by Amy Lillard
“I’ve met him, you know,” Jed said instead.
“You did?” It was her turn to stop. “In Sacramento?”
Jed smiled. “Where else?”
“Right.” She started back up again. “Of course.”
“He seemed like a right fine fellow.” And that was the truth. Jed had nothing ill to say about the man, not that he had spent that much time with him. But Nelson O’Neil appeared to be a straight shooter. Even if he was too old by far for the stubborn Miss Banks. What business of his was it?
“Thank you. I think so too.”
They walked for a moment more in silence.
“I suppose you’ll buy your trousseau when you get back to town.”
She colored at the words. He supposed they were a bit forward. That’s what happened after a year or so living with mostly men and the women who were around were fallen doves. “Yes.”
“And your mother?”
“My mother died a long time ago, Mr. Evans.” Her voice turned cool, and he knew he had hit a sore spot with her.
“I’m sorry to hear that. My mother is still living, but I lost my father three years ago. Four,” he corrected after a quick mental count. That was the other problem with the mountain. There were days and there were nights, but the passing of time seemed suspended. Weeks became months and months became years so easily that a person hardly knew it was happening.
“I shall pray for your loss.”
There was God again. Somehow their conversation had made a complete round.
“So, Mr. Evans,” she said. “Are you a man of God?”
He heard it in her words, all the talk about praying and such, he saw it in the way she reached up and touched the cross she wore around her neck, she was a woman of God.
But after all that she had been through, how could she keep her faith?
He’d had so much trouble believing in anything after Toby died. He was just a kid. One minute there, gone the next.
“I’ll take your hesitation to be a no,” she said.
He shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s just—” He broke off, why was it so important that she know that there had a been a time when God was nearly everything in his life? That he had prayed over puppies and crops and cattle, anything that needed help. God had always been there. Yet when Jed had prayed over Toby...nothing. “I used to be,” he finally said.
She cocked her head to one side and half-turned toward him. He wished she wouldn’t do that, take her attention from the path ahead. There could be loose gravel, holes, even snakes to impede her progress.
You just don’t like her looking at you like that.
No, he didn’t like her looking at him as if he had taken leave of his senses.
“You either are or you aren’t, Mr. Evans. There is no used to be with God.”
He supposed she was right. And he hated it. He couldn’t outright say that he had lost faith. The words were too harsh. They were bad enough in his head when he told himself that God wasn’t listening, but to say those very words to someone like Birdie Banks...
Though it was a lot easier for her to count her blessings instead of her troubles when riding with two saddlebags filled with gold.
Money couldn’t buy a person everything, but it surely helped a body get along.
Unable to find a suitable answer, he merely grunted and moved his gaze to the trail ahead.
She had offended him. She was always offending people. It was her mouth. She tended to say what was on her mind in what her father always referred to as an “unladylike fashion.” He had even sent her through charm school, but some of the lessons simply never took.
Her words might have been true, but they were painful.
Why had she said them? She didn’t want to hurt Mr. Evans or offend him in anyway. It would be all too easy for him to let go of the reins and merely walk away. They would find their way down the mountain eventually. Maybe. If she and Lin Sing could hold their own against any more would-be bandits.
Three more days. Hopefully it would only take them three more days to be into Sacramento. Once there she wouldn’t have to worry about her unladylike opinions.
She opened her mouth to apologize, then closed it again. Not because saying she was sorry was a weakness, but because her words were true. There was no mid-way with God. And it wasn’t like she made the rules. She simply lived by them.
“I’ve offended you, Mr. Evans.” There went her mouth again.
He hesitated long enough she thought he might not answer at all. “No.” The word was short and quiet.
She turned to look at him once again. But she couldn’t read the closed expression on his face. She might not have offended him, but he had definitely taken offense. At least it looked that way to her. Not that she ever understood men. Lin Sing was the closest. And he was an Oriental. He was raised different, treated different in this country. America might be free, but to some it had many limitations.
Her father had been more than a mystery. He was downright confusing. And the longer they had stayed on the mountain, the more he confused her. But that had more to do with gold fever than anything.
“God is waiting.” She hadn’t meant to say that either, but once the words were out, there they were. They were true, so she couldn’t regret saying them. But somehow she felt as if she was merely a messenger. God wanted Jed Evans to hear those words, and He had used her to say them.
It was a strange feeling, warm and helpful, but not. The message didn’t come from her, just through her.
Mr. Evans nodded. “I know.”
God is waiting.
He knew it. Didn’t need her to tell him. But as far as he was concerned, God could just keep on waiting. He had made Jed wait enough. Made him suffer. The hardest thing he had ever done was bury his baby brother. Even leaving Ginny behind in Texas didn’t compare to putting Toby in the ground.
God is waiting.
It didn’t matter. He had seen too much, done too much for God to ever forgive. Oh, he’d heard the preacher man talk about God’s infinite patience and understanding, but Jed knew better. Everyone, even God, had a limit. He couldn’t see around it.
