A Treasure Concealed

by Tracie Peterson

  “I’m telling you it was. I know it was.” She looked at the doctor and then back at the marshal. A fleeting memory came to mind. “He blamed my father for killing his younger brother. It was when we lived in California.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Carver. I know that man pestered a lot of folks in Yogo, your family included. I know you figure he set the fire that killed your ma, and maybe he did. I never found anything to prove that, however. But this time you’re wrong. It wasn’t Davies.”

  “You’re wrong.” She shook her head harder than she meant to and nearly cried out at the pain. “It was Davies.”

  The marshal looked to the ground for a moment and then back to Emily. “It couldn’t have been Kirk Davies. I don’t know the fella all that well, but Davies was in my jail last night. I didn’t let him go until just after they showed up with you and your pa.”

  Emily felt as though the entire world had turned on its ear. Her stomach churned, and she was certain she couldn’t have heard right. “Davies was in your jail?”

  The marshal gave a brief nod. “He was. He was brawling yesterday and tore up one of the saloons. My deputy brought him in. I’m sorry, but it wasn’t him this time.”

  The nausea returned. “I think I’m going to be sick.” Emily clutched her stomach as the doctor reached down beside the bed and produced a bucket.

  “You might as well go, Marshal. If you would, please send Miss Ringgold back in.”

  He nodded, his gaze never leaving Emily. “I’m sure sorry, Miss Carver.”

  Caeden hated the painful jostling of the stage as it made its way along rutted roads to Utica. He hated even more being wedged against the window due to Singleton’s stocky frame taking up a good portion of the seat. Across from them, Bishop Arnold and Catherine sat along with an older woman who was bound for Lewistown. At least they all had seats inside. Caeden knew there were at least two men riding on top with the driver.

  When they’d first climbed into the stage, it appeared as though Singleton and Arnold would say nothing more about their venture. However, as the miles clicked by and boredom set in, the two men began discussing details about the mine. Caeden saw the older woman doze off. Her snoring left Singleton feeling safe enough to speak in detail about what Arnold could expect.

  Caeden had little desire to share in the conversation and closed his eyes. For most of the trip he pretended to sleep, grateful that the two men seemed quite happy to leave him out of their discussion.

  “I believe you can recoup your investment within a month’s time,” Singleton declared.

  “Truly?” Bishop Arnold replied. “That’s marvelous. What will be required?”

  “Well, after you purchase the claim from me,” Singleton began, “you’ll need to hire workers and supplies for those workers. You’ll need shovels, picks, and ore carts. Oh, and mules. You’ll need mules to haul the dirt and ore to where the water is so you can wash it.”

  “Wash the dirt? Why would anyone do that?” Arnold asked. “I thought gold mining consisted of breaking ore out of rock.”

  “There is, of course, that kind of mining—when a vein is found. We are very close to exposing that vein, but right now we are working the dirt and flushing out the bits of gold hidden in it. It’s not that difficult.” He smiled. “We can go over the details after you secure the claim. You’ll need someone you can trust to run the operation. Of course, winter is a difficult time to mine, but with the right people it can be done. These Montana folks are a hearty bunch, and I don’t think you’ll have trouble getting men who want to work.”

  Caeden listened to the man drone on and on. It was impossible to get comfortable, but he finally managed to doze at one point, and his thoughts were all about Emily. He was glad he’d been able to arrange for the freight of goods to leave ahead of his departure from Great Falls. It was possible he’d catch up to the shipment in Utica and could be there to instruct locals on the delivery. He didn’t want to be there when Emily and her father received the goods, so his thought was to delay the delivery in Utica until he’d gone.

  He’d lost track of the stage stops and changes of horses. All he knew was that from Great Falls to Utica the distance was nearly eighty miles. Eighty miles plus the eighteen to where Emily and her father lived. Nearly one hundred miles altogether. It might as well have been a thousand for all the time it was taking.

