by Marian Wells
Slowly Matthew spoke, and a kind of sorrow came through the words. “Maybe so. At least time hasn’t handed me a better place in life. I’ve had many an occasion to regret not taking your advice.” He studied the cows along the fence before he turned to face her again.
“Yes, of the lot of us, he was the only one to land on his feet.”
Quickly he glanced at her, “Begging your pardon, ma’am, you seem to have done all right.”
Amelia’s head dropped. For a moment she toyed with the idea of satisfying the curiosity in his eyes, but then she rejected the notion. It was Matthew’s problems that needed to be addressed.
“I’m guessing the reason you want to take the stage is to avoid all the questions I want to put to you. I’ve already concluded that you’re not in the least happy with the choice you made that day.”
“Look, Amelia, all that’s behind me. The day I made that decision, I thought the fellow was offering me the chance to undo all the grief I had caused my family. And the rest …” He shrugged, but Amelia saw the pain in his eyes. “My wife? Don’t forget—she played a part in it all.”
Amelia started to protest, but she caught herself and said, “I’m not going to get caught up in that again. Meanwhile, Matthew, there’s that arm. Take off your shirt and let me massage it. If you don’t start working those muscles, you’ll never be anything except a cripple.”
Fumbling at the buttons, he turned to look out over the barren hillsides, “So this is Colorado Territory. I wondered what it would be like.”
Amelia asked, “Why? What have you heard about the territory?”
“Not territory—at least not then.” He looked at her. “Crystal and I had talked about going west when we were back in Pennsylvania. There was starting to be rumors about gold. Seems some of the men heading into California had done enough prospecting in the Cherry Creek to encourage consideration. It was Clara Brown who had first mentioned it to Crystal.”
“Who is she?”
“A former slave. Crystal has known her for years. She bought her freedom and told Crystal she was heading west. Last we heard she talked about settling in Kansas. But we knew her intentions were to move into this end of Colorado soon as the gold fields opened.”
“Matt, from Pueblo you can ride east with some of the freight wagons.”
“Well,” he said reluctantly, “I guessed I’d just go on into Denver City. Thought I’d ask around about Clara Brown.”
“Mind if I ask why?”
He glanced up. “Thought I’d ask if she’s heard anything about Crystal.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to see you. Matt, you said some ugly things to her.” Matthew didn’t answer. Finally Amelia sighed and said, “The shirt, Matt.”
He looked down at his arm. “Or I’ll be a cripple. One advantage. I wouldn’t be expected to fight again.”
She looked at the painful twist of his lips and said, “That’s a different tune you’re singing. All the yelling we did to each other that day started because you couldn’t wait to get back home when you thought things were gearing up to a fight. In ’58, wasn’t it? About the time all the rumbles were starting over the states rights issue.” She sighed and shrugged. “The arm, Matthew. That’s the issue now.”
She tugged at his sleeve and he remarked, “Maybe Eli won’t like your playing nurse to me.”
“Eli and I have discussed it.” Her voice was mild and she continued to ignore the questions in his eyes. Slowly he began to remove his shirt. With a slight smile, Amelia mentioned, “You know, many people have a tough time recognizing me with these scars.”
“And the dowdy dress and skinned-back knob of hair.” There was a touch of amusement in his voice. “That’s a good disguise.”
The grin disappeared from his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You’ve acted so lighthearted about it all. I know it’s been difficult. I’ve had a hard time guessing how you must feel down inside.”
Amelia poured oil into the palm of her hand. With her other hand she slowly pulled Matthew’s arm away from his body and straightened it. She watched the white line of pain around his mouth as she began to massage the scar and knotted muscle in his arm.
When the perspiration drenched his face and streaked his undershirt, she released his arm. “I think that’s enough for today.” She added, “Might be to your advantage to stick with Eli and me. You need that arm massaged every day.” She watched him wince as he thrust the arm back into the shirt.
