Lindsay Buroker - Peacemaker

A breeze scuttled down Main Street, swattingat a newspaper page too mired in the mud to escape, though itrattled and whipped in a valiant effort to do so. Kali leanedagainst a support post on the covered boardwalk outside of the RCMPstation. A single whale-oil lantern burned on a desk inside, andthe voices of Cedar and a Mountie he had roused from sleep floatedthrough the open door. Cedar was relaying the pirates’ location, adescription of Sparwood, and trying to get a list of tribal womenliving in the city, something the Mounties apparently didn’t track.With so many new people flooding into Dawson each week, it must beimpossible to keep an eye on everybody.

Though midnight approached, raucous voicesand music filled the street. Candelabras and lanterns burned behindthe windows of many hotels, bit houses, and the popular Main StreetDancing Hall. Nearby, a man lay on his back, snoring, in the spotwhere he’d been thrown out for not being able to pay.

Kali leaned away from the post and peered upthe shadowy street. Electricity had not yet come to Dawson-indeed,electric lights were something she had only read about-and therewere no gas lamps at the intersections; but the northern sky wasnot entirely dark, and she could make out people stumbling out ofbit houses. She could also make out the Aurora Saloon sign, only afew buildings up the street.

Kali glanced back throughthe RCMP window, decided Cedar would be another fifteen minutes atleast, and left the post to stroll up the boardwalk. Giveneverything that was going on, wandering the streets alone at nightwas probably not a good idea, but she couldn’t very well go seeAgent Lockhart with the man he wanted to shoot at her side. It wasworth taking a risk if there was a chance she could convince him ofthe truth and get him off Cedar’s back. Besides, nobody was likelyto attack her, or try to kidnap her, in the middle of a crowdedsaloon. If someone did , she had two smoke nuts stuffed into her pocket, and an uglylittle pistol Cedar called a “man stopper” jammed into the front ofher overalls. He’d insisted she carry it around town. She wasn’tmuch for shooting people, but she could do it inself-defense.

“Sure, tell yourselfthings like that,” Kali muttered to herself. “Maybe it’ll make themtrue.”

Kali paused to adjust the cuff of heroveralls, making sure they hid the bulge in her sock-she still hadthe vial of flash gold tucked in there-then stepped over thesnoring man to push open the Aurora’s front door. She crinkled hernose at the stench of sweat and tobacco smoke, and she had to blinka few times to get her eyes used to the smoky haze that filled theair. One would never know how late it was, going by the amount ofactivity in the large main room.

Lively fiddle music bounced off of the darktimber walls. Stuffed elk, caribou, and moose heads were mountedeverywhere, and more than one set of antlers was being used for acoat rack. Men filled tables, most with chairs turned to watch awooden stage where bronze-skinned women danced in costumes thatwere about as close to traditional garb as root beer was to beer.The girls’ bellies showed as they wriggled about, flinging barefeet into the air. Men clapped and roared their appreciation witheach glimpse of flesh.

A sign propped up near the stage promisedthis was an “Authentic Injun Dance.” Kali snorted. The only timeshe’d seen people twist and gyrate that much had been when theywere flailing about on ice, trying to ward off an inevitablefall.

A drunken man staggering toward the doorwayspat at a copper spittoon. The black tobacco spittle missed Kali byinches and spattered onto the wall a good three feet above thereceptacle. It joined copious other stains darkening the pineboards.

Kali decided standing so close to the doorwasn’t wise and eased aside for the sot to pass. Here and there,gamblers worked tables, and she spotted Agent Lockhart withouttrouble. Three men sat with him in a back corner, each taking turnsrolling dice. Lockhart’s box of gambling goodies lay open on thetable. Kali wondered what kind of idiots would trust a man who hadhis own kit not to have loaded dice.

She weaved through the crowd, dodgingwayward elbows from men too busy to notice her and gropes from theones who did notice her. Some girls might be flattered at theattention, but she was wearing her coveralls and knew there wasn’tanything alluring about her. It was just that men outnumbered womentwenty to one, if not more, up here, so a lady need ever go to bedlonely if she preferred company.

Though Lockhart wore his bowler hat pulledlow on his brow while he swapped wagers with the men at the table,Kali felt his eyes upon her as she approached. He had probably beenwatching her since she walked through the door.

Kali stopped between two of the men at histable. “Mind if I play a round?”

She had no idea how to play dice games oreven if “a round” was the right term, but she figured she’d goalong with his gambler facade. If he was up in Dawson after morethan Cedar, he might not appreciate her breaking his cover in frontof these men.

“Women can’t gamble,” onefellow groused. “Go join the girls on stage, or keep somebody’sblankets warm at the hotel next door.”

“Are you sure you want tobe that insulting,” Kali asked, fishing in a pocket, “consideringI’m standing right behind you with-” she grabbed the first toolthat she felt and pulled it out, “-pliers in my hand?”

It wasn’t the most menacing tool in hercollection, but she held it up with what she hoped was an ominousexpression on her face.

“Pliers?” the man asked.“What’re you going to do with those? Now a Colt would bethreatening, but-”

Kali whipped her hand to the side andfastened the pliers about his ear. With the practiced ease of onewho has turned thousands of bolts, she issued a quick, efficienttwist. He cried out, fell out of his chair, and landed on his handsand knees. When he threw an arm up, trying to grab her, Kali simplytwisted harder. This drew another louder cry, one filled withcurses for her and all of her ancestors.

She released him, stepped back, out of hisreach, and raised the pliers as a warning to anyone else who mightbe thinking of giving her trouble. In particular, she eyed theother men at the table.

One smirked, turned the vacated chairoutward, and said, “This seat’s open, miss.”

Laughter from nearby tables drowned out thefiddle. Kali kept an eye on the man on the floor, figuring he mighthave retaliation in mind, but more than his ear was red, and heslunk off with his tail clenched between his legs.

Still holding the pliers aloft, Kali pinnedLockhart with a stare, wondering if he would give her a hard timetoo, but he merely extended a hand toward the empty seat. Thoughthe hat and the room’s dimness shadowed his eyes, they did notquite hide the glint of amusement there.

Kali slid into the warm seat. “How aboutsome poker?” she asked. She knew the rules to most versions ofthat.

“I was actually fixing totake a break,” Lockhart said.

The gambler to Kali’s right, a man who hadyet to say anything, stirred at this. He rapped his knuckles on thetable. “You need to sit right there a spell and give me a chance towin back my losses.”

Though people were still talking and musicwas still playing, Kali had no trouble hearing the soft click of ahammer being cocked beneath the table. It was Lockhart’s Colt, sheassumed; both of the other man’s hands were in sight.

Lockhart leveled a cold stare at thedissenter. “We’re done here, friend.”

The gambler’s eyes narrowed to slits, but hemust have heard the gun being readied, too, for he grumbledsomething and pushed away from the table. Back rigid, he stalkedout of the saloon.

The remaining man, the one who had offeredKali a seat, shrugged amiably and left as well.