Colorado Gold

by Marian Wells

  They both were silent, alone in their thoughts. Amy’s emotions had flattened, but one heavy burden remained upon her heart. Finally Daniel sighed and moved away from her. “Do you need to do something?”

  Reluctantly she nodded. “It bothers me still. For a time I tried to stay angry with her in order to avoid thinking about it. But—” she shrugged.

  “I think you’d better say it.”

  “I must tell her I’m sorry, ask her forgiveness, and Daniel, now there’s something else. All of a sudden I feel so responsible. She may be in need. I must help her, even if she doesn’t want me around.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “I’ll go. I have enough money to take the stage to Buckskin Joe.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Daniel said in a matter-of-fact voice. “I will try to borrow a buggy from a friend and we can be up there in a few hours’ time.”

  He was nearly to the door when he stopped. “Amy, what about your father?”

  She blinked. “Well, I don’t think he’ll mind at all. He’s been pushing us together every chance he gets.” Daniel was frowning and Amy whispered, “Oh, that isn’t what you meant—” A new question formed in his eyes, but she turned away from it, asking, “What did you mean?”

  “Silverheels.”

  “You’re saying I should tell him,” Amy said slowly. This was something she hadn’t considered. She turned from Daniel to pace the floor. “She asked me not to tell him.” Amy caught her breath, added, “She told me she didn’t want Father coming after her.” Amy chewed at her lip and added, “Right now I don’t feel inclined to talk to him about it.” He waited and she added, “Yes, I’ve been angry about that, too. But if you insist, I’ll write a note. That’ll mean we must leave soon, before he comes back.”

  “I think it’s important,” Daniel said slowly. “There’s a possibility she’s no longer living, but if she is, your father may need to see her, too. At least, I feel this isn’t something we should hide from him.”

  In a moment Amy nodded. “I guess that’s the right thing to do.”

  “I’ll go see Mac at the livery stable. Better pack a bag.”

  That question flashed in his eyes again, and Amy came to him. “Daniel, you’re not beholden to me for anything. This, us, was all a bad mistake from the beginning. I won’t cling to you.”

  “Amy, say no more.” His voice was sharp. “You’re not forcing this upon me. Don’t forget, I’ve got an interest in Silverheels. She’s—worthy because Christ died for her too.” He paused, adding, “As for us, let’s agree to just forget everything for now. Even the fact that we’re married. We could pretend to be strangers, just getting to be friends.”

  Amy was trembling as the door closed behind Daniel. She wiped her fingers across her eyes and considered her sore heart. “Daniel’s thinking I prayed like that because I was trying to get him. Never.” As her voice broke in a half sob, the new realization rushed over her.

  She cocked her head, beginning now to smile. It was a gentle urge. It had been there before, but she had paid no heed. It was the urge to pray. Just like the elder had said last night. He was Lord and friend now, and He wanted her prayer. Her lips were still soft with the smile as she whispered, “Lord Jesus, thank you for being with me. I really believe in your presence, and that is so good!”

  With a sigh she got up to look for the paper and pencil in her bag. When she sat down to write, she had to search for words. It was difficult. The words came out stiff and stilted. “Dear Father. It seems Daniel and I must go to Buckskin Joe immediately. We’ve word that the dance-hall woman they call Silverheels has disappeared. When we return, I’ll tell you all about it, but for now I must say that I’ve discovered Silverheels is my mother. There is no doubt about it. Please don’t worry; Daniel will be there to take care of me.” She signed her name; then with a touch of irony in her voice, she said, “He’ll be there to take care of me—whether or not he likes it.”

  Daniel came in. “Ready? I’ll get my bag. Where’s your blanket roll? If we go to Father Dyer’s, we’ll need it.”

  “I guessed that.” She picked up her bag, adding, “I’ve left the note on the table. Mrs. Cummings will see he gets it.”

  It was only ten o’clock in the morning, but the streets of Denver City were filled with people, animals, and every kind of conveyance possible. When they reached the business district, they found a group of Indians parading slowly through the center of town. Fascinated, Amy watched them, caught by their stoic dignity. She studied their colorful warbonnets and ceremonial dress, and shivered.

