Colorado Gold

by Marian Wells

  “Mind your aunty.”

  She nodded, then asked, “Does this trip mean we’ll be moving again?”

  “No. The bishop has expansion plans in mind, and I’m being sent to spy out the land—like Joshua.” He was smiling as he turned away.

  Amy spent the afternoon strolling through the trees and along the bank of Clear Creek with Belle and the other girls from their tent. When they sat down under the willows, Belle resumed her prying questions. “Do you believe it is wrong to let a fellow kiss you? All this talk about sin and stuff. Why, I know a girl back home who—” She tilted her saucy face toward Amy and said, “You tell us. Your Aunt Maude said you’re engaged. What is he like? A Prince Charming, tall and handsome, strong and brave?”

  Amy didn’t answer, but it wasn’t necessary. The conversation moved on without her. Listening to the chatter and trying to smile, her thoughts drifted to the last time she had seen Lucas. While the laughter circled around her, she bent to pick the tiny blossoms growing in the grass.

  At dinner, the conversation of the older women became a gentle hum in her ears, while Amy found herself thinking of the afternoon. Her lips twisted in a mocking smile. What a contrast—innocent girlish laughter, and Lucas.

  Amy shifted the uninteresting pile of food on her plate, wishing the images would disappear from her mind, especially the one of Lucas coming out of the shack with that woman beside him. I am seriously considering marrying him! Forgive—that is Christian. But there was another image: Amy dressed in silk with hands poised over the grand piano, applause, people jumping to their feet, cheering.

  Amy caught her breath and looked around. Aunt Maude was talking. Her words pounded into Amy and she began to dread the evening service. Fluttering her hand, Maude exclaimed, “Oh, those were the good old days—but it will happen again! I tell you, no one can stand before the power of the Lord. It’s no secret we’ve spent all afternoon praying the Lord would visit us in the same old-fashioned way.

  “You girls should have been there!” She pointed toward Amy and Belle. “These young ladies have no idea what it was like. People falling under the power of the Spirit, right and left. I’ve seen old drunkards crawling in on hands and knees, and they stayed that way until the glory came down.”

  Belle was watching Amy and her eyes were widening. Hastily Amy rose, saying, “Aunt Maude, I believe I’ll go lie down. My head is starting to throb terribly. If I feel better I’ll join you later. Do you want to save a seat for me?”

  Aunt Maude’s hand dropped. “Headache? Amy, you’ll be just as well off right with me. You know what they said last night. There’s to be no missing meetings or moving off in the trees. Those are rules, and they are made to keep things moral around here.” Amy felt as if those eyes were seeing clear through her and Aunt Maude added, “Not that I don’t trust an engaged girl, but still, you’ll have to sacrifice for the good of the others.”

  Belle’s eyes brightened. “Amy, you never did tell us what it’s like to be engaged!” Dismayed, Amy looked up at the circle of eyes studying her. She glanced at the firm line of Aunt Maude’s lips. It simply was a waste of time to fuss when Aunt Maude put her foot down. She shrugged.

  Daniel had begun looking for Amy before dinner, but it was late, nearly the close of service, when he saw her.

  The moon was high in the sky and the fires on the earthen pillars had burned to bright embers. The last altar call had been given and the last hymn sung. Daniel joined the elders moving among the people kneeling at the mourner’s bench.

  At the first shout he looked up. “Glory! Lord, lay ’em out like you’ve done in the past. Glory!” When the woman turned, he saw her uplifted face. It was Amy’s Aunt Maude. Immediately behind her he saw Amy’s bright hair.

  At Aunt Maude’s second shout, he watched Amy slip from her seat and flee through the night, into the line of cottonwoods. Daniel jumped to his feet and followed.

  Amy plunged through the trees, unthinking, wanting only to escape. When she stubbed her toe and flew headlong into the grassy bank, she lay there, too exhausted to rise.

  The picture of the woman at the altar again flashed across her mind, and she trembled. “God,” she cried, “why are you doing this to me? What have I done to deserve this? I said I would forgive him!”

  Then the words died on her lips, and she gasped. It wasn’t the old nightmare. That wasn’t Mother lying beside the wooden bench. In horror she cried, “That’s me! Why did I see me like that?”

