by Jo Goodman
"Because he knows me. Isn't that right, Dancer?" Jarret turned to the prospector only to find he had moved. He spun around, facing the entrance now, and saw Dancer standing on the threshold with his Winchester raised. "Put it down, Dancer. I'm not looking for any trouble."
"Neither am I," the prospector said. "You go on your way, leave me and my friend alone, and we'll all be fine."
Jarret stood slowly, raising his hands, palms up, to the level of his waist. "He's the reason I've come," he said quietly, evenly. He didn't want to spook Dancer. "But I think you realized that, didn't you? There's nothing much that gets past you."
"Nothin' much."
"Do you know who my traveling companion is, then?" he asked.
Dancer's chin jutted forward aggressively. "It's a sure thing she ain't never killed no one," he said, almost daring Jarret to contradict him.
"That's right, she hasn't."
"I thought so. And she weren't really sick neither."
"Not as sick as she appeared to be, no, but she was very ill a short time ago. She's not all that strong yet." He paused to let that sink in, then said, "I think you might have a guess about her identity, Dancer."
"Humph."
Jarret suspected Dancer knew and didn't want to admit it to himself or anyone else. Some sort of bond had been forged between Jay Mac and the old prospector in the months since the train wreck, and Dancer was fighting to keep the only human connection he had made in more than twenty years. "Do you want me to say?" Jarret asked calmly. "You know what it means. She's come a long way to find him."
"I didn't hurt her none."
"I know. But if we don't go back soon, she'll wake up and be frightened that we're gone."
Using the cane for support, Jay Mac struggled up to his knees. He squinted in Dancer's direction. "What's he talking about, Dancer? You told me the woman with him murdered her husband."
"That's what he told me," said Dancer defensively, jerking his rifle at Jarret to emphasize his point.
Jarret realized belatedly that Jay Mac wouldn't know any differently. He probably had first suspected that Jarret's path had crossed his because of a bounty. "But it isn't true," Jarret said. "Tell him, Dancer."
"She got your eyes!" Dancer shouted. His face contorted briefly in anger. The web of scars on the side of his face pulsated as his jaw clenched. He raised the rifle, prepared to shoot, then just as suddenly changed his mind. He spun around on the balls of his feet and charged out of the mine.
Jarret leaned a little weakly against one of the support timbers and waited for his heart to still. He glanced down at his useless right hand as the tingling skittered along his skin from wrist to elbow to shoulder. He swore curtly under his breath.
Jay Mac hauled himself to a stand, leaning heavily on the cane. "You took quite a chance not drawing on him," he said.
"There's not much sense in it when a Winchester's already staring you in the face." To say nothing of the fact that he couldn't have drawn if he'd wanted.
"Still, you took measure of the man's character and realized he wouldn't hurt you. It's not in Dancer to hurt a soul." He looked toward the entrance but couldn't see more than a blur of light and shadow. "Don't worry about him; he'll go off in the hills for a while, then come back when he's ready." He turned to Jarret. "What did he mean about the woman's eyes being mine? Who's come here with you?"
"It's Rennie, sir," Jarret said, finding he had it in him to raise a smile. "She's brought your spectacles."
* * *
Jarret guided the mule back to the cabin while Jay Mac rode. It was a sight that Jarret wasn't likely to forget, and he let the railroad tycoon know it. Jay Mac wanted to hear everything about how they had found him, but Jarret wouldn't oblige him. "You need to hear it from your daughter," was all he said, and the subject was closed.
Jay Mac leaned on Jarret to get from the lean-to to the cabin. "My right leg's healed fine," he said, "but I just sprained the left one again the other day. Dancer warned me I was trying to do too much, that I wasn't strong enough, but I—"
Holding up his hand, Jarret cut him off. "You don't have to explain, sir. I know about how deep the stubborn streak goes."
He chuckled appreciatively. At the door he paused, and his quiet tone was solemn. "I've got no complaints about Dancer Tubbs," he said. "He saved my life. Still, I doubt you can ever know how glad I am you're here. I couldn't have made it out of here for weeks yet, perhaps not even then, and probably not on my own. I've known for a while now that Dancer wasn't going to help me leave."
