When breakfast was over, he looked across the table. “You’ve been loafing around here long enough, Buck,” Zack said as he drank his last cup of coffee. He leaned back in his chair and a smile touched the corners of his mouth at the surprise on Buck’s face. “I figure on starting a new career. Thought you might like to join me and get rich.”
Buck nodded, “Sure, Zack. What you got in mind?”
“Stone and Crenna are taking some pretty fair dust out of their claims. We own a long stretch of Dancer Creek, so I guess we might as well make a little money.”
Buck’s face lit up. He had often wondered why Zack let the gold stay in the ground. Now he asked, “How come you decided that, Zack?”
“Oh, guess I’m getting miserly in my old age.” Zack looked around the table and noted Bron and Jeanne watching him closely. Paul and Alice were across the room, playing a game, moving Hawk and Sam against one another as if they were punching puppets, much to their enjoyment. Zack sipped at his coffee, then added, “All these kids need shoes, don’t they? How about if we all go down to the creek today and dig enough for a set of new winter clothes for the whole tribe? Take some grub and maybe fish a little.”
“That sounds like fun.” Bron’s eyes sparkled. “We won’t be having many picnics in a few weeks, I’m thinking.” She looked at Buck. “But you’re not going to do much work, you hear me?”
It was six weeks since he had been injured, and he had healed remarkably fast, so he said, “Aw, Bron, I’m as good as new. Let’s go. I’ll hitch up the horses.”
Zack laughed, “Well, now, I don’t see as how we can dig a wagon load of gold the first day. It’d make us all sinful if we did, I guess.” He pushed his chair back. “We’ll be ready by the time you get us some grub thrown together.”
“I don’t think I’ll go,” Lillian said. “Maybe I’ll just clean up around here.”
“None of that,” Zack warned. “We’ll need all the miners we can get, girl!” He passed by her chair and let his hand drop on her shoulder, adding with a smile, “Besides, you can fry fish over a campfire better than these other women—so I can’t spare you.”
“All right,” she said quickly, and pulled away from his touch. His eyes caught Bron’s, and he knew she had seen Lillian’s reaction, but said only, “Let’s get moving.”
As he joined Buck outside, he knew the boy had seen Lillian’s look of fear at Zack’s touch. After they had hitched up the mules and gathered tools and fishing poles, Buck voiced his fears. “Zack, do you think Lillian’s ever gonna get over bein’ scared?”
“Sure she will. Just takes time.”
“But she never smiles anymore,” Buck protested. His face reflected the worry he felt. “She don’t even fuss about bein’ stuck out here in the backwoods. It’s like she’s half asleep all the time, ain’t it?”
“You’ll have to be patient with her, Buck,” Zack advised, picking up another shovel and tossing it into the wagon. “She’s had about the worst that life can give to a young woman.” He said no more, but drove the team to the front door, and soon they were all loaded and on their way.
When they arrived at the creek, Buck suggested, “Let’s start panning right now, Zack!”
Zack looked around and saw the same enthusiasm in the others. Even Lillian seemed interested. “All right,” he conceded, picking up a pan as he leaped to the ground. The others followed him as he led the way to the creek. There they crowded around as he squatted down and scooped up a panful of sand and small gravel. Then he swung and spilled the gravel from the edges of his pan, working the residue down to black sand.
“Where’s the gold?” Buck asked eagerly.
“Isn’t any,” Zack said. He laughed at their faces and asked, “Did you think all you had to do was just scoop it out like sand?”
“But where is it?” Bron asked too.
“May not be any,” Zack shrugged. “More creeks without any gold than with it.” He stood up and studied the creek. “Let’s try over where the creek makes a bend. Maybe the water’s banged up against the rocks and laid down some color.”
He moved to the spot, tried twice with no luck; but as he surveyed the immediate area, an idea struck him and he stepped back from the water. “Let’s have the pick,” he said. He dug down about a foot, then filled his pan with the gravel from that level. He carefully worked it, and held it out for them to see. “We’ve struck gold, Buck,” he grinned.
