Sourdough Creek

  She was back with his canteen. He uncapped it and took a long drink. “Thirsty?” he asked, holding it out to her.

  She shook her head.

  Sam held up his vial, the one with the “S” scratched into the tin lid. “Hmm, a little under three quarters full. Can I see yours?”

  Her face clouded. “Sure, but it’s on the shore with my things.”

  Sam went over and picked it up. He held both between his thumb and forefinger, side by side in the sunshine. He looked for a long time, until he was sure he had her undivided attention. “You’re winning by quite a bit now. I need to step up the heat.”

  Sam didn’t miss her furrowed brow, or how she chewed her bottom lip. He was almost tempted to expose the plan to her right then and there. Almost. Much of the scheme’s success depended on Arvid, and his reaction to the news of Cassie’s steady, growing lead. The old coot asked about it every single night. Sam needed him to believe in Cassie’s lead, so that when he learned it had been usurped, and that Sam was going to win the rights to the claim, it would come as a most unpleasant shock.

  It was a gamble—but one he hoped would pay off handsomely in the end. If it did, Cassie would know beyond question that he’d been telling her the truth about the claim from the beginning and that her uncle was a lying crook. For Cassie’s sake he hated to have to do it, but not enough to hold back from exposing Arvid for the wretchedly deceitful person he was. Sam was convinced Cassie and Josephine would be much better off without Arvid Angel complicating their lives.

  “There’s still a week left, Sam. Anything could happen.”

  “That’s so. But it would take a whole lot of color to make up the difference.” He shook his head as if discouraged. “I’m pretty sure I won’t be the winner.”

  “You’re not giving up!” She planted her hands on her hips as she gazed at him. “Are you?”

  “No. Not yet. I’m still holding out for a miracle.” He gestured to the sluice box. “It’s getting dark. You want me to help you with these last few pans before we quit? Of course, any gold I find will be yours.”

  She looked up to the campsite, her brows drawn down in worry. Sam’s familiar anger at Arvid, and his desire to throttle the man, fueled his blood.

  “You sure you don’t mind?” she asked.

  “Nope.” Sam picked up the small cradle and scraped some of the dirt from the bottom onto Cassie’s gold pan. He did the same with his own.

  They crouched side-by-side in amicable silence.

  Minutes crawled by.

  “Here—look.” Cassie pointed at five little gold flakes in the black dirt. “This was a good one.”

  Practiced now, she pushed the slivers onto the rim of the dark gray pan with her fingernail, away from the rest of the dirt. One by one, she pressed them onto her little finger and scraped them into her container.

  Sam looked into the bottom of his pan. “Hey, here’re two more.”

  She was just putting the cap onto her vial. “You take those, Sam.”

  “I couldn’t. They came from your dirt.”

  “I don’t care. I mean it. They’re yours!”

  Sam hid his smile. “Only if you’re absolutely sure.”

  “Of course I’m sure. You panned them. And, you were the one who thought of the sluice box in the first place. That was such a smart idea.”

  She was shivering like a newborn calf in a snowstorm, a sight Sam saw all too often of late but would never get used to. She stuck her vial into her pocket and moved toward the bank.

  For the second time that day, Sam fished out the two slivers of gold from the dark earth at the bottom of his gold pan, but this time he put them into his vial marked with an “S” in the cap. He looked at Cassie. It was time to play his hand, and let the cards fall where they may.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  “It’s clear, even to a blind man, that you’re going to win this competition, Cassie,” Sam said, tipping the brim of his hat up so he could see into her face clearly. “I’m resigned to the fact. Let me be the first one to congratulate you.”

  Her head jerked up. She was standing on a grassy knoll waiting for him, her gold pan in one hand and canteen in the other. “That’s not a fact.” Her hair was pulled back but wisps had escaped, and her pants were soaked up to her knees.

