by Marian Wells
In the dark, Daniel stumbled against the table as he got to his feet. He asked, “Is it possible now? It was pushing things mighty far for Brother Goode to accept me after Aunt Maude got to him. Now, well, I might just have to go back to mining.”
“I’ll come with you, son. I’ll put in a word for you with Goode.”
“Why don’t you just let me have my talk first. Maybe he considers me to be bad preacher material. If he doesn’t, well, I’ll ask him to come see you.”
As Daniel got back on his horse and headed down the road, he was aware of something he hadn’t heeded before. Eli was an old man.
The following day, Daniel again stood on the steps of the Goodes’ cabin. The presiding elder was at home.
Goode looked at him and said, “I’m guessing the preaching business is a mite difficult.”
“It isn’t that, Brother Goode, but I need to have a talk with you.”
“Then come with me to the church.”
Silently Daniel followed the man’s long strides across the field toward the new building. When Goode paused to admire his church, Daniel stopped beside him and squinted up at the log cross fastened to the eaves.
“Looks mighty nice,” Brother Goode said with satisfaction in his voice. “I’m glad they got the sawmill operating before we finished building; otherwise there’d have been a soddy roof. Advantage to the logs over the planed lumber is it’s warmer in winter. It’s good-sized for a log building.”
Goode continued to nod. “First decent looking church building in the whole of Denver City.”
Inside they sat side by side on the pine pew. Daniel look a deep breath and said, “I don’t rightly know where to begin. By getting married, I thought we’d done the only thing that would make things right. Seems it didn’t. We’d hardly left Denver City before Amy started talking about leaving the territory and going east. I never realized she wasn’t happy here.”
He glanced at Goode, saw the curious, kind eyes and blurted out, “Fact is, Brother Goode, I guess I’ve been taken with Amy since I first met her. Being pressured by Aunt Maude started seeming pretty good after I got over being mad about the implications.”
“You mean you wanted to marry Amy?” the presiding elder was chuckling and shaking his head. “You young people. So, now what’s the problem?”
“When I came back from the first circuit, Amy was gone. Silas’s wife saw her getting on the stage. We thought she’d gone home, but her pa hasn’t seen her.”
Daniel watched the last sign of merriment disappear from Goode’s face, and when his chin came to rest on his collar, Daniel knew it was over. All of it. The dreams of Amy by his side, the dreams of a church like this.
Carefully Daniel rested his head in his cupped hands and waited.
“And the Lord’s deserted you too?” Daniel lifted his head and studied Goode’s expression.
“I haven’t thought of it like that. I was just thinking of the present. How can I be serving as a parson when there’s all this about Amy being aired?”
“What’s the Lord done for you?”
Daniel wondered where to start. Carefully he said, “Brother Goode, I’ve said it before, and it’s the same now.”
“Say it again.”
As he started to speak, he tried to clear his voice of the emotion that was coming through. “It’s the same. The Lord reached down and rescued me. I asked Him for help. He forgave my sins and just plain changed me completely. I didn’t know getting religion would do that for a fellow. Everything is different. All I had sense enough to ask for was to quit being afraid of dying, and He’s made me glad to be living. Mighty glad. I wanted to be free of the ugliness of my past, and He’s made me want to help others in the same way. I—”
Daniel saw Brother Goode nodding and smiling, “Go on.”
He was grinning as he finished. “Why, nothing’s changed about my call. He’s still asking me to do the work.”
“Do you trust the Lord in this matter with Amy?” Daniel nodded, and Goode added, “Even if you never see her again?”
Slowly Daniel said, “Brother Adriance and I had a talk. He said I had two obligations now: to God in fulfilling my call and to my wife. He said I had to trust God with both. That means putting everything in His hands and believing He’ll work things out just the way He purposes to. The only thing, I don’t know where to begin. Does that mean I’m just to sit here and wait until I get some help from the Lord? An understanding about the next step?”
The presiding elder’s face wrinkled into unhappy lines. “Son, I don’t know any better advice to give you. Just wait. But don’t let your hands be idle while you’re waiting.”
