“Somebody tried to kidnap the women and kill the rest of us.” Frank paused, then added meaningfully, “I figured you knew all about it.”
Smith shook his head. “No, this is the first I’ve heard exactly what happened.”
That was a bald-faced lie, and all of them knew it, but Frank didn’t have any proof to the contrary. He thought about the man whose throat had been cut and glanced at Sid Dixon. The little opium addict gave him a sly grin that caused anger to well up inside Frank. Dixon could have untied the man and helped him to escape. Instead, he had taken the quick, easy way out and used his knife, probably because he enjoyed it. As far as Frank was concerned, a man like Dixon was lower than a snake’s belly.
“Anyway, I’d heard that you were leaving this morning,” Smith went on, “and I just wanted to come over and wish you good luck on your journey. I’m sorry we couldn’t come to an agreement on a business arrangement,” he shrugged, “but I respect your decision on that.”
“You came to wish us good luck,” Frank said, allowing a tone of skepticism into his voice.
“Sure. It’s a long way to Whitehorse. A long, hard way.” Smith was still smiling, but hatred burned in his dark, deep-set eyes. “And I figure that you’ll be able to use all the luck you can get.”
Chapter 24
Smith and his men left, but the veiled threat in the man’s words stayed with Frank as he called the women out of the stable and got them loaded onto the sleds. They were bundled up in parkas, fur hats, and blankets. Fiona, Elizabeth, and Lucy rode on the first sled, the one that would be handled by Salty, with bundles of supplies lashed on in front of them. The arrangement was the same on the other sleds: supplies in front, passengers in back.
As Frank had expected, Meg had volunteered when she found out that one of the women would have to handle a sled. She took the second sled, with Marie, Ruth, and Ginnie. Lizzie and Maureen were on the third sled, with Bart Jennings standing at the gee-pole. Jessica and Elizabeth settled in on the fourth sled, the one that was Pete Conway’s responsibility.
Frank wasn’t surprised that Jessica wanted to be close to Conway. The budding romance between them was obvious, and Frank still thought that might cause trouble once they got to Whitehorse. That problem could be dealt with later, though.
Jennings told Salty and Meg, “If the two of you will sing out pretty often, I should be able to follow you without much trouble. I can still hear just fine. In fact, I think I hear a little better now than I did before I lost my sight.”
Meg patted him on the shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, Mr. Jennings. We won’t let you go astray.”
He shook his head in obvious amazement. “I still can’t get over the way you folks have accepted me, even after all the bad things I done.”
“Yes, but since then you’ve tried to help us as much as you can,” Meg pointed out. “I think most people could use a second chance, don’t you?”
“Some of ’em might even need a third or a fourth chance before it takes,” Jennings said with a smile under the cloth tied around his eyes.
When everything was squared away and ready to go, Frank led Stormy and Goldy out of the stable. He shook hands with Clem, the proprietor, and then swung up into the saddle on Goldy’s back. The street was crowded by now, even though it was still dark. The sun wouldn’t make its brief appearance until later in the day. Many of the citizens of Skagway had turned out to say good-bye to the women who had brought some femininity and excitement to the raw frontier settlement, even if only for a short time.
“You know the trails, Salty,” Frank called to the old-timer. “Lead off whenever you’re ready.”
“All right.” Salty’s beard bristled in the cold air as he stood on the runners at the rear of the sled and looked around at the others. “Ever’body ready at the gee-poles?”
Meg, Jennings, and Conway called out that they were, and Salty lifted a hand over his head and swept it forward.
“Mush, yuh danged hairy varmints!” he called to the sled dogs. “Mush!”
With a noisy chorus of barking, the dogs strained against their traces and pulled ahead, drawing the harnesses taut. The sled’s polished runners began to glide over the snow. The other teams followed the example of the leaders, and with a big racket, including cheers of encouragement from some of the onlookers, all four sleds departed from Skagway.
Frank rode ahead, and Dog bounded even farther in front. The barking of the sled dogs seemed to excite him, and he turned from time to time to bark back at them.
Even though the sun wasn’t up, gray light filled the eastern sky. It would stay that way for hours yet, but during that time, the glow was enough for the travelers to see where they were going. Frank could tell from the light that they were headed almost due north.
He rode ahead of the sleds at times, alongside them at others, and every now and then he dropped well behind them to check on their back trail. Soapy Smith had all but said that he was coming after the women, or at least sending men to run them down and capture them. Frank had a hunch that Smith would let them get away from Skagway before he tried anything else, but not too far. He would want to kill Frank and the other men and take the women prisoner while it would still be fairly easy to get them back to the settlement.
Because of that, Frank knew he would have to be on guard nearly twenty-four hours a day.
Which was a shame in a way because his vigilance didn’t allow him to just ride along and appreciate the magnificent scenery around him. Vast, snow-covered slopes; majestic stands of pine, fir, and spruce trees with their branches also decorated with the white, powdery snow; rugged mountains that were studies in black and white and gray looming over everything…Frank had seen some mighty pretty places in his life, but Alaska was right up there with the best of them.
It was too bad that like most of the other places Frank had been, lurking in all that beauty were scores of dangers, dozens of ways a man could get himself dead in a hurry.
One time when Goldy was trotting alongside Salty’s sled and Frank was leading Stormy, the old-timer pointed into the distance and said, “See that little notch where them two mountains come together?”
“Yeah. Is that where we’re going?”
“That’s White Pass, where we’re headed first. ’Bout thirty miles from here. Chilkoot’s only about ten miles beyond it, but it’s a mighty brutal ten miles. You’ll feel like you’re goin’ straight up a sheet o’ ice durin’ some of it. It’ll be hard goin’ for them horses of yours.”
“They can make it,” Frank said. He had every confidence in the world in Stormy and Goldy.
“The ladies’ll have to get off and walk when we get there. The dogs can’t pull the loads on the sleds and their weight, too, not at that angle. That’s why I told you to get hobnailed boots for all of ’em. Otherwise they won’t be able to make it on the ice. If we’re lucky, there’ll be a little snowpack. It ain’t as slippery. Then, once we get past Chilkoot, things don’t get much easier for a while. The goin’s still slick, it’s just downhill instead of up. We’ll tie the sleds together and put all the dogs behind ’em, instead of in front, until we get down from the pass.”
“What’s the terrain like after that?”
“A mite better. Hills instead o’ mountains. We’ll have to cross some cricks, but they’ll be froze over already and shouldn’t be a problem, long as the ice ain’t too thin.”
“Where’s the border?”
“White Pass. By the time we get to the glacier that runs along there and turn northwest along it toward Chilkoot, we’ll be in Canada.”
Frank nodded. He figured that Smith would make his move before they reached White Pass, not because that landmark was the borderline between Alaska and Canada, but because Smith wouldn’t want to go to the trouble of having to bring the women back that far, over such rugged ground.