Copper

by Krystal M. Anderson

  “I’m afraid not. It’s got to be an adult.”

  “How much would it take to buy Harris’s share?”

  “Well, I figure the Crescent’s worth at least ten thousand dollars. We split everything half and half, see, so five thousand would get you that share.”

  Again, Mac considered. Joan, figuring she’d better stop this before it got any further, said, “It’s alright, Mac, we’ll just have to… give it up.”

  “But you and Harris put everything you had into that hole in the ground. It doesn’t sit well, not when you’ve sacrificed so much. Can you give me another week to come up with the money, Pete?”

  Mr. Tracy licked his lips, spreading his hands palm-up. “I apologize to you both, I really do, but there’s nothing I can do. If you aren’t getting married by midnight tonight, Mrs. Walley, I’m afraid the Crescent reverts to me.”

  “I’d like to see those papers, please,” Mac ordered, clutching them between his thumb and first two fingers when Pete reluctantly handed them over.

  While he looked them over, Joan stepped out onto the porch to watch the boys, closing her eyes against the tears that were threatening to fall. After a few minutes, Mr. Tracy tromped from the house, muttering under his breath. What did he have to be upset about? After tonight, he’d own the Crescent in full!

  “Joan,” Mac rumbled behind her. “Come inside – we need to talk.” With trembling lips, she nodded.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  “I didn’t want you to worry. You’ve done so much for the boys and me, more than we’ve a right to receive. I wanted to bear this on my own.”

  “If we’d have had more time, I would’ve liked to take the contract to Hal Horner, a friend who is an attorney here in town, but… the contract seems sound, Joan. Harris’s signature is there and everything.” Mac’s confirmation stung, and Joan felt anew the familiar pain of Harris’s shortcomings. He hadn’t looked after them in life, and he certainly wasn’t doing so now. Why had she expected anything different?

  “Is the mine important to you?”

  She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

  “I know you’re disappointed, Joan, I can see it in your eyes.” Gently, he tilted her face to look him square in the eye, or as square as she possibly could, being only as tall as his chest.

  “Are you happy here? Are the boys?”

  “Oh, yes,” she hastened, not wanting to seem ungrateful. “Happier than ever, I suppose. You’ve been nothing but kind.”

  He searched her eyes, looking back and forth into each one. It made her feel exposed, but at the same time, she could feel his support. His strength and compassion for her was something that had been lacking in her life for so long, she’d nearly forgotten what it felt like.

  “Let’s get married tonight, Joan. You’re already living in my home – why not make it official.”

  She gasped, marveling that he could be so generous. “No, Mac, you don’t have to do this. It’s just… a hole in the ground, like you said. You’re not obligated to do this for my sake, or even Harris’s. His failures are not your responsibility. Besides, I don’t even know if the mine is worth saving.”

  “Do you find the thought of being my wife so repulsive?”

  “That’s not it at all…”

  “Then let’s save the mine, get married tonight, and work out the details tomorrow. There will be plenty of time.”

  How could he say it so calmly? This giant of a man possessed an even larger heart – maybe he’d gotten his brother’s share. Wringing her apron this way and that, Joan turned to the sink. She knew what was right… and what she must do.

  “Mac. I still must decline. You mustn’t marry me out of pity. I’ve had my fair share of disappointing marriages, and I’ll not rush into another or subject you to the same.”

  He moved right behind her, his breath brushing across her cheek. “And if I admired your strength, resilience, and beauty? What then?”

  Her breath hitched in her throat at his nearness. Was he serious? This selfless, hard-working man admired her, or was he just trying to make the decision easier for her to accept? Joan closed her eyes and thought over everything she knew about Mac Walley, brother to her late husband. Harris’s temper had been so easy to ignite - surely his brother couldn’t be so different. Yet she knew he must be, for in the short time she’d been there, he’d never once raised his voice. In fact, she expected him to rage at her or one of the children every night, but it never happened. He was patient and attentive to the boys and equally so with her. In town, he was friendly and respectful of what everyone had to say, regardless of their occupation or age. Despite his great size, he was gentle with the animals in his care at the livery. She had an answer to her own question, for she knew that above all, Mac was honest. If he wasn’t serious about his desire to wed, he’d not have said so.

