Colorado Gold

by Marian Wells

  “Aunt Clara, do you want me to stay up here tonight? You’re—”

  “Jest fine.” She leaned back against the pillows and now the shrewd old eyes were studying Amy’s face. “I’ve been hearing things, child. Amy, do ya’ll know the difference between angel men and demon men?”

  “One’s—”

  She was nodding her head. “It’s what the Lord has done in them through the blood of Jesus. You rear up and flaunt yourself, and you become like the devil. You get on your knees and plead with the Father, and He cleans out your old heart and makes it all new. That’s the overcomers through the blood of the Lamb.”

  She settled back in bed, and Amy prepared to leave. Abruptly she spoke again. “Amy, what are you craving? I mistrust cravings a whole lot. Go home and read Ephesians, chapter two and verse three.”

  Amy went home without any intention of reading. But she was frowning. It was serious, Aunt Clara ranting on and on about religion.

  She asked Eli, “Do you think she’s dying?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Of course not. She’ll be fine.” He looked at Amy, frowning as he said, “If you’re deciding she sounded—irrational, well, there’s been few women I esteem more than Aunt Clara.” After another pause he added, “A Bible scholar, yes. I do believe she has more Bible heart-knowledge than anyone I’ve ever known.”

  Before going to bed, Amy looked up Ephesians and read: Children of disobedience…fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind…by nature children of wrath…But God who is rich in mercy—As she crawled into her bunk she was thinking of Lucas, of his passionate kiss, and that dream. Like mother, like daughter.

  Chapter 30

  The February storm was over and the sun came out. But while the tempo of life in the mountain communities picked up, snow remained packed on the streets and the breath of the horses and burros crusted frost around their muzzles. At the store they were calling it unusually cold for nearly spring.

  Aunt Clara regained strength slowly. As Amy continued to make frequent trips up the hill, she discovered the old bond between the two of them had forged into a link more durable than ever. Amy was allowing Aunt Clara to say things to her that she wouldn’t have allowed a year ago. And Aunt Clara’s honesty was creating questions in Amy that couldn’t be dealt with easily. Yet for some reason she didn’t understand, she felt an inner urge for more.

  On the last day Amy helped with the laundry and ironing, she asked, “Aunt Clara, you keep talking about angel people and devil people. Tell me more.”

  Clara was sitting at the table sewing on buttons and stitching up rips in a pile of blue woolen shirts. She looked up, and her brow wrinkled, “Amy, you’re asking me to put words to things I thought you understood, being the daughter of a preacher. Don’t you see the difference in people? There’s some who act like the devil; Jesus told the Pharisees they’d proved the devil was their father because His word didn’t have room in them.”

  As she pushed the iron over the shirt, Amy asked, “Then what makes a person an angel person?”

  “Why the person who asks the Lord to clean him up on the inside, taking out all the old Adam so’s he can live for the Lord with a pure heart.”

  A moment later, Aunt Clara said, “Amy, I see clear as day that you don’t believe this old lady, thinking I don’t know what I’m talking about.” She leaned forward, “But I do. What do you see when you look at me?”

  “A very sweet person,” Amy said, reaching out to pat the dark hand.

  “Do you think I came by it natural? How’d you feel, being taken from your family and put to work in the fields, pulled away from your loved ones and forced to go where you didn’t want to go and do what you didn’t want to do?”

  She stitched at the rip with three short jabs of her needle. “Never knew a happy day ’til I let the Lord wash out the bitterness and set my eyes on the Lord Jesus and Him only.” In another moment, after more stitches, she added softly, “You’ll never be content, Amy child, ’til you want the Lord more’n anything, ’til you go running after Him with your whole heart. Seems then, even being a slave isn’t important.”

  Aunt Clara no longer needed her. Amy’s restless spirit and flattened pocketbook sent her tramping the streets of Central City, looking for work again.

  Lucas had been rebuffed for the last time. In one final painful scene, she convinced him she would no longer be seen with him. Now the only reminder of that foolish time was the violet velvet hanging in her closet.