  “Well, maybe if I kept mining and you stopped, but with the daily growth on both ends good sense tells me you’re the legitimate victor.” He trudged up the side of the riverbank and was at her side. “I have something I want to ask you.”

  First, Sam picked up the jacket he’d brought with him this morning and draped it over her small frame. He patted her shoulders firmly and rubbed his hands up and down her arms several times. She smiled her thanks and looked to him expectantly.

  He collected his thoughts. This was his only chance to clear up this crazy misconception. “Is there any possibility you think your uncle might be lying about how he got the claim before he put it in your drawer in Broken Branch?”

  She glanced away from his face, a sequence of emotions crossing her face. She hesitated.

  “I thought as much,” Sam said, relief bolstering his confidence. “You do have doubts about his story. In that case, I have something else I want to ask and it’s going to sound like a crazy request. But, hear me out. And keep an open mind.” He took a step toward camp. “Come on. We can talk while we walk.”

  Clearly, Cassie was hesitant. A wall of distrust sprouted right before his eyes and began to grow up around her. But, fortunately for him, she hadn’t out-and-out insisted her uncle’s story was fact. There was still a chance his idea might work. He had at least to try. “I want to switch vials with you.”

  Cassie stopped and stared, wide eyed. They were at the halfway point to camp. She took a deep breath. “Why?”

  “I have something I want to prove to you, and this may be the only way. At least the only way I can think of. All we’ll do is switch the lids so the vial with the most gold, yours, will have the S for Sam. I’ll keep it and you’ll keep mine. We’ll tell Arvid that today I made a killing.”

  She was listening to him intently.

  “We’ll both know that the vial I’ll be holding, the one with the most gold and the ‘S’ on it, really belongs to you. During the day, when we’re panning, we’ll switch back to our real containers so our gold won’t get mixed up. As soon as the week is over and we’re heading for the assessor’s office in town, we’ll change them back. I promise not a flake of your gold will be lost or taken. But the net result is your uncle will think I’m winning.”

  Cassie stuck her hand in her pocket and closed her hand around the vial that held her and Josephine’s future. Right now there was enough gold inside to lease a small Main Street building somewhere, and have lots of money left over for supplies and all the baking utensils her heart desired. It wasn’t a fortune, but plenty to get her business up and running. Another week of the same good fortune and she wouldn’t have to worry about paying the bills, or feeding Josephine, for a good long time.

  “Cassie, say something.” His voice was laced with uncertainty.

  Stalling, she looked up to camp. She didn’t see her uncle anywhere. He hadn’t made it out of his tent again today. She brought her attention back to Sam, standing in front of her with a worried expression knitting his brow. What in the world was he planning?

  “Cassie?”

  “Sam, I don’t know what to say. I can’t see any reason whatsoever to do this silly thing you’re requesting.” She felt her mother’s warning deep in her heart. It screamed for her to give him a flat-out no! He was the one who’d lied to her and Josephine for days. No. She couldn’t do it. Regardless that he’d helped her pan and do all the chores.

  Warmth came up in her face and she was thankful Sam couldn’t know what she was thinking about him.

  He held out his hand to her. His eyes were dark, mysterious. “Trust me.”

  She looked down at his hand for a long moment, thinking. Her heart
and her head were battling for her attention, demanding she listen. Her mind screamed out every warning her mother had ever told her, accentuating all the examples she’d given her. But, her heart was full of Sam: his smiles; his hurts; all the things he’d done here to help make her days easier, better; all the times he’d taken her side. He’d thought of her every inch of the way. He’d been her advocate more times than she could count. She thought of the kiss.

  For one instant she closed out the world and shut her eyes. What should I do? She held her breath, hoping for a reply.

  Trust in him as you trust in Me.

  The voice. The one that had told her to open her eyes to the mountain lion and to hide from the outlaws. She looked up into Sam’s face and reached for his hand.

  “You can trust me, Cassie,” he said, as his fingers closed over hers. “I’m not trying to cheat you.”

