“Neither is Lillian. She plans to run off first chance she gets.”
“I know. She thinks she’s missing out on life.” Bron added more soap, then stirred the clothes slowly, her eyes thoughtful. “She’s anxious to grow up, Buck. Right now, she’s neither one thing nor the other—too young to be a woman, and too old to be a child. It’s not a good time of life for most people. Sad it is, and full of all kinds of fears.”
“Were you like that, Bron, when you were growing up?”
“Oh yes!? Why, I was so skinny and plain and full of freckles, and the other girls so pretty, I knew I’d never get a man! Every night I cried myself to sleep, and the mornings I hated to get out of bed!”
“Aw, Bron, you were never ugly,” Buck protested in unbelief.
She laughed and shook her flaming red hair that cascaded down her back in soft waves. “Nothing to buy a stamp for, I was then, Old Man! It was a hard time for me.”
To Buck, Bron was not only beautiful, as he admired her creamy skin and sparkling eyes, but she was understanding. He had learned to trust and confide in her, something he’d never been able to do with any woman. She was the closest thing to a mother he’d known, yet young enough for him to talk to as a friend.
“I feel that way, Bron,” he said. “I don’t see how I can ever amount to anything. Skinny as a bean pole and ugly as a pan of worms. Zack’s the only man who ever done me a good turn in my whole life.”
Bron stretched to put her hand on his shoulder, he was that much taller than she, and tilted her head back. “You know what I see when I look at you, Buck? A fine, strong tall man. That’s what you’re becoming. Right now you’re like a young fawn, all legs and a little clumsy, but in a short time—very short now!—you’ll be filled out, and you’ll be like that great stag we saw this morning at the spring! You mind how handsome he was? All strong and clean and proud!” She smiled up at him. “And you’ll be a man of God, too, Buck, for there’s a hunger in you to be good.”
He felt that flush of warmth that always came when she touched him or when she talked to him, not really believing what she said, but hungry for approval. A movement caught his eye, and he turned and said with excitement, “There he comes!”
Bron wheeled and shaded her eyes with her hand. “Yes—I see him.” Her face changed, and he knew she had been worried about him. “But,” she said, “it looks like two wagons!”
Buck looked again. “You’re right. Wonder who’s in the other one?”
Choiya came from across the yard where she’d been scraping rabbit skins, but kept her distance, standing alone with her eyes on the two wagons. The children rushed out to join Buck and Bron.
As the wagons drew near, they saw that the second one was filled with men, talking and laughing.
Zack pulled up in front of the cabin, with the second wagon creaking to a stop directly behind. Zack threw the reins down, jumped to the ground, and smiled broadly. “Well, there’s the new cabin.” He waved his hand toward the men who were piling out of the wagon. Bron counted seven—a bearded rough-looking bunch, dressed in blue pants, colored flannel shirts, and knitted caps.
“They’re our logging crew,” Zack explained. “Found them between jobs, and hired them to cut the logs and build the new cabin.” He turned to the men. “Raoul, you want to cut a few logs before supper?”
“By gar, we do it!” The speaker, the largest of the loggers, a dark man with teeth that gleamed when he smiled, stepped forward. “You show us the trees, Zack, and we show you how to cut trees!”
Zack grinned. “Buck, you want to take them up to the stand of timber I showed you?”
“Sure.” Buck grabbed his hat. “It’s up this way.” He waited until the men gathered their tools, jabbering in a language the boy couldn’t understand. “What are they talking?” he asked.
“French, down from Canada,” Zack said. “Raoul, we’ll have supper ready when you get back. Buck, you can take the team and start snaking the logs back as they’re cut.”
As the loggers hurried up the hill, Zack turned to Bron. “We got to cook a big supper,” he said. “Those fellows can do a lot of work, but they eat a lot, too. I brought back extra food, though.”
He was more excited than she had ever seen him, his eyes alive with life. She asked carefully, “Did you have any trouble?”
“With Yeager?” He shook his head. “He wasn’t in town. I saw Billy Page, by the way. He’s coming out to see you.” He gave her a questioning look, adding, “He’s quite a fellow.”
