Page 27 of I Do, I Do, I Do
Shamelessly, she didn’t even pretend to consider. “Please do.” She hoped she was not begging for a painful lingering death.
“By now you know that Miss Klaus won the arm-wrestling tournament.” His smile widened. “The story making the rounds is assuming the proportions of a legend.”
Fire invaded her cheeks. She deeply regretted helping Clara alter the bodice of her dress. “It’s a fine day,” she murmured, changing the subject. She refused to spoil her final encounter with Mr. Dare by imagining him observing Clara’s indecency.
“So,” he said, “does your journey end at Dyea? Or are you traveling farther?”
“We’re going to Dawson City.” My, the air was invigorating today. On the other hand, she always felt invigorated when she spoke to Mr. Dare. Her heart beat faster, and she smiled more often. And recalling every word of their conversations had helped pass the time when she was stuck below with Zoe. Moreover, his flattering attention helped soothe the battering her self-esteem had taken since learning of Jean Jacques’s betrayal.
“But not to seek your fortune,” he said in a teasing voice. “You’ll join a traveling party in Dyea?”
“We’re not meeting anyone, no.”
Stopping abruptly, he turned to her with a frown. “You’re traveling to the Klondike alone?”
His expression raised a kernel of alarm in her chest. “Why does that surprise you?” she asked when his stare deepened.
“Has anyone explained the trail from Dyea to Dawson City?”
“I’ve been told it will be an arduous trek.”
“It certainly will.”
For a moment she was distracted by trying to decide exactly what shade his eyes were. She’d thought delphinium blue, but now the color had darkened, forming a thrilling contrast to his suntanned forehead and cheeks. And his voice roughened when he spoke seriously, something she hadn’t really noticed until now.
“You do know, don’t you, that you’ll make the journey on foot, transporting your outfit?”
“We aren’t going on foot. We’ll hire a stage.”
His beard was filling out, Juliette noticed. Zoe had shocked her by remarking that full thick beards were a sign of virility. It wasn’t proper to think about such things, especially with him standing so close. Still…
“Damn.” Taking her arm, the first time he had touched her, Ben led her to the rail.
Startled, Juliette frowned at her arm as if she could see the hot tingle that raced from his hand to her shoulder. How was it possible that his touch sent her nerves shooting to the surface? She didn’t recall anything like this happening when Jean Jacques touched her.
When they stopped at the rail, Ben noticed that he still held her arm, and he dropped his hand immediately. It occurred to Juliette that they were not parting company any too soon. This man was dangerous. She was becoming entirely too fond of him.
“Miss March. There is no stage, no train, no carriages. Even horses can’t make it over Chilkoot Pass.”
His words disturbed her uneasy concentration on his mouth. Disbelief widened her eyes. “That can’t be correct.” She rubbed her tingling arm. “If what you say were true, then how would anyone get their outfits over the pass and down to Dawson City?”
“By carrying them on their backs.”
She laughed. “The outfits can weigh a thousand pounds apiece.”
“You carry as much as you can as far as you can, then you return for the next load and the next load and the next until you’ve assembled your outfit, then you start the process over. You’ll cover each piece of ground at least ten times or more.”
The smile faded from her lips. “But it would take forever to get there, doing it like that.”
“It will take several months, working at it seven days a week,” he agreed. “That’s why I assumed you must be traveling with a larger party. A large party can pare duplicates and add sleds and dogs.” He gazed down at her with a concerned expression. “And are you aware that you may have to winter over at Lake Bennett? Living in your tent,” he added, watching her.
She gasped, and a hand flew to her throat. “Camp in a tent for a whole winter?” The question ended on a squeak. Trying to live in the outdoors was unimaginable enough. Doing it through a winter was inconceivable. From what she’d heard about snow and frigid temperatures, she didn’t think she would enjoy either.
This was not one of their better conversations. She didn’t like what he was saying or the images he placed in her mind.
“Some folks wait until the river freezes, then push on with dogs and sleds,” he said slowly. “Others wait until the river thaws and go by boat. There are pros and cons to both approaches.”
Juliette wasn’t seeing any positives to any approach. The headache that signaled unpleasant choices began to build behind her eyes, and she picked at her gloves.
