Colorado Gold

by Marian Wells

  After a long moment he asked hesitantly, “Would it help if we prayed together?” She was nodding, slipping out of the chair onto the cold carpet-covered earthen floor.

  It was late afternoon when Daniel reached Dyer’s cabin. With a quick glance around, he asked, “Where’s Amy?”

  Father Dyer’s expresssion was pained. “I guess I’m a bumbling idiot, but I don’t know. She wouldn’t have a thing to do with me; marched six feet in front of me all the way back, came into the cabin, snatched up her blankets, and all the while she was muttering something about a doll.” He paused to turn his troubled eyes toward Daniel. “I’d a hung on to her if I’d guessed she’d take off.”

  “Doll.” Daniel’s fatigue began to lift and a flicker of excitement started to warm him. He remembered her statement: Father, I don’t think he’ll mind; he’s been pushing us together.

  He got to his feet and went after his blankets. “Have anything around to feed on?”

  “Well, sure.” Looking mystified, Father Dyer went to the stove. “I shot a rabbit. There’s some stew cooking.”

  “Anything to carry it in?” Father Dyer’s eyebrow lifted, and he began to grin.

  As Daniel headed for the door, he stopped and turned. “Tell you what. This is all just a hunch, but if you see smoke rolling out of the chimney over at Silverheels’ boardinghouse, don’t come looking. Everything’s under control. We’ll see you in the morning.”

  Chapter 36

  For a moment, when Daniel stepped into the hallway, he nearly doubted his hunch. Today it was evident the boardinghouse had begun a slow spiraling down; there was the smell of decay, the scurry of mice, the moan of creaking timbers, and silence.

  Going to the door he had entered with Amy, Daniel cautiously eased it open. He could see the fireplace as only a dark hole, but in the corner of the puffy pink couch there was a darker bundle. “Amy?” He slipped through the door, deposited his blankets and the kettle of stew on the floor and went to sit beside her.

  Her nose was pink and her eyelids swollen. “It’s cold in here. I’m going to look for some wood.” She sobbed softly but didn’t answer. He looked at the tears on her face and clenched his hands in his pockets. He headed for the kitchen, grateful for the task of building a fire.

  When the fire was crackling in the fireplace, he threw on an extra bundle of dry piñon. He smiled to himself and hoped Father Dyer was watching.

  Then he made another trip back into the kitchen for more logs. After he had built a pile of wood on the hearth, he went after water and plates. On his last trip Amy sat up and pushed the blanket away.

  Sitting down beside her, he asked, “Are your feet dry?” She thought for a moment before shaking her head. “Well then, let me pull off your boots.” She unwound her legs and thrust out her feet in a trusting, childlike way that had him blinking tears.

  As he unlaced her boots, he said, “I’ve brought plenty of blankets, so take off your stockings too.”

  Now she was watching him with curiosity, giving a tiny quick glance that made him smile. He resisted the impulse to kiss her forehead.

  He carried her wet stockings to drape over a log on the hearth, saying with a studied calmness, “They should be dry soon.”

  Back beside her, Daniel asked, “Why did you come here?”

  “I needed to think.” That spark of interest in her eyes had dulled. She leaned her head against the back of the couch and stared into the fire. Slowly, with a strange flatness in her voice, she said, “I messed everything up again. I tried. If only she hadn’t mocked me.”

  She raised her head and shook it slowly from side to side. “Daniel, no matter how hard I try, everything comes out wrong.” Her voice dropped to a whisper and he bent close to hear. “I make up my mind to act in a certain way, but it never happens that way. I don’t know why I screamed like that. I’m so ashamed I—” He watched her scrubbing at the tears on her face and carefully controlled his impulse to comfort her.

  In a moment she steadied her voice and added, “She made me so angry I couldn’t think clearly.” She lifted a defensive chin, saying, “I know a Christian isn’t supposed to act that way. But I’m positive I’ll never be able to live up to those high standards. I’ve tried and failed so many times.”