  “I know.” They were the only two words she could muster. She stepped closer when he gave a gentle tug, and he wrapped her in his arms.

  ***

  Something, something was going on between those two, Arvid thought as he peeked out from the confines of his tent. They were cooking up a plan down there on the trail and he’d give his first born and then all the rest, if he’d had any, to know what it was. The competition would be over and done within a week and he was glad. He didn’t know how much longer he could stay cooped up in this stinkin’ tent. Thank goodness Cassie was the scrapper he’d always thought she was. She was beating that stupid cowboy by a country mile. Who’d have ever thought it would be so easy when that busybody old man suggested this contest?

  One more week. He could make it. Arvid patted his stomach, thinking how soft he’d gotten while lying around. The food offerings had been monotonous, with a few exceptions, but soon he’d be plenty rich to enjoy eating at any restaurant, in any town he wanted. After the trip to measure the gold at the assayer’s office, and get the claim papers notarized in his name, he’d take a couple of days off to enjoy the comforts of town, and sample all the things he’d missed most. Then he and Cassie would head back out here to get down to some real work—knowing that every last flake of gold from this claim would forever be his.

  He wiped his hand over the beard that had grown during the past three weeks. There was a possibility Cassie might decide she didn’t want to come back out to the claim with him. If she’d had enough of the cold and mud she might try to run off. He’d have to come up with some way to threaten her with Josephine. At this point, leaving Josephine with that woman in Rosenthal had been a boon. Probably, after some time, she would want to keep her and raise her as her own. He’d let her think that. When Josephine was a few years older and capable of work, he’d make the trip out and collect her. Two more hands would just mean all the more gold pulled from this river.

  Arvid snickered and laid back on his blankets. This was working out much better than he’d ever dreamed it could.

  Sam could hardly wait to see Arvid’s face tonight when he asked about the gold. Oh, it was going to be worth all the aggravation the old man had caused him over the past few months. He glanced up the path where Cassie was bringing Arvid slowly from his tent.

  He hunkered down by the fire and poked the burning logs with a stick. It gave several loud pops and sparks floated into the air. He snapped the stick in two, adding it to the flames, and then stirred the venison soup that bubbled softly. He watched the little explosions with amusement, imagining each was a pop of surprise on Arvid’s face. Satisfaction spread throughout his core. He stood when he heard them coming into the clearing.

  “Arvid,” he offered in greeting, a smug happiness spreading in his chest.

  “Ridgeway.”

  Sam glanced at Cassie’s steady expression as her uncle clung to her arm. Arvid

  dragged his right foot a little too noticeably for Sam not to sneer inwardly. The man was insufferable.

  “This is hot, Cassie. Shall I dish it up?”

  “Thank you, Sam. That’d be a help.”

  “Thank you, Sam,” Arvid mimicked with a snicker. “You two are just so damn refined. Blue-blooded thoroughbreds, the both of you. Ha!” His face twisted in scorn.

  Sam reined in his temper with effort as he ladled up the soup. Cassie pretended not to hear the slur, but Sam knew differently. He handed her a steaming bowl and she passed it on to her uncle, whom she’d helped to sit on the log. Then she accepted one for herself. Dishing a third, Sam took a seat.

  They ate in silence for a good ten minutes. Sam was the first to finish. He placed his bowl in the wash bucket and went over to where they kept the jug of apple brandy.

  “Almost gone,” he said, pouring a little into his cup. “Want some?” Cassie shook her head. Arvid didn’t respond.

  Sam took a little sip and settled onto the far end of the log. Taking his gold vial from his pocket, he held it up to look at it.

  Arvid belched and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “How bad she beating you now?”

  Sam took a sip, savoring the tangy richness, and held it in his mouth. His eyes met Cassie’s as he swallowed. “The tide has turned,” he said evenly. “I’m in the lead.”

