Uncle Nick laughed, too. “Yeah, an’ then beddin’ down for the night someplace in the hills and sleepin’ so hard nothin’ could wake ya, till that smell o’ his cakes on the griddle worked its way into yer nose, and suddenly you was awake an’ the sun was halfway up the sky, an’ it was time to eat and get in the saddle again!”
Pa smiled, but said nothing. Zack and I didn’t want to say anything. We were both listening to them reminisce about the old days. But after a while I found myself as fascinated with watching Pa’s face as listening to his voice.
The light from the flames of the fire seemed to bring different things to my mind as I watched. One moment I saw the hard, stern man I’d been afraid of when I first laid eyes on him that day outside the Gold Nugget in Miracle Springs. The slight squint of his eyes and just the hint of an indentation below his cheekbones made him look cold, as if he didn’t care much about feelings. But then when the light hit more full, and I could see into his eyes, then all at once I saw that maybe he had felt things too much.
Maybe the severe look was really a soberness that had come from years of feeling things so deeply that he tried to keep his face from showing what was going on inside. I thought I could see a tiredness in the eyes, too—a weariness from the unsettled life of being on the run for so long. And now here he was again having to hide from someone who was after them, and because of Uncle Nick, just like before.
It was probably silly of me to sit staring at my own Pa, trying to figure out things like that. But ever since I’d started keeping a journal, I found myself thinking more and more about the inside of people and experiences instead of just the outside. And so I couldn’t help doing that when I looked at Pa’s face and heard him talk about when he and Nick rode together.
It was a good face, I thought—even with two or three days’ whiskers. Rugged, I suppose, but I wouldn’t call it craggy or sharp. The cheekbones, the chin, the nose were all hard-edged. Pa didn’t have any extra fat on him, although his shoulders were big and he wasn’t lean. And his dark brown hair coming down just over his ears and spilling down his sideburns onto his cheeks, with just a little bit of gray showing here and there—all put together, I liked Pa’s looks. He showed himself as a man that could take care of things. Yet the few times we’d talked seriously, and the time when he’d first told me about leaving the East, there was an earnest tone in his voice that showed he was sensitive, too. Pa looked like the kind of man who wouldn’t be out of place in either a gunfight or a quiet talk with a woman.
I found my thoughts drifting to Mrs. Parrish. I wished she could see the deep look in Pa’s eyes that I was seeing right then. I wanted her to know what a fine man Pa was, even though he’d had a past life that was different from her Rev. Rutledge. I wanted her to be able to see the feelings that were beneath the hard shell that Pa showed to the rest of the world. They were certainly getting along better now than at first, but I wanted them to become friends. Well, maybe someday . . .
“What are you thinking about, Pa?” I said finally, not planning to say it and almost surprised at the words when I heard them.
For a long moment Pa just kept looking into the fire. Then he took a deep sigh, pulled his gaze off the orange and red coals, and looked over at me. “I was thinkin’ about your ma, Corrie,” he said, then gave me a little smile. Even in the firelight, his eyes were bright with tears. I smiled back.
Then all at once he turned to Uncle Nick and said, “Now, Nick, I wanna know just what the devil happened back there in Dutch Flat to get Hatch so all-fired hot to put a slug through you!”
Uncle Nick laughed. “It was a card game,” he answered.
“Somehow I ain’t surprised,” said Pa.
“But ya shoulda seen it, Drum! It was the perfect set-up! I couldn’t lose!”
“Except that you were settin’ up to fleece Grizzly Hatch! Ain’t you heard of him?”
“Yeah, but I never believe half the things I hear.”
“Well you shoulda believed it in his case! So tell me what happened.”
“Well, Barton was dealin’, and he called five card stud. I had the seven of clubs underneath, an’ my first up card was the seven of hearts. Well, nobody else had much of anythin’, and when the seven of diamonds fell down on my pile for my fourth card, showin’ just a measly pair o’ sevens, I was high man. Now Hatch, meanwhile, had all spades but nothing else. But he was startin’ to put some good-sized money in the pot, an’ when the fifth card came his eyes flashed, an’ he threw in all he had. That’s when I knew he didn’t know nothin’ ’bout that declarin’ rule—you heard of it, ain’t ya?”
