Gypsy (56 page)

‘Would you like to go home?’ Jack asked.

‘To England?’ she asked.

Jack nodded.

‘I don’t think of it as home any more,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘There wouldn’t be anything there for me.’

‘That’s how I see it too,’ Jack agreed. ‘Home is wherever you are. I guess we’ve got to find the place where we feel we both belong.’

That night their lovemaking had a tinge of sadness because it was the end of an era for them. For weeks they’d enjoyed the kind of total privacy that they knew they’d never get anywhere else, and freedom to do exactly as they pleased. They’d even put the tin bath outside and bathed in the sunshine in the happy knowledge no one could hear or see them. Back in any city they could only expect to find a couple of rooms, with all the noise, smells and disagreements that accompanied crowded conditions.

The following morning Beth made a pile of pancakes and took them down to Oz; Jack followed on with a pot of coffee. But to their surprise he was sitting on the bench outside his cabin in clean clothes, his beard shaved off and his hair soaking wet.

Beth had always imagined he was at least sixty, but with the beard gone she could see he was twenty years younger.

‘Well,’ she said, placing the plate of pancakes down on the bench beside him and putting her hands on her hips. ‘We expected to find you still sleeping it off. Or are you the younger brother of the Ostrich?’

His smile was a faintly embarrassed one. ‘I had a dip in the creek,’ he said. ‘I guess it was the shock of the cold water that made me shave off the beard. I sure am sorry I left you to look after Silver and Flash so long, but things got sort of complicated.’

‘Eat your pancakes while they’re hot,’ Jack said, and poured coffee for them all. ‘So when have we all got to leave here?’

‘Olsen will be out later today,’ Oz said.

Jack nodded. Olsen the Swede had already made a fortune from his mine on the Eldorado and owned a lot of property in Dawson. A formidable giant of a man and a first-class poker player, he’d probably targeted Oz the moment he heard he was in town with gold.

‘It ain’t the same in Dawson any more,’ Oz said sadly. ‘Sure, they’ve spruced it up, but there’s a kinda gloom about the place, like the bubble’s burst. And there’s ladies arriving now!’

‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’ Beth said, sitting down on a tree stump. ‘There never were enough to go round.’

‘They ain’t good-time girls.’ Oz shook his head as if that grieved him. ‘They’s real ladies, bankers’ wives, society dames, school marms and such with their parasols and fancy hats. Come to settle with their husbands and children too. There’s a fancy dress shop now, some Frenchy dame owns it, they reckons you can get the latest Paris fashions there.’

Beth and Jack looked at each other, wondering if this was true or just Oz imagining it. ‘How’s the Monte Carlo?’ Beth asked.

‘All painted up again like there never was a fire. Fallon’s long gone. They said he high-tailed out of town soon after you left there.’

‘What about One Eye?’ Jack asked.

‘He’s still there. They reckon he’s got a saloon over in Louse Town and runs a few whores there.’

‘So where are you going today then?’ Jack asked.

‘That depends.’

‘On how much you can scrape together here?’ Jack asked. ‘It’s lucky I kept on panning for you while you were gone.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather bag which contained the nuggets he’d found, and tossed it into the older man’s lap. ‘Just do me a favour, Oz, and don’t gamble that away too. We don’t want to think of you broke and cold next winter.’

Oz opened the bag and tipped the nuggets on to his palm, looking up at Jack in shocked surprise.

‘There’s some gold dust too. I didn’t bring that down with me, but I’ll get it for you,’ Jack added.

‘You kept this for me even though you knew you’d have to go?’ Oz asked, squinting up at Jack.

‘Sure I did, it’s not mine to keep.’

‘There’s not many that honest,’ Oz said thoughtfully. ‘Reckon I did the right thing after all.’

‘You did, Oz,’ Jack said, assuming he meant letting him stay and build a cabin on his claim. ‘I’ve been happy here, and since Beth came out, even happier.’

‘So are you gonna get hitched?’

Beth giggled. ‘He hasn’t asked me, Oz. Don’t embarrass him.’

‘A girl who can make pancakes like these and play the fiddle as sweet as you is worth her weight in gold,’ Oz said, stuffing in another mouthful. ‘I’ll ask her meself, Jack, if you don’t look sharp and do it.’