  Wiping her moist palms on her apron, Joan gulped and turned around slowly. The soft glint to his eyes nearly made her weak in the knees. “Are you sure this is what you want? I don’t have much to offer you, Mac.”

  One of his large, warm hands gently clasped her own. “Nonsense. You can offer the single most important thing in life, something I have been missing long enough: a family. From the first day you arrived to fill my empty home, I realized I wanted to keep all three of you.”

  This made her cheeks and the tips of her ears heat. He was so open with his feelings – a trait she wasn’t sure her practical soul could reciprocate. She trusted him… but she didn’t trust him with her heart, and that was not fair to him at all. “I don’t know if I can be a good wife to you…”

  For the first time, a shadow crossed his eyes. “Oh. I know Harris hasn’t been gone for long, Joan. But we don’t have the luxury of time, thanks to him. If we did, I’d court you right proper.” He glanced away toward the stove, his gaze unfocused. “Listen. I don’t expect you to, well, to love me, Joan. I know you’ve been through a lot, and it’s going to take time to let go of all the hurt. But, if nothing else, we can help one another along. I won’t force you to, ah… do anything you don’t want to do.”

  If her cheeks weren’t red before, they certainly were now. She wouldn’t get a better offer; she’d be a fool to turn him down.

  “Yes.”

  His face jerked back to her. “Yes?”

  “Yes, I’ll marry you, Mac.”

