Patience

by Lori Copeland

  “Might as well save your energy. Ain’t nothin’ you’re offerin’ likely to entice ’em, miss.”

  Patience glanced over to see the elderly prospector who’d spoken to her earlier sitting on the sidewalk steps, whittling. Jay leaned against the hitching post, passing the time of day.

  “Is everyone employed?” she asked. “Doesn’t anyone in this town need a job?”

  “Nope.” The old man leaned forward and spat. Wiping tobacco juice on his coat sleeve, he returned his attention to the small deer he was carving. His crippled hands worked the wood slowly and lovingly. The carved figure was intricately fashioned with delicate details.

  Stepping around Jay, Patience came over to sit beside the man. She watched him work for a moment before she spoke. “That’s very nice. Have you been carving long?”

  The old man spit another reddish stream. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he nodded. “Pert near all my life.”

  “You’re very good at it.” She’d never seen an image so lifelike. The doe’s supplicating eyes immediately drew her in.

  “He sells his work,” Jay observed.

  Patience lifted her eyes coolly.

  “Ain’t no one gonna work your mine,” the prospector predicted.

  Patience’s thoughts unwillingly returned to the problem at hand. “The men can’t all have jobs.”

  “Nope, lot of ’em looking for work. But they don’t wanna work for you.”

  What was wrong with her? she wondered. She hadn’t been in town long enough to make enemies.

  The old man held the carving out to study it. “Well, it ain’t you exactly. It’s the mine.”

  “Mule Head?”

  “Yep. Gamey O’Keefe won’t let no one come near it.”

  “Oh—Gamey O’Keefe. I should have known.” She glanced at Jay.

  He held up his hands in protest. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “He didn’t say a thing,” the miner confirmed. “Didn’t need to. Gamey’s ghost is living in your mine.”

  “Oh, that’s nonsense. You mean to tell me that grown men would actually refuse to work for me because they think the mine is haunted?”

  “Yep.” He spat again.

  “Feathers.”

  He looked, frowning. “What’s that?”

  “What’s what?”

  “That thar feathers. You a cussin’ woman?”

  “That’s her way of cussin’.” Jay grinned.

  “Oh, my … no,” Patience stammered. She could feel her face burn and she wanted to throttle Jay Longer for telling tales. If feathers was offensive, she hadn’t been told. “I wasn’t being vulgar. Feathers means nonsense, empty talk … you know.”

  “No, cain’t say as I do. Never heared the term before. Thought feathers were something you found on a bird or duck.” He smiled. “Rumor has it that you come from Denver City. They talk like that over there?”

  “Well, some do—but I don’t think feathers is especially prevalent.” The orphanage housekeeper favored the term, and Patience had latched on to it. She eyed Jay, who seemed to be enjoying her discomfiture. The big brute.

  “Yeah? Well, it’s a new one on me,” the miner confessed.

  Patience watched while he painstakingly shaped the carved animal’s hind leg with a knife blade.

  Drawing her knees to her chest, Patience rested her chin, watching the men come and go, their incredulous laughter getting on her nerves. The old prospector’s clothes she was wearing were three sizes too big for her, and she had to roll up the coat sleeves to use her hands. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

  “Ain’t never seed one, but I allow they could be some.”

  “Well, apparently everyone around here thinks there are.” She sighed. “I have a problem.”

  “Yep, guess you do.”

  “I’d say,” Jay added.

  Patience shot Jay a warning look that said You’re not in on this conversation, mister.

  “What should I do?”

  The old miner looked thoughtful. “Hard to say. Rumor also has it you have to work the mine. You need the money, bad.”

  Patience snorted. Rumors certainly spread fast in these parts.

  “Heared tell thar’s some Chinymen over at Silver Plume. They might help ya.”

  “How far is Silver Plume?”

  “Oh … day, day-and-a-half ride from here.”

  “A hard day-and-a-half ride,” Jay confirmed.

  A day-and-a-half ride! Patience didn’t own a horse, and she couldn’t leave Wilson alone.

  The old miner seemed to read her thoughts. “I got a jenny. She ain’t pretty, but she’ll get you there.”

