LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Still here, Fee?” Ray stuck his head around the door.

      “How long does it take to get to the Creeks, Ray?”

      “I don’t know. Less than a day, maybe. Why?”

      Less than a day. No doubt by the time they found this…whatever his name was…it would be too late to head straight back to Dawson. So I could expect Angus home tomorrow. Probably shortly after lunch. He’d have eaten all the food he took with him and would be ravenous. Angus could eat a prodigious amount.

      “Everything all right, Fee?” Ray asked. “Angus has run off. Gone with Richard Sterling to the Creeks on some stupid police investigation. He didn’t even tell me was he was going.” At last I started to cry.

      I never cry. Some women can cry with grace, so they still manage to look dewy-fresh and perfectly lovely. Not me. Crying makes my nose red and my eyes all puffy, and the skin on my face turns white and lumpy like a batch of bad dough.

      Ray stared at me in horror, whether at the news of Angus or my tears, I didn’t know. “Is the man mad? Ta take a twelve-year-old lad on police business?”

      “I’d guess Sterling didn’t have much to say about it.” Through my tears I told Ray the story. Dawson and the New World were having an effect on me: now I was the one pouring out my heart.

      “They’ve gone looking for Johnny Stewart, my pal from Glasgow.”

      I fumbled in the depths of my sleeve and brought out a handkerchief. It was well laundered and many times mended. Someone had embroidered JPD in perfect, tiny blue stitches in one corner. I didn’t remember knowing anyone with the initials JPD.

      Ray came around the desk and patted me on the shoulder with as much awkwardness as if he were trying to soothe a rattlesnake. “There, there, Fee. If Angus is with Sterling, he’ll be okay.”

      “But I don’t know if he found Sterling,” I blubbered shamelessly. “Maybe he went after Sterling but didn’t go in the right direction. Maybe he’s lost in the wilderness, set upon by Indian barbarians.”

      “Now you’re letting your imagination run away, Fee. No one can get lost in the wilderness round here. The trail leading from Dawson to the Creeks is better marked than the road from Glasgow to Edinburgh, although a mite rougher in places, I hear. And as for Indians, they take one look at Angus, and they’ll be more than happy to bring him home, expecting a fat reward.”

      I got to my feet and turned to look out the window. As usual, a horse was floundering in the mud: the mud too thick, the horse too ill fed, the cart too heavily loaded. And, as usual, the driver screamed until the veins in his neck were about to pop and flailed at the emaciated beast’s flanks as if that would do any good. Better if he got behind the cart and pushed, or better still, unloaded the cart. The Vanderhaege sisters’ bakery was back in full operation, the burnt-out shell torn down and a new one replaced in a day. Graham Donohue walked by, keeping to the far side of the street. He glanced at the Savoy but scurried away. Something was bothering him. If I’d been less worried about my son, I might have found time to worry about what had spooked our intrepid American newspaperman so much since the murder of Jack Ireland. But right now, Graham’s guilt, or innocence, was nothing more than a niggling thought in the back of my mind, sort of like thinking about a pesky mosquito when one is confronted by a hungry grizzly bear.

      “You’re right, Ray,” I said. “But how can I not worry?”

      “Did you speak to anyone?”

      “No.”

      “I’ll go ’round to the fort. Say I’m looking for Sterling. That he owes me money or some such. Ask when he’s due back.”

      I turned and gave Ray a weak smile. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” I blew my nose in a completely unladylike manner into JPD’s handkerchief.

      “Angus is a smart wee lad, Fiona. He won’t go far if he’s by himself. And if he’s caught up with Sterling, then the Constable’ll look after him. You know that, don’t you?”

      “Yes, Ray. I do know all that.”

      “I’ll see that the boys are ready for the day, then I’ll be off to the fort. Nose around a bit. Maybe someone saw Angus. Now you, Fee, you should go home and have your nap and tidy up. Won’t do yourself any good, not sleeping.”

      “Yes, Ray.” We both looked up at the sound of footsteps in the hallway, followed by a discreet cough.

      Sergeant Lancaster stood in the doorway, clutching his hat to his chest. I’d only left Lancaster a couple of hours ago. I could imagine him wandering through the darkened streets gazing at the moon like a love-struck fool.

      I was not in any mood to pretend to be polite. “Yes, Sergeant. Can I help you with something?”

      Of course, like a love-struck fool, he didn’t pick up anything in my voice or manner that he didn’t want to. “Is this man bothering you, Mrs. MacGillivray?”

      Ray swallowed a laugh. “Certainly not. I am…distraught…and Mr. Walker is reminding me of my responsibilities.” I hated being caught in a naked display of emotion. Like an American. I glared at Lancaster.

      Lancaster glared at Ray, and Ray could hardly hide his smirk. “Guess I’ll be off then, Fee,” my partner said. “Unless you need me to hang around. A chaperone, like.”

      “Go away.” He left, still chuckling. Ray loved Angus. His belief in my son’s safety gave me a good deal of comfort. I turned to Lancaster. “Now that you’re here, Sergeant…”

      “I don’t care for that man,” Lancaster said. “I don’t think his intentions towards you are entirely honourable, Mrs. MacGillivray.”

      More honourable than yours. I sat down with a thud. Most unladylike, to make a sound when seating oneself.

      “Mrs. MacGillivray.” Lancaster rounded the desk and stood looking down at me. His eyes were on fire, his breath rough and uneven. “Fiona. My dear. Surely you must understand that in this place your precious, God-given reputation is open to any man’s evil thoughts. Think of your late husband. He must be looking down from Heaven, so dreadfully worried about you.”

      That did it. Time to get rid of the overbearing Sergeant Lancaster, even if I did myself and my business an injury. I opened my mouth.

      “Think of your dear son.”

      I closed it again. What if something did happen to Angus? Since Ray’s lecture, my fears were receding, but suppose Angus never caught up with Sterling. Or perhaps they were set upon by bandits. Although no one had reported bandits operating in the Yukon. If something terrible came to pass, I would need all possible assistance, and the good will, of every member of the NWMP. And, according to Sterling, Lancaster, useless as he might be, had the respect of his fellow officers. I cocked my head to one side.

      “Please, Sergeant Lancaster. I appreciate your courtesy, but I need some time alone.” Taking a chance at appearing too theatrical, I touched my forehead with the back of my hand. “I am feeling quite unwell.”

      Lancaster blushed, with considerably less charm than young McAllen had earlier. I had touched upon a feminine matter—a matter of some delicacy. Enough to have most men running for the hills (or the bars) in terror. I wondered if Lancaster had ever been married. If he had, he’d probably bored Mrs. Lancaster to death. I didn’t even know, nor did I care to find out, his first name.

      “Pardon me, my dear. I apologize.” He stumbled backwards, bumping his fleshy hip on the corner of my desk. “When I saw you standing at the window, looking so lovely, I thought you might be in need of assistance.” He backed his way out of the room. I fluttered my fingers to say goodbye.

      Once I heard the heavy tread of his boots on the stairs, I jumped up, slammed the office door shut, and burst into another round of tears.

      I could take almost anything life could threaten me with—I’d

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