Golden Dawn

by Hake, Cathy Marie

  “I’m going—not because I’ll have to fish him out. Because we need more water.” He grabbed a pair of buckets and sauntered out.

  They returned with the tub half full of water and set the huge thing directly atop the stove.

  “You can’t do that. I need to dip water out of the reservoir to do dishes.”

  “River’s probably going to freeze over in the next day or two.” Ian looked around. He took a large pot and the pitcher to his washbasin. “Tucker and I decided to go ahead and put by a fair supply of water in advance.”

  “That’s smart, but—” The door shut before she finished.

  Though she’d need hot water to wash the dishes, cool water would work well enough to rinse them. Meredith dipped the rinse basin into the galvanized tub and pulled it out. Next she dipped the dish basin in and filled just the bottom. When the men returned, she insisted, “I need you to move that tub. Even a little.”

  “What’s the rush?” Tucker motioned for her to sit down. “We want to fill the buckets from our place, too.”

  “You’ll be glad we did. You know how cranky your brother gets if he has to go without his coffee.”

  Deciding that she’d have to solve the problem herself, Meredith poured water into two loaf pans and put them in the oven. While waiting for them to heat up, she fiddled about the “kitchen” and straightened the food on the shelves, set the spices back in order, and swept the floor.

  Ian and Tucker returned. Ian scowled at the tub. “Where’s all the water?”

  “I dipped some out so I can do dishes.”

  He dangled his fingers in the water and wiggled them. “Water’s warm. How long ’til it’s hot?”

  “Not long. She drained half of it.” Tucker shot her a disgruntled look.

  “We can add the water from the reservoir.” Ian scanned the room.

  Merry asked, “What do you want?”

  “A pot. You’ve used all of them, haven’t you?”

  “Thanksgiving dinner takes a lot of dishes.” She gestured toward the table.

  Tucker poured the water from the pitcher into the washbasin. “Here.” He shoved the pitcher at Ian.

  “Tucker, tell your sister our bargain.”

  “Okay. Sis, I wash and he dries.”

  “What kind of deal is that?”

  “A smart one.” Ian elbowed Tucker in the ribs. “If he puts the dishes away, you’ll never find anything again.”

  “I—”

  “You’re getting your birthday present from me two days early.” Tucker grinned. “Here.” He pulled something from his pocket and handed it to her.

  She held the item a little closer to the lamp. “Victoria’s English cottage rose glycerin soap. Tucker!” She lifted the beautifully wrapped bar and inhaled deeply. “The fragrance is wonderful. How did you get this?”

  “When Wily was here, I asked him to tell Socks to order it.”

  “Thank you.” She wound her arms around her brother. “I love it!”

  He squeezed her. “While we do the dishes, you’re going to shampoo and soak.”

  Merry laughed for joy. “That’s what the water is all about!”

  “We thought to mix water from the reservoir with the buckets so you could rinse your hair.” Ian motioned for her to move away from the door to the other room. “It’ll take time to heat up more dish water, so you’re to soak to your heart’s content.”

  “I put water in loaf pans in the oven to use for the dishes.”

  “That’ll work, but it still doesn’t mean you have to rush. Tucker, grab a few candles so she’ll have some light.”

  Ian carried the tub, and Tucker grabbed a pair of candles. Meredith followed them into the room. Tucker pulled a towel from beneath his shirt. “Happy birthday.”

  Meredith emerged a long while later. The men had done the dishes and were drinking coffee. “I feel utterly spoiled.”

  Tucker sniffed. “You smell girly.”

  “Thanks to my brother.” She smiled at him. “This was the best birthday present you could have dreamed up. Why don’t you go use the water?”

  Tucker looked horrified. “And smell like roses?”

  “You can use my Ivory.” Ian motioned him toward the stove. “Fill a pitcher from the reservoir and heat up the tub.”

  While Tucker bathed, Ian scooted a stool over toward the oven. “Sit here and sip some coffee. I’ll rub your hair dry.”

  Reaching up and touching the towel wrapped around her head, Meredith hesitated. “I’ll wait ’til I get home.”

