So be it.
The men descended the incline and rode on until after sunset, when they decided to stop for the night. Yiska made a fire, and they cooked a supper of fresh bear meat and canned beans. As the temperature dropped, they retreated to the lean-to they’d put up.
Under pine bough shelter, Yiska reclined against his saddle with his Navajo blanket as his cover and new rifle at his side. The howl of coyotes echoed in the distance as he thanked the Christian God that He had heard his call for help today.
Eliana, now dressed as the young man Eli, hummed as she sat on the bench next to Papa. He drove their wagon along the dirt toll road toward Eureka—one of several assignments they had contracted in photographing the mining towns throughout the San Juans. Their white mule, Sampson, pulled a box-covered wagon with VAN HORN PHOTOGRAPHY painted on its sides. It housed a darkroom and temporary shelter for the pair.
“Did you hear Mr. Whiley at the hymn sing? He is quite a talented baritone,” Eliana said.
“He carried quite a tune, I’ll give him that. He actually knew some of those hymns,” Papa said.
“He and Maria harmonized very well together.” Eliana smiled at the thought of the unlikely couple.
Papa tugged on the reins and held his head high. “What I really enjoyed was the sound of my lovely daughter’s voice.”
Eliana smiled. “I do love to sing, and it was wonderful to hear all those people gathered together to worship. I’m glad we’ll have a church in Lake City next year.”
Papa gave a light snap of the whip. “Come on, Sampson, giddyup. At this rate, it will take us until next week to get to Eureka.”
“Mr. Whiley seems quite smitten with Maria,” Eliana said. “You never know, they might be the first couple to get married in that new church.”
“Trask Whiley married. I’ve heard stranger things,” Papa said.
At last they came to the hill that overlooked the mining town, and Papa pulled the wagon to a stop. Plats of stick houses and log cabins were set in rows near the Sunny Side Mine, built stair-stepped up the mountainside. “This is a good view,” he said. “We’ll set up here. Then we can go down into the town and get pictures there.”
Eliana hopped down from the wagon, tucked her shirt into her trousers, adjusted her suspenders, and checked the buttons of her extra-large vest. She tucked some stray hairs back under her hat. Her shoulder-length hair was tied back with a piece of rawhide. No one could see her here, but it was better to be safe.
Eliana and Papa unloaded their equipment. They set up a stereo camera, which would use wet-glass plates to create stereographs. They’d decided, however, that when they were on the Robbins expedition they’d only use the dry process method. That way there would be no need to develop the pictures in the field, as they would bring the plates home for processing. Nor would they have to worry about glass breaking. Nevertheless, Papa still planned to bring a small, collapsible darkroom, since they would be leaving the wagon behind.
Eliana adjusted the lens of her camera and turned to Papa. “What made you change your mind about Yiska?”
“It troubled me when I learned he knew about your disguise,” Papa said. “I thought his knowing would jeopardize your secret.”
Eliana flattened her lips and listened.
“I’ve been able to get to know Yiska better since then, Sunshine. I would trust him with my life…and yours. In fact, it will probably be good that he does know—he may be able to help protect you.” Papa brushed his hand over his beard. “But I will warn him to keep a proper distance from you.”
Eliana sighed. She supposed Papa was right, but how she longed to spend time with Yiska. If only someone could get word to him in time about the opportunity to work with the Robbins survey. Heavenly Father, in Your way, would You please see to it that Yiska will find out? You know, above all, what this will mean to him.
Men gathered around Yiska and Buck as the trader displayed the bear fur outside Rose’s Cabin. Buck hoped to impress the men enough for someone to make a trade. “It’s a beauty, ain’t it? I traded it with an Injun. Came upon him while he was dressing it and offered to help. Three brown bears had attacked him. Scared two of ’em off, but he shot this one dead, right before it plowed him off a cliff.” Buck looked up at Yiska. “At least that’s what Yiska tells me. He’s the one who shot it!”
The men eyed Yiska up and down.
“What do you say? Can anyone offer me a fair trade or a nugget of gold?” Buck asked.
A man sidled up to Yiska. “Is that story true, young man?”
“More or less,” Yiska said.
“Well then, it’s a good thing I was praying for you. You nearly lost your life.”
