She shook her head, puzzled. “You’re confusing me.”
He reached over and touched her hand. “I’ll pray for you.”
Her head whipped around to look at him. He was going to pray for her—no one had ever made such an offer before.
She smiled warmly. “Thank you.”
“Now, do you mind if we stop at the Castlemans’ boardinghouse just up the road at Lone Peak? Mrs. Castleman is very nice; I think you’ll like her. We can’t make it all the way to Denver today. I stop over at Mrs. Castleman’s to break up the journey. Is that okay with you?”
Elisabeth shrugged. “Whatever you think.”
Her thoughts were not on the boardinghouse or the trip to Denver; she was still thinking about this man who rode beside her and talked of being saved. The only kind of “saving” she understood at the moment was the way he had come into her life to save her from the horrible nightmare that faced her.
Elisabeth fell silent as the little community unfolded in a valley dominated by a jagged mountain peak. A row of rough pine buildings contained a mercantile, a saloon, a couple of eating establishments, and a stable and blacksmith shop. On the streets winding upward from Main Street she could see half a dozen log houses.
“We need to see to our horses first,” Adam said, drawing rein at the log hitching rail before a large open-ended building that was a combination of blacksmith shop and stable.
A heavyset man was laying a hot iron to a horseshoe, but at the sight of Adam, he plunged the iron into a barrel of water and came striding forward.
“Afternoon, Jake,” Adam called.
Elisabeth looked at the man who was well over six feet tall, with large, blunt features and shaggy gray hair. He shook hands with Adam then glanced at Elisabeth and nodded politely.
“Jake, we’d like to leave our horses to be rubbed down. We’ve traveled quite a few miles. Thought we’d stop over at Mrs. Castleman’s.” He grinned. “Does she still make those good buckwheat pancakes?”
“They’re better than ever.” The big man rubbed his sagging stomach then reached over to stroke the neck of Adam’s horse.
As Adam helped her down, Elisabeth felt as stiff as the board sidewalk beyond the blacksmith shop. She was unaccustomed to riding a horse so many miles, and every muscle in her body ached. Still, she didn’t mind. She had started a new life, and she was beginning to feel hopeful again, now that she had met Adam Pearson.
“No use trying to go farther on an empty stomach,” Adam said as they turned to cross the street. “And I could use a strong cup of coffee. What about you?”
“I suppose,” Elisabeth replied, thinking of her ma’s coffee and the kitchen in which she had grown up.
Swallowing hard, she tried to keep sad thoughts pushed back as they approached a large log house with a restaurant on one end. Passing under a hand-lettered sign that read EATS, they entered the front door and were greeted by a cozy, cheerful room with red-checkered curtains at the window and half a dozen square tables and tall wooden chairs. Most of the people seated at the tables were men dressed in work clothes. Elisabeth dropped her eyes as Adam’s hand touched her elbow protectively and guided her to a quiet table in the corner.
“Mrs. Castleman lost her husband to a mining accident two years ago. They had some money put back, which she used to fix up her place for a boardinghouse and an eating establishment.”
A tiny brunette woman with a friendly smile approached their table and nodded in recognition as she looked at Adam.
“Well, hello! You’ve been a stranger to us lately.”
“I haven’t been in this area. Mrs. Castleman, this is Elisabeth Greenwood. I’m escorting her to Denver, but we need a couple of rooms tonight, if you have them.”
The woman’s little face registered her disappointment. “Sorry, Adam, but I only have one room, and it has to be shared with a Mrs. Martin from Denver.”
Elisabeth’s breath caught. Now what? she wondered.
“Then Elisabeth can take it, and I’ll bunk over at the stable. It won’t be the first time.”
Elisabeth frowned across at him. “Are you sure? I hate to—”
“He won’t mind, dear.” The little woman laid a hand on Elisabeth’s arm. “This is the most agreeable fellow I’ve ever met. Now, you two must be hungry. What can I get for you?”