  But that dress made escape to Kansas impossible. Even with her hoard of piano money, there wasn’t enough.

  With spring here, Central City, as well as the other high mountain mining camps, was welcomed back into the world. Freight wagons once again moved through town, dropping off the goods that had been stacked in storage all winter. And on the return trip, the wagon carried a load of the first ore from the mines.

  Stage coach runs resumed, and with them came packets of mail and piles of newspapers, all dated before the storm.

  Amy carried one newspaper home—a December paper; she wouldn’t have bothered except for the bold headline: BUCKSKIN JOE BATTLES SMALLPOX EPIDEMIC. She searched the later papers but could find nothing except a brief note mentioning a telegraphed plea from Buckskin Joe for nurses.

  When Eli Randolph returned from Russell Gulch, Amy showed him the newspaper. “I’d heard it too.” He gave her a quick glance, “I suppose you have friends over that way.”

  “Yes.” Her voice was low. “The Tabors; I stayed at their home. But most of the others I knew by sight. Those that came into the post office, and—” She stopped. To go on would mean she must mention Lizzie, Silverheels, and playing the piano at the Grand Hotel.

  Eli hung up his coat. Looking at Amy with a worried frown, he said, “I’ll be going to missionary meeting in Denver City the end of February. Come along, if you like. You might be able to make inquiries about your friends.”

  Amy nodded slowly. “That would be nice. I’d like to look for a job there, too. I’ve exhausted every possibility in Central City.” She saw him wince and added, “Father, I can’t continue to stay here with nothing to do.”

  “I suppose,” he said slowly. “It’s just that I’m thinking of your welfare. Denver City still isn’t the place for a decent woman. For any law-abiding person. Last time I was there I saw a duel in the street, a foolish quarrel over a horse and saddle. They carted off one killed and the other wounded. He’ll never be a whole man again.”

  But before they left for the missionary conference, Daniel came. Amy had been walking down the hill from Aunt Clara’s cabin when she saw the lanky rider turn in at the Randolph cabin. She stopped in the middle of the road, wondering about the urgency she sensed as he dismounted and hurried to the cabin. He turned; with a shock Amy recognized him. She pressed her hand against her throat, feeling both elation and despair.

  He had come—but why? That last night in Buckskin Joe had dashed all hopes. They had parted cool strangers despite his promise to return.

  Slowly she continued down the hill, trying to compose herself. As she approached the cabin, Amy saw Daniel standing in the doorway, his hands braced against the doorposts. Although she couldn’t see her father, she knew he was there.

  Daniel’s mare stood neglected, trailing her reins as she nibbled at the melting snow. With another perplexed glance at the house, Amy turned aside to care for the mare. She stopped when she heard Daniel talking. “Sir, I just found out. I’ve come as soon as I could ride out of Denver City. I knew you’d want to go with me.”

  Father’s voice came, “Son, come in and sit down. What has upset you?”

  Daniel still leaned in the doorway. His words were terse. “Just arrived in Denver City when I began hearing about Buckskin Joe. It happened in November, after Father Dyer and I left. Smallpox. They say it was like wildfire. First a dance-hall girl, then half the town coming down at once.

  “The newspapers said the women and children were moved to Fairpl
ay, but those taken with the pox stayed behind. There was a plea for help. I saw in the papers where several nurses went, but that wasn’t enough. Many died.” Daniel’s head went down on his arm. Before Amy could speak, he straightened and added, “I wired Fairplay to check the survivors there. Amy wasn’t among them. I’m going now to search for her. Thought you might want—”

  “Son!” Amy could see her father prying himself out of the chair and moving across the room. In that one stunned moment, the name Silverheels flashed through her. So the newspaper stories weren’t just rumor.

  The men turned, and she heard Daniel say her name. Looking up, she saw his face ashen, his shoulders trembling.