  “It’s too cold out for that. Here.” He patted the stool. “I didn’t mean to offend you. If you feel it’s improper for me to help you, then please still take care of yourself. Would you like to borrow my comb?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  He handed her his comb. “Whatever I have, you only need ask.”

  “You’re too generous.”

  “Nay, lass. Our heavenly Father has faithfully provided for me. ’Tis His generosity I extend whenever I share. Today’s Thanksgiving—a day to count our blessings. I’ve my family who loves me, and I’ve you and Tucker as my new friends. ’Tisn’t just my belly that’s full. My heart overflows.”

  “Mine does, too.” Afraid she’d been too forward, Meredith hastened to tack on, “Tucker’s, too. This year, we have so much for which to be thankful.”

  Fifteen

  “Happy birthday!” Ian shoved his door shut and helped Meredith remove her cape.

  “Thank you.”

  For a fleeting second, Ian allowed himself to brush a spiraled tendril of her hair from her nape. It felt baby soft, a realization that made him smile, seeing as it was her birthday.

  “I’m the older one. Sis, scoot over. I’m dying for a cup of coffee.”

  Meredith poked her twin in the ribs. “Being five minutes older doesn’t give you leave to be bossy.”

  “I’m not bossy.” He eased past her and tacked on, “Just surly.”

  “You hardly even say a word to Ian except for wanting coffee.”

  The last thing Ian wanted was for her to be put in the center of a tug o’ war between him and her brother. He shook her cape and hung it on a peg by the door. “I understand. Tucker knows what he likes.”

  Tucker paused with the coffeepot in mid air. “I know what I love.”

  “So go on and have a cup.” Ian gently nudged Merry toward the table. “And have a seat. Breakfast is ready.”

  “You cooked breakfast?”

  “Oh no.” Tucker consoled himself with a swig of coffee.

  “I’d be insulted if your reactions weren’t warranted. In the past, some of the things I made were—”

  “Burnt offerings.” Tucker’s voice rated as funereal.

  “There are a few things that”—Ian grabbed a pair of pot holders—“I did learn to make. These are one of my favorites, so I hope you like them, too.” He opened the oven and took out a heaping plate of buckwheat pancakes.

  “Flapjacks!” Tucker scrambled to the table.

  “How did you manage flapjacks?” Merry gave him a disbelieving look. “It takes eggs to make them.”

  “Yep. Two of ’em.” Ian grinned. “I brought them back from Goose Chase packed in cornmeal. It’s a trick my ma used while on the Oregon Trail. Once I got home, I oiled them.”

  “Enough talk.” Tucker patted the table. “Let’s eat.”

  Ian set down the platter and sat opposite Merry. He’d rather sit beside her, but her brother made a habit of doing so—a point Ian noted with a twinge of irritation. Lord, this is all in Your hands. Help me to have the right attitude.

  “Whose turn is it to pray?” Merry wondered aloud.

  “Actually, it’s your brother’s, but I’d like to ask a special birthday blessing for the both of you.” Ian bowed his head and folded his hands. “Our dear, praised heavenly Father, we come before You to start another day. ’Tis a special one—and I’d ask You to look down on Your daughter Merry and Your son Tucker. Yo
u’ve brought them through the past year, and I ask You to hold them in the hollow of Your hand this next year. Grant them health, happiness, and a closer walk with You. Thank You for the food before us, and know how glad we are to be Your children. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  “Thank you for that lovely prayer, Ian. Among the blessings God bestowed upon Tucker and me this year, you are at the top of the list.”

  “That’s high praise, indeed. I’m honored.” In years past, Ian gladly would have eaten every last buckwheat pancake himself. This morning, he found contentment in eating only two and urging Meredith and Tucker to have more.

  Once breakfast ended, he went to his bunk and moved the pillow. “I have a little gift for each of you. Tucker, here.”

  “No, have Sis go first.”

  Merry laughed as he swiped the last bite from her plate. “Tucker is older. He should go first.”

  “Ma taught me not to argue with ladies.” Ian handed Tucker his gift.

  “A cribbage board? I haven’t played cribbage in years.” Tucker’s joy dimmed. “But we don’t have cards.”

