The Beholding, page 23
Tess turned from his gaze. “I want to believe that.”
“Good, then I have to say this. I can’t count myself as your friend unless I do.” When he considered what might have happened if he hadn’t decided to take a stroll and see if she was ill or lost, it built white-hot rage inside him. “Don’t keep putting yourself in such danger.” She would probably be angry with him again, but it was a risk he’d have to take.
She whirled away from him. Instead of a burst of temper, she displayed a calm more frightening than anger. “Oh, you’ve made it perfectly clear you won’t always be around. Like I told you, Luke, I’ll find a way to protect myself.”
“Good, because not a man alive would pass up the chance you gave Ragmorton. Look at me, dammit!” He ignored where they were, all the people who looked on, and pulled her close until he felt the rise and fall of her breasts. “I want you, Tess. I want to be the one to hold you.”
He wanted to kiss her senseless, the way he had that one wondrous night that would haunt the rest of his days. But he could make no such requests of her. Not until he made the choice he must—to honor his word and bring her to justice or cast aside all he held sacred and make her his wife. Luke felt her drawing away, saw caution where he had hoped to instill desire.
Tess’s voice trembled as she took a few steps backward. “You warned me you were leaving, Luke. I appreciate honesty more than you’ll ever know.” She half turned, then looked back. “Just don’t expect me to wait forever while you make up your mind if you really meant it.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Tess wondered what detained Luke as the barrel-chested Hi Washburn tossed her small carpetbag on the boot of the lumbering old coach and shinnied up to the driver’s seat. Hi squinted at her with a where-the-devil-is-he look. She offered him a disarming smile, and he subsided into a muttered rumbling.
“Maybe he decided not to go on,” Daggert said, helping her and Tommie into the coach.
“No, he would have at least told Tommie good-bye.” Disappointment caused her to sound petulant. She’d given Luke every reason to leave last night. He owed them nothing. Georgetown was less than fifty miles away. He had more than fulfilled his end of the bargain. She supposed she could send his pay to the boardinghouse once she transacted business.
“Better get his hide here in two minutes, cause this coach is moving out on time,” Hi informed them.
Eight people shared the interior, while another rode on top with the driver. Jim hitched his roan to the boot.
“Hold that stage,” a voice called out.
Luke! He made it. Tess wondered if he planned to ride Talon alongside or take a seat.
The driver grumbled something cheeky about a so-and-so who thought time stood still for a badge, then offered a hearty hello to Luke. “So, it’s you again. Thought you got your guns busted in Wichita. Should’ve known that sack of snake piss was lying. Ragmorton ain’t got a truth in his head.”
Luke rushed to tie the dun to the boot and squeeze into the seat next to Tess. Washburn barked a sharp command to the horses and flicked the nigh leader to buckjump the others. They were off!
Swinging around the corner at a brisk clip, he headed due west. Tommie waved at the few early risers gazing admiringly from the plank walks. Tess braced against the back of the seat, trying to determine the driver’s pattern. The bumps and jostles seemed less difficult if she emulated the rhythm of the coach.
Washburn slowed down for the narrow Platte bridge that shook and trembled as they crossed. There seemed to be a short burst of speed, then they began to climb the highlands. The grade leveled and the driver chirped the team into an easygoing but steady trot. A treeless plain rolled past the windows, covered with sagebrush and buffalo chips. The road began to wind, well defined and rutty.
As they bounced along, the passengers introduced themselves. Tess joined in but quickly lost interest as she concentrated on making Tommie comfortable in such cramped quarters. There was more room if she held him in her arms, leaving a bit of space between herself and Luke.
Luke patted his lap. “He’s welcome to stretch out here. He looks a bit sleepy. Awful early to have to get up.”
Tess stared out the window. “For all of us, after such a late night.” She wanted to add after such a sleepless night, but didn’t. Too many strangers ready to add their own comments.
Luke pointed out landmarks. “That’s Mount Vernon Canyon, then Apex Gulch. Over beyond those flat-topped table mountains is Golden City.”
