Copper

by Krystal M. Anderson

  “Close one, Walley,” Hal murmured. “Impeccable timing, too. That wouldn’t have worked without the sheriff’s interference.”

  “A shame he killed a few,” Mac acknowledged, “and what a month for you, Hal, captured twice by the enemy. What you need is a nice, quiet year at home with your wife.”

  With a smile, Hal said, “So do you.”

  My wife. A grin spread slowly across Mac’s face in delicious anticipation of their reunion.

  Eighteen

  I t was a mystery to Joan how easily she was able to fall asleep that night after all that had happened, but her spirit needed the rest, even more than her body, so she was grateful. Even so, when Juniper’s whinny and the thudding sound of hooves plodding along the road wafted through her open bedroom window, she sat up quickly and padded to the glass.

  Joy pressed from the inside out at the vague outline of Mac’s unmistakably flashy Paint lumbering to the hitching post at the livery, along with profound relief that he’d returned at last. She hastily lit a lamp, not bothering to slip into her boots before dashing onto the porch and across the street to the man who held her heart.

  His boots had barely touched the ground before she flung herself into his strong arms. It was only when he grunted that she remembered he’d been shot. “Oh, Mac,” she wailed, “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I’m just so happy you’re back.”

  He cupped her cheek with his hand, the adoring smile he wore just for her reaching all the way to his weary eyes. “So am I.”

  The parade of horses followed next, interrupting the kiss she felt certain they’d have shared. Phillip Tanzin and Hal each held a line, and when they dismounted, they led their strings into the one-burro corral while Mac handled the gate. She puzzled over how Mac had found his own stolen horses but saved her questions for the morning when the sunlight could confirm she wasn’t conjuring the happy sight in her dreams.

  Joan yawned and peeked up at the cloudy night sky. The air smelled damp, a sure indicator a summer rain was approaching. She welcomed it, daring the heavens to hurl anything at them so long as Mac was back home, safe. It had to have been two in the morning, and the men moved slow and heavy with fatigue. I wish I knew how to help unsaddle the horses. I’ll ask Mac tomorrow to teach me how so I can help him – and Jesse, too – at the livery when needed.

  The horses were cared for quickly, and after saying good-night and a final thank-you to the others, Mac clasped Joan’s hand and led her back to their home. Once inside where the lamplight had fewer shadows to contend with, the extreme exhaustion of her poor husband was almost alarming, yet he was wonderfully handsome, his familiar features altered somewhat by the whiskers covering his face and dust pressed into the creases of his eyes and nose. His hardy, powerful form filled the space, making it feel smaller.

  You’ll have time enough to stare at him tomorrow, she chided herself.

  He sank into his favorite chair and she knelt at his feet, pulling at the laces of his boots. His weak protests were quickly overruled when she guided him to her bedroom – their bedroom – and removed his leather slicker and soiled linen shirtwaist, wanting to get a look at the bullet wound. It was obvious he hadn’t had the luxury of a bath in weeks, but the scent didn’t put her off, adding instead to the masculinity that made him so appealing. He was all man, deliciously tall and broad.

  He’d wrapped torn clothing around his waist, the dried blood showing her exactly where the injury was. Knowing she’d get lost in his gaze if she met it now, she kept her eyes on the firm muscles of his stomach and pressed his hair-covered chest gently until he was lying flat on the mattress, gulping at the feel of him beneath her skin. Delicately, she fingered the crusted blood around the opening, pleased that the rosy, swollen skin wasn’t festering. For the rest of the night, it would keep.

  “You get some rest,” she whispered, not that she needed to; his eyes were already struggling to stay open. “In the morning I’ll draw a bath and we’ll clean this up properly.”