  “Ah, but we do!” Ian pulled a deck from his shirt pocket with a flourish.

  Tucker concentrated on the wooden board and ran his thumbnail over the rows of tiny holes. “Thanks.”

  “What a wonderful gift!” Merry bumped Tucker’s shoulder playfully. “Now you won’t have to try to learn to juggle. That”—her eyes twinkled with glee—“is actually Ian’s gift to me: that I won’t have to dodge the rocks you try to juggle.”

  “Nay, lass. You’ve a gift, too.” Ian could hardly wait to see her reaction. He scooted the pillow completely out of the way, picked up her present, and walked back to the table. “Here you are.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth, and she stared at his hand. From behind her fingers, her voice sounded breathless. “Hair ribbons.”

  “Your hair is your crowning glory, Merry.” He set the gift on the table before her. As he did, the ribbons shifted, revealing a pair of hair combs and a card of hairpins beneath the lengths of pink, blue, and white.

  “Hairpins! Socks doesn’t sell ribbons or hairpins.” Her warm hazel eyes sparkled with delight.

  “Any why would he?” Ian chuckled. “The man’s bald as a shaved egg. I wrote home and told my family all about the two of you. I asked for the ribbons. My sister, Fiona, never can keep track of her hairpins. Half the time, she’s searching for them at midday. I can’t say for certain whether ’twas she or Ma who sent them along.”

  “Please give them my thanks.” She turned to Tucker. “You knew about this, didn’t you? That’s why you arranged for me to wash my hair! The way you work together—it is such a joy to see what great partners and friends you’ve become.”

  “Tucker, we could spend the whole day jawing around in here, or we could actually go out to work and put some muscle behind that partnership.”

  “Go out to work? Why don’t you work inside today?”

  Tucker shook his head. “I can’t stand being cooped up. There’ll be plenty of days when we can’t go out. I’m glad to have breathing room.” He stood.

  Once they’d left Merry and were out of earshot, Tucker stopped. “What you did—it was nice. But that doesn’t change things. You can’t buy Meredith’s affections.”

  “I’d be a fool to believe otherwise.”

  “Why did you let her think I knew what you’d gotten her?”

  “I neither agreed nor disagreed. We both want Merry to be happy. Aye, we do. On that we agree. And I credit you with loving her so much that you’d have decided to make our gifts complement one another for her benefit.”

  Tucker shook his head. “I don’t know what it is up here that addles a man’s mind. There’s Abrams and Clemment, and now you. You’re all crazy.”

  “Abrams is a rascal. Clemment—well, I thought perhaps we ought to discuss him. He’s not right in his mind. I worry that he’ll not take proper care of himself and be a winter casualty.”

  “Merry keeps track of things. You can write a note to his family. If she doesn’t have an address, she’d wheedle it out of him.”

  “I’ll get word to his family. ’Tis the least we can do for a neighbor.”

  Tucker started rocking the wood-framed steel mesh rocker cradle as Ian dumped small chunks and gravel into it. He added water, and they winnowed through the stones that were worthless.

  “Ian? Does Meredith have your family’s address?”

  Ian didn’t pretend to misunderstand what Tucker meant. “Listen here, Smith. If you think I’ll bolt off to my old hometown, you’re the one who’s showing a bent mind. Like this here, I’ve sifted through stones and pebbles and gravel. I finally struck gold in the form of the comely hazel eyes of your sister. Aye, and that’s enough to make me feel rich as Midas.”

  Ian dumped the top two levels of unremarkable chips of stone. He stuck his forefinger into the very bottom of the rocker box and brought it back up with a mere breath of gold dust on the tip. “A thimble full of this is an ounce. A refiner’s fire burns off the dross and leaves it pure. You and I—we’re standing in the furnace, but the Lord has different works to do within our hearts and souls. You can call me crazy, but ’tis commitment—commitment to His will and to the woman I love.”

  “A man who plays with fire gets burned.”

  “To me, Merry is worth whatever fire I must walk through.”

  Tucker stopped rocking the box. At the very bottom, only a few flakes glinted. “No matter how much you work at it, you don’t always get enough of what you want in the end.”