  “It isn’t that—I don’t care what the animal looks like. It’s the small boy I’m looking after. I can’t leave him unattended.”

  “Wilson? The boy’s old enough to take care of himself, ain’t he?”

  “Do you know him?”

  “Seed him around with the old prospector.”

  “Wilson is sensible, but I wouldn’t leave him alone,” Patience said. She noticed Sheriff Longer didn’t come to her rescue. Well, good. She wouldn’t have accepted his insincere help anyway.

  “Well, ole Widow Noosemen will help you out.” The old miner held the carving out for final inspection. “She’ll look after the boy till you git back.”

  “I can’t pay her anything for her services.”

  Handing Patience the carving, the old man smiled. “That’s all right. Widow Noosemen’s service ain’t worth nothing, but she’ll see to the boy.”

  “Ole Widow Noosemen,” Wilson groaned. He and Patience walked up the mountain late that afternoon. “She smells funny!”

  “I’ll only be gone four days, Wilson. That old miner Chappy Hellerman told me there are some Chinamen in Silver Plume who might be willing to work. I’ve already spoken to Widow Noosemen, and she has agreed to let you stay with her until I get back.”

  “But, P—”

  “No buts, Wilson.” Patience hated to disappoint him but there was no other way. “Widow Noosemen is very nice, and I’m grateful for her kindness.” The widow did reek of snuff, but she adamantly refused Patience’s eventual offer of money, saying it was her Christian duty to help out. “You know I’ve tried everything I know to hire workers, but no one wants to work for me. Maybe if I go far enough away, I’ll find someone who’s never heard of the Mule Head.”

  Wilson huffed and puffed, climbing higher. “How you gonna get there? Walk?”

  “No, Chappy has graciously offered to let me borrow his mule.”

  “Aw, rats.”

  “I’m sorry; that’s how it is. I’ll be back as soon as I can. With any luck, we’ll have our crew, and maybe some nice Chinaman will even teach you to speak Chinese.”

  “Aw, rats. What about Jay? Can’t I stay with him?”

  “Absolutely not! And don’t ever mention his name to me again.”

  “You mad at him?”

  Patience bit her lower lip, deciding if she couldn’t say anything nice about the sheriff she wouldn’t say anything at all. So she kept quiet.

  As they trudged up the incline, Wilson bombarded her with all the logical arguments against staying with Widow Noosemen he could think of: someone might steal him; he might get hurt; he could fall off the mountain and no one would ever find him; an elk could eat him; he could lose his glasses and never see again; Widow Noosemen could beat him.

  But in the end, Patience held her ground. First light tomorrow morning she was going to Silver Plume, and Wilson had to stay with Widow Noosemen.

  Things would have been a whole lot simpler if Sheriff Longer wasn’t deliberately making her situation harder. It wouldn’t hurt him to watch Wilson, and it sure wouldn’t kill him to help her hire a crew. He had seen they had plenty of firewood and fresh water, and she had thanked him for that. But then he just left her alone. She wouldn’t have thought it of him. A knight in shining armor he wasn’t.

  She stifled a grin. A knight in shabby clothes,
maybe. She’d never seen a man so raggedy. His shirt would surely come apart if you washed it. Still, there was something solid about him. But if he hoped to soften her up by leaving her alone, he was wasting his time. She owned this mine, and she planned to work it if she had to do it all herself.

  Jay watched Patience and Wilson leave town and start their ascent up the mountainside. He’d kept an eye on her all day. A rough miner’s camp wasn’t any place for a pretty woman like Patience Smith.

  Pretty, aggravating woman like Patience Smith. Seemed every time she failed, she just dug her heels in a little deeper. Now she was going to try her luck in Silver Plume. If he had any sense, he’d go on back to Denver City and let her fish or cut bait. But somehow he couldn’t do it. It wasn’t in him to leave a woman in a dangerous situation, and the Mule Head was no place for a woman. He’d just saddle his horse and follow her to Silver Plume.

  But she’d never know it.