  “Daniel,” she murmured, “they act as if this parade is of deep significance to them, and look at the people around them. It’s as if the settlers don’t know they’re here. Do you suppose they are planning a fight?”

  “Arapahoes,” Daniel said, shaking his head as he watched the Indians. “See the women’s horses dragging the tepee poles? Those cross bars are added to carry children and baggage. The contraption is called a travois. It’s an efficient way to travel if you don’t have wheels.”

  “The beadwork on that woman’s blouse is beautiful,” Amy murmured.

  “From the way they are dressed, and the presence of the women and children, I get the feeling they’re headed up South Park, the same way we’re going. Just might be there’s a squabble in the making. I’ve heard the Utes have been drifting into the territory for several weeks.”

  “Is there a danger?”

  “To us? I don’t think so,” Daniel answered. “For the most part, the Arapahoes have treated us better than we have them.”

  “April says her husband, James, has been attempting to make friends with them.” She added, “April doesn’t seem to mind being left alone, even with the Indians around.”

  Daniel gave her a quick glance, and Amy wondered why he smiled.

  They left town and started into the foothills. The horses were pulling the light carriage easily, and Daniel was pleased. “Good team. At this rate we’ll be in Fairplay before sundown.” He snapped the reins across the horses’ backs. “I wouldn’t mind having a rig like this. It would make traveling more pleasant, but then, I don’t have a need for such. Maybe someday.”

  Someday. Amy considered the word. There was promise, and perhaps a hint of yearning in the way he said it. She glanced at him, and he looked back with a grin.

  “What makes you so happy?” She asked curiously.

  “The day and having company. It’s unusual. I’ve traveled a lot of miles in the last six months, but few spent with company. I like this.”

  She found herself beaming back at him, feeling as giddy as a child over the unexpected holiday. But then the burden of the trip fell and she settled into her shawl, mulling over the emotions that alternately left her curious and angry. So the people at Buckskin tried to pay Silverheels. What could have happened to her? It seems everyone in the territory knows about Silverheels.

  She examined the situation and tried to feel proud, but all those other emotions churned. Amy looked at Daniel’s relaxed grin and felt her heart sink. How badly she wished to be back in Denver City! She searched for something to say, a way to make him talk.

  She toyed with the idea of telling Daniel of her experience this morning. For the first time God was a sweet, comforting presence. Good, not fearful. Would he understand? After a moment of studying his face, she was satisfied he would, yet she was caught, remembering his expression when she had foolishly misunderstood him.

  Her cheeks were burning. As her hands tightened into fists, she vowed that she would never throw herself at him again.

  “Daniel.” She took a deep breath, disliking the timid waver in her voice. “You said something about being friends. That would help; I wouldn’t feel so—”

  He glanced quickly. “Amy, I’ve never wanted you to feel that way.”

  “What way?”

  “Weren’t you going to say pressured?” She nodded, and he asked, “How would you want a friend to act?�
��

  “So friendly that he’d accept me no matter what I thought or said.”

  “About people like Silverheels and Lizzie? About wanting to play the piano even when Aunt Maude and the Methodists think it’s the devil’s invention?”

  She winced. “Piano. I suppose that’ll be one of the things I’ll need to give up. Surrender it at the feet of Jesus, as Aunt Clara would say.”

  “Would you mind?”

  “Too much.”

  They rode in silence and then Amy added, “This is an ugly thing, from beginning to end.” She looked at him and added, “Nice families just don’t have mothers who are prostitutes.”

  He looked at her. “Prostitutes are people Jesus loves too.”

  In a moment she added, “I’ll go. Do what must be done and then be gone forever.”

  “Forever? Amy, how will you feel if you find a sick woman who must have you in order to survive?”

  She considered all the implications of his statement. He was testing her confession of Christianity. Yet, she looked at him, thinking, It’s as if he’s testing himself. Dance-hall woman. Mother. And now, mother-in-law. That’s what she would be to Daniel.

  Poor Daniel. She considered what his life had become since she had stepped into it in her bumbling, willful way. Amy sighed heavily. I’m ashamed. How’ll the mess ever be righted?

  “Say it.”

