Claim: A Novel of Colorado (The Homeward Trilogy)

by Bergren, Lisa T.

  The man on the porch was running toward their horses. To a gun? And the man on the roof took aim at Nic, who threw himself to the ground and rolled as a bullet hit the dirt beside him. He glanced at the man and rolled again and again, the bullets getting closer and closer to him as the shooter unloaded one shot after another. At six, he stopped rolling and came to his feet, guessing that the man on the roof would have to reload. He strained his eyes, trying to see the tall man, but could not spot him. The other two were now on horseback, and the first threw his torch on top of Sabine’s roof.

  Smoke was pouring out from under her eaves. The torch’s fire caught and spread rapidly, fed by dry timber and the fierce wind, a tongue of orange licking its way across within seconds.

  Nic shot at the men, making one of the horses rear, but then he saw that all three were on their horses, reeling them around and retreating. Whoever they were, they did not want their identities discovered.

  Sabine.

  He ignored the men disappearing into the darkness and ran the rest of the way to the cabin. The fire was building now. It wouldn’t be long until the ceiling collapsed inward.

  “Sabine!” he shouted. “Don’t shoot! It’s Nic! The men are gone, Sabine. Get out! Get out now!” He tried the door but it was locked.

  Sabine did not answer.

  “Sabine!” he screamed. “Sabine!”

  He backed up and ran at the door with everything he had in him, making the hole just large enough to squeeze half his arm through. “Sabine!” It was hot, even here. His eyes stung from the smoke and he blinked rapidly, trying to see inside. He had to get her out of there.

  Unless she was already dead.

  He groaned and shoved his arm further in, ignoring the splinters of wood scraping his skin. There. The peg. He grabbed it and pulled it out, lifted the latch, and the door swung open.

  He backed up half a step from the wave of black smoke that poured out. “Sabine!”

  He bent over and moved inside, ignoring the flames covering the ceiling, dropping curled, blackened newsprint down upon the floor. He caught sight of her foot and then her white nightdress. She was unconscious.

  Feeling as if his back were about to burst from the heat like a fat sausage over an open fire, he gathered her into his arms and rushed her outside. He gulped in the clean air, even as he laid her on the dirt, carefully setting her head down. He stared at her, clearly visible in the hot light of the cabin, and saw that she was not breathing.

  “Come on, Sabine, please,” he said, touching her cheek. “I … Everett can’t take it, not another person close to him, dying. Come on, woman, take a breath. Just one breath.”

  The cabin ceiling collapsed then, falling in two pieces.

  When he looked back to Sabine, she moved. “Sabine?”

  She gasped and then choked, coughing for a terribly long time. But at last she opened her eyes and looked up at him, as if he were an apparition. “Nic?” she asked, her voice strangled.

  “I’m here,” he said, taking her hand and bringing it to his chest. He grinned in elation. She was alive! She was going to be all right!

  She frowned and looked over to her cabin. “They … they burned it?”

  He nodded. “I’m sorry. We can help you rebuild. I know how you loved that place. You were lucky you weren’t inside when it came down.”

  “You … you pulled me out?”

  He nodded again and then pushed her hair from her face.

  She closed her eyes and gave in to another weary fit of coughing.

  “Come on,” he said, picking her up again. “I’m taking you home. We’ll figure out what to do come sunup.”

  He was carrying her out of the clearing when she said, “Wait. One last look.” He turned, and they stared at the cabin, the flames lessening now. She stared at it for a long moment, her eyes wet with tears, and then she turned her face to his chest and closed them.

  Whoever they are, Nic vowed as he walked down the path, I’ll find them.

  Sabine’s head lolled back, over his arm. He paused and set her down, holding his own breath as he did so. She was breathing. But she was unconscious again.

  o

  Sabine blinked her eyes and stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t hers.

