"All you have to do is pretend I'm your sister," she said.
Frustrated, Sergeant Colton Hunter of the North-West
Mounted Police stared at the bold young woman sitting
across from him in the first-class compartment of the
train. Her posture stiffened. Colt pressed his shoulder to
the velvet drapes of the rumbling window and assessed her
money-bought looks.
"Miss, I can no more pretend you're my sister than I can
pretend you're my maid."
"Try harder. You can start with the name. It's not Miss.
It's not Doctor. It's Elizabeth. Just plain Elizabeth."
There was nothing plain about her, yet there was no way on
earth he wanted to be stuck with Dr. Elizabeth Langley. to
her father, knew otherwise. He would never trust her again.
What she'd done to him in his personal life had been
reckless. Maybe accidental, but reckless nonetheless.
And now this.
The morning sun billowed over the Coast Mountains of
British Columbia, through their window, and lit the red
sleeve of his Mountie uniform. They'd only been riding east
for fifteen minutes and were still making stops on the
outskirts of Vancouver when Colt stood up and slid the
aisle door closed to prevent anyone from overhearing.
He had one last chance at trying to convince her. "Listen,
miss, I don't know why you think I'm supposed to be your
savior. Take this train across the country like you
planned. Take that ship to England. They're expecting you."
He tossed his Mountie Stetson to the seat and eased in
beside it.
"I have no intention of doing that," said the young
doctor. "I'm getting out at the next stop with you and your
men. Furthermore—"
"Why do you always make things difficult?"
"They don't have to be. Just escort me to the Klondike.
You're going anyway—"
"Sh." Exasperated, he leaned forward on the cushion. His
long legs, straining beneath dark breeches, penetrated the
swirl of her gray satin skirts. "Miss, I beg of you, lower
your voice. Or better yet, pinch your lips together. You're
jeopardizing my mission and the safety of my men. Surely
even you can understand that."
Her face colored as ripe as a berry.
Her dark blond hair, pulled tight above her ears, exposed
flushed cheeks and searching brown eyes. Soft amber stones
dangled off her ears.
It was hard to believe she was a newly graduated doctor.
Her youth—midtwenties—and her gender contrasted sharply
with the gray-haired doctors most folks were accustomed to
seeing. Dressed from head to toe in shiny gray satin, she
looked untouchable. But then, she'd always been above his
station. Lace and satin were buttoned up to her throat.
They might rouse another man's curiosity as to the spoils
that lay beneath, but Colt would be damned if he'd give in
to those thoughts.
Nonetheless, he tugged at his hot collar. A small gray hat,
adorned with a burgundy feather that plucked the air as she
spoke, topped the blond curls pinned on her head. A highly
ridiculous outfit for traveling.
"My father doesn't think I'm jeopardizing your mission."
Elizabeth straightened her spine again on the red velvet
seat. "When you get to the Yukon border where the crimes
are occurring, you're to escort me to my grandfather's door
while the rest of your men finish the investigation."
"Perfect," he said with sarcasm. "Just what every officer
wants to hear. To be on the brink of adventure and freedom.
To head the team directly into the heart of danger, only to
be cut short and forced to escort a…" His gaze swept over
her.
Her lips pressed together. Her cheeks grew taut. "A what?"
"A coddled young woman to Dawson City."
She gasped. "I'm a doctor."
"Of what?"
The light in her eyes flared. "I beg your pardon?"
"You're a doctor of rashes and fevers…or whatever else ails
the female population of high society Vancouver." He
wondered what else she spent her time on, when privately
summoned by a lady's maid. Childbirth? The menstrual
cycle? "You've no business interfering in the lives of
working men. Hardworking men you don't understand."
"I'm not here for your insults. I know all about the
differences between men and women."
Elizabeth reeled to the window, but not before he saw the
dewy sheen that sprang to her eyes.
He fought the urge to feel sorry for her.
She would have to come to terms with her father's
limitations on what she could and couldn't practice in
medicine. Her father, the Finance Minister of Canada, liked
to call himself a champion for women's education, but there
were natural limits to his generosity.
Folks weren't comfortable with female doctors. It was said
they took business away from men, that women didn't have
the constitution needed to handle gruesome illness or
surgery. Being the Minister's daughter put her in an
awkward social situation, as well. She couldn't very well
work beneath her.