“Do you have any of those good buckwheat pancakes made up?”
“So happens I do.” She grinned, wreathing her small face in a pleasant glow. “Two orders?”
He looked at Elisabeth. “Sound okay to you?”
“Sounds fine.” She had no appetite, but she knew she must force herself to eat something to make the long journey to the Tillotsons’ house. Suddenly, she found herself thinking of her new life in Denver, and an unexpected feeling of excitement swept over her. Despite the tragedies she had faced, hope seemed to be building in her—perhaps it was having Adam’s encouragement or maybe it was her own unstoppable optimism. Even in crises it seemed to surface as it did now.
“I’ll get a job when we get to Denver,” she said, thinking ahead.
Adam leaned back in the chair, appraising her thoughtfully. “What will you do?”
She hesitated. “I guess I’ll find a job cooking. I know how to do that. Or maybe I could be a chambermaid at one of the hotels.”
Adam nodded, studying his hands. Elisabeth sensed he was worried about something. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing.” A smile touched his lips, and Elisabeth found herself thinking of how handsome he was—so tall and masculine, yet he spoke in a gentle manner, and as far as she could tell, he seemed to possess a heart of gold.
“Well, actually, I suppose I should warn you, there are lots of women looking for work, and many of the jobs are taken.”
Elisabeth frowned. “Where do the women come from?”
“Miners’ wives whose husbands spend all their time up in the hills panning the streams or trapping in the woods. So many people flooded into the territory when gold was discovered at Cherry Creek. Frankly, I think that supply has been exhausted. Now they’re having to range farther. Money is scarce, and most wives don’t see their husbands for weeks, or sometimes months.”
“That doesn’t sound like a very good life for those women.” But then she thought of her mother, and a pang of sadness touched her heart. “It’s the way things are, I guess. All women have to work hard now,” she said with a deep sigh.
The pancakes arrived—huge, round cakes drizzled with butter and honey—and Elisabeth’s mouth watered. Maybe she was hungrier than she thought.
They fell silent as they began to eat; then Elisabeth asked the question that had been puzzling her for the past hour. “How long will you be in Denver?”
“Just long enough to get you settled, check in with my home church, rest a day or so, then head out again.”
“Oh. And how long are you out on your circuit?”
“Well,”—he lifted his fork and speared into a huge pancake—“I’ll be out a long time. I only come into Denver a few times a year to buy supplies and meet with my mission board. The rest of the time, I use my cabin as headquarters and branch out across the back side of the Rockies.”
Elisabeth stared at him. “I guess it’s a miracle we met.”
A tiny smile lit his dark eyes. “Honestly, it is. I came to your post for the first time the other day when I had to make a trip down to Colorado City to meet with another missionary. I like to compare their method of witnessing and delivering Bibles to the way we do things up here. Also, they have news from other mission posts. I do stop in at Black Hawk’s camp when I’m on that road. I’m hoping soon to deliver some Bibles to them and try to teach them something about the Word of God.”
The pancake grew heavy in her mouth as Elisabeth stared at him, trying to imagine him out doing this kind of work. It was so different from anything she had ever heard about. “Do you plan to keep doing this…this mission work for the rest of your life?”
His eyes drifted slowly over her features, and she wondered what he was thinking. “Always,” he said with conviction.
“Oh.” She tried to suppress the sigh forming in her chest. He was such a kind, likable man. Why couldn’t he be a merchant, or do some kind of work in Denver? That way maybe there would be a chance she could see him more often. But with his job, she knew she would rarely see him, and she found herself growing oddly sad.
“You’ll like being with the Tillotsons,” he said, shifting in his chair and looking around the room. “They’re a very nice older couple. Since he retired, though, his health has not been good. I think the cold winters make him worse. They’ve talked of going south, but I don’t think they plan to do that yet.”
“Well,” Elisabeth said hastily, “I don’t want to be any trouble to them. As soon as I get a job, I can move into a boardinghouse like this one.”
