At the Rainbow's End (35 page)

When they had put several storefronts between themselves and the man, Joel demanded, “And how do you know him?”

Samantha looked at him in surprise. She had not heard jealousy in his voice since before the snow marooned them in the cabin. Didn't he know her aching heart belonged solely to him?

“I met Mr. Bingham when I was in Dawson last summer. I'm surprised he remembered me.”

“Samantha,” he said coolly, “you aren't easily forgotten. Then, too, few ladies come to Dawson. I just wondered how you could know scum like Moose Bingham.”

“Even ‘scum' like to have their shirts cleaned occasionally. He was a patron at Mrs. Kellogg's laundry.” Stopping in the middle of the snow covered street, she clasped her gloved hands in front of her. Her chin lifted in defiance. “Why can't you teli me what's really wrong? You can't be this upset by me being polite to a stranger.”

“I can't?” His frigid tone cut deep into her heart, but she refused to be daunted.

“I didn't know our engagement restricted me from speaking pleasantly to a man I knew briefly in a most businesslike capacity.”

He frowned as he spoke in a rough voice, “You should remember that many consider such pleasantness an invitation to further intimacy.”

In spite of her attempt to curtail it, her laughter burst forth. His scowl deepened, but she could not curb her amusement. “I have told you before that I can take care of myself. I lived in Dawson for two weeks before you and Kevin deemed it the proper time to come to see me.”

“Proper?” he snarled at her sarcasm. “You know we were slaving—”

“I didn't, then. I thought you didn't care.”

“This is a stupid time to discuss things which happened months ago.”

Rage brought hot tears to her eyes. “Everything I feel is stupid, isn't it? If only once you would accept my feelings! They're just as important as your so, so sensitive ones! Perhaps it's good you decided not to be a professional musician. You would just take from your audience, and give nothing back!”

“What do you know of that?”

“I know I may have been a fool, agreeing to marry a man who measures love by his own joy and worries nothing about the woman he professes to love!”

He grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her to him, his lips burning into hers. Her determination surprised him when she wrenched herself out of his arms. Ignoring her fiery expression, he recaptured her. Then her gloved hand slammed against his cheek.

Backing away from him, seeing the fury on his wind-scratched face, Samantha wondered if she saw him clearly for the first time.

“I did ask you to marry me, didn't I?”

“I wasn't talking about that first night,” she murmured, hurt by his vicious tone. “That night you were the Joel Gilchrist I love. Since then you have changed so much. Are you punishing me for what that woman did to you? I'm not your precious Camilla. I don't lead two men on until I'm sure which one will bring me the best rewards.”

“Shut up!” he shouted. “Don't talk like that about Camilla! I don't want to hear her name on your lips!”

Samantha backed away from him, horror distorting her face. “You still love her! You love her, and you have used me!” When he did not deny her words, she knew they were the truth. Tears glistened on her eyelashes as she moaned, “That's it, isn't it? That's why you have been so cruel and distant all week. I thought you cared about me!”

“I do, Samantha—Sam.” He tried to put his arms around her, but she spun away. “Sam, you have to understand. I care about you like I feared I never would be able to care about anyone, after …” He hurried on to cover his hesitation, “I think you are Wonderful. Certainly I can't imagine another woman bringing me the pleasure you create in me. It's just …”

“You still love her.”

He nodded, regretfully. “I … think I do … But Sam,” he urged as he saw the pain flicker across her face, “listen, give me time to forget her. I've been tormented by confusion—”

She turned her back on him. “At least this solves one problem,” she said bitterly. “There's no need to tell Kevin anything. I've been a fool, believing the words you whispered when you were lonely for a woman.” Her voice broke as she added, “I should've stayed in Dawson. At least there, I could have had luxurious clothes and quarters if I sold myself to a man who didn't love me!”

“Sam, I do love you. Didn't I ask you to marry me, so I can take you home with me?”

