Even Zoe sat up to stare. “You’re crazy,” Zoe muttered before she flopped down again.
Clara found her extra dress and shook out the wrinkles, holding it to the sputtering lamp. It would do nicely.
“Whatever you have in mind, Zoe can’t help. She’s still dying,” Juliette said in tones of long-suffering patience.
“It will look good on her tombstone to say that she died with a needle in her hand. Get up, Zoe. We need to pool our brains and our belongings, and we need to alter this dress.”
Chapter 6
As if by magic, Alaska’s coastline materialized during the chilly night. Thin cool sunlight glittered on the snow-caps of mountains that appeared to rise directly out of the sea.
Goose bumps thrilled up on Clara’s skin. She was going to see and do things in Alaska that she’d previously never dreamed of seeing and doing. She just knew it. The majestic coastline represented the great adventure of her life, and she wanted to fling out her arms and embrace all that she saw.
After drinking in another long draft of Alaska’s glorious coast, she cracked her knuckles, flexed her fingers, then raised her head and strode into the smoky overheated mess hall.
The first round of matches was well under way. Several names on the chalkboard had already been lined out, winners declared. Men battled arm to arm at nearly every corner of every mess table, critically observed by those whose matches were finished or hadn’t yet begun.
Bear Barrett’s craggy gold head rose above the other men, making it easy for Clara to spot him at once. Since yesterday he’d found time for a hair wash and trim, and none of the golden whiskers that had sparkled on his jaw yesterday remained today. He’d spiffed up his attire, too, wearing dark wool trousers and a dark gold-striped waistcoat beneath a black bow tie.
As no one else had chosen to set aside their denims, Clara wondered if he’d gussied up for her sake, or if hosting a tournament called for a more formal image than he’d affected yesterday. No, if formality were an issue, he would have worn his jacket instead of standing about in his shirtsleeves.
She watched him remove a cigar from his lips, then kneel to critically study the distance between the table and the arm of a sweating, straining man.
“We have a winner!” he shouted, and the observers at that corner of the table cheered. A man at the chalkboard added another name to the list of second-round contenders.
Then Bear spotted her. His mouth fell open, and he did a double take. As well he might, because Clara didn’t look like her usual plain and practical self. She didn’t look like a woman should look at this hour of the morning.
For starters, she wore no hat over a coiffure suited for evening. Juliette and Zoe had dressed her hair in an updo that resembled a fountain spouting red curls. They had crimped her bangs and made curlicues in front of her ears. Then they topped off the arrangement with a black ostrich tip held in place by a fancy hairpin set with brilliants.
The black cape belonged to Juliette and fit too snugly, but the stiffened collar stood up to frame her face and set off dangling eardrops of flashing Ceylon brilliants that also belonged to Juliette.
What showed of her dress belonged to her, but the shoes beneath now sported clever cloth roses created by Zoe that matched the cloth rose pinned to Zoe’s best handbag.
Blushing a little at Bear Barrett’s intent scrutiny, Clara opened the handbag and removed a five-dollar gold piece. “Do I pay you my entry fee?” she asked as he strode up to her.
“There’s a rule that waives the entry fee for ladies.” A slow glance traveled over her hair, the flashing eardrops, and slid down her throat to the first ribbon holding the cape closed.
“That rule didn’t exist yesterday. In fact—”