  “Joan,” he breathed, lighting a fire deep within her belly she thought had turned to ice long ago. Leaning over him, she kissed his forehead lightly. “Good night, Mac.”

  ~~~~~

  The late-morning sunlight filtered around the edges of the drawn curtains, and in that place between sleep and slumber, Mac couldn’t remember how he’d gotten to his own room and the bed he hadn’t slept in for months. It felt wonderful, the mattress softer than anything he’d rested on since leaving it behind, and it had only improved with a sweet, feminine scent that hadn’t been there before.

  It was when he heard the happy sound of children’s voices on the other side of the closed door that the memories rushed into his head all at once, bringing a smile to his travel-dusty face. He’d come home, to his family, and he couldn’t lie in this bed a second longer for wanting to hold them all in his arms. He sat up, but unfortunately, the pain shooting through his abdomen brought its own less pleasant memories. Wincing, he swung his legs to the side of the bed and stood, looking for a shirt to pull on. Before he had any luck, however, the door opened, and there she was – his beautiful Joan.

  Brown curls around her face had already escaped from the loose twist she’d pinned her hair into and her cheeks were flushed from activity. Dark circles underlined her eyes, and she looked as though she’d been stretched thin. He’d be sure she got some rest as soon as he’d eaten. It was instinct, the way he flexed his chest muscles as her gaze snagged there, then slowly rose to his collarbones, neck, and face.

  “You’re up,” she breathed, “Good. Your bath is half ready, and…”

  “Uncle Mac!” Jesse burst in, running headlong into Mac’s legs. “Oh, Uncle Mac, you’re home!”

  Chuckling, he dropped to his knee and hugged the boy properly. “Yes Jesse, and I don’t want to leave anytime soon. Tell me, did you behave yourself while I was away?”

  “Yes, sir, and I took real good care of Juniper.”

  “Good boy. Hello, Noah.”

  Mac raised his hand to ruffle the toddler’s hair, but Noah came for a hug, instead. “I missed you, papa,” he mumbled, his tiny arms wrapping around Mac’s neck. Swallowing a lump of emotion, Mac held him close. “I missed you, too, son.”

  Joan had a palm pressed to her chest with a smile, her eyes brimming with moisture, but that tenuous smile faltered when Mac asked, “Where’s my pretty Chunhua?”

  The joyous mood instantly deflated, and the boys looked up at their mama.

  “She left, Mac. Her father came to collect her, said he’d been searching for weeks. But they’re still here in Silver City; perhaps we could visit them today.”

  “Is that right?” His heart hurt to think he’d not see his flower in their home any longer, but seeing Joan’s quavering lips caused it to plummet even more. Unable to bear it, he pulled her into his arms and pressed her to him, hoping she could feel his support and willingness to share the despair she’d valiantly shouldered alone.

  On her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder. Hot tears trickled onto his skin, and he tightened his grip. “I’m sorry, Joan. I loved her, same as you. I’m sorry you had to do this without me.”

  It was admirable, the way she collected herself and put on a brave smile, but he had the feeling she was nowhere near finished releasing the grief over giving up their daughter.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she commanded, pulling away from his embrace and wiping her cheeks with the heel of her hand. “I’d like to take a good look at that bullet hole once you’ve bathed. Are you hungry?”

  “Starved,” he confessed.

  “I’ll have a late breakfast ready for you as soon as you’re through. Oh, and you don’t need to worry about the livery,” she added just as he opened his mouth to ask. “I already took care of the morning chores. Michael will be along soon enough to take over so you can have the whole day to rest.”

  She turned her back to him and hefted another pot of water to heat o
n the stove. He clutched her arm and spun her to face him, gathering her in his arms once more. He yearned to be close to her, wanted to touch her. “Joan,” he began, caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers, pleased that she didn’t turn away, “I missed you very much. Thank you for taking such good care of everyone – even the livery – while I was gone. A man couldn’t ask for a woman as steadfast and dependable as you are.” Her eyes softened, and she nodded. “But as soon as I’m finished bathing, it’s your turn to rest. Please,” he entreated, “let me have a turn to take care of you. I can see you’ve run yourself ragged. Me and the boys will spend the afternoon at the livery while you rest – that means no sewing, cleaning, or cooking.”

