the pilings that stuck up at the edge of the dock. Then he went up the gangplank with Dog following him.
Captain Hoffman himself was at the head of the gangplank today. He looked past Frank and said, “My God. I thought you said you were bringing a dog with you, Mr. Morgan, not a wolf.”
Frank grinned. “Don’t worry about him. He’s all dog. Well, mostly, anyway. I can’t be sure about all his ancestors, though.” He gestured toward Stormy and Goldy. “There are my horses.”
“I suppose we can rig some sort of sling and boom to lift them onto the deck and lower them into the hold,” Hoffman said with a frown.
“No need. I’ll just lead them aboard, if that’s all right with you.”
“Up the gangplank?” Hoffman sounded like he thought that wouldn’t be possible.
“They’re pretty sure-footed,” Frank said. “I’ve trusted my life to them on ledges that are even narrower than that plank, with a sheer cliff going up on one side and a drop of several hundred feet on the other.”
A shiver went through Hoffman. “I don’t see how anyone does such a thing,” he said. “Give me the sea any day.”
Frank looked out at the cold, gray waters of the sound, which were pretty choppy this morning, and felt the same way about it that Hoffman did about those high mountain trails.
“The weather’s taken a turn for the worse,” he commented.
“This?” Hoffman made a casual gesture toward the leaden sky. “This is nothing to worry about. I’d be more concerned if it was clear and warm. Now, if you’re sure about bringing those horses of yours aboard, we can lower some boards through the hatch into the cargo hold to make a ramp.”
Frank nodded. “I’ll go get ’em.”
One at a time, he led Stormy and Goldy up the gangplank, onto the deck, and then down the makeshift ramp into the hold. As he expected, neither of them had any trouble. They were both almost as nimble as mountain goats. The sailors had put up some partitions to form stalls in one corner of the hold, and buckets of fresh water and grain were already in place. Hoffman had done a good job of preparing for the unexpected four-legged passengers, and Frank intended to thank him and compliment him for his efforts. He left Dog belowdecks as well, telling the big cur to stay with Stormy and Goldy. Dog didn’t seem to like it much, but he would do whatever Frank told him.
When Frank started topside again, he heard women’s voices before he even emerged from the hold. As he came out on deck, he saw that Fiona and the young women had arrived at the wharf in several carriages, followed by a wagon piled high with baggage.
Captain Hoffman stood at the railing, a frown on his face. He glanced at Frank and said, “I hope we have room for all those bags. Women don’t travel lightly, do they, Mr. Morgan?”
“Don’t ask me a question like that when there are ladies in earshot, Captain,” Frank responded with a grin. Fiona had reached the top of the gangplank.
“Good morning, Frank,” she said. “Captain Hoffman, do we have your permission to come aboard?”
“Indeed you and your charges do, Mrs. Devereaux, ma’am,” Hoffman said. “Welcome to the
Chattering excitedly, the young women came up the gangplank and onto the ship. Hoffman had one of his officers show them to their cabins. It wasn’t Brewster who got the job, Frank noted. In fact, Frank hadn’t even seen Brewster this morning. He wondered if Captain Hoffman had assigned him to duties belowdecks to keep him out of the way. If so, that was fine for now, but Frank doubted if Hoffman would be able to keep the two of them apart all the way to Skagway.
The rain began to fall harder, which drove everyone inside except the sailors who had to be on deck. Frank lingered for a moment with moisture dripping off the brim of his hat as he said, “We’re putting ourselves in your hands, Captain.”
“Don’t worry,” Hoffman said as he buttoned up the slicker he had put on. “In less than a week, you’ll be in Skagway. And once you’ve seen that hellhole, you may wish you were back on my boat, Mr. Morgan!”
The captain’s prediction stayed with Frank as the ship weighed anchor a short time later and used its steam engine to push itself away from the dock, out into Elliott Bay and then Puget Sound itself. Just how much of a hellhole
Frank had seen many boomtowns in his time, most recently the silver mining town of Buckskin in Nevada. He had served as the marshal there for a while, and he had to admit that it had been an exciting, violent time. It was entirely possible that Skagway was worse, since it was more isolated. Frank didn’t know if there was any law up there beyond what the settlers themselves made.
He wondered if Whitehorse would be better or worse. At least across the border in Canada, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police had jurisdiction. Frank had run into a few Mounties in the past and knew them to be tough, capable hombres.
But he was getting ahead of himself. They still had several days worth of sailing to go before they arrived in Alaska. He went to the tiny porthole of the cabin he had been assigned and looked out at the rain-lashed waters of the sound. He felt the faint vibration of the deck under his feet from the engines and heard their deep-throated rumble. That was reassuring. The engines were powerful enough so that they sent the vessel through the water at a steady pace. The ship pitched some—enough to make Frank a little queasy, in fact—but he thought he would get used to it without much trouble. He hoped so, anyway.
But even if he did, he would still be mighty glad to have dry land under his feet again.
He remembered looking at one of the maps in Captain Hoffman’s cabin. From Puget Sound, the ship turned west and headed through the Strait of Juan de Fuca, which led to the Pacific Ocean. Frank had seen the Pacific on numerous occasions, most recently during a dustup in the redwood country of northern California, but it was always an impressive sight, stretching out endlessly to the horizon. Frank looked out at the mountains that wore a gray shroud of clouds and rain and knew that he was bidding farewell to land for a few days.
A knock sounded on his door, taking him a little by surprise. He turned away from the porthole and went to answer the summons. When he swung the door open, he found Fiona standing there. She had shed her coat and hat and wore an elegant traveling gown of some dark gray fabric that clung to her body.