"You've made a friend there. No one who's ever met Dancer thought that could happen."
"I know," he said heavily. "What I don't know is if I've done him any favors. That man's been alone for years, but I think it's been a long time since he had to struggle with loneliness."
In a gesture of understanding, Jarret placed his hand on Jay Mac's forearm. "Let's go inside," he said lowly.
"Your daughter's waiting."
It was the fingers drifting lightly across her brow that woke Rennie. She wrinkled her nose, squeezed her eyes tighter, and smiled sleepily. She batted at the hand. "Go away, Jarret."
Jay Mac's usually impassive face showed a flicker of surprise. "It's not Jarret," he said.
Rennie's eyes opened widely and stared into ones very much like her own. "Papa!" She bolted upright and launched herself into his arms. Rennie pressed kisses all across his broad face. "How? When did you—? Where—?" She looked for Jarret. He was standing by the hearth, watching her. "Did you—?" She searched her father's dear face. His dark sandy hair was longer than she'd ever seen it, curling under his collar. He'd allowed his side-whiskers to grow into an unruly beard, and his mustache had lost its elegant shape. "You look—" Tears sparkled in her eyes, and her throat closed. She stared at her father mutely.
Jay Mac held Rennie, rocking her much as he had when she was a child. He patted her head lightly, stroking her hair, and saying just the right things in her ear. "You're a wonder, Mary Renee. A perfect wonder."
It was dawn by the time both sides of the story unfolded. Jay Mac refused to say or hear anything until he had washed and changed clothes. Nothing of Dancer's had ever fit him, but now Jarret offered some clothing—all of it slightly too big—and Jay Mac was outfitted in flannel drawers, jeans, a light blue cotton shirt, and heavy woolen socks. His chipped spectacles rested askew on his face in spite of his efforts to straighten and flatten the ear stems. It was only a minor irritant. John MacKenzie Worth pronounced himself a new man.
While Jay Mac washed, Jarret explained to Rennie what had happened as she slept. It hadn't been entirely surprising to him, he told her, because a hermit with two chairs and two beds had been early evidence that Dancer had company. The prospector's flight into the rocks was especially distressing to Rennie. She couldn't imagine leaving without seeing him again, thanking him, or saying goodbye.
After Rennie's convoluted tale of her trip west to find him, Jay Mac's account of No. 412's derailment could not have been more simple. He had been standing on the postage-stamp-sized balcony at the rear of his private car—and then he hadn't. He had no memory of anything connected with the actual accident and only a vague recollection of wandering in the trees, along the stream, and up and down rocky inclines until he collapsed. The next thing he knew he was lying on the floor of Dancer's cabin. His legs were immobilized in splints. There was a pillow under his head and a blanket over him. He slipped in and out of consciousness, recalled being spooned soggy chunks of bread soaked in broth, and knew his attempts to communicate were ineffectual. By the time his first unbroken memories began he was resting comfortably on a newly constructed bed, and one of the splints had been removed.
Jay Mac's alliance with Dancer was forged over the length of his slow recovery. He knew that the prospector was disfigured, but the extent of the injuries was never clear to Jay Mac, nor was it important. Likewise, Jay Mac believed Dancer Tubbs didn't care in the least that his guest was one of the hu
ndred richest men in the country.
"Truth is," Jay Mac said, winding down his story, "Dancer's gold mine is a gold mine, so I don't suppose that my little fortune impressed him much. It's been a long time since I had to earn a man's respect for what I was and not what I owned."
Rennie heard something wistful on the edge of her father's words. "You sound as if you enjoyed it," she said.
He smiled, rubbing his bearded chin. "Sometimes it's good to earn a person's respect the hard way."
Jarret saw Rennie flush at her father's statement and knew she had taken it personally. He had no idea whether Jay Mac had intended it to be a pointed observation, but he keenly felt Rennie's hurt. "We can't travel today," he said, putting down the fire poker. "Jay Mac, you and I haven't had any sleep, and Rennie's not had much more. It would be better all the way around if we caught a few hours now, and again tonight, and took to the trail tomorrow."