  She licked her soft, delicious lips. “But you’re injured, Mac. I’ll be fine, I’ll just…”

  “No, you won’t. I’m firm in this, Joan. Please.”

  Her chest heaved and it was plain she was not pleased, but she nodded. “Very well, but only for today. Heaven knows you need to regain your strength, Mac, and it won’t happen if you don’t sit down and heal.”

  “I know. Thank you.”

  Rather than looking appreciative, the crease between her brows deepened. “Mac… there’s something I must tell you.” The way she worried the edges of her apron reminded him of the day she and the boys had turned up at his door when she’d done the same thing to her shawl.

  “What is it?”

  Joan took a deep breath, her voice quivering when she said, “I’ve discovered that our marriage was not necessary to secure the mine after all. I’d … I’d understand if you want an annulment.”

  He tightened his embrace. “Is that what you want?”

  He could see in her eyes that she was unsure, but admired her courage when she said, “No.”

  Her lovely brown eyes watched the smile spread across his face, and he needed no further invitation. Bending to her, Mac brushed his lips across hers, a request for permission to kiss her much more thoroughly. She gave it, kissing him back and thrilling him with an eagerness of her own. They stood there in the kitchen, assuring one another of their affection, dismissing all doubt until the water on the stove bubbled over, hissing when it made contact with the iron.

  He groaned when she pulled away, her full red lips like juicy mountain strawberries and every bit as sweet. “My heart is yours, Joan. Will you do me the great honor of continuing to be my wife?”

  Her full smile, finally turned loose, was radiant and caused the breath to hitch in his chest. “Gladly.”

  “Then let’s put all this useless talk of copper mines, outlaws, and Indians behind us – I’d rather do something else.” And he gathered her close and kissed her full of promises he fully intended to keep.

  Author’s Note

  Thank you, dear reader, for taking this journey with Joan, Mac, and the others. I hope you enjoyed it! First of all, Silver City is a ghost town in the Owyhee mountains of Idaho that I was privileged to visit in 2017. There are over 75 buildings still standing, and walking those dirt streets helped me to imagine all the wondrous things that could have happened there when 2500 people made the mountain mining town their home. I even stayed in the historic Idaho Hotel, much of which is in the same condition as it was over 150 years ago. Even the wallpaper is original! The rock and dirt actually glittered, and the beauty of Florida Mountain kept drawing my gaze. It was a beautiful little slice of the state that I look forward to visiting again one day.

  The erection of the Silver City schoolhouse actually took place in 1892 rather than the year I stated in this story, but it still stands and is used by the Owyhee Cattle Association today. St. Andrews, the Masonic Hall, and the Chinese Laundry really existed, as well as many of the mines mentioned in this book.

  Now for the people. Several of the individuals mentioned in Copper actually lived in or near Silver City those many years ago.

  Loke Kee was a Chinese miner in Idaho City, one of Idaho’s most prominent bonanzas in the Boise Basin. He built a successful mining operation and later general store, then returned to China with his family a wealthy man. Chinese immigrants flooded the territory as early as the 1860’s, many of them buying abandoned claims and turning them profitable again. There was a Chinese district in Silver City and as much as 21% of the population was Chinese, most of whom were miners or merchants. By 1870, in fact, over 28% of Idaho’s population was Chinese. Unlike urban cities, Chinese children in some of the territories were not prohibited from attending school.

  William Dewey was a prominent figure in Idaho. He had a knack for finding veins and was known for crawling on his hands and knees around the mountain until he found the exact spot he wanted to dig. His method, bizarre as it sounds, worked, and after leaving the Owyhees, he opened a well-known hotel in Nampa, Idaho.

  Mr. W. Hill was one of the editors of the Owyhee Avalanche and participated in an Indian raid in the early 1860’s, during which he was injured. When he reported on altercations with the Paiute or Bannock, he referred to them as ‘bucks’ and ‘Indians’, and in one newspaper, stated there had been so many recent Indian disturbances he could not report on them all. In July of 1866, it was estimated losses of property and money in Owyhee county to Indians amounted to $200,000, which was a hefty sum in those days.

