“I don’t know it for a fact,” Jennings had told Frank, “but I figure Soapy must be some sort of crook. I don’t know for sure because the boys and me never got into town much. They didn’t like us there.”
Frank couldn’t blame the townspeople for that. Lawless hardcases like Ben Cregar and his gang made it difficult for those who had come to Alaska to make their fortunes legally.
Now, as Frank looked at Soapy Smith with narrowed eyes, he felt an instinctive dislike for the man and agreed with Jennings’s hunch that Smith was a crook masquerading as a slick community leader.
“This is Yeah Mow Hopkins,” Smith went on, nodding to the burly man in the derby, “and Sid Dixon.” That was the ferret-faced man in the cloth cap. “A couple of associates of mine.”
Smith paused, obviously waiting for Frank to introduce himself and the others. “My name’s Morgan,” he said. “This is Mrs. Devereaux, Mr. Conway, and Mr. Jennings. The young ladies are traveling with us.”
“I can see that,” Smith murmured. “What brings such a bevy of beauties to a backwater burg like this?”
“The ladies and I are bound for Whitehorse,” Fiona said stiffly, “where they will be marrying gentlemen who are waiting for them there.”
“Oh, ho!” A grin tugged at Smith’s mouth. “Mail-order brides! I should have known someone would come up with that idea sooner or later. Now that I think about it, I’m surprised that it’s taken this long.” He glanced toward the docks. “I’m also surprised that you didn’t come in by ship. There’s one due any day now. Overdue, in fact.”
“The Montclair?” Frank asked.
A puzzled frown appeared on Smith’s narrow face. Hopkins’s expression remained stolid and unreadable. From the way Dixon’s eyes darted around nervously and he constantly licked his lips, Frank figured he was some sort of drug addict.
“That’s right, the Montclair,” Smith said. “Do you have news of her?”
“Unfortunately, yes. She sank in a bad storm a couple of days ago.” Frank leaned his head toward his companions. “We’re the only survivors, as far as I know.”
He included Jennings in that group, figuring it was easier to do that than to try to explain the real circumstances that had led to him accompanying them.
Smith’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “You survived the ship sinking in rough seas? That’s mighty lucky, Mister…Morgan, was it?”
“That’s right. I won’t deny that we had guardian angels watching over us.”
“Seems like it,” Smith said. “Where’d you get those horses?”
Frank had hoped to avoid having to explain about that, but obviously, he wasn’t going to be able to do so.
“We were attacked by a gang of outlaws. When the fight was over, they didn’t need their horses anymore.”
Sid Dixon let out a low whistle. “You must be a fightin’ fool, mister, if you killed a whole gang.”
“Never said I killed them by myself,” Frank drawled.
Smith chuckled. “Even more impressive. It’s not every day you meet a group of mail-order brides who can tangle with outlaws and come out on top.”
Frank didn’t want to continue this discussion. He asked, “Have you got a hotel here in town?”
“Yeah. It ain’t fancy, but you can put up there.” Smith turned to point along the curving street. “Go on around the corner, past the general mercantile, and you’ll see the Klondike Hotel on the left.”
“I thought the Klondike country was in Canada,” Conway said.
“It is, but since that’s where so many of the gents who come to Skagway are bound, the proprietor thought that would be a good name for the hotel,” Smith explained.
Frank nodded. “Much obliged for the information.” He lifted Stormy’s reins.
“If there’s anything else I can help you with, come on back down here to Clancy’s place and ask for me,” Smith said quickly. “I’m sort of the unofficial mayor of Skagway, I guess you could say, and Clancy’s is the unofficial city hall, until I can get a place of my own built.”
“We’ll remember that,” Frank said. In reality, though, he wanted as little as possible to do with Soapy Smith. He didn’t trust the man and had been suspicious of him on sight.
In fact, there was something familiar about Smith, both his name and his appearance, and Frank couldn’t help but wonder if he had run into the man somewhere before. A memory tickled at the back of his brain, and he knew it would come to him sooner or later.
In the meantime, he led the group around the corner, following Smith’s directions, and found the Klondike Hotel. As Smith had said, it wasn’t fancy. It was a one-story frame building with a false front, and extending out from each side were a couple of wings with walls made of canvas. In the winter, which was coming soon, it would probably be ice-cold in those rooms, but at least the canvas would block the wind and keep most of the snow out.
A cadaverous man with a smile on his skull-like face stood near the hotel entrance with a Bible in his hands. “Welcome to Skagway, my friends,” he said as Frank and the others drew rein in front of the place. “I’m Reverend Bowers, and if you have any spiritual needs to tend to, I’d be happy to help you in coming to the Lord. In the meantime, I’m collecting for our permanent fund for widows and orphans, if you’d care to contribute.”
Frank swung down from Stormy’s back and shook his head. “Sorry, Reverend. We don’t have any spare cash.” He didn’t add that so far he hadn’t seen any children at all in Skagway, and the only woman he had seen other than the ones with him was an Indian whore leaning in the doorway of Clancy’s Saloon. Frank wasn’t sure there was a single widow or orphan in the whole settlement, not counting Fiona, of course.
“Well, if I can be of assistance to you, don’t hesitate to let me know.” Still smiling, Reverend Bowers moved off down the muddy street.
As Frank helped Jennings down from the horse, the blinded outlaw asked quietly, “Was that that phony sky pilot talkin’ to you, Mr. Morgan?”
“Reverend Bowers? Yeah.”
“Don’t trust him. He’s in with Soapy Smith. I got a feelin’ he’s a crook, too.”
“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.”
Frank left Jennings standing there holding on to the hitch rail where he looped Stormy’s reins, then moved over to Goldy to help Fiona dismount. He would have tried to help Meg, too, but she swung down with ease on her own. Conway lifted Jessica from the saddle with one hand on either side of her waist, handling her as if she weighed no more than a doll. Then he hurried to help the other young women dismount, too, although he wasn’t quite as solicitious of them.
The Klondike had a narrow porch that ran along the front, with a couple of ladderback chairs on it. A bulky bundle of furs was piled on one of the chairs. As Frank started past it, the bundle of furs moved, and he was startled to see a head lift from it. An old man’s wizened eyes peered out from under a fur cap and a mop of white hair. Not much of his leathery skin was visible because a bushy white beard covered most of his face.
“I heard the rev’rend put the touch on ye,” the old-timer rasped, “so I won’t bother. But if ye’ve ever got a spare crust o’ bread or such, I’d be obliged if ye’d remember ol’ Salty.”
“That’s you?” Frank asked.