Her eyes narrowed in comprehension. “Home? To Virginia? So that's what you want! To go back to Lynchburg with wealth, to parade me before your darling Camilla. You want to lavish things you wanted to give her on me, to get revenge by showing her what she
could
have had!” Her calm completely shattered, she sobbed bitterly. “Well, I can tell you one thing, Joel Gilchrist. She was smart, far smarter than me. She used you, instead of being the one used.”

“Sam—” he said in the tender tone she had missed. She feared he spoke like this only to seduce her.

“No!” she cried, “I want more from love. I won't just be a pawn, to make another woman jealous.” She stepped away from his outstretched hands. Tears burned against her frozen face. “Good-bye, Joel. Find another woman to play your games. I won't do that anymore!”

He ran after her as she hurried along the street. When a miner reeled in front of him, Joel shoved him aside without mercy, determined to stop whatever she had planned.

Samantha had nothing planned. She fled from him and the pain he had created so easily with his callous disregard of her love. Hearing his footsteps, she began to race along the boardwalk, tears coursing her cheeks. If she allowed him to catch up with her, she feared she might submit to the longing to be his, even now. Despite his twisting of her heart, part of her still yearned to belong to him. At his familiar touch on her arm, she screamed. Twirling to face him, she struggled. He growled at her to desist, but she refused to listen to him. She had allowed him to be false with her too many times. She would not let that happen again.

Suddenly she felt someone pulling her out of Joel's arms. Stunned, she looked up the red front of a North-West Mounted Policeman's uniform and recognized Corporal Barren, a friend of Constable French's whom she had met last summer.

“Miss Perry!” he gasped, and then scowled in Joel's direction. A venomous tone came into his voice as he asked, “Is this man bothering you, Miss Perry?”

Samantha hesitated for a second as she stared at Joel's infuriated face. Then she released a long sigh. She could not make Joel into the man she wanted by wishing. It was too late for whatever might have been for them. Camilla would always stand between them and happiness.

“Yes,” she said without emotion.

“Sam—” Joel stepped forward.

Corporal Barron moved between him and Miss Perry. “Sir, I suggest you leave.”

“Look here, Corporal, she's—”

“Sir,” he repeated, “I suggest you leave. Or you'll be using some of that fired-up energy to help build the new warehouse down by the quay. Miss Perry has made it clear she doesn't invite your attentions.”

“Invite?” Joel's mouth twisted. Staring at her pale face, he wanted to remind her of the time she came to the stable begging him to love her. Suddenly he dropped his hands to his side. “All right, I'll leave. I'll leave right after I say something to
Miss
Perry.”

“Sir …”

Barren's voice faded as Samantha put her hand on his arm. “It's fine. I'll listen to him.”

Joel took a single pace toward her. Staring directly into her eyes, he smiled. “Sam, it's been fun having you around. Thank you very much for the good times this winter.”

Whatever she had expected to hear, it had not been this heartless farewell. Pain swelled in her. He had no regrets about using her. He was only sorry that his plan to gain vengeance against Camilla had failed.

A smile tilting the corners of her lips, she said softly, “I hope you rot in hell, Mr. Gilchrist.”

The Mountie did not speak as she motioned that she wanted to walk along. He offered her his arm and she accepted. Neither looked back at the man standing in astounded silence, watching the one who loved him most walk out of his life.

As Joel readied the sled for the long trip back to Fifteen Above, he wondered over and over how he could have told Sam what he had. He told himself that he had owed her honesty. He, too, needed to be honest. He had been truthful with her since they met, especially when he held her in his arms. Then, and only then, had he been able to forget the spiteful eyes of the distant Camilla, who had used him and cast him aside. Then, and especially then, had he believed he could truly love the charming sprite who graced the Klondike, who had fired his soul with joy.

Forming fists over and over, he leaned against a wall of the livery. Camilla had broken his heart, but that did not excuse him. It made his crime more heinous, for he had known the pain Sam would feel.

How simple it had seemed when Kevin first spoke of the idea of finding a woman to live at Fifteen Above! Joel had been happy to accept the responsibility of writing enticingly worded letters to women who answered. He did not think at the time of what his plan would cost the woman.

