by Fools Gold
Libby shielded her eyes too. “All that empty country,” she said. “It seems a waste to leave it uncultivated.”
“I don’t think much would grow there,” Gabe said. “It floods every winter, and it gets no rain all summer. All the Californios do is run cattle. They don’t attempt to grow things on those big ranches of theirs.”
“The Californios?”
“That’s what they call the Mexicans who originally settled this place. They have huge land grants up and down the valley, although I gather most of them have left their cattle for gold, which is more productive.”
Libby sighed. “I’d like to have a house in a place like this and feel that I was looking out over the edge of the world.”
“Too far from civilization for me,” Gabe said, laughing. “How would I make a living out here? I need life around me.” He jammed his hat more firmly onto his head against the evening breeze which swept in from the west. “You see, we have nothing in common,” he said. “It’s probably a good thing that we are forced to part. We’d soon get tired of each other.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Libby said. Then she made the mistake of looking at him. She bit her lip and turned away again.
“Do you want to stop here then?” Gabe asked. “No sense in pressing on until it’s dark.”
“Here looks fine to me,” Libby said. “We could spread out the saddle blankets under that big oak tree and sit and watch the sun set.”
“Your wish is my command,” Gabe said formally. He slipped from his horse and helped her down, leading the two horses up onto a mound crowned by an oak. Then he unsaddled them and tethered them to graze, placing the saddles side by side against the gnarled trunk of the oak.
“Comfortable?” Gabe asked when they were both sitting with the saddles as backrests.
Libby nodded. “As comfortable as I can be at this moment,” she said. “I’m sorry, Gabe. I shouldn’t have begged you to come with me. It was selfish and I had no right. . . .”
He reached across and took her hand, squeezing it but saying nothing. It was their first contact all day. As they watched, the sun became a ball of red fire and sank into the haze. The sky turned from pink to light blue to pearl. The trees faded to silhouettes. A brisk wind rose from the valley.
“I hope you haven’t made a mistake,” Gabe said.
“I hope so too,” Libby said, “but I have to go, don’t I?”
“I meant about sleeping out,” Gabe said. “It’s still only spring. I hope you won’t find it too cold.”
“I’ve got you to keep me warm,” Libby said. She shivered. “I want you to hold me, Gabe.”
He slipped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. She nestled her head against his shoulder, noting the way the soft cloth felt, the way he smelled, every detail about him, as if she were compiling a mental scrapbook to preserve the moment forever. For a long while neither of them spoke, then Libby said, slowly and deliberately, “I want to tell you something, Gabe. I want you to know that I have never loved another man the way I love you and that I will never love another man the way I love you. Whatever happens in the future, I want you to know that.”
“Then why go back to your husband?” Gabe asked softly. “This is not Boston, Libby. This is the Wild West. Nobody knows or cares here if a woman is divorced. Tell him the truth and ask him for a divorce. If he’s a decent man, he’ll let you go. God knows we’ve given him enough grounds. . . .”
Libby gave a shuddering sigh that went through her whole body. “I don’t know, Gabe,” she said. “I can’t decide anything until I see him again.”
“If we’re put on earth to be happy, Libby, why deny both of us our happiness?”
“I do love you, Gabe,” she said, “but sometimes duty has to come before happiness. I did make a vow, you know. I suspect many soldiers would be happier running away from a battle, but they stay because it’s their duty to stay.”
“Dammit, Libby, don’t start all this sanctimonious stuff with me,” Gabe said forcefully. “The man ran out on you. You don’t owe him anything. If you’d still been home, waiting for him all this time and hearing nothing, wouldn’t you have looked around and considered which of your male friends might make a suitable replacement? We don’t even know it’s him. We don’t even know if he’s holed up with a nice little Mexican bar girl.”
“Don’t,” Libby said, sitting up and pulling away from him. “Don’t be angry with me, Gabe. I’m really confused. I don’t know what I should do.”
