Hope In Cripple Creek

by Sara R. Turnquist

  Had he made the right decision? Deep down, he knew he had. There was still so much that needed to be said between them. Things that were unclear, muddied by their past.

  A tap on the window of the door drew his attention. The curtains blocked much of his view, but it was about time for Katherine and the children to come by for their dinner plans. A smile pulled at his features. Though things were a bit rough between them, he still relished every moment with her. Perhaps somehow he could help her understand what was going on in his heart.

  He gathered his medical bag and moved toward the door. But as he opened it, he came face-to-face with Betsy Callaway.

  “Betsy!” he said, taken aback. He glanced around her to see if he could spot Katherine or the wagon nearby. “How can I help you?”

  She pushed past him and into the clinic.

  “I have a little burn on my hand,” she said, holding out her arm toward him.

  She did seem to have her hand wrapped. He closed the door behind her, set down his things, and followed her to the exam table.

  Betsy hopped up with ease, keeping her hand out for him to unwrap.

  He did so carefully, not wanting to cause her burned flesh any discomfort. Once he had the cloth off, he saw what she was referring to—a slightly reddened patch of skin that might not even blister, the burn was so mild. But she was his patient and he would do his due diligence.

  “How did you incur this injury?”

  “Slaving over a hot stove,” she leaned toward him, smiling.

  “Of course,” he returned her smile. “Are you in any pain?”

  “Not at the moment,” she said, her voice low.

  “I have some salve I can give you to administer should you have any discomfort.” He moved across the room to his cabinet of medicines and pulled out a small canister. Bringing it back to the table, he held it out for her.

  “Would you mind, Doctor, showing me how to put it on?” Her face was tilted and he thought he saw her wink at him. Probably his imagination.

  “It’s quite simple.” He opened the canister and dipped two of his fingers in the salve. “Just get a little on your fingers like this . . . ” Then he held her hand in his while he rubbed the salve on the wound.

  She leaned in even more as if to watch him rub on the salve more clearly. Their faces were mere inches apart. “I see, Doctor. Ah, that feels better.”

  Wyatt’s face warmed a bit, and he began to feel uncomfortable with her closeness. He prepared to step away when she closed the distance between them and kissed him. So taken by surprise, he didn’t know how to respond at first. But he soon pulled away, having gathered his wits about him. And he took a full step back from her.

  “I am a married man,” was all he could think to say.

  “I know,” she said, tilting her face down, gazing at him through her eyelashes. “But it’s a sham marriage. Everyone knows that. You don’t love her.”

  Wyatt’s heart was racing. Was Betsy right? Her words felt wrong to him.

  “Look, Betsy, if I have done or said anything that led you on, I apologize, but I cannot be involved in this.”

  Betsy shrugged. “You’ll come around,” she said as she got down off of the table. “But I won’t wait forever.” She moved to leave the clinic.

  He picked up the small canister she had left behind. “You forgot your salve.”

  She looked back over her shoulder as she opened the door. “Don’t need it,” she said as she winked at him. Then she was gone.

  Wyatt stood rooted to the spot. Had he truly just fallen for Betsy’s scheme? How long had she been working him? And Katherine had seen it the whole time. Katherine!

  She should have been here by now. Did she see? He hoped not. Stepping outside the clinic, he saw a cart carrying a dark-haired woman, a young boy who looked like Jack, and a basket. It had to be Katherine! But where was she going? They were supposed to meet here. He closed the clinic doors, hopped on his horse, and went after her.

  * * *

  Katherine gathered Jack and Susie, setting them securely in the cart for the trip from her parents’ house to the clinic. Wyatt had suggested they eat in the boarding house café this evening and his timing couldn’t have been better. It had been a long week for her, and a night with someone else cooking and cleaning the dishes sounded like heaven.

  It wasn’t long before they pulled up to the clinic. Katherine hopped down, telling Jack to stay put. She need not unload the children, after all. A simple knock on the clinic door to summon Wyatt while she kept a careful eye on Jack and Susie would be all that was necessary.

  As she neared the clinic door, she caught sight of movement between the curtains. Her heart dropped. There, in the middle of the room, were Wyatt and Betsy . . . kissing. Katherine turned away.

  It all made sense. The other night when he pulled away . . . How could he want her if he was in love with someone like Betsy? She was beautiful and graceful and . . . everything I’m not. Katherine’s heart sank deeper into her stomach. What was she going to do? Stand out here with her and Wyatt’s children until his and Betsy’s romantic interlude was over? No, she couldn’t bear to see Wyatt right now.

  Though her vision blurred, she jumped back into the cart and encouraged the horse to go. Where to, she did not know. All that existed was this ache in her chest. And it was exploding.

  Moments later, she heard hoofbeats trailing behind her cart. Rapid. Closing in. It had to be Wyatt, but she didn’t stop. How could she face him?

  “Katherine!” she heard him call out for her. “Katherine!”

  He would catch up. It would behoove her to slow the cart. So she pulled on the reins and took the few seconds she had to wipe away her errant tears before Wyatt pulled up alongside the cart.

  “Katherine, where are you going?” came his breathless question.