Suddenly the horses began to gallop. “Hi’s trying to beat his time.” A round of conversation between some of the locals revealed Washburn’s reputation of being the fastest driver in the Rockies, who strove to improve his time whenever possible.
Tess thought Luke liked the faster clip because it threw her shoulder against his more often than not.
They didn’t so much as slow down at Ten Mile House. Instead a man stood before the building ready with a sack which he tossed on top of the coach with a long swing. A word of salutation passed between the station keeper and driver, then the team swung south.
Washburn cursed so loud it drifted back to the passengers. The team slowed. Luke stuck his head out the window, then darted back in. “An ox train. Slow as molasses.”
The driver made a wide sweep around them through the sagebrush, hurled a few condemnations as he passed the oxen. The freight liner hurled a few back to Hi in return.
Tommie looked at Tess. “Mommie, what’s a road-stealing son of a—”
Tess clamped one hand over her son’s mouth and glanced up apologetically. Every face was drawn to her own. “Nothing, son.”
“Now that’s not true, Tom.” Luke frowned and offered the other passengers a wink. “That’s oxen talk. That man was trying to get those oxen to move out of the way.”
“Can I learn it?”
Daggert leered at Luke. “You got yourself into that one, Reeves.”
Luke nodded. “You surely can, boy. When … you get big enough to drive a team of oxen.”
Everyone chuckled. Tess smiled despite her anger at the bounty hunter.
Though there were sweeping turns and fresh team hook-ups at the hospital portal of Mount Vernon House, fords to cross, and a tollgate run by young Doc Patrick, the coach traveled no narrow roads until they reached Floyd Hill. Dinner was served at Junction Ranch where Tess chose to wash her face but not to comb her hair, since the community comb hanging on the peg looked like it had something crawling in it. Still, the meal tasted delicious and cost a dollar.
By the time Washburn reached the dried-apple-pie stage of his dinner, the hostlers had hooked up the team. With a grand departure, they turned, then slowed down for the climb up a lengthy incline. A hero-worshiping small boy in tattered trousers, seated on a fence, hailed Washburn.
“Yip—ee!” Washburn yelled, apparently showing off for the boy.
Tess hung tight to her precarious roost on the heavy, leatherslung, swaying old Concord coach. She glanced out the window, gasping at the yawning chasm inches away from the wheels. “Does he have brakes?” she worried aloud.
“Probably not using them,” Daggert informed her. “Wouldn’t do much good if he was. Lord help us if we throw a wheel or the kingbolt breaks.”
“Thanks for reassuring us,” Luke complimented sarcastically.
A mile and a half below, they reached level ground. Tess offered a prayer of thankfulness. They passed a swift-flowing cascade where a handful of men worked along the stream. The panners looked up and waved their beaver hats at the stage.
“Clear Creek,” Luke announced to all who watched. “About five miles out of Idaho Springs.”
Tess straightened and took a closer look, straining to see the land and waters, but too many of the others did the same. The gold findings at Clear Creek had been big news in the paper last year. She would wait until the other passengers’ interest waned, hoping to get a better view as they rode closer to the springs.
Five miles passed quickly. Idaho Springs appeared to be an active settlement, but after Washburn’s grand entry, all he did was stop long enough to toss off a couple of parcels of express. As the coach moved on, Tess assured Tommie, “We’ll come back here as soon as we’ve settled in.”
The last change of horses came at Mill City. Approaching a road junction after the Lawson house, the horses’ pace stepped up. The driver took a left-hand fork in the road, and the Concord entered a valley with a stream flowing down the center. As they followed the stream’s course, soon cabins and small houses began to appear. Though scattered indiscriminately, each generally followed the water course. There seemed little semblance of order and nothing that could be called streets. The road wound in and out avoiding the evergreen trees and marshy places. The Concord crossed a shaky bridge, then the land inclined sharply.
Washburn cracked his whip. The horses strained at the reins and tugged up a block-long hill. Suddenly the driver yelled, “Whoa!”
