The Bluebird

by Kristy McCaffrey

She hadn’t lost him. In fact, she hardly knew him. Was there some grand design of the universe that had caused their paths to cross? Was her attraction to him something more?

  Her head spun from the possibilities.

  Her mama’s voice whispered in her ear. It’s God’s plan. Mary Simms believed firmly in a higher power, most especially after Mary’s younger sister—Molly Hart—had been resurrected from the dead ten years after everyone had thought her brutally murdered. It was difficult not to speak of it without using the words miracle and fate.

  Molly had never thought overmuch on the topic, but now she wondered if Aunt Molly had ever felt Providence murmuring in the recesses of her soul.

  Slowly her tension dissipated, replaced by relief. “I’m glad you have a knack for staying alive.”

  Jake grinned. “Me too.”

  * * *

  By late afternoon, Jake halted the animals beside a trickling stream so they could rest and drink. They’d spent the last several hours climbing out of the valley and deserved a break.

  “Are there many prospectors back in these hills?” Molly asked as she led Cinnamon to the frigid water.

  “There can be.” Jake untied the mule’s lead from Fernando then pulled his Winchester from its scabbard. All the animals busied themselves with quenching their thirst. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

  He adjusted his hat and moved up the trail, seeking a vantage point. He noticed tracks in the dirt. Mountain lion?

  He stopped and listened. The wind funneled down the high granite walls and caressed the trees. Birds twittered; a good sign. In his experience when a threat was present, animals became silent. He walked quietly for a time, avoiding the occasional snowy patch, his boots sinking into the soft ground. He scanned the surroundings, his instincts alert.

  Nothing was more reliable than his own gut feeling, a hard-won lesson from his Shanghai escape.

  He and Molly Rose weren’t alone. That much he knew.

  He halted at the sound of panting, trying to determine the location, but in such a narrow ravine the echoes could be deceiving.

  An animal burst from the bushes and leaped for Jake. Jerking around, Jake recognized the mutt at the last second and lowered the barrel of his rifle. The dog bounded up to him and planted his front paws on Jake’s chest, desperately seeking a face to lick.

  Jake scratched the dog’s ears and leaned forward so the animal could get his kisses in. “Grom, it’s good to see you.” The dog’s straight, brown hair was a bit natty, but otherwise he was well-cared for by his owners.

  “There he is.” Ivan Krupin’s stocky frame burst through the brush, holding a shovel in his hand. “I knew it had to be someone we knew, the way he took off. Either that or he’d found a sweetheart.”

  Jake laughed as Grom settled back on all fours, wagging his tail like a cowpuncher swinging a lasso. “I hope I’m not Grom’s sweetheart.”

  Ivan sighed. “I think you’re all he’s got. Pearl and I don’t get many visitors.” He tugged at the black fisherman’s cap atop his head and watched Jake with his left eye—the right one was covered with a patch, thanks to a dynamite debacle years ago. With the man’s swarthy complexion and scruffy beard and mustache, Jake had always thought he looked like a pirate.

  Jake shook Ivan’s hand. “You’re a little far from home.”

  Ivan shrugged. “Just a few hours. Been digging up a few pilings. You here to steal all my hard work?”

  “Nah. I’ll stay out of your hair. I’ve been wanting to explore a valley near here.”

  “Which one?”

  Jake sidestepped Grom as the dog rubbed against his leg. “I’ll let you know when I find it.”

  “Prospectors and their secrets,” Ivan groused, but then he laughed. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

  “I’m not. I have a partner.”

  Ivan raised an eyebrow. “You and Robbie make up?”

  “Of a sort. I’ve got his sister with me.”

  “Don’t pull my leg, McKenna. Pearl would give her left arm to see another woman.”

  “Then Pearl will soon be armless.”

  Ivan let out a hearty bellow. “Damn, what are we waiting for? Show me this elusive female before I’m convinced you’ve gone loco from too much tarantula juice.”

  “Speaking of which, I’ve got a bottle of rye you’re gonna like.”

  Ivan clapped him on the back. “You’re the son I never had.”

  The sentiment was sincere, and also filled with heartache. Ivan and Pearl had lost their only child—a boy—many years ago.