“It’s very simple,” Gabe said. “We find the fellow and if it is Hugh, then you tell him that you’ve fallen in love with another man and you’re going to live with him in San Francisco. Simple as that.”
“I wish it were simple,” Libby said. “What if he takes the children back to Boston, as he has every right to do? If I go with you I have no legal rights to them at all.”
“I don’t know,” Gabe said, thumping his fist against the saddle in frustration. “It’s just that somehow it’s got to work out. I love you and you love me, Libby.” He took her face in his hands, looked at her long and hard, then brought his lips crushing down on hers. She cried out in pain, but she didn’t push him away. They fell back together onto the grass. This time there was none of the playful lovemaking of the night before. They came together with a desperate urgency that left them both gasping and clinging to each other, their hearts hammering.
“I can’t let you go,” Gabe murmured into her ear. “Promise me you’ll tell him, Libby.”
“I can’t promise until I’ve seen him,” she said, “but I promise I’ll do everything I can, because I don’t see how I can live without you either.”
He pulled the rug around them and they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
CHAPTER 25
BY THE MIDDLE of the next day they were descending the steep hill that led into Angel’s Camp. It proved to be a bustling community with several hotels and stores lining a main street with wooden sidewalks. Horses were tied at the rails and men came in and out with bags of gold and bundles of supplies.
“I was right about the southern mines producing better,” Gabe said. “They don’t get the snow down here so the rivers go down sooner.” He looked across at a large saloon at which the gambling tables were in operation, each with a beautiful Mexican girl as dealer. “Doesn’t look like a bad place to be, in fact.”
Libby said nothing. She was finding it hard enough to breathe.
Gabe slid from his horse. “You can wait here, if you like. I’ll go find out where he is.”
Libby nodded silently as Gabe strolled into the nearest bar. Soon he came out again and motioned across the street. “The Angel’s Hotel is across the street.” he said. He led the horses over to a new, balconied wooden building. “Not bad,” he said, looking at the lace curtains which decorated the windows and the carpet on the floor. “I can see he’s got taste.”
He reached up his arms to help Libby down from her horse. Slowly, he lowered her to the ground, then released her unwillingly. “I’ll stay here with the horses,” he said. “You can’t always trust people in places like this.”
She looked at him, wide-eyed, and nodded in understanding. Then she took a deep breath and walked toward the hotel. A pleasant older woman came out of a back room in response to Libby’s ringing the desk bell. “Can I help you?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron as if she had been caught in the middle of washing up.
“I understand you have an Englishman staying here,” she said.
“That’s right,” the woman said, her expression already becoming guarded.
“I think he might be my husband,” Libby said. “I came out to join him and I’ve not been able to find him. Do you know his name?”
The woman smiled. “They don’t go by names out here much,” she said. “Around here he’s known as Gentleman Jim, or at the hotel we just call him Jimmy. But if he’s your husband, you’d best come see for yourself.” She smoothed down her
apron. “He’s out back on the porch,” she said. “Through here, please.”
Libby followed her down a narrow hallway.
“I understand he’s hurt his leg?” she asked.
“Hurt his leg?” the woman said scornfully. “When they brought him in here, he was hanging between life and death. Been crushed in a cave-in, so they say. They didn’t discover him for a couple of days and he was in a bad way. No one expected him to live. Out of his head for a while he was there, not knowing where he was and a raging fever. Anyway, I took care of him and he hung on until the leg got gangrene in it. They thought they’d have to have it off, but the doctor we’ve got is wonderful skilled and they managed to save it. He’s walking again now with a cane. You’ll see for yourself.”
She opened a screened door onto a shaded porch that looked out over the stream and the valley. Wicker chairs were placed along it and one of them was occupied by a young man, his eyes closed as if asleep. His leg was still wrapped in bandages and propped on a stool. A newspaper was across his lap. His dark curls fell across his forehead. His face was deathly pale.
“There he is,” the landlady whispered. “Is that him?”
Libby stood in the doorway like a statue. “Yes,” she whispered back. “That’s him.”