“I’m certain she’s gone east. I know there’s family back there. She’ll be with them. But how will it be for me here? Is there any room for a guy who’s gained and lost a wife all in one week?” He paused for a moment, then said, “And I can’t forget what her pa said just as I left him.”
“What was that?”
Daniel lowered his head as he continued, “He said, ‘Forget you ever knew Amy; it’s the only way you’ll be able to handle it.’ Sir, his voice was bitter when he said that. And I know I won’t be able to do that.”
Daniel got to his feet. “One thing bothers me about being a Christian—I don’t feel I’ve really learned to pray. Those old-fashioned prayers the men talk about, where a man gets to the end of himself and throws himself completely on God’s mercy—I guess now is the time.”
“Prayin’s important, Daniel. But there’s a saying in the church: The Lord expects his men to put feet to their prayers.”
Daniel thought a moment, then nodded. “I guess I’d better tell you. If I ever find out where she is, I’ll go to her. Then if it’s possible to make things right with her, I’ll try my best, short of disobeying the Lord.”
Chapter 16
Late afternoon shadows were rolling across the foothills when the stagecoach stopped at the little station nestled in the sagebrush and piñon pine. Amy was the last one to be handed down the steep step.
Looking over the barren hillside to the towering mountains behind, she hesitated. “I thought we’d be in Denver City by now.” She studied the lengthening shadows. “We’re nearly in the mountains; it just doesn’t seem like Denver City.”
The graying gentlemen who helped her out of the stagecoach turned to study her with keen eyes. “My dear young lady, this stage isn’t going to Denver City.”
Amy searched the amused eyes, “Sir, you’re teasing!”
“I’m not. Didn’t you realize we were traveling nearly straight west from the fort? To the east of here is Golden City.” He turned to point out the mountains behind them. “That cut through there is the route we’ll take. We should be in Fairplay late tonight.”
“I’ve never heard of Fairplay,” Amy said flatly, still not believing him.
“Or Buckskin Joe?” The saucy face peered at Amy from under the straw bonnet loaded with birds and silk blossoms.
The gentleman’s amused eyes twinkled at them both. “Then you two must get acquainted, for I think you’ll be neighbors—at least until another stage comes through.”
“You mean it, don’t you?” Amy cried.
“Of course,” the straw bonnet bobbed. “You’ve just taken the wrong stage. It’s happened before. Don’t worry, if you dislike Buckskin Joe, then take the stage back to Denver City.”
“I have no more money for fare,” Amy said dismally as she visualized the sight of her gold piece disappearing into the driver’s pouch.
“Haw there, old Mac!” She turned at the shout. Fresh horses were being led to the stage. The driver was standing in the doorway of the station. “Hurry now, folks. We want to be in Buckskin Joe by midnight.”
Amy ran toward him. “Please, I’ve taken the wrong stage. Can’t someone take me into Denver City?”
He eyed her, shrugged, and turned toward the stagecoach. “Suppose you could sit and wait; sooner or later someone will be going int
o Denver City. Could be a long wait, and can’t guarantee the charge—could be considerable. Want me to haul your baggage down?”
“No, I can’t afford more.” Slowly Amy climbed back into the stagecoach and took her place. Since her early morning dash to the stagecoach, she had been on edge with excitement. Now she sank back in a miserable heap. As the stagecoach pulled out of the station, the pebbles of the road pounded against the bottom of the coach, Amy winced.
Her “lark” had turned into a nightmare. The high tide of emotion was gone. She stared out the window. What have I done? She needn’t be reminded that the hasty steps she had taken couldn’t be undone.
Trying to compose herself, Amy tugged at the tiny money bag she carried and found her hands were trembling. With a wry smile, she realized that for the first time in her life she was completely on her own.
The straw bonnet noticed her hands. “Don’t worry; it won’t be that bad. The Tabors run the store and post office. They also have a boardinghouse. I have an idea they’ll be glad to put you up. I’ll tell them you can’t afford the boardinghouse and just maybe they’ll find work for you.”
The gait of the horses slowed and Amy could feel the shuddering strain run through the stagecoach as they started up the steep grade.
