Free Where Heaven Begins by Rosanne Bittner

moved away from the doorway. She couldn’t help peeking through a window, and her eyes widened at the sight of women dancing on a platform, lifting colorful ruffled skirts to show their legs.
    She turned away, feeling guilty for looking in the first place. Still, the sight made her wonder about Collette and her friends. She hoped Francine was all right.
    She shook away the thought and hurried on, facing the fact that for the time being she had to look out for herself and not worry about others, including Clint Brady. He’d said something to her yesterday about having to locate three horses he’d sent ahead. He’d been worried about someone making off with his horses, as he’d heard the animals were worth plenty in Skagway. Most men arrived here without them and had to pack their own gear over the passes, which meant constantly backtracking all the way over the passes as the gear often weighed hundreds, even thousands of pounds. Word was, many never even made it over the passes to begin with.
    Elizabeth had decided that would not be a problem forher, as all she intended to take were her bags. She would visit the sawmill and see if perhaps someone there could build her a sled that she could attach to her waist and use to pull her bags and however much food she would have to bring along. That would probably take whatever money she had left, but she certainly wouldn’t need any more money before reaching Dawson. Once she was with Peter, she’d be safe and never alone again. Whatever Peter did, wherever he went, she would stay with her brother. She couldn’t wait to see him.
    Yes, that’s what she would concentrate on. She would forget about those poor, lost women, forget about Clint Brady, forget about her own fear of the journey ahead. Collette and her friends were likely not at all concerned with what had happened to her, and Clint Brady had brushed her off like a pesky fly. Why should she care that the man was sick and lonely and wayward? Her attempted words of comfort had only angered him, and he obviously did not want her bothering him any more. So be it.
    She put her head down and charged forward, ignoring other people, watching her step as she walked down wooden steps, crossed in front of an alley, walked up more steps to the next block of boardwalk. She looked at every window she passed, and every other establishment seemed to be a saloon. In between were supply stores, attorneys’ offices, banks, a newspaper office and finally she came across a hotel. She had to climb even more steps to reach the entrance, and from that standpoint she could see another hotel, a blacksmith’s barn, more supply stores, a sign that read Boats, another that read Book Store, and afew restaurants. The words Saloon and Bank far outnumbered all others.
    Above some of the saloons were balconies upon which stood brightly dressed women, many of whom wore dresses cut so low that they barely covered the merchandise being advertised. She noticed one woman who wore only underclothes. She was laughing and waving at the throng of men in the street.
    The sight was difficult to believe. Now and again a supply wagon would splatter past, churning up the mud. She smelled the sweet scent of fresh-cut pine, and in the distance she could hear the grinding sounds of the sawmill that created the smell. She recalled someone on the Damsel saying something about Skagway being nothing but a couple of buildings just a year ago, then becoming a huge tent city almost overnight. Now most of the tents had become real buildings, and more building was continuing. The air rang with the pounding of hammers and the scraping of saws and was redolent with the smell of fresh lumber.
    Smoke rose into the air from a hundred sources, mostly from the stacks of the steamers at the shoreline and from wood-burning stoves inside most of the buildings. Elizabeth could not help thinking what rich men the suppliers must be, and those who made wood stoves and guns and shovels and