Loitering about, I soon realized the only person I recognized was Jack Harris, who spied me across the room and made his way unerringly towards me with two glasses of lemonade in his hand. I could see no escape. He came up and, taking my hand, placed a glass in it.
“It has a little something extra.”
I looked around desperately for any sign of Louis or Sarah, then sniffed at the offering and wrinkled my nose at the pungent, tropical smell of rum. I could think of nothing to say, so I forced myself to take a polite sip as he watched.
He leaned in very close. “I unsettle you, don’t I? You’ve got nothing to fear from me—or is it something else?”
I sputtered and choked on my drink, and he laughed loudly.
“I’m only teasing. You’re such an easy mark, Miss Harding,” he said, taking a step away. “How are you enjoying the show?”
I relaxed, seeing nothing malicious in his eyes. “Florence is wonderful. I honestly can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed a performance quite so much.”
“Really? You should get out more.”
“You don’t agree?” I raised my chin, feeling a tad offended on Florence’s behalf. “Perhaps the more base fare of the dancing Hurdy-Gurdy girls is more to your liking, but I can assure you, I, for one, am charmed by Florence and am incredibly impressed by her talent.”
“Oh, don’t get on your high horse. I’m just suggesting that you’re a bit naive.”
I set my drink down with a thump on a nearby table. “I consider myself to be a woman of the world. You know that I have travelled here all the way from England by my own wits. Not many other unmarried women can boast that.”
“I’ve offended you. I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just that when I saw you a while back, taking in everything Dick Canning had to say about Horsefly Creek, obviously believing every word of it, it struck me that you’re an innocent.”
“What in heaven’s name do you mean by that?” I asked. The air in the back room suddenly felt quite close and warm.
He picked up my unfinished drink and drained it. “It’s fine with me if you want to play the stock-trading game. Have at it. But there are things you need to know first, like the fact that Dick’s always pumped about one claim or another. We take his stories with a grain of salt. He’s not always wrong, but more often than not, he is.”
“Thank you for your words of warning, but I can assure you I am not tempted to bet on the outcome of mining ventures.”
“Of course you aren’t,” he said with that irritating slight smile of his. “In case you are interested, though, Horsefly Creek has come up bust. I doubt you could give the shares away now.”
At his words, I tried to appear nonchalant, but I felt pricks of perspiration on my brow. Thankfully, we were interrupted by a call to take our seats for the second act, and I took my leave.
For the rest of the show, I felt that my performance equalled that of Florence on the stage. I laughed when the audience laughed and enthusiastically joined in during the final singing of “Hail Columbia.” After the show, Sarah and I hurried backstage to congratulate Florence, and I was most sincere in my warm wishes for her. But inside I was deflated and angry at myself.
Sarah and Louis were oblivious to my dark mood as they walked hand in hand, leaning into each other and talking in hushed tones. When she saw me straggling behind, Sarah broke away from Louis and circled back, linking arms with me. Her kindness cheered me, and I thanked the stars above that we were friends. I would somehow find a way to build my ranch, I told myself, and decided to give up fretting about it for now.
We stopped often to admire the brilliant night sky, picking out the Big and Little Dippers and the North Star. Louis described the northern lights he had seen last September, multicoloured, flickering tongues of light that snapped and crackled across the darkened horizon. Sarah professed a great desire to see them when they made an appearance in the fall, and I wondered if John would be here by then and what might come of our relationship.
Chapter Forty-two
Life took on a bit of a dull routine in the weeks that followed, but time passed pleasantly enough. It was summer, precious days of warmth and light that shouldn’t be squandered in the north. And it was the time for love. Business was so brisk at the BC Express stagecoach company that they hired a second driver to spell Louis off. He had more time in town, and he spent most of it with Sarah. Seeing her happiness made me think often of John. I had started watching the calendar. Midsummer had passed, but it wouldn’t be long now.
I had written Wiggles and sent along the photograph of me, Sarah, and Florence, and in her reply Wiggles had said that she had attended one of John’s last lectures at the society and she had been most impressed. In spite of the aggressive hecklers, John had spoken well and with conviction. I think she guessed there was something between the two of us, as she didn’t hesitate to tell me what a fine upstanding man he was.
I avoided conversations with Jack Harris as much as possible. Eventually he seemed to take the hint and left me alone. He was right about one thing, though. I was naive. Horsefly Creek shares had plummeted. My tips were slowly building into a small nest egg, but I knew I had to adjust my expectations. I would never be
