Gold Digger. Vicki Delany

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СКАЧАТЬ Her bosom heaved, and the froth of many-times-repaired lace at the neck of her blue gown quivered.

      “I’m anxious to obtain some background information about Dawson and its people.” Ireland took Irene’s arm. “Perhaps you can help with my research.”

      Ray pushed the onlookers aside. “Can I walk ye to the dressing room, Irene?” he asked.

      She looked at Jack Ireland. Well dressed, well-spoken, sophisticated. A newspaperman. She looked at Ray Walker. A Dawson barman. Scraggy, skinny, with an accent so sharp she sometimes couldn’t understand a word he said.

      “Thanks, Mr. Walker. But Mr. Ireland here’s offered. Haven’t you, Mr. Ireland?”

      “It would be my pleasure.” The American tossed my partner a look of such superiority that I wanted to slap him. Ray’s face closed as tightly as the shutters on the windows of Mr. Eaton’s Toronto store on a Sunday afternoon.

      Ray and I watched Ireland guide Irene through the crowd. She clung to his arm as if she couldn’t possibly navigate the route without his help.

      “Don’t worry about it,” I said to Ray. “She’ll empty his pockets, and then he’ll be gone.”

      My partner glared at me. “For God’s sake, Fiona, change that dress. Ye look like me uncle Cameron after a night sleeping the drink off in the gutter ’cause he’s afraid to face me granny.”

      He went back to the bar, elbowing a drunk aside who dared to step into his path. Someone shouted in the gambling hall, whether because he was winning or losing, impossible to say. It was almost eight o’clock, time for the dance hall to open. My wrist hurt, and I stamped my foot in frustration. Where was my son with my supper and my ripped up petticoat?

      As if mentally summoned, Angus arrived, clutching a bundle to his chest. Close on his heels came Constable Richard Sterling.

      Angus handed me the package, and I accepted it with one hand. It was still warm.

      “Good evening, Constable,” I said. “Mrs. MacGillivray.” He’d changed into a fresh uniform, shiny buttons done up to the neck, a clean hat straight on his head, every wild curl forced into submission. “If your arm’s bothering you, perhaps you should see the doctor.”

      “No need, Constable. I’ll be fine. If you’ll excuse me, my son’s brought my dinner.”

      Graham Donohue was next though the doors. He laughed heartily as he walked through the room, slapping men on the back in greeting.

      “Nice dress, Fiona.” He looked me up and down. “Is that the latest fashion in Europe?”

      “Oh, shut up,” I said. “I hear there was some excitement out on Front Street earlier.”

      “Sam Collins saved the Vanderhaege sisters,” Angus told him, delighting in being the spreader of good news. “Mother helped him.”

      Graham looked at me, his head cocked to one side in disbelief.

      “I didn’t help matters in the slightest. You missed a great story.”

      “Luck of the job. I’ve been hearing about it all over town, came in to see if Sam’s here. All of Dawson’s talking about him.”

      “Constable Sterling was a hero, too,” Angus said. “He saved Miss Vanderhaege. The older one.”

      “A hero also,” I corrected.

      “That’s what I said.”

      “Never mind.” Graham looked at Sterling.

      “So I’ve heard. Well done, Constable. I suppose they’ll give you a medal. Or something.”

      “All in the line of duty, Donohue. Not something you’d know much about. Angus, if you’ve given your mother her things, get out of here. If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. MacGillivray.”

      He turned and was swallowed up by the crowd. Men clutching drinks in hands filled the space he’d vacated.

      “I gave Sam the rest of the day off,” I said as one skinny young fellow trod on my foot. I threw him my most ferocious glare, and he retreated into the safety of the pack.

      “That was kind of you,” Graham said. “Must be a first. No, I’m wrong—that was Helen. You’ll be applying for sainthood soon enough, Fee.”

      “If you’ll excuse me…”

      “How are the Misses Vanderhaege doing, Mr. Donohue?” Angus asked. “Have you heard?”

      “I’ve just come from the infirmary. The doctor says they’ll both be fine. Anna Marie is suffering from smoke in her lungs, and Anike has burns on her back and legs, but they’ll heal. We’re lucky the whole street didn’t go up in flames and take the town with it.”

      I shrugged. “Too darn wet.” The package was cooling in my hands. Bread by the smell of it, and fresh. “I want to eat and tidy up. Angus, tell Ray I’ll be down shortly and then go home.”

      “Yes, Ma.”

      I spun on my heels. “What did you say?”

      “Yes, Mother.”

      “That’s better.”

      Chapter Ten

      Angus made his way towards the bar. Richard Sterling was standing with his back to the wall, underneath a painting of a lady wearing nothing but stockings and a bonnet, watching the men. Ray was behind the bar; his hands never stopped moving, but his eyes remained focused on the door leading to the gambling room, and the dance hall beyond. Something was bothering the little Scotsman: not hard to guess what. Everyone in town knew that Ray carried a torch taller than himself for Irene. The Savoy was busy tonight, and with Sam Collins off and Ray distracted, the two newer bartenders were having trouble keeping up.

      Angus looked back to see his mother carrying her parcel to the stairs leading to the second floor, moving slowly under the weight of her mud-encrusted skirts. Only once, as she reached out to grab the banister without thinking about it, did her composure slip and her face twist in pain.

      Graham Donohue slapped Angus on the back, and they walked towards the bar together. A man sporting a tangled grey beard so long that it almost touched his belt offered to buy the boy a drink. Angus’s ears flushed, but the miner winked at the watching policeman.

      “I’ll take you up on that offer, George,” Donohue said with a laugh.

      “Be a frosty day in hell before I buy you a drink, Graham Donohue. Which reminds me, I hear you got beat out by the newcomer.”

      Donohue stopped smiling. “What newcomer might that be?”

      “American fellow. Name of England or France, some foreign country.”

      “Ireland?”

      “Yeah, that’s the one,” the miner said, enjoying himself enormously. He ran one dirty finger over the rim of his glass. “He was here when it all happened, СКАЧАТЬ