‘I ain’t gonna ask her in front of you,’ Jack said, and grinned. ‘But we’ve got plans to go to Vancouver. I’d better go down the creek and see if someone can row us to Dawson later. We can’t all get in your boat, not with the dogs too.’

‘You can take my boat. I’ve got it in mind to walk with the dogs, maybe drop in here and there on some old pals on the way. But first we got some business to do.’

‘I’ll get the gold dust,’ Jack said.

‘I didn’t mean that, son,’ Oz said, getting to his feet and walking into his cabin.

‘He’ll want me to sign something about giving up the lay,’ Jack whispered to Beth.

Oz came back holding a piece of paper in his hand. ‘There you are, son,’ he said. ‘Your ten per cent.’

Jack looked puzzled as he looked at the piece of paper. Beth came closer and saw it was a banker’s draft for 20,000 dollars, made payable to Jack Child.

She gasped. ‘You sold the claim for two hundred thousand?’ she exclaimed.

‘You didn’t lose it in a poker game to Olsen?’ Jack asked.

‘’ Course I didn’t. I seen too many men go down that way.’ Oz chuckled. ‘I won some money and lost it too, got myself drunker than I thought possible. But I weren’t gonna gamble that away. I sold it to Olsen.’

‘But why give me ten per cent?’ Jack asked, his voice shaking with emotion.

‘Cos you’ve looked after me good all winter. Been like a son to me. Besides, if you hadn’t dug them holes, I’d never have found more gold. Word in Dawson was that I was all washed up. Olsen wouldn’t have given me ten cents for the claim without seeing some gold.’

‘I can’t take it,’ Jack said, tears glinting in his eyes. ‘It’s too much!’

‘You took a lay here, you might a struck gold yerself any time. Only fair I give you a share. We’ve been pardners, ain’t we?’

Jack looked stunned. He kept glancing at the banker’s draft and then back to Oz.

‘You clinched it when you gave me those nuggets,’ Oz said. ‘I’m gonna spread it around Honest Jack is gonna marry Gypsy Queen. Think of it as a wedding present.’

Chapter Thirty-six

‘We’ll stay at the Fairview Hotel tonight,’ Jack said as he tied the boat up at the shore in Dawson. ‘You put on your prettiest dress and later we’ll parade up and down Front Street.’

‘I’ll have to get my good clothes from the restaurant,’ she said absentmindedly, distracted by all the new buildings erected since the fire. It was as though the disaster had never happened except that the replacement shops, saloons and dance halls were more substantial and grander than before.

There were also thousands of people milling around. Many of them were just as shabbily dressed and weary-looking as the newcomers had been the previous year, but it was staggering how many were fashionably dressed, city-type folk. As Oz had said, there were also a great many very respectable-looking women and children.

Beth had heard that a railway had been built to take passengers from Skagway over the White Pass, but she doubted any of these smart people had come that way, for not one of them looked capable of building a boat and sailing on down the Yukon.

A man in a tailed coat, striped trousers and top hat was walking arm in arm with a woman wearing white muslin and a large pin hat trimmed with roses, seemingly unaware that her dress was trailing in the dust. Another woman in a very elegant brocade jacket and toning skirt was perched on a leather trunk, the kind Beth had only ever seen being carried from first class on the ship coming to America.

There were similarly well-dressed men and women everywhere, and she couldn’t imagine why they had come. What did they hope to find in this little pioneer town which was cut off from the Outside for eight months of the year?

As they began to walk down Front Street, Beth carrying her fiddle and one small bag, and Jack carrying the rest of their belongings, she felt as if she was having one of those strange dreams where she was in a familiar place, but nothing was as it should be.

It had been like that since they woke preparing themselves for buying the very cheapest tickets out of here, and a struggle ahead of them in Vancouver.

Then, without any warning, they were rich.

While that was the best of surprises, there was sadness too at saying goodbye to a place where they’d found so much happiness. Then, after the emotional farewell to Oz, they rowed here, an eerie reminder of how they had arrived a year earlier, still wrapped in grief at losing Sam.

Last year, as they’d walked down this very street in thick mud, they’d been cheechakos, the local word for greenhorns, excited, frightened, weary, expectant and totally confused. Dawson City had changed them. It couldn’t have been otherwise for it was like being thrown into a huge mixer where the outrageous characters, the dawn-to-dusk frivolity, hardships, overcrowding, lax morality and visions of fortunes being made tossed everyone out slightly changed.

