“Corrie . . . !” Zack called out after me.
I stopped and looked back.
He was standing in the doorway. I could see tears in his eyes, but he stood tall like a man with a job to do.
“I love you, too,” he said, dabbing at the tears with his sleeve.
I smiled and took off with all my strength down the road toward town.
Chapter 36
A Revelation of Family Ties
I left the cabin at a dead run, but that pace sure didn’t last for long. The snow that had been so beautiful before was now a curse, what with the mud and slush slowing my pace at every turn. I slipped and stumbled, mud sloshing up over my boots and stockings and caking all over the bottom of my dress.
I wondered if I’d ever make it. My breath came in frosty gasps, and my lungs hurt dreadfully. Still I kept running, keeping my fingers clutched tightly on the small parcel I had gotten from the cabin.
It must have been the longest I’d ever run in my life. By the time I reached the outskirts of town, I had slowed to barely better than a walk, hobbling and limping on my numb feet. All I could think of was whether I’d be on time!
Then I heard the sound of a wagon coming toward me! I couldn’t believe my ears or my eyes. It was Mrs. Parrish!
“Corrie—what is it?” she called anxiously, stopping the wagon.
I ran to her as she climbed down to the road, and nearly collapsed in her outstretched arms. It was at least a full minute before I could speak.
“I’ve got to find Pa!” I finally gasped, “Before it’s too late . . . what’ll we do if he loses the claim . . . ?”
She could make nothing of my ramblings.
“Climb up here in the wagon, Corrie,” she said. “You need to rest a minute, then you can explain everything to me.”
“There’s no time!” I panted, climbing up after her. My legs and feet ached. “We’ve got to find Pa or Uncle Nick!”
Without waiting for further explanation, Mrs. Parrish wheeled her horses around, snapped the reins, and sent them charging back the way she had come. My heart gradually slowed its pounding, my chest stopped aching, and I managed to tell her the story briefly. Whether she caught everything I yelled above the din of the charging horses and the clatter of the wagon, I don’t know. But she certainly realized the urgency of my mission once it dawned on her that I’d run all the way into town from the cabin in the snow and mud.
About halfway through town we spotted Pa’s bay mare tied up outside a place called Lil’s Saloon. My heart sank in despair when I saw the buggy drawn up next to it—the one that had brought the man out to talk to Buck Krebbs.
Mrs. Parrish helped me out of the wagon. My feet were still numb and unsteady, but the moment I hit the ground I took off running again straight toward the saloon’s swinging doors.
I ran right inside, Mrs. Parrish behind me. We stopped short in the dim light to take in the scene. All the men were so intent on their conversation they didn’t even notice us at first. We heard what was apparently the end of a very heated argument.
The place wasn’t very crowded this time of day. A knot of men stood around a table against the far wall. My uncle was seated, his arms folded across his chest, his face hard and drawn. My first thought was to recall what had happened with Uncle Nick and the man called Judd over a poker game. I hoped he had been able to control his temper this time!
Pa was seated with Nick; a bottle of whiskey and two half-empty glasses sat between them on the table. Alkali Jones stood behind them, and three or four men I didn’t know were gathered nearby, along with the sheriff. And directly in front of Uncle Nick was the driver of the buggy outside. Suddenly I remembered his voice—it was Mr. Royce, the banker!
“I hate to see it come to this, Matthews—or—whatever your name really is,” Mr. Royce was saying.
“Do you?” my uncle replied, his lips so tight they hardly seemed to move.
“I’m a businessman, and this note is due and payable on demand.” Mr. Royce turned to the sheriff. “It’s all perfectly legal, isn’t it, Simon?”
Mr. Rafferty was obviously reluctant to take the banker’s side. “I’ve examined it, Nick,” he said, “and it’s legitimate. Potter borrowed money and put up the claim for collateral.”
“Unfortunately,” Royce went on with affected sympathy, “when you won his claim, the outstanding obligation fell to you. And I’m afraid unless you can come up with the $150 on demand, as the note specifies, the claim reverts to the bank.”
“I ain’t givin’ up the claim for no piece of paper that I ain’t had nothing to do with!” snapped Uncle Nick.