Matthew muttered, “You didn’t pull any punches about letting me know how you feel about me, yet you’ve been dressing my arm. Now you’re trying to make it work again. Why?”
“Sometimes you do things for people because you love them, not because you like the things they do.”
While he fastened the buttons, she said, “About my scars. Matthew, would you believe I’m to the place now where I can rejoice in them?”
She sat down on the woodpile. Matthew pulled up a log. He moved his shoulders under the warmth of the sun and then squinted up at her. “Maybe you’d better tell me how. I think there’s a few things in my life I need to learn to rejoice over.”
“Or change,” she said. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally Amelia leaned forward to look at Matthew.
“Back in Pennsylvania days you knew I’d left my husband. Until this past February, I’ve been living in Buckskin Joe, over on the other side of the mountains. At the time the smallpox epidemic hit town, I’d been struggling with a lot of things. But mostly just me. I guess I discovered then that approaching God is an impossibility if the pack on your back is too wide to fit through the door.”
Again they sat in silence while Amelia sorted through the thoughts pressing at her. Finally she lifted her head. “Having smallpox was more like God reaching down and pulling off the biggest pack on my back. The thing I couldn’t surrender without a miracle was the thing smallpox snatched. Me, my beauty. Overnight, pride was stripped from me. I was left with the choice of accepting what had happened or destroying myself.
“Matthew, a long time before the smallpox, I wanted badly to be able to accept God’s forgiveness, but by then I had hit the very bottom of life. You know the kind of person I was. Later, it seemed like a cheap shot to be crawling to Him, on my knees, after I was ruined.
“It took a lot of thinking before I realized part of the sacrifice of Christ’s atonement is this final mile. For me He not only provided the way to himself, but He allowed the burden of life to roll in upon me and crush me until I realized there was no escape except into His arms. A begging Lord with the sacrifice in His outstretched arms.” Slowly she got to her feet and looked at Matthew. He was still on the chunk of firewood, staring at the ground.
The next day Matthew came to the Randolphs’ cabin. When Amelia opened the door he said, “I’ve come to have you massage my arm. Also, I’ve been thinking. I’d like to ride into Denver with you. I’ll be ready as soon as you want to leave.”
Eli nodded. “The sooner the better. I saw an article in an old Rocky Mountain News I’d like to investigate. It’s about the Homestead Act that’s taking effect in the Territory now.” Amelia was shaking her head as Eli added, “I’d like a hunk of land for myself.”
Two days later Eli was still talking about the Homestead Act as they rode out of Pueblo. He was stretched out on the bedding in the wagon while Amelia and Matthew shared the wagon seat. “You know the Act is a chance in a lifetime. No money for acres; just work the land. Make improvements.”
Finally Amelia sighed and said, “Do you think that’s what the Lord wants you to do?”
Reluctantly Matthew put in, “Plowing fields and feeding livestock is hard work. Are you sure you are up to it? If you go to preaching again, Amelia will be left with most of the work.”
They rode along silently, each absorbed in his own thoughts. The weather along the eastern slope of the mountains was pleasantly warm. The road they traveled led from one small community to the next. Farming and minin
g still seemed equally important to the villages they passed through, but the farming seemed to be getting the most attention.
There were flocks of sheep and cattle, and the fields were scraped into neat furrows along the rivers and streams. Already fingers of green traced out the length of the furrows.
Each night they were able to find a place to camp close to the security of a farmhouse. Most nights their hosts came visiting with fresh produce or milk. Their faces were always swarthy, and usually the exchange of English was limited.
One evening Amelia watched the farmer walk out of sight, and then she turned to Eli. “Why are most of these people of Mexican descent?”
“Because this section of land originally belonged to New Mexico Territory. Last year when Colorado became a territory, the boundaries were changed. How would you like to get up one morning and discover your house is no longer in New Mexico, but instead you’re a resident of Colorado Territory?”
“Guess I wouldn’t.”