  Amy flung herself against the ground, trying to escape. The tears came, wrenching her, tearing every inch of her mind and heart. The good and bad of herself mixed together until it was impossible to know anything except the awful finger of God pointing to the ugliness.

  Finally she rolled over in the grass and faced the pale sky. She screamed her defiance, “Then you do it! I can’t. Rescue me if you care.”

  She trembled herself into a ball, shivering against the damp soil, conscious only of mud and grass. Part of the earth. Mother is part of the earth. And I will be too. I have screamed at God.

  “Amy!” She covered her ears, but the voice was insistent. “Amy, I know you are there. Answer me!”

  It took him a long time to search through the dense grove of trees along the creek, but the strange fear in his heart kept him going. Finally he heard her crying. He plunged through the bushes, crying, “Amy!”

  She jumped and turned to run. He called, “It’s Daniel. Wait! I must see you.”

  “Oh, Daniel! I am glad you are here!” She rubbed the tears out of her eyes and reached for him.

  Clasping her hands, he drew her out into the full light of the moon. “Oh, how good it is to see you again! I’ve missed you so much. Let me look at you. You’ve been crying!” He hesitated, watching her shrink away. He gulped and carefully said, “I met your father yesterday and since then I’ve been trying to find you. Tell me all about yourself. You’re crying—why?”

  She was shaking her head, trying to deny the tears; then abruptly she sank down on the ground. Huddled with her back against a cottonwood, she gulped and scrubbed at her face. “I’m sorry. It’s just the way these services affect me.” He knelt beside her and waited.

  Amy caught her breath and looked at Daniel. Even by the dim light of the moon his brown eyes were familiar and tender. They nearly pushed away Lucas’s laughing, mocking eyes. Lucas, the piano, and the silk dress.

  He doesn’t know about Lucas. He couldn’t, acting like this. For a moment he hugged me, like a beau. The old sore spot in her heart disappeared. Maybe he had forgotten her shameless hug on that terrible day. She realized she wasn’t listening to Daniel, yet the soothing murmur of his voice reached her.

  As she looked up at him, she found herself desperately wishing she could tell him everything—all the frightening things that didn’t seem to fit words. The impulse had her hand reaching, the words nearly there.

  “Amy?” Those honest brown eyes were close. For a moment she closed her eyes. To let him know would be to lose a friend forever. She dropped her hand in her lap and her heart sank. His hand was warm on her shoulder. “If there’s something you need to pray about—”

  Never, never, never. She looked up at him. “It’s just that this brings back terrible memories. We were at camp meeting when Mother died.”

  “I had forgotten that,” he said slowly. Shoving a log against the tree, he said, “Come sit here with me. I’d like you to tell me about it, if you don’t mind. Sometimes it helps to talk.” Unexpectedly he grinned, “Besides, now that I’ve found you, I want to hang on to you.”

  She sat down, gulped and tried to hide the fears that sent her fleeing. Taking a deep breath, she said brightly, “Honest, Daniel, there’s not much to recall. I remember only the next day. Everyone looked terrible and Aunt Maude kept crying. Father was sick and he couldn’t talk. See, that’s about all I remember. They still don’t talk about it. I’ve tried to bring it up, but it’s so bad that then Father won’t look at me for days.
”

  “You say it happened a long time ago?”

  “Yes.” She sighed and rubbed her face. “I was just four when she died.”

  “And you were at camp meeting.” He reached for her hand and Amy was grateful for the darkness. She hesitated a moment and then snuggled her hand into his. He asked, “What caused her death?”

  “I don’t know. I was never told. We were living in Missouri. Shortly after that we moved. I don’t remember my mother’s kin,” she finished sadly.

  For a time they sat in silence. Reluctantly he spoke again, “Amy, there’s something else, isn’t there? It just doesn’t seem—”

  She was shaking her head, “Daniel, there’s nothing, honest.”

  He added, “I was angry and scared after my pa died.”

  “Why scared?”

  He took a deep breath. “Well, I suppose it’s silly, but I’d never thought about death in this way before. When my mother died I was younger. We were lonely and not knowing what to do. But this was different, I guess because I’m grown now. I started thinking about God. Mostly how foolish it was to try to run my life without Him.