She tiptoed across the wooden porch and knelt beside the sleeping man.
“Hugh?” she said softly, touching his hand which now seemed so slender and frail that it almost looked transparent.
The sleeping figure stirred and the dark eyes opened, focussed on Libby, blinked and tried to focus again. “Yes?” he asked. “What do you want?”
“Hugh, it’s me. It’s Libby,” she said.
“Libby?” he sounded confused. “Libby who?”
Libby looked up at the landlady who still stood in the doorway.
“The doctor said he lost his memory when he had brain fever,” she said.
Turmoil was raging inside Libby. One voice was whispering, “Get out while you can. He doesn’t even remember you. You’re free. You can go back to Gabe and say it wasn’t him and ride away forever!” While an answering voice insisted, equally forcefully, “You can’t leave him like this. You’re his wife. He needs you more than ever now.” And in Libby Grenville, nee Parsons, of an old Boston family, the voice of duty won out. She touched his hand again.
“Hugh, it’s Libby. Your wife. I’ve come to find you.”
Hugh’s brow creased as if he were thinking hard. Then he said, “Libby? My wife?” Then he shook his head. “My wife’s in Boston.”
Libby grabbed his shoulders impatiently. “Hugh, look at me. I’m Libby. I’m your wife. Don’t you know me?”
Slowly, his dark hollow eyes scanned her face. He frowned again and blinked several times. “Libby?” he asked, cautiously putting out a hand to touch her face. “Is it really you?”
“Yes, it’s me,” Libby said, laughing with pent-up emotion. “Don’t you know me, Hugh?”
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I know you. Libby! What are you doing here?” He shook his head as if he were trying to make sense of the unfathomable. “I dreamed about you so many times, when I was lying here and I thought I was going to die. I dreamed you were coming to rescue me.”
“And I was, Hugh,” she said. “I came all the way across the plains because I sensed that you’d need me. I’ve spent the whole winter searching.”
“And now you’ve found me again,” he said, laughing too. “It’s like a miracle, Libby. You mustn’t mind if I cry. I’m just so overwhelmed. I thought I’d never leave this place. I had nowhere to go. . . .”
“I’ve a cabin up north of here,” Libby said. “I’ve come to take you home.”
Tears began to run down Hugh’s cheeks. He wiped them away in embarrassment. “I don’t know what to say,” he said. “It’s a miracle. I thought I’d never see you again. I thought I’d die as a stupid, blundering failure and you’d be better off without me.”
“Don’t say that,” she said gently. “We’ll get you out of here and then we’ll concentrate on getting you well and strong.”
“That’s right,” he said. “I’ve got to get well and strong because now I’ve got reason to be well and strong. I’ve got to get back to Boston, to my little darlings. How are they, Libby?”
“They’re not in Boston. They’re here,” Libby said. “They’re back at the cabin waiting to see their papa.”
“They’re here? Eden and Bliss are here?” Hugh said. He covered his face with his hands. “It’s all too much for me . . . after so long.”
“Can you ride a horse, do you think?” Libby asked. “You can go get your things and then we can start for home.”
“I can do anything if you’re with me,” Hugh said. He lifted his leg off the stool, then struggled to stand upright. With effort, he started to walk down the porch, shrugging off her attempt to help him. But when he got to the doorway he looked back at Libby. “You won’t go away, will you?” he asked. “I can’t believe you’re real.”
Libby bit her lip. “I won’t go away,” she said evenly. “I’ll go tell the landlady.”
She watched Hugh making his way upstairs, one stair at a time, then she hurried out to the front of the hotel. Gabe was sitting on a bench in the shade, close to the two horses. He got to his feet as she came out, trying to read the news from her expression. He sensed the truth before she said anything by the way she walked with heavy, measured steps.
“It’s him?” he asked.
“It’s him.”
“And?”
“He’s very sick, Gabe,” she said quietly. “He nearly died. He still looks terrible. I can’t leave him like this. I have to take him home and take care of him.”
“I see.”
