Silver Dreams

by Thomason, Cynthia

  "I'll think about what you said," she conceded. "Good night, Max."

  Chapter Fourteen

  With stiff fingers, Elizabeth clumsily stowed the breakfast gear into her backpack. "I've never been so cold," she remarked to the rest of the prospectors who seemed to be having just as much trouble with the jobs they were doing. "My hands are frozen!"

  Ross struggled to fold one of the tents as compactly as it had come from the store, but the bulky canvas wasn't cooperating. "It's nearly nine o'clock, and we're still in camp instead of two hours up the mountain." He kicked a tent pole, causing it to rattle against a boulder and roll back to the ground. "Hurry up, everybody. Let's get going! What's taking so long?"

  "Actually you're what's taking so long," Elizabeth said. "I thought we were going to have to use a stick of dynamite to get you out of your bedroll this morning."

  He glowered at her and gave up trying to fold the tent neatly. Instead he rolled it into a bulky sausage shape and crammed it into a satchel hanging from the back of a burro. Then he cursed at the buckle that was now nearly impossible to close. "That'll just have to do. With any luck we won't need these stupid tents tonight anyway."

  A smile played at the corners of Max’s mouth as he said, "Why not? You expecting a warm front to come through?"

  "Of course not. I just believe we'll find Dooley's town and sleep in nice warm beds tonight. At least I hope we will. I don't think I can take another night of you kicking me in the ribs."

  Max leaned close to Elizabeth and whispered in her ear. "I wonder what he'd say if he knew I wasn't sleeping."

  She grinned. "You'd better not let him hear you say that."

  "Yeah, he might kick me out of our happy home and I'd be forced to bunk with you.”

  In spite of the appeal of such an idea, Elizabeth slapped playfully at his arm. The teasing spark she’d seen in Max's eyes was replaced with a smoldering look that was sufficient to ward off the morning chill.

  Memories of two nights ago flooded her mind though she clearly remembered that Max had called a halt to the activities in her bedroom. She turned away from him and busied herself with the rest of her packing.

  “Get your gear together and let's be off,” Dooley shouted, “or I swear I'll leave you right here till I come back down the mountain with all the silver in my very own pockets.”

  Max tightened the cords on Elizabeth’s bundles and made certain the gear was secured. “The commandant has spoken,” he said. “Bunking plans must be postponed for now.”

  The group began another slow winding trek over rocks and crags and spindly pines. Although the terrain changed constantly, its effect remained the same. Each new bend in the mountain wall produced new vistas, but the slow progress of the travelers altered little. When it seemed they had gone a great distance, Elizabeth would look back only to discover they had actually come a mere few hundred yards. Her feet in the clumsy boots ached, and her desire to see Bonanza grew stronger.

  She was the first to hear the welcoming sound. It was an indistinct hissing at first, almost like the pine needles rustling in the breeze. Then it became a churning, bubbling noise that could only be rushing water. "Stop," she said, holding her hand in the air. "Do you hear it?"

  Everyone listened, but Dooley strained most intently to identify the sound. He leaned in the direction it came and cupped his hand around his ear. "It's Diamond Creek," he announced joyfully. "I remember in '79, Lester Manly thought he'd found a diamond in his panning tin. Went running all over telling everybody to quit wasting time looking for silver. It wasn't no diamond of course. It was just a piece of quartz, but the name stuck anyhow."

  Dooley pointed to an area ahead of them. "Look over there. See how the trees get thicker and greener? It's the water running through them." He practically jumped off the ground with excitement. "I was right. The town's just over that rise and down in a little gully."

  Ross headed in the direction of the water. "What are we waiting for?"

  Thirty minutes later after crossing Diamond Creek, they all stood in soaked boots looking into Dooley's "little" gully, which actually dropped forty feet to a narrow valley. Elizabeth's heart sank when she didn't see any sign of a town.

  Ramona let her parasol drop limply to her side. "Well, where is it?" she asked for all of them.

  "That's what I'd like to know," Ross said.

  Max adjusted his stance to get a better view through the trees. "I can't see much from up here, but it doesn't appear that there's a welcoming party down there...or a building...or a dog or chicken...or anything."

  Dooley shielded his eyes. "My peepers ain't what they used to be, but I'd bet a gold nugget that town was there." He nudged Max. "Keep looking. Follow the creek. It flowed right by Bonanza."

  "I'm sorry, Dooley, but I don't see anything..." He stopped suddenly and turned toward the old man. "Wait a minute. Yes, I do." Pulling Dooley in front of him, he pointed down in the gully. "See there? Just under the tallest pine. Doesn't that look like a rooftop?"

  Elizabeth saw it next. "It is! I see it. And there's part of a chimney." Laughter bubbled up inside her. "A chimney! That means fireplace, warmth."

  They winded with the creek about a quarter mile through the trees, knowing that each step down meant the same steps up the next day. But no one seemed to mind. The thought of civilization, no matter how primitive, was too inviting to pass up.

