In the Shadow of the Mountains

by Rosanne Bittner

  Ten more months passed—fourteen months since Kirk had left Bea in San Francisco. It was July of 1851 when she heard footsteps on the porch outside the cabin. Bea looked up from her ironing. Every bone in her body ached, her arms, her legs, her back. She was thin but hard-muscled from so much work.

  There was a knock at the door. “Bea? You in there? It’s me—Kirk.”

  She put a hand to her heart, setting the heavy iron on a plate. She hesitated, a myriad of emotions rushing through her. She loved him, and she hated him. She was glad he was back and was all right, and she wished he had never come back at all.

  The children were sleeping. She was glad of that, wanting to see him alone first. She managed to make her legs move, suddenly realizing how frazzled she must look. Her dark hair was carelessly shoved into a bun, but pieces of it had strayed and hung limply about her face. She managed to get to the door, and opened it, almost gasping at the sight of him.

  He was thinner himself, and fully bearded again. Their eyes met, each of them surveying the other sorrowfully. “It was a hard winter, Bea. I couldn’t get back.” His eyes moved over her, then scanned the cabin. “I was afraid I’d come back and find you all starved to death or something.” His eyes actually watered. “But I guess I should have known my Bea would find a way to survive. You’re a hell of a woman, Bea. I’m sorry for all of it. I said I’d never abandon you or the kids, and I didn’t. I just couldn’t get back.”

  His voice rang with emotion. But they were like strangers again. “I’m glad you’re all right,” Bea told him. “I thought maybe you were…dead.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t know how glad I am to find you and the children alive and well.” He glanced over at the big bed in a corner of the main room, where all three children slept together. “They are all right, aren’t they?”

  She sighed, wanting to hug him, wanting to hit him. “Yes.”

  An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. “Bea,” he finally spoke up, “I’m going to make it up to you, just like I promised.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes shiny with tears. “I don’t want to hear it any more, Kirk. I’m tired. I’m sick. I want to go back to St. Louis.”

  He smiled suddenly, his own eyes damp. “You don’t understand, Bea.” He had not even come all the way inside yet. He stepped farther into the room and closed the door. “I found it, Bea! I found the mother lode, and I’ve laid claim to it!”

  She just stared at him, letting the news sink in as he removed his hat and hung it on a hook. She was so tired she couldn’t think straight. She had hated him, had worked herself to exhaustion to build her savings so she could have a good life. Now here he was telling her he had actually struck it rich, something she had never truly believed could happen.

  “It’s…true?” she asked.

  He took her arms, realizing she looked ready to pass out. “It’s true. Come sit down, Bea.” He led her to a rocker and placed her in it, then took a chair across from her, pulling it close so that he could talk softly and not wake the children.

  “I know it must have been a hard winter for you, Bea, but I wasn’t just sitting around up there watching the snow. I’ve worked hard, too, damn hard. I came near to freezing to death a couple of times. But I kept telling myself I had to find that vein—for you and the kids. I made you promises, and I meant to keep them. I had decided I wasn’t coming back here without being able to tell you I’d found the mother lode. I can sell my claim for—”

  “No!” She nearly startled him with the fierce reaction. “Don’t sell it. That’s what all the prospectors do. I’ve seen it happen over and over again since I’ve been here. Men find the gold, then sell it to developers who turn around and make a fortune. It’s ours, Kirk. We’ve both been through hell these past two years. We deserve to get every penny out of that mine that we can.”

  He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “That takes a lot of money, Bea. I could never break enough gold out of there fast enough to make that kind of money any time soon.”

  She smiled proudly. “I have money, Kirk. I made it taking in laundry, as much as I could handle. I’ve worked myself nearly to death, but I’ve saved up twelve thousand dollars in gold coins, nuggets and gold dust. It’s all buried right under this house.”

  His eyes widened in shock. “Twelve thousand dollars!”

  “I was going to invest it in something that would mean I didn’t have to work so hard, find a way to multiply the money so the children could live better. I…didn’t know if you’d come back. I was afraid, after the way I treated you…maybe you had deserted us…or maybe you were dead.”

  He met her concerned gaze. “Is that all the faith you have in me?” he asked. “I told you before we married that I’d never desert you.”

  A tear slid down one cheek. “Sometimes a person makes promises he can’t keep. You’re a wandering man, David Kirkland. You were up there in the mountains, where you love to be, and when you left, I wasn’t very kind to you.”