Buck nearly fell over, and the others crowded in. “Where?” he asked in a puzzled tone.
Zack touched a pea-sized stone. “That’s a gold nugget—and see the glittering specks in the sand? That’s gold, too.”
Open-mouthed, Buck asked, “How much is it worth, Zack?”
“About a dollar.”
“Gosh—that’s not much!”
“No. You can break your back digging for gold and not make wages,” Zack said. “It’s not going to pop out of the ground. But sometimes a man will hit a spot that’s yellow as the bottom side of a hound. Every shovelful worth a hundred dollars or even more.” He stood up and handed the pan to Buck. “Go to it, Partner. You’ve got a strong back, and that’s about all it takes to be a miner.”
Buck wasted no time and began panning.
“I’m going fishing while you make us rich, Buck.” Zack took Alice and Paul to the wagon, rigged some lines and soon they were laughing with joy as they pulled small panfish out of the creek.
Bron and Jeanne walked along the stream, helping Hawk and Sam to walk along. They stopped from time to time, and Bron said, “It’s nice out here. Good for the children.”
“Yes.” Jeanne took a stick from Hawk that he’d picked up and was trying to poke into his eye. Jeanne had said little for days, and now there was an uneasiness about her that Bron had seen coming. Jeanne went on. “Soon the snows will come. I have thought of going back to the Cheyenne.”
“Why, I didn’t know—”
She gave her a quick look and asked, “Why are you surprised? They are my people.”
Bron was embarrassed and said quickly, “I guess I’ve almost forgotten that, Jeanne. I always think of you as being here.”
“I will soon have to leave. Sam could do without me now—and that is all Zack sees in me.”
“No, that’s not so,” Bron protested. “He needs you.”
“He does not need me as a man needs a woman,” Jeanne said.
“Are you sure?”
“Don’t you know when a man wants you?”
The elementary meaning of the question brought a red touch to Bron’s cheeks. She thought of Owen and nodded. “Yes, I think any woman knows that, Jeanne. But it may come.”
“No, the time is past. I hated him when I came. I told myself I would kill him if he ever tried to touch me.” She faltered, and her eyes dropped. Then she lifted her head and said, “Then I began to want his touch—but it never came. He has no eyes for me in that way.”
“He came here to get away from people,” Bron said. “I don’t know if he ever will want a woman to share his life.” She had turned to watch Zack as he fished with the children, and did not see the quick look she got from Jeanne. “He’s a strange man, Jeanne. I thought I knew him, but since I saw him butcher Yeager and try to kill Ives, I’m afraid of him a little.”
****
Lillian had left the group to walk alone, but when she came back she saw that Buck was still doggedly scooping gravel. He had dug a dozen holes and when he looked up to see her approach, his face brightened. “Look, Lillian!”
“What is it?”
“A big nugget—look at it!” He held it up, and she took it in her hand. “It looks like a four-leaf clover, don’t it?”
She examined it. “Yes, I guess it does.”
She gave it back, but he shook his head. “You keep it. I thought if we could get a gold chain—it’d make a nice necklace.”
“I won’t be wearing a necklace,” she said wearily. “Did you find lots of gold?”
�
�Oh, not so much—except for this nugget. But I’ll bet we do.” He gave her a covert glance. “You know why Zack is doing this, don’t you? He don’t care nothin’ about money for himself. He’s doing it for all of us—so we’ll be able to do what we want.”
Lillian was surprised but said only, “I guess so, Buck. What’ll you do with the money if you get a lot of it?”
He shrugged. “Dunno what I’d do. But I bet you’d like some nice things—dresses and stuff like that.”
A shadow crossed her face. She had healed, except for two scars, which Doc Steele assured her would fade even more. “I don’t think so,” she said, and walked away.
