Colorado Gold

by Marian Wells

  “Never mind. You needn’t; she’s—”

  “Lizzie, on the contrary,” a voice interrupted. “I would like to meet your friend. Dear child, you do have a talent. It makes me happy to see you use it.” Amy turned toward the open door behind her. Through the shadows she watched the woman beside the fireplace rise and come toward her. Amy could see the woman was tall and slender—beautiful. By the light of the fire she could see the pale gleam of hair, piled high and cascading in curls.

  Even in the shadowy room there was something familiar about the woman. Amy frowned, trying to dig back into her memory. Then she shook her head and said, “You’ve been good to let me use the piano. I—” Amy hesitated, “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

  “Well, I’m not called madame.” She gave a derisive twist to the words and added a low throaty chuckle before saying, “I’d answer more quickly if you call me Silverheels.”

  “Silverheels—I thought you looked familiar! I met you in Denver City. Remember the woodpile?”

  The woman’s smile thawed slightly. “I do. You’ve changed. Such a skinny little thing you were; now you’ve the marks of being a beautiful woman.” Her smile was mocking and her eyes dancing with glee. For a moment Amy expected the woman to offer her a job. Feeling awkward, she headed for the door.

  As Amy left the boardinghouse, the men and the girls were trooping into the parlor. She stood on the steps and drew on her mittens, listening critically. Lizzie was back on the piano stool, playing a polka. Lizzie is good, but now I’m better, she thought.

  The day she walked into the Grand Hotel, Amy bolstered her courage by clinging to that memory. But as soon as she entered the parlor, nothing existed beyond the beautiful piano.

  Swishing up to the front desk, just as Lizzie had instructed, Amy asked for Mr. Mayer. While she waited, Amy smoothed the silk frock she wore and wondered how much of her confidence was due to Augusta’s gown.

  Unbidden came the memory of that conversation with Mrs. Tabor. As she mulled over it, Amy wondered why it seemed so necessary to hide Lizzie’s part in the affair. Why had Augusta asked those probing questions, and why had she wanted to know what she could play?

  She had thrust Lizzie’s borrowed music into Augusta’s hands, and had given answers to clear the troubled frown from Augusta’s face. Later Augusta had given her the gown—gray, not a bird of paradise color. Augusta had stamped the word respectable on it all.

  Now Amy followed Mr. Mayer to the ballroom, its bare floors and peeled log walls warmed by a scrap of carpet, deep wine velvet draperies, china lamps decorated with gilt and painted roses—and that piano. Amy stroked the shiny dark mahogany and reverently touched the gleaming keys. She forgot all else. Now this was her piano, nothing else could be important.

  Soon, nearly as often as Amy played, Mr. Mayer came, bearing piles of sheet music clutched in his pudgy fist.

  By the first week of October the peaks surrounding Buckskin Joe were pristine white with the first heavy snow of the season. But in town, the same storm had merely dusted a fine powder. The snow that hung on the brown meadow grasses like garlands of tinsel disappeared as soon as the sun touched it.

  The day after the storm, Daniel Gerrett walked into Buckskin Joe with Father Dyer’s snowshoes hanging from his shoulders. He looked around at the fast disappearing snow. Recalling his hike across Mosquito Pass, while Father Dyer rode his mare toward Denver City, Daniel had to grin.

  The first miner he met inquired of the grin and the snowshoes. He pointed to the glistening white mountains and explained, “Too deep to take a horse across.”

  With a frown the man replied, “Horses’ legs are longer than yours.”

  “But when I wear these I have bigger feet.”

  The fellow was still frowning as Daniel headed for Father Dyer’s cabin. As he leaned the snowshoes against the cabin, he was thinking he should have made some inquiries—but on the other hand, maybe not.

  Restlessly Daniel moved around the cabin. He started a fire, checked out the supply of beans and cornmeal in the tin lard pails, and thumped the straw mattress covering the bunk. By the time he had finished settling in and preparing his evening meal, it was dark.

  “Chicken,” he muttered, “just like a stupid chicken running from the ducks.” But he couldn’t deny the reluctance he felt. “Dyer advised the trip. You were willing to go clawing your way over the pass. Now you haven’t the gumption to walk down to the post office and say hello.”

