Chapter 16
Sixteen
S age couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible had happened to Augusta. Before leaving for Salt Spring Island, she’d known something was wrong. Why hadn’t she pushed for answers?
As she stood at the railing of the hurricane deck of their steamboat and let the evening breeze blow against her face, she hugged her cloak around her arms to ward off a chill that didn’t come from the wind.
Behind them in the west, the sun had already finished its descent, and now darkness was settling around her. After spending the day traveling up the Fraser River, she and Jackson would only make it to Centreville—not far enough, but the captain had informed them he would be stopping for the night and that they would continue to Hope in the morning.
She tried to quell her frustration that they hadn’t reached Hope today. But Jackson had warned her they might not since they’d gotten a late start leaving Victoria.
Jackson had done the best he could earlier in the day to find a steamboat captain who was available and didn’t already have other obligations. That task had been daunting, but the sizable payment Jackson offered had helped them secure passage on the Widower , a small but tidy steamboat whose captain claimed he’d made hundreds of trips up and down the Fraser River.
While waiting for the steamboat to be ready to leave, Jackson had investigated along the waterfront, trying to discover whether anyone had spotted Augusta yesterday. But he hadn’t found any information about her, and no one had seen a woman who matched her photograph. Without a definite sighting of Augusta, Jackson had questioned the wisdom of traveling all the way to Hope. But they hadn’t found any other clues, which left them with no other recourse but to visit Hope and pray she was there.
Finally, shortly after noon, she and Jackson, with their bags, had boarded the Widower . The trip across the Strait of Georgia and up the Fraser River had been uneventful, even peaceful. They’d spent most of the afternoon lounging in deck chairs, watching the scenery and talking.
They’d discussed every reason why Augusta was in trouble, and Sage had made a list of the possibilities, including unpaid debts, other financial problems, family enemies, a personal enemy, revenge, and greed.
Sage had even added the chance that the kidnapper had taken Augusta because he wanted a wife. In the colony where men outnumbered women, it was certainly an option, even though Jackson didn’t think so.
She’d told Jackson about the jewels she’d uncovered in the Firths’ yard. While the velvet bag with the jewels was still in the drawer in her room, they’d discussed the option that the kidnapper had wanted them back and would hold Augusta as a prisoner until they handed the jewels over.
Sage could admit the conversations with Jackson had been the highlight of the trip, even more so than getting to see the stunning mountain vistas on all sides. When they’d exhausted their discussion of Augusta, they’d found other topics to chat about. As usual, Jackson was a fount of knowledge about everything, going into great detail for most subjects, whether the history of the area, rock formations, salmon fishing, Natives, and even the process of gold mining.
She didn’t mind that he got carried away with complex and intricate details. Even if she didn’t always understand what he was telling her, she loved that he was so intelligent and interesting.
He was attentive to her too, making sure she was warm and comfortable and had something to eat and drink. Even now, as he spoke with the captain in the pilothouse, he was watching her in that keen way that told her he was attuned to her every need.
He’d proven himself again today to be a good and honorable man, not only toward Augusta but also toward Sage, treating her with the utmost of respect. In fact, he was so gentlemanly that at times she almost wished he would cast aside all reason and manners and just pull her back into his arms. But he’d kept a respectable distance and hadn’t touched her, except when he’d assisted her now and then.
They hadn’t discussed the kiss again. And they hadn’t discussed the nature of their relationship—or lack thereof—either. A part of her wanted to push him to discover why he’d kissed her and what it meant, but she didn’t want to upset the peace that had settled between them.
He ducked out of the pilothouse and crossed the promenade toward her. The light gray of his suit and the white shirt contrasted with his dark hair, lending him a shadowed, haunted look, especially with the dark blue evening hues surrounding him.
