Gold Dust by Emily Krokosz

un-boyishly in that long boyish stride of hers. Jonah combed a hand through
     his hair and blew out a frustrated sigh. Katy O’Connell could teach most of the world’s harlots a thing or two about subtle
     seduction. What she did to a man ought to be against the law.

CHAPTER 5

    Skagua
was an Indian word describing a very windy place, a member of the ship’s crew had told Katy, and Skaguay, true to its name,
     was windy on the morning the steamer reached its destination. It was also gray, drizzly, and cold, despite the month still
     being August. Ice floes had littered the last leg of their journey and now mingled with the ships in Skaguay’s harbor. Summer
     ended early in Alaska, and the air held an ominous promise of autumn.
    From Katy’s vantage point in the harbor, the town looked unprepossessing. In fact, it didn’t even look like a town. Few permanent-looking
     buildings dignified the settlement. Tents of all sizes and descriptions sat haphazardly on the effluvium deposited at the
     mouth of the Skaguay River, which flowed along the west side of the town to empty into the Lynn Canal, a north-reaching finger
     of the sea that had Skaguay at its northern extremity.
    Despite its drab appearance, the settlement seemed alive with excitement. Boats small and large crowded the harbor, and more
     were arriving. Heedless of the danger and waste of good ammunition, high-spirited passengers fired off guns at birds, porpoises,
     ice floes—anything that they could get in their sights that wasn’t human, and sometimes that was. Toadd to the confusion, lifeboats, log rafts, and dinghies littered the harbor. Passengers, freight, and livestock had to be
     transported in these fragile vessels about two hundred yards over the rough water from the anchored boats to the beach, for
     the docking wharf was only half-built. Piles of freight decorated the strand like so much seaweed, and men scurried about
     with carts and pack animals, moving it to higher ground before the tide could swallow it up.
    Their steamer had anchored at midmorning and for the last hour had worked at unloading. Two lifeboats were in use, but Captain
     Jeffries wouldn’t allow livestock to go ashore in his precious boats. Log rafts were floated out from the shore for those
     passengers who had to transport mules, horses, and the like. One fellow had traveled with a sled and an eight-dog sled team,
     despite it still being summer. Another had brought a bicycle with him and protested loudly when it wouldn’t fit into the lifeboat.
     Finally, he was forced to endure the passage to shore on an open raft.
    Katy waited on the deck with Hunter and her little valise, content to wait her turn on one of the rafts. She wasn’t impatient.
     This experience was worth savoring, despite the wind and the drizzle. Besides, she would just as soon wait until the anxious
     ones, the ones who overloaded their rafts and didn’t take the time to balance their loads, were already on the beach or had
     dumped themselves into the cold water. Did they believe a few minutes, or even a few hours, would make a difference in them
     finding gold? Katy wondered.
    In the early afternoon she watched Jonah Armstrong and his little group of goldseekers cross in a lifeboat. Their crossing
     was a rough one. The weather had deteriorated during the day. When the boat tipped dangerously, Jonah was the one who was
     up and ordering that the weight be redistributed. Katy recognized him from his size—he was as tall as her pa, and that was
     tall. He didn’t seem so tall up close, because he had a masculine broadness that put him nicely in proportion, but next to
     the others on the lifeboat, he was easy to pick out.
    Katy had said a cheerful good-bye to him when she had served his breakfast that morning. She’d even been generous enough to
     wish him luck. He would need it. There was little chance of him coming to his senses and rehiring her as his guide, even if
     the much-vaunted Mr. David