“Lillian!” Buck sped to her side. She seemed so small and vulnerable. How could he say what was on his heart? He had never been able to speak freely with her; now it was even worse. He took a deep breath and plunged in. “I hate to see you so—so sad. You’ve got such a nice smile, and you’re so pretty.” He swallowed hard, forcing himself to go on. “Lillian—you got to forget what—what happened to you. It was real bad, but it’s over.”
Her mouth trembled, and she shook her head vigorously. “No, it’s not over. It’ll never be over!” Tears welled up in her eyes, and she dashed them away with a shaky hand.
He wanted to touch her, to put his hand on her shoulder, but some deep wisdom cautioned him. “You got to let it go,” he said quietly, yet with urgency.
“If I could forget it, Buck, do you think everybody else would?”
“Sure! Those that matter!”
“You’re wrong! A man would never forget. He’d always be thinking about what happened.”
“Not if he loved you.”
She looked up at him as if seeing him for the first time. He had been so young when they’d first met, she thought, but he seemed older now. His face had matured and his tall frame was beginning to fill out. Her eyes opened wide. “What about you, Buck? Could you forget about it?”
He paused for a long moment, thinking before he answered. “I don’t know that we ever really forget anything, Lillian. I still remember the beatings I got when I was eight years old from an old man who hated me. But it’s over. All I do now is thank God I’m not still going through that. I guess that’s the way it is with a hurt. While it’s going on, we think it’ll go on forever—and that we can’t stand it. But the hurt passes. And then as time goes on, the pain of it somehow fades away.”
She listened to him, wanting to believe his words. Finally she shook her head. “So, you would remember.”
“Maybe I would, Lillian,” Buck replied gently. “But not like you think. I’d remember anything that hurt you—but it’d only make me try harder to love you more.”
She gave him a startled look, and he bit his lip. “Didn’t mean to say that.” Then he lifted his head defiantly. “It’s true—but I didn’t ever think I’d say it out loud.”
Lillian felt numb. A silence fell over them, and he expected her to laugh at him. But she only whispered, “That was nice of you to say, Buck.” She turned and quickly walked away. He watched her go, his hands at his sides, wanting desperately to help her.
****
Bron had left Jeanne cleaning the fish while she had gone to where Zack was fishing. They had watched the fish nibble at the bait, then dart away. Bron finally broke the silence. “Buck and Lillian have been talking a long time. That’s a good sign, but she’s such a hurting girl!”
The word hurt prodded him to ask as he pulled in the line, “Bron, why are you so cold toward me?”
She blinked with surprise, then shook her head. “Sorry you think that, Zacharias. I—I’ve been thinking about a lot of things.”
A fish broke the surface of the water downstream, but he never noticed. Bron had come to fill some sort of void in his life that he never knew existed until she pulled back. A restlessness seized him, and he took her arm. “What’s wrong with you? You look at me, Bron, and it’s like you’ve put up a sign: No Trespassing. Keep Out!” His grip tightened, and he said roughly, “I used to see something in you when you looked at me. What changed it?”
She winced at the power of his grip. “You’re hurting me!” she said. Then she nodded. “I used to think you were wrong not to feel things about people. Oh, you were always doing something for us—but it was just a charity. Something you had to do, until we were gone. Then I thought I saw something change. Maybe it was when you nearly died in the creek and called on God. You seemed—gentler, more loving.”
“I guess that’s right,” he nodded.
“But later—when I saw you punish those men—” She wrapped her arms around herself and shut her eyes. “I never saw such anger! You would have killed them!”
A roughness ran through him. “What do you want, Bron? A monk? You didn’t like me when I showed no concern—and when I do wake up and start taking care of people, you slam the door and hide behind it. What in God’s name do you want from me? Maybe you wish I’d be more like Parris!”
She opened her eyes at his anger. “Yes! You need some of his gentleness.”
“Gentleness won’t work with Ives and Yeager,” he shot back.
She hung her head. “I know that—and I know there must be law, and those who keep men from harming others must use hard ways.”
