Winter Kill

Chapter 21

For a long moment, Frank battled the impulse to stand up and smash his fist into the middle of Smith’s face. When he had it under control, he said steadily, “You want me to give you those mail-order brides.”

“I know, I know, they’re promised to prospectors over in Whitehorse. But just think about it. Why should you collect just one time on each of them, when you can collect again and again and again?”

“You want to make soiled doves out of them.”

Smith leaned back languidly in his chair. “They’re reasonably young and healthy, and they look unspoiled, whether they really are or not. They’ll stay innocent-looking for a while, too. Men up here will pay through the nose for something like that, maybe a whole poke full of nuggets or dust.” He laughed. “A poke for a poke, eh? And even once the bloom is off the rose, so to speak, they can still generate a lot of money for us. A man spends five or six months holed up alone in an eight-by-ten cabin, he’ll fork over most of his worldly goods for a few minutes with a woman, especially one who ain’t an Indian.” Smith took another swallow of beer. “The women aren’t the only reasons I want to come to an agreement with you, though.”

“Go on,” Frank said flatly.

“You saw Joe Palmer and Big Ed outside, and you met Yeah Mow and Sid earlier. They’re good men, all of ’em. Tough as nails, and they do what they’re told. Big Ed and Yeah Mow can bust a man in half with their bare hands, and Sid’s real handy with a knife when he ain’t been on the nod too much. Joe handles the gun work, and he’s slick at it. But he’s nowhere near as slick as The Drifter, and none of those boys will strike fear in a man’s heart like the name Frank Morgan will.”

“So you want me to handle your dirty work for you.”

“I want you to earn your share,” Smith snapped. “Fifty-fifty, like I said. Of course, expenses come off the top before we divvy up.”

Frank nodded. “Of course.”

Smith took that as an encouraging sign. He leaned forward again. “Well, what do you say?”

Frank picked his beer up and took a sip from the mug for the first time. The brew was sour and bitter, as he had figured it would be. He wouldn’t expect anything else from a snake like Smith.

“First of all,” he said as he replaced the mug on the table, “those women aren’t mine to give you, and I wouldn’t even if they were. I’m taking them to Whitehorse like I promised I would. Second, when we leave tomorrow, Salty Stevens is going with us, and I expect you to return his gold before we leave.”

Smith stared across the table at him, eyes narrowing until they were slits of evil. “You son of a bitch,” he breathed.

“Talk like that can get a man killed.”

“Yeah, you! Take a look at that table to your right. Yeah Mow’s over there with a gun pointed at you, Morgan, and all I have to do is say the word for him to pull the trigger.”

“You see my right hand?” Frank asked quietly.

“What?” Smith looked at the table. Frank’s left hand was still wrapped around the handle of the beer mug, but his right was nowhere to be seen.

“I’ve had a .45 lined up on your belly pretty much from the moment we sat down,” Frank went on. “My thumb’s over the hammer, and that’s all that’s holding it back. You can have your boy Yeah Mow shoot me, but you’ll get a bullet in the guts at the same time. I’ve got a hunch there’s not a doctor up here who could pull a man through with a wound like that. You’d be a long, slow, hard time dying, too.”

Smith’s lips writhed with hate. “You…you…”

“Don’t call me a son of a bitch again,” Frank said.

“Get out.”

“Have Hopkins put his gun on the table first, then stand up and move away from it.”

Smith hesitated, and for a second Frank thought the man was going to call his bluff…although it really wasn’t a bluff at all. Frank was prepared to shoot his way out of here if necessary. Then Smith made a curt gesture to Yeah Mow and said, “Put your gun on the table and get out.”

“But, Boss—” the man started to protest.

“Just do it!”

Hopkins laid a heavy revolver on the table and stood up. He glared at Frank as he moved toward the doorway.

Frank got to his feet, keeping his Colt in his hand. The men drinking in Clancy’s must have sensed that something was going on, and at the sight of Yeah Mow’s gun and now Frank’s, they knew it. Most of them headed for the door, eager to get out of the line of fire if gunplay broke out.

“You’re going to walk me back to the hotel, Soapy,” Frank said.

“The hell I will,” Smith snarled.

“It’s that or I gun you down right here and now and take my chances.”

Their eyes dueled for a second; then Smith muttered a curse and stood up. “All right. But you’re gonna regret this, Morgan.”

“Now, you see, that’s another mistake.”

“Another?”

“Your first was thinking that I’d ever throw in with a polecat like you,” Frank said. “It’ll be your second if you don’t let this go. You see, I didn’t come to Skagway to clean up the town or anything like that, Smith. I don’t like you, and somebody ought to put a stop to what you’re doing here, but I have another chore I need to take care of, namely keeping a promise to an old friend and getting those women to Whitehorse. We’ll be leaving tomorrow, and if you and your boys don’t bother us in the meantime, we won’t bother you. But if anything does happen…I’ll be coming for you, Soapy. And that’s a promise, too.”