  A smile spread slowly across his face. “You won’t even have to change your last name.”

  ~~~~~

  Three hours later, Joan was lingering in the boys’ room, mentally chastising herself. What did I get myself into? I married my brother-in-law, that’s what! Harris is probably rolling over in his grave. And now I have to go into my bedroom – his bedroom – and lay beside him like it’s no big thing.

  “Mama?” Noah asked, his small hand wrapping around two of her fingers. Jesse was already asleep, his heavy breathing steady on the other side of the small bed.

  “Hmm?”

  “Does this mean Uncle Mac is my pa now?”

  “I suppose so, Noah. But you don’t have to call him ‘pa’ if you’re not ready.”

  Noah yawned. “Okay, mama.”

  Joan pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Good night, my sweet.”

  “Good night.”

  Quietly she tiptoed to the sitting room and sank onto the sofa, resting her head on the arm rest. It was the piece of furniture she loved most in the house. Curved mahogany legs supported cushions upholstered in dark blue fabric that was worn but clean. It was odd that Mac even owned this piece – he was likely too large to sit on it himself. But then he had his sturdy chair and foot rest which she and the children left alone.

  The wedding ceremony had been quick. A surprised Pastor Buford ushered them inside St. Andrew’s church with the two excited boys in tow, accepting Mac’s request with wide eyes. Mac, steady as always, hadn’t even blinked when saying his vows. She’d rushed through her own, anxious to get the thing done and
over before she changed her mind. Pronounced man and wife, Mac pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, lingering only a moment. She’d closed her eyes, wondering if the feeling it gave was one she wished to explore.

  All done, Mac saw her and the boys home before hurrying off to speak with Pete. Joan shook her head, marveling. She woke up that morning as widow to the late Harris Walley, and now she’d retire as the new Mrs. Mackenzie Walley, a widow no more.

  Five

  T he Chinese laundresses worked so hard Joan felt bad leaving the bundle of clothing and linens with them to wash, but Mac had insisted: ‘It’s an awful lot of work, cleaning and cooking for four people. If there’s one thing you could feel good about hiring out, it’s the laundry.’

  “Thank you very much, Missus Wall-E. We have for you tomorrow.” The young Chinese woman was covered in sweat and the fine hair around her forehead clung to her skin. She accepted the bundle with lye-reddened hands and took it to a room in the back.

  Taking Jesse’s hand in one hand and Noah’s in the other, Joan turned them down the dirty street toward home. “Mama,” Jesse interrupted. “Will I have to go to school when the schoolhouse is finished?”

  “Yes, son, and what a lucky boy you are. School learning is a privilege many children have no claim to.”

  “I think I’d like to help Mac at the livery instead.”

  “I know, but it’s important for children to learn in school. That way when you grow to be a man, you can make smarter decisions for you and your family. I wonder when it will be finished?”

  “Excuse me,” a young woman called from behind. Her elbow was looped through a fellow’s arm, guiding him along because of the cloth he had tied around his eyes. Despite his inability to see, he wore a wide, lopsided smile.

  “Mama, why is he covering his eyes?” Noah asked innocently.

  Embarrassed, Joan opened her mouth to apologize, but the man chuckled good-naturedly. “Looks sort of silly, doesn’t it? I was in a mining accident that hurt my eyes, but they’re getting better. Pretty soon I won’t need to wear this cloth at all! Would you like a turn with it when I’m through?”

  Noah shook his head, but obviously the blind fellow couldn’t see the gesture.

  “Oh Charlie,” the woman laughed, swatting his arm. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation about the school.” To Jesse, she said, “You look like a very smart boy. I’m sure the teacher would love having you in the school room.”

  Joan gave Jesse a nudge. “Thank you,” he said, still unsure.

  “I’m Virginia Baycroft and this is my fiancé Charlie Montgomery. Are you new to town?”

  The young woman was lovely, with silky blonde locks and full, smiling lips. “Yes. My name is Joan Walley and these are my sons, Jesse and Noah.”

  “Welcome. You must be related to Mac at the livery, yes?”

  “We are. It seems everyone around here knows him.”

  Mr. Montgomery chuckled, the sound full of mirth. “Can’t help but be friendly with a man like Mac. Besides, he’s probably bought and sold animals to most of the folks here in Silver City. I myself purchased a gorgeous horse from him last year that he saddle broke, and she’s been invaluable.”

  It warmed Joan’s heart to hear him spoken of that way and, secretly, she wholeheartedly agreed. But he was her brother-in-law, and because of that she was unsure if more romantic feelings would ever develop between them.

  Noah surprised her by explaining, “Uncle Mac is our new pa.”

  “Is that right? Well, you are very lucky boys.” Virginia smiled down at them. “The school will be opening in August, so you have only three months more to wait.” To Joan, she said, “If you need anything, you only need ask. Nice to have met you all.”

  “You, too,” Joan muttered.

  When they reached Jordan Creek, they hopped across the rocks to the other side, where a rustle in the brush along the creek made Joan pause.

  “What is it, mama?” Jesse asked.

  “Sshh,” she instructed, stepping closer. Was it a dog? Something was in those reeds… no, a someone, for there was a child’s limb and two dark eyes staring at her.

  She pulled a cloth-wrapped biscuit from the pocket of her dress and offered it to the small, crouching figure. “Come on out,” Joan called, kneeling. “I won’t hurt you.”

  A little head with black hair and filthy round cheeks rose from the grass. “That’s it. Don’t worry.” Slowly, the child stepped from her hiding spot, eyeing the trio warily. A dirty garment hung from the child’s shoulders, torn and ragged. No one appeared to be watching for her; how long had the poor thing been fending for herself?

  “You sure are pretty. I’m Joan. What’s your name?”

  Those wide, liquid eyes just stared. She looked to be five, maybe six years old, though not as tall as Jesse. Her pink lips were pressed together, then she smiled at the boys. Maybe she doesn’t speak English. I wonder where her family has gone?

  Pressing a hand to her chest then on to each of the boys, she said more slowly, “Joan. Jesse. Noah.”

  “Are you hungry?” Pretending to put bits of food into her mouth, Joan attempted to communicate with the Chinese girl who watched Joan’s fingers carefully. Again, Joan extended the biscuit, which was then accepted eagerly.

  “Come – let’s get you something more to eat.” Hoping her wide smile would put the slip of a girl at ease, she reached for her hand and led her up the hill to the growing home on Morning Star, praying that Mac would not be angry with her for adding another mouth to feed.

