Chapter Forty-Four

I said nothing to Sheridan about finding gold. Could the man’s foolish fantasy be reality? Was this indeed a gold mountain? Back in the Savoy, we enjoyed a hearty laugh at the expense of men who came to the Yukon expecting to pick nuggets off the ground like windfall apples, yet today I’d done that very thing. I touched my pocket. I’d pushed the nuggets in deep, past the knife. They weren’t particularly big nuggets; I’d seen larger ones laid down to finance a night of drinking or a serious hand of poker, or as a gift to a dance hall girl.

But considering it had taken all of about one minute’s effort, I’d done rather well.

I eyed Sheridan. He was ahead of me, moving fast. The path was increasingly steep, carved between enormous boulders and walls of rock. Perhaps it had been a watercourse long ago, picking its way down the side of the mountain. Surprisingly, the path wasn’t too rocky but smooth hard-packed earth in most places. As we climbed, it got steadily colder, and I shivered in my sweater and tattered evening dress. Fingers of icy mist swirled around the path, getting thicker as we walked. Ahead and above us, the mountains disappeared into the clouds.

I ran my index finger across the sheathed blade of the knife. Sheridan’s back was protected by the packs he carried, but his front was exposed. Easy enough to slip around him so I was on the higher ground and thus taller than he, murmur sweet nothings into his ear, stroke his cheek with my left hand, playfully lift his head up.

Expose the throat.

A single silent swipe with my right hand, and that would be the end of Mr. Paul Sheridan.

And then what? I stopped and turned around. We were very high and the limitless tundra lay at my feet. The carpet of flowers and grasses and rock, far below, stretching as far as I could see, reminded me of the Highlands when the heather bloomed. It was so quiet up here, not even the sweet murmur of leaves rustling in the wind. Sheridan had turned a corner and passed out of sight. I heard a scratch on rock and looked up to see two sheep watching me. They stood on a ledge that was scarcely more than a crack in the solid surface. They were white with brown horns swooping upward, curling at the edges. Large brown eyes blinked at me, and their mouths moved as they ate unseen grasses.

I imagined a city at the bottom of the mountain. Dance halls and bars and waffle bakeries and tent shops. Doctors and dentists and pickpockets. Mining officials and priests. Gentlemen and drunkards and layabouts. Prostitutes and percentage girls and laundry women. The tundra churned into mud, wildlife fleeing. Everything beautiful and powerful subdued or broken in service of the all-encompassing lust for gold.

Who would rule here? The North-West Mounted Police, as in Dawson, or the likes of Soapy Smith, as in Skagway?

Or me?

I wouldn’t be a queen and Gold Mountain would not be my kingdom. This was Canada, after all. A dominion in the British Empire. Not unclaimed territory. But I could stake a claim. I could make a great deal of money. I would be rich beyond all my dreams.

First, Mr. Paul Sheridan would have to go.

Without warning, the sheep leapt from one crevice to another and were gone. I heard a sound, someone calling. Perhaps it was the wind, whistling through rock. Something moved at the edges of my vision. I pulled my eyes away from the horizon and focused on the path below, twisting and turning down the mountain. I’d thought I’d seen something, but all was still and nothing moved.

“Will you hurry up, woman.”

I turned to see Sheridan standing on the path several feet above me. His hands were on his hips and he was breathing hard. He looked positively angry.

“I’m getting tired,” I said, putting on a pout. “I want supper. I don’t suppose you’ve managed to shoot anything.” I waved my hand to indicate our surroundings. “I can’t imagine where we’re going to make camp. There’s not enough wood to start a fire and not a flat piece of ground on which to lie within miles.”

“Stop your moaning,” he replied. “You’ll have all the comfort you need soon enough. Now get moving.”

I lowered my head submissively and took a step. He turned and continued on his way. I slid the knife out of its sheath, to check if it would come clear easily, and then put it back.

Soon enough.