“Yes. I don’t see how I could have gotten here without him.”
Zack shifted his feet as he thought of that, then turned and walked toward Choiya. She watched him approach, her face changing slightly as he neared. “I got you a present.” He smiled and reached into the side pocket of his coat. Her eyes followed his every move.
She took the package and unwrapped it slowly. It was a beautifully wrought gold medallion with a polished blue stone in the center, and a chain of tiny links of gold. She stared at it so long Zack grew anxious.
“Don’t you like it?”
She lifted her head and there was a peculiar expression in her eyes, one he’d not seen. “Do you know what it means?” she asked. Her lips were soft and her face had an expectant air as she waited.
“Means?” Zack looked at the necklace. “Why, I guess not. An Indian was selling it, and I thought it was pretty and would look good on you. What does it mean, Choiya?”
She dropped her eyes. “Oh, nothing really.” Then she smiled. “Thank you, Zack. It’s beautiful.” She turned and walked away.
Zack felt he’d hurt her, and shook his head. Try to please them and they act like you bashed them in the head! he thought.
He walked back to Bron. “I got you a present too, but it won’t be ready for a week.”
“What is it?”
“A cow and a calf,” he grinned. “You can’t wear that around your neck, but it sure would be good to have some fresh milk, wouldn’t it?”
“Oh, Zacharias—how wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Wait you,” she said, “until I get her! Then it’s cooking you’ll see, with fresh milk!” She was so excited that she did just what she’d do with Buck. She threw her arms around him and gave him a hug. “Oh, see how kind you are!” The touch of her firm rounded body sent a shock through Zack, and he was speechless. Her hair was fresh and clean, and smelled like soap, and when she drew back, her eyes were laughing into his. “What color is she?” she asked, unaware of the volcano her embrace had released.
“Why, red, I think,” he stammered, and then covered his confusion with, “You better think of supper for that crew. I got some boards from the mill to make a table and some benches.”
Bron rushed into the cabin and began the preparations—Choiya cut steaks from the elk Zack had shot earlier, while Bron and Lillian baked bread and pies. Zack made a long rectangular table with two benches for the loggers. Time flew by and before he knew it, Zack saw Buck come out of the woods snaking a log.
After unfastening the log, Buck said, “Gosh, Zack, I thought you were pretty good with an axe, but them loggers, why, they just seem to fly!”
“Every man to his trade,” Zack grinned. “Bet they can’t shoot as good as you, but right now we need loggers more than shooters.”
By the time Raoul led his crew out of the woods, there was a tidy stack of logs on the ground, and supper was ready. The men fell on the steaks and bread with a ferocity such as Bron had never seen. They laughed and made jokes, and Zack whispered to Buck, “I’ll bet those jokes are pretty raw. Good thing they speak French!”
After supper, Raoul and his crew set up the tents they had brought, while Zack and Buck made a bonfire. Then to everyone’s delight the men got out an accordion and a fiddle. Soon the clearing was filled with lively strains.
The loggers began to dance—evidently one of the joys of their lives, for they danced well. Raoul approached Bron. “Mees Morgan—maybe you dance for us, eh?”
“Oh, she’s a preacher, Raoul,” Zack interrupted. “Preachers don’t believe in dancing.”
“ ’Tis wrong you are again, Zacharias!” Bron cried. “None of your sinful dances, but the old Welsh, I can do.” She stood up and began to twirl gracefully around the fire. The musicians hesitated only a moment, then picked up the quick rhythm of her feet. She raised her hands and performed the Welsh dances enjoyed before America was discovered. Her face lit up with a smile, and her feet moved in the intricate patterns she had learned as a young child.
It brought back memories of the last time she had danced—with Owen before he left for America—and that thought brought a wave of sadness. But she finished the dance and fell into a chair, protesting “No more!” when the others applauded and asked for another.
Finally the musicians played a waltz, and some of the loggers began to dance around the fire, laughing and singing. Zack saw Choiya away from the fire, and on impulse walked over to her. “Not much like the dance of the Cheyenne, is it, Choiya?”
