Copper

by Krystal M. Anderson

  “That’s where you come in, Gill. Joan and I would like to know if Pete’s assertions are true, and if they are, how we can go about selling our share.”

  Dabbing his lips and beard with a white napkin, Mr. Mabry nodded. “I think I can help you folks, but I’d need to see the mine myself. Could we make a trip anytime soon?”

  They worked through the details, making arrangements for the following week.

  ~~~~~

  Joan kissed the top of Noah’s head as they rode in the livery panel wagon, then pulled his hat tightly over his head despite his protests. “I know you don’t like hats, son, but sunburns are much worse, as you’re sure to find out if you don’t wear it.”

  Jesse sat on a sack of gunpowder behind the seat talking with Mac who guided May and her harness-mate, Dolly, down the rutted road that wound alongside Jordan Creek. Mr. Mabry followed on his own feisty chestnut mare. Tall grass bent gently in the breeze which Joan was thankful for on such a warm day. Allowing the fresh air to fill her lungs, Joan tipped her head to the sky, appreciating the vibrant greens of the vegetation and glittering gray stone in contrast to the deep blue.

  Calling to Chunhua, Mac showed her how to hold the ribbons in her small hands. She smiled through his instructions, obediently doing all he asked. She’s a good girl. It’s amazing how quickly she seems to have learned to understand us and she’s attempting more and more words every day. How fortunate I am that someone was foolish enough to let her go. Joan watched the way Mac seemed to delight in the girl, speaking softly to her and praising her when she did it right. As her confidence grew, he let go completely and pulled his harmonica out of his pocket, entertaining them all with a few jaunty tunes.

  Contentment seeped into the weathered bits of Joan’s soul, pieces that hadn’t felt anything in so long that she’d nearly forgotten what it was like to enjoy, to anticipate… to love. A smile spread slowly across her face, an action that was growing increasingly common of late. Did she love Mac? Not as her brother’s relation, but as a woman should love a man – with her whole heart and soul? For the first time since their marriage, she allowed herself to contemplate it, something she looked forward to perusing during their time at the mine.

  The long shadows of the morning grew smaller with the passing hours, and after they’d stopped for a brief rest and some lunch, they took to the trail again. When Noah and Chunhua grew restless, she played games with them, pointing out critters she saw and imagining shapes from the foliage and stone they passed. “We’re nearly there, little ones. Try to be patient.”

  When the quiet of the mountains gave way to the pounding sounds of ore processing, blasts from the mines, and shouts of the men working, Joan pointed to a small, winding trail just south of the Dewey mill that forked west. Mr. Mabry parted from them with a wave, riding to obtain lodging for himself in town.

  Difficult as it was to believe, the little shack she and the boys had shared with Harris was still standing. Embarrassment heated her cheeks when Mac laid eyes on it. He didn’t say anything, but his hands fisted the reins tightly, his rigid shoulders and jaw communicating plenty. She tried to view her old home with new eyes, as though she, too, were seeing it for the first time. It slanted slightly and the tin roof was bent and battered from weather. The only door hung lopsided on its hinges, and a hole had been kicked through the bottom corner, the raw edges of which she’d tried in vain to smooth. It had no floor, but Joan had packed the dirt as firmly as she could. Though Mac couldn’t see it from the outside, their few belongings still remained within, and as soon as Mac helped her from the wagon, Joan moved to the door to begin setting it to rights for their stay.

  “Joan… I’m sorry…” his voice rumbled over her shoulder, “I didn’t know…”

  She touched his arm and forced lightness into her voice. “No sense in apologizing. Now, could you bring a few buckets of water up from the creek? I’ll get a fire started and unpack our things from the wagon.”

  When he turned to obey, she released the breath she’d been holding and gazed without feeling at the space where she used to labor and live. The straw tick was secured with some rope to the ceiling, and the only furniture they could claim was a barrel she’d used for washing, a few crates turned upside down, and a small table with three wooden chairs in various states of repair. Three open shelves held a modest assortment of dishes. No, she didn’t miss her life here. Mac’s home felt like a palace in comparison, and he treated her like the queen.

