Pale Rider (19 page)

“Rich, by Christ! Sweet Mary Holy Ghost Mother of God I’ve struck ’er rich!”

Whooping and hollering and whirling about like a man possessed, as indeed he was, Conway was holding something the size and shape of a loaf of bread. He kept tossing it from one hand to the other as his exultant voice reverberated off the sides of Carbon Canyon.

“Gossage! Henderson, Barret, look at this!” He held the lump over his head for all to see. “Eddy and Teddy, you pair of clodpoles, come and see what your daddy’s pulled outta the stream!” He turned abruptly so that he was facing down the creek and shook his prize in the direction of the distant foothills.

“Lahood, you son-of-a-bitch, you mush-mouthed offspring of a rancid sow, I beat you! Look at this. Old Spider’s struck it rich!”

Across the stream Bossy and Biggs ceased their panning to view this extraordinary spectacle. Though older and more experienced than Spider, they had none of his savvy. Why, Conway could read, and even write his own name, and in most matters the two elderly partners usually deferred to their compatriot’s greater knowledge.

But now they hesitated, wondering if their mate had, like the train that came from Sacramento three times a week, gone ’round the bend.

“What’s that lump you holdin’, Conway?” Biggs called out uncertainly. “Some kind o’ turtle?”

“Turtle my ass!” Conway laughed and continued his dance, brandishing the precious lump like a weapon. “It’s a lump of aggregate, ya crazy old fart! Mother lode aggregate. Never seen anything like it. Quartz and gold, and damned if there ain’t some silver and lead in it, too. Chock full o’ nuggets. Can’t even count ’em, they’s too many!” He finally ran down like an old clock spring and stood there in the shallow water, staring in wonder at his discovery. He was holding it so tightly his fingers were starting to turn white.

“Shit,” Bossy murmured in amazement. The two old sinners exchanged a look, then threw their tools aside in their haste to scurry through the rocks toward Conway’s claim.

Eddy and Teddy beat them to their father’s side. Both boys stared down at the chunk of matrix. “What you got there, Dad?” Teddy mumbled, gazing at the lump with wide-eyed innocence.

“What’s it look like, y’brainless barn owl? It’s gold! More gold than you’re likely to see the rest of your life, unless there’s more like it right under our feet.” Conway tossed his prize into the air and caught it, marveling at its weight.

“Glory be, but if I don’t think it’s half gold.” He looked up at both his benumbed offspring. “Well don’t just stand there lookin’ like a pair of damn statues. Run and git the mules. We’re goin’ to town.”

“Us?” Teddy gaped at him in disbelief.

“Going to town?” Eddy added.

“You’re damn right ‘us.’ The Conways are goin’ to have them a little celebration.” There was a gleam in his eye that didn’t come from the gold. “Wouldn’t be right for us to keep this little find to ourselves. It’s only fair that we share it with our neighbors. Now git along with you two and hitch up the wagon.”

Hull was watching from his own claim across the creekbed. He was enjoying the celebration almost as much as if the discovery had been his. He’d known Conway ever since he’d first decided to try his luck on Carbon Creek. The old man had provided the newcomer with invaluable practical advice, giving freely of the lore he’d accumulated over the years and asking nothing in return. If anyone deserved to make a big strike, it was Spider.

So Hull Barret was happy for his friend’s success, happy in the knowledge that at least one of them would get out with something more than blisters and memories to show for the many months of back-breaking toil and dull, repetitive work. As for himself, well, it was said that such luck rarely smiled upon more than one miner in ten square miles of claims, and that was back in the boom days of ’49 and ’50.

Movement upslope drew his attention. Sarah had come out of her cabin, carrying a big basket of laundry. She hesitated briefly to gaze down at the celebratory scene that was taking place at Spider’s claim. Then she turned away and crossed to her clothesline.

Of course, he reflected, it was also said that a man makes his own luck. Weren’t there other things worth working for besides gold? So often the yellow metal proved a false mistress to its discoverers. What was it Megan had told him? Something about love, and letting go, and coming back? He shook his head, then wiped sweat from his brow with the back of an arm as he watched Sarah set out her washing.

