Hope In Cripple Creek

by Sara R. Turnquist

  An eyebrow quirked, he said, “You look tired. Let me show you how to make a bottle for Susie and then you need to get yourself to bed.”

  “What about all those dishes?” Her voice sounded weak. Even she could hear it.

  He glanced over at the sink. “I’ll take care of them.”

  But she could hear in his voice that he was just as tired as she. With two sets of hands, the work would go quicker and get them both to bed at a more reasonable hour. So, she squared her shoulders and garnered what strength she could muster.

  “Come now, you made dinner. The least I can do is help with the dishes.”

  Opening his mouth, he appeared as if he might argue. But she moved over to the sink and started washing without waiting for his response. It wasn’t long before he joined her. Side by side they worked until the dinner dishes were washed, dried, and put way. Then Wyatt showed her how to assemble the bottle and encouraged her to turn in while he checked the barn and horses once more. It was her turn to concede.

  Katherine went through the motions of putting on her nightclothes, not giving it much thought. All she knew was the comfort of the bed and the warmth of the covers as she slipped between them. And then she was out.

  * * *

  The house was dark and still. Its inhabitants had long since given up consciousness to the sweet release of sleep. All, that is, except one. For the longest time, David lay in bed wide awake, holding his wife as she drifted off. She was precious to him. He promised to provide for her and their family, and never had that promise been threatened like it was now. After some time of not being able to sleep, he eased out of the bed and made his way into the family room, hoping to not disturb his wife’s restful night.

  David tried to shut his mind down but could not relax. What kind of effect would this strike have on his innocent family? Already it made him less the man he wanted to be for them. Picketing every day was not the job he signed up for, nor did it get him excited about going to work each day. Not that mining had done that either.

  And what of their finances? Their savings? How long would their money hold out? They had expected this strike to be over and done with by now. David had started feeling restless since the strike began. The longer it lasted, the harder it was to shake off the feelings of dread.

  There was the other option. He could always work at the ranch. That would be an honest job that wouldn’t involve negotiations, unions, or anything. But he couldn’t get over his desire to make it on his own. The thought of working for his father kept coming up, and he kept knocking it down, reassuring himself all this nonsense with the mines would get sorted out soon enough. Why should he eat from his father’s hand when he could earn his own living? At least that’s what he told himself.

  “David? What are you doing all alone in here?” Mary’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.

  He looked back at her, standing in the doorway to their room. “What? Oh, honey, you shouldn’t be up. I just . . . I couldn’t sleep.”

  “What’s the matter?” She came over to where he stood, putting her arms around him as he gazed out the window.

  “Nothing.” The last thing he wanted was to burden Mary with his problems.

  “Talk to me,” she pleaded with him. “Don’t keep it all inside.” She turned his face so he had to look into her eyes.

  A peace existed there he could find nowhere else. How could he protect that peace? He couldn’t.

  David decided to trust her with his thoughts. “My mind is on this strike.”

  Mary nodded, but remained silent.

  “I wonder how long it will go on. I . . . I wonder how long we can go on, with the way things are.” His eyes shifted toward the floor. He couldn’t look her in the eye anymore.

  Her soothing voice spoke then, not much more than a whisper. “You know, if you’ve had enough of it, your father would always have a place for you at the ranch.”

  David took a few steps away from her. How could she not understand?

  The hurt was evident in her features.

  He let out a long breath. “I’ve got to make my own way. Can’t you see that?”

  “I do, darling. I do,” she said, closing the gap between them again and cupping his face in her hands. “I just hate to see you worry so.”

  “It’s not your fault. I wish it was that easy, to go work for my father. All of this worry and striking and our troubles would go away. But . . . ” David hesitated, turning away from her to gaze out the window again. “It doesn’t feel right to just go work for my father. I would feel as if I can’t pull my own weight.”

  Mary reached up and hugged him from behind.

  He turned to face her again.

  As they held each other closer, she said, “I understand. We’ll do what we need to make it. And we’ll do it together.”

  “I love you,” David whispered.

  “I love you, too. Now let’s see if we can get some sleep.” Mary laced her fingers in his and pulled him toward the bedroom, but he held back.

  “Before we go, could we pray?”

  Mary smiled. “Of course.”

  * * *

  Katherine roused herself from sleep. Susie’s cries pierced through the peacefulness of the night. How long had it been since the last time she’d fed the tiny one? Surely she had just lain back down. Groggy and groaning, she pulled herself out of bed, rubbing her eyes to clear her sleep-blurred vision. Only a few moments passed before she stumbled over to the cradle and lifted the small screaming bundle. Noting the wet diaper, she did her best to soothe Susie’s protests while she put on a fresh cloth.

  A little more cognizant, Katherine turned toward the door. Could she make it to the kitchen without waking Wyatt and Jack? The silhouette of a masculine figure stood in her open doorway. Immediately on guard, she bit at her lip to keep from screaming. Wyatt. It was only Wyatt. She let out a long breath.