She said, “No—but my father taught me this when I was a little girl.”
He said, “All right, let’s have a sample,” and held out his arms.
She stood motionless. “No, it would not be good.”
“Oh, come on,” he laughed. “Do you good.” He pulled her forward and she followed his steps. They had not moved more than a dozen steps before he exclaimed, “Say, you’re a lot better at this than I am!”
She smiled, and the two spun around the fire as smoothly as if they were on a polished dance floor. The music floated on the air, and she was very conscious of his hand around her waist, and the movement of the thick muscles of his shoulder where her arm rested. Her feet matched his every move, like a feather, and somehow she forgot everything else. The night was dark, but the fire sent waves of yellow light over the clearing, and the golden sparks flew upward to mingle with the silver stars, it seemed.
She was wearing the medallion he had given her, and the gold reflected the light of the fire. He admired it, and grinned, “Been a long time since I went to a party.”
“A long time for me too,” Choiya said softly.
“I feel like a fool. Here I come a thousand miles to be a hermit—and now look at me.” He sobered. “I’ve never thanked you for what you’ve done—taking care of Sam.” He tightened his grip on her hand. “Couldn’t have made it without you, Choiya. Thanks.”
She felt her face grow warm with the praise and said, “It is nothing.”
The waltz ended, and Raoul asked Choiya, “You dance with me?” And without waiting for an answer, he took her hands and swept her around the campfire.
Buck and Lillian were on the sidelines, watching, and she whispered, “Aren’t you going to ask me to dance?”
He was astonished, for she had paid little attention to him since their return, except to ridicule. “Why—why, I can’t dance.”
“Oh, it’s easy. Here, let me show you.” She moved in front of him. “Put that arm around my waist, and hold my hand like this.” She put his arms in position. “Now, we’ll go very slowly—watch my feet. One—two—three. One—two—three!”
Buck found himself moving around, conscious of her nearness. He felt as clumsy as a bear, but as she kept on coaching him, he began to get the hang of it.
“That’s very good!” Lillian said with a smile, the first he’d seen for days. “Now, a little faster.”
He went around the campfire, feeling self-conscious but concentrating on his feet.
After a few minutes, she said, “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“It is for me,” he muttered.
“Oh, you’re doing fine,” she countered, smiling up at him. “I didn’t realize you were so tall. I like tall men.”
He missed a step when she said that, and said, “Sorry, Lillian.”
“You’re doing fine.” She was happy, and it made her look pretty. “I love dancing!” she said joyously. “When I get old enough, I’m going to dance every night.”
He was acutely aware of holding her, and felt embarrassed. He had never been around a young woman, not like this, and he was both sorry and relieved when the music finally stopped and Raoul called, “All right. To bed!”
The loggers groaned, but he was adamant, and soon the yard was silent. Up in the loft, as Zack and Buck lay down to sleep, he asked, “Zack, how long you think it’ll take to put up the new cabin?”
“Be pretty quick the way those fellows work. Why?”
“Oh, I was just wonderin’.” He lay there thinking of dancing with Lillian. “Maybe we can have some music every night.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised.” Zack lay thinking of the night, not quite sure about himself. The merriment had released something within, and he wondered what had changed him, but he fell asleep without any answers.
The new cabin seemed to fly into place. When the stack of logs grew large enough, Raoul sent a man down to notch them. He did the job so quickly with his razor-sharp axe that Zack was amazed. It took only two days for them to cut enough logs, and by the time the crew came out of the woods, there were enough logs notched to begin raising the walls.
He had decided to make the new cabin face the original cabin, with a ten-foot space in between. The roofs would join so that there would be a covered section for a porch between the two sections. The men began raising the logs early on Friday morning, and by late Saturday, the walls were in place.
“We get him finished by Tuesday, roof and all!” Raoul promised.
On Sunday morning, Bron announced there would be a service, and Raoul brought his crew. They gathered in the new cabin, and Bron began by singing hymns. The loggers were Catholic, and didn’t know them, so there was little support from anyone except Buck, who had learned a few. She read from the Bible, and Raoul translated each verse into French.
