第 34 页

She nodded distractedly. "All right. I'll only be a minute."

The men shuffled out, leaving in their absence a groaning silence. She stared at Stone Man. He stared back.

"Nice plaque," he said finally.

"Yes, isn't it."

Again the silence. The awkward, yawning silence that was a slap in the face to everything they'd shared.

Devon pressed her hand to her stomach, forcing herself to remember why she was going. How noble her reasons were.

Right now she didn't feel noble. She felt cowardly and lost and alone. She swallowed hard, keeping the tears at bay by sheer force of will. "I guess I've got to go..."

"Guess so."

"Are you going to walk me to the ship?"

He looked pointedly at the shadows huddled just outside the flaps. "Looks to me like you've got a whole bunch of escorts. One more wouldn't even be noticed."

She forced a shrug. "Guess not."

He pulled a small brown package out from under the couater. "Here," he said gruffly, "this is for you."

"I didn't get you-"

"Just take it." He looked away quickly. "You've given me plenty."

He handed her the gift. She untied the knot with shaking fingers and ripped off the brown paper wrapping.

Her breath caught in her throat. It was a framed photograph of her dented Campbell's soup can full of wild poppies. The picture wobbled in her hands; the flowers blurred. She swallowed hard. "It's perfect. Thank you." Even to her own ears her words sounded horribly stilted and distant.

"You're welcome."

"Well," she said awkwardly, "I'd best be going."

He nodded.

She tried a lighthearted smile and failed."I'd say I'd write, but a letter would never find you."

"Nope."

"So, I guess this is good-bye."

"Good-bye, Dev."

She meant to walk out the door, to walk away. But she didn't. Instead some deep, instinctive need drew her to him.

He didn't back away. He just stood there, waiting for her. The minute she stepped into the circle of his arms, he hugged her with a fierceness that left her breathless. She fitted her body to his, reveling in the wonderful, welcome feel of him. The achingly familiar smell of him surrounded her. His heart hammered beneath her cheek.

"I'll miss you," he said above her head.

His words, spoken in a broken, whisper-ragged voice, severed her final shred of self-control. That was it; the only declaration of love she'd ever get from him. He'd miss her- but not enough to ask her to stay. God help her, it wasn't enough.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, burrowing into the corners of her mouth. She wrenched out of his embrace. Clasping the photograph to her breast, she rushed headlong out of the tent.

She pushed through the flaps and landed smack in the middle of the crowd. The men squished in around her, cutting off her every avenue of escape. The thick, pungent odor of unwashed bodies clawed at her nostrils. Panic seized her.

An arm curled around her waist, squeezing. "It's all right, lass. Take a deep breath. Relax."

She sagged against Father's small, comforting body, letting him protect her. Concentrating on each breath, she felt some small amount of control return. "Sorry, Father," she said with a trembling laugh, "I don't know what came over me."

"Don't ye?"

"Come on, come on!" Cornstalk's voice rose above the men's chatter. "Let's go, miss."

She pulled away from the priest slowly, unfurling until her back was ramrod stiff. She pasted a thin-lipped smile on her face and then faced the boys. "All right, fellas, let's go."

Tilting her chin, she took her first step toward the stern-wheeler. Her first step away from Stone Man.

Around her the men chattered like locusts, but she couldn't hear a thing over the pounding in her chest. She was surrounded by a dozen friends, and never in her life had she been more alone.

Every step took her farther away from the man she loved. With each footfall she thought it's not too late. Just turn back around...

But it was too late. Way too late.

"Good-bye, miss." Cornstalk's high-pitched voice sliced through her jumbled thoughts.

She jerked her head up. She'd reached the end of the boardwalk, and Digger and Cornstalk were right beside her. Both were grinning. She offered them a tremulous smile.

"Good-bye, Cornstalk. I'll miss you." She laid a hand on Digger's dirty sleeve. "I'll miss you, too, Digger.

You changed my life."

Digger's Adam's apple did a swift bob. "You changed mine, too, miss. Your share of the gold IVe found is already on board. I'll send the rest of your gold to San Francisco. I'll send you a telegram when it gets there."