Amy caught the insolent grin of the young man in stained broadcloth who had been watching all the occupants of the stage. “Ya don’t like this?” he directed his question to her. “Wait’ll we start down the other side; that’ll give you a thrill—’specially in the dark.”
“I’ve been this route several times,” said the woman in the straw bonnet. “It isn’t bad at all. These drivers are good.”
The youth was not to be outdone. “Ever been on a stage when it was held up?”
“Are you talking about that miner they’ve been accusing of holding up stages—his name’s Jim Reynolds. I hear he’s polite to the ladies, so I won’t worry.” She paused for a moment and added, “You deal faro at Jake’s place, don’t you? I’m sure I’ve seen you.”
The stage slowed. There was a crack of the whip and a shout. Peering through the gloom beyond the window, Amy guessed they had reached the top of the mountain. As they rumbled into the descent, Amy grasped the leather strap above her head. Conversation was forgotten as the stagecoach swayed from side to side, bouncing the occupants back and forth.
The darkness deepened and Amy was forced to forget her troubles. All of life seemed to be suspended in the dipping, swaying coach as they rattled over stones, forded shallow creeks, and strained up yet another slope.
At the point when it seemed she couldn’t stand another sharp plunge in the blackness, the road leveled and became a smooth, arrow-straight path through the night.
Amy relaxed and the old gentlemen’s white dot of a face turned toward her. “They call this South Park,” he explained. “It’s flat meadow land as far as the eye can see, and it’s tucked nice and secure between the mountain ranges.” He was chuckling as he added, “It would be an idyllic haven, except for one thing—the Indians seem to like it, too.”
“Are there many settlements around here?” she asked.
He shrugged, “Depends on what you mean. There’s a few cabins around all the diggings, but most don’t rate the designation yet. Up this route there’s a handful.”
Amy dozed. She awakened to watch them roll through a series of little hamlets. The first was Fairplay with its cluster of buildings throwing streams of light through open shutters. Then came Alma, and abruptly the stage veered left and climbed a short steep hill.
Within minutes, the driver shouted, “Buckskin Joe!” and began to slow the stage. As he clambered down off the seat, Amy knew it was time for her to get off. Slowly she retrieved her belongings and miserably stared at the dim blobs of light piercing the gloom of the street.
The straw bonnet stopped beside her, and the girl’s hand was gentle as she placed it on Amy’s shoulder. “See there? That’s the Tabor’s place. Let’s go see if they won’t put you up until the stage comes back this way. Augusta has a soft heart—that is, unless you bat your eyes at her husband.”
Augusta was willing. Without question she led Amy to a tiny bedroom under the eaves. She explained, “We’ve a vacancy. Had a fellow helping out in the store and such, but he’s just left to try his hand at mining. There’s a claim that’s starting to show a real good color. They’re calling it the Phillips Lode, and it’s promising to be the best in the country.” She continued to chatter on, “The vein of quartz they’ve uncovered is running from twenty-five to sixty feet wide.”
She eyed Amy as she talked. Finally she asked, “You said you’re a married lady. Could it be you’re out here to look over the mining? Usually there’s only two kind of women coming into the camps. You don’t look like a camp follower to me.”
Amy was still struggling with an answer as she watched the woman pat the quilts into place. “If you don’t feel like going down the street for a proper dinner with the other passengers, come down to the kitchen and I’ll give you tea and biscuits.”
“I would like that,” Amy murmured. As the door closed behind Augusta, Amy stared at it. A new feeling was taking possession of her. I’m a stranger in a whole sea of strangers. There’s no one who knows me, no one cares what I do or say. Her next thought made her grin. But also, there are no eyes to frown, no challenges to be made or actions to be defended, no questions to answer.
In the morning the thought was still there. It was like suddenly being in another world, secreted away from the prying, demanding eyes.
But Augusta Tabor couldn’t be ignored, Amy realized that first day. She watched Augusta fly about her many tasks and went to help. “You could use extra hands,” Amy said. The woman’s grateful smile nearly brought tears to Amy’s eyes. Just being needed by the gentle, sad-eyed woman lent sureness to Amy’s fingers and feet.