  The trees became less dense the closer the party came to the town, giving a clearer view of the pitched roofs and rectangular shapes of buildings. When they finally emerged into a clearing, the main street of Bonanza appeared...a rutted dirt path, overgrown with brush and stubborn juniper shrubs that divided two rows of dilapidated buildings. That was all that remained, or perhaps ever was, of Bonanza, Colorado.

  Blackened, weather-beaten lumber, rusty nails, and probably a good measure of luck, was all that held the structures together. One two-story building with a false front buttressed from behind identified itself with a swinging sign that proclaimed in dingy letters, "Bonanza Hotel." The wide front window on the first floor had no glass, but miraculously the two second story windows that opened onto a decayed balcony did. The railing of the balcony had long since lost most of the decorative spindles that kept it mounted to the flooring. There was no telling what kept the unsafe overhang from collapsing onto the narrow porch below. What was left of the wooden support columns was worm eaten and pocked with tiny holes, evidence that hungry termites had gorged their fill of the good wood and moved on. And yet, sadly, the decrepit hotel was the best, sturdiest looking building on the main street.

  "This is a bit disappointing," Elizabeth said.

  Ramona walked toward the hotel. "I've stayed in worse."

  "Me too, girlie," Dooley said. "It ain't so bad."

  The other three looked at their seasoned companions with morbid curiosity. "You're kidding, right?" Ross asked.

  "It doesn't really matter, now does it?" Max offered. "It's nearly dark, and it's too dangerous to go back up the gully now, so, like it or not, we're staying." He pointed to the hillside that rose sharply on the other side of the gully. "From the looks of those abandoned mines, it's safe to say we'll be the only customers at the Bonanza Hotel tonight."

  Elizabeth nodded in agreement. The hill was dotted with the crumbling remains of dozens of mines that had been cut into the rocky wall – signs of bad times and poor diggings that had caused the miners to vacate the town. She followed Ramona. "Maybe it will be better inside," she said hopefully.

  Amazingly it was. Whoever had abandoned it, left the building intact. Two half round settees, the upholstery ragged from dry rot, flanked a log coffee table which still held a yellowed copy of a menu from the Bonanza cafe.

  The best feature of the room was the large cast iron stove which occupied one wall. The stove pipe jutted up through the ceiling to the second floor. Max opened the spring-fastened door and examined the wood box. "Should work fine," he declared. "You girls check the upstairs and see i
f you can sleep there. You should be warmer than down here."

  He'd barely gotten the words out before Ross grabbed Ramona's hand and led her to the stairs. "Did you hear that?" he asked her with a gleam in his eye. "I don't have to sleep with Cassidy tonight!"

  Watching the two of them step gleefully up the creaky stairs, Max shook his head. "There are probably at least two rooms, Betsy," he said. "Why don't you take the other one. I'll stay down here with Dooley and watch over things."

  Elizabeth helped Max and Dooley carry in their bedrolls and the other supplies they'd need. Ross and Ramona reappeared at supper, ate what Elizabeth had fixed, and returned upstairs.

  Once all the work was done, and a pleasant glow from the only lantern Max had lit washed the downstairs room in a soft amber, Elizabeth felt overcome with fatigue. She had to fight to keep her eyes open.

  But as tired as she was, she couldn't dispel the notion that she didn't want to be alone in a room in this alien town. She wanted to stay downstairs with Max, and she wished desperately that he'd ask her to, but he'd told her to sleep upstairs, and she didn't know how to suggest a change of the arrangements. Besides, what if he didn't want them changed?

  "I guess I'll go on to bed," she finally said.

  "Okay. Call me if you need anything."

  I do need something, she thought. I need to be here, with you. I don't want to go up there by myself. Ask me to stay. She waited a moment and then nodded. "I will. Goodnight, Max."

  "Goodnight."

  Despite the closed windows and the heat coming from the grate of a smaller stove, the room was still chilly. Sometime before, she'd decided not to sleep in the old iron bed against the wall. After inspecting it, she knew she couldn't be comfortable on the torn mattress even if she were in her bedroll. Who knew what creatures had taken up residence in the faded cotton ticking?

  Elizabeth unpinned her hair and put on her warmest nightgown, a floor length flannel affair with long sleeves and a drawstring that could be tightened around the bodice. Then even though she felt childish, she looked in the bureau drawers and under the bed one more time. She only had the light of the moon to go by, but she wanted to be absolutely certain she wasn't sharing the room with unwanted eight-legged guests.

  Crawling between her blankets, Elizabeth thought for the first time since leaving Manhattan of her bright, cozy room in the mansion on Fifty-eighth Street. She wondered what the patient Bridey was doing right now, if she was worried about her young mistress. She thought of these things, but they were not what she longed for. Her longings reached only a floor below.

  "Don't be a simpleton, wishing for a man who apparently doesn't want you, Elizabeth," she said to herself. If Max Cassidy did have designs on you, he could have shown it the other night. And he had every chance to ask you to stay with him tonight.

