Gold Fever. Vicki Delany

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Forester looked up from the gold pans. Fiona was staring at her quite strangely. Miss Witherspoon glanced from one woman to the other.

      “Forester?” Fiona said. “Euila?”

      “That is my name. Do I know you, madam?”

      “I think you might. I’m Mrs…Miss…Mac…I’m Fiona.”

      “Fiona.” Miss Forester exhaled the word in a long sigh. “Fiona. Good heavens…” She crumbled to the street in a dainty, although scrawny, heap.

      Chapter Five

      I might have joined her in the dust of Bowery Street myself had I not been concerned for the condition of dress and hat. Euila Forester. I wouldn’t have recognized her at all, had not Angus pointed out the similarity of our accents then called her by her surname. Euila Forester. Of all people. Here in Dawson, Yukon Territory, Canada.

      Men ran from all over. So many eager hands reached out to help Euila to her feet, she was in danger of being trampled. Angus crouched beside her, unsure of what to do. Mr. Mann kept a wary eye on his property, and Euila’s companion, a formidable lady of more advanced years, stood out of the way and scribbled in her notebook.

      “Give her some air. Stand back, you fools!” Graham Donohue pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “Angus, unbutton the lady’s collar,” he ordered.

      Angus gasped. “I couldn’t!” I looked around the crowd, hoping to find a female amongst the onlookers. None but Miss Witherspoon, still writing furiously. “For goodness sake, I’ll do it.” I knelt beside Euila, cursing the dust as it settled into my skirts. At least it hadn’t rained in a few days, nor had a horse recently left evidence of its passing.

      Euila’s dress was done up to her chin by a formidable row of tiny mother-of-pearl buttons. My fingers fumbled, and after seemingly endless effort, I managed to release one. Throwing propriety to the winds, I grabbed either side of the fabric and pulled. Mother-of-pearl flew in all directions. Euila moaned, and her eyes flickered.

      “She’s coming around,” a man shouted. “Fiona saved her.”

      “Fiona?” Euila whispered.

      Someone placed a cup of water in my hand, and I lifted Euila’s head to help her take a cautious sip. She sat up, grabbed my hand and drained the cup.

      She seemed to be in no danger of collapsing again, so I got to my feet. “Graham, Angus, help her up,” I ordered. The front of my dress was an absolute mess—streaked with dust and spotted with mud and I-hated-to-think-what from knee to hem. I made a few feeble swipes, hoping to wipe it all off, to no effect.

      While I examined my garment, Angus and Graham each grabbed Euila by one arm. As she began to stagger upright, two other men got behind her and pushed, and the four of them managed to get the poor thing to her feet with about as much dignity as if they were unloading a reluctant cow from the belly of a steamship.

      “Three cheers for Fee!” someone shouted. I smiled at no one in particular and waved my right hand as the crowd took up the cry. I hadn’t done anything, but I never miss the opportunity to be the centre of attention.

      “What should we do with her, Ma?” Angus asked.

      “Don’t call me that,” I said, automatically. “You know I hate it.” One of the too-eager helpers had a firm hold on Euila’s bottom. I whacked his arm, and he sheepishly released his grip. “I don’t know,” I said. “Take her to lie down, I guess.”

      “Where are you staying, miss?” Graham asked. Euila blinked at him. I will admit that she looked even worse than I. The back of her dress was filthy; the neckline was torn almost to the top of the breastbone; one of the unfortunate birds on her hat (what could she possibly have been thinking when she purchased that hat!) tilted precariously, and a good deal of her hair had escaped its pins. Her hands and face were covered in dust.

      “Miss?” Graham repeated. “Can we take you to your hotel?”

      Miss Witherspoon dropped her pencil and notebook into her cavernous bag. “We have reserved rooms at the Richmond,” she announced. “Take her there.”

      “Are you well enough to walk, miss?” Graham asked.

      Euila blinked again. “I think so.” She gave Graham a rather sickly smile. He tucked her arm under one of his. Angus did the same on the other side.

      “Angus,” I said. “Get back to work.”

      “Zee boy help,” Mr. Mann said.

      “No.”

      “But, Ma… Mother…”

      “No buts. Back to work. You.” I pointed to one of the helpers, the one who hadn’t taken advantage of the opportunity to grab a handful of Euila’s scrawny bottom. “Assist Mr. Donohue.”

      “My pleasure, Mrs. Fiona, ma’am.” He leapt forward to do his duty. And the little procession, led by Miss Witherspoon with her head held high, made their way through the parting crowd into town.

      “Mother, I don’t see…”

      “I must go home and change, Angus,” I said. “Enjoy your biscuits.”

      I almost broke into an undignified run as I took the long way around, down the street towards the water instead of following Euila, Miss Witherspoon and Graham towards Front Street. My mind was in such a tempest of emotion that for once I didn’t know what to do. All I could think of was that I had to prevent Angus from having any more contact with Euila Forester. I had succeeded in that for the time being. What I would do next, I had absolutely no idea.

      * * *

      Angus seethed for the rest of the morning. His mother had embarrassed him in front of the whole town. He had been trying to do a good deed, to help a lady in distress, and his mother had ordered him to return to the shop, even though Mr. Mann said he could go. Everyone in town had seen him humiliated.

      He weighed a bit of gold dust on the scales in the front of the shop beside the cash box, then he handed a customer a sack of nails in exchange.

      “Thank you, lad. A fine woman, your mother, a fine woman, the way she stepped in to help that poor young lady what had the fainting spell. Very noble o’ her.”

      Angus didn’t even try to force a smile. Sometimes it was difficult being the son of the most famous woman in town.

      “Fainted, eh?” came a familiar voice. “Word on the street is that a lady choked on a lump of meat, and your mother singlehandedly wrestled the offending piece out of her mouth.” Constable Richard Sterling fingered a rough flannel shirt as the old miner shuffled off, chuckling to himself, his bag of nails tinkling cheerfully. “This might do come winter,” he added.

      “A lady fainted, that’s all,” Angus muttered.

      Sterling smiled. “No doubt by midnight the lady will have been attacked by a pack of rabid wolves, and your mother will have driven them off with a single well-aimed shot between the leader’s eyes.”

      Despite himself, Angus grinned. “That’s Dawson,” he said.

СКАЧАТЬ