By noon that first day, Amy discovered that Buckskin Joe was another bustling mining town. The clamor was much like Central City, although the dull thud of the stamp mill was missing. Augusta pointed out the tumble of machinery and the cluster of men down stream. “That’s the stamp mill. They’ve been working at getting it together for two weeks now. It’ll be a steam one, about the fanciest hereabouts.”
Together they walked down Buckskin Joe’s one main street. As Augusta talked, Amy studied the town. The road wound through the area, with buildings clustered on each side. All the buildings were of log or crudely planed lumber, unpainted and stark.
The largest building on the road was called the Grand Hotel. Amy recognized it as the building she had seen from the stagecoach, the one to which the passengers had streamed last night.
Buckskin Joe was situated in a saddle, slashed by a wide, shallow river. At noon this early July day, scorching heat seared the town. Amy tugged at her collar and wiped at the perspiration on her nose. Augusta seemed unmindful of the heat as she strolled the length of town pointing out the buildings. Amy hurried to keep up with her.
“You see, we operate the largest store,” she said. “We also have the post office.” She sighed. “It’s enough to keep a body busy. Mr. Tabor is involved in politics, and that’s a demand that won’t let the poor man hardly finish a meal.”
Amy reflected on the note in Augusta’s voice, guessing she was both proud and sad. Glancing at Amy, Augusta continued, “There’s this new problem over slavery come up. I suppose he’ll be spending too much time on that. It’s making people in Buckskin uneasy to have the only newspaper pushing southern sympathy. Right now Tabor’s in Denver City.” She dropped her voice, as she continued. “He confided to me that there’s big worries in Denver City, too. The factions are pulling the place to pieces.”
“Factions?” Amy murmured uncertainly.
“The North and South. Those for slavery and those against,” she added impatiently. “Doesn’t help there’s so much talk about the states seceding from the Union right now. The bad feelings are rising. He’s saying there’s going to
be terrible pressure brought to bear on people to side with the South. Right now there’s a push to get a good strong militia.”
“That seems strange,” Amy said slowly. “We’re awfully far away from the southern states. Surely there’ll never be war here.”
“Don’t count on that,” Augusta added; “my husband says the state of Texas is mighty close and those Texas Rangers won’t rest until they get their thumbs on us.”
They had reached the edge of the settlement; as Augusta led the way through the meadow toward the river, she pointed out the wild flowers. “There’s Indian paint brush; see the wild columbine?”
With a deep sigh she paused, hands on hips. “Have you ever seen anything as pretty as the wild iris in bloom? There, close to the marshy section. You know, I love this country. Didn’t think I would, but the beauty of the place stole my heart. Look at that white cap on the mountain. Stays covered with snow all summer.”
She started toward the bank of the river. “Come look. They don’t use these things much anymore, but it’s interesting.” She stopped and pointed. “That’s an arrastra. The Spanish explorers brought them in over a hundred years ago when they first found gold here. There’s several hereabouts, and some of the men still use them.”
Amy stopped to watch the ragged miner walking around a large rock on the edge of the creek. Augusta added, “See the depression in the rock and the shaft sticking up? He’s putting ore into the depression, and that rock chained to the pole will be pulled around and around. It pulverizes the ore; then the worthless waste floats out while the gold sinks to the bottom.”
They started back toward the post office. Augusta said, “Well, you’ve seen it all now, even the new nine-stamp mill going up for the Phillips Lode.”
“Does Mr. Tabor have a claim hereabouts?” Amy asked.
“Oh, my yes,” Augusta answered quickly. “That’s why we came.” She sighed heavily and added, “Not that I’m crazy about the whole idea. Running the grocery and even boarding a few men is all right with me, but I don’t have any desire to get rich. I wish he could be happy with what he has. He keeps telling me, ‘Augusta, we’re going to be rich,’ and just as often I say, ‘I wouldn’t give a nickel’s worth of my time for all the diggings. We’ll be happier if you forget the whole foolish dream.’ Of course he won’t.”