  At the halfway mark they stopped for the night. The place wasn’t much, but it was clean and the food decent. That night, Caeden fell asleep and dreamed of his encounter with Emily and how he would explain his heart and ask if she would wait for him to return. He could see her clothed in the new gown he’d bought her. The dusty rose would look beautiful with her dark eyes and hair. He’d even purchased her a parasol of the same color. He doubted Emily had ever had a parasol. Such a frivolous item wouldn’t have been considered important.

  The next morning, after a breakfast of watered-down oatmeal and bacon, they were once again on their way. Caeden almost felt sorry for Arnold. The man was so obviously uncomfortable. He’d already complained several times of his miseries in trying to sleep the night before. Not only that, but the food had also caused him great discomfort.

  Singleton apparently had wearied of the man’s complaints and had engaged the elderly Mrs. Dyson in a conversation about her family in Lewistown. It was to his droning voice, telling her about the time he’d spent in Lewistown years ago, that Caeden drifted off.

  “Caeden, wake up,” Catherine said, giving his arm a shake.

  He opened his eyes and moaned. Rubbing a knot in his neck, he straightened and looked around. He found himself alone with Catherine and the stage at a stop. “Where are we?”

  “I don’t know. Yet another change of teams. This stop, however, is offering food if you’re hungry. Father, Mr. Singleton, and Mrs. Dyson all went inside. I wondered if you wanted to join them. I don’t think I could keep anything down. This trip is rather jarring.”

  “I told you it was rough country.” Caeden looked out the coach window at the small house. He feared the meal would be as distasteful as their breakfast and decided against it. He figured he could get something better in Utica.

  “I knew it would be hard,” Catherine said, trying to shake the dust from her dark blue traveling suit. “I wasn’t the one who insisted on coming. I would have happily waited in Great Falls.”

  “I am going to get down and stretch.” He rubbed his neck again. “You should take a walk around as well. I’m sure there are facilities for freshening up.”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding. “I suppose you’re right.”

  Caeden opened the coach door and stepped down. The air had turned much colder. He glanced at the sky and saw a bank of clouds moving in from the south. “Looks like we may be in for snow or rain.” So far the weather had been good and the trip uncomplicated. If it started snowing, they could be delayed for days.

  He helped Catherine from the coach and offered her his arm. “I’m sure,” she said, taking hold of him, “Father will be pleased at this display of intimacy.”

  “Your father is a fool. There’s no gold in those mines. At least not the kind Singleton promises him. He’s going to put himself in further debt and have nothing to show for it. It will be his ruin.”

  Catherine looked quite alarmed. “Are you certain?”

  “I am. I know the area and have been studying the mineral potential for months. I just don’t foresee a large strike. I could be wrong, of course, but I don’t think I am.”

  She tightened her hold on his arm. “What can we do?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose once we get there and actually see the mines Singleton is offering, I can share my opinion, but when I gave it earlier no one actually cared. Besides that, if Singleton is the charlatan that I believe him to be, he will no doubt have made arrangements to ensure there is gold in the mine he wants to sell your father. He’ll probably go so far as to have actual nuggets lying around.”

  They reached the house, b
ut Catherine made no effort to move from Caeden’s side. “I don’t know what will become of our family if he buys the mine and nothing comes of it.” She gave a heavy sigh. “These have been such difficult times. He and Mother fight constantly over money. He’s sold off all but one carriage and three horses. He even sold some of Mother’s jewelry.”

  “I am sorry. I wired my uncle to look into the matter between your father and mine. I meant what I said. If I have proof of my father cheating yours, I will repay with interest.”

  She smiled and gave his arm a squeeze. “You are a good man, Caeden. One day you will make a good husband and father.”

  Her words stayed with him even after they were once again on their way. Emily had said something similar. Could he be a good husband and father? The only example he’d had was no good. Of course, he’d witnessed other men with their families, but his own was good at putting on a show in public. Caeden knew better than to believe that the person a man was in the midst of his peers was the same man in the privacy of his home.

