The Mother Lode

by Gary Franklin

  “That he did,” Joe agreed. “Where can I find his house and studio?”

  “Just up the street two blocks and turn over one block. He’s got a sign out and you can’t miss his house.”

  “Thank you,” Joe said, his heart starting to hammer in his chest. “Thank you very much.”

  “Mister, it’s smart to have Faxon take a picture of you and that dog,” the man said as Joe was going out the door. “I’ve never seen anything like him.”

  “He’s different,” Joe agreed.

  He had no trouble finding the Roderus studio. Faxon had a big sign outside on his lawn advertising his business. It was a nice little wooden house with a picket fence around it and everything was painted yellow. There were flowers in a garden, and it was the kind of a place Fiona would enjoy.

  “Well,” he said to himself and his new dog, “here we go. If she’s here, my heart might just give out on me after so many years.”

  Joe opened the picket gate and walked up to the door. His knees were knocking and he felt a little weightless even though he was no longer a young man. He knocked on the door, and a voice answered that left no doubt in his mind that it belonged to the love of his life.

  “Fiona!”

  Joe couldn’t contain himself a moment longer. Couldn’t wait for his beloved to come to the door and see him after four long years of waiting and wanting. “Fiona!”

  He almost tore the door off its hinges as he bounded inside with Rip on his heels. Fiona was coming up the dim hallway. When she saw Joe and the giant dog, she staggered, then fainted dead away.

  “Holy shit!” Joe cried. “Maybe her heart gave out from the joy!”

  He ran to Fiona’s side and gathered her up in his arms. She felt some heavier than he’d remembered . . . or maybe he was some weaker. Didn’t matter, really.

  “Hey!” a man yelled from the back of the house. “What the . . . what are you doin’!”

  Joe was momentarily at a loss for words. “I . . . I . . .”

  “Put that woman down!”

  “Where?”

  Faxon Roderus charged up the hallway. “Give her to me!”

  “Not on your life, Mr. Roderus. Get a doctor!”

  “Bring her in here,” the man said, rushing off with Joe on his heels. “Lay her on that couch. What did you do to her!”

  Before Joe could answer, another young woman came running in through the back door and kitchen. Her hands were covered with dirt and Joe knew she had been working in her garden. “What have you done to Fiona!” the young woman screeched.

  “Dammit,” Joe cried, “I just . . . just showed up to claim her! I think she’s just fainted away.”

  Now both of them spied Rip, who had worked his way down the hall to see what all the commotion was about. The woman’s hand flew to her mouth and she screamed. Faxon Roderus jumped for a weapon. Rip growled at his display of aggression as the ruff went up on his back. Roderus found a broom not fit to whip a good-sized cat, but Joe knocked it out of the man’s hands.

  “Are you folks crazy? I’m Joe Moss! I’m the man that fathered a child with Fiona and has come to marry her and reclaim our daughter Jessica up in Virginia City. Would you folks calm yourselves down a mite and help me see to her?”

  “You’re Joe Moss,” the woman said, staring.

  “In the flesh. Now help me with Fiona.”

  After that, they all spent several frantic minutes trying to revive Fiona. Rip sat down on a rug and glared at the scene as if he blamed Joe for getting him into this excitable mess.

  Joe and Fiona were together at last and both still deeply in love. Joe held the only woman he’d ever really loved in his strong arms and nearly cried, telling Fiona about all the troubles he’d had trying to find her, but vowing that it had been well worth it.

  Fiona said, “My father forced me to marry that man in California, Joe, thinking he’d get rich off my new husband’s claim. But it had been worked out and . . . do you mind if I just don’t talk about it now?”

  “Nope,” Joe said, deciding not to ruin this long-overdue time of joy to tell her that her father was dead. “Fiona, what is done is done. All that counts now is that we’re together and we ain’t ever going to be parted again. And we’re going to go up to Virginia City and get Jessica from the Catholics. But why’d you go and do that to our little Jessica?”

  “I was being hunted like a murderess,” Fiona confessed. “I had to leave that night that Mr. Peabody was killed or I’d have been lynched. And I knew that I couldn’t take our daughter on the run, so I left her at St. Mary’s because I was sure that they’d take loving care of her. Joe, I’m sorry!”

