More Than Gold

by Nerys Leigh

  “Spruce chewing gum. I didn’t know if I’d be able to find it, but Mr. Lamb had it in his store. I thought you could use it instead of that.” She nodded at the pouch in his hand.

  He followed her gaze. “Why would I do that?”

  She again went over the arguments she’d prepared in her mind. She wasn’t at all sure how this would go down with him.

  “I would like you to stop using chewing tobacco.” She’d decided being straightforward about it would be best.

  A look of confusion crossed his face. “Why?”

  “Because it smells awful and looks awful, but, more importantly, it’s dangerous.” Clear and concise, so he’d see she was right.

  “Dangerous? Where’d you get a ridiculous notion like that?” He shook his head, holding out the tin of gum to her. “Here. I’m obliged, but I don’t need it.”

  She pushed the tin back to him. “I’ve read about it. Research has been done. Many doctors are saying that tobacco, in whatever form, has a bad effect on the body. It causes all kinds of illness and cancer.”

  He placed the tin on the seat between them. “I don’t believe it. I’ve never had any trouble with it.”

  “That doesn’t mean you won’t. Haven’t you ever known anyone who got sick from chewing tobacco?”

  He looked ahead of them, pressing his lips together.

  “My father used to smoke cigars,” she went on, determined to get him to see her point. “My mother finally got him to stop when I was fifteen. It was hard for him, but he did it, and he felt a lot better for it once he had. He had a cough that disappeared and he said he felt like he had more energy and he...”

  “I ain’t stopping, and that’s final.” He still wasn’t looking at her.

  “But...”

  He rounded on her angrily. “You’ve been here less than three days and so far I’ve been pushed out of my own bed, can’t touch my own wife, can’t even sleep in the house, and now you want me to stop chewing? Well I ain’t doing it, so you’ll just have to get used to it!” He shoved the tin of chewing gum towards her and turned back to scowl at the track ahead of them.

  For a few moments she couldn’t do anything but stare at him. She wasn’t used to people simply dismissing her outright.

  Slowly, however, anger replaced her shock. “Chewing tobacco is a disgusting habit. And no matter what you think, it’s unhealthy. And furthermore, if you think you are getting anywhere near me while your breath smells like a cesspit, you are gravely mistaken!”

  He glanced at her and for a moment she thought he was going to argue further, but instead he clamped his mouth shut and looked forward, brows bunched together.

  Folding her arms, she whirled away from him and frowned out across the fields of gently waving wheat.

  Everything had been going so well. She’d been sure that, once she explained the dangers of chewing tobacco, he’d understand and agree with her. Why did he have to be so stubborn?

  And what was she going to do now?

  Chapter 7

  Gabriel sat down on the straw mattress in the barn and huffed out a frustrated breath.

  So much for trying to woo his wife. Grace didn’t need to be wooed, she needed some sense talked into her.

  He’d thought things were looking up between them, but now he wasn’t sure they could get any worse. They’d barely spoken since the ride home. Grace had added some kind of spice she’d bought in town to their supper of vegetable stew and it had been delicious, but she hadn’t said one word while they ate it. Although neither had he.

  The nerve of the woman, asking him to give up his tobacco. He’d been chewing tobacco since he was fifteen years old and it hadn’t ever done him any harm.

  All right, so he’d lost that one tooth at the back on the side where he usually held it, but that could have been anything. Lots of people had missing teeth.

  And yes, his uncle had developed a tumor in his throat that eventually killed him at the age of forty-nine, but there was no proof that was caused by his chewing tobacco. Even folks who didn’t use tobacco got cancer.

  Without thinking, he took his tobacco pouch from his pocket, his hands absently going through the motions.

  And what was he still doing here in the barn? This was the third night he’d been married. Who didn’t get to sleep with their wife for three nights? And how long was this going to go on for? She had no right to tell him what to do when he wasn’t even sleeping in his own bed.

  He glanced towards the barn door, only then noticing the lamplight glinting on something resting near the end of his makeshift bed. It was the tin of spruce gum. He hadn’t touched the thing since Grace had tried to give it to him on the way home. She must have put it on his bed when he wasn’t looking.

  He leaned over to pick it up, turning the small tin box over and over in his hand. Maybe she was trying to help him, but he didn’t need help. He’d run his life perfectly well before she arrived. Why couldn’t she just be like other wives and do what her husband said?

  Although, since she’d bought the stuff, it wouldn’t do any harm to try it.

  He returned the pinch of tobacco to the pouch and closed it.

  He’d try a piece of the gum first. Then he’d have the tobacco.

  Chapter 8

  Grace was hoping that Gabriel would work through his anger with her for asking him to stop chewing tobacco during the night. The moment he entered the house the following morning, however, her hopes were dashed.

  It wasn’t as if he walked around radiating a permanent glow of joy, but in her admittedly limited experience of him, he did normally seem fairly content. Not this morning though.

  He muttered, “Morning,” and sat at the table with barely a glance in her direction.

  Brutus raised his head from his spot by the stove, apparently decided Gabriel wasn’t in the mood for any interaction, and went back to sleep.

  Grace poured a cup of coffee and set it on the table. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

  His only response was a silent shrug.

