Winter Kill. William W. Johnstone
said, “Pleased to meet you, Miss Harpe.”
For the next few minutes, Fiona continued the introductions. The names began to run together in Frank’s head: Elizabeth Jenkins, Ruth Donnelly, Marie Boulieu, Gertrude Nevins, Maureen Kincaid, Ginnie Miller, Constance Wilson, Wilma Keller, Elizabeth Tarrant, and Lucy Calvert. Elizabeth Jenkins went by Elizabeth, Elizabeth Tarrant by Lizzie, so Frank tried to make a note of that in his head. He knew it would take him a while to remember all their names, though. They were all unfailingly polite, and Frank instinctively liked them.
When the introductions were finished, Fiona said, “Well, ladies, you’ve met Mr. Morgan. What do you think of him?”
“He’s very handsome, in a rugged way,” Meg said with a smile.
“I don’t care much for that gun, though,” Gertrude added. “Would a gentleman wear a weapon out in the open like that?”
“Not in Philadelphia, where you’re from, my dear,” Fiona said. “I assure you, Seattle is not Philadelphia.”
Gertrude sniffed. “I know. I heard all sorts of shooting and yelling in the street last night. It frightened me.”
Frank said, “No offense, miss, but where you’re headed will be a lot more rugged and dangerous than Seattle is. You may have to ride horseback for miles up and down mountains, and there’ll be men who won’t hesitate to try to take what they want…which might include you.”
A pink flush spread over Gertrude’s face. “That’s not really a proper thing to say, Mr. Morgan.”
“I was raised to believe that it’s always proper to speak the truth. And the truth is, you ladies are in for a long, difficult journey. You may be faced with bad weather, bad food, and bad men. I promised a friend of mine that I’d do my best to see to it that you get where you’re going safe and sound. That’s what I intend to do if Mrs. Devereaux agrees, and the way I understand it, she’d like for you ladies to agree, too.”
“That’s right,” Fiona said with a nod. “I had originally engaged his friend Mr. Trench to accompany us, but unfortunately, Mr. Trench was killed last night.” She looked at Gertrude. “It may well have been some of the shots you heard that were responsible for his demise.”
Gertrude paled. “How terrible.”
“Yes, it is. But Mr. Morgan has offered to step in for Mr. Trench. I appreciate that gesture on his part and intend to allow him to travel with us. What do you say?”
“I’m all for it,” Meg said.
“So am I,” Lucy added. She was a tall, lanky young woman with long, light brown hair.
Several other women nodded or voiced their agreement, and one by one they all joined in until only Gertrude and Marie hadn’t said one way or the other. Marie, a slender young woman with a lot of curly black hair, shrugged and said with a slight French accent, “One gunman is much the same as another, I suppose.”
“Well, I’m not going to vote against everyone else,” Gertrude said. “I do hope you won’t have to use that awful gun, though, Mr. Morgan.”
“So do I, miss, so do I,” Frank said.
He was going to be damned surprised if that was the way it turned out, though.
With the question of whether or not Frank was going with them settled, Fiona sent the young women back to their rooms. Then she said, “Would you care to join me in the dining room for dinner, Frank? We can discuss the arrangements for the trip.”
“I’d like that,” Frank replied with a nod. “I’ve got some questions about supplies and things like that.”
They spent the next hour in the hotel dining room, eating and discussing the trip. With Skagway being the jumping-off point to Whitehorse and the rich gold fields of the Klondike country, it made sense to buy as many of the supplies needed for the journey as they could here in Seattle. Goods were cheaper and more plentiful than they would be in Skagway.
“We’ll have to buy some fresh meat when we get there, of course,” Frank said, “and then I can probably bag some game while we’re on our way from Skagway over the pass to Whitehorse.” He smiled. “Did you ever have moose steaks?”
A little shudder went through Fiona. “No, not that I’m aware of.”
“Well, I bet you’ll be trying them before we get where we’re going. But we’ll stock up on sugar, flour, salt, things like that, before we leave here. Also ammunition.”
“How many bullets do you think you’ll need?”
“It’s not just for me,” Frank said. “I intend to pick up some pistols for the ladies, and a couple of extra rifles.”
Fiona’s eyes widened. “You intend to arm them? They’re mail-order brides, Frank! I doubt if any of them have ever even held a weapon.”
“I don’t know. That Meg strikes me as the sort who might’ve burned some powder sometime,” Frank said with a grin. “She’s pretty feisty.” He grew more serious as he went on. “I can give them some pointers while we’re on board the ship. But I think it’s important that the ladies be able to protect themselves, at least a little. There’s no telling what might happen along the way. If I wound up dead, the bunch of you wouldn’t be totally defenseless.”
“Don’t even say such a thing! We’re relying on you, Frank. Nothing can happen to you.”
He frowned. “Out here, it’s best to be able to rely on yourself as much as possible. I’m not trying to scare you, Fiona. I just want you—and those gals of yours—to go into this with your eyes open. Seattle can be a rough place, but it’s still civilization. Alaska’s not. It’s just as much an untamed frontier as the country west of the Mississippi was fifty or sixty years ago.”
“Bad weather, bad food, and bad men, as you said earlier, eh?” she said, cocking an eyebrow at him.
“That’s right. And I forgot to mention the bears and wolves and varmints like that.”
Fiona shook her head. “Why would men even want to go to a place like that?”
“For what they think is the best reason of all…gold.”
“But you don’t think that?” she asked with a shrewd look on her face.
“I’m old enough to know that there are a lot of things in this world gold can’t buy you.”
“Then you’re a wise man, Frank Morgan.”
“I don’t know that I’d say that. Anyway, maybe you’d better not say anything to the ladies about the guns until we’re on board the Montclair. I think Miss Gertrude might have a fit if she thought she was going to have to learn how to shoot a pistol.”
“I think you’re right about that,” Fiona said.
After they finished their meal, Fiona went back upstairs to her suite, while Frank headed for the waterfront again. He wanted to talk to Captain Hoffman again and make arrangements for Stormy, Goldy, and Dog to come with him.
A different officer was on deck this afternoon instead of the surly Brewster. He was pleasant enough as he told Frank to come aboard and said in answer to Frank’s question, “Captain Hoffman is in his cabin, sir. Do you know where that is?”
“Yeah, I do. Thanks.”
Frank went below to the captain’s cabin and rapped on the door. When Hoffman asked who was there, he said, “Frank Morgan, Captain.”
“Come in, please.”
Frank went in and found Hoffman sitting at the desk, looking over some of the charts spread out there. The captain glanced up with a smile.
“Is your business with Mrs. Devereaux all squared away, Mr. Morgan?” he asked.
Frank