Page 32 of I Do, I Do, I Do
The conversation going on above her head was. Clara had made introductions in her perfunctory way; it had been discovered that the crate Zoe sat on belonged to Ben Dare, and now the men were taking the ladies in hand.
While Tom and Mr. Dare discussed the logistics of how and where to move the ladies’ outfits, Zoe closed her eyes and breathed the good scents of the sea and wood smoke. She listened to male shouts and curses and a faint tinkle of saloon music floating from the distant town of Dyea.
She wanted to manage this journey without depending on others, and tomorrow she would hate it that she was beholden to Tom and Mr. Dare. But right now, she was too exhausted to care. If the men wanted to move their outfits and set up the tent, God bless them for it. All she wanted to do was fall into her collapsible cot, rest, and regain her strength.
When she opened her eyes again, Clara had dug some dried fruit out of the pack, and Juliette was asking if she should make tea on Mr. Dare’s camp stove. In the middle of the off-loading process, Zoe’s companions were having a social occasion.
Well, why not? The men had offered to assist them, after all, and there was odd comfort in discovering they weren’t entirely alone in a strange new place. They knew people here.
Her gaze traveled to Tom. The folks in Newcastle talked about leaving, talked about going to Seattle or somewhere else where life wasn’t as stark and hard. But few actually left, and those who did were likely to return having discovered that cities could be harsh and uncaring.
She knew why Tom Price had left Newscastle and the mine, that was a given. But she wondered why he had fetched up in Alaska instead of someplace closer to home. And owning a packing company, too. Whatever that was.
When she noticed him watching her as he talked to Mr. Dare, she turned her head toward the haze of wood and coal smoke overhanging the town. Nothing had changed. She didn’t want an involvement with a Newcastle man even in a small way. Besides, she was still married to The Bastard.
But oh, my, it was good to see someone from home.
Sliding a sidelong look toward the men, she noted dark curls lying against the collar of Tom’s heavy coat. Faded denims snugged around his thighs, and he wore lace-up work boots. Mr. Dare was clad similarly, but Mr. Dare’s clothing looked new, whereas Tom’s garments were comfortably worn and familiar.
After Tom and Mr. Dare strode off to do whatever they intended to do, Zoe wondered if she would see Tom Price again. There was no reason to do so. On the other hand, Ma would have her hide if she wrote home and mentioned that she’d run into him but had no news to report. She would have to make a point of meeting him again and asking a few questions. For Ma’s sake.
She chose not to examine why that decision improved her spirits so greatly.
Chapter 8
Bear leaned against a post inside Tom Price’s stable, watching Tom load the panniers draped across a big jack mule. It was a pleasure to watch a man who was good at his job. When Tom finished, there wouldn’t be half an inch of wasted space, and the well-padded liquor would arrive in Dawson City without a single broken bottle, having gone from Dyea to Skagway, over Dead Horse Pass, then another six hundred miles by boat or sled.
“Fifty-one cents a pound is highway robbery.”
Tom shrugged. “Nose Malley’s Indians will pack you in cheaper.” He buckled down the pannier straps. “Your liquor’s leaving for Skagway in about two hours, so if you want to hire Nose Malley, say so now. I’ll have to charge you a loading fee.”
Nose Malley was notorious for dumping one man’s load beside the trail and continuing on with someone else’s if the newcomer offered a higher price. Most of the packers played that game, except Tom Price. After Tom Price shook your hand, the deal was set in stone. Your goods arrived, intact, and for the cost originally agreed on. And Price didn’t shy from big jobs. He’d taken a piano over the pass for Bear and gotten it to Dawson without busting the cabinet all to hell or dunking it in a river.
When Bear didn’t instruct him to start unpacking the mules, Tom stepped back to run a critical eye over the jack’s load. “Are you going to Skagway with the pack train?”
The load looked balanced to Bear’s eye. “This time I think I’ll go over Chilkoot. Are you leading the Skagway train or is Davidson in charge?”
“Davidson’s a good man. He’ll get your liquor to Dawson.”
Bear nodded. “Have the ladies hired you to pack their outfits over Chilkoot?”
It wasn’t necessary to explain which ladies he meant. First, there weren’t many women in Dyea, and fewer still were ladies. Second, Ben Dare had mentioned that Price was a friend of Miss Wilder’s family.
“Miss Wilder said we’d talk this morning.”
“When you talk to her, tell her you’ll pack her and her companions all the way to Dawson for thirty cents a pound.” When Tom’s eyebrow soared, Bear bit down on his back teeth. “I’ll pay the extra plus a bonus if you get all their goods to Dawson.”
“Your saloon must be doing very well indeed,” Tom commented. “This will cost a pretty penny.”
Bear kicked at the dirt and frowned. “Don’t tell them it’s me doing the paying.”
The words falling out of his mouth astonished him. He was as surprised and mystified by his anonymous generosity as Tom appeared to be. He didn’t owe those women anything. He didn’t even know them except for Miss Klaus, and he didn’t know her except to nod and say howdy do.
But everyone in Dyea had linked their names. Clara Klaus, the redheaded Amazon, had whipped Bear Barrett in about thirty seconds flat with twenty men looking on. The unthinkable had happened. Bernard T. Barrett had been publicly bested by a mere woman, and everybody knew it. He couldn’t walk a dozen steps without someone giving him a knowing grin or laughing right out loud. Already he’d fought five men in defense of his manhood, and he’d only been in Dyea for two days. Miss Clara Klaus had brought him a potload of aggravation and trouble.
Yet, here he was turning strange and chivalrous not only toward her, but toward her companions, too, paying out a king’s ransom just to make their journey a little easier. He had no idea why he was doing this. And not even taking credit for it.
“Civilization’s coming our way,” Price commented, stepping up beside Bear at the open end of the stable. He offered Bear a cigar and lit one himself.