Before Devon could respond, Midas pushed Digger aside. " 'Bye, Devon," he said in a gruff voice.

"Good-bye, Midas. Thank you for the plaque. I'll treasure it always."

"Yeah," he grumbled, melting back into the crowd. In an instant the whole crowd was talking at once, yelling, shouting, wishing her well on her journey.

Father materialized at her side. Taking her hand, he walked with her across the newly-constructed wooden dock and up the wobbly ramp to the sternwheeler. When they reached the puckered metal decking, he stopped.

"You don't have to do this," he said quietly. "He loves you."

The tears she'd been holding back squeezed past her lashes and slid down her cheeks.

"Once this boat pulls out..."

Devon pressed a finger to his lips. "Please, Father, don't," she begged in a ragged whisper.

"Ach, ye're a stubborn one, ye are. Come here, lass, give an old man a hug."

His gentle touch shattered her self-control. She sagged in his embrace, letting tears course unchecked down her cheeks.

"God be wi' ye, lass."

Sniffling, she pulled out of his embrace. "And with you, Father."

Long after he'd left, Devon remained at the sternwheeler's rusted railing, her fingers curled like talons around the rough metal. Wind buffeted her cheeks, whipping her hair into a disheveled mess, and still she stood alone. Waiting.

The footsteps had finally died away. Stone Man sagged forward. His elbows hit the counter hard.

Every little click, click, click of her heels on the boardwalk had hit him like a lead pipe in the gut.

But it was over now. She was gone.

Closing his eyes, he massaged the throbbing ache at his temples.

"Well, Stoneyman, I always knew you were stupid. Now youVe proved me right."

Stone Man's head snapped up. Seeing Midas's wizened . little face, he growled. God, it would feel good to smash the old man's face right now. "Don't give me any of your shit today, Midas. I just might give you the pounding you deserve."

"You'd like that. It'd give you something to take your mind off her."

Stone Man scowled. "Who?"

Midas spat a big glob of tobacco on the floor. "There ain't a man up here'd let her go."

"I know that."

"You don't know shit," Midas said harshly. "If you did, you'd be runnin' after that gal, promisin' her the moon if that's what it took to keep her."

"If all she wanted was the moon, there wouldn't be a problem."

"Christ, you're stupid," Midas snapped.

"Now, wait a minute, I don't have to listen-"

"Yes you do. This time you do. I know about screwing up, Stoneyman, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Even you." He spat then cleared his throat. "I left behind a fine wife and child to find gold. Only you know what I found out? They were the gold-I was just too stupid to see it.

'Course, by the time I figured it out, they were gone."

"Goddamn it," Stone Man roared, "I don't need to listen to this shit. Keep talking all you want.

I'm leaving." Without bothering to grab his coat and hat, he stormed out of the tent.

He marched across the street to his tent. Yanking on the latchstring, he flung the door open and barreled into his sanctuary.

The change hit him like a slap in the face. He stopped dead.

It was as if she'd never been there. There was no tablecloth on the table, no flowers in a dented Campbell's soup can, no frilly undergarments hanging on the clothesline.

The tent walls crept in on him. Suddenly the place felt small and cramped. Lonely.

Something white winked at him from the center of the table. Dully he walked toward it. It was a piece of paper. Real, honest-to-God paper; not some scrap of linen from her sewing kit or an old petticoat, but paper.

He picked it up. It was, of course, folded in exact quarters. Opening it he found that one side of it was jagged, as if it had been torn from a precious book.

He glanced at the bookcase she'd made for him. There were only a few books left-his books.

He swallowed thickly, forcing his attention back to the paper in his hands. Staring hard at the note, he tried to read her words; but in his shaking hands the letters leapt and danced.

He squeezed his eyes shut, damning himself for being a fool. After a few moments he opened his eyes and tried again.

I love you. Good-bye. Simple. Direct. To the point. Just like the woman who wrote it.

Only she'd been crying when she wrote it; he could tell by her uneven, almost palsied penmanship, and by the puckered watermarks that splattered the page. The thought of her crying over him was like a hot knife in his throat, making breathing difficult.