  Slowly she walked to him, unable to look away from his face. Suddenly she knew she wouldn’t leave Colorado, not while Daniel was here. She lifted her hands and he caught them. For a moment his lips trembled. He pressed them together and then gasped, “Amy—I, I didn’t know you’d left.” He turned, gulped and looked at her again.

  “I just decided to leave,” she said, forcing the light words past the lump in her throat. “It seemed best. I didn’t know about the smallpox until we saw a newspaper.”

  Daniel sighed heavily. Eli said, “Come in and close the door.”

  “The mare—” Amy said.

  “I’ll care for her.” Daniel touched her arm and she looked up at him. The color seemed to be coming back into his face, but there were still lines of strain around his mouth.

  Later she discovered the explosion of feeling had left its mark. When Daniel came back to the cabin, awkwardness surrounded them all. He paced the floor, answering their questions curtly. Although he was nearly reeling with fatigue, he said, “I’ll just ride on tonight.”

  “No, son, you won’t.” Eli’s voice was gentle. “We have an extra straw tick to put down. I think you need to rest at least tomorrow. I’ll leave first thing in the morning for a meeting at Russell Gulch. But if you’ll stay, I’ll see you Thursday.”

  “Father!” Amy protested.

  He looked mildly surprised. “Well, he’s part of the family now. If you two plan to scrap, then you’ll have the cabin to yourself, and I won’t have to listen.”

  He clapped Daniel on the shoulder. Daniel didn’t look up, but Amy had the distinct feeling there was a bond between the two that she didn’t understand. Also she was aware of a new feeling. She wanted Daniel to stay.

  In the morning, after Father left, Amy studied out the matter, trying to decide how to coax Daniel into remaining.

  I could just say it: I love you. Please, Daniel, forgive me. While she washed the dishes, he fed and watered his mare and returned to the cabin.

  “I need to get going,” he said as he packed his bag. “It’s a long ride over the mountains and I want to start before there’s a possibility of storm. It rolls pretty fast over these peaks,” he added, as if Amy didn’t know.

  She hung the towel over the stove to dry and took a deep breath. The light touch seemed out, and certainly begging on bended knee was ridiculous. “At least stay until I walk to the store for bread and cheese. There’s spice cake and some bacon too.”

  Tucking his Bible into the bag he nodded. Looking up he said, “I’d appreciate that.” And then his eyes were changing. Inside, Amy cried, Why? You love me, and I am starting to find I can’t live without you.

  He hesitated, touching the Bible again, he asked slowly, “Amy, if I’m not pushing where I shouldn’t, would you mind telling me what you believe? This morning while we were reading Scripture I felt such wonder in your voice as you read Ephesians 3:17. Do you know the reality of Christ dwelling in your heart?”

  Reluctantly she admitted, “Daniel, I joined the church when I was very young. I said, ‘Yes, I believe Jesus Christ is my Savior.’ Is that what you mean?”

  “Ephesians?” he urged.

  Slowly she replied, “I felt as if I were reading it for the first time, and I wondered at it all. Awe, I guess. It’s the bigness of the love of Christ. Breadth, length, depth and height. Those words are almost a song. And what is the fullness of God?”

  Daniel was quoting softly, with a light in his eyes she couldn’t understand. “‘Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask…. Unto him be glory …’” His voice was husky as he said, “Amy, read Colossians; it will tell you. It says that Jesus has all the fullness, and that He has made peace through the giving of His blood on the cross in order to reconcile us—that means to bring us back to where we belong, to God.

  “Amy, do you have peace? Are you aware of being reconciled to God, complete in Jesus Christ?” He paused and then added, “Christ in you, the hope of glory.”

  “Glory?” she asked. “Doesn’t that mean heaven?”

  Daniel was nodding as he got to his feet. “Come, I’ll walk with you to the store, and then I must go.”

  Disappointment flattened the thoughts crowding into Amy’s mind. With a sigh she stood up and followed Daniel to the door. When they reached the road, Daniel took Amy’s hand and pulled it through his arm. Gladly she fell into step with him, but glancing up, she was surprised by the lines of strain on his face. It seemed he had forgotten her already.