  Her eyes were imploring him as she added, “I thought now it would happen since you prayed with me.” Again she waited, then shrugged, “I guess it’s well for both you and Father that I leave.”

  “Amy,” Daniel replied slowly, puzzling his way through all she said, “You’re trying to do something the Lord wants to do for you. You’ve listened to your father preach sanctification, heart purity, holiness. You know Jesus told His disciples they would be baptized with the Holy Ghost, now—”

  She turned impatiently, interrupting, “Daniel, I know all that! Why are you preaching to me now?” She got to her feet and went to the hearth to check on her stockings. Abruptly Daniel jumped to his feet and followed her.

  “Amy, I want to help you. God knows why you’ve failed to understand, but I’m determined you’ll know the facts before you leave here.”

  “You mean you’ll make me stay?” Her voice rose.

  “Yes. I pushed the chest against the door, and I know you can’t move it alone.”

  For a moment she was speechless and then, as he watched, color and excitement moved back into her face. Her voice deepened as she came to him, saying, “This could be a very interesting evening.”

  He grinned down at her. “I promise you it will. Now sit down.” Still smiling impishly, she dropped down on the pink couch and tucked her feet under her. He pulled a stool close to the couch and sat down. “Unfortunately, I didn’t think to bring my Bible, so you’ll have to put up with my memory.”

  She reached out to smooth his hair and he clasped her hand in both of his, ignoring the twinkle in her eyes. Beginning slowly, he said, “The Bible, in both the Old Testament and the New, holds up a plan God has for a genuine relationship between men as individuals and God himself. This is what He wanted with Adam and Eve. But to make the plan work in a genuine way, there had to be complete freedom.”

  She was caught, and her playfulness disappeared. She leaned forward and asked, “Why? What does freedom have to do with it all?”

  “God desires love from each one of us. How can love be love unless we are free to not love?” Daniel lost the train of thought as their eyes met. They were looking deep into each other, weighing, yearning, promising, then retreating.

  The brooding expression settled down over Amy’s face. “And we’re not free to either love or not love. What a situation. We would never in a hundred years of marriage be able to decide whether or not we love simply because we don’t have that freedom—to choose.”

  She settled back on the couch away from the light of the fire, and Daniel sighed, conscious of the moment of retreat in both of them.

  He gathered his thoughts and said, “But because of Adam and Eve choosing sin, there had to be a bridge. You’re familiar with the law.”

  “Yes, and I know all about the Children of Israel sinning and repenting throughout the whole Old Testament.” Amy snapped. “You are being pompous. I also know the story of Jesus’ coming and dying in the New Testament.”

  “But there’s details in the story you haven’t heeded.” He saw her compressed lips and the flash in her eyes. Grinning, he said, “In Ezekiel God promises to give the Children of Israel a new spirit, to take away their stony heart and give them a heart of flesh. The purpose of this is to enable them to obey Him. In Jeremiah, God promises that when we seek Him with all our heart, we shall find Him. Amy, think about that; it’s important.”

  As he talked Daniel was aware that the gentle, half-mocking smile had reappeared on her face. With a shock he realized it reminded him of the expression on Silverheels’ face as she taunted Amy.

  “What is it, Amy?”

  “I’m thinking you must have a stony heart. Are you so much the preacher that you can do n
othing except preach, even in a setting like this?”

  “I didn’t intend to preach,” he admitted ruefully. A blush crept up his neck toward his ears. “Did you have something else in mind?”

  “Yes, I want to talk about me, us.” She darted a quick look at him. “Daniel, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this impossible situation.”

  “What’s impossible?”

  “You say you love me, and I think I love you, yet, we can’t agree on anything.”

  “Like what?”

  “I want to go—”

  He got to his feet and paced the room. “Don’t say it,” he said. “Let me guess. You want me to go east and pastor a proper church. Sorry, Amy.”

  “I knew it.” Amy shoved the blanket aside and stomped to the fireplace. She felt her stockings, sat down and began to pull them on. “Don’t look!” she snapped.