  Doubts began to build, and Caeden found himself questioning his plans to ask Emily to wait for him. She had known life with a loving father. But Henry Carver was also a selfish man to drag his loved ones around in search of a dream that most likely would never come. Caeden had to allow that every man was flawed and full of self-interest. After all, he could claim no less for himself. However, he hated the idea of Emily going on day after day hoping and praying for her father to find the treasure he sought.

  But the sapphires could be quite valuable. And if they are, then Henry will have his fortune—his buried treasure.

  Caeden thought of his mother and her faith that Archibald Thibault could change. Right up until her last breath, she told Caeden he needed to have faith. But Caeden knew it was going to take more than faith to be the man he wanted to be. His anger and bitter heart had kept him closed off and unwilling to give of himself.

  God, I don’t know if I can change. I don’t know if I can let this hatred go.

  When he realized he was praying, it startled Caeden enough that he sat straight up on the coach seat.

  “Are you all right?”

  Caeden looked at Singleton. The man looked back at him with concern. Caeden nodded. “I’m fine.” He caught Catherine’s worried expression. Thankfully, Mrs. Dyson and Bishop Arnold had dozed off.

  Caeden settled back in his seat. “I’m quite fine. Just had some disquieting thoughts.”

  16

  Emily waited impatiently for news of her father. The county farm, or poorhouse as most called it, also served as a hospital to the indigent of the area. The people were kind, and the doctor seemed quite capable. At one point he had even called in a surgeon. The doctor assured her that her father was receiving the very best of care, but Emily found the wait almost unbearable.

  Of course, the doctor had great concern for her as well. When they’d first arrived, he had tried his best to put her to bed too, but Emily refused. She insisted instead that they allow her to sit outside the room where her father was being kept. That way should anything happen, good or bad, she would be there at his side. For the next twenty-four hours it seemed there was a constant parade of people in and out of her father’s room, but still the doctor would not allow her admission.

  Her head continued to throb, but for Emily that pain was nothing compared to the piercing ache in her heart. She had just lost her mother, and now her father lay near death. What would be left to her if he should die? There was no other family. Emily knew she could turn to Millie, but that would only be a temporary solution. There was no work to be had in Yogo City or Utica for that matter.

  The idea of work had crossed her mind more than once. What little she’d heard from the doctor made it clear that her father would be weeks, if not months, in bed. Emily knew she would have to find a way to provide for herself. She pulled Millie’s shawl close, wondering only momentarily what had happened to her own coat. For some reason she had been separated from it in Utica.

  “I wish you would go get some rest.”

  She looked up to find her father’s doctor studying her with an expression of concern. “Your father hasn’t even regained consciousness, and frankly that’s for the best at this point. He needs a time of absolute rest in order for the swelling to go down. You could use that time to get some rest yourself.”

  She stood and waited for the momentary dizziness to stop. “I appreciate your concern, but I want to see him.”

  The doctor nodded. “Very well. Come with me.”

  Emily followed him into the room where her father had been since they’d brought him in the night before. She thought for a moment that the doctor had been wrong and that her father was dead. He was so gray and still. She edged closer to the bed.

  “The surgery went well. I believe he will recover if we can prevent infection from setting in.”

  It was the first hopeful thing anyone had said. Emily looked to the doctor. “You believe he’ll live?”

  The older man smiled. “I am cautiously optimistic. That’s all I can be for now. Your father narrowly escaped death. I’m still not at all certain how he managed to make it this far. However, he seems to be made of stronger stuff than I gave him credit for.”

  Emily nodded. She felt the strain of her injury and the last twenty-four hours taking its toll. Just as her knees buckled, the doctor caught her around the waist.

  “You’re going to bed now. Doctor’s orders.”

  She didn’t argue.

