by Dana Alden
But what could Cal do? Amanda remembered the attack on the pack train, and how he’d killed off or scared off the attackers. But even if he received the message from Jedidiah Frank, understood it and wanted to act on it, even if he and Jedidiah didn’t tangle then and there, Cal might not have enough time to get to Amanda. She took the smallest comfort in the hope that Ned Bart would leave her body by the tree, where Cal would find it. And she hoped he would find it in him to write to her father.
Her thoughts were interrupted by that normal-sounding voice that belied Ned’s dangerous character. “Miss Amanda, are you trying to figure how not to take me to the gold?”
“No, no. I haven’t been there. I only know what Samuel told me. So, I don’t know exactly where I’m going.” That last was true. She had only been there once and now she was approaching from a different direction. She feared she’d arrive before Cal had a chance to get there and set a trap; at least, she hoped he would get there and set a trap. But, in fact, she was confused by the landscape all the false trails and wrong turns she had inadvertently taken were working to her advantage.
Ned looked at her with his hard eyes, probing her veracity.
“But, I think we’re almost there. This way.” She clucked her horse forward. Up ahead, there was a stand of cottonwood trees. Lightning had split one tree and she recognized it. This was it. It was the twice-struck tree. Without moving her head, she looked out from under her lashes, looking for a sign Cal was near.
Cal crouched along the bank of the creek, peeking through a stand of sagebrush. Sheriff Mendenhall was behind a cottonwood tree. Smitty, Dick and the other four men were placed around the stand of trees, behind willow bushes, along the creek bed, and by some real thick grass. They’d had to leave their horses tied up farther up creek. It was not an ideal place for an ambush, not with the lack of trees and rocks to hide behind. On the other hand, Ned and his men wouldn’t have anything to hide behind, either.
Except—of course—they had Amanda.
They’d left Pastor Frank locked up in town, with Scamp to watch over him. Cal knew from Amanda’s message that Frank was not to be trusted, but the Sheriff had still apologized as he’d locked the good pastor up. Cal only hoped that Frank hadn’t been supposed to meet back up with Ned Bart; that could really tip their hand.
Cal strained to hear their approach, praying Amanda was still safe. He wished she knew he was a free man. He wished he’d already declared his love and proposed to her. If they were going to die—and there was a chance they both could—then he wanted her to know how he felt.
Cal felt an overwhelming mixture of love and fear rising up inside his chest. How could he both find Amanda and lose her within days? He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing on the sounds he could hear around him: the grass rustling under a light breeze; the burbling creek; and the call of a meadowlark.
He opened his eyes as he heard something else. It was the alarm call of a crow. The noisy bird was alerting his feathered friends to the approach of strangers.
No, he told himself, he would not lose her. Not today. Not ever.
After a long minute or two, he heard the clop of a hoof on a rock and his heart jumped as Amanda rode into the clearing. She sat stiffly, her eyes scanning around. He saw when she caught a glimpse of movement in the thick grass. Her eyes kept scanning, though she very carefully didn’t move her head. She was, no doubt, afraid of giving away a rescue. Giving away Cal’s presence.
She turned her horse, casually, as if she simply was disinclined to dismount. However, she was carefully aimed toward the other gentle trail that would lead her into the willow thickets and on to the creek.
Ned rode up behind her, with two more men and their horses crowding the clearing. One of them was Ollie Lindquist, still dressed in his bearskins. Cal wished he knew if there were more men holding back. At least the Sheriff should get a good look at any men bringing up the rear.
Amanda made a show of looking around before she pointed to the base of the tree. “There,” she said. “He said he buried it under this tree.”
“My gold had better be there,” said Ned.
Amanda’s face grew anxious and Cal could only imagine the knots in her stomach. “I only know what Samuel told me.”
Ned swung off his horse, hopping down with the lithe movements of a man at one with his horse and with the world around him. He pushed aside the plants, looking for any sign of a piece of earth that had been dug up at some previous point.
