Not a dime. You already owe me one thousand two hundred dollars and fourteen cents. I'll forget the change, but I want the rest of it. Now." Melissa Logan stood just inside the door at Harper's Trading Company, a rough, two-story log building on Front Street. The combined smells of wood smoke, tanned hides, bacon, and raw log walls clung to the place. Holding two-month-old Jenny in her arms, she watched the tense exchange between her husband, Coy, and Dylan Harper. At the end of the counter, a friend of Harper's named Rafe Dubois regarded the proceedings with obvious bland amusement. Twelve hundred dollars . . . Melissa could hardly conceive of such a sum. Although prices in the Yukon were unbelievably high, she hadn't realized that Coy had acquired such a debt. And they had been in Dawson for only six weeks. It was plain that Coy had made the man angry. But, then, Coy had a genuine talent for making people angry, and he got mad at everyone else. He straightened his skinny length and adjusted his one suspender, clearly offended.