  She sat up fast, and spotted Nic asleep on the floor, with his arms crossed, head on a rolled-up blanket. She looked down. She was in her nightdress, covered in soot. In the other cot was Everett, softly snoring.

  For a moment she thought she was in a dream, but then the terror of last night came back to her. The men. The guns. The smoke. She had just decided to burst out the door, shooting anyone in her way, when the smoke overtook her. She had collapsed and dimly watched the flames eat through her ceiling before she fell under the spell of unconsciousness.

  Sabine glanced over at Nic again. He must’ve heard the gunfire and come and rescued her. Somehow. Dimly, she remembered being in his arms, watching her cabin burning, but no more. Where had the intruders gone? Who were they? She remembered their low voices, their laughter, the sound of her front door splintering, the footsteps on her roof, and shivered.

  Quietly, she tiptoed over to the bucket of water, desperate for a drink. Nic’s eyes popped open, and he raised his head. “You all right?”

  “As all right as I can be,” she whispered with a croaky voice. She could feel his eyes on her as she bent over the pail, lifted the ladle, and drank, then drank some more. She placed the ladle back on its perch on the lip and moved to the door, unable to meet Nic’s gaze. Quietly, she lifted the latch and moved outdoors, her still-burning eyes met by a brilliant pink sunrise seeping across the valley.

  He’d think she owed him now. Coming to her aid like that. Risking his own life. What would he demand as payment?

  She crossed her arms. It was cold out here, this early. And she, with nothing but a nightdress.

  He came out after her then, rubbing his head and his face as if still trying to awaken. He carried a jacket with him and she turned away, feeling discomfited by his attentions. Still, she accepted the coat when he reached her and he settled it around her shoulders.

  Sabine took a deep breath, waiting for him to speak, and inhaled the scent of him—smoke and pine pitch and saddle leather. It was a good smell, not like her husband’s had been. His had been alcohol and old sweat and rotting teeth.

  “Pretty morning,” he said softly, standing beside her, crossing his arms as if trying to stay warm. She supposed she had on his only coat.

  “It is,” she returned. “No matter what happens in the night, the sun rises in the morning.”

  “True,” he said.

  They stood there in companionable silence.

  “Sabine, I’m sorry about your place.”

  She shook her head and glanced down to her toes. Not even a pair of shoes for her to wear … “It was only a house. In a way, it’s a relief to be done with the bad memories of what happened there. Fitting, somehow, that it burned to the ground.” She cocked her head and glanced at him.

  “You know who those men were last night?”

  “No. But I can guess who sent them.”

  “Who?”

  She gave him a small, incredulous smile. “Who would want to scare me off?”

  He lifted his chin, no trace of a smile on his face. “You think the men of the Dolly Mae would go to such great lengths?”

  “There’s a reason they came to me and not you last night, Nic. You were ready to take the deal. I’m the obstacle.”

  He stared at her a long moment and then rested his chin in one hand. “Men can be ruthless,” he said, looking her way. “But we’re hardly a match for them, Sabine. What do you want to do?”

  “Hold them off. Find another buyer, if we must. Or our own investors. But I won’t let my beloved land—or Peter Vaughn’s—go to men who are underhanded.”

  He caught and held his breath. “It won’t be easy.”

  “No. I suppose it won’t.”

  “It might not even b
e possible.”

  “Maybe not. But we have to try.”

  He thought on that for a while; then, “What about Everett? We’re putting him in danger, messing with men of this sort.”

  “We’re showing him what it means to stand up for what’s right. We’re teaching him to demand the full value of his land, if someone wants to buy it. We’re teaching him to be a man. It’s what Peter would’ve wanted.”

  “Peter? Or you?” he asked carefully.

  “Both of us.”

  Nic rubbed the back of his neck, as though it hurt. “You’ll have to hole up here with us. Unless you have some other safe place you can go. We can hang up a couple blankets between the beds. Give you privacy. Or I can sleep out on the front porch if you prefer.”