  “The children are tired. I thought we might just go home.” She kept her eyes facing forward, avoiding his.

  “Home? Taking the scenic route?”

  Only then did she realize she was going in the opposite direction of Wyatt’s homestead. She looked down at her lap, but didn’t say anything.

  “We’ll have to feed everyone at home. So, why don’t we just head back into town and eat at the café as planned. They’ll get fed faster, I think.”

  Katherine wanted to refuse. But she couldn’t find any logical argument on which to base her reasoning. She knew he was right. So she nodded.

  “I could tie Rusty here to the back of the wagon and drive if you’d like,” he offered.

  “No, I’m quite fine, thank you,” she said before urging the cart’s horse forward, leaving Wyatt in her dust.

  What must he think of her actions? She was acting like a child. But the pain was real. And she felt raw and vulnerable. So, she had no choice but to harden herself. Only then did she stand a chance of making it through this dinner, this evening, this marriage.

  * * *

  Wyatt watched Katherine’s back as she walked down the hall. What was going on in that mind of hers? She had been quiet during dinner. Too quiet. Standoffish almost. How had she become more so since the other evening? Things had been awkward, yes. But hostile?

  She had not been that way for weeks. Since he had reminded her of the truth about Ellie Mae. Why did they break down walls just to build them up again? Was there any hope for the two of them? Was he willing to fight for it?

  He continued to stand in the hallway just outside of Jack’s room, waiting for her to finish putting Susie down. She did emerge moments later, but when her eyes met his, she let out a loud sigh and moved past him.

  “I don’t have time for this tonight.”

  Didn’t have time? She moved toward her bedroom, but he stopped her at the doorway, catching her arm to halt her. “Then make time.”

  Pulling against him to free her arm, she shot him a mean look. “Let me go, Wyatt.”

  “Not until you talk to me.” He stepped closer to her.

  She backed up,
hitting the doorframe with her hip. A grimace crossed over her features.

  “Why do you fight me so?” He softened his voice and gazed into her eyes.

  When she looked at him again, there was something different in her eyes. Sadness? Hurt? Why?

  “Please, Katie. Tell me.”

  She turned away from him, pulling her arm free from his loosened grasp, but she did not escape into the dark recesses of her room.

  He laid a hand on her shoulder, but she jerked away.

  The words were on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to ask if he’d hurt her. But he knew he had. That night after she’d been attacked . . . What had he been thinking? By the time he’d had the good sense to stop himself, the damage had been done.

  “I’m sorry, Katie. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You must understand, I . . . ”

  “Then why play games with me?” she shot at him over her shoulder.

  Katherine wasn’t wrong. From where she stood, it must look as though he led her on only to put her off.

  “That was never my intention. I . . . ”

  She spun on him then. “Never your intention? You married me. And then you played house with me. All the time you kept her on the side. Why? Why didn’t you just marry her to begin with? I don’t understand.” Katherine leaned her head back, looking up at the ceiling.

  What? Played house? Marry whom? He didn’t understand. Unless…unless she meant Betsy. Unless she had seen Betsy’s stolen kiss.

  Katherine straightened her head, but turned to look toward her room. Did she want to get away from him?

  “What did you see in the clinic?” He wanted her to say it. To confess it.

  “What does it matter?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at him.

  “How could you believe that? After all we’ve been through, you would think so lowly of me?”

  She shook her head, sniffling, as she turned her gaze back toward the darkness.

  “It was not what you think.”

  Her eyes were on his then. One eyebrow arched. She didn’t believe him.

  “Betsy came to the clinic. And then she kissed me.”

  Katherine did not look away. But her eyes did not soften.

  “I stopped it, Katie. Honest.”

  She looked at the floor then, examining the toes of her shoes.

  If she wasn’t going to believe him, maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe this was all for nothing. “If you don’t care, maybe I don’t either.”

  Her eyes met his again. But he turned away and moved toward the door. She started to say something, but it was cut off by the slamming of the door as he walked out into the night.

  * * *

  David marveled at how Junius J. Johnson worked the miners as if they were a military unit. As soon as they set up fortifications, Johnson had a commissary stocked and began drilling the miners in maneuvers. Clearly, the man was built for army life and treated the miners as if they were nothing more than a new unit under his command. And it worked.

  Their first victory had been to take the mine on Battle Mountain. They did so without any resistance as there was no one to fight. Still, they knew the mine owners and their army were due any day.

  Why hadn’t he gotten out of this mess when he’d had the chance? In those early days of the strike. He could have slipped out, anonymously for the most part, and joined his father’s ranch hands. Things would have been so much simpler. But here he was, away from his family, stuck in the miners’ encampment on Bull Hill in some kind of made up war.

  At that moment, Jonas rushed past him. “It’s happening!”

  “What’s happening?” David had no choice but to follow the small crowd of miners. Anxiety filled him, but he waited until he could see around the agitated, shifting bodies in front of him as he came to the edge of their lookout. His heart stopped. There, at the base of Bull Hill, a large contingency of deputies, over a hundred, marched toward the miner’s camp.

  Johnson’s voice called from somewhere behind them, barking out instructions. The men rushed to their lines.

  “We have a plan. Stand your ground,” Johnson commanded them.