Then she spoke briefly about Jesus Christ and His death on the cross. It was very quiet, and her words carried over the walls. The sky above was clear, and the sun shone on their heads. Again, Raoul interpreted for her, and the loggers sat on the floor with bare heads, studying Bron’s face with curiosity. They were a rugged breed, but the sight of the small woman with the peculiar green eyes and red hair stirred something in them.
Not a person moved as Bron finished. “God has such a great love for each one! None of us could ever find our way to Him, but He has sent one who can show us the Father—and that one is the Lord Jesus Christ!”
Her fervent voice and joyful eyes held them spellbound, including Zack. There was no faith in him, only doubt. But he had a wistful look on his face, and deep in his heart he wished he could believe as Bronwen did.
After she had prayed, they filed out quietly. During the service Bron had noticed Choiya standing to one side, holding Hawk in her arms. Later that day, she asked, “Choiya, when I go to preach to the Arapaho people, would you interpret for me?”
Choiya showed surprise. “I do not believe in your Jesus.”
“I know—but you can tell them what I say.”
“How do you know I will tell them your words truly?”
Bron smiled. “I know. Will you do it?”
“We will see.” She hesitated, then asked, “Would you like to learn to speak the language of the Arapaho?”
“Oh yes! Would you teach me?”
“If you like.”
By Tuesday the cabin was finished, shakes in place and door hung, and Raoul and his crew left. Almost at once, Zack was besieged on all sides to go to town, and he laughed. “You folks sure do make sorry hermits—but I guess we better go get your cow, Bron.”
They all climbed into the wagon, and as they drove along, both Bron and Choiya were hoping that Red Yeager would still be gone, but Zack didn’t seem to be perturbed about anything. He was happier than any of them had seen him. When they neared town, he said to Choiya, “Well, there’s civilization.”
“It seems very busy.”
Zack looked closer. “Sure does.
Must be some kind of celebration.”
As they drove down the street, which was lined with wagons, mules, and horses, Zack scanned the crowd. The sidewalks were jammed, and everyone seemed to be shouting.
They pulled up in front of Pfouts’ store, and spotted Parris in the doorway. “Hey, Parris!” Zack yelled.
Pfouts looked up and came running over. “Well, guess you heard the news?”
“News? No, we just came to buy supplies. What’s going on?”
“Why, it’s gold, Zack! Right here in Virginia City. Mostly out toward the Gulch.” He laughed. “Your place is pretty much in that direction. You’re probably sitting on a million dollars worth of gold!”
Bron and Buck had come to stand beside Parris. “You look unhappy, Zack. What’s wrong?” Buck asked. “It’s great! You’re maybe a millionaire!”
Zack slumped in his seat, and pulled the English derby over his brow firmly. “No, sir, I’m not in this thing. And when you see this place in about a month, you’ll wish you’d never heard of gold!”
“Why, Zacharias?” Bron asked.
“Because every mining camp on earth is a slice right out of hell!” he grunted. He waved at the street. “Every other building there will be a saloon or a dance hall. Every tough and every crook in the territory will head straight for Alder Gulch, and in two months killings will be as common as flies!”
“It won’t be that bad,” Parris protested. “We’ll have law here.”
“You’ll have what law you make, Parris,” Zack said. “But not me. We’re sitting the whole thing out.” He nodded firmly, adding, “You can have your gold rush, but it’s not for us.”
“You won’t be able to avoid it, will you?” Choiya asked. “Those gold seekers will be all over the place.”
“They can do what they please, but we’re holing up at our place.” Zack looked around with distaste, and then said firmly, “I came here to be a hermit—and a hermit is what I’ll be!”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
HOLDUP
By April of 1863 Virginia City had swollen from a town of six hundred to a burgeoning mining camp of over four thousand prospectors along Alder Creek. Under the shadow of the Ruby Mountains and the Tobacco Roots, they gutted the hillside with sluices and pans and long toms, where once an old river’s channel had dropped its gold treasure.
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