Copper

by Krystal M. Anderson

  “Come have a seat by me, Noah.”

  He climbed into the adjacent chair obediently, folding his arms and resting his head on them automatically.

  “What fine manners you have, Noah,” Mac praised, earning a nod from the boy, then he mimicked Noah’s position. “I’ll offer the prayer. Our Heavenly Father, thank you for this food we are blessed to partake of, and for our good health. Thank you for bringing Joan and the boys to Silver City, even though Harris is gone. This we pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”

  “Amen,” three voices echoed. Joan reached for the potatoes with shaky hands, saying a little prayer of her own that Mac would not notice. It was a beautiful prayer he’d given. She’d never heard Harris pray like that; had always doubted he knew how.

  “Mmm mmm. I feel like a king about to feast. Your mama is a fine cook, boys. How lucky we are!”

  “I guess so,” Jesse said around a bite of carrot. Noah was quiet, as always.

  Forks clinked against plates as they chewed hungrily. Joan watched her sons, wishing they hadn’t spent so many nights with growling stomachs. It seemed, blessedly, that was about to change. Then the thought occurred to her that maybe she’d made too much – that these food supplies were meant to last them as long as possible. If there was one thing she’d learned how to do in the years she’d been married to Harris, it was to make something edible with very little supply.

  “I didn’t overdo it, did I?”

  Mac groaned, “It’s wonderful, Joan. I’ve never had a meal like this in my own home. I’ll be loosening my belt come June if you keep cooking meals like this.”

  She stared at her plate, pleased with his praise.

  “I’d like to take you and the boys to the mercantile tomorrow morning after I get the animals fed,” Mac continued. “We’ll need more supplies now that you’re here: clothes, food staples, that sort of thing.”

  “We can make do with what we have, Mac. No need to go spending anything on us.”

  “I insist; you’re family, and you arrived with so little. Just make a list and bring it along. It’ll be fun to buy for someone besides myself for a change.”

  Uncomfortable, Joan raised her eyes to his. Harris had never worried about buying clothing for her or the boys. In fact, he never worried about food, either. He’d always left it up to her to figure out how they’d get by… and she had. Certainly she could continue, at least until she figured out what could be done with the mine.

  “Mac, there’s no need…”

  “Please,” he interrupted, his deep voice settling over her. The sound of it smoothed the rough edges of her feelings, filling her soul as easily as it did the house.

  “Okay,” she heard herself say. “Tomorrow it is.”

  Three

  W hen Mac entered the cool house early the next morning, Joan had the boys washed, dressed, and fed, and she was just finishing scrubbing the breakfast dishes.

  “Well hello there,” he smiled down at the boys. “Good morning, Joan.”

  He looked so fresh for the earliness of the hour. His face was clean-shaven and he’d parted his hair. She couldn’t help but marvel at how he and Harris were raised side by side but their personalities never seemed to cross; they just stayed at a parallel. Physically, though, the resemblance was easy to see. Both brothers had a powerful build with thick, sturdy legs supporting a trim torso. Mac was a bit deeper in the chest, his arms and shoulder muscles filled his clothing, but Harris had been taller. It seemed the thick brown hair was a family trait, though where Harris’s eyes had been hazel, Mac’s were a warm brown. “Good morning. Have you eaten yet?”

  “Nah, but I’ve had coffee. I’ll be fine until mid-day. How did everybody sleep?”

  “Great, Uncle Mac. Your house keeps the wind out at night. I like that.”

  “I’m glad, Jesse,” Mac replied, raising a brow in concern. The questioning look he tossed to Joan ran her right through, and she felt embarrassed at the destitute way they’d been living before. “Now, I know that Mr. Myrtle at the mercantile has a jar of peppermint sticks. If you two behave yourselves while your mama and I shop, I’ll buy one for the both of you.”

  “Yippee!” Jesse hollered, and Noah’s eyes widened with excitement, the corners of his lips tipping up slightly. If Mac kept this up, he’d win Noah over in no time, and Joan hoped for his success. That boy needed a man to look up to; a good man to pattern his life after.

  “Let’s go, Uncle Mac.” Jesse pulled on Mac’s hand, Joan and Noah following after.