  “You’ll have a prostitute for a mother-in-law.”

  He grinned at her. “You forget, we’re just friends.”

  She leaned forward and touched his sleeve. “Be serious, Daniel. Have you considered what this will do to your future?”

  “I just realized it. It would make good copy, wouldn’t it? Dance-hall woman accepts Christ and admits she’s the mother-in-law of the famous Colorado Territory missionary for the Methodist Episcopal Church.”

  Amy was still looking at Daniel as she said, “It’s a good thing you said ‘famous’—otherwise I would have been a friend and pushed you off the seat.”

  He winced. “Amy, we really don’t know each other very well, do we?”

  “No.” The words were coming almost against her will. “And I’m afraid we’ll know each other too well before this trip is over.”

  “Afraid? You don’t like the idea?”

  She considered herself. She was fearful of all the untried places in her life—untried since the decision this morning. How dare she trust herself after failing so miserably before? She felt the smile disappear from her face. I don’t trust myself. I love Daniel too much to let him see the real Amy. “No, I don’t.” He looked surprised, but said no more.

  Chapter 33

  It was dark when Amy and Daniel reached Buckskin Joe. When the carriage slowed and turned, bumping up the rocky road toward Buckskin, Amy yawned and tried to push away the dreamy state of near sleep in which she had been submerged for the past hour.

  She had been rearranging life into a pleasant scene where Daniel loved her passionately, and Silverheels wasn’t her mother. In this dream Silverheels admitted to having stolen the picture and fabricated the whole story in order to discredit them and bring shame upon them all. It had ended with Amy and Daniel rapidly riding eastward to Ohio, just as quickly as their steeds could pull their new carriage.

  She sat up and leaned forward. Buckskin didn’t seem to have changed, at least in the dark. There were lights in the Tabors’ boardinghouse, and the Grand Hotel fairly blazed with light. Daniel urged the horses on and quickly they headed up the incline to Father Dyer’s cabin.

  He was at home. Still bemused by her dream, Amy was momentarily disappointed. Father Dyer met them at the door, saying, “I heard the carriage and team. Wondered what glorious company I was having. Been a while since royalty’s visited.”

  “Well, royalty’s planning on staying a spell. I’ll explain as soon as I bed down these fillies.”

  Amy followed Father Dyer into the cabin. Hands on her hips, he studied her and asked, “Still not sleeping together, huh?”

  “How—how do you know?”

  “There’s two bedrolls here.” Shaking his head, he went to the stove to stir the pot of beans. “Can’t understand the likes of the younger generation. I’ll get down some more plates.”

  Amy stood motionless in the middle of the cabin and reality crashed in. She looked about the dim smoky room, poorly furnished with handcrafted stools and a rickety table. There was one sagging bunk in the corner. Only a few planed boards kept the cabin from being totally floorless.

  She also noticed all Father Dyer’s clothes hung on three pegs, while the portable organ leaned against one wall, looking as if mice had been chewing on the straps.

  This was reality; this was life for an elder in the Methodist Episcopal Church in Colorado Territory. It was the life Daniel wanted more than he wanted her.

  Amy shivered and pulled her shawl tight. But there was more. Tomorrow she would have Silverheels to confront.

  She sighed and turned to look at Father Dyer. His square, stocky figure embodied his no-nonsense, uncompromising attitude toward life. Without a doubt, even yet tonight, explanations must be made to him.

  With an impatient movement, Father Dyer turned and shoved the chipped plates toward her. Feeling as if her feet were wooden, she tried to move in his direction. He was watching and she saw in his eyes an unexpected sympathy. Blinking, Amy turned away.

  Daniel came into the cabin. He gave them both a quick glance as he walked to the stove to warm his hands.

  Much as she tried to relax, Amy moved like a wooden doll, placing the forks and knives on the table before she reached for the coffee mugs. “Once the sun sets, you remember it’s only February,” Daniel muttered.

  Father Dyer set the plate of bacon on the table and handed the knife and bread to Amy. He said, “What brings you two here?”

  Amy looked at Daniel, and he said, “Let’s wait a bit; don’t want to ruin supper.” Father Dyer’s eyebrows showed his surprise, but he sat down and bowed his head.

