At the Rainbow's End (20 page)

“I am, and I see she is safe with you. I didn't want to think of her being insulted by more of those rowdy fools out there.” He grew serious. “You didn't get hurt, did you?”

She put her hand on his arm. “I am fine, Joel.
I
know better than to strike a man twice my size.”

His fingers covered hers. Gazing down into her face, he knew her sharp tone covered dangerous emotions she did not want to reveal to the minister. Sam had been truly concerned about him being injured. Deciding she was at last falling in love with him, he congratulated himself silently. His efforts had not been in vain, after all.

When Joel turned to lead her back into the hall, the clergyman said, “Before
you
go, Mr. Gilchrist, I suggest you think about the damage done to the hall. I will be passing the plate momentarily.”

“I expected that, Reverend.”

“Good!” Reverend Healy's smile did not match his sharp tone. Stepping past them, he walked out of the kitchen. Through the door, they could hear the raucous complaints which met his announcement.

Drawing her close, Joel felt her tremble with restrained fear. When she leaned her head on his shoulder, he whispered against her hair, “Sam, I told you that you tempt me, but I didn't expect to become a crazy dashing cavalier and rescue you from that ogre Ogilvie.”

“It wasn't necessary.”

“No, but it was fun.” His other arm went around her waist as he felt her move away. He did not want this moment to end so soon. “That is one thing I always have when you are around—fun! Perhaps not the type I would choose, but interesting experiences nonetheless.”

She laughed softly. “You are very odd, Mr. Gilchrist.”

“And you are very beautiful, Miss Perry.”

His mouth caressed hers for the briefest second before he released her. Then he led her into the main room, knowing that her face glowed because of his burning, unsated love.

Samantha accepted a plate from the voluble Mrs. Young and sat at the closest table. As she ate, she thought about the fact that she was more distressed by her fright for Joel than by causing the brawl. Over and over, eyes down, she asked herself what urged her to surrender to the physical longings with him. He was often brash, and too forceful with her. He irritated her with sharp comments. Why did she want to be with him all the time?

Love
.

She forced the word from her mind. She did not want to love Joel Gilchrist. Although he murmured endearments when he held her, she held few hopes that he would come to love her. Above all else, Joel cared about what he was going to gain out of any situation.

She knew that. She knew all of that. Why, then, couldn't she stop imagining a life with him, far from the horrors of the Klondike?

She sighed, resisting the answer in her mind. She did not want to love him. She would never allow herself to be so foolish.

Never.

Chapter Eleven

The stars seared the black sky with cold fire. Wisps of the Aurora Borealis flowed in ghostly patterns between them. Mud crunched beneath Samantha's feet as the cold hardened it into strange patterns. No wagons could navigate this frozen sea contorted by uneven waves.

“I think I need a drink after all that,” said Joel as he put his left hand in his coat pocket. The other held Samantha's. “Where to? Dewey's or the dance hall?”

His partner said quietly, “I think Samantha would prefer the dance hall. Remember what we witnessed last time we went to Dewey's?”

“You're probably right, although I've never seen a fight more enthusiastic than the one at the church.”

“Joel,” she admonished. Her fingers tightened in his hand. “Can't we forget that?”

He chuckled at her embarrassment. Her modesty continued to charm him. A more brazen woman would have been delighted to have a roomful of men fighting for her honor. “I doubt any of us will forget it for a long time, after the hefty, so-called donation the reverend extracted from every man there.”

“I heard McKinnon talking about a major strike on the Eldorado last month,” said Kevin, to ease Samantha's distress.

Relieved that he had changed the subject, Samantha did not want to recall her uneasy thoughts at supper. It was simpler to convince herself that she cared for both of these men equally. She frowned, wondering again why “Joel Houseman” could not have existed. His gentleness and aspirations had matched her own. Sometimes she caught glimpses of the imaginary man in Joel, but she never got close enough to discover if it was real, or just another act to seduce her into his arms.