As he drew near, he lifted his hat and combed his fingers through his hair. He’d neglected to shave again today—hadn’t made the time with their haste in searching for Augusta. Now the scruff on his face was more defined, making him all the more appealing. So much so that a strange sizzle of heat burned through her abdomen, followed by the overwhelming urge to cup both scruffy cheeks and press her lips to his.
He had such a fine mouth, such firm lips, such perfect teeth.
Oh dear heavens. Why did he have to be so attractive? Resisting him would be easier if her body didn’t react so strongly every time he was near.
He halted a foot from her, regarding her with his usual seriousness.
“We have just a couple of minutes left before we arrive in Centreville.” He studied her face, seeming to take her in as much as she was taking him in.
Their focus on each other didn’t mean anything. It was just that they were the only two around—except for the captain. At one point they’d passed by a group of Natives fishing from their canoes. They’d also seen men on a sandbar who’d waved as they’d passed. But otherwise they’d been alone. Regardless, she had to stop looking at him so much.
Ahead on the shore, a whole herd of deer—or perhaps elk—grazed in an open field not far from the riverbank. Some had lifted their heads and were peering back with wide eyes, their ears flickering. “Look.” She pointed in their direction. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
Jackson followed her gaze and nodded. Although he’d been living in the New World for the past eight to nine years, he’d told her he never tired of seeing the beauty and that he never would. He made no secret of the fact that he planned to remain in the colony for the rest of his life and had no aspirations to return to England to be with his father and mother.
As with other times when he mentioned his parents, Sage hadn’t wanted to pry into the past issues. But she also longed to know more about him. In fact, there were times when she wanted to know everything about him.
Jackson leaned against the railing. “I regret I’ve put you into an awkward situation.”
“I don’t find it awkward.” She’d actually had a lovely afternoon. If she hadn’t been worried about Augusta, she would have enjoyed it even more.
Jackson cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I truly have made our situation awkward and did not realize my mistake until too late.”
At the distress in his tone, she shifted and gave him her full attention. “What mistake?”
He blew out a breath. “I didn’t realize the captain…well, he assumed that we are…he still believes you and I are…married.”
“Oh.” The same heat from moments ago swirled inside her. “We can set him straight and let him know I’m your servant.”
“We shan’t do that, Sage. Because you are not my servant.”
“Then we’ll let him know I’m your sister’s servant.”
“Afraid not. We shan’t do that either.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Not entirely, and we both know it.” He didn’t meet her gaze, but something about the way his jaw flexed told her he was serious.
She supposed she always had been more of a companion to Augusta than servant.
“The truth is”—Jackson blew out another breath, more exasperated than the last—“I should have realized how inappropriate our traveling together alone and unchaperoned would be.”
“We’re not alone.” She nodded toward the pilothouse. “We’ve been sitting in sight of the captain all day.”
“We are still taking this trip alone, which is unsuitable for a single man and single woman. If I admit to the captain—or anyone in Centreville—that we aren’t married, then I shall likely tarnish your reputation.”
“We took the trip to Salt Spring Island, and no one thought anything of it.”
“That was to visit your family. Your sister and Caleb were our chaperones, and we weren’t alone there. But here, we shall be alone for most of the voyage with no one to oversee us.”
She hadn’t really thought about the ramifications of traveling with Jackson. But was he right? Would people think the worst? And by worst, would everyone assume she was Jackson’s kept woman, his mistress, a lover?
Mortification rushed through her. Rumors would certainly spread and hurt not only her reputation but also Jackson’s, possibly even Augusta’s. With such a scandal, the dear woman would be left with no choice but to terminate Sage from her position as lady’s maid.
“When the captain made a comment about us being married,” Jackson continued softly, “that’s why I didn’t correct him.”
“I see.”
The steamboat veered toward the shore where a wharf and a warehouse stood, both containing stacks of corded wood. Several weathered gray clapboard establishments faced the river, their windows shining with welcome warmth and light. A couple of simple log cabins sat a distance back, along with a barn and corral. Stumps littered the cleared area where tents were propped up and a cluster of men congregated around a campfire.
