Janet Quin-Harkin (29 page)

She had just finished her inspection of the room and lain back again on the soft feather pillows when the door opened and Gabe came in, carrying a tray.

“You’re awake,” he said. “I had planned to wake you gently with a kiss. Now you’ve deprived me of one pleasure.”

“I’ll go back to sleep again if you wish,” she said, smiling at him. She lay back on the pillow and closed her eyes. “There. I’m sound asleep.”

He put down the tray and tiptoed over to her, bending to give her the most delicate of kisses on the forehead. She opened her eyes to look into his warm, brown ones and his lips moved to fasten onto her own.

“Whoa, steady there,” he said, breaking away as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ve got breakfast waiting on a tray. Don’t get me excited now or the eggs and bacon will be cold before we get to them. Besides,” he went on, playfully pulling her upright, “it’s never done before breakfast in the best of households. Surely you remember that from Boston?”

He took her hand to lift her up from the pillow.

“Gabe, I’m naked. I can’t get up,” Libby protested. Gabe laughed and fetched his own silk gown for her, easing her into it like a little child. Still holding her hand he took her through to the table in the sitting room and seated her as if he were a head waiter at a good restaurant. “I hope this is to your liking, ma-dame,” he said.

Libby shook her head as if he had produced a miracle. “Do you know how long it’s been since I had either eggs or bacon?” she asked. “After beans everything looks wonderful.”

“No more beans,” Gabe said firmly. “As soon as you’re dressed, we’re going to rent you a horse and go up to bring down the children and your things to the hotel.” She opened her mouth to speak but he put a finger on her lips. “No ifs or buts, that’s an order. I leave you alone for a few minutes and you start shooting people and getting yourself hanged, so it’s clear to me that you ought not to be left alone. You are dangerous to yourself and to the population at large. Therefore I’m going to keep you under my wing until we can make more permanent plans.” She went to say something again but again he cut her off. “And don’t say what will people think. People can think what they like. You’re a damned sight safer in my care than you are being prim and proper out at that cabin.”

Libby stuck a generous strip of bacon on her fork. “I hope you’re not always going to be this bossy.”

Gabe laughed. “Just where your safety is concerned,” he said. “You’ve been let loose too long. I aim to take good care of you.”

She laughed and pretended to be busy with her breakfast, but inside she still could not shake off the sense of wonder. He really loves me, she thought. He wants to take care of me. And she felt like crying.

After breakfast she washed and dressed, enjoying the luxury of hot water and real soap and soft towels. She wished she had something prettier to put on, very conscious of her homemade dress and its lack of style. I’ll have to get some better clothes if we’re coming to live in town, she thought and was amazed at the calm way she was accepting this radical step in her life. It was as if her near brush with death had eradicated all of her past and she was now a newborn person, planning a future completely free from past restraints. She brushed her hair and tied it back with a ribbon, noting in the mirror how girlish she still looked with her freckled nose and her long red curls. Her eyes were still the wide, hopeful eyes that had looked back from her mirror before she married Hugh.

Gabe had gone to see about the horses and told her to join him at the stable when she was ready. With a last look around the room she went down to meet him. As she crossed the lobby of the hotel, two miners came out of the dining room, their saddlebags slung over their shoulders. They nodded respectfully to her as she swept past, then one of them ran to catch up with her.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” he said, touching her arm lightly, “but wasn’t you the lady riding around the camps last fall, looking for an Englishman?”

“Yes, I was,” she said, blushing and wondering if this man had seen her go up to Gabe’s room.

“And you never found him?”

She shook her head.

A big smile crossed his unshaven face. “Then I think I might have news for you,” he said. “I was coming up from Sonora and the southern mines. I spent the night in a place called Angel’s Camp and I heard about this young English guy who bust his leg up pretty bad. Seems he’s been laid up all winter after a bad fall. They said he was a real gentleman and he spoke real refined. Looked as if the wind would blow him away, one of the guys said. They call him Gentleman Jim. That sound like him?”

Libby’s heart was beating so fast that she could hardly breathe, let alone speak. All she could do was nod. “Yes,” she said at last, “that sounds like him.”