Amelia went to wash the tiny beets and carrots. Eli turned to look at Matthew stretched out on a grassy patch beside the grazing mules. Matthew tilted his hat off his face and looked at Eli. “Mind telling me a little about Denver City?”
Amelia bent over the pan of water as Eli replied, “Not much to tell. It’s still a bunch of log cabins and milled lumber business houses. There’s a handful of hotels and a triple handful of saloons. Charley Harrison’s made good. He’s just about been running the place.”
“He’s the mayor?”
“No. Runs a couple of saloons, has a couple of the best hotels in town. Doesn’t have too good a reputation. He’s just about half outlaw.”
“Half?” Amelia questioned, dumping the pan of water and dropping the vegetables into the pot of beans and meat. She added, “Harrison might come across as a good fellow, but that gang of outlaws hanging around him gives his whole establishment a bad flavor.”
“The Bummers,” Eli said. “They’ve been blamed with everything that’s happened, and rightly so, it seems. Soon after Gilpin became the territorial governor, he put together a volunteer army. They took up the name Pikes Peakers. The soldiers’ first assignment was to get rid of the Bummers. That made Charley pull his neck in a little.”
Matthew was silent. Finally he sat up and said, “I’m getting the feeling there’s not much of a job market in Denver.”
Eli replied slowly, “I don’t think that impression is valid. After all, the territory has been bled of young men to fill up the Colorado Volunteer Army. Just what did you have in mind?”
Matthew shrugged. “I was trained as a lawyer, but I’d do about anything.”
Eli looked as if he were about to ask a question. Amelia hastily said, “Well, most of the newcomers try their hand at gold mining. Now’s a good time of year to start. Matter of fact, if you’d want to follow Father Dyer around, he could point out some likely spots. He’s been to most of the gold camps in the territory.”
After they had eaten and the fire burned low, Amelia could see Matthew was still hashing over the subject. She watched him take a deep breath. There was something about his face that caught Amelia’s attention. From the expression, she guessed that he had reached a milestone. With a headlong thrust, he began to talk of all the things he had been avoiding for the past weeks.
The fire flickered shadows across his face. She felt like applauding him as he said, “I don’t know how to say all this without it seeming as if I’m looking for sympathy. But, I just can’t go home. The bottom line is, I don’t believe in the Confederate cause any longer. As long as the war is being fought, I won’t be welcome there.”
Finally Eli prodded, “Son, do you feel like you’d like to enlarge on the subject?”
Matthew shot a quick glance at Amelia. “At one time I thought I was for the cause, a Confederate all the way through. I did have a lot of pride in the South. But what really happened was that in a weak moment, I let a fellow talk me into seeing my duty to family and home. I went home. Shortly after that I began to have serious doubts.”
“Oh, Matthew!” Amelia cried in dismay. “Fighting is bad enough when you really believe, but—”
“Let’s not talk about the fighting. That was not of my choice. It’s the other. You know,” he said heavily. “As well as I do, you know. I listened to the wrong fellows. But to begin with, it was my spoiled brat nature. I got all hotheaded about something I shouldn’t have.”
Amelia finished softly. “About her? You believed the lie, and your foolish pride wouldn’t let you listen to reason. Love does strange things to a person and you were no exception. If only you’d given Crystal a chance to explain.”
“But she couldn’t,” Matthew said slowly. “I’d said things that she’d never forgive.”
“About her race? Matthew, I’d wondered.”
There was silence around the fire. Matthew went to the wagon for blankets and came back to spread them beside the fire.
Amelia got to her feet. She could see Matthew’s face was lined with the kind of agony that struck a response in her own heart. Dear God, help me to be able to say the words that will help, she found herself thinking. I know how he feels—it’s like a dead-end tunnel.
She watched Eli pick up a crutch and limp toward the wagon. She followed him and said, “Let me help, Husband.”
“I can make it.” He touched her cheek, then hoisted himself into the wagon.
After they were settled in the blankets, Eli spoke hesitantly, “Matt seems without hope.”
