by Amy Lillard
Two-dollar words to say she missed her father. And he wondered how close they had been. Was she thinking of him as she started into the fire? Or was her mind on Nelson O’Neil, the merchant of Sacramento? The man she had promised to marry.
“How long have you known O’Neil?” Jed heard himself ask the question, but he hadn’t been aware of it forming in his brain and working its way out his mouth.
“I told you already. I met him when we first came to California.”
Jed stuck a stick into the fire and turned it this way and that until it finally caught the flame. “You stayed in Sacramento for a while then?” What did he care about how long Miss Banks had known O’Neil? It wasn’t like Birdie Banks was anything to him. She was a job. That was all. But on some level, he had to admit that he cared for her. As a human being, you know. Nothing more.
So it didn’t really matter to him how long she had known her intended. Shouldn’t. It shouldn’t matter to him.
“Only a week or so.” She gave a small shrug.
Jed stuck the end of the stick in the ground to extinguish its fire. “I thought you—” He broke off and shook his head. It was really none of his business.
Except that there was something special about Birdie Banks. Something he couldn’t name. Something that had nothing whatsoever to do with the gold in her saddlebags. To hear her talk, the gold was more than a burden than a blessing.
“Are you going to miss the mining?” Change the topic of their conversation. It was the perfect way to get out of the corner he had backed himself into.
“There’s where you’re wrong,” she said. “I’m no miner. I’ve never mined anything in my life.”
“So where did the gold in those saddle bags come from?”
She sucked in a deep breath and he could almost smell her reluctance to tell him, finally her expression crumpled and she began her story.
“I was out walking one day. Not far from our camp. My father and Lin Sing had been picking away at a promising site, but they hadn’t found anything. I’m walking. One minute I’m on my feet and the next, I’m tumbling down into a small crevice. That’s how my leg was injured. It went into the hole. I had to wait the rest of the day before they realized I was gone, and they came after me. It was dark when they found me. I was terrified of mountain lions and other beasts, but I sat there, one leg above the ground, the other below. And I prayed. I know I was losing a lot of blood, and prayer was the only thing I had.”
“What did you pray for?” he asked.
“Everything. I prayed for my mother who died when I was three. I prayed for my father since I figured he’d be the one to find my body.”
“You thought you were going to die?”
“Of course I was going to die. These mountains are unforgivable.”
“What else?” he asked. “What else did you pray for?”
“I prayed for the other men on the mountain, the families split up from this mad search for treasure. I prayed for all the children who won’t get to see their fathers because they were here trying to make a fortune.”
“And what about you?”
“What?” She frowned, just a small wrinkle on her brow and crazily enough, he thought it was kind of cute.
“Did you pray for yourself?”
She thought about it a moment. “I guess not,” she finally said. “I don’t like to pray for myself.”
“Why not?” he asked. Like he was qualified to judge. He hadn’t said a prayer in so long he could barely remember when the last time was.
Ah, but you can.
He had prayed over Toby’s body as he had laid it in the ground. And for his mother who would hear the news. And for himself, for most likely he would be the one to have to tell her.
“Praying for oneself seems very self-serving.”
“It is,” he said.
“How can you be humble and kind and self-serving at the same time?”
“I’m just pointing out that most people would have sneaked in a prayer for themselves.”
“’Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.’” She quoted.
“The Gospel of Matthew,” he said.
“You know your Bible, Mr. Evans. Are you a Christian?”
“I used to be.” It was the only answer that came to mind. It was true, but not overly revealing. And with any luck she wouldn’t hold it against him. She didn’t seem the type.
“I don’t think used to be is possible. You either are or you aren’t.”
He sighed. She was not going to let this go. “There was a time when I prayed and talked to God, thanked Him for blessings, and asked Him for them too.”
“And something happened,” she guessed.
“Yes.” He waited to see if she would press.
“I understand,” she finally said. “But know this: God hasn’t given up on you, and He’ll be there when you are ready to trust in Him again.”
And therefore the Lord will wait. He couldn’t remember the rest of the passage word for word. It was in Isaiah, that much he could recall. And he could remember what it was about. It said God was waiting for him. God was gracious and wanted to bless him, if only he would allow those blessings by turning to the Lord.
But he wavered every day and had since Toby had died. How was he supposed to see God’s blessings when He took Jed’s kid brother so young? And in such a terrible place.
That wasn’t true. The mountains in California were beautiful and he was certain they had been all along. It was man who messed them up, tearing through the land and stripping it of its gold. If it hadn’t been for Toby, Jed might have even liked the mountains, but as it was, they were tainted for him and he couldn’t wait to be away.
He punched the rolled-up pair of trousers he was using as a pillow and shifted into a more comfortable position. Well, he had hoped it would have been more comfortable. Almost immediately he felt something poking a hole in his back. He sifted again.
“Do you think the bandits will be out tonight?” Her sweet voice was a beacon through the darkness. She was on the other side of the fire from him. Close, but still apart.