  She looked down at her feet and then out to the view, embarrassed to be discussing such intimacies. “Thank you. We’ll find our way.” She looked up and met his intense, lingering gaze. She wished she could read what he was thinking. What he wanted from her, if anything.

  He pulled away as if he was reluctant to be known so intimately and moved up to the house. “I’ll get some coffee on,” he muttered.

  “Nic.”

  He turned and looked over his broad shoulder at her, waiting.

  “Thank you. I owe you my life.”

  He gave her a small smile and a gentle shake of his head. “You owe me nothing, Sabine. But I find myself hoping …” He broke off, shook his head as if thinking better of his words, and then moved away.

  “What? What are you hoping for?”

  He turned around slowly, until he was facing her. He lifted his hands out, palms up. “I’m hoping that someday you won’t feel like you owe me anything, but after yesterday I found myself wanting …” He squinted and looked down at the ground.

  She sighed and said, “What? Just tell me.”

  He stilled and lifted his eyes to stare into her own. “Since yesterday, Sabine,” he said lowly, “I keep finding myself hoping you’ll want to give me a little bit of your heart. Not because you feel like you owe me anything. But because you hope for the same from me.” He laughed then, seemingly at himself, lifting his eyes and hands to the sky.

  She stared at him and then, realizing her mouth was hanging open, abruptly shut it. “Oh,” she said softly, belatedly.

  “Right,” he said. His eyes hardened and he turned away from her and walked up the hill to the cabin, never looking back again.

  Sabine wanted to call out to him, make him wait, make him clarify what he meant, but she knew. And she wasn’t ready for more than that. It was all too much—losing her home and now discovering that a man was falling in love with her. Her eyes narrowed and she looked out to the valley again. What if it was all another ruse? Was he looking to make her fall in love with him so he could control her land too, sell it to anyone he wished?

  No, that’s not right either. She could feel God’s gentle nudging, setting her back to His way of thinking. She shook her head and lifted her hand to her temples. Nic knew who she was, knew what she was—nothing more than a half-breed that other men dismissed—and yet he was still drawn to her. Was it possible? Possible that she might be finding love, after all this time? She’d given up on it. Never thought she’d find a man like that.

  Not that she knew enough of him, yet.

  But what she did know, she liked, she admitted to herself. Liked very much. She tried to swallow, but found her mouth dry again.

  She scanned the sky changing hues before her eyes. Perhaps, in time, her next steps would become clearer too, like the last colored vestiges of sunrise giving way to the blue skies of day.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  After lighting the lamp, Nic straightened and watched Sabine approach. “What is it that you think you’re doing?”

  She was in his trousers, belted at the waist with a piece of rope, and one of his shirts, which hung in big folds from her torso and arms. The sleeves were rolled up. She’d wound rags around her feet since she’d lost her shoes in the fire and pulled her hair up into a loose knot. “You didn’t expect me to stay in my nightdress all day.”

  “No,” he said slowly. Despite her silly appearance, he didn’t know if he’d ever seen her look more fetching. “But what are you doing here?”

  She had a determined look on her face. “I want to help in the mine.”

  “Sabine, you’re not even in proper clothing. And a mine is no place for a woman.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “We need some cash to purchase new clothing for me. And there are plenty of women who mine in these mountains. It looks as if I’m to be one of them. At least,” she hesitated, “for a while.”

  He studied her a long moment and then sighed. Another set of adult hands would be welcome down below, woman or no. And she was right—they would need funds to purchase her new clothing.

  “And if we’re to try and find our investors, we need to expose more of the vein. The farther we can dig and show them it continues on, the better offer we’ll get.”

  He studied her. She stared back, expectantly. Everett watched them both.

  “Do you always get what you want, Sabine?”

  “It’s not often I ask for anything.”

  Nic paused another second, then bent and picked up an ax. He handed it to her. “Don’t say I didn’t give you the opportunity to get out of this. Lord knows, I’d take the first chance to get out of it.”