  David only knew part of the plan. It had to do with the miners at the captured Strong mine. They had been given explosives. What for, he did not know.

  A loud boom sounded across the area. The miners hit the ground, covering their heads. David jerked his body in the direction of the sound in time to see the Strong mine’s shaft house hurled into the air. He didn’t have time to recover from his shock before the steam boiler blew. Had someone blasted it with dynamite? As David watched, wood, metal, and cable fell down upon the deputies, who, in turn, rushed toward the nearby rail station.

  The miners went wild with celebration of their newfound victory. Johnson continued to give orders, attempting to stay the men, but it became more than he could contain. All Johnson and David could do was look on as a group of miners ran into the town. Exchanging a look with Johnson, David wished he had the courage to assist in rounding up the crazed miners, but he held back, fearful for his own safety.

  He stood by as Cripple Creek became the playground of the miners. They broke into liquor warehouses and saloons. Eventually, shopkeepers were roused by the sounds of destruction and ran the miners out of their shops. The men then converged on the saloons.

  As the miners carried on with their drinking, they roared with excitement. Some of the men wanted to keep going and blow up all the mines in the region. Johnson, now present and in command again, was able to stop that action. But the wake of their rampage would be undeniable when people came into town the next day. This certainly wouldn’t help their cause.

  * * *

  Pounding on the door echoed in the house. It dragged Wyatt from a sound sleep. His first thought was to grab for his firearm just over the door. Lifting the weapon from its perch and ensuring it was loaded, he felt reassured by the cold metal against his palms. He moved into the great room to find Katherine wide-eyed and clearly scared at the prospect of who could be at the door at this hour. She seemed so vulnerable. The sight of her tugged at his heart. But then he remembered their exchange the evening before.

  “Go back to your room and shut the door,” Wyatt said, fighting the urge to reach out for her. Why must his body betray him so?

  She shook her head. “I’m staying with you.”

  He searched her sleep-drugged eyes for a moment. There was that fire, that determination that both frustrated and enticed him so. “All right, but stay behind me.”

  They moved toward the door.

  “Who is it?” Wyatt called out.

  “Jonas Anderson, sir. We need a doctor!”

  Was it safe to open the door? Would there be a posse on the other side? “Are you alone, Jonas?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He had no choice but to trust the man. Wyatt opened the door, his gun at the ready.

  As the door swung open and Jonas’s eyes set upon the firearm, he raised his hands. “Honest, Doc, it’s just me.”

  Wyatt glanced around Jonas and then lowered his gun. “What’s happened?”

  “Trouble. Come quick!” Jonas began to move back toward his horse.

  Wyatt did not move. Something about this situation didn’t sit well with him. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me exactly what is going on.”

  “Some of the miners . . . they were drunk, Doc,” he said as if it would excuse all bad behavior. “They stole a work train and went into Victor after some of the deputies we had on the run. And then a gun battle broke out. That’s all I know. We were sent for the docs in the nearby towns.”

  Wyatt nodded. He stepped over to the table, set his shotgun down, and grabbed his medical bag before following the man out onto the porch. “Lead the way, Mr. Anderson.”

  Katherine caught Wyatt’s arm as he passed by her.

  He turned and caught her eyes. They were still wide and glassy.

  When she spoke, her voice trembled. “Are you sure you shoul
d be going?”

  Was she concerned about him? Despite everything that had happened? That touched him. So much that he wanted to promise he would stay. But he had a job to do. “There are probably wounded men. Maybe even some dying. They need me.”

  “But . . . ” She hesitated. What was it she wasn’t saying?

  In a bold move, forgetting their earlier exchange, he cupped her face with his hand. “It will be all right.”

  The touch was briefer than he would have liked. And then he released her and went out into the night, following this miner into whatever remained of the confrontation. He would have given anything to remain with Katherine. To take her in his arms and kiss her the way he longed to and tell her he would never leave her again.

  What had she wanted to say? Why had she held back? There were always questions with her. And he was determined to find the answers.

  * * *

  How late was the hour? Night had fallen some hours before and still some of the miners were ravaging the town. Johnson proved almost useless in reining them in. The saloons were packed with drunken miners who then came up with ideas such as the one that led to the shoot-out, leaving two dead and two wounded. But they were lucky. It could have been, should have been, much worse.

  David had long since given up on any restful sleep. It had been too eventful, and with miners still out and about, it only promised to be more so. He wasn’t surprised when he heard hoofbeats approaching their campsite. Who would come to this rabble in the middle of the night like this? Would it be friend or foe? Helper or instigator?

  Lifting tired eyes to discern his fate, David attempted to make out the identity of the lone figure. As the rider neared, he saw that it was John Calderwood. Taking in the situation quicker than David could have imagined, Calderwood was enraged by what he found.

  “Help me round up the miners who are causing this violence,” he ordered.

  David and a few others obeyed, jumping on their horses and following Calderwood.

  As Calderwood went around to the saloon owners, he asked, perhaps more demanded, they close. The miners who retained some sense of calm about themselves aided in rounding up the out-of-control ones. They were brought before Calderwood, who looked upon them with a disgusted eye.