“No you don’t see,” she said angrily, grabbing his sleeve. “I feel like I’m being torn in two. I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t leave him here. Please understand. Please . . .”
“I’m trying to,” Gabe said flatly.
Her grip on his arm tightened. “If you really love me,” she said softly, “then please don’t make it harder on me than it already is. Would you please go now?”
“Very well,” he said. “Only this time it really is goodbye. I’m not going to appear again when you need me. I’ll go get my things from Hangtown and then I’m gone.”
“Where will you go?” she asked.
“Who knows? There are plenty of places for a gambler to make a fortune out here, hundreds of mining camps I haven’t been to yet. And then there’s San Francisco. They say that’s a city of sin.”
“I see.”
They stood looking at each other.
“I wish you every joy, Gabe Foster,” she said. “I hope things go well for you, wherever you are. I’ll never stop thinking about you, as long as I live.”
“Nor I you, Libby Grenville,” Gabe said. “I’m not going to kiss you goodbye. We already said our goodbyes last night.”
He untied his horse with a swift jerk at the reins and swung into the saddle. Then he spurred the horse into a gallop and disappeared down the main street in a cloud of yellow dust.
Libby waited until the dust had settled before she went back into the hotel. The landlady was at the front desk. “I’ll be taking him home right away,” Libby said.
The landlady nodded. “If you’d like to settle up what he owes me,” she said, pulling out the visitor book. “It’s four hundred and forty dollars, if I remember correctly.”
“Four hundred and forty!” Libby exclaimed in horror.
“He’s been here four months,” the woman said. “That’s a long time.”
“And he paid nothing at all?” Libby asked. “He came with no money?”
“Oh, he had gold on him when they found him,” the landlady said briskly. “But that all went in the doctor bills and the first weeks when he was delirious.”
Libby looked at the wall, hoping for inspiration. “Look,” she said at last. “I don’t have that sort of money. Can we wo
rk something out? Maybe I can pay you a little at a time?”
The landlady gave an embarrassed half smile, half shrug. “I’d like to help you out, but I don’t own this place anymore. I used to run this as a boarding house, but this fancy eastern gentleman made me a good offer and kept me here to run the place. He’s the one who’s done it up so fancy you wouldn’t recognize how it was. And I have my orders from him—nobody’s allowed to leave without paying their bill.”
“You mean Hugh can’t leave until he pays?”
“That’s what Mr. Rival said.”
“Sheldon Rival? He owns this hotel?”
“You know him?” the landlady asked. “They say he’s going to be the wealthiest man in the mines. He’s buying up hotels and gambling saloons in every town. But he’s a hard man.”
“I’m not leaving my husband here,” Libby said. “Do you know where I can find Mr. Rival right now? I’ll arrange to pay him somehow. Maybe he’ll give me some time if I explain things to him.”
“Maybe,” the woman said doubtfully. “I only know I have to follow his orders. If he tells you differently, then good luck to you. He was here a couple of days ago and then he was heading south, so I’d guess he was overseeing that new mine of his at Columbia.”
“How far away is that?” Libby asked.
The woman shrugged. “No more than fifteen, twenty miles, I’d say. Not easy miles, mind you, but I’d say you could be there and back by nightfall.”
“Then I’ll go,” Libby said. “Which is my husband’s room? I’ll tell him that I’ll be back for him by nightfall.”
Columbia was already a big, sprawling camp, set in a narrow valley among tall hills. The noise of machinery echoed from the steep rock walls above it as Libby rode into town, her dress plastered to her back with sweat. Sheldon Rival was standing on a rock, his cigar hanging, as usual, from one corner of his mouth, his hands stuck in his pockets. He watched a sweating group of men maneuver a length of metal rail into position. As Libby walked toward him, she felt the revulsion again for this man rise in her throat. She wished that he was seeing her on more equal terms for once. She was very aware that she looked tired, sweaty, and disheveled, while he looked immaculate and very prosperous. She was not used to riding and this second long ride made her legs feel as if they had turned to jelly.