“Then I think you’ll find him at the hotel down in Angel’s Camp,” the miner said.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

The miner tipped his hat. “I’m very glad to have been of service, ma’am. I bet he’ll be mighty glad to see you.”

“Yes,” she said, “I’m sure he will.”

She managed to walk out, past the other miners, keeping her face composed. Once outside, however, she ran down the street to the stable. Gabe was just coming out leading two good-looking bays. He saw from her face immediately that something was wrong.

“What is it?” he asked, catching her as she almost stumbled.

“I’ve just met a man who’s seen Hugh,” she gasped.

“You’re sure it was him?”

“It sounds very like him,” she said. “The man said he had broken his leg and been laid up all winter.”

“Where is he?”

“At a place called Angel’s Camp, down south of here.”

“Angel’s Camp? Yes, I know it,” Gabe said. “Good gambling place.”

There was a pause as they stood looking at each other. Then Gabe said, “So what are you going to do?” at the same time as Libby said, “Gabe, I’ve got to go to him.”

Gabe nodded. “Yes, I guess you’d have to.”

She turned her head away, afraid to look at him anymore. “It was like a dream, wasn’t it?” she asked. “Too good to be true.”

“Maybe it’s not him,” Gabe said.

“Yes, maybe. But I’ve got to go anyway.”

“I understand,” he said. “I’ve just rented you a horse. Wasn’t that lucky.”

“Very lucky,” she said mechanically.

“So you’ll go right away?”

“I have to know,” she said. “Can we send word out to the children? I know Ah Fong can take care of them for a couple of days.”

“I’ll go out there myself, if you’d like,” Gabe said.

Libby drew a circle with her toe in the dust. “I was wondering if you’d come with me.”

“You want me to come with you?” Gabe asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I’d like you to. It’s a long way to go on my own.”

“You’re asking a lot of me, Libby,” he said flatly. “It’s not in my nature to be that generous and deliver a woman I love back to her husband.”

“I know I’m asking a lot,” she said, blinking back the tears. “It’s just that I want to be with you for as long as possible, but if it’s too hard for you, I understand.”

He looked at her with longing. “You know I’d do anything for you,” he said. “We’ve got the horses. We’d better get going. It will take us a couple of days. I’ll just let them know at the hotel and have someone go out to your cabin. . . .”

He handed her the bridle and strode up the street. Libby watched him go, noting every little detail about him, the way his coat hung well from his broad shoulders, the way he walked with fluid grace, the way the hair curled over his collar. She didn’t know how she could ever live without him.

It was a perfect spring day as they set out, the colors clear and bright, the soft green curve of the hills etched against a clear blue sky. It seemed as if all nature was conspiring to mock their despair; bright carpets of orange poppies and purple lupines decked the sunny slopes, giant gold and black butterflies flittered around them, bird song resounded through the tall pines and old oaks. The horses hooves made a muffled thud on the soft yellow earth of the trail as they rode side by side and the warm sun threw black shadows beside them, shadows of a man and a woman that merged as the horses walked together. Neither of them spoke. When Libby glanced across to Gabe, he was staring straight ahead, his eyes focussed on the path. She knew she shouldn’t have asked him to come, but she couldn’t bear to let him go.

This was a gentler country than Libby had seen so far with none of the steep ravines they had encountered on their first journey or the rocky hills around Hangtown. At times it seemed that all it lacked to make it like the familiar New England countryside was some cows or sheep in the rich grass and little white churches nestled in the hollows.

The trail wound up and down hillsides, crossed over foaming streams on frail-looking wooden bridges and forded gentler streams where bare-chested miners were back at work and where dragonflies darted in flashes of green and red. From time to time they passed through settlements, some no better than tent cities, some already turning into real towns: Diamond Springs, Eldorado, and then Plymouth and Amador City. Some were deserted, while in others men still lounged idly on the hotel porches or even dug hopefully in the town streets. Nobody showed much curiosity as they passed. They were a couple out for a visit and, as such, nothing out of the ordinary.