  “Juniper! Is he coming with us Uncle Mac?” The little gray pony was tethered just outside, a pack saddle strapped to his back. Two dark brown eyes watched Jesse through strands of mane as the pony chewed on a mouthful of grass it had pulled up.

  “He sure is. I thought he could carry our things back for us.”

  “Surely we won’t be buying enough for him to carry, Mac,” Joan protested.

  “Well, I thought we could stop by the grocer after we pick up some dry goods at the mercantile, and the butcher, too. Do you have your list?”

  Joan nodded.

  “Good. Jesse, will you help me lead old Juniper? Take the lead rope in your left hand and keep your right hand there under his chin. Perfect.”

  Jesse held his chin high, walking in front of Juniper to pull him along when they reached the creek. It was a beautiful late-spring morning. The sun peeked out at them from behind a gray cloud, reaching with one brilliant arm to the infinite blue beyond. Across the creek on Jordan Street, Silver City came to life. The dairy cart rolled along, angling to stop at the Idaho Hotel. On the boardwalk, a young boy was hollering at passersby to get their copy of The Avalanche, Idaho territory’s first daily publication. Joan grasped Noah’s hand and pulled him close to her side to avoid the men going about their business on foot or horseback, especially those hanging around the saloons. It was a rugged town wedged between two mountains: craggy War Eagle to the east, green Florida Mountain to the west. The mines had brought most of the town’s twenty-five hundred occupants, at least indirectly. With the number of mines rumored to be over two-hundred, Silver City certainly had a fair share of precious metals running through it.

  Joan smiled as she watched Jesse chatter while they walked. Her heart lightened at the way Mac chuckled and teased the boy. She could hear the clink of dishes as they walked past The Slippery Spoon and the smell of fresh coffee wafting from the open front window.

  Myrtle’s Mercantile sat in the middle of the block on Washington Street, across the road and up from the two-story courthouse and jail and the post office. A bell above the door jingled when they stepped inside. Two others waited to be helped at the counter, and when it was their turn, Mac stepped forward and said, “Hello Jim. How are things going around here?”

  “Oh, same as always, Mac. Busy.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “And who are these fine folks? Family?”

  “Yes, sir. This is my sister-in-law, Joan, and her boys, Jesse and Noah. They’ll be staying at my place for a while.” Lowering his voice, Mac said, “We lost my brother recently.”

  Mr. Myrtle looked at Joan with sympathy. She shuffled uncomfortably. Was Mac this friendly with everybody?

  “I’m terribly sorry to hear it. My condolences to you all. What can I help you with?”

  “I’d like to purchase some clothing and boots for the boys, and whatever else Joan is in need of.”

  Mac turned to Joan, gesturing for her to take over. She pulled the list from her hole-riddled skirt pocket and offered it to Mr. Myrtle. “We won’t need ready-made clothing, sir. If you have some bolts of fabric, I’d like to look them over.” Turning to Mac, she said, “It’ll save money if I sew them myself.”

  “Yes, but it’ll take time. Why don’t you buy an outfit or two for each of you, then sew the rest.”

  She hesitated, feeling horrible and a bit embarrassed over the burden she’d brought upon her brother-in-law by arriving in such a humble state
. “Very well.”

  “The ready-made items are in the back corner there, Mrs. Walley, as well as our selection of fabrics. Bring me the bolts you’d like and I’ll add them to the other items here.”

  “Thank you.”

  She led the boys to the back to look over the ready-made clothing, handing them several items with instructions to take them to the counter. The fabric selection was meager so it was easy to settle on a few bolts with the yardage she would need. Her spine stiffened when Mac stepped to her side, his palm cupping her elbow. “While Jim fills your order, why don’t we walk over to the grocer and butcher to get some food to fill the cupboards with.”

  “I’m sure I can make do with what you’ve got already, Mac. You mustn’t worry about us.”

  “I’ve no doubt you can, resourceful as you are, Joan, but those little boys of yours need some fattening up.” He must have sensed her hesitation when he added, “If you don’t tell me what you need, I’ll just do the best I can in selecting everything myself. You might as well do the choosing.”

  The man was persistent, if nothing else. Chagrined, she nodded.