But the thought was still a comfort.
God is waiting. Like maybe someday there would be a way for Jed to find himself back in the light of grace. That little sliver of hope was what kept him going.
They broke at noon to give the mule and the donkey time to rest, at least that’s what Mr. Evans said. She had a feeling he was giving her time to recoup as well. She had never tried to ride this far since her accident, and she was afraid she had overestimated her abilities. She started off fine, but after a couple of hours she was hurting more than ever. By the time they stopped she wasn’t sure how much longer she could continue. Thankfully the break restored her a bit, and she had been able to finish out the day without too much pain.
Still she was looking forward to a nice, long, steaming hot bath to soak her aching muscles. With any luck only three more days until that could happen.
They worked as a quiet team when they stopped for the night. She went in search of firewood, Lin Sing unpacked the food they had, and Mr. Evans unburdened the beasts and rubbed them down. Lin Sing had cooked fresh food the first night, some of the last produce from her tiny elevated garden. Tonight it would be more jerky and cornpones. That was another thing, she thought as she gnawed on the tough meat. Fried chicken. That was the second thing she was going to do. She was going to find the nearest restaurant and get herself a big plate of fried chicken with potatoes and lots of gravy. Then cake. Wonderful cake with sweet, sweet frosting. She sighed at the thought.
“Are you all right?”
She pulled her attention away from her own thoughts and settled them on Mr. Evans. His expression was filled with genuine concern.
“Yes,” she said. “I was just thinking about what I’m going to do when we get to Sacramento.”
“Still thinking about that cup of tea?”
“Bat
h.” She couldn’t stop her smile.
“And next is decent food?”
“Fried chicken.” She held her hands out as if to show the size of the plate she wanted it served on. “Lots of fried chicken. And cake. Then the tea.”
He chuckled. “Mind if I tag along?”
“Feel free to join me.” Her face filled with heat as she realized what she had just said. “At supper, I mean. Not the bath. You can’t join me in my bath.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I’m getting married. If anyone joins me it should be Nelson.” She stopped. “But not until we’re married and even then—” She clamped her lips shut. The only way to stop her mouth was to stop her mouth.
“I know what you mean.” Were his cheeks a little red or was that the firelight casting a ruddy glow on his face? Hard to tell.
“Do you love him?” The question seemed to pop out of the thin mountain air.
She didn’t have to ask what he meant. “We are very compatible.”
“You know this from the time you spent together before you came up the mountain.”
“Well, yes,” she said. But the words were so close to a lie she almost immediately asked for forgiveness. “I mean, we didn’t spend a great deal of time together but enough.” She sniffed. But she shouldn’t have bothered trying to convince Evans. The look on his face said he wouldn’t believe anything she said. Or was that her reading more into his expression than was really there? Maybe out of guilt...?
“Nelson and I spent what time we could together before I—you know what? I don’t have to defend my relationship with him. I know what’s in our hearts, and that’s all that matters.”
But she had defended her relationship with Nelson. That was the sore spot. All that talking about nothing. And for what? To have Jed Evans still look at her as if she was some kind of fool for promising to marry a man she knew mostly through his letters?
She punched at her bedroll, not because it was lumpy but sheer frustration. The only problem was the action didn’t bring her any peace. She might not know everything about Nelson, but she knew all she needed to know. He was kind and caring and he loved her. Well, a little. Okay, he was fond of her, but that was where love started. Not a thing wrong with that. They held a mutual respect and affection. Who could ask for more? Who would ask for more? Certainly not her. And that had nothing to do with her limp or the scar that slashed across her forehead. Nothing at all.
Nelson was a kind man and they made a good fit. Sacramento, then on to San Francisco. She might have lost her father, but she had a fine life laid out before her. A life with Nelson O’Neil. And no one could find fault in that; not even a dusty miner who hailed from Texas and felt he had blown all his chances with God.
Who believes that anyway?
How could a person think that God was done with them? It just didn’t make sense. God was loving, caring and kind. He was always there. Always waiting for when you needed a hand.
Seemed like Mr. Evans—Jed—had forgotten that last part.
What caused a man to lose faith? She just didn’t understand. Probably never would. But three days or so it wouldn’t matter because she would never see Jed Evans again.
“Argggghhh!”
Birdie woke with a start. They were under attack again. She wasn’t sure how she knew; she just did. She was on her feet in an instant, her derringer in her hand. But she didn’t want to shoot it. How terrible to hurt or even kill another person over something as trivial as gold.
But she couldn’t allow herself to be killed...or worse.
She could see shadows in the darkness, though she couldn’t tell who the shapes belonged to. There were two that could have been Mr. Evans and she had been around Lin Sing enough to recognize the grace of his movements. She didn’t see him amongst the fray. And it was a fray. Twisting bodies and slinging limbs. Thank heavens no one had a weapon. She supposed the thieves happened upon them without being fully prepared.