“You always act so high-handed with folks, Morgan?”

“Only those who deserve it.”

Muttering under his breath, Smith turned toward the door. Frank followed closely behind him, gun still drawn. As they stepped out onto the plank sidewalk, Frank glanced in both directions. He saw Yeah Mow Hopkins standing nearby, along with Big Ed Burns and the opium addict, Sid Dixon. There was no sign of Joe Palmer.

“If Palmer tries to bushwhack me, my thumb’s going to slip off this hammer, sure as hell,” Frank told Smith. “At this range, the slug will blow your spine clean in two. I’d speak up if I was you.”

“You’re trying to make a fool of me in front of the whole town,” Smith said between clenched teeth.

“You made a fool of yourself when you asked me to help you turn those women into whores.”

Smith took a deep breath, then said in a loud voice, “I’m gonna walk over to the hotel with Morgan. Nobody better bother us.”

Frank nodded. “Go ahead.”

With Smith in front, the two of them walked around the corner toward the hotel. As they approached, Pete Conway stepped out of the livery stable across the street, holding a rifle. “Are you all right, Frank?” he called.

“Yeah, fine,” Frank replied. Dog stepped out of the stable as well and stood there stiff-legged, the fur on his back ruffled with anger. Frank knew that at a word from him, the big cur would bound across the street in the blink of an eye and rip Smith’s throat out before anyone could stop him.

The two of them came to a stop on the hotel porch. Frank said, “You can send Salty’s gold over here to the hotel. I’ll see that it gets to him, and I’ll expect it before ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“You believe in pushing your luck, don’t you?” Smith said.

“It’s not luck if you can back it up. And I can, Soapy. Don’t doubt that for a second. I’ve been through all sorts of hell getting here with those women, and I’m not going to let a second-rate crook like you stop us now. So take my advice. Return the old man’s gold, let us go on about our business, and you go on about yours. Just forget we ever came to Skagway.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

From the hollow sound of Smith’s voice, Frank knew that was unlikely.

“Go on back to Clancy’s. I don’t expect to see you again.”

Smith stalked off without a word. As soon as he was gone, Conway hurried across the street, along with Jennings and Dog.

“What the hell happened?” Conway wanted to know. “How come you marched Smith over here at gunpoint?”

“He did something that bothered me,” Frank said. “He suggested that I partner up with him so we could put the ladies to work as soiled doves.”

“You mean he wanted to turn Jessica into—” Conway’s hands tightened on his rifle. “I ought to go down to that saloon and—”

“It’s already taken care of.” Quickly, Frank related the highlights of the conversation in Clancy’s and its outcome.

Jennings said, “Do you really think he’ll return the old man’s gold and leave us alone?”

“That would be the smart thing to do. We’re not trying to drive him out of power here in Skagway. He can go on fleecing the citizens until they decide they’ve had enough of him…or he can try to stop us from leaving and wind up with a war on his hands. So tell me, Bart…how smart is he?”

“He’s smart, all right,” Jennings said, “smart as he is crooked. But he’s loco, too, and he may lean more on his pride than his brain when he goes to makin’ up his mind what to do.”

“In that case,” Frank said with a slight smile, “we may have to fight our way out of here.”

Now that Smith knew Salty was one of Frank’s allies, Frank didn’t think it was safe for the old-timer to stay at the shack alone. He sent Conway to fetch him and left Dog at the stable to guard the horses. Then he called the women together in the hotel to explain the situation to them.

“Why, that…that scoundrel!” Fiona exclaimed when she heard what Smith had proposed to do. “You should have shot him, Frank!”

“I thought about it,” Frank admitted wryly. “I figured that might just shake things up even worse, though. At least Smith has some control over what happens around here. If he was dead, all hell might break loose. The important thing is that we get out of Skagway and get started toward Whitehorse as soon as possible. Until we do, I want all of you to be alert. Keep your guns handy, and don’t be afraid to use them.”

Meg pushed her blond hair back off her forehead. “We should set up some sort of schedule for standing guard, and maybe we should all be in the same room.”

Frank nodded and said, “I was thinking the same thing. It’ll be crowded, but at least you can keep an eye on each other that way.”

“What are you going to do?” Fiona asked.

“As soon as Conway gets back with Salty, we’re going to start getting ready to leave early tomorrow morning. I want to line up our dogs and sleds and supplies today, if I can.”

“We have to go by dogsled?” Marie asked.

“Part of the way, according to Salty. We’ll take the horses as far as we can.” Frank paused. “It’ll be a rough trip, make no mistake about that. But we’ll get through, and once we get to Whitehorse, you’ll have your new husbands to rely on. It’ll be all right.”

