At the Rainbow's End Read Online Free Page B

government. Gold buttons and a bandolier of shotgun shells cut across the coat. His clean-shaven face was shadowed by the wide brim of his hat. He lifted his fingers to it in a silent salute, while his gray eyes subdued all the men.
    â€œConstable Palmer French of the North-West Mounted Police at your service, ma’am. Are you hurt?” he repeated.
    â€œI’m fine, although I fear for the condition of my dress.” Samantha glared at the man who had dared to kiss her. “I’m new in Dawson, Constable. If you could suggest a proper boardinghouse, I would be in your debt.”
    He dismounted easily. The men melted away before him. The Mountie made no comment as the street cleared. Only when Olean started to scurry away did the constable move from Samantha.
    â€œHawk, you’re wanted down at the Palace Saloon,” he said quietly. “I understand Gretchen is anxious to see you. Why don’t you hurry down there?”
    â€œI will. I will, Constable,” he mumbled hurriedly. Without looking in Samantha’s direction, he raced along the street.
    Constable French grinned as he turned to the disheveled woman. He had not needed to hear her explanations to know she was a cheechaco, a tenderfoot unfamiliar with this frontier city. Every bit of her shouted her innocence of Dawson. Why she was here and what she planned to do were none of his business, but the questions teased his mind. He did not allow that curiosity to show, but kept his expression professional and serene.
    â€œThank you, Constable,” Samantha said sincerely. “I had been warned about the coarse men of the Yukon, but I didn’t expect this.”
    â€œDawson is quite a shock for most of the folks who arrive from the States. A boardinghouse, did you say?”
    â€œYes.” His reply had been so businesslike, she answered in the same manner, “I need a place to stay, and someone to clean the mud from my dress.”
    He allowed his eyes to rove along the damp pattern on her skirt. She was a pretty thing, not worn by rough weather and hard labor like so many women who lived here. He could not remember the last time he had seen a woman this soft. His fingers yearned to touch her loosened dark curls, which accented her high cheek bones, wanted to determine if those vagrant strands were silken as they looked. Fiercely, he forced that thought from his head.
    â€œMrs. Kellogg,” he answered trying to cover his hesitation. “She does laundry for the miners in the area. Whether she can clean a wool suit, I don’t know. As for a boarding-house, I fear you may have trouble finding one acceptable to a lady.”
    Although she felt cold fear seep into her, she said calmly, “One worry at a time. Can you direct me to Mrs. Kellogg’s place?”
    â€œI will be glad to escort you there.” He reached for her satchel.
    She drew it away in a motion she knew was impolite. She could trust no strangers. Too many had eyed her today. “Directions will be sufficient, Constable.”
    â€œIf you please, Miss Perry, I’ll escort you.”
    â€œHow do you know my name?”
    He smiled and pointed to her muddy satchel. “Most people don’t write someone else’s name on their baggage, Miss Perry. I assume that is your name.”
    â€œYes.” Trying to recall her manners which were as strained as her nerves, she said, “I’m Samantha Perry.”
    â€œIt’s a pleasure, ma’am. Now why don’t you let me take you out to Mrs. Kellogg’s? I patrol these streets and try to keep some semblance of order. I don’t want to have to break up another such scene as I came upon here.” When she paled, he held out his hand. “Your case?”
    Silently she placed her bag in his gloved hand. When he offered her his arm, she put her fingers on it, gingerly. Her other hand held up her skirt to keep from further dirtying it with the filth in the road.
    He