Читать книгу The Klondike Mysteries 4-Book Bundle - Vicki Delany - Страница 38

Five long days passed. Ray went to the fort where he found out that Sterling had, indeed, gone to the Creeks. No one would, or could, tell him why, but he guessed it had something to do with his friend, Stewart. Mr. Mann stopped ranting about the ungrateful boy and assumed a worried frown. I was usually up when he came in for his breakfast because I didn’t sleep much.

The bartenders, the croupiers and the dance hall girls, most of whom had gotten to know Angus, and to care for him, looked at me with questioning eyes and glanced away when they saw the negative reply in mine. Helen almost wore her apron to bits, wringing it between her tough old fingers. Some of the prominent citizens in town—Mouse O’Brien, Big Alex Macdonald, Belinda Mulroney among them—had started to put together a party to go to the Creeks in search of Sterling and Angus. That people cared so much, in this cold, hard town, where no one ventured except in search of fortune, touched me again to the point of tears. Hearing of my plight, Sergeant Lancaster refrained, wisely, from pressing his suit.

Of course, nothing could dampen business at the Savoy. Everything that happened to us seemed only to increase our custom. I was so run off my feet those long nights that I scarcely had a moment to think about my missing child.

Then on Friday afternoon, Richard Sterling and Angus MacGillivray walked into the Savoy. Sterling looked like Zeus, the avenging Greek god I’d learned about in the schoolroom, and Angus… Angus looked as if he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. News of the depth of our concern, not only mine but also half of Dawson, had reached them.

I was making my way into the gambling hall when all conversation in the saloon died. Convinced that some unimaginable terror had struck, I whirled around. Every man in the place was looking at me. My knees buckled. Sterling pushed Angus in the small of his back, propelling my boy a few reluctant feet through the narrow passage that had opened between us.

Ray stood behind the bar, a glass of whisky half poured. The look of relief on his face was so great that I understood, only at that moment, that he had been far more worried about my son than he’d let on.

I marched past Angus hissing, “Upstairs,” underneath my breath. Sterling followed. Not a man spoke as we climbed the stairs. But as I walked down the corridor, exclamations, questions, and shouts erupted beneath my feet like the spring flood spilling through a broken dam.

I didn’t know whether to take my son, as tall as I, over my knee or to kiss every inch of his beloved face.

“Mother, I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am,” he said, his head downcast. “I left you a note. I told you not to worry.”

Still undecided, I turned on the nearest available target. “How could you?” I growled at Constable Richard Sterling. “How could you take a twelve-year-old child into the wilderness without his mother’s permission? I ought to have you up on charges.”

“That might well happen, Mrs. MacGillivray,” Sterling said. He didn’t look at Angus, scuffing the floorboards with one mud-encrusted toe. “We walked into Fort Herchmer less than half an hour ago, to find that the whole town is in an uproar of unprecedented proportions, and some prominent citizens were in the process of putting together a group of men to go in search of a member of the NWMP. Inspector Starnes is not pleased, I can assure you.” Inspector Cortlandt Starnes was the officer in charge of the Mounties in Dawson.

“It’s all my fault, Mother,” Angus said to the floor. His voice broke, and for a moment I thought he might burst into tears, but he swallowed hard and fought to regain some of his composure. “I didn’t mean to get Constable Sterling in any trouble. I thought it would be a good opportunity to learn to be a Mountie.”

“We’ll deal with that shortly, Angus.” I glanced at Sterling. He struggled to hold his thoughts inside his big frame.

“Do you have anything to say about this, Constable? Surely you realize that as the adult, and the authority figure, you bear more responsibility than my child.”

“Angus?” Sterling said.

“I lied, Mother. I told Constable Sterling you’d given me permission to accompany him to Grand Forks.”

“And you believed him?” I shouted at Sterling. Fortunately, the patrons downstairs had resumed their normal pitch of conversation, or they would have heard me.

“Show my mother the letter, Constable,” Angus said.

“Let’s just say that Angus can be most convincing, Mrs. MacGillivray. I’m truly sorry we caused you such distress. I take full responsibility. I have to get back to the Fort. I’ve been ordered to give the Inspector a report once Angus has been safely returned to you. I’m sorry.”

He turned and walked out the door.

“Don’t you move a muscle,” I ordered my son. “Constable. A moment, please.” I walked down the hall and stood in front of Sterling. There was only one small window at the end of the corridor, and the single lamp at the top of the stairs flickered, almost out of fuel. “I have no doubt my son tricked you into taking him on this expedition. He can be quite charming when he chooses to be. I can guess the contents of this letter, even if you don’t want to show it to me. If you need any help with your superiors, please let me know.”

“That’s kind of you, Mrs. MacGillivray. I won’t pretend that I’m not worried about what the Inspector has to say. You have some powerful friends.”

“I’m sorry.”

He held up one massive paw. “Don’t apologize. If it were someone dear to me who’d gone missing, I’d have called on the devil himself to intervene. You did the right thing. You have a good boy there, don’t be too hard on him. He was a help, and good company on the trail. I’d better be going.”

“Perhaps you could join us for dinner tonight,” I blurted out, without thinking. “With Angus and me, I mean. At our boarding house. I’d like to hear of your adventures.”

He looked at me, his brown eyes unreadable. “If you’re not in jail or something,” I stammered. The corners of his mouth lifted once again. “I’d like that, Mrs. MacGillivray.”

“Nine o’clock?”

“Nine o’clock. If I’m…indisposed, I’ll send a message.”

The stairs clattered beneath his boots. I stood still for a moment, just thinking. I could follow Sterling’s progress across the room and out into the street as the drinkers’ conversation fell silent in his wake.

I walked back to my office. “So,” I said to my ashen-faced son, “tell me about this letter.”