In the Land of Gold

by Angela Christina Archer

  He pulled the last of the sausages off the stick, dropping them on his plate. While they cooled, he popped a chicken liver in his mouth and patted his stomach as he happily chewed.

  “I’m not eating them.” I flicked the pieces of meat to the other side of my plate.

  “You’re going to get sick,” he warned with raised eyebrows.

  I ignored him. “So you moved here from…?” I pressed with a smirk on my face.

  He shifted his weight and looked away, his lips twisted in an uncomfortable grimace.

  “Must have been fun living in a couple different places. I mean, from where ever you came from, and now here. I’ve never lived anywhere other than Seattle.”

  He nodded, but didn’t utter another word.

  Minutes ticked by, one by one, and then five by five. The fire sparked and popped as the smoke drifted into the air. At times, a gentle breeze would blow a puff into my face, and then whisked it away just as quickly.

  One by one, the sausages on both our plates disappeared, and though I secretly wished for more, I wasn’t about to break our silence.

  “Never really fancied mining coal,” he finally said, finishing his last bite. “The dust was the worst part. Every man who worked the mines got sick with the lung infection. The dust stuck to every inch of exposed skin, and was impossible to wash off.”

  “And, you mined coal in…?” My amused voice hinted my curiosity.

  He chuckled. “In Ohio. My skin would get raw from scrubbing, and yet, I’d still be coal-dust gray. Mining was decent money, but when a group decided to head up here to get into fur trading, I gathered every dime I had and left with them.”

  “You weren’t interested in gold?”

  “Nah, fur was the gold back then, fur and sled dogs. Damn dogs. I hated every single one of them.”

  “How can you hate dogs?” I laughed at his sideways, amused glance that said his reasons should have been obvious.

  “Always with their incessant howling and they’d eat everything in sight—harnesses, gun straps, brushes, boots, gloves. One even ate a lit candle, flame and all.”

  “Perhaps, they were simply hungry.”

  “I suppose they really weren’t bad, just annoying more than anything.”

  “So your love for dogs steered you toward guiding stampeeders, then?” I mocked.

  “After a few years, I landed in Circle City, providing gold miners with winter blankets and warm clothes. Never cared for that town, either. No law, no jail, no sheriff, just a bunch of men who’d flocked there to be left alone and did as they pleased.”

  “Sounds very . . . pleasant.”

  He smirked at his own thoughts. “One night a man named Johnson came into the saloon. He was already angry, but the more he drank the angrier he got. Finally, he started shouting, waving his arms all around before he took out his knife and cut his own throat.”

  “What happened to him?” My hand covered my mouth in astonishment.

  “The fool was too drunk and did a bad job of it. So we patched him up and told him he could try again when he was sober. He never tried again, and grew a beard to hide his scar. Men nicknamed him Cut-Throat Johnson after that.”

  “What an awful story.”

  Flynn laughed. “Yeah. Of course, as more men struck gold, the town grew, but rumors about massive strikes along the Bonanza and Eldorado Creeks left Circle City a ghost town. That’s when I decided to make some money as a guide. When I’ve got enough saved, I’ll stake a claim somewhere.”

  “Sounds like quite the adventure.”

  “I suppose,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Just trying to make my way in this country.”

  “Have you lived anywhere else? Other than Ohio?”

  The light in his eyes dimmed, replaced with a cold, dark grimace. He cleared his throat, gathered all of our dishes, and walked off without a word. I almost called after him, but thought better of it and let him go.

  The fire continued to burn down to a pile of logs that looked more like hot coals than wood—black on the ends and charred to a light gray in the middle.

  “Can I help you with anything?” I finally inquired.

  He shook his head.

  By the time he finished packing away the supplies, he still hadn’t said a single word. Silence grew thicker between us until sitting on the log and waiting for him to speak was too much to bear.

  “I think I will turn in for the night.” I rose to my feet, hoping he’d ask me to stay.

  He nodded in my direction without lifting his gaze.

  After taking a few steps, I turned to face him, unable to ignore the distance in his eyes. “Flynn, I didn’t mean to pry. I shouldn’t have asked about your past and where you’ve lived. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s all right, Cora.”

  “I just don’t want you to think I’m trying to be nosy. Surely, you have your reasons, and if you don’t wish to tell me I should respect that, and—”

  “Good night, Cora.”

  His interruption was abrupt, yet kind, even if his intent was to tell me to mind my own business. My cheeks burned. My incessant need to forge some awkward apology had only made the situation worse.

  I pinched my arm, punishing myself and mumbled the words I should have said. “Good night, Flynn.”

  Chapter 15

  The next morning, I stood in the middle of Flynn’s tent, peeling the muddy dried clothes from my skin. The disgusting stench of sweat and blackened, debris-laced mud gagged me, making my mouth water and my stomach mock me with its hinted intention of emptying my breakfast on the ground.

  “Cora,” Flynn called out. Before I could answer, he lifted the canvas flap and stuck his head in the tent.

  “Get out,” I shrieked, grabbing for a blanket to cover my naked body. “Have you no decency? Ask before you just poke your head in the tent.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Time to get going.”