  After supper, she caught Mac gazing somberly toward the stand of aspen trees and the wooden cross pounded into the firm earth, a handful of dead wildflowers resting at its base. Checking to see the children playing, she stepped to Mac’s side, scrupulously avoiding his gaze. “I thought he’d prefer to be buried here at home rather than Dewey’s cemetery. Maybe I should have sent him to Silver City’s.” She said it openly, inviting a response. He’d been so quiet since they’d arrived, and she wasn’t sure of the reason.

  “You made the right choice, Joan.” Clasping her hand, he led her to Harris’s final resting place and knelt in the dust, pulling her down with him. His eyes were rimmed in red, but dry.

  “Harris was a good brother,” he rasped. “He was always sticking up for me. We had ourselves a hog-killin’ time when we were boys.” A shadow of a smile touched his lips. “It’s a shame he didn’t clean up his life; heaven knows he’d gone through the mill plenty enough to recognize it was time.”

  Joan nodded. “For all he wasn’t, Harris was a good man.”

  “I wish he would have acted like it, for your sake, Joan.” His words were moving and she marveled at the ability he had to see all the hurt places inside her, wounds that no one else had stopped to notice. In return, she could give him the space he needed to work through his own.

  “Take all the time you need,” she whispered, leaving him there alone.

  When the sun sank behind Florida Mountain and the stars crept out one by one, she and the children bedded down on the mattress together, Mac insisting he’d sleep outside. Joan made sure he had plenty of blankets before wishing him a good night.

  The following morning, after a breakfast of beans and bacon, they waited for Mr. Mabry to arrive, then set off for the Crescent. She’d taken the winding path west more times than she could count, though it looked a bit more overgrown than the last time.

  Mr. Mabry was quiet but polite. His spirited mare threw her tale up and pranced along, which provided ample entertainment for Jesse. It only took an hour to reach the rocky base of the mountain where the mine entrance was located. The sign bearing the mine’s name was still there, hammered into the thick timbers at the head of the tunnel where Harris had put it. Staring at it, remembering his excitement and enthusiasm in those early days, brought a pang of loss to Joan’s heart.

  “Did Pete know we were coming?” Joan asked as Mac pulled the horses to a stop.

  “No. I thought we’d surprise him.” He helped Joan, Jesse, Noah, and Chunhua to the ground, tethered the horses, and met Mr. Mabry at the tunnel.

  “So, this is the Crescent,” Gill began. Dropping to one knee, he fingered the dirt beneath him, then picked up a rock the size of his palm. “I think I know why your silver mine isn’t producing as well as you’d hoped,” he announced.

  “But you haven’t even been inside.”

  “These rocks aren’t the rhyolite or granite you see closer to Silver City; this is basalt, and if there is white quartz further down, you won’t likely find much silver or gold.”

  Joan sent a stricken look at Mac. “That’s too bad. I suppose we wasted your time coming out here, Mr. Mabry…”

  “Not at all,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “You see, white quartz is a good indicator your mine contains copper.”

  Twelve

  “I ’m just happy the mine isn’t a complete loss,” Joan confided, astounded that the Crescent contained valuable ore at all. “And now we can go home. Mr. Mabry certainly has a handle on things.”


  Joan had spent nearly the entire day entertaining the children at the mouth of the Crescent, taking them for walks, lazing in patches of long grass that grew near the trees where the ground leveled out, and singing songs or telling stories. They’d even found a patch of wild strawberries with enough bright red fruit for everyone to have a mouthful. It had been both exhausting and endearing. Mac and Mr. Mabry had disappeared into the dark tunnel, oil lamps held aloft, and hadn’t emerged until late afternoon. Curiously, Pete was nowhere to be found.

  “I agree, though we still need someone to manage a crew if Pete isn’t willing to do it.”

  “Do you think Pete was being honest with us?” Joan asked Mac in a small voice. “I mean, Harris hadn’t brought a single dime home for the last year, at least. Maybe Pete was keeping everything.”

  “Could’ve been. It’s possible Harris was squandering everything he was paid without you knowing. Anyway, I don’t think Pete will be a problem from here on. He knows we’re serious about turning a profit from the Crescent… and he knows we’re onto his little plan.”