  Waking up in a strange place was most disconcerting. For a moment, Emily couldn’t remember where she was or why. The large dormitory-style room was arranged in a neat and orderly fashion. She saw there were two other beds occupied, but several others were empty.

  She sat up and slid her legs over the edge of the bed. To her surprise she didn’t feel dizzy. Perhaps she was finally starting to heal. Emily allowed herself a moment and then tested her strength by standing. Her head hurt, but the pounding was gone and so too the cloudiness that kept her from being able to think clearly.

  She saw a woman at the end of the room. She was dressed in black with a starched white apron. Emily made her way to where the woman worked at cleaning off a tray.

  “How are you feeling, Miss Carver?”

  Emily was surprised that the woman knew her name. “I am better.”

  She smiled. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d sleep straight through another night.”

  “Another night?” Emily looked around her. “How long did I sleep?”

  “Probably not as long as the doctor would like.” The woman—older than Emily had first thought—smiled, revealing several holes where teeth should have been. “He tends to be strict when it comes to his patients.”

  Emily knew the only patient who really mattered was her father. “Can you tell me how to find my pa?” She figured if the woman knew her name, she would also know her father.

  “I’ll take you there. The doctor should be with him.” She put the tray aside and led Emily through the door and down the hall. There was no further exchange between them, and for this Emily was grateful. She didn’t want to talk about her condition or make small talk. She only wanted to know how her father was doing.

  The doctor glanced up when he heard the door open. He beamed Emily a smile. “Come and see who’s awake.”

  Emily saw that her father was looking at her with great concern. “Emmy?”

  “I’m here.” She rushed to his bedside. “Oh, Pa.” She shook her head at the sight of him lying there. “How are you feeling?”

  “Been better.” He looked at the doctor. “I ’spect he can tell you more than I can.”

  Emily turned to face the physician. “How is he?”

  “So far he’s doing well. There’s been only a slight fever, and the wound sites look good. I’ll leave you two to talk, but, Miss Carver, don’t make it long. Your father needs absolute rest—no movement whatsoever. I’ve given him something to make him sleep and keep h
im still.” He reached toward Emily’s head. “First let me take a look at your wound. Sit here.” He motioned to the chair beside the bed.

  Emily took a seat and waited while he unwound the bandage and set it aside. The spot was tender as he moved her hair. “Your wound looks good, although how that Utica physician managed to stitch it so neatly without shaving off a good portion of your hair is quite beyond me.” He stepped back and smiled. “Wouldn’t do for such a pretty young woman to be bald. We needn’t worry about rebandaging.”

  She nodded. Once the doctor had gone she looked down at her father. “Now you tell me how you feel, and don’t try to lie to me. I want the truth.”

  Henry Carver gave a hint of a smile. “You sound just like your ma. Honestly, I’m doing fine. I can’t feel much below my chest, but the doctor said that’s to be expected because of the swelling.” Then his expression changed. “But what of you? There’s a bruise on your face and a wound atop your head. What’s happened to you?”

  He didn’t remember that Davies had struck her? Of course he wouldn’t know about Davies hitting her with the butt of his pistol, because he’d already been shot. “Davies shot you and I bit him. Then he hit me over the head. The doctor in Utica said he put in twelve stitches, but it feels like it might have been a hundred.”

  Tears came to her father’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I should have been better prepared. Since he hadn’t been around, I guess I thought maybe he’d moved on.”

  “Well, here’s the strange thing about it all. The marshal in Utica told me it couldn’t have been Davies.” She stated the information in a matter-of-fact manner. “He said Kirk Davies was in his jail all night and the next day until we arrived in our wounded state.”

  “I guess I don’t remember much.” Her father closed his eyes. “Are you absolutely sure it was Davies?”

  “Yes.” Emily didn’t wait for him to ask further questions on the matter. “I know it was him, and I can prove it with that bite. I bit him hard. He must have a good-sized wound on his left thigh.”