Hands in his pockets, Yiska leaned his weight back on one leg and narrowed his eyes. “Beg your pardon?”
“You heard right. Your name’s Yiska, is that right? Yiska Wilcox?” the man asked. “I’ve been waiting for you. I have a message from Trask Whiley.”
Yiska stared at him. “Do you need a guide?”
“No, but I could use a traveling companion on my way down to Silverton. My name’s George Darley.”
The men walked away from the group and stopped to talk under some trees. Yiska took off his hat and brushed the hair from his face. “What’s this message from Whiley?”
“He wants you to go on the Chandler Robbins survey. He said you know the details.”
Yiska broke into a grin. “Thank you. That’s good news.”
“There’s more,” Darley said.
Yiska cocked his head. “What’s that?”
“Mr. Wilson from the San Juan Prospector wants to hire you to be a correspondent during the expedition. Mr. Whiley was in full support. Mr. Van Horn thought it was a good idea as well. They both were concerned that you get the good news in time, in case you missed Van Horn in Silverton.” Darley smiled. “There was also a pretty young lady there who was hoping very much that I’d meet up with you.”
Eliana. Yiska shook the man’s hand. “Thank you, Mr. Darley.”
“My pleasure.” Darley smiled. “They gave me the message, and I’ve been praying for you ever since.”
Yiska blinked. “Praying, you say. I’ve been doing a little of that myself.”
“By the looks of that bear skin, I’d say you’d be crazy not to.”
Chapter 12
Yiska traveled with Mr. Darley southwest through the hilly countryside on horseback. How he ended up traveling with a preacher was beyond him. Yiska expected to hear sermons for miles on end, but Darley entertained him with tales of his journeys. He showed genuine interest in Yiska’s travels as well. When Darley did mention God, it was in a natural way that didn’t bother Yiska. Darley didn’t scold the way Trask’s father did back when Yiska worked at his trading post. Instead, Mr. Darley spoke of God as an old friend. Someone he respected and trusted. A traveling companion.
High in the hills, the two dismounted to stretch their legs and rest for a bit. They walked to the edge of a bluff and admired the way the mountains hugged the river below. Although some ice still encrusted its edge, the river flowed freely, and the flora hinted summer was on its way. Yiska took off his gloves and stuffed them in his coat pockets. “It’s been a mild spring. The weather’s on our side.”
Mr. Darley loosened his scarf. “Do you remember that fierce snowstorm in May a few years back?”
“Sure do.”
“I’ll never forget it,” Mr. Darley said. “I set out for Silverton across the old San Juan Trail after preaching at Hell’s Acre. I went with Gus Talbot, the mail carrier, that day. No different than any other. When we got to Burrows Park, away from the timberline, we had to snow-shoe it over the range, since the thaw was late. The clouds gathered, and if we quit walking, we were likely to freeze to death.” Darley looked out over the mountaintops, shielding his eyes from the sun. “The snow came down hard. We could barely see to put one foot in front of the other. Both of us stepped right off a steep cliff, tumbled twenty feet do
wn into the gulch. If the Lord didn’t hear me call out to Him then, I would’ve supposed He was deaf.”
“I’m beginning to think He does listen,” Yiska said.
“I lived to tell about it, didn’t I?” Mr. Darley grinned.
“I’ve asked for His help three times lately—when they threw me in jail for saving Miss Van Horn, when our stagecoach was attacked by renegade Utes, and during my run-in with the bears.” Yiska remained quiet for a moment. “Why God would answer me, I don’t know. Maybe others were praying and He heard them instead.”
“That’s an interesting thought. I’ve often wondered the same thing.”
“You? But you’re doing God’s work.”
“True. Though it’s not the work we do that gets His attention. It’s a humble heart that seeks Him.” Darley folded his arms across his chest and looked Yiska in the eye. “He hears us because of His love for us, nothing more. Doesn’t matter how loudly we call out to Him. Like when I shouted out during that blizzard. He heard me all right, but I have no doubt He was also attentive to the quiet prayers of a dear old lady who had it on her heart to pray for me during that storm.”
“How’d she know you were in trouble?” Yiska asked.