  Joan nodded, relaxing her shoulders. It was wonderful, having Mac’s clear head on her side.

  “So, can we leave tomorrow?”

  “I don’t see why not. Mr. Mabry might like to stick around another day or two to advertise for a crew, and I’ll have him report when he gets back to Silver City. Does that sound okay to you?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Guilt racked her when, later that evening, Mac stepped out of the shack to bed down in the grass. The poor man never complained, but she knew it still grew cold in the early morning before the sun woke up. He’s my husband, for heaven’s sake, not a complete stranger. Perhaps it’s time…

  She turned the possibility over and over in her mind the entire trip back to Silver City. Unexpectedly, she had an answer to the question she’d asked herself two days ago, the one about the feelings she was having. Somehow in the weeks they’d been husband and wife, Mac had grown nearer and dearer to her heart; somehow that initial brotherly love had budded and blossomed into something much more significant. Could it be love? Genuine, laugh-inducing, time-testing love? The possibility made her smile and her pulse skip-hop. Joan began to view him with new eyes. It was the little things, like the way his large, strong hands touched so softly, or the tone of voice he used when speaking to the children; even the way he quietly considered her needs when unloading the heavier items from the panel wagon. Everything he did held new meaning, and now she was in on the secret: Mac treated her this way because he loved and wanted her, appreciated her in his life, championed her when she needed strength beyond her own.

  How had she been blind enough to hold him at arm’s length, after all he’d done for her? She felt the injustice acutely.

  Starting tonight, things would be different.

  Anticipation welled inside her at the opportunity to show him the intensity of her feelings. It must have shown on her face, for when Mac came into the house after taking care of the animals, he took one look at her and stilled. My, but he is a large man. The top of Joan’s head reached his chest, and he was at least three times as thick through the middle as she. But she knew, despite his great size, that he was tender and gentle.

  Heat rose to her cheeks and the tips of her ears, but she stepped forward and smiled up at him. Three days’ travel did little to diminish his handsome appearance, though his usually shaved face had a layer of whiskers. A thick shock of hair folded over his forehead to his full eyebrows, topping eyes that smoldered with questions.

  She didn’t voice answers to any of them.

  Instead, she placed her palms flat on his chest, rose on her toes, and pressed her lips softly to his. A caress preceded his arms wrapping around her, pulling her against his well-muscled body. He deepened the kiss, coaxing her mouth open wider. Her heart thumped so wildly she was sure he could feel it banging into his abdomen. Sliding her hands up around his neck, she gave back all she received, loving the way her soul awakened to the experience.

  He broke contact first, trailing kisses along her jaw and burying his face in her neck. Breathlessly, she said, “I think it’s time you put that cot in the barn away for good.”

  Mac pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyebrows raised. “Really? You mean… are you sure?”

  “Yes,” she grinned, feeling ten years younger at the girlish laugh that rushed out of her mouth. Grin as wide as the Grand Canyon, Mac lifted her up by the waist and twirled her around.

  “That’s the best news I’ve had all week, Mrs. Walley.”

  A sudden knock at the door took him out of her arms. Her heart fell to her toes at the sight of Sheriff Dalton, a lit quirley rolled between his lips.

  “Grisham Gang is on the move, Walley. They’re headed to the City of Rocks, and if we hurry, we can head them off before they get there. Can you ride with us?”

  Mac looked regretfully from the sheriff to Joan and back again. “Now?”

  Swinging back into his saddle, the sheriff didn’t bother answering. “Meet in front of my office in ten minutes.”

  “Make it twenty - I need to speak with Michael.”

  Of all the rotten timing. “The Grisham Gang? As in Ike Grisham?”

  Mac nodded grimly. “I’ll be gone a week at the very least; probably two.”

  “Mac, please…” she caught his arm as he passed, hoping he’d understand. She hadn’t opened her heart to the possibility of love just to have it snatched cruelly from her now. “Come home.”

  Gripping both her shoulders, he crushed his lips to hers. “Tell the little ones good-bye for me.”