As he poked at the roots with his booted foot, Amanda charged forward on her horse. She unknowingly ran straight at Cal. He leaned left as the horse leaned right. Behind her, he saw Ned swinging around, gun in hand and aiming at Amanda’s back. Cal ducked under the horse’s hooves even as he shot at Ned. Ned flinched at the impact, and then spun around as he was shot from Smitty’s direction. The unofficial deputies stood up, guns cocked and aimed, at Ned’s remaining men. It had happened so fast one of them never even got a shot off. Ollie Lindquist had fired toward the Sheriff in the trees, but it clearly hadn’t hit him, as he was racing toward them.
There was an odd ringing in the air, the sound that comes when several gunshots go off at close range, and the echo of Amanda’s horse’s hooves as she raced away. The smell of gunpowder and smoke hung thick in the air. Cal held his second pistol, watching Ned and his men for any moves against Cal’s group. Ned didn’t move. The other two men put up their hands.
Cal rose from his crouch and walked toward Ned with treading-on-eggshell steps as he anticipated a possible jump from Ned. But Ned didn’t move. Cal toed him and then rolled him over.
“Is he dead?”
Amanda had come back. She sat on her horse, her face pale under flaming patches of fear and stress on her cheeks.
Cal wasn’t ready to smile yet, even though he was so very glad Amanda was unhurt. “You should have stayed away until I gave you the all clear.” She really was getting a greenhorn’s introduction to the Wild West.
She looked straight into his eyes. “I couldn’t stay away, not if you might be hurt, or needed help, whatever little help I could offer.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I couldn’t leave you.”
Cal’s heart filled up his chest.
Chapter 22
Cal hammered a stake into the ground. Amanda pulled a piece a twine tight to it and tied it off. They had created a large rectangle in the meadow.
“I’m glad you agreed to come back here,” Cal said, waving his arm to encompass his homestead. “I was concerned it might be too soon for you.”
They’d gone back into town with the Sheriff, the day before, after the shootout. Cal had helped pack the bodies onto a horse, while Amanda had tended to the wounds of the men of the posse; they were just scrapes. Once in town, Cal had gone with two other men to help dig a grave, while Amanda explained to the Sheriff what had led up to the shootout. She had to tell him about the attack on the pack train, the bear man, and Samuel and the gunshot she’d heard. It was hard to believe all this had taken place in just the past few days.
By the time she’d finished, she was exhausted. The Sheriff escorted her back to the hotel. She waved away an offer of a meal from Rumor Rob and headed straight upstairs. She’d intended to wait up for Cal, but within minutes she’d fallen asleep on top of her bed, still fully dressed.
In the morning, Cal was waiting for her. He’d asked her to ride with him back to his homestead. “This is where the front door will be, and eventually, a porch. We’ll have a window in each wall.” He pointed to the northeast corner. “We’ll put the cook-stove over there.”
“We?”
Cal stepped up right in front of Amanda. He took both of her hands in his. “You and me. If you’ll have me.”
Her heart started pounding. Her breath caught. “What about…?”
“Delia? Told her I couldn’t marry her. I still want to help her, but I can’t marry her. I want to marry you.” He tugged her closer, so she felt they were standing in the
same place, breathing the same air. “Amanda, will you marry me?”
Her heart swelled as she tightened her fingers around his. “Yes, Cal.” Anything else she had to say was lost when he leaned in, slowly, to press his lips against her own.
His lips were warm and sweet, and with the warmth of the sun on her back and the gentle buzzing of insects in the meadow and birds chirping in the distance, she felt as if she was floating through Heaven, connected to the earth only through her lips pressed up against Cal’s.
Suddenly, she was truly flying. Cal lifted her into the air and spun her around. He gave a great, “Yahoo!” She threw her arms around his neck and laughed, the joy spilling out of her.