Beth wondered now if she would ever be able to fit into conventional society again. She had been mulling this thought over on the boat ride, hardly speaking at all, and as Jack had been silent too she guessed he was as apprehensive about coming back here as she was.

‘We’ll be fine, we’ve got each other,’ Jack said suddenly, as if he’d read her thoughts. ‘If we want, we can leave on the very next boat.’

Beth flashed a grateful smile at him. She found it remarkable that he always seemed to know what she was thinking.

At eight that evening, they were almost ready to go out and look around the town. They had been given one of the best rooms at the Fairview. It was sumptuous, with a thick carpet, fancy French furniture, a feather mattress and velvet drapes at the window. Beth thought cynically that it was a shame the owners hadn’t made any effort to make the interior walls more robust. She and Jack could hear every word the people in the next room were saying.

They’d collected Beth’s clothes from the restaurant, cashed the banker’s draft, and Jack had bought a smart new suit, had his hair cut and his best shoes polished.

Beth was tying his bow tie for him when a knock came on the door. Jack opened it to find the young uniformed bellboy holding out a letter. ‘This came for Miss Bolton,’ he said. ‘They said I was to wait for your reply.’

Surprised and puzzled, Beth opened it to see it was from Percy Turnball, the current owner of the Monte Carlo.

Dear Miss Bolton
, she read.

I was delighted to hear the news that you and Mr Child are back in town. I would consider it a very great honour if you would both come to the Monte Carlo tonight as my guests, and hope you might consider playing a couple of numbers for all those who have missed you so sorely. Your humble servant. P. Turnball.

She handed it to Jack to read. ‘What d’you think?’

‘Is he the Scotsman they used to call “Big Balls“?’ Jack asked. ‘The big bloke with a diamond tie pin who used to come in the Nugget?’

Beth giggled. Dolores had called him Percy the Pig, because he had very small dark eyes and a high colour. Like One Eye, he went in for loud checked suits, but he was a decent, generous man, and she had liked him.

‘Yes, fancy him ending up owning the Monte! Shall we go?’

‘If you want to. Maybe it would be good for you to play here one last time.’

Beth turned to the bellboy. ‘Tell him we’ll be delighted to come.’

It was nine o’clock before they got to the Monte Carlo. A pianist was playing but they could barely hear him for the noise in the crowded saloon. As Beth and Jack walked in, people turned their heads to look at them and a kind of buzz went around the room.

‘That’s her,’ Beth heard one man say. ‘She’s even prettier than they said.’

Percy Turnball must have noticed the stir because he came pushing his way through the crowd to meet them.

‘Welcome to you both,’ he said, his big florid face breaking into a wide smile. ‘There was a good deal of jubilation when you were seen coming into town earlier today. You’re one of the legends of Dawson, Miss Bolton, even the cheechakos have heard of you and were disappointed they couldn’t get to hear you play. As for you, Jack, I’ve heard tales that you were attacked by a bear, struck it rich and married our Gypsy Queen in secret. Are any of them true?’

Jack laughed. ‘Just tall tales. If I marry the Gypsy Queen it won’t be in secret.’

Turnball slapped him on the back. ‘Good for you. I always did think you two were good together. Let’s have some champagne to celebrate you being back here.’

Turnball led them to a table he had reserved and the bartender brought over champagne in a silver bucket. It was far better quality than the stuff Fallon used to give Beth, and the glasses were real crystal.

Dozens of people she’d never seen before came up to the table to say how thrilled they were to meet her. It was a good feeling, and with Jack holding her hand under the table, the anxiety she’d felt earlier in the day disappeared.

There were many familiar faces in the crowd, all qualifying for the title of Sourdough now they’d spent a winter here. Some had been fresh-faced boys back in Skagway, innocents who had left their small towns in search of a dream. Now they were rugged men who could turn their hand to anything. As they were still here, that meant they’d found some sort of niche, even if they hadn’t struck gold.

Here and there were the dance-hall and saloon girls with their gaudy dresses and elaborate hair styles. They might look plump, pretty and welcoming, but most were calculating, tough and mercenary. Yet they had injected Dawson with glamour and no doubt given comfort to many a miner, even if he was down on his luck.