Several of the seemingly unrelated thoughts that were swimming around loose inside his brain suddenly snapped together as neatly as a clipper ship’s rigging. He let the bucket he was holding drop, oblivious to the water that spilled from it, and started climbing the hill. Spider’s whoops and yells echoed in his ears.

She was pinning the laundry to the line the same as she always did, working slowly and methodically, placing each piece of washing precisely an inch from its neighbor to maximize the room on the line. So intent was she on her work and her own inner thoughts that she failed to notice his approach. He stood there quietly watching her work. Initial certainty gave way in her presence to confusion, which was eventually replaced by determination.

“Sarah?”

One hand froze in the process of securing a pair of bloomers to the line with a well-worn wooden pin. She did not look back, but resumed her work. Seeing that she wasn’t going to say anything, Hull decided to dive in all the way. If he retreated now without saying what he’d come to say, he’d not only damage his chances further, he’d leave looking like a fool. More than anything else in his life, he didn’t want to look like a fool in front of Sarah Wheeler. He intended to have his say.

“I wanted to apologize if anything I’ve done or said is going to stand between us. I’ve taken a lot these past weeks. I don’t think I could handle thinking that, on top of everything else that’s happened.”

“Can’t think of any such.” Her reply was delivered in an even, uninflected voice devoid of emotion.

The silence and the significance of the moment were too much for Hull, an essentially uncomplicated man. Mining was a direct business. He was not used to dealing with subtleties. Unsure how to proceed, he glanced down toward the creek and nodded.

“Look’s like Spider’s payday’s come.”

She turned to follow his stare, sounding noncommittal. “Maybe it was just his turn. Like it was your turn a couple of days ago. Everybody takes their turn, I guess.”

“Yeah, well, leastwise somebody’s gonna say goodbye to Carbon Canyon a few dollars richer.”

“Looks like.”

This time the silence was longer. Not knowing what else to do, Hull moved closer to her. She stepped clear and began to hang Megan’s dress, not so much ignoring him as she was professing disinterest. There was no indication of malice in her movements, but neither was there anything resembling encouragement.

“When we all pack up to leave,” Hull told her, “I hope you know there’s plenty of space in my wagon for,” he gestured toward her cabin, “for whatever you’re wantin’ to take.”

She spoke without looking back at him. “Are you asking us to leave here with you?”

“I reckon we’re all leavin’, ain’t we?” he replied evasively.

To this she said nothing. Then there were no more clothes to hang. As she turned to leave, he ducked under the clothesline and confronted her face to face.

“Dammit, Sarah, ever since your Daddy died I’ve done what I could. I helped you and Megan as best I knew how and never put any conditions on it. Well now I’m puttin’ one. You owe me the truth. What have you got against me?”

“Nothing.” Her reply was barely audible.

“What’s that?” He moved as close to her as the clothesline would allow.

“Nothing. I don’t have nothing against you.”

He didn’t dare smile. He was still unable to believe, still unsure whether to press the issue to its inevitable conclusion.

Oh hell, he told himself, why not? Get it over with one way or the other. He’d lost everything else during a year of being unsure. Lahood had put finish to the community of Carbon Creek. It was time the last loose ends were tied up.

“Well then,” he asked, rather more brusquely than he intended, “do you love me or not?”

She raised her face to meet his eyes and this time, unlike on so many similar occasions in the recent past, he didn’t flinch from that unblinking examination. She took note of that, just as she took note of the pain and hope he displayed so guilelessly on his handsome face. And after a long moment, she nodded.

“You’re the decentest man I’ve ever known, Hull Barret. You’ve watched over me and mine and took care of us when any other man would’ve tried to take advantage. It took me a long time to believe you were sincere in what you were doin’ for us. I blame myself for that. I’ve had a hard time believing in any man since—since Megan’s father ran out on us.” She put a hand on his cheek. It was smooth and warm. She smiled up at him.

“I expect it’s been rough on you. Since that man weren’t around no more I’ve tended to take out all my bitterness on you, and you don’t deserve that. You deserve a lot better. Yes, Hull, I do love you. I have for some time now, but the old hurt made me keep it locked up tight inside. The hurt, and the bitterness. You’re gentle and kind and caring, Hull. I saw that right from the start. I just never could let it out and—I wanted to be sure. For Megan’s sake even more than mine.”