  * * *

  Molly liked Ivan Krupin immediately. Upon introduction, he’d scooped her into his arms in a boisterous hug, and his dog Grom had nearly knocked her to the ground with his bouncy antics. Ivan had no horse, so Jake walked beside him while leading Fernando as they continued farther into the wilderness. The mule didn’t care for the dog but finally started moving once Ivan directed Grom to run ahead.

  With a shovel resting on one shoulder and a knapsack on the other, Ivan angled his body so that Molly could hear him from where she sat atop Cinnamon. “Robbie’s a good boy except for keeping company with that hooligan, Winston.”

  “If it’s any consolation,” Jake said, “I don’t think Robert does it because he likes the man.”.

  Ivan shook his head. “Then I hope he knows what he’s doin’. You know I owe you one.”

  “And I’ve come to collect.” Jake lightly clapped the man on the back as they resumed walking.

  “Name it.”

  Jake threw a glance back at her. “Can Molly Rose bunk with you and Pearl while I go searching in the hills?”

  Ivan let out a whoop. “Of course she can. Pearl will squeal like a pig in mud.” He looked at her. “You’re always welcome in our home, miss.”

  “My thanks,” Molly said. “Why do you owe Jake a favor?”

  “I’m almost too mortified to say.” Ivan shook his head. “But I will, since Jake saved my hide. I was duped by that no-good Winston into buying stock in a bogus company. Jake recovered my money along with the incriminating paperwork.”

  “So Winston was right when he accused you of stealing,” she said to Jake.

  “Guilty as charged.” He didn’t appear remorseful.

  Ivan looked at Jake, concern in his gaze. “Hope you didn’t have any trouble over it.”

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

  Jake caught her eye and held it for a moment. It was clear he didn’t want her to elaborate on what had transpired between him and Winston.

  It was a bit of a trek, but after several hours, they approached a cabin, small corral, and shed nestled under a copse of trees. Smoke spiraled from the chimney. Grom bounded forward, ears flopping.

  A tall woman with a trim build came onto the porch and waved. An apron covered a faded wool skirt and shirtwaist, the sleeves bunched at the elbows.

  Molly dismounted and strode forward for an introduction.

  “I know who you are.” Pearl engulfed her in a hug, much the way Ivan had done.

  Molly enjoyed the warm embrace, marveling over the affection the Krupin’s had for complete strangers, and then faced the woman again. “You do?”

  Eyes as green as the forest greeted Molly. Pearl’s thin lips stretched into a crooked smile, her brown hair dappled with gray and knotted in a bun at the base of her neck. “I’m Pearl, and you’re Molly Rose.”

  “How do you know my name?” Molly asked, awed by the woman’s foresight. Pearl was like a fresh gust of wind, exuding a sense of knowing. Gazing into the woman’s face, Molly was enveloped in a cocoon of peaceful serenity. “Have we met before?”

  “You’re the spitting image of your brother, and he’s told us so much about you.”

  Of course.

  Molly smiled, embarrassed that she had thought Pearl was some otherworldly earth mother. She was simply a woman who paid attention.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jake sat at the table inside the Krupin’s modes
t cabin, Molly beside him, along with Ivan and Pearl. They ate hearty portions of a rabbit and turnip stew Pearl had prepared. It was as if she’d known they were coming.

  There were times when Pearl sometimes said peculiar things, but Jake had generally dismissed them as the musings of an old lady who spent too much solitary time in the woods. Their cabin was isolated, even by a recluse’s standards, and Ivan frequently went off into the mountains alone.

  “I’ve got three places I plan to check out,” Ivan said. “I found some pilings and want to see if I can find the source.”

  “Near here?” Jake asked around a mouthful of food.

  “Ah c’mon, you know I can’t tell you that.”

  “Why?” Molly asked, her arm bumping Jake’s. His left-handedness collided with Molly’s right-handed tendency. She pretended not to notice, so Jake indulged himself by touching her whenever he could.

  “Prospectors are a superstitious lot,” Ivan said.