  “Amy, after I left Central City, the Lord got hold of me. I guess what I mean is, I really started listening to Him.” He was quiet; finally he added, “Somehow I expected life to go the way I planned. I never realized it could be shut down as quickly as it happened to Pa.”

  Suddenly she understood his direction. Abruptly she said, “Well, if you think I’m worried about dying, I—”

  “Amy!” They both heard Aunt Maude at the same time. Jumping to their feet, they watched the figures crashing through the underbrush toward them. Aunt Maude had the presiding elder with her.

  Amy heard Daniel groan as he said, “Brother Goode!”

  Aunt Maude’s voice cut through, rising hysterically. “Belle had to be the one to tell me! She says ‘Amy’s gone!’ This is what you were planning all along! Headache? Oh, what will Eli think; what will Lucas think?” She was crying, lifting a beseeching hand to Elder Goode. “Bad blood. I trusted her. That fellow, it isn’t the first time he’s—”

  Amy looked at the man facing Daniel and she pushed herself between the two. “Please, don’t blame Daniel. I ran away and he was trying to help me. I didn’t think. I knew the rule—”

  “Her father will never live through this,” Aunt Maude said sadly.

  “Father!” Amy’s voice broke. The immediate horror became coupled with that long-ago time. She imagined his stricken face. She winced, said softly, “I love my father; never would I disgrace him, make him suffer again, like—”

  “How can we make it right?” Daniel was asking in a despairing voice.

  Aunt Maude whirled. “This mustn’t touch him. I won’t have my brother hurt. Not again. This must be hushed.” Her fingers were picking at the elder’s sleeve. “Please, sir, I can’t believe this ugliness. Make it right. For the sake of us all, will you marry them right now? This evening.”

  “Marry!” Amy gasped. “Aunt Maude! This is non—” The word died on Amy’s lips. Nonsense? She saw an image of Lucas, the secret dream. She trembled. I prayed, I shouted at God; could this be the answer? Abruptly the heaviness slid off her heart.

  Daniel paced the clearing. “Look, we’ve broken a rule. But you’re implying we’ve been—I think too much of Amy to even let you hint this.”

  The presiding elder answered slowly, thoughtfuly. “For the sake of Daniel’s future that would best quiet things down. However, this must be their choice.” He added, “They’re not the first young couple to be caught.”

  Elder Goode and Daniel were standing face-to-face and Amy heard Daniel’s gasp. Quickly he turned to Amy. “You know I would never force such a situation on you.”

  “Disgraced forever!” Aunt Maude exclaimed. “I knew he would come to no good end. I’m not surprised he’s refusing to make an honest woman out of her. It’ll kill her father.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t want to marry Amy. It’s just that you aren’t giving me a chance. I don’t want a bride who’s been forced to marry me. I—”

  Amy closed her eyes briefly and then looked at Daniel before she turned to her aunt. “Aunt Maude,” she pointed to Elder Goode, “he says it will be best. For Father’s sake, too.” She gave Daniel a quick glance. “You aren’t forcing me. Yes, Daniel, I’ll marry you.”

  The moment the words were out, Amy wanted to pull them back. Daniel was looking at her as if she had hit him with a log. I backed him into the corner, Amy thought. He’s a gentleman; what did I expect? He no more wanted to marry me than anything.

  “Come along.” He avoided her eyes as they walked back into the silent campground. She could see the empty benches, the feeble glow of the fires, even that peeled-log mourner’s bench. Aunt Clara Brown called it an anxious seat.

  Feeling as if she were caught in a strange dream, Amy followed Elder Goode as he led the way to his tent. When he took Daniel aside, Amy could see their troubled faces illuminated by the candle beside the black, bound Bible.

  There was a question she couldn’t hear, but she saw the exchange of words brought relief to both faces. Moving slowly they took their places. Looking up at Daniel, Amy thought, It’s like the words are wrapping us in cotton. We’re even separated away from Aunt Maude. The thought made her straighten her shoulders.

  When Brother Goode carried his Bible forward and began to carefully record their names on the paper he held, she was surprised to see a faint half-smile on his face.