“This is Centreville?” It was much smaller than she’d anticipated.
“This is it, primarily a place for steamboats to refuel.”
This was the wilderness of British Columbia, a place as far from and as unlike Manchester as any place on earth. At least she had Jackson by her side…as her pretend husband.
“So,” she said, “do you think it’s best for the duration of our trip that we carry through with the pretense of being man and wife?”
He hesitated. “If you’re not agreeable to it, I shall set the record straight with the captain and do my best to uphold your reputation in spite of the unfortunate circumstances.”
What else could they do? She honestly didn’t know. “I never like to speak falsehoods, and I would hate to do so now.”
“I respect that.” He sighed and then was quiet as the steamboat whistle blasted in the quiet, alerting those on shore of its approach.
If the captain already had assumed they were together, then most people would, and how would they be able to explain to everyone the nature of their relationship without casting doubt onto both of them?
After all the gossip Jackson had already experienced as a result of the bridge collapse and because of his failed engagement, she couldn’t subject him to more gossip about having an illicit affair with her.
The only thing to do was let people believe they were married. “What if we refrain from outright lying about our relationship but just neglect to correct wrong assumptions?” It would still be deceptive, but was it the lesser of two evils?
His expression was grave. “I don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”
“It will be an awkward situation either way, but more damaging if people think I’m your mistress instead of your wife.”
“That was precisely my conclusion.”
“Then we’ll be married for a day or two. It won’t be long. And when we return to Victoria, no one needs to know, right?”
Again, he hesitated. “Let us hope so.”
His answer wasn’t reassuring. “Is there a chance your friends and acquaintances in Victoria might hear of our pretend marriage?”
“Anything is possible.”
“Is it likely?”
“If by chance any acquaintances of mine spot us together, I shall privately explain the situation in more detail and hopefully curtail any problems.”
It seemed like a good plan. “This shouldn’t be too difficult. Let’s pray we find Augusta quickly, and then she can act as our chaperone on the return trip.”
The steamer was nearing the wharf, and a dock worker had come out of the nearby warehouse and was standing ready to secure the Widower . Within minutes the boat came to a standstill, the landing stage was lowered, and Jackson carried both of their bags from the steamer, not intending to spend the night on the steamer since it had no private cabins.
Among the scant buildings that made up the town, Sage didn’t see any that looked like a hotel or inn, and she couldn’t imagine setting up a tent and camping.
She followed Jackson to the closest building, a simple two-story structure that had a wooden sign extending from above the door that read The Golden Acre . As Jackson opened the door and waved her inside, the waft of roasting game and herbs awoke the gnawing inside her stomach. After having eaten very little all day, she was ready for a meal.
A scattering of men with mugs of ale sat at the plank tables that were crowded together in the front room. Low lantern light filtered over the dark paneling, highlighting elk antlers on one wall, a stuffed raccoon on another, and an owl on the opposite.
The conversations around the dining room puttered to a stop, and all eyes turned their direction. The faces staring at them were worn and grizzled and filled with lots of facial hair, reminding her of how Jackson had looked when she’d first arrived. The expressions were mostly curious and thankfully not hostile.
“Good evening,” Jackson said with a glance toward the far door that seemed to lead to a kitchen. “May I speak with the owner of this establishment, please?”
“What fer?” called a fellow at the farthest table. Although his skin was white, his brown hair was slicked back into a long braid in a fashion similar to the Natives. He had a bright neckerchief rolled up and tied around his head, and he wore an equally colorful beaded necklace.
Jackson gave the fellow a nod. “I would like to rent a room for the night.”
“Sorry.” The fellow stood, revealing leather buckskin trousers of some kind. “Got nothing available.”
“Free up a room.” Jackson didn’t appear to be taken aback by the fellow’s unfriendliness. Instead, he dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a leather pouch that clinked with coins. “I shall make the effort worth your while.”
