When a knock sounded, she sat up. “Come in.”
“Sorry to disturb you,” Lucky said. “I just need a coat. It’s a chilly night.”
“You didn’t disturb me.” She found the nearby lamp and flint box and lit the wick. “I wasn’t asleep.”
His gaze settled on her briefly as he walked to the foot of the bunk where nails held a couple of coats. She’d eyed those jackets more than once, expecting she’d need a coat once they arrived in Alaska. There were so many things she’d need, and wasn’t sure how to obtain them. She now had an extra dress. The one from Mrs. Smother. She’d kept her old one, once she’d laundered it—that had been her first lesson in domestic chores, as Mrs. Smother had called it—and she’d never parted with her petticoat and the nugget sewn in it. It was what she’d use to outfit herself for gold mining, but that little nugget wasn’t going to be enough.
Watching Lucky pull down a coat, the thought of what the women below believed made her insides burn with embarrassment. “I promised Captain Trig I wouldn’t say anything to the women about what you told them.”
“I didn’t tell them anything. They assumed.”
She nodded. “He told me that. I’m sorry about putting you in such a predicament.”
Putting on his coat, he let out a snort that held disgust. “Predicament? That’s not what I’d call it.”
His orneriness was a bit irritating. It wasn’t as if she’d done it on purpose. “I don’t like it any more than you do,” she responded.
He scowled.
She let out the air once again heavy in her chest. “I will never get married, and even pretending to be galls me.”
“It galls you?”
“Yes, it galls me.” The cabin was tiny, and made smaller by his large frame filling half of it, yet he didn’t make the space feel uncomfortable, just stuffy with his attitude. She swung her legs over the edge of the bunk and the book she’d been reading earlier fell onto the floor.
It landed next to his feet. He picked it up and handed it to her. “I thought every woman wanted to get married.”
Running a hand over the cover, she said, “Maybe the foolish ones. I plan on having gold. Lots of it. Why would I want to have to share it with someone? A husband, I mean. They’d claim it was theirs as much as it was mine and spend it as they chose.” Her father had done that with the gold she and Smitty had found. Claimed it was partially his since she was his daughter. She set the book on the bed. “I won’t have that.” Not wanting to sound completely callous, she said, “I won’t be a miser. I’ll spend my money. Pay Captain Trig back and buy the things I want. Even share it, but I don’t want anyone telling me what I have to do with it. What I can do with it.”
“What if you don’t find any gold?”
“Not find any gold?” She stood. “I’ll find gold, Lucky. I promise you that.” Encouraged by the tiny half smile that appeared on his face, she added, “I’ll find some for you, too.”
He laughed. “I don’t need anyone finding gold for me. I’ll be finding my own.” When she started to follow him toward the door, he asked, “Where are you going?”
Not embarrassed to tell him, she said, “To the back of the boat.”
He waved toward the wall of the cabin. “You better grab my other coat. It’s chilly out tonight.” Then without waiting to see if she did or not, he opened the door and left.
After using the facilities and thankful the oiled canvas coat blocked the wind, Maddie took a stroll along the rail to use up some energy before attempting to sleep again. Lucky stood behind the big wheel, both hands wrapped around the wooden handles that jutted out all the way around the wheel. The fact he’d spoken to her a few moments ago gave her the courage to walk over and stand beside him.
Smitty had been the only friend she’d ever had, and a raw hole had appeared inside her since she had left him in Colorado. Captain Trig’s kindness had helped, but a friend wasn’t what she needed right now. A partner was. One person could scratch up enough gold to live on, but two people could find enough to set a future, and that was what she wanted. A future.
“I meant what I told you,” she said when Lucky glanced her way. “I’m sorry to have caused such trouble.”
Considering she only came up to his shoulder, Lucky glanced down at her, and though he didn’t say anything, the distrust in his eyes made her insides churn. She tugged the big coat tighter, wrapping the open front around her almost like a blanket. “I meant the other part, too, about never getting married.”
His gaze went to the open water ahead of them, even while he said, “Don’t be saying that too loud, darling. Those women below would still like to toss you overboard.”
The moon was out again, big and bright, and a swirl of frustration rose inside her like smoke leaving a fire to disappear into the air. “I know.”
Sounds from the ship, creaks and thuds, the splash of water and other subtle, unidentifiable noises, filled the quiet void as he stared forward, and Maddie, unable to hold it, let out a long sigh.
“One of them say something to you?” he asked.
“Yes.” More than one. Every time one of the women noticed her they hissed a slur of some kind or another.
“What?”
“Nothing of importance,” she answered.
“What did you say in return?”
“Nothing. I just walked away.”
He nodded before he said, “You best head back to the cabin. The temperature is dropping. I predict we’ll see rain in a few more minutes.”
Maddie, full of questions, wanted to protest, but her good sense prevailed. She’d have to be cautious where Lucky was concerned. “Good night.”
“Night,” he responded without glancing her way.
She made her way back to the cabin. Even though they hadn’t said more than a few words, she still felt hope rising inside her.
Maddie held on to that hope, and each night, long after the boat settled into the quiet darkness, she’d venture out to the wheel after using the facilities at the back of the boat. Though Lucky never appeared happy to see her, he didn’t appear surprised or angered, either, and her hope continued to grow. More so when several days later, Captain Trig said he was pleased to see she and Lucky were on speaking terms again. He said the women below had noticed their late-night meetings and no longer doubted the marriage ruse as much.
One night, while standing near the wheel, she said, “Tell me about Alaska, Lucky. Please.”
“Alaska or gold?” he asked a few moments later.
“Both.”
“You have gold fever, darling.”
Though she’d hated it before, she didn’t mind when he called her darling. It suggested his anger might be diminishing. He’d make a good partner, considering all he knew from the many books he owned. With all Smitty had taught her, the two of them could find a lot of gold together. They’d have to have separate claims, of course. She’d meant what she’d said. Her days of sharing—certain things anyway—were over. He was right, though; she did have gold fever.
“I’ve had it for years,” she answered. “How long have you had it?”
“Who says I have it?”
“Me. I know