  “To leave? But, I’m not dressed or packed, and—”

  “No, no, I decided we should probably rest another day.” He looked at me for a second. His amused expression annoyed me, as he sniffed the air. “Besides, we need to get yeh cleaned up. Bears and wolves will be able to smell yeh from miles away.”

  “What an incredibly rude thing to say. I do not smell.” I denied his accusation even though we both knew it was true.

  Without thinking, I picked up my boot and pitched it across the tent at his head. He laughed and ducked so that it missed him by several inches.

  “You can just bring my water in here, Mr. O’Neill when it’s ready.”

  “Bring what water?”

  His confused expression caught me off guard, tightening my gut with the profound notion I wasn’t going to like where this conversation was headed.

  “The bucket of water . . . just like you’ve done several times before.”

  He laughed and my heart thumped a hard beat. “Um, no, yeh need to bathe in the river.”

  “In the river?” My voice hit an octave I didn’t know was possible. “But, it’s cold.”

  He rolled his eyes and threw down a blanket and a chunk of soap at my feet. “A pot of hot water ain’t going to get that thick of mud off yeh. And, I can’t let yeh go alone or else yeh might become a right tasty breakfast tart for a bear.”

  My breath caught in my throat. “I never want to be alone in the forest, ever again.”

  He smiled, then looked from the soap to me. “Well then, lass, let’s get going.”

  “Let me dress first,” I groaned in irritation.

  “Why? You’ll just have to get undressed by the river. You’re already wrapped up, so just follow me. And, bring yeh clothes, so we can wash them up, too.”

  “But,” I shouted after him as his head disap
peared from my tent.

  “Yes, Cora?”

  “Is anyone out there?”

  His sigh was audible. “No. We’re completely alone.”

  Grimacing, I wrapped the blanket around my body, and scooped up my dirty clothes along with the other blanket and soap. After slipping my feet into my boots, I tiptoed out of the tent, and scanned the area for a passing stampeeder.

  “Oh, for the love of Christ, no one is here. Not for miles.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  Having set up camp near the river, the torture of knowingly walking naked, shielded only by a thin blanket, lasted just a few dozen feet. Of course, even the short distance still proved difficult. I tripped several times on the tail ends of the blanket, nearly exposing myself beyond all hope of redemption.

  Flynn glanced over his shoulder, smiling at me with a look that partly annoyed me and partly made me trip even more.

  I don’t like him. I don’t like him. I don’t like him.

  Raging water flowed over the rocks, pooling below a waterfall. The gray, jagged rocks appeared almost black in the bright sun, especially with the intensely green moss growing on the damp granite.

  Even in winter, when everything slept in hibernation or lay frozen beneath the dew that never seemed to thaw, the life in the plants didn’t die.

  Set back away from the trail, out of eyesight to the common passerby, the majestic richness brought a fairytale-like feel. A beautiful seduction toying with your emotions and drawing you into such a magical place, you wondered if it, or yourself, was real.

  Enclosed by tall pines, the dark brown bark played off the other colors, adding to the deepness of each hue, and resonating in my soul. I could almost forget where I was, who I was with, and that I stood naked under the blanket.

  As the blanket loosened around my shoulders, the cooler air tickled my skin, relaxing my tension.

  Flynn cleared his throat.

  Catching his eye, he nodded, cleared his throat once more, and looked away. I glanced down. Mortified to my soul, the blanket had slipped a little too far, exposing my bare chest.

  Oh, dear Lord.

  I jerked the blanket back up to my neck with my sweaty hands, silently cursing under my breath.

  Hiding his smile as best he could, though it was obvious, Flynn fetched my mud caked clothes from my arms and tossed them into a shallow section of the pool. “I’ll get these cleaned, yeh just worry about yourself.”

  He skinned out of his shirt with one swift movement. My eyes darted away, fixating on the ground instead his perfectly chiseled chest, his broad shoulders, and muscled arms that had carried me over difficult parts of the trail.

  Butterflies in my stomach fluttered wildly, mocking me. I couldn’t ignore them no matter how hard I tried. Too many times, I had thought of his warmth, thought about what his body looked like under his flannel shirts, and finally seeing him only confirmed that my imagination hadn’t done him justice.

  “Yeh can take the pool up there.” He stepped closer and pointed toward a rock on the side of the waterfall.

  I followed his aim, but out of the corner of my eye, traced each and every muscle in his outstretched arm. Knowing now what would be wrapped around me, should he ever have to carry me again, stole rational thought. What has been seen cannot be unseen.

  “And, I’ll be down here.” He leaned closer to me, his lips inches from my ear as he whispered. “And, for the sake of Pete, don’t be getting any ideas, Cora. I’m a gentleman, after all.” The twinkle in his eye gave way to his tease, and he let go of his pants, letting them fall to the ground.

  I gasped, spun on my heel, and fled upriver.

  “No offense, Cora, but yeh really need to have some fun in life.”

  His wicked chuckle burned my pride, and then I heard a huge splash as his body plunged into the pool. Heat rushed to the shell of my ears, but I dared not risk peeking.

