Gold Rush Groom - By Jenna Kernan Page 0,4

had almost claimed his only chance. They had saved the lot. Together, and with her horse of a hound, they’d reached safety with all his equipment and tools intact. He had read about the tidal bores, of course, but that couldn’t compare to riding the mountainous waves that heaved through the narrow inlet. He’d never imagined having to fight one. Now that he and all his goods were past the high-water mark, he stared a moment, finding the phenomenon fascinating. His father would love to see this!

That thought dashed Jack’s exaltation as memories rolled in, relentless as any rising tide. There was no sense in looking back. If he was to be his own man, his future lay ahead.

The big dog whined, anxious to get under way. Jack glanced at the beast, happy for the distraction.

The black bitch was strong as any mule, she could swim better than a Labrador and in water as cold as an ice bath. He eyed the huge shaggy creature. How much weight could one dog pull?

The dog’s mistress stepped beside her, grounding Jack’s thoughts firmly in the here and now. Their eyes met.

Damn it to hell.

The permanence of their arrangement crept over him slowly like a thin layer of ice on a mill pond. He felt sick to his stomach as he thought of all the things that might happen to her while she was in his keeping. Another female in his care, the idea pressed down upon his shoulders, making it hard to breathe. But if he hadn’t agreed, then what would become of the two he’d left behind? His carefully laid plans had already begun to crumble like old masonry. He thought he might be sick.

To provide for the two at home, he had to save his gear, and that meant there really was no choice at all. The little hellion had entrapped him as neatly as any spider. With luck, she’d find someone better and drop him like yesterday’s news, just like his fiancée had done when she’d heard of his family’s ruin.

Why hadn’t the available information about the Yukon included something about this mayhem arrival? Jack had planned and studied, taking into account the cold, snow and ice, anticipated river travel and mountain-climbing. He had calculated his supplies and equipment with the excruciating exactitude of the mechanical engineer he had nearly become, taking in every eventuality but one. He had not, in his wildest dreams, imagined that the Pacific Coast Steamship Company would not have constructed a proper dock in Dyea on which to moor their vessel.

Sunk by unforeseen circumstances. Was he no wiser than his father, risking all on one wild venture?

Perhaps not, but he was stronger than his sire, for he’d not cut and run at the first sign of adversity. He might look the part of a dandy, as his new partner had assumed, but he was that man no longer. Circumstances had changed him. Now he needed to succeed just as badly as anyone here. More, in fact. Jack needed to seize the glimmering opportunity to restore what his father had lost—their good name, the respect of his peers, the ability to care for what was left of his family and the future that he still craved. He would reach that gold-bearing gravel in Eldorado Creek so he could try his invention, even if he had to carry this female all the way to Forty Mile.

He glanced at the woman—his partner—giving her a critical once-over. The lift of her pointed chin, the slight curve fixed upon her lips and the narrowing of her eyes made her look both beautiful and wary. No doubt she was trying to size him up as well. He knew she was surprisingly strong for one stricken with such a diminutive body, but she was still only a woman and so his physical and mental inferior. She stood motionless in her crimson coat. Her cuffs and hood were adorned with lush dark fur, possibly wolf. The tight fit showed her to be petite, curvaceous and trim, exactly the type of woman he’d like to bed, but not at all the kind he would choose as a traveling companion. The only thing about her that did not speak of feminine grace was the large Colt repeater strapped to her hip. It seemed impossibly large against her small frame as evidenced by the extra bore holes that kept the wide belt from sliding off her flaring hips. She wore it cinched at the narrowest