The horses came to a stiff-legged halt before a large house. A lean, lantern-jawed man stepped out of the crowd of loungers near the doorway and opened the door to the Concord. A grin spread from one side of his face to the other. “Howdo, folks? My name’s Lionel Cramden. Welcome to the Silver Queen city of the Rockies … Georgetown!”
Tess’s first glimpse of the Barton House made her wonder how her own home compared. The house stood on a knoll which afforded a good view of the valley.
Lionel showed them around the inside of the pretentious two-storied hotel. “Better not take in the town tonight,” he warned. “You’ll want to get your bearings and know your way around. The streets are hilly, and there aren’t any real sidewalks. The only lights we’ve got are kerosene lamps in the saloons and in a few of the shops. Stores close at ten o’clock, but the saloons stay open till the last man leaves. Got two flossy ones in Upper Town—Barney Harvey’s Keg House on one side of the gulch and the Gayosa. This is Saturday, so hell will be popping. Miners flock in from all over the hills with gold or silver in their pockets. Durned if they won’t be proud to see your little one, ma’am.”
“Tommie?” In a protective instinct, Tess gripped her son by the shoulders.
“A child and a good woman’s something we don’t see much around here, ma’am. The men will be right proud to make your acquaintances.”
“Then I don’t suppose there’s a church or a school established yet?” Her hopes began to plummet. She had staked so much of her happiness on the idea that a home and school would provide the new life she and Tommie needed.
“Hadn’t been no reason till now. But I’ll bet we could talk Hansel Andersen who runs the local mercantile into lending you his room overhead, and you could conduct the school or church there, whichever you wish.”
Tess held her hands up in a wave of denial. “I’m not skilled enough to do either, but I’ll help in some other way.”
“So, you do plan on staying?”
Tess nodded. “I’ll be living at Harper Hall.”
Lionel’s lantern jaw sagged. “Surely not?”
Misgiving spread a cold shiver of anxiety through Tess. She had traveled too far, suffered too many obstacles to let a single man’s obviously bad opinion of her home get the better of her. “Why not, Mr. Cramden?”
“Well, ma’am. Harper Hall is a mine located in Lower Town. Ain’t much more than a shack sitting next to the entrance, and Nugget lives in it. He mines the thing for a man in Arkansas … a Clifton Harper.”
“My husband.”
“It’s got a cot and a stove. Not much else.”
“A mine?” Tess said the word slowly as her heart sank. “There’s some mistake.” Yet she knew it wasn’t. She should have suspected. The papers Clifton had made her copy when he was teaching her to read and write concerned mines. He’d used her until she had caught on. Did he laugh at her even now from the grave?
Laugh, she told him silently, steeling herself against the disappointment. You won’t get the best of me. I’ll take your stupid mine and I’ll work it. I’ll make Tommie and me a life without you. “How do we get there?”
“You won’t let her stay out there?” Lionel looked from Daggert to Luke. “It’s not fit for a lady or a child to live in.”
Luke’s brow arched at Tess. “Your decision.”
“I want to see it.”
“We’ll help her get settled, then take a room here.” Jim eyed the rest of the crowd. “Are there good poker tables in town?”
“Plenty, for those good enough to play ’em,” Lionel said.
“Have you got a wagon or buggy to take the lady to her place?” Luke lifted Tess’s small bag and grabbed Tommie’s hand.
“Follow me.” Lionel motioned them out to a wagon standing in front of the Barton House. “I keep the team hitched near time for the stage to arrive. Somebody’s always coming to Georgetown and the silver fields.”
He showed Luke where to store her small bag. “Didn’t bring much, did you?” Lionel helped Tess and the boy onto the buckboard. Luke and Jim saddled up and rode behind them.
The wagon lurched and soon rolled past the shacks and shanties, some of the large houses and saloons, then headed up the incline.
“How far from town is Harper Hall?” Tess looked back as the town grew more distant. Tents scattered along the stream offered makeshift homes to the miners.
“Far enough to keep Nugget from civilization, but close enough so you can light a fire and the town could see it if you have Indian troubles.”
“Indians!” Tommie bounced on the seat.
“Indians,” his mother whispered in a slow exhale of breath. What have I gotten us into?