  When Amy made the second trip for the coffeepot, Daniel shoved his plate aside and looking at her asked, “Do I do the talking, or will you?”

  Amy sighed and sat down. “Guess I can start. Father Dyer, the reason I left here was because Silverheels ran me out of town. Threatened to do me harm.”

  He looked startled. He opened his mouth to speak, and Amy blurted out, “She’s my mother. I found my picture in the pocket of the cloak she had given me to wear the night Lizzie died, so I guess there’s no doubt.”

  Just saying the words, seeing the strange expression on his face, set Amy’s hands to trembling as she lifted the mug. She added, “It was like having someone come back from the dead, for a few minutes at least, but that didn’t last long. She turned on me, told me to get out, saying I’d ruin her life if it was known she had a grown daughter. It was terrible.”

  “So why are you both back here?”

  Daniel answered, “First, we’re both uneasy about her. Read the newspaper stories about the epidemic here. Later I picked up information in Denver City, indicating that she’d been ill with the smallpox and then disappeared.”

  Father Dyer nodded his head. “That’s what I’d heard. But I doubt there’s a person around who can give you information about her. As far as I’ve been able to discover, all the girls have gone, flown the coop. I don’t have much information to offer you because I was out of town when the disease flared up. They stuck a quarantine on Buckskin Joe. So I didn’t get back in until later.”

  He sipped his coffee and added, “You said first. What’s the next reason?”

  Daniel waited for her to answer. Amy stared at the splintery table as she said, “We didn’t part friendly. Fact is, I’m ashamed of myself. Need to apologize.”

  Daniel took a deep breath and leaned forward, “There’s good news too—the best.” When Amy heard the thread of excitement in Daniel’s voice, she lifted her head. In the shadowy room she couldn’t see his eyes, but as he continued, she found
tears coming to her eyes. “It’s Amy. This morning she prayed, asking the Lord Jesus Christ to be her Savior. I just can’t think of anything better.”

  Suddenly shy, Amy pushed her mug around, glancing quickly from one to the other. Father Dyer’s face was a study of questions, but Daniel continued to smile at her. She grinned, feeling her own spirit respond joyously.

  Later she washed and dried the dishes while John Dyer talked. “Wasn’t long after you left that the smallpox started up. As soon as the doctor came and the folks got wind of it, they started evacuating people. They told me all this later.”

  Daniel restlessly paced the room. “Many died?”

  “Yes. I don’t know the number. Mostly it was the single men. They’re kinda hard to keep count of.” In a moment he added, “Sure filled up the cemetery. Felt bad about not being here, but they were being pretty strict about keeping people out, except for the nurses coming in from Denver City. Didn’t want it to spread across the whole territory.”

  “When we passed I noticed the Tabors’ house was lighted,” Amy said.

  Father Dyer nodded. “But you can believe H.A.W. had his family out of here in a hurry.” Abruptly he lifted his head and said, “What about Silverheels? What do you want me to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Daniel said slowly. “I suppose we’ll go up to the boardinghouse and make inquiries.”

  “It’s closed. Far as I know there’s not a soul around there.”

  “What about going to the Tabors’ first?” Amy asked. “Augusta has probably heard something.”

  John Dyer stood up suddenly and stretched. “Well—nighty, night, children. This old man gets up early. Going to Mosquito Gulch tomorrow.” He headed for his bunk.

  Amy and Daniel unrolled their blankets on the planks close to the stove. John had banked the fire and the warmth was pleasant against Amy’s face as she tunneled into the blankets and turned to drop her shoes carefully on the floor.

  Daniel murmured, “Guess you’ll have to put up with my quoting Scripture. Nights when there’s no light I talk myself to sleep by saying all the Scripture I can remember. This one is for you. ‘That ye would walk worthy of God, who hath called you unto his kingdom and glory. For this cause also we thank God without ceasing, because when ye received the word of God which ye heard of us, ye received it not as the word of men, but as it is in truth the word of God, which effectually worketh also in you that believe.’ Then there’s one we both need to remember when we see Silverheels. ‘But the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned,’ and ‘That he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man…. Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think …”