He opened his fingers, letting the paper flutter to the floor. It landed silently, a crisp white square against the dark wood.

He stared unseeingly at the canvas half-wall as he sank unsteadily onto the nearest chair. It took him a moment to realize what was missing.

The damned armoire was gone.

A depression unlike any he'd ever experienced engulfed him and sapped his soul. Mechanically he pushed to his feet and shuffled slowly to the corner of the tent. Dropping to his knees, he reached for the wall. His shaking fingers glided across the rough-hewn planks, feeling for nail holes.

She'd ripped it right out of the wall.

Just like she'd done to his heart.

Failing to speak the words of love hadn't protected him. If anything the forced silence had made his love grow stronger and more invincible, like a flower that blooms against all odds in the shade.

Now, having brought love into his life, she was leaving it, leaving him with memories that would haunt him until the end of his lonely, wandering days.

He had his old life back.

Life. He almost laughed at that. He had no life. He hadn't had one before she landed in Dawson City, and he sure as hell didn't have one now. He had an existence, nothing more, and from now on he doubted like hell he'd even have that.

What he would have were doubts. Huge, aching doubts. All his life he'd wonder what if. What if he'd told her he loved her; what if he'd asked her to stay?

Memories careened through his mind in a shifting, spinning kaleidoscope of images. He and Devon lying together in the mud, laughing, that damn petticoat sign flapping in the wind above their heads. Devon, sitting butt-deep in snow, her face all flushed with happiness, her green eyes bright. Him, standing alone on a windswept hillside, watching Bear's funeral.

With the memory of Bear's death came a bolt of pain so strong he nearly staggered. It had happened so quickly. One moment he'd been laughing with his old friend; the next he'd been holding his ice-cold, lifeless wrist.

So quickly. So many things left unsaid.

Like now. There were so many things he'd never said to Devon; so many things he should have said.

The sternwheeler gave two long blasts, the sign that it was pulling out. At the sound something in Stone Man snapped.

He lurched to his feet. By God, he refused to live with the doubt, refused to go back to his old life. Pride be damned. Solitude be damned. For once in his life he was going to fight for what he wanted. And he wanted Devon.

He shoved through the tent's narrow wooden door and raced down the boardwalk. When he got to the end, he was panting and breathless. The sternwheeler had pulled out. It was about two feet from the shore and just beginning to chug downstream.

He saw her instantly. She was standing at the back railing, staring at him. He put his hands to his mouth, and yelled, "Devon!"

His words rose above the whispering of the wind and the chugging of the ship's engine.

"What?" she shouted back.

He took a deep breath. "I love you!" The minute the words were out of his mouth, ice slid through his blood. She could crush his soul with a single word or with no words at all. The memory of Mibelle's sharp, cutting laughter pealed loud and clear in his ears. The breath in his lungs died.

"What?" she screamed.

"Sweet Christ," he muttered, then sucked a load of fresh Yukon air into his lungs and tried again.

"I love you! Stay with me."

Her hands flew to her mouth. She glanced at the bright red bicycle beside her then at the sack of gold. "What about the gold?"

He rolled his eyes. "Screw the gold!"

She waved him closer with her hand. Frowning, he stepped into the river. The brownish water swirled around him, slapping his thighs.

She started hiking up her skirts, and before he could holler a warning she'd jumped over the railing. She hit the blue-brown glacier water with a loud splash. Water splattered everywhere. He watched in horror as she started bobbing downstream.

Cursing under his breath, he surged toward her, fighting the river's grip. Water smacked his thighs and washed across his waist as he swept her into his embrace.

Her wet arms coiled around his neck. He held her tightly, trying like hell to maintain his balance in the swiftly moving water. "Say it again," she demanded.

"Good God, Dev," he said between gasps, "wait till I can breathe." Turning, he slogged through the water and staggered up the slick muddy bank.

"Say it again," she said as soon as they reached the dock.

He gazed into her wide, earnest eyes, and felt the bitter casing on his soul break free, float away.