She pressed up tightly against him and he put his arms around her to hold her close. “I wish I were better with words, Sarah, but I never was. I always kind o’ dance around what I’m tryin’ to say without knowin’ how to come out and say it. With a woman, anyways, and especially with you.”

Her eyes shut tightly as she clung to him, the tension that had existed between them shattered for all time. “I’m so sorry, Hull, so sorry. I apologize for being so high-strung lately. It’s just that I’ve—I’ve been so confused.” As she spoke she was looking past him, at the room where until this morning the Preacher had stayed.

It was just as well for both of them that Hull construed her remark as a reflection of his own recent frame of mind. He nodded sympathetically.

“What with everything that’s been goin’ on around here it’s a wonder we ain’t all crazy. But it’ll be all right now, Sarah. You’ll see. I’m goin’ to make it all right for the three of us. There’s nothin’ more to worry about.” He disengaged himself gently and gazed down into her upturned face.

“I ain’t afraid of hard work. I guess not every man’s destined to strike it rich, but that don’t mean he can’t make a decent livin’ for himself and his family. We’ll start over again someplace else. Maybe in Sacramento, or maybe we’ll try San Francisco. And I hear tell there’s even people startin’ to move south, to a little pueblo called Los Angeles. It’ll be just fine so long as we’re all together. There’s always a place in the city for a man that’s willin’ to work hard.

“But there’s somethin’ else we got to do first. First town we get to we’ll find ourselves another preacher. That’s one bit of business I’ve got enough put aside to pay for.” He chuckled softly and gazed beyond her, envisioning the ceremony as the fantasy he’d always dreamed of but never dared hope could be made reality.

He didn’t see Sarah’s eyes drop at the mention of the word
preacher,
nor the blush of shame that stained her cheeks. It faded quickly, however, almost as though she willed it away.

“Yes. Another preacher.” She pulled him to her once again, locking her arms around him and squeezing with all her might as if to force out every last trace of the conflicting emotions that had been tormenting her for the last few days.

Of all the tasks at the mine in which he participated, Josh Lahood’s favorite was to scan the bottom of the forty-foot-long iron sluice for traces of color. The promise of gold enabled a man to shut out the roar of the monitor and the noise of drenched workers shoveling gravel and rock. Not only that, but when he was on collection duty he was usually able to pocket a small nugget or two without being seen. Even if he was, no one would dare report the theft to his father. The operation didn’t depend for its survival on such minor discoveries. Besides, his father was tight with his money, and the gold Josh pocketed was a useful and necessary supplement to his regular allowance. What the old man didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Today the sluice displayed flecks of dust and the occasional larger fragment, but no nuggets. He hadn’t found one in more than a week, and now even dust was becoming scarce. Everyone knew what that portended. Cobalt Canyon was nearly played out, having yielded to the monitor and the sluice all the gold it possessed. The whole operation was going to have to be moved to more profitable diggings soon, or the company would find itself operating at a loss. Every man in Lahood’s employ knew where their next destination was going to be. Just as soon as some minor difficulties were cleared up.

McGill arrived, dismounted near the far end of the sluice, and hurried to interrupt his boss. A couple of the shovel men glanced curiously in the direction of the conversation, though the steady roar of the monitor made it impossible to hear any of what was being said. It appeared to be good news, however, since both the foreman and Lahood’s boy were grinning from ear to ear by the time McGill turned to point toward the trees that lined the far hillside.

Still grinning, the foreman assumed Josh’s place at the sluice and watched while the boss’s son loped toward the rail where his horse was tied. The rest of the men followed his progress until he was swallowed up by the forest. They chatted curiously among themselves as they worked. There was nothing up there but rocks and trees. Yet it was clear McGill had sent the younger man off in that direction with some purpose in mind. They were more than a little puzzled. But since McGill remained by the business end of the sluice and did not offer any explanations, there was nothing for the rest of them to do but attend to their work while continuing to speculate.

Josh guided his mount through the pines. It was quieter up on the hillside. The woods served to mute the monitor’s thunder. Another rider was waiting to greet him, just as McGill had said. Josh strove to hide his surprise.