Lin Sing had first watch. Jed hadn’t noticed anyone following them today, like he had the previous days.
They were down out of the mountains now, not in the city, but out in the open where there were no places to throw an ambush. The lay of the land would surely deter any would-be criminals tonight.
Or maybe word of Lin Sing’s handiness with the bang staff had gotten round. At any rate, he felt confident that there would be no trouble tonight.
Which left him pushing around on his bedroll trying to get comfortable, trying not to think about the woman just across from him, and trying to pretend that it didn’t matter to him that she was about to marry another.
He had known her for less than four days. Who she married shouldn’t concern him at all.
“No,” he answered, unsure at first if he was speaking to her or himself. Maybe both. Yes, both. It didn’t concern him, and he figured they were safe.
“Why is Lin Sing still keeping watch?” she asked.
“No sense in getting lazy,” he replied. “Now get some sleep. You’ve got second watch.”
Birdie stared out over the darkened land. The second watch had just begun, but the only thing moving was Lin Sing as he spread out his bedroll and prepared to go to sleep. Even though Jed had warned her earlier, she had been unable to keep her eyes closed for more than ten seconds at a time. It was pretty hard to go to sleep with one’s eyes open. But the change that had happened today kept replaying in her mind. She was unsure what caused the shift, but something had definitely changed between her and Jed.
Only today she had allowed herself to call him by his Christian name and only in her own mind. She would ever be that bold to his face. His face covered in a right proud thicket of coarse, dark beard. It was rugged looking, untam
ed, and little bit—
A little bit unsavory. Yes, that was the word she was looking for. She didn’t like a man in such a raw state. She liked her men refined which was the exact reason that she was going to Sacramento to get married. To a refined man.
Nelson was handsome and kind and not nearly so large as Jed Evans. Oh, he was tall, Nelson that was, but not so broad. He was slim and refined. Just the kind of man she could depend on.
And she loved. She loved Nelson O’Neil. And this weird thing that was going on between her and Mr. Evans (she thought it best to go back to formalities, even in her thoughts) must have something to do with proximity or the fact that they had faced danger time and again on their trip down from the mining camp. They had only two more nights, counting this one, until they would be in Sacramento. And once she parted ways with the scruffy, rugged, Mr. Evans, her life would go back to normal. Well, a new normal. She and Nelson would get married and Mr. Evans would return to Texas and she wouldn’t ever see him again.
The thought made her stomach pitch. Or was it the fish he had caught for their supper? Maybe...though rainbow trout had never had such an effect on her before.
She looked over toward the lump that was Mr. Jedidiah Evans. He couldn’t be the reason she felt so strange. She had only known him a couple of days. Three to be exact. Five total, when it all came down.
But she had spent every minute of every one of those days with him. They had come down off the mountain together. He had taught her how to shoot. They had cooked, fought, and looked out for each other. All those minutes of all those days.
You have known Nelson for years, that little voice in her head reminded her. But did she really know him?
Yes. That was the answer. He had written letter after beautiful letter. Their relationship had its distance, but it still had validity. And nothing Mr. Evans did or said would change that.
The thought settled comfortably in her mind. Once those thoughts quit circling around in her head, her eyes became heavy, a side effect of her lack of sleep in the earlier part of the night.
She stood and stretched. The best thing to do was move around, keep the blood pumping, and her eyes wide. She needed to walk the perimeter of their camp, check on the horses, make sure the men and the gold were safe.
She longed to be rid of it and soon she would. Once she handed the shiny rocks over to the church, she was never going to look back again.
Jed wasn’t sure what caused him to open his eyes. It was too early for his watch. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he did.
His vision had adjusted to the darkness, and he looked across to where Birdie was stationed.
She wasn’t there.
The sleepy feeling that covered him disappeared immediately, leaving him stone-cold sober awake. He pushed himself to sitting and scanned their camp area. He could see the lump that was Lin Sing lying on the ground in a natural position for sleeping. Nothing seemed amiss. So where was Birdie?
He rolled to his feet and eased upright. The darkness and time on the mountain made his motions cautious and slow. She was all right. That was how it had to be. No other way. But after their last couple of nights of robbers, murderers, and thieves, he couldn’t help but expect the worst. And the worst didn’t bear any second thoughts.
But they were on flatter ground, out in the open with not as many places to hide. There were no jutting rock formations or craggy crevices in which to hide. There was grass, the river, and the endless star-filled sky.
“Is something wrong?”
Her voice came close to him, off to the left and a little behind him, as if in his haste to look for her he had passed her altogether.
He turned, cleared his throat. “I woke up, wondered where you were.”
“I’m right here.”
He wasn’t sure what to say to that.
“I thought you said we were safe down here in the valley.” Her voice was quiet, not the least bit accusing. But somehow, he felt the crushing responsibility of her life in his hands.