  Sighing, she returned to the breakfast cooking on the stove.

  They ate in an uncomfortable silence, Grace wondering the entire time if she should say something. On the one hand, she wanted to talk to him. It was only now, as they sat quiet and unspeaking, that she appreciated how much she enjoyed their conversations. But on the other hand, his surliness annoyed her.

  She hadn’t been wrong to ask him to stop chewing tobacco. All she’d done was care enough to want him to stop doing something that was hurting him. She wouldn’t apologize for that.

  Yes, it was also for her benefit. Seeing him spit out the vile stuff made her feel positively ill. And the smell, well, there was no way she could kiss a man who smelled like that. But wasn’t her comfort important too?

  So they sat in silence, eating the fried potatoes she’d made for breakfast while determinedly not acknowledging each other’s presence.

  It was so quiet that Grace almost jumped out of her skin when Gabriel pushed his empty plate away and spoke. “I’ll be going up to my claim today so I’ll need you to take care of the animals. I’ve fed them now, but they’ll need another feeding around five. And Goat will need milking again.”

  “All right.” She could do that. Probably.

  “I might not be back until late.”

  “I’ll keep your supper warm.”

  He stared at his hands resting on the table. “If I don’t come back tonight, it means I’ve decided to stay up there and I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  Her stomach lurched. “You... you’re going to leave me here on my own at night?”

  Even though he slept in the barn, his presence made her feel safe. The prospect of being left all by herself terrified her. She’d never been on her own at night.

  His eyes remained on his hands. “You’ll be fine. I’ll leave Brutus here with you and you know how to shoot now.”

  “I know, but... but what if something happens? Please don’t leave me alon
e.”

  His shoulders rose and fell in a sigh and for a moment she thought he might relent. But then his hands tightened into fists. “You don’t need me here. You can look after yourself just fine. Pretty sure you don’t want me here either.”

  He stood abruptly and strode out the door. A minute later, he rode away on Jed.

  Suddenly realizing he was being left behind, Brutus stood and trotted to the door. He whined and looked back at Grace.

  She walked over to join him, resting her hand on his head as they watched Gabriel ride away.

  When he was gone, she said quietly, “But I do want you here.”

  Tears welled in her eyes and she sniffed them back, rubbing the moisture off on her shoulder.

  “Have I made a mistake, Lord?” she whispered, just the question making her chest constrict in pain. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

  It was true she’d been forced into coming here, but deep down she’d held out a hope that it was God’s will and she would find happiness with Gabriel. But now she didn’t know what to do. How could she keep quiet about the tobacco? It disgusted her, and she was genuinely afraid it would make Gabriel ill.

  Except now he wouldn’t speak to her and she felt more alone than ever. Maybe she should just go home, where she belonged. She could move in with her aunt and spend the rest of her days taking care of her and living out her own life in spinsterhood.

  Could that really be any worse than this?

  ~ ~ ~

  Gabriel picked the final tiny golden nugget from the glaze of dark sand at the bottom of the pan, placed it in the jar, and held it up to inspect his haul so far. Not the best day’s take he’d ever had, but not the worst either. That was nothing, and it had happened more often than he liked.

  He could always use more though. He was barely finding the quarter ounce he needed as a minimum each week, and with the three days he’d taken off for Grace’s arrival and the extra mouth to feed, he was behind. But try as he might, he couldn’t find the drive he usually had when he was at his claim.

  It could have been that Brutus wasn’t with him. True, the dog didn’t do much other than sleep and, on occasion, make a leisurely patrol of the area, but he still provided some company, and something to talk to when Gabriel was feeling particularly lonely. He’d tried talking to Jed, who was munching on the scrubby grass that grew along the river, but it wasn’t the same.

  But if he was honest with himself, Gabriel knew the real reason he was so down was Grace. As usual, he’d reacted before thinking things through and he’d behaved badly. It was a habit he didn’t seem to be able to shake.

  When he really thought about it, and he’d had plenty of time to do that today, he understood that her motives for asking him to stop using tobacco weren’t unreasonable. Would he want to kiss a woman whose breath smelled bad? And his standards were no doubt far, far lower than a lady like her. Why she was even with him was a mystery. There was no doubt in his mind that he wasn’t good enough for her.

  But more than that, she worried that he might get sick. Whether or not she was right about that was debatable, but she thought she was, and she wanted to protect him from that. That meant she cared about him, didn’t it?

  He pulled his tobacco pouch from his pocket and stared at it. He hadn’t had any since the night before, just to see if he could do it, and already he felt out of sorts. More than once he’d had it out and a pinch almost to his mouth before he’d even realized what he was doing. The need for it was intensifying and if it hadn’t been for the spruce gum Grace had bought him, he might have succumbed. He couldn’t imagine lasting another day without it, let alone however long it would take for the cravings to subside. Could he really stop altogether?

  But if it meant he got to keep Grace as his wife, could he really not?

  Sighing, he pushed the pouch back into his pocket. He’d got this far. He would try a little longer. For her.