Adam nodded, yet there was a small frown gathering between his brows. Elisabeth wondered what he was thinking.
It was good she couldn’t read his thoughts, for they were troubled. Jobs, like inexpensive rooms, were scarce in Denver. She was a beautiful woman who was going to attract a lot of men, and he greatly feared what could happen to such an innocent girl in this restless city.
He dropped his eyes to his pancakes and tried not to think about it now. His responsibility was to get her to the Tillotsons’ then pray that she could make a new life in Denver.
A heavy feeling tugged at his heart. He was afraid he was going to have a hard time riding off, forgetting her. Already, there were strong feelings for this woman churning in his heart, although he didn’t see how there could be a future for them. He couldn’t expect a woman to share his rough life, and he could sense that Elisabeth didn’t have the same faith in God that he did.
As he pushed his empty plate aside and sipped at his coffee, he knew tonight’s prayers would last longer than usual.
Chapter Eight
Elisabeth’s room was comfortable, even with only the bare necessities—two iron cots, two washstands, a couple of chairs, and a small rag rug that covered less than three square feet of the cold plank floor. She shared the room with an older woman who slept with her mouth open.
Elisabeth tossed and turned on her cot throughout the night, listening to Mrs. Martin’s snore. It had been a relief when finally the morning sunlight slipped into the room and Mrs. Martin roused from her bed.
She was the matronly type, in her forties, whose gray eyes were filled with despair as she related her life’s story to Elisabeth.
“We never should have left Texas! But Harold swore he’d strike it rich if we could just sell our little spread and join the wagon train heading to Pike’s Peak.” Tears welled in her eyes. “We’ve spent most of our money, and now Harold’s living up in the mountains like an animal, waiting for the weather to break so he can strike it rich.” She shook her head, her eyes betraying her bitterness. “We never should have left Texas!”
Elisabeth took a deep breath, trying to think how to console her. “Maybe your husband will find some gold this time.”
The woman continued shaking her head miserably. “Either a fellow’s lucky or he’s not. My Harold’s been unlucky all his life.” The corners of her mouth sagged downward in a perpetual expression of defeat.
As Elisabeth looked at the woman, she felt a rush of pity for her. Were these the kind of people Adam was witnessing to up in the mountains and backcountry? If so, he was doing a wonderful work, for Elisabeth didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone look so miserable. She’d tried to think what she could say to help. She thought about what the woman had said about her husband’s bad “luck.” It was a silly word. She wished she knew what kind of advice Adam would offer, so that she could speak the right words now to this woman who desperately needed hope and encouragement.
She remembered what Adam had said to her; the words had almost instantly made her feel better. She took a breath and looked at Mrs. Martin.
“I’ll pray for you,” Elisabeth said, although she wasn’t certain what such a prayer would hold.
The woman looked startled; then she began to smile as she dabbed at her eyes with a worn handkerchief. “Thank you, dear. I know God can help; He is the only One who can help us now.”
Elisabeth had changed into a long-sleeved, dark-print dress, hoping it would be fashionable enough for Denver. Winding her long hair into a braided chignon, she inserted the hairpins carefully, studying the dark eyes that peered at her through the looking glass.
For no reason she could think of, she was remembering the pain and agony she had seen in Morning Dove’s dark eyes and the suffering she had endured.
Elisabeth closed her eyes, willing her mind to shut off the memory. She had done what she could to help; now she must put the experience out of her thoughts. They had made a mistake, that was all. Even though her eyes and hair were dark, her skin was too light, her features too small. She was not the daughter of an Indian woman, she was certain of that.
Thinking she had put the matter to rest, she thrust her feet in her kid boots and went downstairs to meet Adam.
“Good morning,” he called to her. He was waiting in the front hall, dressed in a clean flannel shirt and tan trousers. His thick, dark hair was neatly combed, and his brown eyes glowed as he watched her approach.
“Good morning.” She smiled up at him.
Her eyes locked with his for a moment before he cleared his throat and looked around.