“The law—” Mr. Royce began to emphasize again.
With that, my frozen feet sprang to action and I stepped forward.
“Pa—Uncle Nick!” I cried. “They’re gonna burn up the cabin!”
The group of men parted spontaneously as I ran up to the table. In the confusion, no one seemed to notice that I’d forgotten to call him Mr. Drum.
“Corrie . . . what in blazes!” Pa exclaimed, looking up. “What in tarnation are you doing here?”
“I came to warn you!”
“But how’d you get here?”
“I ran—all the way. You’ve got to stop them, Pa! The kids are up there alone, and these men are gonna do what they did to Larsen’s place!”
“Who, Corrie?” asked my uncle from across the table. I turned to him, but before I could answer, Pa noticed Mrs. Parrish standing behind me, and leveled his gaze upon her.
“Your—I should say, Mr. Matthew’s niece has gone to considerable trouble to speak with you, Mr. . . . Mr.—Drum!”
“We can take care of our own business, if you don’t mind, Ma’am,” said Pa, annoyed at her comment.
“I have no intention of interfering. I just happened to meet Corrie as she came into town a few minutes ago. I think you ought to hear her out.”
Pa sighed and pursed his lips together. It was hard to tell if he was mad or worried. But now he turned to me again. Without comment, his eyes told me to speak and get it over with.
“It’s him!” I cried, pointing toward Mr. Royce. “I saw him and Buck Krebbs talking—”
“So Krebbs is in town!” exploded Uncle Nick, half rising out of his chair.
“I don’t know where he is now,” I answered. “But I came upon the two of them no more than a mile from our cabin. I was out for a walk, and overheard them talking just off the road—”
“Really, this is—” Mr. Royce started to speak. But Pa shot him a look that stopped his words cold.
“You shut up, Royce!” he ordered. “Go on, Corrie what did you hear?”
“They were talking about a job Mr. Krebbs was supposed to have taken care of the day he attacked me up by the mine. Mr. Krebbs wanted his money, but Mr. Royce insisted he do a successful job first. They talked about Mr. Larsen, but I didn’t catch enough of it to make sense of it, until they started talking about burning the place to the ground. And that’s when I knew I had to warn you! I don’t know where Mr. Krebbs is, but the kids are still at home by themselves, and these men said they were going to do it tonight!”
“Come now,” said the banker, “you certainly are not going to believe the fanciful rantings of a half-exhausted child!”
Pa jumped out of his chair, sending it to the floor behind him with a crash. He looked a foot taller than Mr. Royce at that moment, and I could almost see smoke coming from his nostrils.
“Are you calling my daughter a liar?” he thundered. If I had been Mr. Royce, I would have been shaking from head to foot.
At the word “daughter” a general murmuring began to filter through the saloon.
A peculiar smile spread slowly over Royce’s lips, as if the revelation of this secret gave him further fuel to use against Pa.
“Your daughter, you say? I thought this brood belonged to Matthews—ah, but then that’s not his real name, is it?” The part about Uncle Nick’s name he muttered almost to himself.<
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“You heard right!” interrupted Uncle Nick, now rising himself and coming to Pa’s rescue. “They are my kin—my sister’s kids!”
“It’s all right, Nick,” said Pa softly, “there ain’t no sense keeping it quiet any longer. Yeah, that’s right, Royce,” he said, again to the banker. “This here’s my daughter, and she ain’t been brought up to tell no lies!”
Still wearing that smug smile, the banker said, “I was merely attempting to point out that sometimes children have vivid imaginations.”
My natural shyness was gone and I felt indignant at being called both a liar and a child. I was so proud of Pa for standing up for me that I figured I could stand up as well.
“I did not imagine a word of what I heard you saying!” I said, in the strongest voice I could muster.
“Well,” said Royce in a slightly altered tone, a thin line of sweat forming on his forehead. “It may well be that she saw Krebbs and me together. The thieving man accosted me on the trail and we did have words. In fact, he tried to rob me. But I assured him I was carrying no cash, and that I would have him arrested if he so much as touched me. He frightened off pretty easily. But if you want to go after him, I say take the law with you and grab him. Men like him are a threat to our community.”
