Gold Rush Bride

by Shirley Kennedy

  “You mean right now? I dunno. It’s already the middle of the afternoon. By the time you get up there, you’ll be in the dark. Maybe you should wait ’til tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow would be too late. “Can you get me some water, Laura? Have someone take care of my horse. I’m heading up there right now.”

  “Don’t be a damn fool and go up there with nothing to eat. Wait and I’ll make you some sandwiches.”

  Minutes later, he walked out of town, found the obscure trail that led to Charles’s claim and began a steady climb. He wouldn’t get lost. He’d been there before and knew the way. It had been a while since he’d hiked up a trail as steep and rough as this one, but he didn’t care. His mind set on finding Letty, he kept a steady pace despite the steepness of the climb and the thick brush, rocks and boulders that got in the way. After an hour, he had to take a rest. He stopped by the creek and found a log to sit on. After that grueling climb, his lungs screamed for air, but five minutes would be all he’d give himself. Mathew was going to hurt her. His fear grew more real with every step he climbed.

  He had just tipped his canteen to his lips when he caught sight of a slight movement higher up on the mountain. Lowering the canteen, he watched as a figure emerged from the trees. Mathew. What was he up to? Why was he all humped over, leaning on a stick as if he needed support? As the small man drew closer, Garth saw he was carrying two bulging knapsacks on his back. Both appeared to be enormously heavy, apparently the reason he couldn’t stand straight. He was alone. Garth got to his feet and waited.

  Bent over, eyes focused on the ground, Mathew didn’t see Garth until finally, getting close, he looked up. At another time, Garth would have laughed at his sudden, horror-struck expression and the way he staggered like a drunkard at the sight of another human being. Not now, though. Silently Garth waited while Mathew, dragging his feet, slowly drew closer. When he got a few feet away, Garth called, “What have you done with her?”

  A glint of recognition lit Mathew’s eyes. “Mr. Morgan?”

  “Where is she?” He got the words out through gritted teeth.

  “What are you doing up here? What are you talking about?”

  Garth stepped closer. “This morning you and Letty set out to see her brother’s claim. Now you’re coming back alone. Where is she?” Fists clenched, he fought a near-overpowering urge to seize the little man by his throat and shake the truth out of him.

  “Well, you see…” Mathew bent to lay down the stick he’d used for walking. With the heavy burden on his back, he had to strain to stand erect again. The moment he did, he reached under his coat and pulled out a gun and aimed it at Garth. “Too bad you had to come up here.”

  For a moment, Garth stayed silent, struggling to grasp the incredible fact that his timid, mild-mannered clerk was aiming a Colt six-shooter at his heart. “What the hell? What are you doing?”

  “Getting what’s mine, Mr. Morgan. You won’t stop me.”

  “Why the gun?”

  “For protection. There’s enough gold in these knapsacks to keep me rich the rest of my life.”

  “You got them from Charles Tinsley’s claim?”

  “From the new one, Montezuma. That ‘fabulously rich vein of gold’ he called it.” A satisfied smile curved his mouth. “And it was.”

  Now he was beginning to understand. “It was you who stole Charles’s gold shipment.”

  Mathew paused a moment before answering, as if aware his next words could never be forgiven or recalled. “Yes, I took his gold. Can you blame me? For years, I’ve had to live on a pauper’s wage while men all around me were getting rich overnight. Men like you, Mr. Morgan, greedy, unfit and undeserving. One gold shipment wasn’t enough. That’s why I waited. Charles kept his mouth shut, but I knew he’d made a fabulous gold find that he called Montezuma. I had to have it.” Mathew smiled, as if he was beginning to enjoy himself. “Thanks to your precious Letty and her map, I did.”

  Even now, hearing the truth, Garth could hardly believe the man who’d served him for years, loyal and selfless, or so he’d thought, was a scheming liar and worse. That hard, passionless glint in Mathew’s eyes made clear he was dealing with a man with no conscience, no scruples and no heart. “What did you do to Charles?”

  Mathew shrugged, as if the question hardly needed an answer. “I killed him. You’ll never find him, so don’t bother to try.”

