09 June 2025
‘A gut-punching mystery that vibrantly captures the savagery of the Alaskan frontier’ – ANNA BAILEY
‘Lewis flawlessly recreates the savage beauty of the wilds. Bold and brilliant’ – VASEEM KHAN
‘Gives a voice to the women, whose near-forgotten life stories glisten with hidden gold’ – JANICE HALLETT
Gold fever has taken him. I believe he means to kill me…
Canada, 1898. The gold rush is on in the frozen wilderness of the Yukon. Fortunes are made as quickly as they’re lost, and Dawson City has become a lawless settlement.
In its midst, three women are trying to survive on the edge of civilisation. Journalist Kate has travelled hundreds of miles after receiving a letter from her sister, who fears that her husband will kill her. Martha’s hotel and livelihood are under threat from the local strongman, who is set on buying up the town. And down by the river, where gold shimmers from between the rocks, Ellen feels her future slip away as her husband fails to find the fortune they risked so much to seek.
When a woman is murdered, Kate, Martha and Ellen find their lives, fates and fortunes intertwined. But to unmask her killer they must navigate a desperate land run by dangerous men who will do anything for a glimpse of gold…
‘We’ll leave within the hour,’ Fallon said.
I went cold inside. Within the hour. So little time to prepare and, I supposed, so little time to fret. I unpacked my gear from our boat and hauled it into the other. The time slipped away and it seemed like only minutes passed when Fallon called for me to join them.
Biddy took my hand. ‘Be careful, you hear? People die in that water. Don’t be one of them.’
‘I won’t. Thank you, Biddy, Walter, for everything.’
Walter clapped his hand on my arm and nodded. He scratched Yukon’s head as a fond goodbye and I hugged them both. That was enough. No sense lingering.
Then I was away, into Fallon’s boat. The pilot, a man named Jack, sat in the middle, oar in each hand. Once out of the quiet stretch of water, we entered the treacherous White Horse Rapids. The river grabbed us and hurled us down the canyon. It roared, drowning out all other sound and thought but this. We were shot forward so fast my neck whipped backwards. I felt I was lifting, the boat rushing from under me. I held on tighter to the rail and tighter still to Yukon. The prow of the boat rose and dropped, smacking into the water with great slaps and explosions of icy spray. My head hit the side of the boat and stars filled my eyes, but I was too exhilarated to feel pain.
We slowed, the pilot puffing, red-faced, with the effort of steering through this carnage. I thought we were past it, but he cried out, ‘Brace yourselves!’
And we plunged into the fray again. The waters foamed, seething, boiling, crashing against the canyon walls, against us, threatening to flip the boat. I never enjoyed anything as much in my life!
The pilot held course and spun us around a jagged rock, turned us into a crushing wave as tall as me, and out again. Water lashed against the prow, filling the boat, soaking us. Then we were shot out into calm water and the ride was over, leaving only the all-consuming desire to do it all again.