Despite their strange beginning, he did love Sam, for many reasons which had nothing to do with Camilla. He could not pinpoint the exact moment when he had begun to look forward to the arrival of one of Sam's letters, eager to read what she had written. It had been partly the truth, when he said he had fallen in love with her before she arrived in Dawson.

The thought of Fifteen Above without her pert smile and her sharp wit sent a pain deep into the coldness at his center. A thousand scenes of Sam coursed through his head. Sam working vigorously in the yard at her laundry tub. Sam laboring by his side in the icy Bonanza. Sam serving them supper. Sam soft and loving beneath him, as he savored her sweetness.

He groaned and looked up at the stars, which twinkled more brightly than they ever had in Virginia. Sam … had he pretended to love her because of Camilla? Or was that a lie to Sam? And to himself?

Chapter Nineteen

The streets pulsed with the life of the city as she walked along the boardwalk. With her eyes on the planks beneath her feet, she could avoid the stares of the men. In that way, Dawson had not changed at all during her tenancy at Fifteen Above. Although the city had been built up much since the summer, she found her way easily along the rutted roads she had learned.

She stumbled in one of the potholes. When she cursed, it was not at the road, but at Joel Gilchrist. She could not forgive him for stealing her dearest dreams from her.

A sense of having lived this identical scene in the past swept over her as she neared the laundry. This time Constable French did not accompany her. This time she was not hopeful. Only her fear and the sense of being adrift were the same.

Mrs. Kellogg opened the door when she heard a muted knock. “Samantha?” Rushing to close out the cold, she drew the young woman into her steamy laundry. “Child, what are you doing out on such a day? I swear winter has decided to return with a vengeance. Can you believe it's April? It was boiling hot by this time last year.”

“Mrs. Kellogg,” she interrupted, her teeth chattering, “you said when I left that I could come back to work for you if things didn't work out with—”

“With your Mr. Houseman?”

Samantha smiled wryly. She had forgotten how much her life had changed since she left here with Kevin. Tonight she was too heartbroken to explain. All she said was, “I need a place to stay until the
Merwyn
sails again, when the ice breaks up on the Yukon.”

“Of course you can stay here.” The older woman patted her shoulder soothingly. “It'll be wonderful to have you here again. I missed you so much after you went with him.”

“I missed you, too.”

“Does Constable French know you are back in Dawson?”

“I—I don't know.” Samantha had not thought of the Mountie since she left Dawson. Her heart shattered from Joel's cruelty, she did not want to be involved with any man now.

Mrs. Kellogg did not add anything on that subject. She chatted about local events, Samantha glanced at the room where she had slept, happily deluded that love was waiting for her. When she saw the pain on the young woman's face, the laundress hurried back to work. She urged Samantha to join her, in the steamy room, where no one would notice tears falling from dark eyes to roll along colorless cheeks.

“Miss Perry!”

She fixed her smile in place as Constable French rode toward her. Two days had passed since she had spoke to his colleague Corporal Barron, and he expected her friend would come to check on her. Of course, according to Mrs. Kellogg, personal matters kept him busy these days.

“Good afternoon, Constable.”

“I heard Mrs. Kellogg had a pretty lady with dark hair working for her.” He slid easily from the horse. “I could not believe the description, even when Barron told me he had interrupted a ‘discussion' between you and a man who matches Joel Gilchrist's description.”

“I'm here, as you can see.”

“Why?”

Turning away, she said, “I didn't know you dealt with the private concerns of your jurisdiction as well as legal matters, Constable.”

“Miss Perry—or is it Mrs. Houseman? Or Mrs. Gilchrist? After you left I heard that those two concocted a scheme to get you up here. If I had had any idea …” He left the sentence drift on the cool air, then said gruffly, “The tale of the mail order bride with two husbands waiting for her entertained most of Dawson through the winter.”

She was glad her face was averted. She did not want him to see how much it hurt to hear the name she had longed to have for her own. Softly she answered, “It's Samantha Perry, still.”