Soon they paused in front of a storefront brightened by two kerosene lanterns. The sod-topped, one story building did not resemble its much finer Dawson cousins. When they stepped inside, though, she felt transported back to the larger city, to a dance hall she had peered into as she walked with Mrs. Kellogg.

Nearly a dozen women danced with customers in the center of the crowded room. Many other men waited with ill-concealed impatience for the minute-long dance to be completed, then paid their dust for an equally short turn.

Kevin pointed to an empty table and pushed past his partner to pull out a chair for Samantha. Thanking him gratefully, she kept her eyes lowered. While the blond signaled for a waiter, Joel secretly took her hand beneath the table top.

“Honey, don't be so concerned about men looking at you,” he whispered. “They just enjoy looking at women, especially beautiful ones like you.”

“I'm just tired of being appraised, like a mare on the auction block.”

He chuckled at her outspoken words on this subject, which always brought an enticing blush to her cheeks. “I can assure you, Sam, they don't look at you in that way. They just are envious of Kevin and me for being with the prettiest woman in the Yukon.”

She brushed aside his effusive compliments, not sure if he knew how much they pleased and disquieted her. Was he being honest or merely joking? Sighing, she looked directly into his face, revealed by the rosy glow of the colored lanterns hanging from the ceiling.

Struck by his handsomeness, leaning toward him, she did not realize she had placed her hand on his steel hard leg until he put his over it. Her lips softened while her fingers slid away from his on soft wool, so different from his usual denim trousers. A glow she had never seen came into his burning sapphire eyes—gentler yet hungrier than any expression she had seen there.

“Sam,” he breathed.

The word sent a storm within her spiraling to blazing heights, swirling her through a maze of muted, love-lit images, stirring her deep hunger for the feast she yearned to sample. Unaware, she raised her hand to touch his cheek. To her right, a laugh burst into her dream of fleeing the present to find rapture in the madness of love.

Turning, she fixed a smile on her face, and knew how weak it was when Kevin asked, “Is something bothering you, Samantha? I know this isn't exactly the entertainment you are accustomed to.”

“Nothing,” she lied. She could not tell him she had forgotten his existence—as well as the rest of the world—while she had dissolved into warm pools of desire.

“A drink?” Kevin sensed she was not being totally honest with him, but ignored this.

“Wine, please.”

“Beer for me,” added Joel.

Kevin's smile tightened. He felt he had been cast in the role of servant again. The waiter, busy arguing with one of the dance hall girls, ignored Kevin's attempts to gain his attention. Shoving back his chair, he rose with a rumble of disgust.

Samantha watched him use his frustration as a battering ram to propel him through the crowd. “Joel, sometimes you treat him so poorly. Ordering him about. He doesn't like it, you know.”

“Really?” When her eyes met his cynicism, all her sweet thoughts vanished. Her reaction had inflamed his jealousy, and a self-satisfied smirk twisted his lips. “I guess I should come to you with any questions I might have about my partner. Kevin and I have been together for nearly a year and a half, but you seem to be the expert on his sensitive feelings.”

“Stop it!”

“You've said stop before.” His arm snaked around her, pulling her stiff form against him. “Too damn often!” When she turned her face away, he gripped her cheeks and twisted it back to his. “I'm talking to you, Sam!”

Pushing away his hand, she rubbed the back of hers against her face. “I realize that. I just don't want to listen to you!”

“Listen?” Putting his mouth close to her ear, he delighted in her involuntary gasp as his warm breath teased at the hollows half hidden beneath her hair. “Honey, you should listen to this. I won't be able to resist the temptation much longer to quench my thirst for your loving.”

He laughed when she tried to strike him, blocking her blow easily. Enraged by his assumption she would accept this heavyhanded wooing in public, she tried to break out of his iron embrace. He laughed, increasing her rage.

Samantha used the only weapon she possessed. First, she ceased struggling in his arms, which added to his already overblown sense of conceit by emphasizing his physical power. Then, slyly, with her eyes directly on his face so she would miss none of his reaction, she asked, “Is this how you courted the women in your past?”