  With Noah and Jesse in tow, they made several more stops at the businesses along Washington Street until Juniper was laden with all manner of packages wrapped in brown paper and string, canned food, and several cuts of fresh meat. True to his word, Mac handed the boys each a peppermint stick which they accepted with genuine thanks and gusto. The heavy bag of flour was heaved onto one of Mac’s broad shoulders as he tipped his head toward Morning Star Road.

  “Think you can manage Juniper yourself this time, Jesse?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “That’s a good boy. Watch the road and make sure nobody gets too close to Juniper’s hindquarters, alright? This pony has seen a lot, but if there’s one thing that upsets him it’s when somebody crowds him from behind.”

  “Okay Uncle Mac.”

  As they worked their way east, Noah seemed to take a sudden interest in the pony, grinning as its head bobbed up and down with each step.

  Joan said, “He’s cute, isn’t he Noah?”

  “Uh-huh.” Then quick as a whip, he pulled free of her grasp and ran at Juniper, hands extended to touch the pony’s soft tail. Juniper balked and kicked out behind him, narrowly missing Noah. When his nearest hoof came back down, however, it couldn’t have been aimed for the toddler any better.

  Noah howled in pain and dropped to the ground clutching his left foot while Jesse steadied the pony. Rushing to Noah’s side, Mac lowered the sack of flour and knelt beside him as Joan took him into her arms. She already knew what was coming. Mac would raise his voice and scold the boy for his disobedience, maybe even spank him right here in the road. She tightened her grip, ready to lift Noah and put some distance between the large man.

  She couldn’t have been more surprised when Mac rested a hand on Noah’s quivering shoulder and said, “What a brave boy you are, Noah. Can you hold tight to your mama while I look at your foot?”

  Whimpering, Noah shook his head emphatically.

  “No? How will I know if it’s still there?” For show, Mac began searching in the dirt, scratching his head when he couldn’t find the foot. “Hmm… it’s gotta’ be here somewhere…”

  “It’s here, on my leg,” Noah cried, wiggling his toes tenderly.

  “Ah, so it is. Now you keep being brave and I’m going to touch it, just for a moment.” Before Noah could grant – or refuse to give – permission, Mac carefully felt the appendage which had changed from white to red, and then a darkening purple color. Noah buried his head in Joan’s chest, clutching her sleeves.

  “I don’t think Juniper broke any bones, but it’s going to bruise up,” Mac announced. “You’ll be alright, Noah, if you give your foot some rest. And you’ll remember not to crowd Juniper again, won’t you.”

  Crying softly, Noah nodded.

  Meeting Joan’s eyes, Mac offered a small smile before pulling the bag of flour to its place upon his shoulder. What could she say? His actions had left her speechless and struggling to understand what had happened. Hefting the boy to her waist, Joan followed along mutely, puzzling over the man who had given her, Jesse, and Noah more than he would ever know by showing such kindness.

  Four

  F our days more slipped through her fingers and still Joan couldn’t think of a way to save her late husband’s share in the mine. She’d worked hard arranging the bedrooms in Mac’s house, tackling the household chores with fervor in the hopes a solution would enter her thoughts. Barring the crazy idea of marching up to a stranger and asking him to marry me, I don’t know what more can be done. I am going to lose the mine, the only thing Harris left us…

  She’d suffered more than a little guilt over her feelings involving her late husband, for though she thought about him frequently, it was never with longing to see him once more. Surely a wife should mourn the loss of her husband more than I have for Harris. The boys hadn’t said much about their papa, but she supposed that was because he simply hadn’t been around much before he was killed. Either that, or they were caught up in the wonder of their new life with Uncle Mac, as she was. Eventually, that would wear off, and then perhaps the magnitude of their loss would be felt.

  The roast beef she’d cooked slowly all day smelled heavenly. To her secret delight, Mac complimented her cooking every night but tonight he would undoubtedly savor his supper. In Joan’s experience, a man could never turn down a plate of tender, savory beef.

  Right on time Mac pushed open the door, Jesse following closely behind. “All I’m saying is Juniper might miss giving kids a ride, Uncle Mac, if it’s been a long time.”