  “I’m sorry.” She shifted Susie in her arms, feeling out of place in naught but her nightclothes. “I tried to keep her quiet so she wouldn’t wake anyone. She’s just so impatient.” Katherine’s face warmed at the picture she was certain she made—hair disheveled, eyes rimmed with sleepiness.

  “What? Oh, no,” Wyatt said, rubbing sleep from his face. “I came to take her off your hands.”

  “What?” Did she hear him right?

  “You have school early in the morning. You’ve been up for one feeding already tonight. Let me take this one.” He stepped into the room.

  Why was he being so thoughtful? Hadn’t he shown her how to make the bottles so he wouldn’t be disturbed? Yet here he was, no more than two feet in front of her, arms outstretched, eyes sincere.

  So she handed Susie over to him, trying to maintain some appropriate distance between them. “Thank you. I moved the bottles to . . . ” she began.

  “I know where everything is,” he cut her off. “If not, I’ll find it. I want you to get some rest.”

  With that, he turned and walked toward the kitchen with the fussing Susie. And Katherine had nothing to do but to curl back under the covers and, out of respect for what Wyatt did for her, try to get back to sleep. It wasn’t as easy as she would have thought, with her mind replaying the scene that had just occurred. But after some moments of calm, she drifted into a peaceful sleep. Although her dreams for the remainder of that night would be filled with one Mr. Wyatt Sullivan.

  * * *

  The miners made their way to the mines again, David among them. He heard the complaints every day, but more and more the miners were silent. And he knew why. The daily grind of the strike wore thin on the men. They had been at it for a month and many of them were depleting their financial reserves. Just as David wondered what he was going to do if this strike didn’t end soon, those around him must have the same concerns.

  If he had nothing else, David could always ask his father for a job, though that was something he didn’t want to resort to. So, he, like his mining brethren, wanted to be able to see this thing th
rough.

  John Calderwood had continued to move among the men daily, encouraging them, standing with them, telling them they were doing the right thing and that the mine owners couldn’t hold out forever. When he spoke, it all sounded so good, so reasonable to David. And many began to believe the owners were nearing their breaking point. Calderwood’s words sounded so confident, so sure. But soon even his speeches, too, started to lose traction with the men.

  Just then they arrived at the mine with their signs. A few of them with the energy tried to rile the others up. It worked to some extent. But as the mine owners approached with their own mob, the miners stirred to action.

  Something different was in the air. Even David sensed it. For one, the mine owners arrived with a group of sheriff’s deputies and an air of confidence about them. One of the men walked straight to Calderwood and handed him some papers. David strained to hear what was being said.

  “We have an injunction to keep your striking miners from interfering with our mine operations,” the largest of the three owners, Hagerman, said.

  A hush fell over the crowd as Calderwood took a moment to read over the paper.

  “You’d best get your people to move out of the way, or we can have the deputies do it for you,” Hagerman continued.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Calderwood spoke up. “Just give me a few minutes here.”

  “You have two,” Hagerman said, chest filled to bursting as he rose to his full five feet and eight inches. He wasn’t all that intimidating next to Calderwood’s taller frame, but he seemed to think he presented quite the frightening display.

  “Men, we have to clear the way to the mine,” Calderwood said, his face a mask of neutrality. “Split the line to make a path.”

  David, along with the other miners around him, was confused, but they all did as they were instructed, some going right, some going left; creating an opening to the mine.

  Then a puffed up Hagerman led the line of deputies and strikebreakers down the path.

  Watching the strikebreakers walk by toward the mine devastated David. His heart dropped at the thought that their fight was over. They had lost. And he wasn’t the only one. The miners around him went through the motions of protesting the scabs, but they all knew this was trouble.

  * * *

  The next morning, Katherine found it difficult to leave the two children behind at her mother’s house. More so than she’d expected. Shouldn’t she be ready for some relief? But when she closed the door behind herself, she longed to rush back inside and gather Susie to herself for one last embrace. Katherine trusted her mother. That wasn’t the issue. Then what was it? Had she become so attached? And so quickly?

  But there was nothing for it. Katherine made her way to the school, duty-bound to teach for at least the remainder of her contract. And that’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? She’d never imagined herself being the kind of woman who enjoyed sitting around the house, minding the children, waiting for her husband to return. Certainly not waiting around for Wyatt like some lovesick wife. Never.

  Katherine left her horse and cart at the town livery and, cutting through the General Store’s alley, headed to the schoolhouse. Despite the additional things in her morning, getting the children ready and dropping them off, she would still arrive before her students. Yawning, Katherine was reminded of her difficulties rising that morning. But Susie made for the cutest little alarm, waking her just as the sun tipped over the horizon. They’d had several sweet moments together this morning during the first feeding of the day.

  And then Wyatt had joined them, dressed and ready. Was he always such an early riser? Relieving Katherine of her task, he insisted she prepare herself. By the time she washed her face, dressed, and pulled her hair up, Wyatt had Jack up and eating breakfast. How did he manage so much? Thanks to him, the morning went more smoothly than she could ever have hoped. Still, she longed for those hours of missed sleep.

  As she approached the schoolhouse, reaching for the door, she heard movement within. It concerned her. She doubted any student would go into the closed building without permission. If they arrived, they should have waited in the schoolyard.