  On to the Nez Perce horse, known for its unique spots and unfailing endurance and dependability. The tribe was meticulous in the breeding of their horses, and after the horses carried the Nez Perce in their flight with Chief Joseph in the late 1870’s, the breed was threatened with extinction before it was found and revived. They were mixed with an ancient breed called Akhal-Teke, and the result was the modern-day Appaloosa.

  I thank you again for your interest in my work and hope it proved entertaining. If you liked it, I’d love to hear from you. Happy reading to you!

  More books by Krystal M. Anderson:

  Heart of a Miner Series

  Silver

  Clara Early loves adventure. But when her outlaw uncle reappears after four years’ absence and threatens to kill her, Clara embarks by stagecoach on her wildest adventure yet… and unexpectedly finds love along the way.

  Seeking fortune to prove his worth, Hal Horner buys a silver mine in the Owyhee Mountains, feeling the solemn darkness of the underground mine reflects perfectly the emptiness in his own heart. He succeeds in finding treasure, though it’s not the shiny type he intended.

  Both Hal and Clara know her nefarious uncle will find her eventually, but can their love stand strong when he does?

  "The story makes for a good comfort read as it combines mystery, adventure, romance, and history all in one story. Evil has a means of finding its victim. But so does love."

  Emily-Jane Hills Orford for Readers' Favorite

  Gold

  Seeking a fresh start outside of his outlaw father’s shadow, Charlie Montgomery finds Silver City, Idaho Territory to be the perfect boom town for his adventurous soul. But when gold is discovered at the Crown Point silver mine where he is hired on, the gunslingers of his past reappear, putting Charlie and everything he holds dear in danger.

  She could never marry a miner, Virginia was sure, not after her father was killed in a mining accident last year. Yet something about Charlie draws her like a bee to honey, and despite pressure from another suitor, she takes a chance on him. With her father's debts to pay, Virginia desperately engages in an unsavory one-time deal, realizing she can't outrun the consequences forever. Can Charlie be the steadfast companion and helpmeet whom she so desperately seeks?

  A sweet historical romance with a punch of western adventure!

  “Lots of drama and surprises fill the pages…. This is a solid book readers are sure to enjoy.”

  -Emerson Matthews, InD’Tale Magazine

  The Stage Driver’s Daughter

  It hurt, losing her pa like she did. That’s why Winnifred Morgan traded her dresses and bonnets for trousers and boots to drive a stage coach, just like he did. Beating the boys in a race for a positio
n as Nevada’s newest stage driver wasn’t difficult for a skilled driver like Winnie, and facing highwaymen trying to steal the express box full of treasure didn’t intimidate her, either. Teaming up with Wells Fargo shotgun guard Benjamin Sharpe, Winnie must rein in the unfamiliar yearnings of her own heart.

  But trouble is waiting in the wings, for her pa carried a secret to his grave… and now those who seek it are coming after Winnie!

  The Stage Driver’s Daughter combines the adventure and danger of a true western with the sort of romance that can withstand it.

  "Well-written; this author knows her craft. Readers of Western fiction will delight in the unusual plot about stagecoaches and their drivers, a too-little-explored topic in Western fiction. I think that even people who do not ordinarily read Western fiction will get a thrill out of reading this novel. Krystal M. Anderson has set a new and very high standard to match in Western fiction writing, and anyone who enjoys reading novels should pick this one up and read it."

  -Paul F. Murray for Readers' Favorite

  Keepers of the Light multi-author series:

  The Keeper’s Sacrifice (Prequel to the Keepers of the Light series)

  There was no better way to put it: Max Tucker was running away. The newly-constructed Puffin Point Lighthouse on the forested shores of Oregon seemed like the perfect place to nurse his broken heart, with its sweeping views of rock and wave and near-isolation from society.

  Until he visits Spruce Hill, that is. The little lumber town’s locals seem to be welcoming and kind, embracing Chauntis Bay’s newest keeper of the light and making it easier to move forward with a new life. But when a violent winter storm threatens the integrity of the lighthouse and a foundered ship washes up to shore, Max is bewildered to find a single, unbelievable survivor…

  A sweet historical romance novella full of small-town charm and hair-raising adventure! Prequel to the Keepers of the Light multi-author series.