  He held her close and let her cry it out. “We’ve both got a lot of talking to do and explaining,” Joe said. “I guess we’ve made some bad mistakes these past four years, and the worst one I ever made was leaving the wagon train without you.”

  “I had to stay,” she whispered. “As you well know, I’d given my word to my mother on her deathbed. I just never thought it would be four years until I’d see and hold you again.”

  “I’ve been hurt pretty bad a few times.”

  She studied his face. “I can see that, Joe. I can see that you’ve been hurt very badly. But is your heart still good? Getting hurt didn’t turn you mean inside, did it?”

  “No,” he told her. “But the last beating I got was from the Peabody brothers, and I took revenge on ’em not long ago and blew up their Shamrock Mine with dynamite.”

  Fiona’s eyes widened. “Oh, my heavens! Now they’ll want to kill you, too.”

  “I reckon so,” Joe replied, deciding it served no purpose to tell Fiona about the bounty hunter that had been paid to hunt her down for three hundred dollars. “But like I said, what is past is past. Now, we’ve got to get our daughter and leave this part of the country and go where the Peabody men will never find us.”

  “Is there such a place, Joe?” she asked, hugging him tightly. “I’m afraid that we’ll never rest easy because they won’t ever give up.”

  “There are wild, but safe, hiding places in Montana, the Dakotas, Wyoming, and Colorado where we won’t be found. Places where the Indians know and respect me and would not let white bounty hunters track and kill us. So, yes, darlin’, I know places where we can go and never even have to worry about our past.”

  She kissed him on the mouth, and tears were streaming down her pretty cheeks. “Joe, let’s go get our daughter and leave Nevada forever.”

  “That’s what we’re going to do,” Joe promised. “But before we go up there and face that priest and those nuns, I . . . I want us to be married legal.”

  Fiona cried out with delight. “Oh, Joe, that is what I want too! Let me ask Faxon if he will send for a preacher. We could be married right here in this house within the hour, couldn’t we? Couldn’t we? And Faxon and Milly will stand up for us, Joe!”

  “You bet that we could. Have they got a nice bedroom for us to . . . well, you know.”

  Fiona giggled just like the girl he remembered falling in love with on that wagon train from St. Louis long ago. “Joe, darling, my bedroom has a double bed and it’ll serve us well.”

  They were both blushing when they went out hand in hand to see if Mr. and Mrs. Faxon Roderus would send for a preacher and allow their wedding to be held in their sweet little house and studio.

  31

  JOE BOUGHT FIONA a pretty bay mare and saddle in Lake’s Crossing. The sorrel mare was as tall as his Palouse horse and probably faster; he’d paid more for her than he’d ever spent on any two horses.

  “You need a fast, strong horse,” Joe told her as they rode back up steep Geiger Grade toward Virginia City. “And you also have need of this gun and rifle.”

  He gave her his own weapons, and kept those that he’d gotten from Ike Grady. “Can you shoot?”

  Fiona nodded. “I’m a fair shot with a rifle, not too good with a pistol. But, Joe, I don’t want to have to shoot and kill the Peabody men or anyone else.�
��

  Joe was itching to ask her about the death of Mr. Chester J. Peabody, but decided that she would explain how her butcher knife had ended up in the prominent man’s back when the time to tell was to her liking. Or maybe she’d never be able to talk about it, which was all right with Joe, who had killed dozens of men in his days when they’d needed killing.

  “Fiona,” he said, “we’re hopin’ not to have to shoot anybody up on the Comstock Lode, but you have to be ready for whatever trouble comes. Those weapons are loaded and they shoot straight.”

  Fiona wrapped the gun belt loosely around her waist and pushed Joe’s rifle into her scabbard. “I’m so happy now that we’re married and together at last that I’m frightened half to death something is about to go terribly wrong.”

  “I’ve got the same worry,” Joe confessed. “All my life I’ve never felt that I’ve had much to lose, but now that I do, it’s makin’ me jumpy.”

  Joe had told Fiona all about Ellen Johnson, Dr. Taylor, and Mrs. Hamilton and her fine Virginia City mansion. “There are a lot of nice folks up on the Comstock Lode. I especially like Dr. Taylor and Dan DeQuille. And . . . well, you won’t believe this . . . but I learned to read, Fiona. Now I can read and write.”