  A combination of rage and growing anguish knotted in Garth’s throat, but he must hold himself in control. He asked softly, “What have you done with Letty?”

  “You’ll never know.”

  Mathew’s hand trembled, causing the gun to waver back and forth. Doubtful he’d listen to reason but worth a try. “For God’s sake, put the gun down. Let’s talk. Nothing’s to be gained if you kill me.”

  His pudgy face hard and unyielding, Mathew pulled back the safety catch. “You’re a dead man.”

  Now or never. Time to act. Garth sprang forward, arms stretched in front of him. Just as his hands wrapped around the little man’s throat, a shot rang out and a searing pain raced through his upper right chest, just beneath his shoulder blade. The force of the blast knocked him backward. He staggered and fell. Must get up. Must find Letty. He couldn’t think straight. Black dots swam before his eyes. He lifted his head and kept trying to rise until darkness overcame him and he knew nothing more.

  * * * *

  For a time, she had no idea how long, Letty sat in a daze. Breathing was all she could manage. Slowly her foggy brain cleared. Mathew, the gun. He’d tried to kill her but couldn’t do it, the little coward. Chose to tie her to a tree, leave her here to die. She looked toward the late afternoon sun, now hanging low in the western sky. The temperature would soon be dropping. Doc’s jacket would help, but the light wool wasn’t nearly enough to keep her warm through the night.

  The deep, steadily increasing ache in her arms constantly reminded her of Mathew’s shocking indifference when he’d yanked them behind her. She wiggled her fingers. Yes, she could still feel them even though her hands were getting numb. No wonder, the way he’d tied them so tightly. And who would come to untie her? Who even knew where she was? Sheer, black fright swept through her. There’d be no help coming.

  She tilted her head back and screamed, “Help me,” loud as she could and was met with an eerie silence broken only by the rustle of wind through the trees. One scream was enough. How useless, and what if an animal heard? Plenty of wolves, mountain lions and grizzly bears roamed these parts. One could attack at any moment, and she, tied to tree, would be helpless to defend herself.

  Nothing could save her. She would either freeze to death, die from thirst and starvation, or get mauled and eaten by some animal. The grim prospect caused her to hang her head and weep as a wave of hopelessness overtook her. After a time, she bit her lips to control her sobs. No sense dwelling on the inevitable. Instead, think of Mother, Millicent, William and all the good things that had happened in her life. Think of Aaron, her first love. Think of Garth and their good times together, not how he’d broken her heart.

  The trees cast ever-lengthening shadows as she sat in hopeless silence until, thinking of Aaron, she recalled the sailor knots he’d taught her. What kind of knot had Mathew used? Hadn’t he said he’d been a seaman? She moved her fingers. They were cold and nearly numb now, but perhaps…? Yes, she could barely feel but was able to trace the curves of the rope. A bowknot? Aaron had said it was a favorite with sailors, used to tie a line to a post.

  She moved her fingers over the rope again. Definitely a bowknot. If she knew how it was tied, could she not untie it? She mustn’t get her hopes up, but she was going to die anyway, so why not try? Briskly she wiggled her numb fingers until finally a bit of warmth and feeling returned. She squeezed her eyes shut and pictured that long-ago day when she and Aaron sat in the sunshine on a pier at Boston Harbor, and she, piece of rope in her hand, had followed his directions as he patiently explained how to tie a
bowknot.

  “You form a loop near the end of the rope. Then you run the end of the line back through that loop. Next, you run the rope around the standing end and back through the small loop. Then you grasp the end, pull the knot tight and you should have a large loop now. See how the bowline tightens under pressure so it won’t give way? That makes it impossible to untie while bearing a load.”

  Even now, after all this time, she could see the big smile that lit his face when she untied the knot correctly and he said, “See how easy? Congratulations, you’d make a great seaman.”

  Her last chance. She had to try. Slowly, with endless patience, she moved her fingers, searching for a rope end, an almost impossible task with her hands tied together and made even worse when she couldn’t see behind her and her arms throbbed with increasing pain. She kept going until finally she uttered a grateful, “Ah yes!” She’d found one end of the rope. Don’t drop it. If she did, she’d likely not find it again.