  Chapter Seven

  Who’d ever have believed news could travel so fast! Even the Chinese had gotten wind of Gamey’s ghost. Week two flew by, and Patience still didn’t have a crew. Jay Longer was still hanging around, goading her to go back to Denver City. Well, she wouldn’t. Not as long as there was a breath of hope to get the mine up and working—albeit the breath was getting a mite ragged.

  Brave words, and she tried to believe them, but she was getting discouraged. Worse, sometimes she got so downhearted she even cried, and she wasn’t a crying woman. She’d always been the type to pull up her socks and go on. “Crying won’t mend no britches,” the matron at the orphanage used to say, but it seemed like Patience just couldn’t help it.

  At first she had been so excited thinking about how she could take care of her friends back in Denver City. She’d even made plans for Wilson, wanting to help him get a good education, more than he could receive in a mining camp. She had been so certain that God had led her to the Mule Head, but now she had doubts. How could she work a mine if she couldn’t even get a crew?

  She tried to keep Wilson from knowing how discouraged she got, but she knew he noticed sometimes how red and swollen her eyes were after she had cried at night when he was supposed to be asleep. Well, she’d have to think of something. Somehow there had to be a way to get a crew together. If God wanted her to work the mine, he would lead her to a solution.

  Lifting an egg out of the skillet, Patience called Wilson again. “Hurry up! Breakfast is getting cold!” She sliced bread, and her mind raced with a new plan.

  Women. That’s where she’d go. Fiddle Creek women enjoyed an uncommon amount of independence. Miners, it seemed, were starved for the fairer sex, so women were revered and seldom hampered by propriety.

  The town ladies were mostly shopkeepers’ wives who enjoyed certain refinements within their own social realm. They might welcome a break in their monotonous routine. After all, a woman could mine gold just as easily as a man. Patience would just go to the women, explain the problem, and offer to pay them a man’s wage to help her.

  Of course, they wouldn’t be able to work the mine forever, but they could at least get the work started. They had little else to occupy their time but a few frivolous activities that Patience had prudently avoided by saying her obligations to the mine prevented her from joining in the fun.

  During her recent journey to Silver Plume, she’d witnessed an incident that left her both amused and sad. A woman’s bonnet had been found lying in the middle of the road. No one seemed to know how it got there, but it caused quite a stir among the miners. Three or four of them had nabbed the saucy little hat with its ribbons, bows, and laces and erected it on a maypole in the center of town.

  Their shenanigans turned into a near riot. The other men, looking for an hour of diversion from the cold streams and damp mines, poured into camp to join in the fun.

  The bearded, booted roughnecks were so hungry for female companionship, they staged an impromptu dance around the bonnet, joking and laughing as they took turns dancing with the lovely “Miss Bonnet.”

  Patience had watched the good-natured fiasco, wondering if Jay Longer was as eager for female companionship. Her thoughts surprised her, and she wondered why she’d thought them in the first place.

  She’d seen Jay in Silver Plume, but he’d steered clear of her. Now, what had he been doing in Silver Plume the same day she was there? Drawing her knees to her chest, she grinned, admitting that with a little cleaning up the handsome sheriff of Denver City would be downright interesting. She had never seen eyes so remarkably blue or hair more fiery red or a chest so broad and manly.

  She couldn’t imagine why he kept himself so distant and—unhappy. He looked to be in excellent health—too thin, perhaps, but a few good meals would remedy that. He had no zest about him, no anticipation for life. He was a man with no purpose other than to drag her kicking and screaming back to Denver City.

  Wilson’s voice jerked her back to the present. “Couldn’t we wait until it warms up?” he complained, decidedly disgruntled about being pulled from his bed before daylight.

  “Just eat. We have to hurry.”

  He cracked one eye in the direction of the door. “It isn’t even day yet, is it?”

  “Just barely. Now hurry and eat, grouch.”

  Directly after breakfast, they set off. “You’ll be a little early for school, but I want to be the first one at the mercantile this morning,” she explained. They descended the narrow trail. She didn’t want to miss talking to a single woman. The moment the school bell rang, the mothers would head for the store to exchange the latest gossip. This morning she planned to be there waiting for them.