“Me gunnin’ down Krebbs would be mighty convenient to you, wouldn’t it Royce?” said Uncle Nick in a low growl. “That would eliminate the only verification to Corrie’s story.”
“It’s neither here nor there to me.” Mr. Royce sounded smug, despite his moist forehead. “Regarding the girl’s allegations, whether Krebbs is dead or alive seems to me to hardly change the fact that you have no more proof than my word against hers. And the word of an upstanding town father against that of a flighty child of—shall we say, of dubious parentage—”
Before he could finish, Pa’s fist crashed down on the table. He took two strides toward the banker and it looked like he was about to knock him onto the floor.
Uncle Nick and Mr. Jones jumped out from behind the table to restrain him. “The vermin ain’t worth it, Drum,” said Uncle Nick, suddenly playing the unaccustomed role of peacemaker.
Restrained but hardly pacified, Pa stood glaring at the banker.
“—whose father’s real name we apparently don’t even know,” went on the courageous Mr. Royce. “My word against hers hardly seems a fair contest. What possible evidence could the child bring? And after all I’ve done for this town, who would believe it?”
“We’ll see, Royce,” growled Pa between clenched teeth.
“And all this is beside the point, anyway. The problem of the IOU still must be addressed,” said Mr. Royce, attempting to again assume the tone of businessman, ignoring Pa for the moment and turning his focus again toward Uncle Nick. “Even if I were everything this foolish girl says, your claim still legally belongs to the bank. Now, I’m going to tell you one final time, Matthews—” He spat out the word with contempt. “I am calling your note due. You must make good on that $150 debt, or I will take possession of the mine. There is no court in this country that would tell you differently.”
“Well, I ain’t got no $150. And I ain’t giving you our claim. You can do your best to come and try to take it from us!”
“The sheriff has the authority to arrest you if you persist in your refusal and cause any trouble over this.”
Now Alkali Jones’ squeaky voice broke into the conversation for the first time. “Hee, hee! I’d like to see him try! Hee, hee!”
“I want to avoid any violence,” said Mr. Royce, his smugness slipping once more, “but the law is the law.”
“There’s another kind of law in these parts, Royce,” said my uncle, “and it stands for a dang sight more’n your babble.”
“Come now, Matthews,” said Mr. Royce with a smile, “you and the so-called Mr. Drum here—you’re family men now. Surely even you, despite your reputation, would not resort to gunplay—”
All at once I woke up and came to my senses. Why was I listening to all this? I held the solution to everything right in my hand!
“Pa—Uncle Nick!” I blurted out. “It’s right here! I went back to the cabin for it, and I plumb forgot! I heard Mr. Royce telling Mr. Krebbs about the IOU, too. So I ran back for it.”
I slapped the velvet pouch I had been carrying down on the table. “There’s your money, Mr. Royce!” I cried. “It’s my Ma’s inheritance. You can take your $150 from it!”
I flashed a look of triumph at Mrs. Parrish, then smiled at Pa.
He and Uncle Nick just stood staring at the pouch, but made no move for it. Neither did Mr. Royce.
“It’s yours, Pa,” I said, “just like I told you before.”
“What about it, Matthews?” asked Sheriff Rafferty.
Uncle Nick glanced at Pa dumfounded. He had known nothing about the money. All eyes were on Pa, waiting for him to speak. But the real expression to watch was that of Mr. Royce. He couldn’t hide his chagrin, and it seemed he didn’t know what to do next.
Pa remained quiet, stroking his beard, gazing without expression at the pouch. Finally, he looked up at me, and it seemed a mask fell off his face. It was as if he were letting go of a personality that wasn’t really his, part of him he’d been trying to hang onto in order to keep back the secrets of his past. Suddenly, he was no longer a stranger who happened to share my family name . . . but my father—the man who had loved his wife and children, and who had suffered terrible guilt over being forced to flee and leave us behind.
“Why’re you doing this, Corrie?” he said softly, and it was like we were the only two people in that saloon. Everyone else was silent. “Why—after all I done, after my leaving your ma, after the way I treated you . . . ?”