  Pearl stood. “Is that what you call it?” She retrieved the coffeepot warming on the stove and poured a cup for Ivan and Jake. “It’s more like a madness.”

  When Pearl hovered over Molly’s cup, Molly waved her away. “I won’t be able to sleep.”

  “Everyone worries about claim-jumping,” Jake said, sitting back and resting his arm on the back of Molly’s chair.

  Ivan drank his coffee and released a happy grumble. “Pearl, you make the best brew this side of the Rockies.” His gaze settled on Molly. “While claim theft is a problem, a bigger concern is all the men who start sniffing around once you find something.”

  “They’re all hoping to find other access points to a vein, but the most important find is the apex,” Jake added.

  Molly leaned back and didn’t flinch when Jake’s fingers brushed her shoulder. “What’s that?”

  “In simple terms,” Jake said, “it’s the beginning of the vein at the surface. If you’re lucky, you’ll stake your claim on it, then the law of the apex, otherwise known as the Mining Law of 1872, gives you the right to follow that vein until the end, even if it crosses someone else’s claim.”

  “Why don’t you just file multiple claims all over the area you’re interested in?”

  Ivan chuckled and Jake smiled.

  “Working a claim is backbreaking labor,” Pearl said, settling back into her seat. “In order to keep your claim, by law you must develop it. Prospectors are better off finding one or two areas to claim and focusing on them, rather than spread the work out too much.”

  “How big can a claim be?” Molly asked.

  “Maximum length is fifteen hundred feet, and the width is three hundred,” Ivan said. “You get everything that’s straight below it, unless it’s the apex, then you can branch beyond the boundaries of your claim. However, the discovery point has to be within these boundaries. Sometimes you make a claim, but after weeks of digging, you can’t find anything worthwhile. That discovery point you thought you had turns out to be worthless.”

  “What do you do?”

  “Find another claim, if any remain in the area,” Jake replied.

  Molly turned to him, her eyes a deep hue of moss-green in the flickering light of the oil lamp on the table. Her nose was reddened from the long day spent trekking into the mountains “This all sounds very difficult.”

  Jake reluctantly removed his hand from Molly’s chair before he gave in to the inclination to touch her again since they had an audience. “Prospecting isn’t a get-rich-quick scheme.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Ivan cut in.

  Jake smiled. “I guess that’s why we keep chasing it. You never know what you’ll find on the next rocky cliff side.”

  “Are there any women prospecting out here besides Pearl?” Molly asked.

  “I only prospect when I have to,” Pearl replied. “But there really aren’t any women out here.”

  “It’s tedious and often-boring work,” Jake said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Are you headed out with Jake tomorrow?” Pearl asked.

  “I’d like to.” Molly pinned him with a hopeful expression.

  “If you find something, then you’ll have to share it.” Ivan pushed his bowl aside and patted his stomach.

  “There is a power in contracts.” Pearl buttered a biscuit then looked at Jake, and then Molly. “There’s always a purpose behind them.”

  Fate ran a finger down Jake’s spine. He hadn’t told either Ivan or Pearl about the Chigger, but, as usual, they’d managed to hone in on it, nonetheless.

  “Pearl is right,” Ivan said. “Take care if you plan to break one. I’ve never seen any good come from it.”

  “Point taken.” Jake caught Molly’s eye and found his own bewilderment reflected back at him.

  A smile tugged at her mouth as she turned away and asked Pearl, “How long have you and Ivan lived out here?”

  “We’ve been here for almost three years. At first, we lived in a tent, and Creede was nothing more than a throughway for miners coming and going from Lake City and Silverton. The growth since then has been extraordinary.”

  “How did you get supplies?” Molly asked.

  “Whenever and wherever we could.” Pearl laughed. “We’ve always managed, somehow.”

  “I can see why you’d love it here. It’s so beautiful and majestic. I’ve never seen such a place.”

  “There’s a feeling in these mountains like few places I’ve been. The powerful current of the earth itself flows strong—in the streams and the air and the trees, and even the rocks.”

  “You should listen to her,” Ivan said. “Every time she’s told me about the rocks and her feelings about them, I’ve found something. She’s my own divining rod.”