  He decided to go to the Tabors’ place. Dyer had said it was close to the store, and that it was a two-story building. It shouldn’t be hard to find.

  When he left the cabin the moon was topping the snow-covered peaks. The town lay on the hill below Dyer’s cabin. As he walked, Daniel could make out the bulk of the stamp mill. The glow of lamplight identified the scattering of cabins and made it easy to guess the direction the road took. In the distance, close to the shadow of the mountain, stood a large structure, lights streaming from every window.

  “Must be the Tabors’ boardinghouse over that way,” Daniel muttered. Changing direction he headed across the meadow. As he walked along, he mused aloud, “Strange to stick a boardinghouse so far out of town.” With a shrug he headed up the path.

  When Daniel opened the front door, he hesitated. A long blank hallway stretched in front of him. There were two closed doors, one on each side of the hall. From behind one door came the low murmur of voices. Just as he started toward the door, the one behind him opened with a crash and a woman surged through.

  Daniel stepped backward just in time to collide with the woman. She murmured, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you. I’ll find someone to dance with you.”

  She turned to go and Daniel stretched out his hand, but just as abruptly he dropped it. That sleeve he had nearly touched was as fragile and transparent as the wings of a moth. He felt his face warm as he began to understand. “I—uh, I’m looking for Amy Randolph Gerrett. I suppose I’ve come to the wrong place.”

  The woman turned slowly. There was something changing in her face. As he watched, he realized she wasn’t young.

  The words came slowly. “Amy Randolph Gerrett.” Abruptly she tossed her head and looked him in the eyes. “I know her. Mister, I have an idea you can find your young lady in town at the Grand Hotel.” She turned with a swish and Daniel saw the impudent flash of black stockings and dancing shoes spiked with shining silver heels. The rainbow gauze of her skirts settled as she opened the door and disappeared.

  Daniel’s face was still burning as he hurried back through the meadow and turned toward the row of lights marking the road through Buckskin Joe. Tramping down the road, he discovered his thoughts were moving in a troubling circle. That woman said the Grand Hotel. Dyer had said the Tabors’ boardinghouse.

  The music from the hotel attracted his attention. Daniel stopped in the middle of the street and caught his breath. She had sung for him just that one time, but the memory of her voice was still with him. This was Amy singing.

  Slowly he walked through the door, wondering at the song he was hearing. Daniel hesitated in the lobby, looked at the man behind the counter, and then turned to follow the voice.

  “Down in the valley, the valley so low…. If you don’t love me, love whom you please…. Angels in heaven know I love you.”

  The last plaintive phrases were fading away when Daniel stepped into the room. The woman at the piano played another melancholy chord, paused, then swung into a polka.

  Later he watched her toss her head at the applause. He saw the flash of her smile as she bent over the keyboard. He continued to study her. The smooth, blonde braid he remembered had become a cascade of curls that moved with the music. Her frock was soft gray, of a fabric that seemed to have become part of her body.

  Daniel sighed with regret as he watched. He stood there in the doorway a moment longer before he turned slowly and went back the way he had come.

  Chapter 20

  “You went all t
hat way and didn’t speak to her, why?” Father Dyer frowned.

  Daniel was stunned. “What should I say? That I’d found out a dance-hall gal knew her. Remember, I saw my wife dressed in a way I couldn’t afford, singing and playing worldly songs for a dance. I don’t know what to think, except she’s—Dyer, I’ve got a call to preach the Gospel, I can’t have a wife like that.”

  Dyer winced. “You’ve heard me enough to know I’m convinced dancing is something the devil stayed up all night inventing. This old preacher may not have enough education to pick the minds of great men, but I know sin when I see it.”

  Daniel watched Dyer close his mouth into a tight line. For a long time he sat with his chin resting on his chest. When he lifted his head, he asked, “Do I detect a bit of pride? Talking about your call?”

  Daniel wilted in his chair and thought about it. Dyer cleared his throat. His keen eyes bored into Daniel. “Another thing. I thought you sounded like a jealous husband, huffing outta there without even a kiss.”