  Katherine put her ear closer to the door. Sure enough, sounds of shuffling feet came from within. What should she do? Was she to confront some stranger in her schoolhouse? Perhaps a miner who had chosen to sleep there? Maybe someone dangerous? Her heart pounded in her ears. She should get Timothy, but that would be awkward. Could she run to town to get Wyatt? That seemed just as awkward.

  Taking a deep breath, she prayed for protection and opened the door.

  Timothy’s surprised brown eyes met hers.

  Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t make any words come out.

  “Katherine,” he said, setting a piece of chalk down. The blackboard was filled with sentences. A grammar assignment?

  “What?” Her voice squeaked as she pushed out the one word she could form.

  He straightened his black jacket, looking at the floor. “I didn’t . . . that is, I wasn’t expecting to see you this morning.”

  Katherine stared at him, unable to speak. Why wouldn’t she be here? She was the teacher, after all.

  Timothy met her eyes and a thick silence filled the room. After several moments, he spoke. “Mayor Jacobs came to visit me last night. He asked if I would teach the students for a couple of days until the town council has a chance to decide what to do.”

  Her brows furrowed. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. What was he talking about? Decide what to do? All of a sudden, she needed to be doing something with her hands. Glancing for an object to grab, anything as a refuge for her nervous fingers, her eyes darted this way and that. But there was nothing. So she clasped them in front of her stomach, which started to feel uneasy.

  “I . . . ” she cleared her throat. “I don’t understand.”

  Timothy’s brows shot up. “Katherine, you knew you wouldn’t be able to teach once you got married. That is simply not proper. And the fact that you now have children . . . ”

  Katherine’s knees turned to liquid. She leaned on a nearby student desk but found sliding into the chair more helpful. This had not occurred to her. How could it not? Married women weren’t allowed to be schoolteachers. In all their planning and rushing, she and Wyatt hadn’t considered it.

  And, knowing that this was only proper, she still felt it was wrong. What would happen to the students? Timothy couldn’t take on the schoolhouse and maintain his duties at the church for more than a few days. The town council must know that. She was the only qualified teacher within reach of this town, married or not. Surely, they had to think of the children and what was best for them.

  Timothy shifted his weight from one foot to another, drawing her attention.

  “I . . . ” She struggled for the right words. “I’ll be going.”

  Standing with slow movements, she stepped toward the schoolhouse door.

  “Katie, wait, it’s . . . ” Timothy called after her, but she ignored it.

  Now outside, she gained momentum as she stepped down the stairs. Then she all but ran across the schoolyard toward town, tears stinging her eyes.

  Never had she felt so unwanted.

  Chapter 10

  Two days.

  Two days had passed since Wyatt came home to discover that Katherine had been pushed out of her teaching position. It had taken much coaxing and maneuvering from him, but, in the end, she told him the whole story. And though it sounded as if Timothy was only following the direction of the mayor, Wyatt couldn’t help but suspect the reverend played a bigger part in all of this.

  When Wyatt inquired with Mayor Jacobs, he learned that the town council would meet to decide whether to allow Katherine to keep teaching, find another teacher, or suspend school for the remainder of the semester. Wyatt had not anticipated this. And he didn’t like it.

  All the more so because of the sadness in Katherine’s eyes when she relayed the story to him. Her obvious pai
n brought out an intense anger in him. And that baffled him as well. He wanted to protect her somehow, but he hadn’t been able to.

  That was about to change. Phillip Yerby let it slip earlier in the day that the town council would be meeting this evening at the church to discuss and vote on the situation. As it would seem, Wyatt missed the invitation. Or did he? While Mr. Yerby seemed surprised Wyatt did not know about it, Wyatt became more and more suspicious that he’d been kept in the dark on purpose.

  Nearing the church, he knew he would be the last to arrive. Nothing new there. But this meeting was about to take a drastic turn.

  Wyatt stepped to the door and, taking a deep breath, opened it. As the room became visible to him, the shocked faces of the other members of the town council and the confused townspeople appeared before him as well. Timothy recovered the quickest. His eyes narrowed.

  “Dr. Sullivan,” Mayor Jacobs said as he stood. “We, ah, weren’t expecting you.”

  “Weren’t you? I thought this was a town council meeting. And, last I checked, I’m a member of the town council.”

  “That’s true.” The mayor looked down at the table before meeting Wyatt’s eyes again. “But this matter we’re discussing. Well, it didn’t seem right you should be voting on it.”

  Wyatt’s jaw clenched. He didn’t trust himself to say anything.

  Mr. Hammond shook his head. “Let us hear him speak then.” He turned back toward Wyatt. “If that is why you have come.”

  Several in the congregation voiced similarly their desire to hear him speak.

  “It is.” Wyatt let a breath out through clenched teeth.

  Mayor Jacobs took his seat and watched Wyatt as he would any dangerous animal. They all did.

  Wyatt took several steps forward.

  “I don’t know how you suppose to find a suitable teacher in a matter of days. Is there some unmarried, childless woman in the town that I am unaware of who carries the kind of qualifications Katherine has?”