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“Fine,” he growled. “Stay here with your precious gold.”
“I—” she started to explain, but he interrupted.
“Just remember in two more weeks you won’t have a choice.”
Anger at how he assumed her answer and how he wouldn’t let her speak flared inside her.
“Don’t forget that,” he said, stomping toward the door. “Two weeks.”
“You’re the one who has forgotten,” she snapped as he grasped the handle. When he turned, she folded her arms over her chest, where her heart was burning. “I told you no man will ever tell me what to do, and that includes you.” It wasn’t much, but it was all she had as a comeback.
“What are you saying?” he asked. “That you aren’t leaving with me in two weeks?”
That, too, had kept her awake at night. Mad Dog wouldn’t find her here, but once they sailed south, he would. Something deep inside told her that.
Overcome with frustration, with fury, Maddie spouted, “Maybe.”
Her heart hit the floor at the way Lucky’s expression went completely blank.
“We could build a house here,” she said. “In Alaska, and—”
Without a word, he pulled the door open and left.
Maddie sank onto the nearest chair and laid her head on the table. Building a house here wasn’t what she wanted, but neither was running from Mad Dog all over again. She didn’t have time to contemplate any of it before a knock sounded on the door.
Wiping the tears off her cheeks, she stood and bid entrance.
Tim had cut holes in a canvas tarp and fashioned it as a raincoat, complete with a hood, and probably hadn’t even heard her tell him to come in. He pulled the tarp over his head. “I’m here to help you. Cole said to.”
Maddie nodded, and though her eyes were smarting so sharply it was hard to see, she withheld the tears, until that night, when Lucky didn’t come home.
* * *
After delivering the gold and accepting his payment, Cole told the two men with him he had other business to attend to and would meet them at their boat in a couple of hours. He then went to the shipyard. Boats were scheduled to sail for Nome every day until it was no longer possible. He’d already checked on that, but today he’d buy tickets. Two of them. Actually, three—he’d promised Jack to arrange his passage when the time came.
The time had come, all right. He’d taken all he could of Alaska. He chose a date two weeks out and paid for first-class arrangements, having no idea what that might entitle. He went to the bank next, where he made his deposits and recorded everything in the book from his pocket. He’d set up accounts for each man in his employ and deposited their shares at the same time he did his and Maddie’s. Theirs was a joint account. Mr. and Mrs. Cole DuMont. Seeing the names on paper stirred his already sour stomach.
Maddie was frustrated, he understood that, and in truth, that wasn’t bothering him as much as other things. She hadn’t been herself lately, and he feared something more than gold mining was causing it. She didn’t want to leave Alaska, even though she’d promised she would. In a sense, he was doing the same thing to Maddie his mother had done to him. Instead of forcing her to stay, he was forcing her to leave. One was no better than the other.
Another understanding had formed inside him, and brought empathy along with it. For Rachel. He now understood she’d been so clinging, so insistent, because she’d wanted a man to love her above all else. That hadn’t been him. He hadn’t loved her, and he sincerely hoped she’d found that in James. It also made him understand his mother more. And, in a cheerless way, Maddie. She didn’t need a man to love her above all else. Had claimed that from the beginning. The thing he’d admired about her was now gutting him.
Lost in his thoughts, Cole glanced around the alleyway that would take him back to the river when someone said his name. He pushed the dead air out of his lungs as his gaze landed on a man leaning against a building a short distance ahead.
Vaguely familiar, Cole responded when instinct told him to check his weapon by hovering one hand over his side.
“Remember me, DuMont?” the man asked.
The drawl put the slicked-back hair and beady eyes into clear perspective. “Yes, Ridge, I remember you,” Cole answered.
“You stole something from me last spring, and I want it back.”
Cole’s insides went completely cold. “I never stole anything from you.”
Alan Ridge pushed off the wall, and the cane in one hand proved he still had a bum leg. “A black-haired beauty,” he said. “You must remember her. How you stole her from my men down in California.”