  “Why, you’re my wife.”

  “Daniel, I—” Abruptly she dropped her face into her hands.

  “You haven’t asked about Silverheels.” She dropped her hands and he watched the stillness on her face. “We had a good talk. Tomorrow we’ll go back for another visit.” He waited. “Come on, let’s eat Father Dyer’s rabbit stew. It’s been keeping warm for an hour.”

  With a sigh she got up. “You mean we’re still friends?”

  “No.” He was beginning to enjoy himself. “Amy, why are you so afraid of me?”

  “I’m not.”

  “It’s suddenly dawned on me that you are. Since we got married, it’s been one dodge after another.”

  She pulled the blanket across her shoulders and sat down. Her face was suddenly thoughtful. “One thing—I’ve always expected life to be big and wonderful someday. Now, reality is so ordinary. I want—”

  “The moon! And you wouldn’t be satisfied with the moon if you got it.” With a startled look, she got up and went to the fireplace.

  “Yes. Let’s have our dinner. Daniel, I don’t know what to make of all this. I have been running, ever since I married you.”

  “I know you have. You said life was ordinary. What about your commitment to Jesus Christ; was that ordinary?” He watched the wonder grow in her eyes. “Has it occurred to you that God has put within our grasp the possibility of making life, even in the dailyness, something grand?”

  She was still waiting when he came to her, lifted her chin. Gently he kissed her. “Amy, you reached beyond the ordinary when you fought all the obstacles to learn to play the piano. An ordinary piano, a less than admirable teacher in Lizzie, but you learned.

  “Now you think because we common people don’t possess a star-studded destiny that our lives will lack the spark to transform the lusterless. You don’t value love, do you?”

  He saw the shock on her face and pressed. “Did Central City teach you only that love is a bargaining tool? That value lies only in gold?”

  “Daniel!” her voice was shocked. “I don’t feel that way. I’ve never thought—” He saw the change, the crumbling of her defenses. “It does appear that way. I never intended it—”

  “What?”

  “A fairy tale. Grasping for something so far out of reach that I needn’t be fearful of catching it.”

  She was motionless for a long time. He saw by her eyes that she examined, thought, rejected and then decided.

  “Daniel, I am willing to surrender those desires. I started that yesterday. Now I know it must continue. But those things you said. About being a friend—”

  “I was only providing a refuge for your fearful soul. I no more want you only for a friend. In addition to being my companion, my wife, my lover, I want you for a friend.”

  “I suppose, if I’m to grow up, I must quit hiding behind the bargaining table. Daniel, I’m sorry for all this. No ifs. I’ll be your wife, no matter where, or what our circumstances. Just let me be with you. See, I discovered, at the point I thought I’d lost your love, that I value you more than all the gold in the territory.”

  “Amy, I’ve got to tell you something. We don’t ever get to the place where the Lord doesn’t have something more to tell us. Last night, He started talking to me.

  “I’ve been stiff-necked, proud, thinking I was doing Him a big favor, that He can’t get along without me.” He stopped and gulped. “Now I understand. I had it all wrong. Pigheaded, self-righteous. I should never have left you alone, never let you go. Amy, will you please forgive me?”

  Bewildered, she wiped the tears from her eyes and peered up at him, “I don’t understand.”

  He took her hand. “I was wrong, Amy. You come first—after Christ, but before my ministry. I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you and taking care of you. As Christ loved the church, that’s the way Paul put it. First.

  “He finally got it through my thick head that He’d given you to me. You see, I didn’t marry you because I was forced to, but because I wanted you very much. I think since the first time I saw you I felt that way.

  “As soon as I can, we’ll head east. I’ll find a church where I can preach the Gospel and you can play the piano—if you’ll have me after all this.”

  Amy was shaking her head, wiping at the tears. His voice sounded hollow as he asked, “You won’t?” Still unable to speak, she threw herself into his arms.