“Yeah, I heard somethin’ about it,” answered Pa, “but I ain’t never seen no game run that way. I heard there’s talk of takin’ it outta the rulebook.”
“Well, they ain’t taken it out yet,” said Uncle Nick. “An’ so ya see, Hatch had to figure he had me cold. The second his last spade came up, he knew he had his flush and he had to figure me for three sevens at most. He had me an’ he bet the pot. But I knew I had him! My only risk was whether they had a Hoyle around. So I called him, an’ the pot musta been two or three hundred. His eyes lit up an’ he turned over his last spade, and reached out to scoop in the dough.
“‘Just a minute, Hatch,’ I said. ‘Far as I can tell, you got nothin’ that can go up against my three sevens. That pot’s mine.’
“‘What’re ya tryin’ to pull, Matthews?’ says Hatch. ‘Open yer fool eyes! I got me a flush.’
“‘I can see that,’ I said, ‘but in this game, three of a kind beats a flush.’
“By this time Hatch was gettin’ plenty riled.
“‘Anybody got a book o’ Hoyle around here?’ I asked. The feller that runs the place said he did. He went behind the counter, got the book, gave it to me, and I found the spot where the special poker rules was discussed. I read it real slow an’ deliberate-like: ‘In five or seven card stud poker, the flush and the straight are not played unless it is declared in advance by the dealer.’
“Everybody’s mouths fell open, an’ Barton grabbed the book outta my hand mutterin’ that he hadn’t never heard o’ that rule. But then when Hatch asked him what it said—that fool Hatch can’t read a word himself—after a couple seconds Barton just said, ‘I’m afraid he’s got you dead to rights, Grizzly. That’s what the book says.’
“‘An’ I didn’t hear no one declare it,’ I said. ‘So I reckon my three sevens is high after all.’”
“And what happened to the pot?” asked Pa.
“Well, it was no secret now that the game was over. I put the money in my saddlebag an’ left.”
“So now Hatch has his money back, your money, and your horse! When are you gonna learn, Nick, that it never pays? And now you got him tryin’ to put a bullet in yer hide besides! You don’t need that kind of trouble! You’re just gonna land us back into the same kind of fix we were in back in New York if you don’t cut out that kind of nonsense!”
Uncle Nick fell into one of his quiet, sulking moods.
“It’s just a good thing these kids showed up when they did! If it hadn’t been for them, Nick, you’d be a dead man by now! There was nothing I coulda done to get to Hatch the way he was positioned, and if he’d kept firin’ into that cave, he’d have got you sooner or later.”
Pa paused, then looked over at me.
“By the way, you ain’t told me why you two did come, Corrie. And how in tarnation’d ya find us, anyway?”
Suddenly I remembered!
“Oh, Pa, I forgot!” I exclaimed. “Everything started happening so fast after we got to Dutch Flat and those men said you were in trouble. I plumb forgot what I had to tell you!”
“Well, what is it, girl, that’s so all-fired important you had to track me all over the country to tell me?”
“It’s him, Pa! Buck Krebbs! I saw him in San Francisco!”
A cloud instantly spread over Pa’s face that neither the darkness nor the flickering of the dying fire could hide.
“You saw him. Is that all?” he asked solemnly.
“No, Pa. He saw me too, and he followed me and Mrs. Parrish to our hotel, and then when I was alone he sneaked up and grabbed me again, like up by the mine, and I think he was going to hurt me, but I got away and ran from him!”
By this time Pa was real serious and staring intently at me.
“Go on, Corrie,” he said. “Tell me everything.”
“I got away from him. I ran all around through the streets and got back to the hotel.”
“Where was the Parrish woman?”
“She was at her meeting, Pa. It wasn’t her fault. Please don’t be angry with her! She took real good care of me, and she told me to stay in the room till she got back. It was my own doing, going out alone like that.”
Pa nodded.