  He looked out over the clear mountain stream to the rugged gray slopes on the far side of the valley. It was pretty here, in a desolate sort of way. He’d always liked the solitude of being so far away from other people, with no sound but the water tumbling over the rocks and the wind and the occasional cry of an eagle or vulture soaring overhead. The memories of blood and death faded here.

  But for the first time, he wanted to be elsewhere, with someone. He wanted to be with Grace.

  Making his decision, he rinsed out the sand left in the pan into the stream and picked up the rocker box to take back to the cabin he used for shelter. He wouldn’t stay tonight, as he’d intended when he was angry and not thinking straight.

  His wife needed him at home. And truthfully, he needed to be there with her.

  ~ ~ ~

  Pushing aside all worries of her impending night alone, Grace threw herself into her work.

  She began with laundry, gathering a few of her items of clothing for washing and then going through all of Gabriel’s, using her nose to tell her which needed attention. It wasn’t as many as she’d anticipated, but it was more than she would have liked. Not that she was surprised. In her experience with her own father after her mother passed, men left to their own devices tended to be somewhat less than fastidious about how often their clothing got washed.

  The laundry took up most of the morning so she made lunch when she was done, took a chair out onto the porch, and ate with the clean clothing wafting in the breeze on the clothes line to her left and the stunning vista of the valley on her right.

  When she had rested and eaten, she swept and dusted the house, tidied up, checked on the animals, and planned supper. With all that done, she had to face the fact that she couldn’t put off the barn where Fred, Jed, and Goat slept any longer.

  Back at home, the only place Grace had never cleaned was the stables. In spite of having staff, she believed taking some of the chores on herself was something all those fortunate enough to be able to employ others to work for them should do. But the stable was where she’d always drawn the line. It was just... revolting.

  But there was no one else to do it here, and this was her home now. So she wrapped a scarf around her nose and mouth, pulled on a pair of leather gloves, asked Brutus to wish her luck, and went in.

  Ten seconds later she ran out again with a shriek. It wasn’t an unreasonable reaction, she told herself as she stared at the open door and waited for her heart to stop hammering in her throat. The rat she’d seen was so huge it could have passed for a small dog.

  Pulling the scarf from her face, she called Brutus. He plodded over to her from where he’d been sniffing at the drying laundry.

  She stroked his back and pointed at the barn. “Go in there and frighten out the rats, there’s a good boy.”

  He wagged his tail and didn’t move.

  Edging towards the barn door, she patted her thigh for him to follow. “In you go. Good boy.”

  He looked up at her, wagged his tail again, and sat down.

  She sighed and ruffled his furry head. She didn’t want to go back in there while the long-tailed monsters held sway, but without any motivation it seemed Brutus wouldn’t go in without her.

  And then she had an idea.

  Five minutes later she was back with a handful of dried beef, and a very happy Brutus bounding in and out of the barn as she tossed pieces in for him to chase. She’d never seen him so animated and she laughed as he barreled around the interior, startling rodents from their hiding places in his quest to find the tasty morsels of meat. He even chased a couple as they made their escape, although not very far, preferring to return to Grace for more food.

  When she was certain all the rats must have vacated the barn, she left Brutus happily chewing on the remainder of the beef at the door while she set about cleaning the stalls.

  To his credit, Gabriel had actually removed the straw bedding and whatever the horses and goat did overnight, but he hadn’t been overly thorough in cleaning the floors and walls.

  “I’ll be happy once it�
�s done,” she muttered to herself over and over as she scrubbed. “I just have to get it done.”

  After two hours the worst of it was finished and she stripped off her now filthy dress, washed from head to toe, and collapsed onto the bed.

  She was woken by a wet nose pushing into her hand. When she opened her eyes, Brutus’ head was resting on the edge of the bed and he was staring at her accusingly. Seeing her awake, he whined.

  Yawning, she reached for her watch on the bedside table. It read five twenty-seven.

  “Sorry, boy,” she said, sitting up and stretching. “I’ll start supper soon.” Then she remembered Gabriel’s instruction to feed the animals at five and groaned. “But first I need to feed everything else.”

  She gave Brutus a raw carrot so he didn’t think she was feeding the other animals in preference to him, and headed outside. After filling a bucket with grain from the barrel Gabriel had showed her in the barn, she carried it to the pasture.

  She approached the fence with some trepidation. The feeding trough seemed a very long way into the field and she couldn’t help wishing it was by the fence where she could just fill it without going in.

  It wasn’t that she was afraid of Fred. She loved horses. There had been horses kept in her father’s stable at the house her entire life and she’d spent many happy hours riding and taking care of them. Horses, she was absolutely fine with.

  Goats, on the other hand, were completely alien to her.

  Gabriel’s statement that Goat would charge anything if she could get away with it scared Grace more than a little. Would being rammed by a goat hurt? Could she be injured? She was fairly sure she wouldn’t be able to outrun Goat, if it came down to it.

  She sincerely hoped it wouldn’t come down to it.

  She placed the bucket of grain on the ground as Goat trotted up to the fence. “Good afternoon, Goat.”

  She looked up at her and bleated.

  Grace picked up the bucket and gave it a shake. “I’ve got your supper here, so when I come in this gate, can we agree that you won’t charge at me?”