  “Damn,” Jake muttered. “Now I know your secret, Ivan.”

  “And she’s all mine. Get your own secret weapon.”

  Jake’s gaze flicked to Molly, but her attention was on Pearl.

  “I have an aunt,” Molly said. “Her name is Emma, and she has the ability to know things as well.” Her voice held a hint of reverence. “For her, it was almost as if she couldn’t switch off the knowing. She told me once that it was like slipping into a stream and having it rush around you.”

  “And now?” Pearl asked.

  “She’s more deliberate.”

  “It takes practice to enhance one’s ability to see. For me, if I become very still and quiet, I can hear.”

  “What do you hear?” Molly asked.

  “The sound of the earth and all her creatures.”

  Pearl’s face glowed in the lamplight, and, for a moment, she appeared very young, a slip of a girl with a preternatural ability to navigate the world with extraordinary senses. It was clear to Jake that Molly was a perfect match, a spirit with the ability to grace those around her by peeling back the layers of the visible world.

  “Be grateful for whoever comes because each has been sent as a guide from beyond,” Jake said, the words climbing from a memory long ago, a time and place etched permanently into his mind.

  “Where does that come from?” Pearl asked.

  “A poet I studied while in Turkey.” His teacher—a blind man named Doruk Mataraci—had easily been the smartest man Jake had ever met. They’d bonded over Turkish tea and milk pudding, and a tendency to see life as a game.

  Pearl beamed at him. “You are The Jackal—as clever and sly as the coyotes we have.” She looked at Molly. “I hope you can keep up with him.”

  “I won’t leave her behind,” Jake said.

  “Now, the bunch of you out.” Pearl waved them off and stood again. “I need to clean up supper.”

  “I’ll help,” Molly offered.

  Ivan pushed his chair back with a scrape. “You grab that bottle of rye, and I’ll grab my pipe,” he said to Jake.

  Jake nodded.

  “Give me a cup, woman,” Ivan demanded.

  Pearl shook her head but grabbed two clean tin cups and handed them to Jake. Grom hightailed it after the
m as they went outside. Jake retrieved the bottle of liquor from his gear in the shed then sat in a rocking chair on the porch, Ivan beside him. Jake poured a bit of whiskey into each cup and settled back to sip the strong brew and watch the thousands of twinkling lights crowding the night sky.

  Ivan stuffed his pipe and struck a lucifer, puffing until the tobacco started to burn. “I like her.”

  “Pearl? I’d hope so.”

  “No, you scalawag, Molly Rose.” Ivan took a swig of his drink then inserted the pipe back into the corner of his mouth. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not gettin’ any younger, McKenna. You really ought to settle down. A good woman can make all the difference in a man’s life.”

  “I don’t doubt that.”

  “’Cause I can think of no other reason you’d bring her out here.”

  Jake downed his cupful of firewater. “Maybe she owns an important claim, and I mean to steal it from her.”

  Ivan stilled, his gaze pensive. “I know you’ve lived life on the outer reaches, son, but I also know you’d never go so far as to ruin a pretty young thing like Robbie’s sister in there.” He flicked his head toward the interior of the cabin.

  Jake stared into his empty cup. “You think too highly of me, Ivan.” Ever since Molly Rose had come into his life, Jake had been plagued with pangs of wanting to be a better man. It was a novel and unexpected sentiment. The man he was had never bothered him before.

  Ivan leaned close. “For the right woman, we all strive to be a man worth his salt.”

  The pungent tobacco aroma reminded Jake of the men on the steamer that had taken him to Asia all those years ago. They’d been a mix of cutthroats, wanderers, and opportunists—oddly honorable men but selfish in their own pursuits. In a word, pirates. It was a tribe into which Jake had taken residence, a kinship that had fit him like a glove, but it was hardly a life that a woman like Molly Rose would long for.

  “How is it that you’ve stayed with Pearl all this time?” Jake asked.

  Ivan tapped the pipe, dumping the used contents onto the porch, then started repacking it again. “What you’re really asking is how does a man hand his life over to a woman.” He struck another match and lit the pipe again. “But it’s really the other way around. I’d be lost without my Pearl.”