by Amy Lillard
“Are you going to get cup when you get to Sacramento?”
“Second thing.” She smiled, actually smiled, but the fire was dancing shadows across her face and the sight was almost hidden from him.
He knew one thing. He was right: she was pretty when she smiled. “What’s the first thing?”
She plucked at her men’s garb. “A bath. And a dress. So maybe third thing.”
“Sounds good.” Cora Mae Hawkins in a dress. He had only known her a couple of days, but that was a sight he would love to behold.
“You have any plans?” she softly asked.
“Not really. Get a job so I can pay my way home, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Not sure what I’m going to do.” What was left? His brother was dead, buried up in the California mountains. Everything he had left behind in Texas was gone. Ginny...well, he could only hope that she hadn’t gone through with marrying John Amos.
Cora Mae made a noise, somewhere between a harrumph and an exasperated sigh.
“You don’t like me very much do you?” He didn’t know why it was so important for him to know. It just was. Whether she liked him or not was not the matter. When they got to Sacramento, she was getting married and he was headed his own way, back to Texas.
She stared at him for a moment, then stood and smoothed her hands down the front of her trousers. “I guess I’ll turn in now,” she said.
There was no making friends tonight.
“I can take an early shift if you want to wake me up,” she continued.
That was not something he was willing to do. He knew they had some gold, though he didn’t know how much, and if they were set upon by bandits, what would she do? Get in the way or get hurt and neither of those were fine by him.
“Good night, Cora Mae.”
Her footsteps stuttered a bit as she left the circle around the fire. “Good night, Mr. Evans.”
Birdie spread out her bedroll, her thoughts going round and round like a dog trying to find a comfortable place to sleep. And that’s exactly what her thoughts were—uncomfortable.
And filled with Jed Evans.
Why did he have to be nice? This would be so much easier if he was...well, not so nice. She didn’t want to sit around the fire and chat with him. She just wanted to get to Sacramento as quickly as possible. The quicker they got there, the quicker she would be able to relax.
Once she got rid of the cursed gold. Nothing but trouble.
She laid down on her bedroll but wasn’t able to close her eyes. She stared up at the millions of stars in the sky. She couldn’t fathom the number. And one verse kept circling around in her head.
He counts the number of the stars; He gives names to all of them.
God knew them all. All those many, many stars. Just as He knew her. Just as she knew that He would protect them on this journey. There was a lot at stake for the both of them. Well, her and the church there in Sacramento.
She closed her eyes and tried her best to get some sleep, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to. She needed to rest though. It was going to be a long trip if she didn’t.
She woke, startled that she had been asleep. She tried to find the moon to gauge the time, but thick gray clouds had come in, blocking both it and the stars from view. A crack of lightning chased across the sky; the roll of thunder distant.
Maybe that’s what woke her. It was going to storm. She could feel it in the air and in the jagged scar that ran the length of her right calf. It always ached when the rain or cold came.
She said a small prayer that the rain would pass without drenching them, then rolled over to try and get comfortable once again. It was a blessing that she had slept at all, but now she had the chore of getting back to sleep.
Then she heard it.
A grunt, “an ooof” like the air left a body quickly. Then there was the cock of a pistol.
She sat up in a hurry and looked around the camp. Someone had to be there. Most likely a bandit, keen on taking their treasure.
“Go on now.” That was Mr. Evans’s voice. “I don’t want to have to shoot you,” he continued. “But I will.”
Chills ran over her and she wrapped her arms around herself as if somehow that would be protection enough.
She scanned their camp site once again and finally saw them, shadowy figures in the night. Mr. Evans had a pistol pointed at another man. It might have been the biggest gun she had ever seen—aside from a rifle.
“Y-y-yes, sir,” the man said. He took two tentative steps backward but didn’t turn to watch his footing. He slipped, caught himself before he hit the ground, and never once took his gaze from Mr. Evans. Or rather Mr. Evans’s large revolver.
“And tell any friends you have, if they think they’re going to come here and take what we have, they had better think again. I’ll be waiting for them.”
“Yes, sir.” He gave a wobbly nod, then turned and fled into the darkness.
Evans stood there for a moment, just staring out at something she couldn’t see. She doubted he could see much either. Maybe he was collecting his thoughts. Or praying. After a confrontation such as he just had, she would definitely be talking to the Lord.
She pushed herself to her feet. “Mr. Evans?”
He turned to face her. “I’m sorry. Did the gun shot wake you?”
“Gun shot?” That was what happened? “You shot someone?” Her heart clinched in her chest. She had hired this man and in doing so had made him a murderer.
“Warning shot,” he explained. “Into the air.”
“Oh. Good.”
He moved toward her, stepping back into the dim glow to the banked fire. “So...” he started. “You want to tell me what’s in the right-hand side saddle bags?”
“And if I say no?” People went crazy when they saw that much gold. It had made her a little insane as well. And it had definitely driven her father to his death. What would it do to Mr. Evans? She had no way of knowing.
