Gold Fever. Vicki Delany

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СКАЧАТЬ generally miserable, lazy, pastyfaced, skinny piece of flotsam who didn’t have any apparent talents. She wasn’t popular with the men, and I would have shown her the door long ago if she wasn’t such good friends with Irene. Irene, stage name of Lady Irenee, liked having Chloe around, and as long as Irene was the men’s favourite, I would keep her happy. I thought that Chloe served as a substitute for the fussy lapdog with ribbons in its fur theatrical women like to carry around. That wouldn’t be too practical in Dawson: such a creature would disappear into the mud the first time its mistress set it down, if it avoided being eaten once the bigger dogs got a look at it.

      Now that I was thinking about it, I realized there had been a chill between Irene and Chloe over the last few days. Perhaps they’d had a falling out. Maybe I could cut Chloe loose while Irene was angry with her.

      Soon a hush settled over the room; the audience knew what was coming. It was time for Irene’s first song. She slipped onto the stage hidden behind two enormous crimson fans carried by two crouching dancers, who looked rather silly doing so. Only her feet, clad in satin slippers, were visible, but as one, the men sighed with delight. The music of the five-piece orchestra rose to a crescendo, the crimson fans were swept to one side with a flourish, and Irene stood in centre stage, her face hidden behind a smaller version of the two fans. The men roared. The fan was lowered slowly, provocatively, and Irene peeked out. She was well into her thirties and somewhat stocky, but still pretty despite a face scarred by the effects of bitterly cold winds and a hard life. On stage and on the dance floor, she conveyed such a cheerful enthusiasm that all the men loved her. She was easily the most popular dance-hall girl in Dawson, which did wonders for my business.

      Unfortunately, my business partner, Ray Walker, also loved Irene. Too much, I feared.

      She flicked her fan back and forth across her face, and the men went wild.

      “You know how to play with fire, Mrs. MacGillivray.” Constable Richard Sterling moved so quietly, even in his heavy boots, I hadn’t heard him come up beside me. Although I knew full well he only wanted to speak to me without everyone in the room hearing, I took an involuntary step back. At a good deal more than six feet with the bulk to match, Sterling always seemed to stand too close for comfort. He smelled of pipe smoke, boot polish and the mud of the streets.

      “My son found you?” “We settled the lady in a room overhead. Mrs. LeBlanc’s

      gentlemen employee tried to talk Mary out of leaving. I suspect you’ll find Mrs. LeBlanc on your doorstep tomorrow; she recognized Angus.”

      We have a rather awkward relationship, Constable Sterling and I. I am, of course, not attracted to him at all, but somehow early in the morning, which is when my mind struggles towards sleep, I find myself thinking about him more than might be considered reasonable, and when he stands near me, my heart skips a beat or two, before wisely settling back into a sensible rhythm.

      “I don’t waste my time worrying about Mrs. LeBlanc,” I said, concentrating on the activities on the stage, where the girls were flittering about behind Irene. Definitely time to get rid of Chloe—she tripped and barely avoided a collision with Ellie, who tossed her a filthy look. “You realize the situation the poor girl finds herself in?”

      “Not that she said a single word to me, or even looked me in the eye. Angus didn’t understand why they needed a police escort. I sent him home, by the way.”

      “Thank you. I have offered her my protection, for what it’s worth.”

      “It’s worth a good deal, Fiona.” Sterling straightened his perfectly straight wide-brimmed hat in a gesture I recognized as meaning he was about to take his leave. “If removed, it would be much worse than never given. Good night.”

      He took a step towards the door, hesitated and turned back. “That is a striking dress. Most becoming. Excuse me.” And he was pushing his way through the crowd.

      If I were an imaginative woman, I might believe that the proper Constable Sterling had actually blushed.

      Chapter Four

      At closing time, the girls trooped upstairs to my office to be paid for the drinks they’d convinced their “dance partners” to purchase. The bartenders gave them a small disk to mark every drink sold, and the girls stuffed the disks into the tops of their stockings. By the end of a good night, the legs of some of the most popular girls resembled baby elephants’. Chloe brought up the back of the line. As usual, her night’s takings were as slim as her talent.

      Shortly after four o’clock, Irene had slipped outside for a bit of fresh air. I followed her and told her I was disappointed with Chloe’s performance that evening. I suggested Irene have a friendly word with her. Irene told me, biting off every word, that she would never again have a “friendly word” with Chloe.

      Oh, goodie, I thought. Outside my office window, Dawson was warming up to the day’s commerce. Men shouted, women chattered, horses and donkeys stepped through the ever-present mud, and loaded carts rattled down the street. The loud whistle of a steamboat announced its arrival. Ever since break-up in May, the waterfront had been clogged with boats beyond count, everything from luxury steamboats to musclepowered rafts made out of green wood, pulling into the makeshift harbour on the mud flats. All were full to bursting with men and women in pursuit of a dream that would more often than not bring nothing but frustration and disappointment. A steady stream of people was already leaving the Yukon, their dreams shattered by the reality of life in a northern mining town thrown up out of trees, mud and muskeg, and mines that were staked and claimed before word of the strike reached the outside.

      Chloe placed a handful of disks on my desk.

      I pulled a thin envelope out of my drawer.

      She peered at me through red-streaked eyes and a badly cut fringe of greasy brown hair.

      “I’m sorry, Chloe, but you are dismissed.” I held out the envelope. “You were drunk when you got on stage. If I’d been here when you arrived, I wouldn’t have let you get that far. These are your wages, and I’ll count out the money owing for your disks.”

      “What?” she asked, blinking as if trying to make out my face through a fog.

      “I said you are dismissed.”

      “You can’t fire me. Ma’am.”

      The girls who were on their way out the door, or who had remained behind to chat for a few moments, stopped dead. You could almost hear the ears pricking up.

      “Sobriety is a condition of your employment, which was explained to you.”

      “I need this job.”

      “You should have thought of that before taking a drink. Good day.”

      “Please, ma’am. Gi’me another chance. I’ve the toothache, you see. I needed a sip to dull the pain. That’s all.” She rubbed the side of her face with her fingers.

      The girls were watching me. A few more drifted back down the hall and stood outside the door listening, Irene among them. I shoved the envelope towards Chloe again. “Your employment is terminated. Please leave.”

      She snatched the money out of my hand. Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth drew into a flat line. Most unattractive. She spat at my outstretched hand. My reflexes are still good, and I managed to pull back in time. The onlookers gasped.

      Chloe СКАЧАТЬ