“She saw me travel past her cabin on the old wagon road that day. Being the first woman in these parts, she knew the weather well and noticed how the clouds hung around the mountain peaks to the west. She grew concerned and prayed for my safety. A year later I saw her at a meeting, and she told me she’d never forget that terrible storm. I promptly agreed with her. She said she had it on her heart to pray for me until the storm let up, knowing I wouldn’t relent until I reached my destination. I nearly wept when she told me.”
Yiska thought about how he almost went on his own trek to Silverton, eager to conduct his interview after helping those miners up by Stony Pass. Had he done so, he would’ve missed the news about being hired as correspondent for the survey. And, by some miracle, he had survived the bear attack and made it up to Rose’s Cabin, where Mr. Darley waited for him. Yet when Darley greeted him he said, “I’ve been praying for you, young man.”
Yiska swallowed hard. He recalled the words Mrs. Whiley spoke to him when he left her home. “God go with you. Remember that He is as close as a prayer.” He’d appreciated the kind words, but hadn’t understood what they meant. Now he saw that the God they believed in was real. Perhaps this God even cared for him.
Yiska whisked a yellow jacket from his sleeve. A memory of Eliana the last night he had seen her came to his mind—of her in his buckskin coat. After taking it from her shoulders, he’d wrapped her in his arms and kissed her on the cheek. In turn she whispered in his ear, “I’ll keep you in my prayers, Yiska. Be well.” Her sentiment meant far more now.
The preacher continued. “I’ve learned it’s one thing to call on God in urgent times, still another to trust Him daily on the path of life.”
“Mr. Darley, you already know how to get to Silverton. Why’d you take me as a guide?”
Darley looked at Yiska as if amused. “Who’s to say I’m not your guide for this part of the journey?”
Yiska smiled and shook his head. He looked out over the gorge and upward, holding the brim of his hat. He pointed to an eagle flying overhead.
“Magnificent creature,” Darley said.
“They make it look so easy to soar on the wind like that.”
“Perhaps it is, given the right conditions.”
“Perhaps it is.”
Eliana shifted her hips on the hard bench as the wagon jostled down the winding road toward Howardsville. The prosperous town hosted rows of storefronts and a multitude of cabins, unlike most of the other mining towns with merely a spattering of buildings. Papa had stopped whistling hours ago, a sign he was weary, too.
The white mule came to a complete stop. After an arduous trek over crude roads that wound their way around the Arastra Gulch mines, Sampson was exhausted.
Eliana exhaled, climbed down from the wagon, and took hold of his halter, urging him forward with a bit of sugar. “Just a little farther, boy.” Once he resumed a sluggish pace, she hoisted herself back up beside Papa.
Although the late afternoon sun hid behind the clouds, she felt rather warm and unbuttoned her coat. Then she sneezed.
“Don’t you catch a cold now, Sunshine,” Papa said. “We don’t need you pulling to a stop, too.”
“It’s the dust, Papa,” she said. Or was it? Lord, please don’t let me get sick.
Papa eyed her suspiciously. “We’ll spend the night here and head down to Silverton the day after tomorrow.”
“Day after tomorrow?” Eliana frowned. “We’re so close. Shouldn’t we be there already?” Sneezing again, she grabbed a handkerchief from her pocket.
“No need to worry. We’ve plenty of time yet, and Sampson isn’t the only one that needs a rest.”
“If we must.” Eliana worried her lip.
“It’s not like my Eli to pout,” Papa teased. “I heard the hotel here pays special attention to women. It’s unfortunate that they won’t know you are one.”
“Regardless, I intend to take a nice long bath and wash my hair—what little of it I have left.” She reached back and adjusted the short ponytail behind her head. It had been nice to let it grow during the winter, but it was better this way for her disguise.
“Unlike you, seems like each winter that goes by I have less of my own to worry about.” Papa chuckled.
“What do you mean? You still have a good head of hair.” She lifted his hat from his head and set it back again and laughed.
Papa scratched his beard. “I think it’s finding a new location on my chin. Speaking of which, did you bring some extra charcoal to darken your jaw?”
“Yes, Papa. I’ve thought of everything.”