“His wife was Creole. As long as I’ve known him, Matthew has been a hotheaded, spoiled child. So different from his sister.” She sighed. “I think most of his early life was just a pattern of following one whim after another. Guess that’s all right for a young’un. But when it starts hurting others—”
She stopped and Eli fumbled for her hand. She whispered, “That’s what I did. I am so sorry. But that isn’t going to change the past.”
Eli bent over and kissed her before pulling her into his arms. “You and I both know there’s mistakes that only the Lord can make right. And it does take a miracle—as well as a commitment to a lifetime of working at problems.”
Her voice was low as she said, “Certainly I don’t deserve a second chance. It is only the mercy of God that forgives sin, but a second chance at life is like being handed a fortune.”
Minutes passed in silence, and Amelia thought Eli was asleep. Then he spoke. “Amelia, a fortune is to be spent.”
“Am I hoarding it?”
“Nearly. It’s as if you’re afraid it will run out. The Lord doesn’t do things in a halfhearted way. And I do trust you, my dear.”
She wanted desperately to ask that question, but she pressed her lips together. He moved beside her and bent over her again. “Are those tears on your face?” He touched his lips to them.
“Remember, God changes the heart, even mine, and it isn’t a halfway job. Also, I’m taking Father Dyer’s advice seriously. I’ve a feeling I’m going to enjoy spending the rest of my life telling you how much I love you and want you with me.”
In a moment she heard the amusement in his voice as he said, “Maybe in another twenty years, you’ll see there’s not much difference between scars or wrinkles—on either one of us.” Amelia laughed softly, and Eli cuddled her head against his shoulder.
Chapter 28
When the stagecoach stopped, Amy sat up. She had been trying to sleep in her corner while the stage bounced over rocks and swayed around corners. As she peered out the window, she sighed with relief. Under the cover of her shawl, she pressed her hand against her stomach.
It was late and very dark, and the only thing Amy could see was a cluster of lights down the street.
The driver swung down from his perch, making the coach sway. “All out!” He barked, stopping beside the window. “We’re here for the night. There’s a hotel down the street. Be back by daybreak. We want an early start. It’s a long ride into Denver City.”
The male passenger pried himself out of his corner and disappeared. Crystal gathered her shawl and valise. She looked at Amy. “Come along. The accommodations aren’t luxurious, but the driver won’t take the coach through the mountains in the dark.”
She waited for Amy to climb out of the stagecoach, and then she started down the street. Glancing at Amy she asked, “Feeling better now?”
Amy nodded. “You noticed?” She followed Crystal into the hotel.
The room to which they were directed was lined with crude cots covered with a straw tick and a blanket. Crystal carefully shook both items and turned with a look of distaste. “Oh, my mother would have heart failure if she could see me now!”
Amy blinked with surprise as she went to shake her own bedding. Strange. Why have I never thought of Crystal having a past, other than the one at Buckskin Joe? She has a mother, a family—and they are probably wondering about her. Worrying.
Crystal carefully removed her gown and hung it on a peg. As she wrapped herself in a shawl she looked at Amy. “Those questions in your eyes! Sometimes I get the distinct feeling you proper white ladies forget we’re human.”
Amy felt her face getting warm as she carefully lowered herself to the cot and smoothed her frock. “I’ll freeze if I take off my clothes. At least cotton doesn’t wrinkle as badly as—whatever that is.”
“Moire. Watered silk.”
Amy winced. “I know I’m ignorant of such.”
Crystal turned carefully on her cot. Her voice gentled as she said, “Being Creole isn’t that bad. I know it’s hard to believe, but my family is well respected in New Orleans.” In a moment she added, “I’m sorry. I guess I’m still touchy.”
“About our argument? Crystal, I’ve been judging you. But without facts it’s hard to think otherwise. When I saw you first in Buckskin, you didn’t even have a warm wrap. Now, well, you dress like—”
“A prostitute. And they are the only women in the territory with decent clothes. Good night, Amy.”