At the Rainbow's End Read Online Free Page A

stood on the boardwalk and sighed, the heat sitting heavily on her. She longed to take off her cloak and the wool jacket beneath it, but carrying them in addition to her reticule and her satchel would be difficult. She must avoid dropping anything into the mud.
    Looking both ways along Front Street, she tried to decide which way to walk. She was intensely aware of every glance in her direction. Men moving in a steady stream along the mud-covered street paused to stare. More than one tipped his hat jauntily, but she did not acknowledge them, afraid of enticing them.
    She walked away from the junction of the Klondike River and the Yukon. When she had driven with Gwen and Mr. Munroe, it had seemed the better houses were in the opposite direction. Now, smiling wryly, she doubted that any of the houses could really be termed “better.” None seemed sturdier than a balsa raft constructed to amuse a child.
    Flinching, she slapped away a mosquito. The whine of another sounded near her ear. Waving a hand about her head sent the insect away for only a second.
    â€œNasty pests,” said a man, his voice close to her other ear.
    She whirled to see a man as filthy as the others on the street. Very little of his face was visible between his broken rimmed hat and the full, black beard obliterating his lower features.
    Continuing along the boardwalk, she forced herself not to look at the man, who matched her pace. Her heart was pounding.
    â€œLost?” he asked in a voice blurred with alcohol.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œInterested in some company?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen what do you want, honey?”
    Without pausing, she snapped, “To be left alone. Good day, sir.” She gasped as he took her arm and turned her around, leering at her.
    Other men stopped what they were doing to watch Hawk Olean and the pretty lady. Olean had struck a rich pocket just last week, and was steadily spending it on the lavish entertainments available in the city. He had vowed not to let a single woman in Dawson escape his attentions before he returned broke to his claim.
    â€œLet me go!” Samantha ordered. She jerked her arm out of his grip, but the glitter of drunken amusement in his eyes told her he was not going to let her flee easily.
    She did not know why someone did not come to her assistance. In desperation, she searched for an ally, but she knew this was futile. The only person she knew in the city was busy with her new husband. When Olean stepped toward her purposefully, she had no place to escape but down into the muddy road. The crowd closed in tightly around them, leaving little space for Samantha and the obnoxious brute. If she moved any farther, she would be in another man’s embrace.
    She screamed as he caught her by the arms. A lusty cheer rang through the afternoon air when he pressed her close to his sour body. Her second shriek was halted by his mouth over hers. She pummeled his shoulders and back, but he did not release her.
    â€œWhat’s this?” demanded an authoritarian voice. The lewd comments stopped immediately. In the silence, she heard a horse’s hoofs, muted by the mud.
    The man released her, and Samantha fell backward. Her revulsion became dismay. She sat in mire thick with garbage. Appalled, she lifted her hands to stare at the ooze dribbling from them. Once gray, her gloves were streaked with foul brown.
    â€œSomeone help her!” came an order in the same firm pleasant tenor, and several hands appeared before her face.
    Disdaining these belated offers, Samantha rose by herself. Rage distorted her features as she lifted her satchel from the mud. She feared it and all the things within had been ruined.
    â€œAre you hurt?”
    Finally she looked at the man who had come to her rescue. His scarlet uniform took fire from the brilliant sunlight, further dimming the drab buildings. Even without the insignia, she would have recognized him as a representative of the Canadian