Every eye in the room now centered upon the bag.
Jackson also swept back one side of his coat to reveal the handle of his pistol—a pistol Sage hadn’t realized he carried.
“How worthwhile?” The fellow with the braid was looking at the bag too.
“Very.” Jackson spoke the one word with a curtness and authority that no one could ignore. He was leaving little doubt about how powerful and wealthy and formidable he was.
The fellow surveyed Jackson for a moment then shifted to look at Sage. As his eyes rounded, he gave a low whistle of appreciation. “You got a fine-looking woman?—”
“She’s my wife.” Jackson spat the word with enough venom to make the man take a rapid step back. “Nobody better look at her except for me.”
Sage guessed Jackson was simply doing his best to protect her, but all it had taken was one interaction for him to spew the falsehood about them being married. Even though she didn’t like that they were getting more tangled into the lie, she couldn’t deny how much she liked Jackson’s possessiveness, as if he was claiming her and didn’t intend to give her up. That was a wild dream, wasn’t it?
“Do you comprehend?” Jackson’s gaze was as hard as steel as he surveyed the men. Gazes dropped away under his severity.
“You newly married?” the fellow with the braid asked without looking at Sage.
“Yes. Today.”
“I could tell.” The fellow cracked a grin, one that revealed discolored teeth.
Jackson ignored the comment and set down their bags near a narrow set of stairs. Then he slipped an arm around Sage, gently resting his hand on her back while he addressed the fellow again. “If you’ll be so kind as to provide us with a meal, we shall partake of it while you ready our room.”
Maybe he wasn’t being possessive and was merely trying to scare the fellows away from making advances toward her. As usual, she had to be careful about reading more into Jackson’s actions.
“Course. Sit right here.” It was amazing what the promise of money could accomplish. Gone was the antagonism. Instead, the fellow—clearly the proprietor—shooed at the other men who were still sitting at his table. They rose from their spots and began to make their way to other tables while the proprietor hastily finished clearing theirs.
Jackson guided her to the table. Even after they were both seated across from each other, she could feel everyone discreetly watching them. Only after the proprietor disappeared into the kitchen with his arms and hands full of dishes did the others in the room resume their conversations, although in much quieter tones, as if they didn’t want to miss out on anything she and Jackson might say.
“Are you all right?” Jackson murmured, shooting a glare at one of the men at the table next to theirs who was still staring.
“I’m faring well enough.” The option of pretending to be married was looking better with every passing moment. Not only would it keep rumors at bay, but hopefully it would squelch unwanted attention. She just prayed all the more that Augusta would be safe.
Jackson had tucked his money bag back out of sight, but his hand still rested on his revolver. Although he was bookish and intelligent and scientific, he also had an air of danger about him, one that he’d no doubt fostered during his years of living in this uncivilized land.
The proprietor—who introduced himself as Rawhide Ralph—brought them plates filled with a simple fare of roasted hare along with a surprisingly delicious dish of potatoes with herbs. The bread was thick and tasty too, and by the time she finished, she was grateful for the full stomach—something she didn’t take for granted, not after the hunger she’d experienced in Manchester.
As she pushed away from the table and stood, everyone in the establishment quieted again. Rawhide Ralph, with their luggage in hand, started up the steps. “This way.”
Jackson scowled around the room again as he lightly rested a hand on Sage’s back and guided her toward the stairs.
“Had my woman tidy up the room,” Rawhide Ralph was saying as he tromped loudly on the simple plank stairway. “Ain’t fancy and the bed ain’t big, but it’ll be real nice for your wedding night.”
At the insinuation that she and Jackson would be engaging in marital intimacies, fresh mortification shot through Sage, and she stumbled.
Jackson drew her closer, likely in an effort to steady her steps. But as her body connected with his, all she could think about was the fact that she would be sharing a room with the most attractive man she’d ever met.