Free Gold Fever by Vicki Delany Page A

dear? We’ve come from visiting your lovely shop to thank you for your noble efforts, but your employer said you had left for the day.”
    â€œUh...” Angus said.
    â€œNow, now, young man, don’t say it was nothing. You were terribly quick to react.” She pulled her pencil and notebook out of her bag. “Your mother called you Angus. What’s your last name?”
    â€œI don’t want to be in the papers, ma’am,” Angus said. He meant it. His mother was particularly averse to having her exploits recorded, and Sterling had told him that a Mountie never sought glory for his own sake.
    â€œNonsense, all boys want to be famous.”
    â€œI’d rather not, ma’am.”
    â€œVery well, Angus will do. I am not a newspaper reporter. I am a book writer.”
    â€œBooks, ma’am?”
    Miss Witherspoon tucked her writing implements away and slipped one arm through Angus’s. “I am here in the Yukon to research a book I intend to write about the gold rush. People in California and New York are dying for news about this wonderful place. They want much more information than they get from a few newspaper accounts. I want to see everything, and meet everyone, and tell all about it in my book. Isn’t that exciting?”
    â€œYes, ma’am.” Miss Witherspoon had a contagious eagerness about her. When she talked about her project, her voice rose and her eyes glistened, and Angus couldn’t help but be caught up in her enthusiasm.
    â€œI was saying to Miss Forester that we must find ourselves a guide to this exciting town. Didn’t I say that, Euila?”
    â€œYes, you did, Martha,” Miss Forester said softly. She, for one, didn’t appear to be too caught up in Miss Witherspoon’s enthusiasm.
    â€œHow does two dollars a day sound?”
    Two dollars a day sounded great! Angus opened his mouth to say “yes”, but then he remembered he had responsibilities. Miss Witherspoon remembered also. “Your employer told me you work at the shop every morning. So you are free in the afternoons and on Sunday to show us around, isn’t that right?”
    â€œUh, would that be two dollars for the afternoon, or only one?”
    â€œTwo.”
    Ron and Dave wouldn’t care too much whether he showed up or not, and two dollars a day was as much as a man might make, more than a constable earned. And for only an afternoon’s work at that. “Sure,” he said.
    â€œWonderful!” Miss Witherspoon nodded. “Before we begin, I am simply starving. And so is Miss Forester, I am sure. What would be a nice place for afternoon tea?”
    â€œI don’t quite know about tea, ma’am. Maybe your hotel? Or the Regina Café serves good soup and light lunches, I’ve heard. I’ll show you where it is.”
    â€œYou will eat with us.”
    â€œUh, I don’t have any money.”
    â€œDid I not mention that all your expenses will be paid while you are in my employ? Come along, lead the way to the Regina Café.”
    The walk to the café took a long time, as Miss Witherspoon wanted to stop and look at everything then ask questions about everything she stopped to look at.
    She paused in front of the Monte Carlo. “Tonight I want to go to one of the dance halls. It is not at all a place for a respectable lady, so you’ll have to remain in the hotel, Euila. As I will be in my capacity as a writer, I’ll venture in. Will you accompany me, Angus?”
    â€œI’m sorry, Miss Witherspoon, but I’m not old enough to go inside. The police are strict about things like that. I can only go into the Savoy because my mother owns it.”
    â€œTell me about your mother. Such a gracious lady. So quick to help Miss Forester. She owns a dance hall? Most convenient. What would be a good time?”
    â€œThe dance hall opens at eight, although the bar and the gambling rooms are open all