  She laughed. “Joe, that’s wonderful! I thought I’d be the one to finally teach you, but that’s fine.” She winked at him and it made his heart flutter. “We’ll have all kinds of other nice things to do, won’t we.”

  Joe gulped and thought about their wedding night so fresh in his mind. He could think of plenty of things they could do that were nice and not so nice. What a night they had had together! Compared to the hurried times they’d made love while traveling with the wagon train, last night at the Roderus house was absolutely the best ever and they’d not been able to get enough of each other. In fact, they’d made love standing up and giggling right in the middle of packing to leave this morning. And it had probably shown because Faxon and his wife had been blushing as bad as themselves when they’d said good-bye.

  “Come back and visit when you’ve had your honeymoon and need a little change of scenery,” Faxon had urged. “You’ll always be welcome here.”

  It had been a tearful farewell for Fiona and Milly. Joe knew that they couldn’t come back and visit . . . ever . . . even if they wanted, because of the Peabody brothers.

  But now the sun was shining and the air was scented with sage because the rain had softly fallen early this morning. Joe and Fiona had to ride their horses off to the side of the road just before they reached Virginia City in order to let two huge freight wagons pass. They found a good spot to let their horses blow while they dismounted and stretched their legs. Rip spotted a jackrabbit and went after it with a vengeance. He overtook and caught the rabbit, then brought it back and enjoyed his usual nourishment. Rip even ate the bones, but he did spit out the hair and those long ears.

  “That dog of yours is kinda scary because he’s so big, fast, and vicious,” Fiona said, keeping her distance from Joe’s wolf-dog.

  “Once he figures out that you’re his friend, you’ll never have a better or more loyal one,” Joe replied.

  Fiona returned to gazing off toward the west. From their vantage point they could look far out across Lake’s Crossing to admire the silver thread that was the Truckee River. Towering above it all stood the magnificent Sierra Nevada Mountains.

  “Will the mountains where you take us be as beautiful as these?” Fiona asked, her dark eyes luminous with happiness.

  “They will be,” he promised. “I think we’ll head for the Teton Range up in Wyoming. Those peaks are not as big, but they’re more jagged. They lift right out of the ground, Fiona, not like these that sorta slope up to the sky. Wait until you see the Tetons.”

  “I can hardly wait. But mostly, I’m yearning to see our daughter and my father.”

  At the mention of her father, Joe’s smile faded. He supposed that he had to tell her about the death of old Brendan McCarthy. However, Joe felt he was doing no wrong when he gilded the lily just a bit and ended up saying, “Your father had stopped drinking up in Virginia City and was happy when he suddenly died of heart failure. And his last words were of you, Fiona. And of his granddaughter. He loved you both very much.”

  Fiona cried and made him promise that they could visit her father’s grave, if only for a few minutes, before leaving the Comstock Lode.

  “Sure,” Joe said, knowing he couldn’t deny his new bride this last farewell. “But first we’ll get Jessica and we’ll all say good-bye to your father on our way out.”

  Joe helped Fiona back into the saddle and they rode on into Virginia City, sticking to the back streets because neither of them wanted to be seen or recognized.

  “Oh, my gawd!” Joe shouted, standing upright in his stirrups.

  “What!”

  “Beth Hamilton’s mansion has burned to the ground!”

  Joe spurred his Palouse hard and Fiona was right behind. When they reached the mansion, the ashes were cold, so it was clear that the mansion had burned a day or two before. Joe dismounted and surveyed the devastation, shaking his head in sadness and almost disbelief. The stable where Jasper, Beth’s horse, had been was still standing unhurt, but the horses had been taken away.

  “Is this what’s left of the mansion you were staying at?” Fiona asked.

  “Yeah,” Joe whispered. “I hope that Beth and Ellen weren’t inside when it all went up in flames.”

  “What could have happened?”

  Joe had a bad feeling about the answer to that question. Not so long ago, he had dynamited the Shamrock Mine and burned down Ike Grady’s shack. Had the Peabody brothers somehow already made the connection, and taken revenge on poor Mrs. Hamilton while hoping to catch him asleep in the night?