  “I don’t like school, Patience. Nobody likes me,” Wilson complained, his feet hurrying to keep up with her. “The girls talk mean to me, and the boys call me Four Eyes and Bat Boy.”

  “Bat Boy?”

  “Yeah, ’cause I’m blind as a bat. Butch Miller tried to make me eat bugs yesterday.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause that’s what bats eat, P.”

  “The moment we start making money, we’re going to get new glasses for you,” she promised. He needed stronger lenses—these lenses were barely adequate. Yesterday he’d bumped into the door and bloodied his nose, and she knew it was because he couldn’t see clearly.

  “Why do I even have to go to school? You could teach me at home.”

  “I have a gold mine to run.”

  “No, you don’t. You’re trying to get someone to run it for you. Once you do, then you can teach me at home, hmm, P? Then I won’t have to put up with Butch Miller anymore.”

  “I can’t do that, Wilson. Money will be extremely tight, and I’ll have to work no matter who I get to run the mine.” She gave him a quick hug. “Besides, it’ll do you good to be around children your own age. You’ll make friends. The others will warm to you.”

  “They won’t. They’re mean. Butch Miller took my sandwich yesterday and threw it down the privy hole. I was hungry all day.”

  “Did you tell Miss Perkins?”

  He looked aghast. “No! Butch would’ve creamed me!”

  Oh, Patience wished she knew how to fight! She would teach Wilson how to hold his own against bullies like Butch Miller! She caught herself, knowing that the Good Book said to turn the other cheek—but there were some folks you had to allow for, and it sounded like Butch was one of them.

  “If Butch Miller takes your sandwich today, you tell Miss Perkins, you hear?”

  Wilson sighed. “I can’t.”

  “Well, for heaven’s sake, why not?”

  “’Cause he’ll just take my apple too.”

  After depositing Wilson on the school steps, Patience went straight to the mercantile, hurrying up the steps so lost in thought that she slammed into Sheriff Longer, almost knocking herself off-balance. She grabbed at him instinctively.

  His arms went around her, breaking her fall. He grinned down at her. “You in a hurry this morning?”

  She was all too awar
e of his nearness. When he made no effort to release her, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away. “I’m sorry. I should have been watching where I was going.”

  “Don’t apologize. It’s always a pleasure running into you.”

  She flushed, remembering the way she had clutched at him. “I thought you would’ve gone back to Denver City. You do still have a job there, don’t you?”

  He shrugged. “I’d be in Denver City right now if you weren’t so bullheaded.

  She stiffened. “I am merely taking care of business.”

  “And it doesn’t concern me?”

  “That’s right.”

  His expression softened. “Look, Miss Smith, you’ve done your best, but it isn’t going to work. You aren’t going to find a crew. Give it up and go home. You’re fighting a losing battle.”

  She looked up at him, near tears. “You don’t understand. I can’t quit. You’re a man. You can’t know what it’s like to be alone with no money, no job, no home. Well, that’s what it’s like for me and for Mary, Lily, and Harper, and for Wilson too. That mine is our only chance. I have to make it pay.”

  She pushed past him and entered the mercantile.

  Jay stared after her. Now why did she have to go and get womanly on him? He could handle it as long as she was as prickly as a hedgehog cactus, but he’d seen tears in her eyes, and now he felt like a heel. He walked off with a sinking feeling that he was going to hang around Fiddle Creek and the Mule Head a little longer.

  Using the money Jay had left her, Patience bought a half pound of sugar, three apples, half a pound of tea, and a spool of white thread before the women started to arrive.

  The more she thought about her new plan, the more she warmed to it. Women working in the Mule Head. Not only would they enjoy the added income, they could also take pride in the fact that they were lending a sister a helping hand, and she doubted few, if any, believed in ghosts.

  One by one the women came into the store, their conversations ranging from diaper rash to peach butter. When the most recent gossip, innuendoes, and rumors were adequately oohed and aahed over, they started to browse.

  Patience approached each one singly, striking up a friendly conversation. “Hello! My name is Patience.”