“You know we have some gold.” She tried to put him off. She shrugged, as if that would help.
He nodded. “Yes. But how much gold?”
She stared at him, not willing to take the chance on this man Lin Sing had hired to escort them to town.
“How much?” he asked again.
Still, she hesitated.
“I just fought off three would-be thieves. And I have a feeling more are coming. So tell me now, what I’m risking my life for.”
“Enough,” she said.
“I beg your pardon.”
“The gold. There’s enough.”
“I don’t believe that’s a proper measurement. Try again.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter how much there is, just that there’s enough that other people are going to want it. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I understand that you’re hiding something from me and have been since our first meeting.” He took another step closer and suddenly he was looming over her. His eyes glittered with anger and, she was sure, the excitement of the previous attack. But she wasn’t about to step back. She knew better. She had to hold her ground.
“Whatever I did, I only did for your benefit.”
“My benefit?” he scoffed. He was furious, he fairly vibrated with it. “Didn’t you think it would be a good idea to warn me about what I was getting into?”
He had a point. Not that she wanted to admit it.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a stirring and turned to see Lin Sing standing at the edge of their campsite. She wanted to beseech him for help but knew that most folks didn’t see much value in the opinion of an Oriental. She was on her own.
“You may be right about that, but I only had your best interests in mind.”
He scoffed again. “Lady, I don’t want your gold. Not any of it that I didn’t earn. But if you expect me to help you get down the mountain with all of it, you had better come clean. And now.”
“Bird?” This from Lin Sing.
“And that’s another thing,” Mr. Evans continued. “Your name is not Cora Mae Hawkins, is it?”
“No,” she whispered.
“You’re Birdie Banks, legendary lady miner who hit a mother lode and now has more money than anyone in California.”
Well, she wouldn’t go that far, and she sure as certain wasn’t going to keep it. It was no good. The Bible told them that avarice was the root of all evil and she had seen it time and again. The gold—any gold—was as good as cursed.
“Yes,” she admitted. “My name’s Birdie.”
“Well, Birdie, since I now know who you are, you can keep your saddle bags closed. I don’t need to see. I know what’s in there. But you picked a lousy way to come down the mountain.”
“There’s only one trail.”
“That’s not what I mean.” He swept an arm around their camp. “One lady, one Chinaman, and one gun.”
“I have a Derringer,” she boasted, completely leaving out the fact that she had never fired it.
“Well, that’ll come in handy if we need to kill a rabbit for supper.”
“We are perfectly capable—”
“You’re not, or you wouldn’t have hired me.”
“We needed another person to help keep watch. I have my gun, and Lin Sing can hold his own.” She lifted her chin at a stubborn angle she hoped he would respect.
He paused. Maybe waited was the right word. Birdie refused to move her gaze from his. She wanted to look away from that intense stare, but she knew better. She had to hold her ground firm and hard.
“Right,” he finally said.
“Just what do you want, Mr. Evans?”
“The truth. And now that I have that, maybe we’ll survive this suicide mission.” He turned to Lin Sing. “It’s your watch.”
Jed stomped over to his bedroll and flopped down onto his covers. He was itchy, anxious, couldn’t bear the thought of the fabric laying on him. So he stayed on top of it.
With a deep breath, he settled back and pretended to relax. He wanted to, he really did, but now that he knew who they were, everything had changed.
Birdie Banks. She was known all over these mountains. He had heard rumor after rumor about her. How much gold she had. Where she got that limp, and that the gold had driven her completely mad.
That must be a lot of gold, he thought.
Why now? Why did she pick now to come down from the mountains? He was certain it had more to do with her father than her upcoming nuptials.
Birdie Banks. And her little Chinaman. What had he gotten himself into? If he had known he was going to have to protect so much life and money he would have refused. Going down the mountain was free, but he had been greedy, accepting their offer for him to escort them without so much as a question one. It just went to show the problems with the human brain. With money, and all the other terrible things in the world.
Birdie Banks. How he wished Toby were here to see her. He wouldn’t believe his own eyes. Jed wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it himself.
But the trouble.
He adjusted his rolled-up jacket and tried to make himself a little more comfortable. He might have underestimated the Chinaman to a point, but he couldn’t say that made him trust him completely. He held his own once. Could he do it again?
Maybe, maybe not. So just in case, Jed was sleeping with one eye open.
The night passed without another attack, but that didn’t mean Birdie actually got any sleep. He knew who she was and he was angry, but he hadn’t said he was leaving. She had to take that as a good omen. Or at least not a bad one. He was going to get them down the mountain and for that she was grateful.
They rose early despite their interrupted night and were back on the trail just after the sun came up. Birdie wasn’t sure if Mr. Evans was simply trying to make a good start or if he was so tired of her presence that he couldn’t wait to be rid of her. Probably the latter.