  Somewhere, sometime ago, a woman hurt him. Compassion replaced Ian’s frustration. “Tucker, whenever a man courts a woman, there’s always a danger that things won’t work out. I’ve not pursued anyone ’til now, but that’s changed for me. To me, Merry is more than worth the risk.”

  Sixteen

  Merry tilted her head and squinted. Ian’s bottle window was beautiful to look at but difficult to see through. For the sake of warmth, he’d tacked a hide up over the window and shut the shutters, but for the scant three hours of daylight they had, he’d roll up the hide and open the shutters.

  It’s so much nicer than last winter. Even a little light is wonderful, and the colors are pretty. They’d gone through a five-day blizzard recently. Being in the small, dark cabin she and Tucker shared felt suffocating. He’d been restless. He’d also muttered about partnerships and not getting enough in the end.

  Lord, You know how he worries about the money. If it’s Your will to provide enough to cover the debts, we’ll be grateful. If You don’t want us to be free, then please grant us grace.

  She opened her sewing box and pulled out her knitting needles and yarn. For a few hours, she could work on Christmas gifts. Her mind whirled as the yarn played between the needles. Tucker was upset when we were in our cabin and Ian was over here. He already feels beholden to Ian. Knowing Ian was working here with the rocker cradle while we weren’t helping—that has to bother Tucker. I should have realized it before now.

  After finishing several rows, Meredith put away her knitting. She went to the stove and stirred the stew. Mountain sheep, two sizable potatoes, some carrots, and assorted spices mingled to give off a mouth-watering aroma. After filling a jar, she covered the stew once again and put on her russet cloak. She barely touched the door, and the wind blew it wide open. Snow from the past two days spread before her. Using leather thongs, she strapped on the snowshoes Tucker had made for her. Even with them on, it took effort to walk to where the men were working.

  “What are you—”

  “Doing out here?” Tucker finished Ian’s question. They both looked at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses.

  “I’m worried about Mr. Clemment. I’m taking him some stew.”

  “I’ll take it to him.” Tucker came toward her with far more ease than Ian did. Merry didn’t comment on that fact; Tucker was weaving a pair of snowshoes for Ian as their Christmas gift. They’d be done
in time for the worst of the cold months.

  “I want to go, too. You can’t expect me to stay cooped up all the time.”

  “Go on ahead.” Ian rubbed his gloved hands. “I’ll check the snares.”

  Tucker and she were halfway to Mr. Clemment’s claim when Meredith dared to voice what was on her mind. “Ian’s cabin has a lot of room. When blizzards hit, if we stayed there, you could work alongside him.”

  “What’s wrong with our cabin?”

  “Nothing at all. We made it through last winter just fine. I was thinking more of how he used the rocker cradle and coaxed gold from the silt while you and I did nothing during the last storm.”

  “I can take a bag of rocks back to our cabin and pan by the firelight.”

  “Yes, you could. I could, too.”

  “No, you can’t. I’d have to do it over the dishpan so we don’t end up with water and ice on the floor.”

  Meredith said nothing about how Ian had stretched the mountain goat’s hide so that it now formed a big, warm rug in his main room. Instead, she said, “We can take turns.”

  “No,” Tucker replied in a harsh tone. “You did all that gardening and earned what we needed for this winter’s supplies. I’m doing the prospecting.”

  “I don’t mind, Tucker.”

  “I do.” His voice was colder than the arctic wind.

  Mr. Clemment didn’t answer their knock. Tucker kicked the door, and it swung inward. The biggest mess Meredith had ever seen stretched before her. Tucker stepped in first, pulled her in, then shut the door. In a low tone, he ordered, “Stay right here. I’ll give him the food.”

  Meredith released the jar and watched her twin shuffle around the mess and toward the table. Mr. Clemment sat cross-legged in the center of the table. He gave Tucker a big smile and gestured grandly. “Home, sweet nest.”

  “We brought you some chow.” Tucker set the jar on the table. When Meredith took a step forward, Tucker motioned her back.

  “Food looks good. It’ll warm me clean down to my gizzard.”

  “You enjoy it, old-timer.” Tucker came back to her side. “There’s not much sun. I need to get Sis back to a warm cabin.”