  Daniel rubbed his neck and muttered. “I guess I was fussed about a couple of things. She seemed to be doing fine without me. And she was dressed pretty fancy for a poor girl.”

  “Maybe she’s digging gold. Maybe she’s rich. Were you expecting a hungry barefoot gal to come running back to your arms? Is that what you want, a defeated wife without a place to go? Maybe Amy took off because she’s trying to grow up.”

  Daniel digested Dyer’s words in silence. When he took a deep breath and looked at Dyer, the man said, “One thing I can’t get away from is the Spirit urging caution.” He glanced at Daniel. “Sometimes I feel the Lord doesn’t judge nearly as harshly as we do. On the other hand, He’s the only one seeing the true picture. Son, give the Lord time to work. Don’t make a hasty decision.”

  Daniel slowly said, “Eli told me to forget about her.”

  “Her father?” John’s voice sounded strained. “I—oh, never mind.” Finally he got to his feet. “Daniel, there’s missionary meeting in Denver City next week. Let’s go. I’ve had something in mind for several weeks now. Right now, I’m reluctant to broach the subject. Could be if we have a week together riding the trails and going to services, I may be able to persuade you.”

  “About what?”

  “Coming to Buckskin Joe with me the first of November and holding a revival service. That’s a tough district and I need help. My idea is while you preach, I pray and then while I preach you pray. By the way, this isn’t the first I’ve thought of it. Felt the Spirit urge before—”

  Daniel was shaking his head as he got to his feet. “After being there this past week, I can’t face it again.”

  “Even for her sake? Boy, I don’t know what the Lord has in mind. I just feel this is right.”

  When Daniel looked at Dyer, he felt his face twist. He asked, “You’ll be preaching the whole Book of Hosea to me, huh, John?”

  “Maybe so. The prophet forgave his wife and took her back.”

  Daniel’s head jerked. “I’m not accusing her of anything—it’s just that there doesn’t seem to be room in her life for me.”

  They borrowed a horse for Dyer and started for Denver City in a driving snowstorm. When they came down out of the storm, Dyer shook the snow from his collar and straightened in the saddle.

  “I have this little portable organ,” Dyer said. “Knowing my thoughts about the dance, how do you think I felt when I discovered some of my best folk were borrowing the organ while I was outta town and playing it at their dances?”

  “I guess you felt like dumping them.”

  “Somehow, I didn’t think that was what the Lord wanted.”

  When they reached the outskirts of Denver City, Dyer pulled on the reins and turned to Daniel. “They called it log city for a time. It’s sprucing up now. See that fancy place over there? That belongs to a woman named Ada LaMont. Ever heard of her?”

  Daniel shook his head. “I was told the story of her last year by a fellow who knew Ada and her husband well back east,” Dyer said. “First off, the fellow said Ada was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She was only seventeen when she married a young preacher. Seems, the fellow said, that Ada was a good woman, happy with being the parson’s wife.

  “Well, Parson LaMont felt the call to come out here in ’59 when all the miners were following the rush. They started out, but somewhere out in Nebraska, one night the parson just disappeared. His bride had no idea what had happened. The wagon train spent the next day looking for him. Seems, too, that there was a female in the train with a pretty shady reputation. She also was missing.”

  Dyer was silent for a moment before he said, “Mrs. LaMont finished the trip in a state of terrible depression, but on the day they arrived in Denver City, she stood herself up in the wagon and yelled to the people: ‘You see me now as a God-fearing lady: I tell you, take a good look, because from this time on I intend to run a pleasure palace. Any of you men looking for a good time, my tent flap is always open.’” Dyer paused and pointed to the imposing house. “Seems she did well in her new occupation. But I shudder everytime I think of her. She threw her defiance in God’s face, and I’m fearful she’ll be broken in the end.”

  The two of them rode in silence until finally Dyer raised his head and shook it. Daniel watched him curiously, wondering at the sad expression on Dyer’s face. “Something about the gold fever. Makes the worst come out in a man. God hasn’t given up. He’s sending us out to pick up the men and dust ’em off, give ’em another chance.”

  “We’re getting close to the Elephant Corral, aren’t we?” Daniel asked. “I’ve been studying out that bunch up ahead. See them milling around that store?”