There was immediate agreement. It was the sleeping arrangement that caused some distress. Jay Mac could not climb to the loft, so Rennie gave up the bed for him. When she started to follow Jarret into the loft, however, her father cleared his throat disapprovingly. Rennie paused on the ladder and looked down at her father, mute appeal in her eyes. Jay Mac backed away, but not down. "We'll speak of it later," he said.
Rennie crawled into the loft. Jarret had already collected blankets and was preparing to push them over the edge. "What are you doing?" she asked.
"I'll sleep in front of the fireplace. It will be all right."
"Please, no," she said lowly. "Stay with me."
"Your father—"
"We're sleeping, Jarret."
He reached for her then, held her. They stretched out on the feather tick and fell asleep in each other's arms.
* * *
Dancer approached the cabin the following morning as they were getting ready to leave. He drew his horse to one side of the path and dismounted. Jay Mac watched him and said to Rennie and Jarret, "Go on, wait for me on the trail up ahead."
Jarret led the way. He leaned over in his saddle as he passed Dancer and held out his hand. "Thank you," he said. "If there's ever—"
Dancer accepted the outstretched hand haltingly, shook it once, and waved Jarret on. "Shoulda fixed that shoulder," he muttered.
Rennie wanted to dismount and put her arms around the surly prospector. Suspecting it would be rebuffed, Rennie leaned over in her saddle as Jarret had done and put out her hand. "You're quite a wonderful man, Dancer. I thought so even before my father said he felt the same way."
Dancer shifted his weight and looked away; then he gave Rennie's horse a slap on the flank and sent her trotting toward Jarret.
They waited where the trail widened on the other side of the stream. A grove of trees gave Jay Mac and Dancer privacy. Rennie came abreast of Jarret and leaned forward, stroking Albion's black mane. "What do you think they're saying to each other?" she asked.
"I don't know," he said. "I know what I say to Ethan when we're not going to see each other for a while. I tell him I'll be there if he needs me. He says the same. And we always have been."
Jay Mac came up the trail a few minutes later, riding the packhorse. "Let's go," he said gruffly.
It was hard to know for sure, but behind Jay Mac's chipped lenses, Rennie thought she saw her father's tears.
* * *
They rode for several hours before Rennie realized they weren't retracing the trail back to the wreckage. Jarret explained that they needed to take a different route if they were going to avoid the avalanche. There was also Jay Mac's strength they needed to consider. Rennie accepted his reasoning, but she suspected there was something more. When she pressed, his replies were enigmatic, and finally she let it go, finding Jay Mac's questions about family and Northeast Rail more than kept her busy.
They stopped often during the ride so that Jay Mac could stretch his legs, and Jarret called a halt to everything with a few hours of daylight left so that they could make camp. There was no question of who would share the tent that first night and each subsequent night. Jarret laid out his bedroll near the fire, and Rennie and her father took the tent.
"You've asked me a lot about Mother," she said quietly, staring at the shadows that flickered on the canvas ceiling. "And about my sisters. You haven't asked very much about me."
Jay Mac's head was cradled in his palms. He stared at the same flickering play of light as his daughter, and he answered lowly so that he would not be overheard. "I think you know why that is. What would you have me say in front of him? I don't need my spectacles to see the man's in love with you."
"I love him, too, Jay Mac."
"I know that. But you haven't told him, have you?"
She shook her head. "No... I couldn't."
"This isn't the way you were raised, Mary Renee."
Before she thought better of it, she said, "It was exactly the way I was raised."
The silence that followed was charged.
Jay Mac spoke only when the first flash of anger had receded. "I've never raised my hand to you, because I never thought it was deserved." He added unhappily, "Until now."
Rennie turned on her side toward him. "I'm sorry, Papa," she whispered. In the darkness her eyes beseeched him. "I'm so sorry."
"I know you are. It doesn't change what's been said, though."
"I would take it back."