The following day, word got around that a photographer was in town, so Van Horn Photography set up shop in the hotel lobby. Papa spent the afternoon making tintypes for customers. Eliana remained upstairs in her room to nurse her cold—Papa’s orders. Checking on her often, he brought her chicken soup and ginger root tea. She passed the time reading her Bible, napping, and dreaming of Yiska.
She awoke the next morning with renewed energy. Her head began to clear. But raucous burros had brayed half the night, disturbing Papa’s sleep. The songsters corralled next to the hotel hadn’t bothered her at all. Papa had agreed to photograph the town buildings that morning, so Eliana offered to lend a hand.
“But you’ve hardly had time to recover.” Papa yawned.
“I believe I’m more revived than you after that midnight serenade.” Eliana ignored further protests and headed to the livery to fetch Sampson and the wagon.
After the productive morning, the mayor treated them to a wonderful meal of roast wild turkey and sweet potatoes at the Hungry Burro—though Papa didn’t find the name of the restaurant amusing in the least.
That afternoon, the gradual descent into the valley of Silverton proved much easier on Sampson, and on the Van Horns. Eliana admired the snow-crowned mountaintops and the valley cloaked in green.
“The Silver Queen.” She sighed. “How pleasant to meet you, your majesty.” Have you seen my handsome prince?
Papa left the mule hitched outside the Earl Hotel while he and his “son” took their baggage inside. Eliana didn’t mind playing the role but had to keep her awe in check when she saw the splendor of the beautiful hotel where they would spend the next few days.
When they went back outside, a crowd surged down the boardwalk. An old fellow plowed into Eliana. With nothing but a “Pardon me, lad,” he continued on his way.
“What’s all the commotion?” Papa asked a passerby.
“There’s a preacher in town. Called a meeting at the Last Call Saloon.”
“It must be Reverend Darley,” Eliana said. Would he have news of Yiska?
“That’s no place for a…for you.” Papa caught his near miss when someone walked by. “Bring Sampson and the wagon ove
r to the livery, Eli, and then you can go back to the hotel and relax. I’d like to hear Reverend Darley preach. And I’ll find out if he got word to Yiska.”
Disappointed, she untied Sampson, climbed aboard, and took the reins. “I’ll see you back at the hotel.”
After delivering the wagon and mule, she stepped outside the livery and shoved her hands into her pockets. She looked down the road at the mob entering one of the saloons. It wasn’t fair that she couldn’t go hear the reverend preach, but no reputable woman would dare set foot in a place called the Last Call Saloon. Then again, “Eli” Van Horn could go in her stead. She dusted the dirt from her sleeves and swaggered down the street.
With her shoulders held back, Eliana stepped into the saloon and made her way through the throng of men and unfamiliar odors. Every nook filled with eager men waiting to hear what the minister had to say, whether out of sincerity or curiosity. At the far end of the long room she saw Papa. She’d keep to the rear, well out of his view. She shuffled past men of all ages, some in day suits, but most in work clothes. A voluptuous woman in a knee-length, low-cut dress of red satin and black lace pushed past her. Eliana found a barrel in the corner and hopped up. Even so, she could only get an intermittent glimpse of Reverend Darley as the crowd shifted around her. But at least she could hear the message.
Dice scattered on the floor as Reverend Darley rallied an audience by pounding his fist on a faro table. “Gentlemen, such a fine day to meet with you. I appreciate your taking a break from gambling to hear the Word of the good Lord.”
As Darley surveyed his murmuring audience, Eliana scanned the sea of hats before her. She hoped to catch sight of a certain dented one, but she knew it was unlikely that Yiska would patronize a saloon, even if he was in town.
Darley extended his hand, revealing a silver piece. The crowd hushed. “I found this Spanish coin along the Old Spanish Trail. I thought I’d discovered silver when I saw it sparkle in the sunlight. It was silver all right, but I was fooled. What I found was evidence that men have searched for treasure in these parts for centuries.” He lowered the volume of his voice, and all paid careful attention. “Folks have found coins and tools left by the Spaniards when they mined these very mountains. Many of those places remain hidden, because they were without the means to mine the lode in this dangerous place. Nor did they want to pay the king his royal fifth.” A few in the assembly chuckled. “Indians buried the mines because they valued land more than mineral. Today we have but legends and hearty souls like you.”
Love's Compass Page 10