  As Aaron had taught, only in reverse, she ran the end back through the loop she found. So far, so good, but she must stop a minute and calm herself before her pounding heart beat its way right out of her chest. She paused and waited. When her pulse slowed, with creeping fingers, she followed Aaron’s directions until she was almost done. Just one more pull on the rope, but how could she? The more she moved her hands, the tighter the knot became. She must do two things at once: press her hands tight against each other and pull on the rope, both at the same time. An impossible feat, but she must try. This would be her last chance. She’d never be able to trace the knot again. Gritting her teeth, her whole body tense and trembling, she called upon every last bit of her strength as she pressed her hands together, tight as she could. As she pressed, slowly, with infinite care, she reached with two fingers and pulled down on the rope end. It moved. Had her desperate effort worked? She moved her hands. The rope fell away as her hands parted.

  Free!

  Sending up a little prayer to God and a thanks to Aaron, she got to her feet. No time to dwell upon the miraculous feat she’d just performed. She had to get down the mountain fast as she could. With darkness setting in, how far could she go? Hiking that rough trail was bad enough when the sun was shining. At night, it would be impossible. She looked to the west where rays from the setting sun cast a pink glow in the sky. Maybe she had an hour more of daylight. She couldn’t get all the way to Empire, but with luck she could get back to Charles’s claim and that old, torn blanket in his campsite. In the mountains, temperatures dropped sharply at night. Lately, they’d been just above freezing, but if she could just get to that blanket and the torn pieces of tent, she might have a chance. The touch of a chill breeze brushed over her, causing goose bumps to rise on her arms. Not a moment to lose. She pulled Doc’s jacket closer around her and headed down the mountain.

  She had no problem finding the ravine. After half sliding, half skidding down the side, she easily followed the stream uphill. When she came to the boulder with the black “X,” she didn’t slow down. She’d wager Mathew had taken some of the nuggets, probably as many as he could carry. There’d still be plenty left, though. How ironic that a fortune lay at her feet for the taking, but at the moment getting rich was the furthest thing from her mind.

  The sun had set. Darkness was fast falling by the time she came to the end of the ravine. Now came the hard part—scrambling across the steep slope, barely able to see where she was going. A cutting wind caught her as she crossed an open ridge, but she kept up her pace and never stopped once. Fear drove her forward, along with the sure knowledge that if she didn’t get to someplace warm, and soon, she’d never survive the night. By the time she got to Charles’s camp, the last of the daylight had disappeared, and she had to grope her way through the darkness. She was desperately hungry and longingly recalled the lunch Mrs. Del Vechio had packed in the knapsack that Mathew took. But never mind about food. A light snow began to fall. Her teeth were chattering, her whole body shivering from the cold. She must find Charles’s blanket. Without it, she would die, and she probably would anyway. Groping her way, she came to the rocks that surrounded the blackened fire ring. And just beyond…? She couldn’t see a thing, but she felt for and found the torn, muddy blanket. Even in her misery, she smiled at the irony. If this were Boston, she’d have a hard time even touching the disgusting thing. She’d be so repulsed at how ragged and dirty it was, she’d toss it in the trash. She wouldn’t now, though. Here in this desolate spot, lost, alone, hungry and about to freeze to death, she threw this last reminder of her brother around her shoulders and drew it close around her. It might save her life, if only she could last through the night.

  The snow fell harder. Wrapped in the tattered remains of Charles’s blanket, she found two pieces of canvas from the tent. She spread the largest piece on the ground, lay down, and pulled the other piece over her, all she could do against the relentless cold. Curled up tight as she could get, she eventually stopped shivering. She was still cold, though, so very cold. At first, she remained wide awake, but soon her eyelids started to droop. How nice it would be if she could just drift away and leave all this misery behind, but she mustn’t fall asleep. She’d never wake up if she did. She forced her eyes open wide. Stay awake, stay awake.

  Soon her eyelids drooped again. Maybe this time she’d let them stay closed, just for a little while.

  * * * *

  “Letty! Letty, wake up!”