And her father had forbidden her to practice medicine on
men. She was forbidden to touch male strangers, and
forbidden to have a man "drop his drawers" in front of her.
It was indecent, Colt agreed.
"I know what your anger stems from." She turned stiffly
toward him, the ruffles on her bosom fluttering.
"And I can't seem to apologize enough for the heartache I
caused you at Christmas—"
"Perhaps you did me a favor."
"I did you no favor. Please, let's not pretend. And you're
doing me no favor in taking me north. You're doing your
duty."
Who the hell was she, telling him what his duties were?
Perhaps this quality of hers was why her own engagement had
fallen apart.
His muscles flexed beneath his uniform. It was no use
fighting her. Her father was too powerful. "I shall do my
duty, miss, as promised."
The train screeched around a curve. Sunlight slanted across
her cheekbones. "Why do you insist on calling me miss? One
would think that after eight years' time—"
"It's my duty."
She groaned.
"I'll escort you to the Klondike." He shifted his legs in
the tight space between them. "But first we've got to go
over the rules."
She leaned back. "All right. I'll listen to your rules.
Colt." He hated when she used his first name. He hated her
ability to weave in and out of his private life. For the
next five weeks, she'd be doing exactly that.
His plan had been simple until two days ago, when she'd
confided to her father that she wanted to join her
grandfather in the Klondike for the summer. Apparently, she
preferred to practice medicine on the hundreds of migrating
women instead of touring England.
Gold had recently been discovered in Dawson City, Yukon.
The gold rush was creating a frantic pitch heard around the
world. Most stampeders wereAmerican, but the Klondike
belonged to Canada and was policed by the Mounties. With a
population that'd swelled overnight to thirty-five
thousand, the area had an overabundance of gold but few
resources to feed, clothe and house the miners.
Food items that sold for pennies in Vancouver sold for one
hundred times their value in gold dust in Dawson City.
Criminals infested the trails. A Klondike crime ring was
targeting incoming food supplies. Since the Finance
Minister was responsible for some of those supply lines
getting through, he was sending Colt as part of a team of
six Mounties to infiltrate the ring. They would travel in
disguise as a group of brothers. They'd be hauling a ton of
sausages to exchange for a fortune.
What better way to attract thieves than with a cache of
goods literally worth its weight in gold?
But she wanted to be their sister. Colt pressed his hand to
his thigh. "You're not a doctor."
She smiled in disbelief. "Pardon me?" "Rule number one—on
this journey, forget you're a doctor."
Her smile faded. "What on earth for?" "We're supposed to be
a modest family of ranchers seeking a great fortune. We
don't want anyone thinking you're educated. Or wealthy."
An artery at the base of her throat pulsed. "But the whole
purpose of my going is to treat women when I get there."
"I understand that, but I'll need to get you there without
compromising my duties." He glanced at the suede bag by her
feet. "Since you're not a doctor, you've got to leave your
medical bag behind."
"But the patients when I get there—"
"You can borrow supplies. From the two or three doctors
already at the hospital—"
"That hospital is nothing more than two log huts. They
don't have enough—"
"If you can't abide by the first rule, then you can't—"
"What if someone falls ills on the journey? Someone in
distress—" "You'll ignore them."
Elizabeth stared at him in dismay. The train careened
around a corner and they braced themselves. She looked,
quite simply, as though she wanted to throttle him.
"We'll be traveling in the wilderness. No help, no towns,
no shops to buy supplies. Nothing but the wind and sun
around us. What about wild animals and accidents that might
befall us? What if someone on the team gets ill? One of
your men? Maybe you."
"We can take care of our own bruises."
"Bruises? Is that what you think I do?"
"Look, we can't risk you taking the bag. Some folks might
have heard of your father. Or maybe his unusual daughter."
"But I've got a whole trunk of badly needed gauze and
tonics—"
"Sorry. Not on this trip."
She snapped to the window and stared at the passing
shanties. The woods were getting thicker. They were leaving
Vancouver behind.
Her cap and feather shifted on her head. "What if I take
some essential supplies and tuck them into my clothing bag,
but leave the medical bag behind?"
Colt leaned back into the plush upholstery. "That might
work. But you can only lend us the supplies. No strangers.
You can't let on you're a doctor."
She pressed her mouth closed and yanked off her hat. "Rule
number two," he continued. "We're changing our names."