When the mirth left his eyes, replaced by shock, she did not feel the sense of victory she had expected. His arms slipped from her as she rose. She did not know where she was going, but she had to escape from the pain displayed so vividly on his face.

As Joel stood, she was astonished to feel his hand reaching for hers. Her mouth formed a circle when a gentle tug pulled her back to face him. Words she had never expected to hear from him left her speechless.

“I'm sorry, Sam.” When she did not answer, his everpresent smile brightened the strong straight line of his lips. “Do I need to get down on my knees and beg?”

“It might not be a bad idea,” she said wryly, more comfortable with jesting than revealing the emotions boiling in her.

He stood to pull out her chair for her, inviting her to sit again. As her eyes moved along the high collar of his shirt, up over the firmly defined squareness of his stubborn chin, and along the hawk-strong line of his nose to his eyes, his hand came around her to stroke the straight line of her back. Neither of them could bend enough to be the first to admit the truth. Hiding their fears of intimacy behind facades of sharp wit protected them from risk and hurt.

“Are you sure you want me on bended knee?” he asked softly. “I might be tempted to do more than ask for your forgiveness.”

“I'm not required to accept any offer, remember?”

Breathing in the soft perfume of her recently washed hair, he nodded ruefully. “I remember all too well.” His voice regained its normal jauntiness. “And here comes Kevin with our drinks.”

While Joel joked with Kevin about doing the honors next time to soothe his bruised feelings, Samantha was not surprised to feel his arm go around her. He took his chair again.

Conversation swirled all around them, drowning out the clinking sound of the music. The piano player often paused for the dance hall girls to switch partners. Then he began again, to play for another sixty seconds.

When the uneven melody stopped and did not start again, Samantha looked across the room in confusion. A man jumped up onto the stage, waving for attention. Kevin paused in the middle of a sentence to watch the wiry man, who bounced from one foot to the other in eager anticipation.

“What is it, Riley?” called one of the miners standing at the edge of the dance floor. Another shouted, “Fingers, we want to dance. Play!”

“Can't!” yelled the piano player, leaning back in his chair to watch the stage. With a wide grin, he announced, “Time for a bit of business.”

The men began to cheer, and Samantha looked at Joel. He shrugged to show he was as confused as she was. Glancing around the room, she saw grins on all the faces surrounding them, but an uneasy shiver cut through her. What were these men waiting for? It might be something she did not wish to see. When Kevin rose to refill his mug at the bar, she felt bereft. She wanted both men with her, to safeguard her from the lunacy, which seemed to run rampant in the north.

Applause greeted two men carrying a large meat scale onto the stage. From one hook hung a sling. The other side held a flat board attached to four wires to keep it even. They placed it carefully in the middle of the broad platform. Dipping their hats with mock gentility, they leapt down onto the floor to watch the entertainment to come.

Another man leaned forward and grabbed the hands of a dance hall girl and pulled her up onto the stage. Her crimson locks glowed in the lanterns lighting the stage. The shoulder straps of her gown dipped immodestly onto her arms, revealing too much of her full breasts. A heated blush filled Samantha's cheeks as a low, primitive murmur of admiration rumbled through the room.

“It's all right, Sam,” came a whisper, breaking her fascination with the woman strutting on the stage.

She forced her gaze from the spectacle to meet the concerned expression on Joel's face. “Is it?” Her voice trembled. “Is it really?”

Taking her hand, he held it beneath the table, stroking it to ease the pulse he felt throbbing in her wrist. He suspected she would feel even more agitated when she realized what was actually taking place. This was not the first time this had happened, he knew, although he had never witnessed the enactment of this unique Klondike custom.

The skinny man on the stage raised the woman's hand as she dipped in a deep bow, offering the view of even more skin to those closest to her. He called, “You all know this is Lucky Lille. You all know I asked her to be my wife.”

“And I told him no!” the gaudily dressed woman called out shrilly. The announcement brought peals of laughter from the floor.

“So I offered her a sum, payable tonight, if she would marry me.” He doffed his hat, revealing his balding head. “And this time—”