  “Wahoo! The water is cold, cold, cold. Feels kind of nice.”

  Ignoring him, I traced the narrow path in between rocks and trees to the higher pool. Mist sprayed from the waterfall, mocking me with its coldness and feeding on my dread. The only thought that kept me going was of clean skin. Cold, clean skin, but clean, nonetheless, and finally devoid of the itchy mud.

  Clear to the bottom, the upper pool looked only a few feet deep, certainly, deep enough to sit in, but not enough I could completely submerge. Rocks lined around the pool, giving it seclusion from view in several different directions.

  I glanced down at Flynn, who had his back to me and was washing his hair.

  The paleness of his snow like skin nearly shined against the gray rocks and green moss. His physical strength was deliciously noticeable. Each perfectly carved muscle moved effortlessly as he scrubbed himself clean.

  Stop looking, Cora.

  I shook my head and focused on the pool of clear, cold water. Glancing around for a dry spot, I set the soap and blanket down on the edge of the water and untied my hair, releasing the bun, and letting the mud caked strands fall free.

  Nothing but a matted mess, the grit irritated my scalp, made worse by scratching at the dried clumps.

  I loosened my hold on the blanket and tested the stream with my toes, quickly yanking my foot back. The icy-water stole my breath and robbed all other thought from my mind except for the one about how cold the water felt.

  Was he delusional?

  “Yeh about done up there?” Flynn shouted.

  Drat.

  “Um, no. I haven’t even gotten in.”

  “Well, hurry up. After I finish, I’m scrubbing your clothes. Once those are done, I’m heading back to camp. Can’t be out here too long without the warmth of a fire.”

  I peeked around the rock wall and met his smiling gaze as he faced me. His skin glistened with a soapy residue. The definition in his perfect chest muscles continued all the way down his stomach, past his belly button and into the water.

  He disappeared under the water, sluicing the soap from his skin. The suds bubbled and drifted in the waves, vanishing as they floated down the river.

  Dread consumed me as I looked back at my own pool. Left with no other choice, I threw off the blanket, inhaled a deep breath, and jumped in.

  “Aaiiieee!” A thousand needles stuck every inch of my skin. Bitter cold closed in on me, threatening suffocation, and numbing all other sensation. My scream echoed through the trees, scaring a couple of birds who fled the safety of the branches, and Flynn laughed.

  “You’ll get used to it the longer you’re in it,” he shouted.

  My hands trembled as I grabbed the soap and quickly rubbed it into a sudsy lather all over my body. The shaking increased so much that the bar slipped from my fingers and drifted into the depths of the pool, taunting me as I used my toes to retrieve it.

  The crystal-clear water turned murky as the caked-on mud rinsed away. Although cold as ice, the bitter sting of freedom brought relief.

  Dunking my head last, my hair took the longest. Having grown a few inches and now down to my waist, the thick natural waves proved more defiant than usual—taking three cleansings before finally rinsing clean.

  My teeth chattered, my fingers and toes grew numb, and by the time I reached for my blanket, the notion of ever feeling warm again vanished like a good dream I’d never sleep through for the rest of my life.

  Climbing out of the pool, the cold air whipped across my wet skin, and my body started to shake uncontrollably. With nearly frozen fingers, I wrapped my body in the cotton blanket, afraid to move.

  Steam from my breath clouded my vision and my lungs fought for each inhale and exhale.

  “I’ll build yeh a fire the moment we return,” Flynn’s melodically rolled ‘r’s sounded in my ear. Surprised, I turned to face him and nearly fell, havi
ng lost the feeling in my legs. He caught me with his strong arms that only minutes ago captured every ounce of my attention, and helped me regain my balance.

  “I guess yeh aren’t used to cold baths.” His laugh held a whisper of concern. He picked up the other blanket and cocooned it around me, covering the top of my head. “And, with the fire, I’ll make yeh some nice hot coffee.”

  I nodded, but my chattering spoke for me.

  He chuckled, and offered his hand for me to take. “Let’s get yeh back to camp.”

  My eyes traced his fingers, and I hesitated for a moment. Two voices warred inside my head. One yelled no, while the other roared yes—both battling one another while they shouted.

  I silenced the feud by listening to the one who spoke to my heart, to what I truly wanted.

  I reached for his hand. His warm fingers intertwined with mine and he smiled, leading me back through the trees to our campsite.

  Chapter 16

  “Welcome to the summit, Cora.” Flynn stood next to a tree with his arm stretched out raising a branch to expose the view as I approached.

  Breathing hard, I hiked the last few steps to his side, struggling with every step. The same worried expression I’d seen on Flynn’s face, countless times in the last several days, stared back at me.

  I shot him a silencing glance and he looked away. Any more pity and my emotional strength would break. If he thought I didn’t know what he suspected, and didn’t suspect it myself, he was a fool.

  My skin had grown rough in patches, easily bruised with the slightest bump, and my teeth began to hurt. Growing weaker every day, my exhaustion crippled me more and more, hindering our progress.