  Dyer squinted. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s a Confederate flag hanging across the front of the store. Let’s go see what’s happening.”

  They reached the store as the crowd erupted into catcalls, a quick scuffle, and then a cheer. A man was hoisted onto a barrel.

  “Well at least there’s no shooting,” Dyer remarked.

  “Looks only half serious,” Daniel added. They were close enough to hear the man on the barrel. Daniel reined in his horse.

  “There’ll be no rebel flag flown in Colorado Territory,” the man was saying. “The majority wins, and that’s a vote for the Union. If you fellows want to fly your flag, head for Missouri. We might can get up an escort for you.” There were good-natured boos and catcalls and Daniel guided his horse away from the crowd.

  “Guess that’s the end of the war in Colorado Territory,” Daniel said with a chuckle.

  Dyer’s face was serious. “Let’s hope so. Lad, there’s a great deal of fear that southern sympathies will get a foothold.”

  “You mean there’d be fighting here?”

  “Possibly. Right now Colorado is a powder keg. The Texas Rangers are pushing on one door and the Indians are getting restless. We need every man to defend the territory.”

  Daniel nodded. “I can’t help being uneasy about the Indian problems. Been here long enough to know the settlers and Washington aren’t living up to the promises they’ve been making to the Indians.

  “We were the intruders. I can’t buy that idea of Manifest Destiny. They’re God’s creation too, and we’re not a bit better than they are. If we don’t do some giving pretty soon, we’ll all be killing each other off.”

  “I’m hoping for an opening to move south to minister to the Mexicans,” Dyer said. “Likewise, perhaps someday there’ll be an opening for honest work among the Indians.”

  He added, “Well, there’s the church just ahead. Seems to be a good crowd moving in already.”

  “I see Eli Randolph,” Daniel replied. “I need to do some talking with him.” As he slipped from his horse and started after the man, Daniel saw the quick flash of sympathy in Dyer’s eyes.

  Eli was just walking away from the corral when Daniel caught up with him. With a sharp pang of regret, Daniel noticed how the man’s shoulders drooped.

  “Sir,” D
aniel wrapped the reins around his hand and waited until Eli turned. “I need to talk to you. Should it be now or later?” He saw the man hesitate. A shadow dulled his eyes as he studied Daniel’s face.

  He turned away, saying, “Better make it now. I don’t know what I’ll be doing once meeting starts.”

  Daniel corralled his horse and followed Eli through the grounds to the line of cottonwoods beside the creek. Abruptly he started, “It’s about Amy. I’ve found her, and I don’t know what to think.”

  When he finished with his story, Eli sat down on a stump and stared at his clasped hands. If I’d expected to find hope, Daniel thought, just looking at him ruins it all.

  Slowly Daniel hauled forward a stump of firewood and sat down. Eli lifted his head but he didn’t meet Daniel’s eyes. “Son, I think I’ve done you a disservice by not telling you the whole story. I gave you good advice; now I’m just sorry you found her. I’m supposing you’ll not be able to forget her until you hear the whole thing.”

  Daniel flung himself off the stump and grasped Eli’s shoulder. “Forget! Sir, I don’t want to hear anything bad about Amy. Even if things can’t be straightened out, I still love her and I don’t want to know anything to change it all. There might be a time in the future—”

  “You don’t understand.” Eli was looking him in the eyes now. “I’m not talking about Amy. It’s her mother.”

  Slowly Daniel sat on the stump. As Eli began to talk, Daniel felt as if he had slipped through a closed door. Seeing the pain in the man’s eyes, he wished the door had never been forced.

  “Amy’s mother was the prettiest little girl I’ve ever seen in my life. She was the daughter of a couple who attended the first church I ever pastored, back in Arkansas Territory. Folks are dead now, and her brothers drifted off, went west years ago.” Daniel knew he was rambling and waited patiently.

  Eli lifted his head. “I was more’n twice her age. You’d think I’d had better sense. She was a little child in a woman’s body. I didn’t know that until we were married. I don’t think she’d had a childhood, and Amy was her doll.” He was silent. Daniel saw the faraway expression in his eyes was tender.