  The older man sat up so fast Sam knew he couldn’t be in any pain. Arvid practically spit the coffee from his mouth when he said, “What’re you talking about? Yesterday, and every other day before, Cassie has beaten the pants off you. Now all of a sudden you’re winnin’?” Cassie’s eyes narrowed as she looked at her uncle, intently.

  Sam took another sip, making Arvid wait on his answer. This was too good to rush. “Found a little pocket today. Had so much color my eyes were sparkling.” Sam laughed with gusto, putting on the best show he could. It did feel good after all this time.

  “Lemme see,” Arvid demanded.

  “You have your vial handy, Cassie?” Sam asked.

  “I’ll get it.” Cassie headed toward her tent. Sam hoped she could play along enough not to give his plan away. Most times, she wore her heart on her sleeve, her emotions transparent and readable as those of a puppy. A lie like this might be hard for her to pull off.

  Cassie returned and handed her gold to her uncle. He looked at it closely, and then held his hand out to Sam. “ Now lemme see yours, Ridgeway.”

  Sam shook his head. “I don’t think I want to let you hold my findings. It just might slip from your fingers. You know how fragile this glass can be.”

  He walked over and held the vial in his hand up next to the one Arvid thought was Cassie’s so the man could see the quarter-inch difference in the golden flakes. Sam almost laughed as Arvid’s eyes bugged out hideously from his face.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  “What were you doing today, girl! Napping? I knew you had a lazy bone.”

  Sam stepped closer to Arvid, his hand closing tightly around the vial he held in his hand to form a white-knuckled fist. “Don’t talk that way to Cassie. She’s working harder than five grown men put together. If you want to win this claim you better get your own backside up, and get to work.”

  Arvid slumped down quickly. “You know I can’t!”

  “Well, maybe not. But that only means in a week this place will be mine.” He glanced again at Cassie, winking surreptitiously as he turned his attention to the fire. He held up his vial and gazed at it lovingly in the amber glow of the flames.

  After a moment, he stole a glance at Arvid. The man’s jaw clenched and Sam knew he wanted to give Cassie a tongue lashing to end all others, but was too afraid of what Sam would do to him if he did. The older man’s face was pasty white and he looked about to lose his supper.

  “There’s still time. You two may beat me yet,” Sam said, wanting to keep the conversation going. Rubbing salt into the wound was a temptation just too appealing. “It’s possible, you know. Maybe there’s another pocket where Cassie is working.”

  “I’m feeling weak again, Cassie girl. Help me back to my tent?” Arvid gazed at the ground where his bare feet made prints in the dirt. A little sigh esca
ped his lips.

  Sam stepped over and grasped his arm. “She’s just on her way to switch out the horses for the night, Arvid. But, I’ll be happy to give you a hand.”

  Three days came and went without incident. Sam’s odd request pertaining to the gold—and her uncle—weighed heavy on Cassie. Her uncle still hadn’t gotten up to help her, and that was what Sam was trying to show her, she was sure. He remained sullenly in his tent, now not even coming out for meals. She would be glad when this whole affair was over and she was back with Josephine. Gold claim or not, she had enough money now, even if it was split with her uncle, to start her and Josephine’s bakery and become self-sufficient.

  She glanced over at Sam, who was using the sluice box. His expression indicated he was deep in thought. He dropped handfuls of dirt into the water from the bucket he’d hauled over from the bank. They’d been working for hours and he was getting quite a bit of color.

  Cassie shivered. Moments before, the sun had disappeared behind one of the black clouds filling the sky, making the water feel even colder today than normal. Sam looked up, his face handsome in its contemplation.

  “Will it rain?” she called to him, pressing two gold flakes onto her little finger and slipping them into her vial.

  He looked over and smiled. He was about five feet away and the rushing of the river made it hard to hear. “It may. Those clouds look pretty heavy, and the wind is picking up. Storms in the high county aren’t unusual this time of year. Spring showers bring May flowers, or some such thing I heard said.”