At the Rainbow's End by Jo Ann Ferguson

and stumbled on in his wake.
    When the sun dipped toward the horizon, he turned inland from the river and into the woods. When they were at least a quarter mile from the river he finally stopped.
    â€œTired?”
    She almost laughed at his question, but saw he meant it seriously. He was not showing any strain from their rough journey. She guessed his time of working on the river had strengthened him. She doubted she would ever gain such stamina.
    â€œVery,” she replied.
    â€œSit down. We will stop here. We have come nearly seven miles. After supper, you can rest a while. Tomorrow we will arrive at the cabin early enough so I can do some work.”
    He built a fire in a pit which he dug out of the thin layer of thawed earth and lined with stones. When she was about to remove the netting from around her hat, he cautioned her to leave it in place. Within minutes he had water boiling in a small pot over the fire and was warming some biscuits and sidemeat in another pan.
    Samantha gratefully accepted the cup of steaming liquid and the plate of unappetizing food. She raised the mosquito netting up over her hat to take a sip of coffee, wondering if she would ever become acccustomed to the long hours of sunlight. They would rest in this twilight before continuing on the silent trip southeast along Bonanza Creek. In the distance, she could hear men talking to each other as they worked in the creek, frantically searching for elusive gold.
    â€œThis is good,” she said to break the silence.
    â€œThank you.” He could not hide his pleasure at her compliment. “I’m not a very competent cook, but I have learned to like my own cooking. Perhaps you will make us a good dinner tomorrow night. We will arrive at the claim in plenty of time for preparations.”
    She lowered her eyes. She could not imagine continuing on. Her legs ached from her long hours at the laundry tub today, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep. She slapped away a mosquito and batted at another whining near her ear.
    â€œYou’ll get used to them,” he said as he noted her motion.
    â€œReally?”
    He smiled for the first time since they had met in the yard by Mrs. Kellogg’s house. “Maybe not. I can’t get used to them myself. They seem far more determined and vicious than the ones we had back in Pennsylvania.”
    â€œPennsylvania?” she asked in sudden confusion. “I thought you were from Virginia.”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter.” He poured the last of his coffee on the ground. “Do you want to sleep?”
    Disconcerted by his strange words, she nodded. He pulled a blanket from his pack and spread it on the ground. When he motioned for her to lie down, she felt uneasy. She had promised to marry Joel Houseman, but they had not paused at a pastor’s house. Only now did she think of how they would be living together on their small claim. Again unsure of how to approach him and relieve the distress in her heart, she said nothing.
    She did not sleep immediately, although she closed her eyes. The unnatural twilight and the constant whir of mosquitoes kept her awake. Cold sifted up from the ground, which was permanently frozen, only inches below her. Wind moved the treetops.
    When she felt Mr. Houseman move close to her, she stiffened. When she realized that he intended to stay awake and keep guard on their supplies, she allowed herself to relax.
    She felt his eyes on her. Her senses honed by her time in Dawson, she could tell he regarded her possessively. She wondered why he had not even taken her hand. Mr. Munroe had greeted Gwen with unbridled enthusiasm. Joel acted like a polite stranger.
    As she drifted away into a fatigued sleep, she smiled. They were strangers. If she gave them time to find the love they had professed in their letters, her dreams might come to life.
    A gentle voice called near Samantha’s ear, “Miss Perry? Miss Perry, it’s time for