  ~~~~~

  Red nickered when they approached the other horses gathered in front of the Silver City jail and courthouse. Sheriff Dalton, Deputy Chalice, and Hal were huddled on the boardwalk.

  “Why City of Rocks?” Hal asked.

  Sheriff Dalton took a deep puff from his quirley, releasing gray tendrils of smoke from his nostrils and mouth.

  “Do you remember that Gilmer and Salisbury coach that got robbed several years ago near Rock Creek?”

  Mac spoke up, knowing Hal hadn’t been around when it had happened. “The one with the gold bars?”

  “That’s it. The fellow who stole it, Marcos Blanco, he got caught – spent time in the territorial prison near Fort Boise. Marcos wasn’t out three days before Ike Grisham was on his tail like a coyote hunting a fat, juicy rabbit.”

  Deputy Chalice took up the narrative. “Marcos was reported missing yesterday.”

  “And you think the Grisham Gang took him?”

  “I know they have,” interjected the sheriff, his dark, perceptive eyes narrowed above a black mustache peppered with gray. “Marcos was caught, but he cached that loot somewhere in the City of Rocks where it was never found. A payout like that is too grand for Ike Grisham to pass up, and he can be real persuasive.”

  “How much are we talking?”

  “We don’t know for sure, but Wells Fargo & Co. offered a five-hundred and fifty-dollar reward to anyone who will speak to its location.”

  Five-hundred and fifty dollars! It was well-known that Wells Fargo paid two-hundred and fifty dollars plus one quarter of the loot as reward money when robbed valuables were recovered. Those gold bars must have been worth at least twelve-hundred dollars. No wonder it had attracted Ike Grisham and his greedy companions, including Crooked Montgomery.

  To no one, Mac whispered, “It had to be the City of Rocks.”

  He’d never seen them himself, but everyone who paid attention to the newspapers knew that it was undeniably one of the best locations to hide something. Also called the Silent City, the City of Rocks was a landmark easily distinguished by travelers of the Oregon Trail due to its jutting, steeple-like boulders dropped sporadically over the rolling hills. He’d bet his horse there was enough treasure hidden in the City of Rocks to fund an entire nation.

  “It’s not going to be an easy ride, boys,” the sheriff admitted. “They�
��ve got at least a half-day’s lead on us, and these aren’t first-time criminals. They’ll run like hell to avoid being caught.”

  “Anything else?” Hal asked dryly.

  Mac didn’t like the way the sheriff and deputy exchanged grim looks. “With the addition of Marcos Blanco, they’ve got five men.”

  Mac’s shoulder’s fell. The Grisham Gang was motivated, dangerously fast… and outnumbered the posse. Thank heavens their amigo Jeb Hinderman had been dispatched a couple of months ago while chasing after Virginia Baycroft, or they’d have another ruthless criminal added to their number. “If they’re going for the gold, they’ll need a way to transport it; those bars weigh one hundred pounds each. A wagon or stagecoach, maybe.”

  Dalton shrugged. “Don’t know. They might pack a bar on each horse once they find it with the intent to come back for the rest.”

  “I don’t like this. They’ve got the bulge on us, Dalton. Can we pick up a special agent from Wells Fargo & Co. to help?”

  “I’ve already sent a telegram, but I’m not going to wait around for a reply. I figure their nearest man would probably be coming up from Corinne.”

  “Utah territory? That’s what, one hundred miles south of City Rocks?”

  “They might have someone there in time, but it’s very likely we’re doing this alone, boys. You can back out now…”

  Dalton looked each man in the eye, nodding his approval when everyone stared unflinchingly back. “I’m officially deputizing you two, Horner and Walley. Let’s pony up!”

  It wasn’t the first time Mac had been deputized by the sheriff, but it was the first time he glanced longingly at his home as the posse rode out to face the most dangerous band of criminals this side of the territory had ever seen.

  Thirteen

  J oan looked longingly out the sitting room window, wishing the days and nights without Mac would hurry up and finish. It had only been three days since he’d ridden off, but it felt like weeks. He was so good for the children. The men in Jesse’s and Noah’s short lives had not been dependable, and judging by Chunhua’s circumstances, Joan would guess it was the same for her. Mac was constant, kind, patient; all attributes severely lacking in his elder brother. I need to stop comparing them, Joan berated herself, they are different men; have made decisions throughout their lives that have led them down separate paths.