"Yes, of course. But how am I to—"
"I'll make it as simple as possible. Our surname will be
Blade. Your first name will be Liza. It's close enough to
Elizabeth so if your real name slips out, no one will
blink. I'll keep mine as Colt, Tommy will remain Tommy. As
for the other four men you haven't met yet, I'll introduce
you by their new names so it won't confuse you. You think
you can heed that?"
She nodded. "The Blade family. From where?" "Ottawa. We
sold our ten acres of farmland to buy supplies for the trip
and payment on a gold claim. You know the Ottawa area from
your travels with your father almost as well as we do, so
picture it in your mind if someone asks."
"And our parents? Where are they?"
"They died in a terrible fire."
"How awful." She sniffed. "How old were we?"
"No one's going to ask that."
She surveyed him. "They might."
"You were the youngest at six, okay?"
He watched her lashes flicker. "That's so tragic." Colt
sighed. "I'm the oldest. Ten years older than you. I'm
bossy, okay? I boss everyone around and you all listen." He
was the commanding officer on the team, so this would make
sense.
"I bet you're the least liked."
Colt scowled. "The final rule. Number three. You've got to
look and act the part of my obedient sister. You're not
above my station. You're not an eyelash better than me. Got
that?"
"Huh," she moaned softly. She wove her satin-gloved fingers
together, looked down at her lap and fingered her cap.
Sunlight streaked the blond hair amassed on top of her head.
With a swoop of his broad Stetson, Colt rose. He glanced
through the window at the jagged mountains. "We're almost
there. Twenty more minutes."
She had bought tickets to London months ago to visit
friends. Colt was supposed to escort her partway by train,
so they were still using the story as a cover to hide their
new trip to the Klondike. Everyone in Vancouver would think
she was spending the summer in London. When she didn't
arrive in London, everyone there would think she'd changed
her mind and was remaining back home. But her real journey
was about to start.
He opened the door that led to a private bath and sleeping
quarters. "It's time for you to change. I'll change out
here and then flag Tommy back in."
She rose, and by the color in her cheeks, was finally
catching on that he was boss here. She brushed by him in a
womanly sway, a bundle of satin and feathers. Colt inhaled
her fresh scent and observed how the delicate fabric fell
against her ample curves.
She had a hell of a walk—a way of penetrating into a man's
private thoughts, making him imagine all sorts of things
and lingering in his imagination when she wasn't welcome.
Abruptly, he turned away.
He'd never confess it aloud, but rule number three would be
the most difficult one for him. He swallowed hard.
Sister. Elizabeth was his devoted sister.
Why did he provoke her at every opportunity? Alone and half-
naked in the private quarters of the train, Elizabeth
tugged a chemise over her corset, shoved her bare arms into
a simple white blouse, then fastened the multitude of
buttons, silently criticizing Colt.
What could be wrong with a woman wanting adventure and
freedom, the very things he'd mentioned?
Men and women were similar in many regards. Weren't they
equally cheered at seeing the sun rise on a warm spring
day? Didn't they both enjoy the taste of a strong cup of
coffee? Weren't they equally touched by the sad tales of
the weary traveler?
Her enthusiasm for adventure didn't mean she didn't want
home and family, too. When Elizabeth had ventured to tell
someone—her dear Gerard—about her bigger dreams, he had
been dismayed.
Gerard. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of seeing him
in the Klondike. A twinge of guilt followed, at how he must
have felt reading her goodbye letter. How sad that in six
months' time, he hadn't written back. Was he that angry
with her?
It seemed anger was the only sentiment she was able to
evoke in men. First her father. Then Gerard. Now Colt.
With a sigh, Elizabeth stepped into a brown muslin skirt.
Cool mountain air whisked up her bare thighs. She pulled
the skirt over her hips and clasped the buttons.
She'd prove that her abilities as a doctor were equal to
any man's. That no one could bar her from treating male
patients. If she could ease someone's discomfort in
sickness or injury, no matter what their sex, then why
should it matter to a bunch of other healthy men who ran
the country?
And there was her other personal dilemma, her uncle's
secret whispered on his deathbed…she'd see to that in the
Klondike, too. Gerard would have to answer directly to her.
She thought she knew Gerard, yet if he was involved in the
theft with her uncle…