“All that’s past, Pa,” I answered. “Anyway, we’re kin, and I guess that’s reason enough. Please take it. That’s what Ma would want, if she knew how things were now. I know it, Pa—I know she would! And—it’s what I want, too.”
He took the pouch slowly in his hand, and dumped out the wad of bills. Methodically, he counted out one hundred and fifty dollars, put the rest back into the pouch, and handed it back to me. Then he gave Uncle Nick the money.
“Here’s your payment, Royce,” said Uncle Nick. As the banker took it, he looked as crestfallen as ever I’ve seen a man. “Take it, Royce, and give me that IOU!”
Royce reluctantly handed him the piece of paper.
Now it was Pa’s turn to speak again. He looked him coolly in the eye. “Now I’m telling you, Royce, if you or any of your hired hooligans ever comes near my family again, you’ll live to regret it! Now . . . get outta here!”
Clutching the money in his fist, the banker spun around red-faced and slipped out a back way. A belated cheer rose from the men in the saloon, above which could be heard the high-pitched cackle of Alkali Jones. As the cheer subsided, there was a barrage of questions thrown in Pa’s direction about his newly-revealed family ties.
But before he could answer, even as the doors were still swinging from Royce’s exit, they crashed open once more.
My brother Zack came racing into the room!
Chapter 37
The Cave
Zack stormed in, all out of breath and muddy, just like I was.
“Pa . . . Corrie!” he cried. “It caved in! He only got away from me for just a minute, but—”
“Slow down, boy,” said Pa, trying to stay calm and laying a steadying hand on Zack’s shoulder.
“Oh, Pa, I’m real sorry. I didn’t mean to let him go near it—”
“Who—go near what? Tell me what happened!”
“I couldn’t get him out—Tad’s trapped inside the cave!”
“The mine?” Pa cried, his worst fears suddenly realized.
“He slipped away; I didn’t know where he went at first, but I shoulda guessed. You know how he’s always wanted to go down there and work with us. Well, first I heard him call to me. I went runnin’ after him, but then I heard a rumblin’ sound . . .
and fallin’ rocks . . . and dirt and dust was billowin’ out of the mouth of the cave . . . and Tad’s coat was laying in front of the opening! After that I shouted and shouted, but Tad never answered back!”
“What then?” asked Uncle Nick.
“As soon as the rocks stopped falling, I ran inside and tried to dig my way through the pile—there was a huge pile of rocks and dirt . . . it looked like a whole section of the roof just gave way—and one of the big timbers was lying there half covered by the rocks, like it’d just broken in two from the weight . . .”
“I wonder if it had a little help,” mused Uncle Nick.
Pa flashed a look at him. I knew they were both thinking of Buck Krebbs.
“I was calling out Tad, Tad, but I couldn’t hear anything, and I knew I’d never dig through it myself . . . so I locked the girls in the cabin and ran off down the road. About a mile out, this man came along and gave me a ride into town on his horse.”
For the first time, we all noticed that a man had followed Zack into the saloon. I didn’t know him, but Pa seemed to.
Even as Pa said, “I’m much obliged to you, Shaw,” the saloon became a flurry of activity. Pa and Mr. Jones and Uncle Nick talked hurriedly together, then broke up and headed for the door. Several other men were grabbing their coats and running outside.
Pa was the first one out the door, and I heard his horse galloping away before the rest of us reached the sidewalk. Other riders weren’t far behind him.
Uncle Nick called out to whoever would listen, “Anybody have a cable to move them rocks? We’ll need some extra picks and shovels too.”
I heard someone reply, “I’ll bring rope!” By that time, Mr. Jones had the wagon and team ready, and without even waiting for him to stop, Uncle Nick jumped aboard, took the reins from Mr. Jones, and sent the horses flying down the street, his hat tipped back on his head, and his light hair flying in the wind.
Before I could feel left behind, Zack and I were in Mrs. Parrish’s wagon, and she was whipping her two horses into a full gallop. We were bounced along as she shouted to the horses for greater speed. “Hee-yeaah! Hee-yeaah!” she cried, half standing, flipping the reins with her wrists. But I think the horses were already running as fast as they could. Several more men on horseback passed us on the way, but it was certainly the fastest trip I’d ever made between town and the cabin!
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