Gypsy - Lesley Pearse [140]
She had wondered as she wrote it whether people back in England had any idea of what this trip entailed. Beth had a fairly clear idea that it was going to be no picnic, as foresighted Jack had been out to the start of the trail and talked to people who had given up half-way, and what he learned was almost enough to make them abandon the idea.
‘We’ll go on, you catch us up when you’ve posted it,’ Theo called out. ‘But don’t get waylaid!’
It was late March now, and most of the people they’d got to know during the winter had left on either the White Pass or Chilkoot Trail over a month ago. But if all went well Beth knew they’d meet up with them all on the shores of Lake Bennett. The ice on the lake wouldn’t break up till the end of May, so they couldn’t depart before that.
Skagway looked very different now to how it had been when they first arrived. There was a wharf, a church and a hospital, and the main streets were lined with real buildings — shops, saloons, restaurants, hotels, houses and cabins. The roads were still a slick of mud, made worse now as there had been a slight thaw in recent days. But the tent city all around the town was still there. Different tents now, for the old ones had either moved with their owner or been torn apart in gales. Ships disgorged hundreds more gold seekers daily. Some stayed only a short time before making for the trails; others would get sucked into the seedier side of the town, lose all their money and eventually catch a ship home.
Beth was glad to be leaving. She’d had some good times here, but more bad ones. She wouldn’t miss the rowdiness, the filth, the exploiters or the exploited. But she was going to miss the tapping feet and handclapping as she played her fiddle. She would never forget those smiles of pure joy as she lifted her audience away from their worries and cares.
As she passed Clancy’s saloon she smiled when she saw the chalk sign still up announcing ‘Gypsy Queen playing tonight’. Picking up a piece of chalk lying on the ground in front of it, she added: ‘Not tonight, I’m off to the Klondike. See you there.’
Turning away from the sign and still giggling to herself, she saw Jefferson leaning against a crate watching her while he smoked his pipe.
‘So you’re off then?’ he said.
‘Just posting a letter and I’ll catch up with the cart.’
‘Stay and have a drink with me. I’ll take you to catch them up on my horse afterwards.’
She opened her mouth to refuse politely, but as she caught his twinkling eyes she couldn’t resist. ‘For old times’ sake,’ she laughed. ‘But only an hour, not a moment longer, and if you don’t take me then there’ll be trouble.’
‘You post your letter and I’ll have the drinks poured when you get back,’ he said.
As she walked through the door of Clancy’s, he popped a bottle of champagne. ‘I thought I’d give you a good send-off.’ He smiled. ‘It might be the last good thing in months.’
He poured her a glass and leaned on the bar looking at her. ‘You’ll be missed here,’ he said eventually. ‘There’s plenty of pretty girls in town, but few with your spirit or pluck. Maybe I’ll get up to Dawson one day and see how you’re doing. If you haven’t been snapped up by a rich gold miner, I’ll whip you off to San Francisco and make an honest woman of you.’
‘That would be hard for you to do, when you are so dishonest,’ she retorted. ‘Besides, I want to go back to England. I’ve got a little sister that I need to see.’
She took the picture of Molly she’d placed in the inside pocket of her coat for safekeeping, and showed him. Her hair was as long and curly as Beth’s, tied up with two bows, and she was wearing a white frilled pinafore over her dark-coloured dress. She was no longer a baby but a little girl, with round dark eyes and a very serious expression.
‘She looks like you,’ Jefferson said. ‘I guess she’s the kinda