“Hungry?” he asked.
She shrugged. “No. Look, Adam, about this expense money—”
“I am allowed expense money in my missionary work. You can repay me once you get a job in Denver.”
She frowned. “I don’t know how long that will be.” She had thought of something the night before, however, and she was quick to share the idea with Adam. “Once we get to Denver, will you help me sell my mare?”
Adam looked surprised. “Won’t you need to keep her?”
She shook her head. “I can get another horse later on, and I need the money. Please, Adam, will you help me?”
He nodded thoughtfully. “If that’s what you want to do. She’s a stout little mare, and I’m certain we won’t have any trouble finding a buyer. A good horse is always in demand.”
Elisabeth breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a bit more independent. Now she didn’t feel so bad about taking money from him. It’s only a temporary loan until we reach Denver, she told herself.
“Let’s not worry anymore. Try to relax and let’s get some breakfast.”
Elisabeth nodded, realizing she was beginning to depend on Adam too much. And yet there was more than dependence involved. She had feelings for Adam; she had felt something the very first time she saw him at the post—she had to squelch those feelings.
Elisabeth forced herself to look toward Mrs. Castleman, who was entering the front door. She needed to thank her for her kindness and then say good-bye. She had a new life in Denver to think about.
As they rode toward Denver, Elisabeth enjoyed the view of sweeping mountains and open valleys. Occasionally, an antelope or deer bounded across the meadow or darted daringly in front of them. Her mind drifted back to the post and the years she had spent there. It seemed like another lifetime, and not a happy one.
They stopped for lunch at the home of a farmer whose wife served travelers as a means of helping with their income, or so Adam had told her. They dined on fried venison, creamed potatoes, and thick gravy in large bowls on one long table.
Two older men, traveling together, sat across from Elisabeth and Adam.
“What’s going on in the outside world?” Adam asked conversationally.
“The war down south’s heating up,” one man complained.
A deep frown knitted Adam’s dark brows. “Do you think it will end anytime soon?”
“Don’t know what will happen,” the man answered. “But Governor Gilpin’s letting too many deserters into our territory.”
&
nbsp; “What do you think of our governor?” Adam asked, looking from one man to the other.
“Gilpin’s supposed to be an expert when it comes to civil government. He’s already touring the mining camps, taking a census of the population of the Colorado Territory. There’ll be an election to choose delegates to Congress and legislature.”
“We’re getting too civilized,” the other man grumbled, taking a deep sip of coffee.
“There’s been more trouble between the Utes and Arapahos,” the more congenial man continued, undaunted by his friend’s gruffness. “And the Cheyennes are giving newcomers out on the plains a hard time.”
“I’ve yet to meet an Indian that wasn’t a savage,” the grumpy man put in.
“Oh, I don’t agree,” Adam drawled. “I travel around the territory, visiting some of the camps. They’ve always been good to me. But maybe that’s because I’m part Indian myself.”
A tense silence fell over the group. Elisabeth leaped to her feet.
“I’d like to go,” she said quickly, glancing at the men who were watching Adam then her. Were they looking at her a bit differently, too? Did she look like a half-breed? Was she?
Her arm swept out, carelessly knocking her water glass to the floor. At the sound of broken glass, the farmer’s wife scurried out of the kitchen with a broom and a dustpan.
“I’m so sorry,” Elisabeth mumbled, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. She glanced desperately at Adam.
“Could we pay for the glass?”
“Isn’t necessary,” the woman replied, busily sweeping up the shards of glass.
“I am sorry,” Elisabeth said in a rush then hurried out the door.
Outside, she breathed deeply of the crisp, cold air, wondering what on earth had come over her. She was acting ridiculous, behaving as though she felt guilty about something.
She heard the door close as Adam rushed to her side. “Why are you acting this way?” For the first time Adam’s tone held an edge of irritation.
“I can’t help it. Their talk of savages!”
Journey of the Heart Page 21