“But, Pa, after I got away from him, he ran down the street after me and was yelling all sorts of awful things, saying he was going to get you and the money, even if he had to kill us all to do it! I was so scared, Pa. I thought he might be fixing to come to Miracle right then! He sounded so evil, and I thought that seeing me again must have put it into his mind to come back here. And I just had to warn you, Pa!”
I stopped, thinking I was going to start crying. But I forced myself to hold it in.
Pa looked over at me. He knew what I was feeling. He reached out, placed his big hand on mine and gave it a squeeze.
“Everything’s gonna be fine, Corrie Belle,” he said. “Don’t you worry none. Buck Krebbs ain’t gonna kill nobody.”
“But the money, Pa! He’s not gonna stop till he gets the money.”
“There ain’t no money, Corrie.”
“But how we gonna convince that loco fool Krebbs o’ that?” said Uncle Nick.
Pa sighed again. “All the more reason, Nick,” he said finally, “for you to keep outta trouble with characters like Hatch. We ain’t out from behind the trouble from the East that keeps on houndin’ us, an’ it’s gonna take all we can do to get rid of it once an’ for all.”
Again everyone got quiet. Pa stood and grabbed up some more of the of wood we’d gathered and threw it on the fire. Then he came back and sat down, staring into the flames again. But this time I didn’t see a faraway look. Instead it was a look of worry, concern, like he was thinking about what he ought to do.
The next words out of his mouth caused me concern.
“Nope, this ain’t no proper place to raise no kids.” He said it quiet, as if he was just thinking out loud. “Nope, it sure ain’t,” he repeated. “Not for a man like me, alone, the law after me from the East, crazy men trailin’ me lookin’ to put a piece o’ lead in me. No place at all! My kids in danger . . .”
His voice trailed away. I knew he was blaming himself.
“Pa,” I said, “as long as we’re together, everything’ll be fine in the end, won’t it?”
“I don’t know, Corrie,” he said. “It just seems I ain’t no fit pa to take care o’ five kids by myself. Buck Krebbs tryin’ to hurt you, bullets flyin’ outta Hatch’s gun. You an’ Zack in danger there today! That ain’t no way to run a family! And me ridin’ off this mornin’, leavin’ Zack an’ the young’uns alone. What if Krebbs’d shown up then? No, I tell ya, things ain’t right the way they are! I can’t let it keep bein’ this way. You kids need a proper bringin’ up! And I gotta do something to get you one!”
“We’re happy being with you, Pa!” I said, but I don’t think he was listening. He stood up again and walked away. If I had learned anything about Pa, I knew he was thinking real hard.
Pretty soon Zack and I lay down on the softest piece of ground we could find near the fire and pulled the blankets over us. If it hadn’t been for the last bit of the talking, this would have been one of the most pleasant nights to remember since we came to California. It was so peaceful lying there, looking up into the black sky, the faint crackling of the fire in our ears, and the sounds of the crickets and other creatures of the woods.
After a while Uncle Nick pulled his harmonica out of his pocket and started playing softly. I was glad he hadn’t put it in his saddlebag! What a perfect way it was to go to sleep. I could hardly believe this day had started with Mrs. Parrish and Rev. Rutledge in Auburn!
Before long I heard Zack’s breathing change, and I knew he was asleep. The last thing I remember was wondering what Pa could mean to do to get us what he called a proper upbringing. I said a prayer for him, wherever he was right then, out alone walking, and asked God to help him do the right thing.
Chapter 13
Pa’s Surprise Decision
When we got home the next morning, the trouble with Grizzly Hatch died down, and things pretty much went back to normal.
Uncle Nick was upset about losing his horse, and every once in a while he would start muttering about going to get it away from Hatch. But then Pa would remind him what got him into trouble in the first place, ending by saying that if he tried to find Hatch, he’d shoot Uncle Nick himself first.
Everything got back to normal, that is, except Pa. I knew he was thinking about something serious. He’d been different ever since the night around the campfire when he’d gotten up and walked off. Riding home the next day he was quiet, and he’d been like that ever since.