  He hesitated and she pressed her wet face against his. “Love?” He nodded and bent his head. When he released her, she wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled, even as fresh tears were falling. Finally she wiped the last tear and took his hands. “Daniel, you won’t need to leave. Strange how long it took me just to understand me. That’s what I want too. We’ll stay here, and you’ll go on preaching the Gospel, just exactly in the place God wants you. Only, please, Daniel, help me. I’m fearful—”

  He was smiling. “There’s one more verse. ‘Are ye so foolish? having begun in the Spirit, are ye now made perfect by the flesh.’ Amy, don’t worry about the weak human flesh. The Holy Spirit will be there to help you every step of the way. Both of us. I know I can’t get along without His help constantly. Sometimes I need to be reminded too. Not me—God.”

  He got to his feet. “Let’s eat that rabbit stew.”

  “It’s getting late!” Amy exclaimed. “Father Dyer will be out looking for us. We’d better just take the stew and go—”

  Daniel was shaking his head, grinning down at her. “No, my dear wife, we’re not going anywhere. I made certain Father Dyer won’t come looking, and I’ve brought plenty of blankets.”

  “Daniel?”

  He nodded. “Me and you—together.”

  Hesitantly she said, “You decided that before you came here—how did you know?”

  “That it would work out this way? I didn’t. I only knew that the Lord put us together intending for us to stay together, no matter. And you dropped the hint.”

  “I didn’t tell him where I was going.”

  “He said you mentioned the doll.” Now he tilted her face and slowly rubbed his thumb over the last traces of tears. “It bothered you more than you admitted. That encouraged me, gave me hope. Amy, tomorrow we’ll go see Silverheels. This time, I’ll help and it will work out just fine. Now, I’m hungry, Wife; let’s have dinner.”

  Chapter 37

  Amy had been conscious of sounds, the clink of the water pail, the crackle of fire; but she snuggled down in the warm blankets, blissfully happy and comfortable.

  When she heard his step and felt his touch, she opened her eyes. He kissed the end of her nose, saying, “I never guessed it would be so nice to have blue eyes peering out of my blankets.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. As he kissed her, he murmured, “It’s late. I think we need to see Silverheels as soon as possible.” He settled back on his heels beside the bed and added, “Also, I’m going to quit calling her by that name. That’s the past.”

  “You sound very hopeful,” Amy said slowly.

  “I am. After you left yesterday, we did some talking. We even prayed together.
I didn’t want to get your hopes up yesterday, but I was encouraged. Time will tell.”

  “The fruit of the Spirit?”

  He nodded, then said, “There’s warm water. While you bathe I’m going to look around, see if there’s something we can take to—Mother. She mentioned not having coffee. I saw a coffee grinder and, I thought, some coffee beans. I also found a towel for you.”

  “Did you remove the chest from in front of the door?”

  “No. There’s a door in the back of the closet, leading into the kitchen hallway.” The strangeness of Daniel’s discovery was a reminder. Amy bit her lip and looked around the room. Daniel pressed his lips against her neck and murmured, “Be back in a few minutes.”

  She found a bar of fragrant soap in the drawer of the washstand. A silver-backed hair brush still lay on the chest. As Amy slowly brushed her hair into softness and let the curls cluster around her face, she was thinking of the luxury Silverheels had left behind. Now she was scarred, abandoned, alone in that poor cabin. They must go to her now—quickly before she evaded them again. Fastening the final pins, she started to turn from the mirror and paused.

  That face smiling back—was the soft new curve to her lips, the peace in her eyes the result of loving, or of praying?

  As she set the plates and the bread on the table, Daniel came. In his face there was a reflection of the gentle peace she felt. She went to him with her face lifted for his kiss. He held her close, then tipping her head back, he kissed her tenderly, saying, “Oh, Amy, to think I could have lost you. I love you, sweetheart.” Then grinning, he said, “All right, Wife, where’s the breakfast?”

  It was nearly noon when Amy and Daniel stood on the last slope, looking down on the little cabin. The thin stream of smoke coming from the chimney was reassuring. Daniel smiled and reached for her hand. “I’m afraid,” Amy whispered.