He sighed. "You can't. Like so many things that have ever been done, it can't be taken back." He found her hand and laid his over it, patting it gently as anger receded. "Maybe it's not a bad thing. Some things shouldn't be erased so quickly; some are worth thinking about. I make no apologies for being with your mother all these years, Rennie. Moira's part of me, and apologizing for loving her would be like being sorry for living. I'll never be sorry for that. I regret things, though. I regret that my wealth and my power can't protect my daughters from being called bastards. I flinch a little every time I realize the strength you've all cultivated is going to be turned first on me. I regret that you've needed it because of me. I regret that I can't protect you and that I can't make you learn from any mistakes but your own."
Jay Mac felt the grip on his hand change as Rennie squeezed his fingers. "I never lied to your mother, Rennie," he said. "She knew from the beginning who I was and what I was. There was no question of marriage being possible between us. We understood that at the outset, long before there was any intimacy."
"Papa," Rennie said, uncomfortable. "You don't have to—"
"I think I do. I want you to know that honesty between your mother and me has always been important. When you think of how you were raised, I hope you'll think of that."
Rennie's knees curled up. She did not let go of her father's hand. "I'll tell him," she said quietly. "Please give me time. Let me do it in my own way when I think it's right."
"I love you, Rennie. I want what's best for you. You're my daughter."
"Mama was someone's daughter, too. He wanted the same for her and she chose you." She heard her father sigh. "I think she made the right choice."
Jay Mac smiled. "Just give me your little finger, Rennie. The one you have me wrapped around."
* * *
It was two more days of journeying before Rennie understood where Jarret was leading them. She noticed the lay of the land, the winding floor of the valley, the wide stream that cut a meandering path through its center, the hard hillside terrain on either side of the mountain lake that would have made building trestles and laying railroad ties so difficult. Jarret never said a word to them until he had brought them above the valley so that they could see the expanse of it, the grade of the slopes, the waterfall, and the beauty of the barren trees outlined with snow. Noonday light was reflected off the surface of ice-covered lake, and the cascading falls looked as if they were spilling sunshine.
"The mountain town everyone wants to reach by rail lies on the other side of the lake," Jarret said. He pointed to the cluster of wooden buildings nestled among the d
istant pines. Higher up the mountainside, trees had been stripped to make openings for the mine tunnels and shafts. "That's Queen's Point."
The splendor of the vista faded for Jay Mac. He frowned. "It can't be," he said.
Jarret wasn't surprised by Jay Mac's reaction. "I assure you it is. Across the lake is, what I suspect, one of the richest silver mines in all of Colorado. The problem is, the miners have to bring the ore out by pack mule, and they can't get heavy equipment in here to run the shafts as deeply as they want or process the ore. Up in Madison the folks don't want the railroad. They figure their ore will last out the century that way, and wealth can trickle in and out. At Queen's Point they're not all that concerned with trickling. A geyser of wealth would suit them fine. That's why they want the Northeast to put down rails. The way I understand it is that yours is the first company to offer them a contract that wouldn't gouge them for using the line."
"That's right," said Jay Mac. He dismounted slowly, favoring his injured leg. Leaning on his cane, he limped to the edge of a steeper part of the slope and surveyed the lake to his left and the valley below. "But this can't be Queen's Point," he repeated. "The work is already supposed to be started down there."
Jarret shared a glance with Rennie before he urged his horse closer to where her father stood. "Rennie said something about that to me," he said casually. "It was the first I'd heard about it. Of course, I hadn't exactly been making a point to be informed. I didn't even know about the derailment until Rennie showed up in Echo Falls. I thought as long as we were close you might want to see things here for yourself."
Stunned, Jay Mac could not keep himself from staring out over the valley. He heard Rennie's approach on foot but did not turn. "I had planned to come out this way to see the progress of the line myself," he said.
"I didn't know that," Rennie said.
Jay Mac shrugged. "I didn't tell you on purpose. I wanted to see the lay of this country firsthand, learn for myself if you were right about the valley flooding."
"I thought you didn't believe me about it."