  “Hold my reins for a minute,” Joe said, handing them to Fiona and then hurrying into the barn.

  Just like the Mormon Eli Purvis, Joe had chosen to hide his money in a metal box or can in the barn. And now he dug up the can and counted the money that he had left from the sale of the wagon and horses he’d taken up at Lake Tahoe along with the timber he’d sold. It came to just over four thousand dollars, and Joe figured he and Fiona had earned every penny of it.

  Joe tossed the big tin can aside and handed a fistful of money to Fiona, whose eyes widened with surprise. “Joe, where did you get all this money?”

  “Here and there,” he said. “Put it deep in a pocket.”

  “But why don’t you hold onto it?”

  “I’m keepin’ a thousand and you’ve got about three. It’s always best to divvy it up just in case there’s trouble.”

  Fiona tried to hand the money back to Joe, but he wouldn’t hear of it, so she gave up for the time being.

  “Where can we find your friends Beth and Ellen?” Fiona asked.

  “I don’t know,” he replied, getting a real bad feeling down deep inside. “But I think we had better get Jessica back from the Catholics and leave.”

  “Without even knowing what happened to Beth and Ellen?” Fiona asked, clearly upset.

  “We can ask about the fire and those ladies when we get down to St. Mary’s to claim our Jessica. They’ll know all about what happened here just in the few days I was gone.”

  Fiona handed Joe his reins and he vaulted into the saddle. “Fiona, I got a feeling we’re runnin’ out of time up here. Let’s hurry, girl!”

  Down the mountainside they trotted to the beautiful Catholic church. Joe and Fiona tied their horses at the gate and rushed inside to claim Jessica, but Father O’Connor intercepted them in the hallway.

  “It’s you!” he said, his voice hard as he confronted Fiona, and then turned his attention to Joe. “Haven’t you brought enough heartache to that child already!”

  “We’ll get to that in a minute, Father. But first, what happened up at the Hamilton Mansion? Are Mrs. Hamilton and Mrs. Ellen Johnson all right?”

  “They’re fine. It was arson. Someone torched the mansion in the m
iddle of the night. But they escaped and are staying at a hotel up on C Street.”

  Joe’s broad shoulders sagged with relief. “I sure am glad to hear that.”

  “It had something to do with you, Mr. Moss. You are in great danger right now.”

  “Where is our Jessica?” Joe demanded. “We’ve come for her, Father, and we ain’t leaving without our daughter.”

  “Your lives are in danger and you’re not even married!”

  “We are now,” Joe announced, proudly dragging yesterday’s marriage certificate out of his shirt pocket. “Where is she, Father?”

  The priest studied the marriage certificate with shaking hands, and then looked from one to the other before saying, “Please, for the love of God, you must understand that Jessica is happy here . . . and safe. Don’t you realize the danger that child will also be in if you take her with you?”

  But Fiona wasn’t listening. “Father O’Connor, you swore to me that I could have her back. And now I’ve legally got her father’s name to give to the child.”

  “This is just all wrong,” the priest said stubbornly.

  “She’s ours!” Fiona cried. “And you gave me your word that you’d only keep her until I returned.”

  “There’s blood on both your hands!” O’Connor shouted. “And I just can’t in God’s good name—”

  Joe had heard enough. He knew that the priest believed he was doing what was best for Jessica, but the man was wrong. He and Fiona were going to start a new life together up in Wyoming. Far away from all the blood and trouble of their past. He would teach Jessica to swim in clear creeks, track animals, ride horses, judge the weather, and discover the beauty of nature in every leaf, flower, and blade of sweet meadow grass.

  “I’ll go find her,” Joe said, breaking away and starting toward the church.

  “No!” the priest cried. “Please, they’re watching and you’ve walked into their trap!”

  Joe stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around to face the priest. “Who is watching?”

  Father O’Connor raised his hand and pointed to the horsemen that were suddenly surging over a hilltop not more than a half mile to the east. “I think you know who they are and why they’re coming for you both. Your only chance is to get on your horses and ride. I’ll try to stop them. Make them understand that mercy is . . . .”