Gold Fever. Vicki Delany

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СКАЧАТЬ Mann stood up. He cleared his throat. I half expected him to throw Mary out on her ear, and me after her for suggesting that such a woman come and work for his wife. For him it would be enough that she was an Indian— without even knowing her (former) occupation. “I go with Angus,” he said. “Help carry.”

      I smiled at him. “Thank you, Mr. Mann.”

      He almost blushed and turned away.

      My suggestion that Mary take employment in Mrs. Mann’s laundry and residence in the Savoy wasn’t entirely altruistic. I was rather delighted at the idea of having a confrontation with Joey LeBlanc, while knowing that the law was, for once, on my side.

      I can be such an idiot sometimes.

      Chapter Three

      Constable Richard Sterling settled his broad-brimmed hat on his head, said goodbye to the corporal in charge of the Dawson town detachment and opened the door. A lanky blond boy, a tumble of too-long arms and legs, stood in front of him with his hand extended towards the latch.

      Sterling grinned. “Angus, what brings you here? Looking for me?”

      “Yes, sir. Well, we’re looking for a Mountie, that is.” “We?” Sterling said, before noticing two people watching the exchange from the bottom of the steps. He nodded to the man. “Mr. Mann.”

      “My ma said we had to get a Mountie. Let’s go.”

      “Hold up, Angus. Where are we going?” Sterling touched the brim of his hat.

      “I don’t believe I’ve been introduced to this lady.” Which was factually true, although he knew well enough that she worked out of a crib on Paradise Alley and handed her earnings over to Joey LeBlanc.

      Seeing the recognition in his face, the woman lowered her eyes.

      “Oh, right,” Angus said. “This is Mary…uh…just Mary. My friend.”

      “Sterling,” Mr. Mann said. “Weeze wasting time. Youze gos now.” He made a sort of shooing gesture with his hands towards the woman, and she set off down the street with long determined strides that belied her short legs. She was wearing a dress far too large for her and made of considerably better fabric than most of the cloth one saw in Paradise Alley.

      “What are you and Mr. Mann doing in the company of that woman, Angus, and where are we going?” Sterling asked as they fell into step behind the German man and the native woman.

      “To get her things,” Angus said. “She’s moving into the Savoy.”

      “She’s moving into the Savoy!” Sterling almost stopped in his tracks. Angus kept on walking, forcing Sterling to take a skipping step to keep up. “Does your mother know about this?”

      “Of course. It was her idea.”

      “Of course. Do you know where this…Mary lives?”

      “Second Avenue, I think.”

      “That’s right. Angus, before we go any further, you’d better tell me what you’re doing and why you need a police escort to do it.”

      They turned the corner, and Mary picked up her pace. She scurried through the street with her head down, looking at nothing but the ground in front of her feet. This part of Second Avenue was popularly known as Paradise Alley, for obvious reasons. Although Sterling’s father, a stern, strict preacher who ruled his flock, and his family, like an old testament prophet expecting judgement any moment, would have had more than a few strong words to say about such blasphemy. The street was narrow, full of mud and debris, lined with two neat rows of nearly identical narrow wooden dwellings. These were the cribs, where women plied their trade, peak-roofed, wide enough for only one long thin window beside the door, their frontage not much more than a few feet wide. A few sported an awning over the door, presumably to keep the customers dry while they waited their turn. In the early evening there weren’t many men around. A few women, with worn faces and tired bodies, tattered dresses and cheap jewellery, stood in their doorways or gathered together on the strip of boardwalk, exchanging gossip and watching the passing traffic. No one spoke to Mary as she marched down the middle of the street, mindless of several inches of her ill-fitting dress dragging through the mud and ignoring the men and boy following her.

      She stopped in front of one of the shacks. “Here,” she said. It was no better, and no worse, than any of the others.

      Angus stepped forward, ready to go inside with her. She lifted a hand. “Please wait.”

      Sterling stood in the street with a scowling Mr. Mann and a red-faced Angus, feeling conspicuous in his red tunic, broad-brimmed hat, and high black boots. The women watched with expressionless eyes. The few customers on the street stayed well clear.

      He could see them coming from a long way away. Two toughs with many-times broken noses, calloused hands, good clothes and a practiced swagger. As they approached, the women disappeared into their homes, slamming doors behind them as if a skunk were coming down the road with tail raised. A small woman in an unadorned brown housedress stood alone on the far side of the street, watching.

      One of the men stopped several yards short of Sterling, and the other approached with a friendly smile that didn’t touch the steel in his eyes. Sterling doubted the man had given anyone an honest smile since he ceased to be a toddler. “Help you, Constable?”

      “No.” Mary came out of her home, clutching a cloth-wrapped

      bundle to her chest. Mr. Mann took the package then handed it to Angus. His arms hung loosely at his sides, but his body was as tense as wire on a range fence, and Sterling was glad the German would be on his side if worse came to worse.

      “We’re in no hurry. Get the rest of it, Mary,” Angus said. “There is no more.” “This is all you have?” He sounded as if he couldn’t

      quite believe it. Considering he was the son of Fiona MacGillivray, Sterling had no doubt the boy truly didn’t believe a woman could get by with so little.

      Then Mary saw the two men. Her colour didn’t change and her expression didn’t waver, but Sterling saw the tension crawl into her neck and shoulders.

      “Leaving?” the man asked in a voice as polite as his false smile.

      “Yes,” Sterling said.

      The man took one step to stand in front of Mary. She stared at her feet. “Mrs. LeBlanc would like you to stay.” Mary’s eyes flicked towards the woman in the brown dress watching the exchange. “Go back inside, and there’ll be no hard feelings.”

      “Mary doesn’t want to stay,” Angus said.

      “Angus,” Sterling said, “be quiet. Shall we go, Mary?”

      The big man was solidly in her path. She took a tentative step to one side. Without appearing to move, he shifted slightly and blocked her. “Mrs. LeBlanc says you owe a month’s rent on your cabin, Mary.”

      She looked up. Her eyes were dry and clear. “I don’t have so much money.”

      “Then you can’t leave.”

      “If СКАЧАТЬ