Cal placed Amanda back on the ground but pulled her in close when she put her hand on his arm. He turned back to the stake and twine rectangle that was marked out beside them. “Can you live here, Amanda? We can move the house if you don’t like the location.”
She felt she could live in a tent for the rest of her days, as long as she was with Cal. “It’s perfect,” she said. “As long as I’m with you.”
They stepped over the twine to stand inside their home-to-be. “Could you make shelves here?” she asked, pointing to the north wall.
“Yes,” Cal said, “and we’ll have a wall here to divide the house into a living area and a sleeping area.”
“Oh, Cal. It’ll be perfect.” She smiled at him. “I can’t stop saying that.”
Cal turned a little nervous. “I can’t offer you a big house, yet, and especially not a life of ease.”
“I’m not expecting a life of ease.”
“Well, I have one project which should help a little.” He stepped over the twine, heading toward the northwest, away from the house and creek. He stopped about thirty feet away. “I can’t offer you all the amenities you’re used to from the city, but I can offer you this. First thing I’ll build is your own… private… outhouse.”
Amanda laughed. She already had a list of reasons why she loved him, but here was one more.
Epilogue
Amanda heard the thwack of an ax hitting on wood, carrying across the crisp, bright air. Cal was working non-stop to finish trimming each log in preparation of the house-raising party they were having in two days’ time. It seemed after the long winter that everyone around was excited at a reason to get together. Amanda, in turn, was excited to have their neighbors—however distant—come to the homestead.
She looked up. Though the mountains were still snow-covered, the ground in the valley was down to bare patches of snow. She walked along, hoping to find signs of vegetation she might recognize, like wild asparagus, but it was a little too early in the season. She had found shooting stars and glacier lilies, beautiful wildflowers that glistened like precious jewels. She crouched down to admire the little flowers.
Another thwack reached her ears.
She needed to get back to the dugout cabin to start baking pies. She needed to get back to Cal.
Amanda picked up her pace. Even after getting married last fall, even after an entire, long, winter cooped up together, she still thrilled at seeing Cal after every small break. She kicked up her skirts as she dashed down the hill. After what felt like forever, she saw Cal, shirt off, swinging his ax into a giant log. He had spent much of the winter dragging trees he’d felled in the fall, using the snow to help make it easier on the horses. When the snow hadn’t been too deep, that was.
Cal stopped when he saw Amanda. He put the ax down and they ran into each other’s arms. He picked her up and gave her a spin around, before sliding her to the ground and placing a kiss on her lips.
“Hello, dear wife.”
“Hello, dear husband.”
They stood for a moment in giddy silence. Would this feeling ever end? I hope not, Amanda thought.
She looked toward the stone foundation Cal had laid, outlining the dimensions of their house to come. Stone by stone he had stacked them, trying to place each one perfectly. On the dark, cold winter evenings they’d cuddled by the fire, talking about the house they were building. Cal said he wanted a house that didn’t have meadow mice occasionally dropping from a sod roof. Amanda would say she looked forward to a wooden floor again, instead of the dirt floor they’d been living with. With Ned Bart dead and the fake Pastor Frank in jail they felt free to dream of their future together.
“A fellow on his way out of town stopped by,” said Cal, his arms still wrapped around Amanda. “He had been in Virginia City a few months back. Seems J.B.’s doing well with the mine.” He gave her a squeeze. “Our mine. We might need to make a trip there soon.”
“Any news about Delia?” Amanda asked.
“He didn’t know of any. But he did have a letter for you.” Cal stepped away from Amanda and toward the stones. He took an envelope that was sitting on his shirt and brought it back to her. “It’s from your father.”
Amanda opened it and quickly scanned it. She looked up at Cal. “They received my letter about Samuel. I wondered if my letter would make it last fall.” She read a little more. “They’re grieving.”
“Do you feel you made the right decision?” asked Cal.