  What was this? Something gripped her shoulder and was shaking her.

  “Letty, wake up.”

  She opened her eyes. In the darkness, she couldn’t make out the figure leaning over her, but she knew his voice. “Garth? What are you doing here? How—?”

  “Get up. I know you’re cold, but you’ve got to walk. Either that, or you’ll freeze to death.”

  Before she could reply, he used two strong hands to lift her to her feet. Her knees wouldn’t support her and she sagged toward the ground. “I can’t. Just let me sleep.” Her lips were so numb from the cold, she could hardly get the words out.

  “In a pig’s eye you can’t walk.” He caught her and raised her up again. “Got to wake you up. Start walking.”

  Half dazed, so frozen she could hardly move, she twisted away, but his relentless grip on her shoulders and the unyielding command in his voice told her no use arguing. She forced herself to take a step, not easy in the dark with the snow coming down. By now, at least three or four inches covered the ground. They started walking at a steady pace around the campground. Gradually her mind cleared, and filled with questions. “Garth, how did you get here?”

  “By foot, how else?”

  “Mathew tried to kill me. He tied me up and…and…”

  “Don’t talk.” He walked her around the campground until she lost the numbness in her limbs and her head cleared. “That’s enough. We’ll lie down now. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.”

  They lay together like spoons, the blanket wrapped around them, the pieces of canvas spread on top. The warmth from his body engulfed her in its welcoming embrace. The snow might still be falling, the night might grow colder still, but she would be all right.

  Except… Charles was dead. Mathew had killed him, but she wouldn’t think about that right now. Mathew had stolen the gold, which meant she owed Garth a big apology. They’d have much to discuss in the morning, but at this moment nothing mattered except she was lying tight in Garth’s sheltering arms, safe, alive, and so very grateful.

  The sun was just rising when she awoke and found Garth was gone. Feeling a touch of warmth on her back, she threw off the blanket and sat up. He was piling small sticks of wood on a fire he’d built next to where they’d slept.

  She stretched her hands toward the flames. “Good morning. A fire? How did you manage?”

  His face lit when he saw her. “Good morning. With a knife, a flint and some luck. There’s not much dry wood around here.”

  She went to the creek to wash up. Some
where along the way, she’d lost her comb, so all she could do was run her fingers through her hair and smooth it down. Not much she could with the rest of herself, either. She must look a wrinkled mess in her borrowed men’s clothes, but it didn’t matter. She was alive, and that was a miracle. Alive and enormously hungry. Yesterday, when she thought she was going to die, food was the farthest thing from her mind. Today, hunger pangs from her empty stomach were demanding her attention, but she’d have to wait until they got back to Empire. It would be a long, tough hike down the mountain.

  When she came back and sat by the fire, Garth reached in his pocket. “Here’s something from Mrs. Del Vechio.” He pulled out two large sandwiches wrapped in wax paper and handed one to her. “She thought we might get hungry.”

  Food! Bless her prickly landlady’s heart. She took a sandwich and unwrapped it. Thick white sourdough bread….big chunks of chicken...slathering of mustard and mayonnaise…nothing ever looked so good. She took a bite. “Ah, how wonderful. I will never think a bad thought about Mrs. Del Vechio again.”

  Garth laughed. “The old gal isn’t much on manners, but except for her rents, she’s got a generous heart.”

  While they ate their sandwiches and drank cold, pure water from the creek, they sat on either side of the campfire and talked. Anger blazed in Garth’s eyes when she related how utterly shocked she’d been when Mathew turned on her, tied her to a tree and left her to die. His anger turned to admiration when she described how she’d untied the bowknot.

  “It’s a good thing you did,” he said, nodding his approval. “I knew where Charles’s camp was, but without the map, I could never have found the Montezuma claim.”

  When she finished telling her story, she was about to ask how and why he’d found her when she noticed the hole in his coat and pointed. “That looks like a bullet hole.”

  “It is.” Garth reached under his coat and winced. “Mathew shot me. The bullet didn’t do much damage, though.” His expression went grim. He ran a hand over his face. “He won’t bother you anymore.”