  All the logical arguments didn't help. Elizabeth still wished she were snuggled next to Max. She tried to think of other things, like what Bonanza was like in its heyday, or what the Fair Day Mine would be like when they finally found it. None of her thoughts soothed her to sleep.

  Worst of all was the silence. The town was asleep, and so, apparently were its visitors. There wasn't a sound from the next room. Downstairs the preparations for bed had ceased. Never had she felt so completely alone.

  Leaving the warmth of her bed, she went to the window and tried to rub a patch of glass free of its grime so she could see outside, but it was no use. Then in spite of the cold, she raised the bottom pane and looked out on the deserted street. A cold wind bit at her face, and she wrapped her arms around her chest to ward off a chill.

  The side of the gully they had just climbed down that afternoon rose like a granite monolith behind the buildings across the street. She couldn't make out the specific shapes of trees or shrubs. Everything blended together into one charcoal tableau, solid and unchanging until it met the darker ebony of the night sky.

  Only the snow-capped peaks of the taller mountains beyond broke the utter blackness. Gazing at the indistinct shapes and hues, Elizabeth was almost at peace...until she saw the encroaching shadows.

  There was a pair of them, elongated and rippling slowly along the gray landscape of the hill. She drew in a sharp breath and held it. Something was out there, moving between the buildings across the street and the gully wall. They continued down the main street until they reached the end, and remained there, poised almost like statues.

  Holding her breath, Elizabeth left her room and padded quickly through the hall in her bare feet. She raced for the stairs. She would awaken the entire party if she had to, but right now she just wanted to get to Max.

  A gasp of alarm caught in her throat when she reached the bottom step. She didn't need to wake Max. He was standing at the front entrance of the hotel, his hands braced on the door frame and his gaze focused on the far end of the street.

  "Y...You saw them?" she whispered hoarsely. He spun around to face her.

  "I did."

  She ran to him and flung her arms around his neck. He enclosed her in a strong grasp, his hands splayed across her back. "It's all right, Betsy," he said. "It's probably nothing."

  "You don't believe that any more than I do," she said. "Otherwise you wouldn't be trying so hard to turn around and see out the door again."

  A low chuckle tickled her ear. "You can be quite observant at times, you know?"

  She turned to look out with him, thankful that his arm stayed firmly positioned around her waist. "We're not alone in this g...ghost town, Max. Who, or what do you think it is?"

  "If you're asking me if I think it's a ghost, then no, I don't. What I do think is that some animals wandered in off the mountain attracted by our light, that's all."

  "Animals that walk on two legs?"

  His eyes narrowed. "Shadows can be deceiving. Things are not always what they appear." He gently pushed her behind him while he remained at the door, vigilant. Many minutes passed before he said, "I don't see any more of our visitors, so whatever it, or they were, they’ve moved on."

  He raised an old buffet to its side and moved it in front of the open window. Then he shoved a chair under the door knob. “Doesn’t hurt to take precautions though,” he said.

  Clever Max. He knew how to make her feel more secure. “Yes, that should work to keep anything out.”

  He took her hand, and in the meager light from the stove, she was emboldened by his smile. "You'll be safe upstairs. If anything does come in here, it'll have to go through me first."

  He had to be kidding. He really believed she would go back to her room after what they'd seen. "I'm not going up there. I'm staying with you...or you're coming with me."

  "Tempting, Miss Sheridan, very tempting. But I think we men should stay down here, just in case. But if you want to stay, too, you're welcome."

  They were the words she'd wanted to hear. "I'll be right back." She ran up to get an extra blanket, and when she came downstairs, Max had added more wood to the stove. A few degrees warmer now, the room was bathed in a soft glow. Max took her blanket and spread it over his, then pulled the corner back and slid between them. Resting his head on one of the tent pouches he used as a pillow, he held his hand out to her. "C'mon, Betsy, I'll protect you from the boogey men."

  She lay down and nestled her cheek against his shoulder. Her toes brushed the cuffs of his trousers under the blanket. A sigh escaped her lips before she could stop it, and she realized she felt so right next to Max, and if she were born to be with him. All their disagreements suddenly meant nothing. Because here, in a strange part of the country, hundreds of miles from everything that was familiar, in an environment that offered new dangers every day, Elizabeth was suddenly at home. Could it possibly be that he felt the same?

  "Max?"

  "Hmmm?"

  "Are you glad you came to Colorado at this very moment?"

  His hand moved with slow, easy strokes up and down her arm. "Well, the floor's a little hard..."

  She sensed the subtle mo
vement of his chin on the top of her head as if he were trying to look down upon her. "...and the food isn't really up to my culinary standards, but the present company's so darn charming I'm willing to overlook those little discomforts."

  She loved his words, the way he explained his feelings. "You know, Max, I haven't had anything to drink tonight."

  He smoothed the hair away from her face and combed his fingers through the loose tresses. "No, I don't think you have." "And I know perfectly well what I'm doing."

  "You usually do, or so you tell me."

  She raised her face and their gazes met. In the firelight his eyes shone darkly, like the gray-blue of an evening sky. "I want you to..."