Every so often he’d say something—more to himself than to any of us—like what he’d said that night, about this being no way to bring up a family. But we were all afraid to ask him what he meant or what he was fixing to do. I know I couldn’t help wondering if he was thinking again about sending us kids back East someplace. In my heart I knew Pa would never do it, but I couldn’t help fearing some terrible change. Sometimes he’d go off alone in the woods and just sit, and once I came upon him alone in the barn. He was sitting there on a bale of straw, holding my picture of Ma in his hand, like he was asking her what to do.
When he glanced up at me, I saw one tear roll down his cheek. In that moment, suddenly I wasn’t worried about myself any more, but I hurt for Pa. All at once I realized how hard this decision must be for him—whatever it was about. Maybe he was thinking about packing us all up—him and us together—and leaving Miracle Springs!
That would sure be hard enough on him to make him shed a few tears, because I know he loved this place and the mine. He’d built a new life here, and now he had his family again, and a good claim. Yet there was Hatch and Buck Krebbs and always the danger of something out of his past catching up with him. And Uncle Nick was still wild enough to get Pa and the rest of us into a scrape now and then.
Maybe Pa was right that this wasn’t a proper place to bring up five kids. What if he was thinking about taking us kids and going someplace else, and leaving Uncle Nick behind? Most of the trouble had Uncle Nick’s name on it, one way or the other. Even the trouble with Buck Krebbs and whatever else might follow them from the East had all started from Pa’s trying to help his wife’s younger brother.
But I knew that even though he sometimes treated him like a kid, Pa really loved Uncle Nick. They’d been through all kinds of hardship together, and had been partners together, and sometimes when working at the mine they’d have a good laugh over something. They were friends too.
That would be a hard decision, if he was considering splitting up and leaving. And it was something he might be thinking he had to talk to Ma about, even if all he had left was that picture. After all, Uncle Nick was her brother, and she had loved him too.
All this was just nothing more than speculation in my own mind. I didn’t talk to anyone about it. We were all walking around softly, not wanting to do anything to get Pa upset. But many things ran through my mind—like Pa sending us away, or him going away someplace else with us, or making Uncle Nick leave, or changing all our names from Hollister to something else so nobody could find us. I even feared that one day we’d wake up and find Pa himself gone and never hear from him again. I suppose I knew Pa would never do that again. But sometimes fears and hurts come back out of the past to grab at me and ma
ke me think things I don’t want to think.
Then one day all the fears seemed to come true. I woke up one morning, and Pa was gone.
I was always the first of us five kids awake. I’d get up and go outside for a walk, or I’d read in one of the books Mrs. Parrish had brought me from her trips to Sacramento, or I’d write in my journal. About half the time Pa was up before me, sometimes sitting in front of the fire in the other room in the cabin, sometimes out in the barn or up at the mine.
But on this particular morning, the instant I opened my eyes, I had a feeling that something was different. I got up quickly. Pa wasn’t anywhere in the cabin and there was no fire started. With a growing feeling of dread I jammed my bare feet into my boots and ran outside and to the barn. Jester was gone, along with Pa’s best saddle.
Panic began to seize me, and as I ran out of the barn and up toward the mine I was starting to cry, but I didn’t want to stop and give in to it. I didn’t expect to find Pa at the mine, but I had to look everywhere. He hadn’t said a word about needing to go anywhere, and now he was gone.
If I had stopped to think about it all reasonably, I’d have trusted Pa, but Mrs. Parrish says that people sometimes think with their hearts instead of their heads. And this was one of those times. As I walked slowly back to the barn I was crying, probably more because of the things I’d been wondering than any real fear that Pa had left us. But I wanted to get my crying done and my tears used up before I saw the other kids or Uncle Nick. I didn’t want to try to explain to them how worried I was about what Pa might be fixing to do.
Pa came back about the middle of the afternoon. He didn’t act different or tell us where he’d been right off. But the second he rode up and got down off his horse, I could tell from his eyes that something had happened. His smile and hug were enough to make all my fears vanish—for right then, at least. It was a smile that seemed to still have some of the same anguish in it that I’d seen in his eyes when he was gazing at the picture of Ma. But at least it was a smile, and I was grateful.
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