Mary Connealy Read Online Free

vast Amy had believed everyone could come, and there would still be room for more.
    She was wrong. It was ruined.
    Touching a hand to her trembling lips, Amy watched in silence as the Northward inched its way to the dock. The stampeders surged forward, jostling Amy, making her grateful for her nearly healed ribs. A heavy hand seemed to settle on her back, although she felt certain the touch wasn’t personal. For an instant, Amy remembered that busy Seattle street and the careless shoving hands accompanied by cruel laughter that had sent her tumbling into the path of a carriage.
    Amy grabbed the waist-high railing. A fall over the side would be fatal with the distance to plummet and the heavy drag of the Northward pulling water beneath it as it inched along. Amy turned sideways, determined to force her way back from the rail.
    She looked up into the eyes of a man she’d caught watching her from a distance several times. That alone didn’t surprise her. A lot of men watched her. They watched all the women. But this one’s eyes had been sharper than most, with something in them different than that male gleam a woman came to recognize.
    Had he been the one pushing on her? A shudder began deep inside as she thought of the long fall to certain death.
    “Miss Simons?” The man touched the brim of his slouching brown hat. It might have been a cowboy hat at one time, but it had been battered until it sagged over his ears and only curved in the crown because his head held it in place. He seemed to be shoved forward at the mercy of the pack.
    He had a saddle bag over one shoulder with a flat seining pan clattering softly against a pick anytime the ship bobbed or the shifting mass of humanity bumped him.
    Keeping a firm grip on the railing, she said, “Yes?” She didn’t like him knowing her name, although she imagined few secrets remained about her after all this time aboard ship. Her wariness didn’t ease just because he had a few manners.
    “My name is Thompson, Miss Simons, Darnell Thompson. I couldn’t help overhearing you discuss your journey with Braden Rafferty.” The man smiled, but to Amy his expression seemed calculating.
    He shrugged under his shearling coat. “I’m headed in much the same direction myself. I wondered if I might travel along with you once we leave the ship.”
    Amy couldn’t bring herself to casually include him. “Whether we travel the same trail or not is surely not my decision.”
    The man watched her. Looking around for a long moment, his eyes focused over her shoulder as if he saw someone he knew. He gave one firm nod. “Fair enough. More men on a trail makes for safe passage. I’ll discuss it with Rafferty.”
    “You do that.” Amy stared into the man’s eyes. They were a strange hazel color, brown flecked with gold. The mission teacher had taught her to be wary of men, and though she’d made an exception for Braden, this man didn’t inspire such trust.
    Mr. Thompson tugged on his much-maligned hat and left her by the railing. Although he’d looked past Amy’s shoulder at someone or something, he turned and went in the opposite direction. Seconds later, Stucky appeared at her back.
    Amy clenched her jaw, preparing to use all the cool manners she’d learned from the missionaries. Before she had to bear the miner’s questions, Braden approached. Amy glanced around, expecting Thompson to come up again and invite himself on the trail. He’d melted into the crowd even though moving through this mob seemed nearly impossible.
    She tried to spot Thompson so she could point him out to Braden.
    He was gone.

Four
    He was gone!
    Braden pushed roughly past the men that separated him from Amy. Complaints and return shoves didn’t stop him. Where had that man gone? Their eyes had met for just a second, and Braden hadn’t liked what he’d seen.
    As Braden reached Amy’s side, he breathed more easily. “One of the crew members said we should be able to hop off this crate in an hour.