Today he didn’t try to make idle chat with her. After all that about being a person who liked people, he seemed to have dropped her out of the likeable category. Lin Sing wasn’t much for conversation on a good day, and Birdie didn’t know what to say to Evans. After all, they had lied to him. She had lied to him. For days. Mr. Evans had the right to be upset, even angry. But she didn’t want to say anything that might make him change his mind about helping them get down the mountain. So easily, he could let go of the reins and walk away. His bedroll and the things he had brought with him were in a pouch tied to his back. He had nothing tethering him to her.
So why didn’t he walk away?
Because he’s a man of honor.
She couldn’t argue with that voice, though she didn’t want to agree. She didn’t want Mr. Evans to have too much honor. She didn’t want to have to like him. And she was dangerously close to just that.
Last night he had fought off intruders, didn’t kill anyone, and she felt confident that the men he allowed to leave their camp would not be returning. He had told them that they wouldn’t walk away a second time. And they had believed him. Birdie had as well.
He had honor and righteousness. Almost like he was a man of God. Oh, not like a preacher or anything. Just a man who believed and followed the Bible. Those men were hard to find in the mountains. If they went up a believer, most often times when they came down, they were not. Usually they had lost everything except the clothes they were wearing, and sometimes even that wasn’t worth mentioning.
But Jed Evans seemed different.
“Are you a man of God, Mr. Evans?”
He nearly jumped at her words. They had been traveling for hours in utter silence. They hadn’t yet broken for a noon meal, and Birdie had a feeling, they would eat something as they walked. Cornpones and cheese maybe. Venison jerky. Whatever was easiest and quickest to get to.
“What?” He stopped and turned toward her. Her mule stopped as well.
“Are you a man of God?” she asked again. It wasn’t a hard question.
“Why are you asking?”
“Are you always this prickly?” she countered.
He whistled and tugged on the reins to set her mule into motion once again. “I am when people don’t tell me the truth and it almost costs me my life.”
She hadn’t thought about it that way, and his words sent a shiver down her spine. “Your life?”
“If I hadn’t been ready, they could have snuck into the camp and slit all our throats before we even knew they were there.”
Despite the warmth of the day, gooseflesh broke out on her arms. She knew they were in danger; she had lived with danger for the last five years. She supposed that’s why it didn’t seem quite real. Though it was all too real. It was hard to explain. But she was forever on her toes waiting for something to happen that never did. They had kept to themselves, never letting anyone know just how much gold they had found. Never flaunting it or talking about it. If it hadn’t been for that one visitor they’d had at the camp, the rumor of their find would have never even been started. But as it was, he saw enough gold to talk and was killed for his efforts. Thankfully he succumbed before revealing their exact location.
“I’m sorry,” she said, but her words were softly spoken, and she was afraid they had been carried off on the breeze. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m sorry.”
He stopped once again, as did her mule and Lin Sing and the donkey behind them. “I accept your apology,” he said. Then he whipped off his hat and wiped his forearm across his brow. He settled his hat back in place before checking the sun’s placement in the sky. “Is there anything else I should know before dark falls?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve told you everything.” Not quite. But he didn’t need to know that her father killed himself on that mountain and all for a handful of gold.
She was sorry. He could accept that and he did, but he could tell she was still hiding something from him. Something she didn’t want him to know. About her? The Chinaman? Or maybe eve
n her father? Did it have anything to do with her father’s death? Or her getting married?
“This man you’re marrying,” he said, surprised the words came from his mouth. He surely hadn’t planned on saying them. “Have you known him long?”
“Nelson?”
“Nelson who?” He remembered meeting a man named Nelson before coming up the mountain a couple of years ago. It had been years so it might not be the same person. Nelson wasn’t a very common Christian name, but it wasn’t unheard of either.
“Nelson O’Neil.”
And that was the same man. He was sure of it. “Does he own a store there on the main street in Sacramento?”
“That’s right. He wants to move to San Francisco once we’re married. He wants to open shop there too.”
Too? “He’ll keep both stores?”
“His brother will stay in Sacramento, and we’ll go to San Francisco. Why the interest all the sudden, Mr. Evans?”
“You’re just not going to call me Jed, are you?”
“No.” The word was polite but succinct.
“Well, then, Miss Banks, I was merely curious. It’s good to talk to those around you.”
“And you like people,” she said, though he couldn’t tell if she was merely repeating his words or mocking him for them.
“He’s quite a bit older than you.”
She stiffened her back. “I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything.”
“I apologize,” he said. “I meant no offense. But he is older. About fifteen years?”
“Fourteen,” she said with a sniff.
“And you’ve known him a while?”
“We met a few years ago, before we came up the mountain. Nelson and I just seemed to have a connection. We started to write to each other and the next thing I know he was asking me to marry him.”
Was that before or after you found the gold? But he managed to keep that question to himself. It was too personal and frankly none of his business. But he would surely like to know.