They seemed to take some comfort from his encouraging words, but a sense of worry still hung over the group. Frank understood that well enough. He was worried himself.

He became more so when he stepped outside and saw that the leaden sky had started spitting down snowflakes. The snow was falling only lightly now, but as he gazed up at the clouds, he had a hunch it was going to get worse. If a blizzard blew in tonight, they might not be able to take the horses at all and would have to leave Skagway by dogsled.

They had come too far to turn back now, he told himself, and besides, with Soapy Smith as an enemy, it wouldn’t be safe to try to spend the winter in Skagway. They had to make the run to Whitehorse.

Conway came along a few minutes later with Salty Stevens. The old-timer said to Frank, “The young fella tells me you had a big fallin’-out with Soapy on account o’ me.”

“That wasn’t all of it, by any means,” Frank said.

“Well, no matter what caused it, you don’t want to hang around Skagway if Soapy’s got blood in his eye for ye.”

“That’s why I want us to leave as soon as we can. First thing tomorrow morning, if possible.”

Salty cast an eye toward the sky. “With this snow fallin’, that’s a good idea. Come on. I’ll take you to see a feller who’s got some dogs.”

They were going to need at least four sleds and teams, according to Salty. The sleds wouldn’t be a problem, as there were still plenty to be had in the settlement. Coming up with twenty-four good dogs would be.

“Most folks use huskies or malamutes,” Salty told Frank, Conway, and Jennings. “You may have to settle for mostly mutts, though.”

“As long as they can pull the sleds,” Frank said, “that’s all that matters.”

“Oh, they’ll be able to pull, but they won’t have the stamina or the experience a good team would. We’ll have to teach ’em and toughen ’em up as we go along.”

The man Salty took them to see had such a thick Swedish accent Frank understood only about half of what he had to say. Salty could converse with him, though, and after some haggling, they went behind the man’s cabin to look into a long kennel made of posts and wire. A couple of dozen dogs were behind the fence. They were all big and shaggy and looked strong enough to Frank, but Salty shook his head in dismay. “This is the best we can do,” he told Frank, “but it ain’t good.”

“Like you said, maybe they’ll get better as they go along.”

The Swede agreed to have the dogs in front of the hotel at eight o’clock the next morning. That was well before dawn at this time of the year.

From there Frank and the others went to the general store to make arrangements for their supplies. While they were in the store, Frank spotted some Stetsons hanging on pegs driven into one of the log walls, and went over to take down one very similar to the hat he had lost in the Pacific. He had been hatless since the shipwreck, and he was tired of his head feeling naked. He bought the hat as well, and felt better when he had settled it on his head. He got a fur cap for Conway and better coats for everyone, along with blankets, furs, more ammunition, food, and plenty of dried fish for the dogs. Sled dogs, Salty explained, lived on fish, not beef.

They also bought four sleds at the store. The supplies would be divided among them, leaving room for the young women to ride. Settling up with the storekeeper took most of the cash Frank had left.

As they stepped outside, Frank saw that the snow was still coming down and that there was already a thin layer of the white stuff on the ground. Salty looked at that and nodded.

“Yeah, we might as well start off on the sleds,” he said. “Ain’t no need to bring all them hosses. You’d just have to leave ’em somewheres along the way.”

“My two are coming with me.” Frank wasn’t going to abandon Stormy and Goldy to Soapy Smith. He didn’t care about the horses they had taken from the gang of outlaws.

“That’s fine, you can prob’ly get a couple o’ horses through the passes. There’s a chance you won’t be able to, but it’s your decision to make, I reckon. We’ll need men to handle the dog teams, though.”

“You can handle one, can’t you?”

“Yep.” Salty jerked a thumb at Conway. “I figure I can teach this big fella how to, as well. But that still leaves two teams.”

“What about me?” Jennings asked. “What would I have to do?”

Salty squinted skeptically at him. “A blind man, drivin’ a sled team? I don’t see how it’s rightly possible.”

“I can hear just fine,” Jennings insisted. “Put my sled in the middle and shout a lot. I can steer by sound.”

Salty scratched at his beard. “Well…it might work. Them dogs got a natural tendency to foller each other, anyway. I reckon we can give it a try. If it don’t work, maybe one o’ them gals can take over. Looks like we’re gonna need one of ’em for the fourth team, anyway.”

“I have an idea one of them will volunteer,” Frank said, thinking of Meg Goodwin. Following a dog team might not be too different from following a plow mule.

“Well, then, it seems to me like you’re ’most ready to go.”

Frank looked up at the sky. The light had already faded from it, and the snowflakes continued to swirl down.

“All we have to do is make it through the night,” he said.