Gold Fever Read Online Free PDF Page A

probably let you out of paying what you owe her, and off you can go. Now don’t that sound better than dealing with the redcoats and the white man’s courts?”
    Mary hesitated and looked up the street at the unsmiling woman standing alone. Sterling feared she was about to give in, to take her bundle from Mr. Mann, mumble goodbye to Angus, and return to her miserable dwelling and whatever despair had resulted in her wearing Fiona MacGillivray’s cast-offs.
    â€œI’d like to go with Angus,” Mary said. Her voice was soft, but it didn’t waver. She lifted her head and looked the man in the face. “Please, get out of our way, Mr. Black.”
    â€œYou think your word will stand up in court against a white woman’s, Mary? You’re a fool.”
    â€œYou’re full of nonsense,” Angus shouted. The boy had remained silent as long as he could. “Mary’s word’s as good as anyone’s in a proper Canadian court. Isn’t that right, Constable Sterling? And anyway,” he continued without waiting for an answer (the honesty of which Sterling would have been reluctant to affirm), “if Mary owes Mrs. Leblanc some money, she can pay it out of her wages without living here.”
    â€œI don’t want any trouble,” Mary said. “You’re free to come and go as you like without worrying if it causes some folks trouble or not,” Sterling said. “The North-West Mounted Police will see to that. Shall we go?”
    â€œYes, sir,” she said. She lifted her head high and patted Angus’s hand.
    â€œYou’ll regret it, stupid squaw,” Mr. Black said. His partner spat into the street, barely missing Mary’s feet.
    â€œTake Mary and Angus to the Savoy, Mr. Mann,” Sterling said. “I want a word with Mrs. Leblanc. I’ll make sure those two don’t follow you.”
    Joey LeBlanc remained on the other side of the street as she watched Angus, Mary, and Mr. Mann disappear around the corner. A flicker of anger moved behind her small black eyes before she recovered her composure and extinguished it. Her face returned to its customary empty expression. It was rumoured in this town of a thousand rumours that there had once been a Mr. Leblanc, but Joey had knifed him in St. Louis for doing irreparable damage to a piece of merchandise belonging to the family business, so to speak. Sterling questioned the veracity of the story but not that Joey was perfectly capable of it. He crossed the street while keeping one eye on the two toughs, although neither of them seemed inclined to follow Mary or indeed to have any idea of what to do now, without their boss issuing an order.
    â€œLovely evening, Constable,” Joey LeBlanc said, gathering her shawl around her shoulders
    â€œIt is, and I’m sure it’ll stay that way, Mrs. Leblanc, quiet and peaceful.”
    â€œThat chit of a squaw ’as humiliated me in front of my employees and my customers.” Leblanc’s accent held strong memory of Montreal French. She spoke in an even tone, as if they were discussing the weather. “I don’t care for that.”
    â€œThe North-West Mounted Police don’t give a damn what you care for, Mrs. LeBlanc. As long as you keep it to yourself.”
    â€œReally, Constable, such language. But perhaps that is why a promising, but not-so-young, fellow such as yourself remains only a constable?”
    The barb struck home, and Sterling could tell by the expression on the whore-mistress’s face that she knew it had.
    â€œYou and your friends,” he glanced at the two hired toughs, “are to leave Mary alone.”
    â€œ Mais, monsieur, she owes me money.” LeBlanc shrugged and held out her arms. “What is a poor widow to do to get justice?”
    â€œTake it before a judge, madam. But if any harm comes to Mary, I’ll know where to come looking.”
    â€œâ€™arm Mary? Who would do such a