  Joan grinned and heard Mac chuckle at Jesse’s attempt at persuasion to ride the pony. As he’d begun to do, Noah crept closer to the hulking man, watching him closely with Jesse. Given time, Joan suspected Noah would fully trust his uncle; he’d already begun.

  “I see you’re walking around better today, Noah. Do you think you’ll be able to run pretty soon?”

  Noah nodded, gazing up at Mac through his hair.

  “It smells wonderful in here. Is that roast beef?”

  “Yes,” she smiled. “I hope you like it.”

  “I love everything to do with you in this kitchen.”

  She turned her back to him to hide the blush coloring her cheeks.

  “Mama baked a pie for dessert, Uncle Mac. She even whipped some cream to serve on top!”

  Mac clutched at his heart. “Pie with cream? Your mama sure knows how to put meat on a body. I’ll have to buy larger trousers at the rate I’m going, and it’s only been a week!”

  Covering his mouth with his hand, Jesse giggled. “Yeah, and your trousers are already pretty big!”

  “Alright boys, have a seat. We don’t want this food to get cold, do we?”

  Soberly, they sat down and Mac offered the prayer. As he chewed his first bite, he moaned, “Mmm. It tastes as delicious as it smells! Better, even!”

  Joan smiled her thanks, rising when there came a knock at the door. “Keep eating, Mac. I’ll answer it.”

  Taking a minute to pat her unruly curly hair and straighten her apron, Joan opened the door… and immediately wished she hadn’t. Pete Tracy stood on the porch, fingering the brim of his hand in his hands.

  “Hello, Mrs. Walley.”

  “Pete.”

  “Do you have a minute? I just wanted to talk to you about the mine.”

  Joan glanced behind her and lowered her voice. “Now isn’t the best time. Can you come back tomorrow morning?”

  “Who is it?” Mac asked, tromping to her side. When he saw Mr. Tracy, his eyebrows pulled down. “Can I help you with something?” Joan could feel Mac’s gaze as he turned his head from Pete to her.

  “The name’s Pete Tracy. I just came by to speak with Mrs. Walley here about the Crescent.”

  “Oh? Is there a problem at the mine?”

  “Well, not at the mine itself, Mr. Walley, but the way our paperwo
rk was drawn up, Mrs. Walley here stands to lose her share of the mine...”

  “Unless I tie up some loose ends,” Joan supplied quickly. “Thank you, Mac. I’ll take care of this.”

  Mac glanced between the two once more, then offered, “Why don’t you come in for supper, Mr. Tracy, and we can discuss it over some pie. I’m sure there will be plenty.”

  Heart hammering, Joan nodded stiffly and stepped aside, trying to think fast. The trouble with Mr. Tracy wasn’t Mac’s problem – at least, she didn’t want it to be. He’d graciously taken on so much already, and she wanted to hold on to this last bit of independence and keep him from worrying about it.

  Think, think. Perhaps I could ask to look over the papers, beg for more time…

  Setting another place for Mr. Tracy, Joan sank back into her own chair and took a bite, oblivious to the conversation until Harris was mentioned.

  “You sure look a lot like your brother, God rest his soul. I feel bad about all this.” The words sounded hollow and Pete wouldn’t make eye contact when saying it.

  “Now why don’t you start at the beginning, Pete. I’m sure we can get it all ironed out.”

  Joan stood so fast her chair toppled over. “Boys, why don’t you take your slingshots and step outside for a moment? I’ll call you when I serve the pie.” When they’d gone, she turned to Mr. Tracy with a frown. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Tracy. I’d like to…”

  “I can’t transfer the partnership to Mrs. Walley unless she marries,” Pete interrupted. “No single woman can claim ownership to the mine, and I’m not in a position to buy Harris’s share.”

  Mac finished chewing his mouthful and set his fork down. “Well, I’m sure given time Joan can find herself a lucky man to wed. You’re welcome to stay here until then, whenever that may be, Joan.” She appreciated the way Mac drew her into the conversation where Mr. Tracy had so rudely pushed her out.

  “But that’s just it. The contract states she has two weeks, and that term ends today.”

  Mac sat silently, puzzling. “Can you put it in Jesse’s name? He’s Harris’s oldest son.”