Libby noted that there were already women in some of the towns. Tired-looking, sun-browned faces peered from the occasional tent and once several ragged children ran out. A sign tacked to a large tent read: Ma White’s Boarding House. All The Comforts Of Home. Reasonable Rates. Inside, bunks were stacked to cram in as many miners as possible and an awning covered a kitchen table and stove where a scrawny middle-aged woman was kneading dough. She looked up at them and gave Libby a weary smile as she wiped a streak of flour across her forehead.

By late afternoon they had reached the town of Sutter Creek. Gabe looked critically at the line of hotels and saloons.

“Which do you fancy?” he asked. “I’m no expert on this region, so take your pick.”

Libby took in the shaded sidewalks and the aura of civilization most places still lacked, then she turned to Gabe. “Would you mind very much if we just had something to eat and then we went on?”

Gabe’s face clouded. “You are so anxious to complete the journey?” he asked. “We won’t do it tonight, however hard we press the horses.”

Libby smiled at him. “No, it’s not that,” she said. “It’s just that I don’t feel that I could face hotels and strangers and noisy saloons. The weather’s really mild—couldn’t we just camp for the night away from everyone and everything? I’d like to remember those nights on the trail together.”

“As you wish,” Gabe said stiffly, then he grinned as if aware of the black humor in their situation. “If you hadn’t been so stubbornly self-righteous in those days, think of the wonderful time we could have had together.”

“Hardly, with all those men looking on.”

“I don’t know,” Gabe said speculatively. “We could have crept away often enough. Still, it doesn’t do any good dwelling on what might have been, does it?”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t,” Libby said.

They stopped just long enough to get a meal, then mounted again, riding on until the sun began to sink across the plains, which could now be glimpsed stretching out as far as the eye could see, glowing pink in the setting sun. They brought the horses to a halt as Libby stared out to the west.

“I suppose Sacramento must be down there,” she said.

“A little farther north,” Gabe answered, putting up his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “And Stockton’s farther south. There’s nothing in between.”

Libby shielded her eyes too. “All that empty country,” she said. “It seems a waste to leave it uncultivated.”

“I don’t think much would grow there,” Gabe said. “It floods every winter, and it gets no rain all summer. All the Californios do is run cattle. They don’t attempt to grow things on those big ranches of theirs.”

“The Californios?”

“That’s what they call the Mexicans who originally settled this place. They have huge land grants up and down the valley, although I gather most of them have left their cattle for gold, which is more productive.”

Libby sighed. “I’d like to have a house in a place like this and feel that I was looking out over the edge of the world.”

“Too far from civilization for me,” Gabe said, laughing. “How would I make a living out here? I need life around me.” He jammed his hat more firmly onto his head against the evening breeze which swept in from the west. “You see, we have nothing in common,” he said. “It’s probably a good thing that we are forced to part. We’d soon get tired of each other.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Libby said. Then she made the mistake of looking at him. She bit her lip and turned away again.

“Do you want to stop here then?” Gabe asked. “No sense in pressing on until it’s dark.”

“Here looks fine to me,” Libby said. “We could spread out the saddle blankets under that big oak tree and sit and watch the sun set.”

“Your wish is my command,” Gabe said formally. He slipped from his horse and helped her down, leading the two horses up onto a mound crowned by an oak. Then he unsaddled them and tethered them to graze, placing the saddles side by side against the gnarled trunk of the oak.

“Comfortable?” Gabe asked when they were both sitting with the saddles as backrests.

Libby nodded. “As comfortable as I can be at this moment,” she said. “I’m sorry, Gabe. I shouldn’t have begged you to come with me. It was selfish and I had no right. . . .”

He reached across and took her hand, squeezing it but saying nothing. It was their first contact all day. As they watched, the sun became a ball of red fire and sank into the haze. The sky turned from pink to light blue to pearl. The trees faded to silhouettes. A brisk wind rose from the valley.

“I hope you haven’t made a mistake,” Gabe said.

“I hope so too,” Libby said, “but I have to go, don’t I?”

“I meant about sleeping out,” Gabe said. “It’s still only spring. I hope you won’t find it too cold.”

“I’ve got you to keep me warm,” Libby said. She shivered. “I want you to hold me, Gabe.”