As they bumped their way up the hill, Tess noted the box elders, evergreens and aspens that dotted the landscape for as far as the eye could see. Their beauty became lost in the thoughts of how she could clear enough land of their towering height to plant a garden. The wagon rattled and jolted along the pitted road that snaked toward an appalling shack made of pickets.
When Lionel reined up in front of the ramshackle house, Tess glanced up the trail, wishing this was all a dream, merely a place he had to make a delivery and not the home she’d come to find.
Cupping hands around his mouth, Lionel hollered, “Hello the mine! Nugget, you in there, man?” He turned to Tess. “Got to always announce yourself if you don’t want trouble. Might think you’re a claim jumper if you don’t.”
In a daze, Tess climbed off the wagon, staring openmouthed at the rough building before her. She helped Tommie down, blinking away the tears of utter disappointment. Behind her, the creak of saddles signaled Luke and Jim were dismounting.
Tess grasped Tommie’s hand in her own and retrieved her bag. “Is the man home?” she asked, wondering why Lionel Cramden walked over to the hole in the mountain and hollered the same as before. “Is that the mine?”
“Yeah. Might be down deep enough he can’t hear. You go on into the shack and have a look around. I’ll see if he’s in here.”
Tess forced herself to trudge the small path to the shack. She raised the iron latch on the door, found it wasn’t locked, then pushed it open. The rusty hinges screeched as she let sunshine into the dark interior. Light from the dirty cracked windows revealed a dirt floor, a table and pot-bellied stove. One cot and a wash bucket. In one corner a chest of drawers stood, missing one drawer.
Her heart pounded so hard Tess heard it drumming at her temples. This was a nightmare. Her chest tightened until she couldn’t breathe. She gulped and plowed through the male bodies who had followed her in. “Let me out,” she pleaded.
“Mommie, don’t cry.”
“Does madam not approve?”
Tess turned to find a strange man standing alongside Cramden. With the smudges on his face and the pick in his hand, this could only be Nugget. She had expected an older, grizzled man. At first she thought Nugget’s question sarcastic, then she caught the French inflection and wondered if he asked about himself rather than their lodgings.
“You’re Nugget?” Luke queried before Tess could speak.
“Oui, monsieur. Louis DuMonde LaTouix. Nugget to my friends.”
Tess understood how he’d earned his nickname. As the man smiled and offered his hand to Luke, then Jim, the span of white teeth had two imperfections … two front teeth glistened with gold.
Two heads shorter than herself, the man strutted as if he were at least a foot taller. His dark mustache and beard looked rail thin and painted on rather than grown.
The stout little Frenchman bent, taking her hand and kissing the tips of her fingers. “Welcome to Harper Hall, madam. Had I known you were coming, I would have”—he gestured exotically—"cleaned the place up a bit, oui?”
He bent before Tommie, offering his hand. “Enchanted Will you be staying long, monsieur?”
Tess stared at the Frenchman for an extended pause. “We’ll be staying forever. I’m afraid, Mr. LaTouix, that this,”—she waved to the pitiful shack—“is what my son and I must call home.”
Chapter Twenty-five
“This cannot be!” Nugget exclaimed, turning to the lantern-jawed man. “Is this a joke, Lionel?” He laughed and slapped his friend on the back. “Merde, you win this time. But I will think of something more devious, oui?”
Lionel twisted his hat around in his gnarled hands. “Ain’t a joke, Nugget. This is really Harper’s wife. Widow, I might say. She’s come to Georgetown to stake her husband’s portion of the claim.”
Luke noticed Tess’s distress and thought she looked as if she might fall down if she didn’t sit soon. “Let’s take this talk inside the shack. I think Mrs. Harper needs to get her bearings.”
Nugget hurried inside and apologized as he dusted one of the chairs. “I only sleep here and spend my time mining, madam. I regret this is in such a state.”
Reaching to one of the shelves nailed to the wall, he took down three metal tins and a bottle of bourbon. The Frenchman smiled apologetically at the crude drinking utensils. “I do not have much company, but they are clean and the bottle, she is fresh. Enjoy.”