“Yes. They don’t need to know about Samuel’s bad choices, or the details of how he died. It won’t hurt them to think well of him still.”
She folded the letter back up and tucked it into her apron pocket. “I’ll read the rest later. Right now,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper so that Cal had to lean into hear her, “I want to know what’s in that basket sitting over there.”
The basket sitting on the corner stone was one she’d never seen before. Cal gave her a mischievous grin. He stepped away and toward the stones. He lifted up the basket and brought it over. Suddenly it lurched in his hand and gave a little whimper.
“What—?” she asked as she lifted the lid.
A little brown puppy peeked out at her. He was the color of milky coffee, with a patch of white encircling one eye. He began to scrabble, sensing this was his moment to escape the basket. Amanda reached in. She brought the puppy to her chest. He rested his head, perhaps listening to her heartbeat.
“He’s beautiful,” she whispered. “He, right?”
“Yes, he,” said Cal.
They stood for a moment, watching the puppy trying to wriggle his way deeper into Amanda’s arms as if it was possible.
She looked up at Cal, eyebrows raised in question.
“That fellow dropped off more than your letter. Last trip to town I heard a litter had been born. I had Rumor Rob tell them that we wanted one of the pups. This little one is not much use now, but he will be. I don’t like leaving you all alone here. When I’m checking my traps or off hunting I want to know you have a little bit of protection.”
Amanda glowed. Cal was always thinking of her. Always trying to take care of her and make her life a little better.
“So wonderful,” she said.
“He’s pretty cute,” Cal agreed.
“He is,” said Amanda. “But I meant you. You are so wonderful, Cal. I’m so lucky to have you.” She felt her eyes tear up from the welling emotions inside her.
Cal stepped up, wrapping Amanda in his arms again, with the puppy wiggling between them.
“No,” he said, with intent in his eyes. “I’m the one who is so lucky to have you.”
They smiled into each other’s eyes.
It felt like the puppy, their new house, the mountains and the sun were all smiling with them.
* * *
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Although I am from the Boston area, I now call Bozeman, MT home and love writing about it.
Read on for a sneak peek of the next book in this series, Mining for Love.
Sneak Peek, Mining For Love
Delia couldn’t believe this
was happening. She’d travelled across two states and two territories to arrive in Gallatin City, Montana Territory. She’d taken a wagon to a train to another train to a steamship to a ferry…to this. To a town so small she wasn’t sure it should be called a town, and certainly not a city. To the only hotel/restaurant/bar/post office in town.
To be held up at gunpoint.
She was exhausted from travelling. Exhausted from trying to sleep sitting up squashed next to smelly travellers. Exhausted from trying to sleep on a noisy, swaying boat. Exhausted from imagining what she’d find at the end of her journey…and who she’d find.
She was exhausted from guarding her few belongings. She’d brought the maximum that she could manage. Everyone said it was different out here, that shopping was difficult, to bring what was most essential.
And now, here were a couple of men waving their guns around. No one else looked totally panicked, but no one looked relaxed and happy either. There was Mr. Daily, the proprietor. Two young men sitting at a table near the base of the stairs, greenhorns by the look of them. Another man sitting very still by the window, with a worn shirt and hat that said he wasn’t new to the West. And Mr. Stevens—he’d driven the wagon over from the ferry station. It was only luck that had placed him there to pick up some crates just when she arrived. She could have walked, but not with her boxes. She’d hated the thought of leaving them there after keeping them safe all this way. It was just that so many desperate young men were milling about. They were arriving on their way to the placer mines of Alder Gulch and Last Chance Gulch. Others were leaving, finding it too hard to make a living mining, never mind making a fortune. In any case, she feared some might be so desperate as to eye her goods.
And now, again now, these new desperados were poking about her stacked boxes. She was going to end up with nothing when she’d already thought herself nearly there.
“Whose boxes are these?” demanded the tall, skinny one with black hair and greasy beard.