  They had just stepped onto the boardwalk in front of Joe’s store when Amy heard her name. She turned. Lucas Tristram came down the street, tall white hat in hand. He smiled happily as he extended his hand.

  As she gave him her hand, she said, “Lucas, I’d like you to meet my husband, Daniel Gerrett.”

  His smile faded as he turned to Daniel. “I remember you. Lost your father a couple years ago. I was the one who bought your mine. It’s doing very well—took out close to a hundred thousand last year.

  “Haven’t seen you since then.” Tristram glanced down at Amy. “But we’ve been enjoying the company of your wife this winter. Central City is starting to blossom culturally, and Amy is a welcome addition. I hope you’ve been encouraging her to develop her talents. By next year we plan to get some theatrical groups started. She’ll be my first promotional project.” His possessive smile was making Amy uneasy.

  She glanced at Daniel’s face as Lucas’s smooth voice caught her attention again. She saw him looking at Daniel’s shabby jacket. His smile was patronizing as he added, “She deserves the finest, and I don’t mind telling you I’ll do my best to make that possible.”

  She felt Daniel’s arm tighten and she tugged. “Lucas, please excuse us. Daniel is in a hurry to get on the road.”

  Meeting Lucas made a difference. Amy saw the shadows in Daniel’s eyes as they returned to the cabin.

  Amy chattered too much; Daniel listened and was silent. When he accepted the lunch, Amy’s hand lingered on his arm. He hesitated and she pushed her head against his shoulder, there was his light kiss on her cheek.

  She followed as he mounted the mare. “I’ll see you at missionary convention,” he said. She nodded, her heart aching with all the other things that could have been said. I’m sorry, Daniel, so sorry. A moment passed. He turned to fumble with the reins.

  With a twisted smile he said, “Looks like Tristram is pretty stiff competition. More’n I can take.” The hot denial rose to Amy’s lips; then memory caught her. Her cheeks burned. Wordlessly she looked into Daniel’s face, and he turned away.

  Chapter 31

  The wheels of Eli Randolph’s old wagon creaked, providing a backdrop to Amy’s thoughts, emphasizing the words she wanted most to forget. And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you. Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear children; And walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us, and hath given himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God …

  As the wagon jogged along, Amy thought back over the past month when she would take her Bible and make the trip up the hill to Aunt Clara’s. It had started the day after Daniel left, and because of his urging her to read Colossians. She had thought to please him by reading the Bible, but she was beginning to
regret all those days spent with Aunt Clara.

  Eli interrupted her musings, saying, “Amy, you’re uncommonly quiet. Having big thoughts you want to air?”

  “I’m not certain. I’ve been doing lots of thinking lately—about life. Father, don’t you think Aunt Clara is too—” She couldn’t finish the thought.

  His expression made her uncomfortable. Slowly he said, “Aunt Clara enjoys the goodness of the Lord in a way we don’t see too often. Is that what’s bothering you?”

  “She’s pretty set in her ways.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Several weeks ago, we were discussing what it means to be Christian. I don’t think she’s convinced I’m Christian. I’ve started taking my Bible up to her house and we’ve been reading together. Father, is it possible for a person to take the Bible differently, to come out with a meaning that’s altogether different? She called it distorting it.”

  He flipped the reins across the backs of the lagging team and pursed his mouth. “Being human, we always see what we want to see. That’s the correcting value of Scripture—if we believe it’s God talking to us, and if we follow instruction. Amy, it’s always good to be reviewing our beliefs, making certain that what we hold in our minds is truth according to God’s Word.”

  “Then it isn’t enough to just confess you’re a Christian and belong to a church that teaches the Bible?”

  “Well, the Bible says we must believe in our hearts, and that belief is proven by our obedience to God.” There was a perplexed frown growing on his face, and Amy was begining to regret bringing up the subject.

  “Father, don’t look so disapproving. I haven’t thrown out all the teachings. It’s just that she asked such questions. Some scripture I read makes me uneasy because I don’t understand.”