“What then, Bron?” he asked raggedly, shocked at the depth of feeling she had aroused in him. “What do you want a man to be?”
“I can’t say, Zacharias,” she replied unsteadily, for she had been torn by that scene. “But a man must have compassion—no matter how hard he has to be. And I don’t think you have it. You’re hard—very hard. And until something breaks you, you’ll not have what a real man must have—love for others . . . and trust.”
He stared at her, an emptiness deep within him. “You want a man to be a saint—but the Gulch is no place for saints,” he said evenly. “That’s what happened when the crowd let Stinson and Lyons kill Dillingham. It cried for them, got soft and let them go. But tears won’t stop the toughs from killing.”
“You’ll have to be broken, I think, before you can know what love means,” she said wearily, and walked back down the creek, not looking back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
TWO VISITS FOR BILLY
Billy Page slouched in his chair at the Silver Moon. He took little interest in the poker game, and after losing three hands in a row, he threw his cards down. “Can’t beat your luck, gentlemen.” He strode toward the door but stopped when he heard someone say, “Billy.”
Ives came down the stairs and jerked his head to the left. Billy followed him to an empty corner of the saloon.
“What’s up?”
“Be out by Clay Singer’s old place at five this afternoon,” Ives said, lowering his voice. “Got a job on hand.”
“Don’t want to leave town, George.”
Ives gave Page his full attention, his eyes brittle. “I’m not asking you—I’m telling you to be there, Billy.” He cocked his head. “You’ve not been worth a dime to us the last few weeks. What’s wrong with you?”
Page shrugged. “Nothing. Just don’t feel like going. I’m thinking of pulling out of here.”
Ives shook his head. “You’d be crazy to leave now, Billy. You’ve taken in a bundle—and there’s a lot more.” He glanced furtively around. “In two weeks they’re going to ship over fifty thousand in dust. Not on the regular stage—that’ll just be a decoy. But we know how they’re going to send the real gold. I want just three more men, and you’re one of ’em, Billy. Fifty thousand, cut five ways! You can pull out with your pockets lined.”
Billy hesitated, then nodded. “All right, George—but I’m leaving after that job.”
“All right with me—but you be out at Singer’s old place at five today—and keep it quiet. Boone and Red will be there. Red will give you the dope.” Ives smiled. “It’ll be worth your while. A nice bit of cash to add to your traveling money.” He clapped Billy on the shoulder.
Billy left the saloon and went to hi
s room to change clothes, then walked toward the stable. The December wind was sharp, holding a promise of snow, and he decided the coat he wore wasn’t warm enough. He made his way to Pfouts’ store and found the owner alone. “Got to have a warmer coat, Parris,” he said.
“Snow brewing, Billy,” Parris nodded. “You going on a trip?”
Page said casually, “Thought I’d run out to see Bron. Had a little run of luck at the tables and wanted to take some Christmas cheer to the kids. You pick out some candy and stuff they might like, will you?”
Pfouts searched Page’s face. He was worried about the young man, for he never worked and he was constantly seen with shady characters. Bron had shared her concern with Parris, and the two had often spoken of his easy ways. “That’s a real kind thought, Billy. I’ve got a few things to send them myself if you can take them.”
“Sure,” Billy nodded. “But I got to have a warmer coat. Never could stand cold weather!” He followed Pfouts over to a selection of men’s winter coats and picked out a thick wool coat with wide lapels and big pockets. It was dyed a bright green, and had a hood lined with rabbit fur. He put it on, pulled the hood up, and nodded. “This will do fine.” He paid for the coat, then helped Parris fill a sack with candy for the children and some gifts for the adults. He took the package, saying, “See you later.”
Parris struggled with an impulse, then called, “Billy—” He walked over to Page. “Billy . . .” he began again.
“Yes. What’s on your mind, Parris?”
“This camp is no good for you, Billy,” Parris blurted out. “You ought to get out of this place.”
Billy stared at him. “With a blizzard brewing up? It’d be a rough trip.”
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