The thought no sooner crossed her mind than she saw the flash of moonlight against metal. A gun? A knife?
She cocked her pistol, but her hand shook. Could she fire into the mass of bodies rolling around? What would happen if she missed? Or worse, shot Mr. Evans?
She released the hammer and lowered the derringer. There was nothing she could do.
The air next to her ear moved, like a swoosh of breath. Then a flash of something she couldn’t recognize and a fleshy whack. There was a groan of pain.
“Lin Sing?” she whispered into the darkness. She could see a little but not much. The moon was not full enough to light their campsite and the fire had long since burnt out.
He didn’t answer with words. Just another swish of his staff, a bang he called it. Birdie thought the name was silly. She watched him practice his movements with the weapon, but she had never seen him in action. She wished she could see better. But before she could even lament the darkness, the fight was over.
Suddenly Mr. Evans and Lin Sing were in front of her.
“You, uh...are pretty good with that thing.” He nodded toward Lin Sing’s staff.
Lin Sing bowed. “I help, Jed Evans.”
“Yes, you did.” Mr. Evans bowed in return.
Birdie released her breath, only then realizing that she had been holding it. “How many times is that going to happen?” she asked no one in particular.
“We can always hope that this is the last time,” Mr. Evans replied.
“Pray,” she corrected. Praying was the best, though she didn’t like praying for herself. But she supposed if she prayed for all their safety that it was more like praying for others than herself.
“Pray.” He said the word as if the concept was as mysterious as the moon. “Yes.”
“Well, thank goodness Lin Sing had his staff,” Mr. Evans continued.
She wanted to correct him and say that God was responsible, but she figured he’d had enough religion for one night. Still, she vowed, before the end of this trip she would find out what caused his loss of faith and then figure out how to get it back. After the protection he had afforded her this trip, as far as she was concerned, it was the least she could do.
“Do you think it’s safe now?” she asked.
Mr. Evans nodded. “For while at least, but if you want to pray about it. I’m sure it couldn’t hurt.”
She shook her head slowly, sadly. “Of course it can’t hurt.”
He pulled in air as if he was about to say something, then he let it out but no words came.
“Go ahead,” she urged him.
“What are you talking about?” He half-turned as Lin Sing moved away from them, back over to his pallet. He laid the bang at his side, well within reach.
“You want to ask me something about God.” She nodded encouragingly. “Ask me.”
He shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Good night, Miss Banks.”
She watched him until he disappeared into the darkness.
He needed to get some rest. Tomorrow was going to be another day of hard travel and it seemed that word had gotten round that Birdie Banks and all her gold were leaving the mountain. Apparently there were a great number of people who would do her the favor of lightening her load.
He needed rest. Even more so after tonight’s altercation.
Altercation. Scuffle was more like it. He could smell the alcohol on the attackers. That was the strange thing about spirits: They could impair a man or make him think he was on top of the world, unbeatable. A body just never knew. These men were slow to react, but tenacious. The three of them—he, Lin Sing, and Miss Banks—were lucky that nothing more happened. It could have turned out much worse.
He needed to rest, but he couldn’t close his eyes, much less stay still long enough to be able to fall asleep. He was restless, antsy. And he didn’t know why. Except for maybe it had something to do with Birdie Banks.
There. He admitted it, but only to himself. She...disturbed him with all her talk about God and prayer.
The woman
talked about God as if He were her best friend. It had never been that way for Jed. He had always revered God. The Lord was mystical, needed to be feared and always obeyed. Jed had grown up believing that if he had faith and obeyed that nothing would happen to him. Naïve at best, but that’s what he thought. He considered himself smart enough, but now that he had been out in the world, he realized he had been sheltered there on their Texas ranch.
The worst part was she looked like an angel. He wanted to believe everything she was telling him, even though he knew the truth. God didn’t care. He wasn’t on their side. Jed had prayed and prayed only to have one problem after another in these cursed mountains. He had prayed for wisdom, patience, and most off, for Toby. Young sweet Toby. The only reason he had left everything behind. Yet what was a man to do but look after his baby brother?
Turned out, Jed couldn’t even do that right.
He flung an arm over his eyes. If he couldn’t close them at least he could pretend that they were closed. At least this way he couldn’t see the millions of stars overhead. But he couldn’t stop his mind from conjuring up Birdie Banks. Heaven help them all.
“That stick that Lin Sing has...” Jed started the following day. They had been on the trail for a bit. Neither one mentioned a word about the night before. But he could remain silent for no more.
“He calls it a bang.”
“Is that the real name or a nickname?” he asked.
“I have no idea.”
“So where did he learn to use it?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know that either.”
“He’s good with it.”
She smiled, a small smile as if it had only been intended for her own benefit. “Yes, he is.”
That was the other thing that had kept him awake last night. Or maybe he had been trying to not imagine Birdie Banks and all he could see were the fluid motions of one little Oriental man.
“You could have warned me,” he groused.
“Did you think you were the only one with any skills?”