He cleared his throat again. “Not safe, but safer. Somewhat.” He gave a little cough. “You shouldn’t wander off from the camp.”
She glanced around. “Is this wandering off?”
“Close enough,” he gruffed, uncomfortable at having been caught in his over-concern.
She seemed not to notice. Instead she turned from him, lifted her face to the sky and inhaled deeply. “Is it me, or are there more stars here in the valley?”
Jed looked to the sky for the first time noticing the littering of stars across the dark velvet canvas. “The same amount I suppose.”
Birdie lowered her chin and pinned him with an exasperated look. “I’m going to guess that you didn’t leave a love in Texas pining away for your return.”
“What makes you say that?” He had left a love behind, but he doubted Ginny was pining away. He supposed that by now she had moved on with her life.
“Not a very romantic thing, to tell a woman, that there is the same number of stars on the mountain as off.”
He shrugged but was glad for the cover of night for it hid the color he felt creeping into his cheeks. He studied the sky once more. Were there more stars when one looked at them from the valley? The sky was covered with them. There certainly couldn’t be any more up on the mountain.
He shook his head at his own confusing thoughts. “I guess. Maybe.” He had never given stars much thought one way or the other. But it seemed that Miss Banks had thought about stars a great deal.
“Maybe they just look brighter down in the valley,” she mused.
“A person would think that they would be bigger and brighter on the mountain since you were closer to the sky,” he said.
“God,” she replied. “You would be closer to God. Moses climbed the mountain to be closer to God.”
Not so in California. Jed came, climbed up on a mountain, and lost God. Lost faith.
“Why did you come to California?” It was almost as if she knew his story was a painful one. One he had kept to himself for so long. Maybe it was time to tell it. Though he wasn’t sure if he could find his way.
“My brother,” he said, not finding the words much of an introduction, he stated again. “My brother Toby wanted to come to California. He was certain he would find his fortune here.”
“But not you.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t want to come to California at all.”
“But you came anyway. For family,” she guessed.
“I wanted to work on the farm and get married.”
“So you did leave a girl pining away.”
He stared off at nothing. “Not really. I left a girl, but she’s married to someone else now.”
“I’m sorry.” The words were almost lost to the sounds of the night. Singing crickets, the lap of the water, the rustling of the world.
“Yeah, well, that’s done now.” And there was no looking back. “Like so many others,” he continued, not realizing until he started telling the story that he really needed to relay it to someone other than himself. He had gone over it in his mind so many times it was like a stage play running over and over inside his head. “Like so many others, we found nothing.”
Most found nothing but heartache on the mountains and in the streams there in California. The quest for gold was only good for ripping apart families and breaking men.
“And he died,” she said softly.
It was an invitation for him to continue and he found himself wanting to. For the first time since Toby’s death he wanted to tell someone about the tragedy. He had written their mother, then put the details away in a box inside his mind, but it rattled and shook waiting impatiently to be released. He hadn’t been ready before, but now he felt as if he could talk about it. But only with Birdie.
“I think he loved the thrill of it more than anything. The chance to get out and try something new, the gamble that each day brought.” Jed shook his head. At the time he had thought Toby to be naïve and foo
lish, but now Jed realized that the search for gold had brought out a part of Toby’s personality that had always been there, just simmering under the surface. Toby had never been as happy to work the land as Jed was. Toby wanted more. He read the stories about Louis and Clark and dreamed of adventure. He read about Ichabod Crane and longed for excitement. Even the Bible was more of a book of adventures and legends to him than a guide for daily living.
Jed pushed the thought to the back of his mind and continued his story. “He decided that the gold was scarce in the river during the day because of all the miners upstream.”
She made a noise, but he didn’t give her time to form words. He held up a hand. “I know. But he had himself convinced.”
“What did he do?”
Jed shook his head, unable to believe that the words he was about to say were the honest truth. If he hadn’t witnessed it with his own eyes, he never would have believed it himself. “He fashioned a head piece out of a length of a belt and a tin cup. Then he put a candle in it—for light, you see—and started to work.”
“At night,” she verified.
He nodded. “At night.”
She waited patiently for him to continue. The rest was the hardest part of the story. “I called him a fool and went to bed.”
In the darkness that surrounded them she reached out and clasped his hand into her own.
“When I got up the next morning—” His voice cracked, but he pressed on. “He was alive, but just barely. He had pulled himself up to the bank.”
“Do you know what happened?”
He blinked away the tears that were starting to form. He surely didn’t want to cry in front of someone as strong as Birdie Banks. “No.” He gave a small cough to clear his throat and put his voice back right. “I suppose he slipped and fell. It looked like he had hit his head.” He didn’t want to consider the other possibilities. That someone had happened along and killed him for whatever he had pulled out of the river that night. It didn’t bear thinking about. And most probably was the invention of his own mind. If someone had come along, they would have taken more from the camp than a bit of gold and his brother’s life.