  Then came the unbelievable words. “Daniel Gerrett, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? In the sight of God, do you covenant to love and cling to her only as long as you both shall live? Amy Amelia Randolph, do you—”

  And now Amy was surprised by the flash of a smile on Daniel’s face as he took her hand.

  She was still studying that smile when Elder Goode said, “I advise you, since there are no honeymoon cottages around, be off now, before daybreak.”

  Amy had only begun to recover from the shock when Aunt Maude pressed the valise and the bedroll into her hands. Also, Amy saw that Aunt Maude carefully avoided looking at the two of them.

  Elder Goode said, “I needed to get this horse back to Denver City. You’ll do me a favor if you take it in. Daniel, I want to see you next week. Come to the house.”

  The moon had crossed the sky by the time Amy and Daniel left the tent. When they had led the horses beyond the camp, Amy gave a deep sigh of relief.

  “Why the sigh?” Daniel asked. He was tying the bedroll behind the elder’s saddle. Amy shrugged in answer to the question, grateful the darkness hid her face. She was pondering the sigh herself when Daniel said, “I hope you can stick on this horse.”

  “I’ll manage. Back home I rode bareback when just the cousins were around.”

  “How little I know about you!” he murmured. Placing his hands on her waist, he lifted her into the saddle.

  Silent now, they rode the horses away from the creek, heading for the arid plains and the distant huddle of dark shapes marking Denver City and Auraria. Amy was full of questions. She looked at the dark shape of her silent bridegroom and her heart cried, Daniel, do you regret this? What happens now?

  They had nearly reached the Platte River when Daniel pulled even with Amy’s horse. “It’ll be daylight before we get to the Goode’s cabin. I think we need to do some talking first.”

  His voice cut through her bemused state. She tried to fight off fatigue as she straightened in the saddle. She couldn’t see Daniel’s face, but his voice was melancholy. Suddenly the whole, strange night became real and she felt her heart thudding into her stomach.

  Daniel slipped off his horse and dropped his saddle on the ground. He spread a blanket for her and went to water the horses.

  When he came back, the dream-like quality of the evening had disappeared completely and she murmured, “Oh, Daniel, what do we do now?” For just a moment he hesitated. When he sat down beside her, she said, “
I really messed things up, didn’t I? How could I ever let Aunt Maude make me think like that? We’d done nothing wrong. What ever possessed me? What will Father say?”

  “Well, probably less than he would if I’d just taken off. Let’s face it. We were breaking rules. I honestly didn’t even think of them,” he muttered. “Gettin’ so high and mighty with my position, I forgot everybody sees me as just another young’un.”

  He doesn’t sound the least bit happy. Amy remained silent as the sky slowly lightened. Now with the passing of night, with the hard facts before them, it all seemed impossible.

  Daniel raised his head. With a grin he said, “Hey, don’t look like that! It isn’t the end of the world—or is it?” Then his grin faded. “Well, I guess it isn’t the best way to start a marriage. You said your father has gone to Fort Lupton. I suggest we head that way first thing tomorrow.” His voice was very dry. “Might be to our advantage to have a talk with him before Aunt Maude does.”

  Amy winced. “I don’t think that will help much. She’s—”

  “Amy,” he began, then hastily added, “Oh, never mind. Let’s go into town and then decide how we’re going to handle getting to Fort Lupton tomorrow.”

  “I am so tired,” she murmured. “Daniel, it’s the first time in my life that I’ve stayed awake all night.”

  “Same here. Let’s nap for a few minutes.”

  When Amy awakened, Daniel had gone after the horses and had them saddled. “Sleepy head,” he murmured, “it’s getting near noon, and we need to find something to eat. Let’s take this horse home first.”

  When they reached the Goode’s cabin, they saw a wagon by the door and several horses tethered to the tree in the front yard.

  Amy waited until Daniel took the saddle off the horse and turned it into the pasture close to the house. While they stood by the barn, Amy heard a voice behind her. “All right, you two, don’t you go sneaking off to the barn.”

  Amy turned as Daniel said, “Mrs. Goode, this is—”

  “I know all about her.” With hands on hips, the woman beamed down at them. “The Adriances have just come from meeting this morning. The whole place is buzzing. Supposed to be pretty romantic, getting married at midnight, huh? If it were anyone but my husband tying the knot, I’d be questioning his judgment.”