  ~~~~~

  Chunhua was her name. Joan fed and bathed her and the sweet, soft girl made no fuss at all. She seemed to understand that she’d been brought to a safe place where she would be cared for and enjoyed watching Jesse play with Noah. Having no clothing for a little girl, Joan pulled from the linen chest a pillowcase and cut three holes: one for her head and one on each side for her arms, determined to return to Myrtle’s the next day for a premade dress. Fussing over a girl felt different; special. She and the boys walked around the house pointing out items and saying each name clearly and slowly for Chunhua, who listened quietly. Before long, Joan rushed into the kitchen to put supper together, not realizing how much of the day had gotten away from her.

  When Mac came home skillfully whistling a tune, Chunhua cowered behind Joan’s skirts, peeking out at him suspiciously. He didn’t notice her at first, kneeling to wrap each boy into a hug, but Jesse filled him in, as usual.

  “We’ve a new girl, Uncle Mac!”

  “A new girl?”

  “Lookie, behind mama!”

  Still on one knee, Mac’s smile widened. “Well who do we have here, hmm?”

  Chunhua pressed herself more closely into the back of Joan’s legs. “We found her alone by the creek today and brought her home with us for something to eat,” Joan explained anxiously, willing her new husband to understand. “Isn’t she beautiful? Her name is Chunhua.”

  “Very. Hello, Chunhua.”

  Pointing to him, Joan turned to the girl and said, “Mac.”

  The only thing the child had said since they’d brought her home was her name, so Joan was surprised when she repeated softly, “Mac.”

  “That’s right.”

  “What are we going to do with her?”

  It was something Joan had worked over already. “Is there an orphanage in town?”

  “No. Maybe in Bruneau or Boise.”

  It was as she suspected. “I’d like to ask around at the Chinese laundry tomorrow and see if they recognize her. If not, perhaps they can talk with her and get some answers.”

  “Good idea.”

  After supper, Joan put the children to bed, the boys in their bedroom and Chunhua on the sofa in the sitting room.

  Butterflies flitted in her stomach. It was the time of day where she was most unsettled, for she was unsure how to fill her new role as Mac’s wife. She’d fretted for nothing the night before; Mac never came home. He must have slept at
the livery as he’d been doing before the wedding. Joan bit her lip, insecurities flooding her. She didn’t feel ready for the intimacy marriage brought, and yet, part of her felt humiliated that Mac had left her alone. Did he not find her desirable? Removing her apron and pulling the single ribbon she owned from her hair, she stopped short when a musical sound floated into the house through one of the open windows. The reedy harmonica notes rose high and dropped low, the melody slow and soft. Joan placed a hand to her chest and closed her eyes, cherishing the gift of his music. It had been such a long time since she’d heard something so beautiful. When the song ended, her feet moved her toward the front porch of their own accord to find Mac hunched on the top porch step, his bent legs wide on the step below. Not knowing what to say or do, she stood there awkwardly.

  In that way he had, Mac melted her tension with his easy smile and soft gaze. “Joan.”

  No one, not even Harris, had ever made goosebumps skitter up her arms the way he did just now. Confusion filled her, for she couldn’t determine how a woman in her situation should feel – loyal to her first husband? Though her marriage to Harris had been filled with challenges and sorrow, to let go of him so easily felt wrong, like a betrayal. He’d given her two precious boys, after all, and he’d been sleeping in her bed not three weeks ago. But Mac had been so kind to her and her children, she didn’t have the strength to be anything but respectful in return.

  “I haven’t woken the children, have I?”

  “No. It’s beautiful, the way you play.”

  Mac grinned again, turning the harmonica over in the palm of his hand.

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you play for others very often?”

  “Sometimes, at the Masonic Hall.” The early evening light accented his profile and Joan hungrily took in the sight of his strong nose, thick hair falling over his forehead, and full lips. When her gaze strayed lower to the dark, curly chest hair peeking out from his unbuttoned shirt collar, she jerked away before he caught her looking.

  “Joan,” Mac began, the deep bass of his voice smooth as glass, “we haven’t had much chance to talk about… last night. I meant what I said about not forcing you into anything you’re uncomfortable with. I thought it best I continue to sleep in the livery until you’re ready.”