  She smiled and followed him into the mine.

  o

  Nine hours later, Sabine straightened and groaned. Her arms and shoulders ached. Her back hurt. There was a fine layer of dust on every inch of her, including the inside of her nostrils. She looked over at Everett, clearly as exhausted as she was. He sat on a boulder in the corner of the mine tunnel, watching them both with dull eyes. Nic was six feet down in the beginnings of their shaft.

  All that work for a lousy foot of gain. The three of them had toiled all day long. Was it still even light out? She walked to the corner and peered down the passageway and glimpsed blue sky. They probably had another several hours of daylight, but she didn’t know if she could plunge a shovel or lift a pickax one more time. She returned to the shaft where Nic was still whacking away at the side, trying to square up the shaft.

  Nic looked up at her and grinned, his teeth brilliantly white against the backdrop of his dirty face. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up already.” He wiped his forehead of sweat, leaving a smear of dirt across it.

  “I’m not giving up,” she said, instantly moving the pickax in her hands.

  He lifted a hand a little in her direction and shot her a curious look. “Hey, I was only teasing. It’s tough work. I’m about to call it quits. We need to shore up this shaft with some timbers tomorrow. To say nothing of the time it will take for us to clean up.”

  She eased her stance, feeling embarrassed by her reaction. Why must she always be so defensive?

  Nic stepped on a crossbeam already in the shaft, and Sabine reached down to give him a hand up. He lifted one brow in surprise, then took her hand. In a second, he was up, beside her, and she quickly let go of his hand, self-conscious under Everett’s gaze. All day they’d bumped into each other as they dug and handed up pails full of dirt to the child above. Every time, it sent a surge through Sabine’s body, making her scalp tingle.

  He looked down into the shaft, surveying their work, panting a little, and she noticed his full, well-formed lips. What would it be like to have him kiss her? She felt her face flame. What had come over her?

  He looked her way as Everett trudged past them, obviously noting her discomfort. “Tired?”

  She gave him a small smile. “I think I might sleep tonight.”

  “Think we’ve cleared enough away to win over a new investor?” He didn’t even try to cover his wry smile.

  “Maybe after another thirty days like today,” she said, glancing down.

  “You ready for another twenty-nine days?” he asked.

  “I am if you ar
e. But I’d like a couple sets of clothes, so I can have a clean set each day.”

  “Me too,” he said, with a nod toward her attire. “So I can wear mine.”

  She gave him a rueful smile. “Sorry about that.”

  His eyes softened. “It’s all right. Have to admit, you look pretty charming in my clothes. Better than I ever did in them.”

  She smiled again and turned, afraid he might kiss her right then. She wanted him to kiss her. And yet she didn’t. She bent to pick up the pails. “I saw that you have some eggs. What if we fry them up with salt pork and skillet biscuits for dinner? Tomorrow we should go and find any chickens left over at my place.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  They moved toward the light at the end of the tunnel, and Sabine took her first free breath of air. She hadn’t known what it was like, to be in the dark for so long, so dirty, breathing stale air. She’d never offered to help her husband; he’d never asked. It would get worse as they went down, she knew. She’d heard the stories of old miners around St. Elmo.

  Outside, she caught sight of Everett to the right, wearily trudging toward the house, head down. But then her eyes were on the trail that led past the mine, and to her house. Or where it had once stood. She paused, looking at the trees that parted and the brown trail that disappeared around a bend.

  He stood there with her, in silence for a while. Then, “Need to go see it?”

  Still she remained where she was. Part of her wanted to see it. Part of her didn’t. There was part of her that wanted to believe it had all been a terrible dream. That the cabin was still there, waiting for her. And her things. Her diary, her books, the few treasures she had amassed over time. To be without them—to be forever without them … it was too sudden. Too much of a rip, like a lightning bolt splitting a tree in half, leaving one side to grow, scarred, the other to shrivel.