and by being on the far side of the room when they lay down to sleep.
He cautioned himself to patience. The break-up was coming—not just for the lakes, but for them, and with it, his opportunity to have Lily alone.
He built his craft on the shore, electing not to set it up on the ice as many others did for he feared the break-up’s power and unpredictability. No one could say exactly when the ice in Lake Bennett would fail, but Jack expected it would be awe-inspiring. When he could not work for exhaustion, he gathered with other men to share what they knew of the river. He borrowed a tattered copy of the December fifteenth edition of the Dawson City News, now four months old. Jack had read the passage concerning White Horse Rapids often and knew it by heart.
The rapids are a half mile long and dangerous. A reef of rock juts from the left shore as the river narrows and the water boils with waves running five feet in height. Here a long boat comes in handy as a short one falls mercy to the waves. The landing is to the left beyond the reef and to the right lie the graves of those who drowned in their attempt.
He had not shown Lily the article, for he saw no need to have a hysterical woman on his hands, but he did bring her to see his completed boat. She surveyed his work with a critical eye.
“You’ve doubled the planking on the bottom,” she noted.
“To strengthen the hull,” he said, noticing how her dark hair shone in the light.
“Then why not the front?”
“It’s called the bow.”
He tried for her hand and she stepped around the boat on the pretence of inspecting his handiwork, but actually putting the hull between them. He smiled. Run, but you can’t hide.
“That’s the part that’s likely to hit the rocks at White Horse Pass.”
He scowled, staring at the boat again, thinking that she might be right. “How do you know about the pass?”
“Did you think that because I’m Irish I can’t read?”
He had indeed thought that. “Of course not.”
She sniffed. “Men are laying wagers on the break-up. Odds say it will be on May twenty-fifth.”
“Did you lay a bet?”
She laughed. “Jack, I don’t lay bets, though I have occasionally taken them.”
She glanced across the frozen lake. “Snow’s already gone from the hillsides, but this ice is as stubborn as any Irishman, overstaying his welcome.” She turned back to him. “I know it’s May already, but do you think we’ll see Dawson by June?”
“Possibly. July definitely.”
“And the snows coming again by September. That’s not long to lay your claim on the Eldorado.”
“I won’t be digging by a stream. Those claims will be long gone.”
She sighed, the worry returning to her eyes. How he wished he could hold her and assure her that everything would be all right. But her concern was well justified. He’d been so focused on the possibility of being alone with her that he’d nearly forgotten the danger of the rest of the journey. Arriving late to Dawson would be the least of his worries.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Afraid you’ll have to feed me all next winter, too?” He tried for a smile and failed. He wanted her so badly he ached. Did she have any idea how much?
Her composure slipped. “I promised you that I would help you all I can, Jack, and so I will.”
“Lily?” He reached for her but she held up a hand to stop him.
“No, Jack. Not again. I know what you’re wanting from me and now you know the way of it with me, as well. But I need you to understand. I made a promise to my ma to see more than the walls of our tenement. I’m here for an adventure and to be part of something bigger than myself. You’ve become very dear to me. But if you’re thinking to have me, I’m asking you not to. I know a man like you doesn’t choose a woman like me for long. I’m trying to be wiser than my ma. She fell to temptation a time or two. They didn’t stay. Nor will you, Jack. So don’t make me fall in love with you and then cast me off so you can return to New York alone.”
“Lily, I never intended…” But he had intended exactly that. He’d had so little respect for his partner he was ready to do whatever she’d