The owner’s dissatisfaction faded, replaced with rapacity. “The ‘tally,’ if you will,” he chuckled at the oft-repeated play on his name, “is twenty cents. Unless I may interest you in a serving of baked apples? They’re hot out of the oven and most delicious.”
Clara extracted a coin purse, and carefully selected a quarter. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary, Mr. Tally.” She proffered the coin. “The beefsteak was quite filling.” Mr. Tally bobbed his head as he accepted payment. While he fished in a pocket for change, she smiled and patted his forearm. “Please keep the remainder.”
“As always, the service was excellent,” Emma cut in, preparing to rise.
Mr. Tally hastened to assist them from their chairs. He peppered them with inconsequential chitchat until the women found themselves on the front step of the restaurant.
“Next time it’s my turn.” Emma used the reflection in the front window to adjust the gray felt sailor hat she’d donned for their outing. When all was to her satisfaction, she turned to her friend.
“Certainly.” Clara linked her arm through Emma’s and they strolled down the busy sidewalk.
“So, you’re certain then?”
Clara squeezed Emma’s arm. “Yes, I am.” She watched the bustle of horse-drawn carriages and trolleys rumble past, the clouds of dust left in their wake. Freshly cut wood lashed to a cart went by, the scent of pine drifting through the air. The sidewalk was crowded with people—mostly men on business—but the occasional woman or two had chosen this fine day to shop or enjoy their afternoon tea in style. Clara would miss the flurry of activity in which she’d been raised, the cosmopolitan atmosphere of her hometown.
“And you’re set on the Alaskan?”
“Yes.” Clara smiled.
Emma made a moue. “I can’t change your mind?”
Clara stiffened. “I must confess that I’ve already written him.”
“What?” Emma pulled back, mouth and eyes wide. “You did not!”
Unable to speak, Clara nodded. She didn’t know whether Emma would take her precipitous action as daring or a betrayal of their friendship. Emma’s quicksilver emotions could sway in either direction.
Emma’s expression teetered between dismay and awe, finally settling on grudging admiration. “You are a little hussy, aren’t you?” she asked in a whisper, a puckish grin upon her face.
Her acceptance nearly caused Clara to swoon as relief flooded through every muscle and nerve. Her eyes stung with the unshed tears of uncertain stress. The one constant in her life had been Emma. Hurting her was akin to hurting herself. Now that Clara had vaulted the obstacle of Emma’s opinion in this matter, she realized how foolish she’d been. Of course Emma would support her in this endeavor, foolhardy or no. Such had been the way of their friendship throughout their lives. They loved each other more than their own siblings and parents. Clara doubted she’d ever be able to discover that depth of adoration with a man. If such was the case, she could at least live a life surrounded by natural beauty.
Chapter Two
The ropes dug into Callie Glass’s shoulders, a familiar sensation after a half-dozen years on the trapline. Behind her she heard the wooden rails of the sledge grate against rock and hardpack. Occasionally she’d hit a patch of ice and snow from the last storm, and the sledge would lurch forward, its load of carcasses swaying with the abrupt change in speed. Though she sweated from the exertion, she wore her jacket. She hated the fact that she’d taken after her mother, inheriting a frail-looking and feminine body that belied her sinewy strength. To counteract the initial impression of being a lightweight, a pretty little thing with a tendency toward hysteria, she wore bulky clothing to appear physically larger. The tactic didn’t always work.
A wisp of golden hair fell from beneath her slouch hat, tickling her nose. She puffed a breath to dislodge it from her face. The stubborn lock drifted back into place. As much as she wanted to stop and tuck it back under the brim, she refrained. The cabin was ahead on an uphill incline. If she halted now, she might not be able to get the heavy sledge back into motion for the last hundred feet. It would be mortifying to wait for her brother to return from Skagway with their only horse because she’d foundered the sledge this close to home.
The scent of rich loam and pine trees gave way to the smell of wood smoke and the sea. About a quarter mile away from the cabin, the waves along the Taiya Inlet slapped loud against the shoreline. Another steamer full of miners must have recently passed en route to Skagway. To distract herself from her recalcitrant tresses and the burn of exertion in her thighs and back, Callie gazed over the water toward the fold of land that hid the Chilkoot Inlet. Another ship had rounded the corner and was headed landward, smoke and steam emitting from its stacks as it neared.
She sneered at the ship, stilling her face as the action brought another annoying tickle to her nose. Every ne’er-do-well and blowhard had turned up with gold in his or her eyes these last few months. Skagway hadn’t been her most favorite place in the world to start with, but now it had swelled to bursting with the influx of Johnny Newcomes and muckmen who thought they could make it rich in the northern goldfields.
Callie put her back into the effort as the sledge hit a rough patch of ground. Not for the first time did she thank God above that her brother, Jasper, hadn’t fallen sway to gold fever. Rather than drop everything in her lap and head north with the rest of the hopeful miners, he’d extended their trapline and sold the extra meat and hides to Skagway butchers. As the town’s population bloated beyond its borders, more mouths needed feeding and more bodies needed furs to keep warm. Up in the Yukon, optimistic men grabbed up mining