  Kirk shook his head. “You had good reason. That look on your face when I left, that’s part of the reason I was determined not to come back until I could tell you I was a rich man. I was afraid maybe you’d pack your bags and head back to St. Louis.”

  She breathed deeply to keep from crying. “I thought about it. But deep inside I guess I knew you’d come, for Irene if for nothing else.”

  He leaned forward in his chair. “Bea, I love all of you. You’ve been a good wife. You’ve put up with so much. Now I can make up for it.” He reached across and took her hands. “Twelve thousand dollars?” He looked down at her swollen, callused knuckles. “My God, Bea.” He leaned down and kissed them. “You’ll never work that hard again. That’s a promise.”

  She pulled her hands away. Why, whenever she felt passion or wanted to cry, did she shut off her feelings? She felt so afraid of loving too much and losing it all. She rose from the rocker and began to pace the room. “We can do it, Kirk. We can work that mine ourselves. Why sell it and let someone else reap the profits?”

  She turned and faced him, her eyes alight. “As soon as we get a little more ahead, we’ll buy up other claims from the fools who are willing to sell too quickly. We’ll develop them ourselves, build our own processing plants, stamp mills. I’ve learned a lot just from listening to the miners talk. I’m sure you have, too.”

  He listened to her, realizing sadly that the one most important thing to Bea Kirkland was being wealthy. It didn’t matter so much to him, but it did to Bea, and he felt guilty for the hell he had put her through. She had married him on blind faith, and she had loved little Irene just as she had promised. If being rich was so damn important to her, he would do what he could to help her get there.

  She came over and knelt in front of him. “Kirk, if we work as a team, we can have more money than we ever dreamed of! You know mining, and I have learned a lot about saving and investing. You could handle the mechanics, do more prospecting, check out other claims that are for sale. You’d know what’s worth buying and what isn’t. I could handle the bookwork, keep track of our earnings and such.” She searched his blue eyes. “Is it true, Kirk? Is it really true?”

  He grinned, happy to hear the joy in her voice. “It’s true. It’s a rich vein, Bea, a really big find. I haven’t told too many about it yet.” He touched her hair, relieved that this time she did not pull away. “You look so tired, Bea. I don’t ever want you working like this again. We’ll try it your way. We’ll mine that gold ourselves, and you’ll have that fine home I promised you. The kids will have everything.”

  She looked at his own work-worn hands. “I’m glad you’re all right, Kirk.”

  He sighed deeply, kissing her forehead. “I’d like to celebrate, but I’m too damn tired, and I know you must be too. Let’s just go to bed for now and get some sleep. We’ll talk about all this in the morning.”

  She nodded, rising and walking behind the curtain that covered the doorway to their small bedroom. Kirk remov
ed his boots, then got up and walked over to where the children slept. He watched them without a word, amazed at how they had grown. His heart ached that he’d been away from them for so long. He leaned across the bed and gave each of them a kiss—little Elly, nearly two; John, who was three and a half; and Irene, five years old now, and getting prettier all the time.

  Irene woke up and yawned, looking up at her father with sleepy eyes. “Daddy,” she whispered, reaching up for him. He picked her up and hugged her tightly. “Will you stay home now?” she asked him.

  “Yes, baby, I’ll stay home.” Again he thought about her brother, wondering if the boy was still alive and healthy. He missed his Indian friends, missed the Rockies and the Great Plains. “You go back to sleep now and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Irene obeyed. She was an easy child, never demanding, always doing what she was told. She gave him a smile that nearly melted his heart. Kirk covered her and patted her head, thinking how good his life was turning out after all. Gold! He had found gold, and lots of it. Finally, he could give Bea what she had always wanted.

  He went into the bedroom. Bea was already in bed. She looked at him strangely as he undressed. “I already took care of my horse,” he told her. “I left a lot of things at the campsite. I’ll have to go back up, you know.”

  “I know,” she answered quietly, “but this time it will be for a better reason.”

  He climbed into bed, and she moved far over to the side of the bed. Kirk hesitated, meeting her eyes before turning out the lamp. “What’s wrong?”

  She swallowed. “It’s been a long time, Kirk. You’re…almost like a stranger again.”

  He needed his wife. He wanted to hold her, make love to her. In the fourteen months he had been gone, he had not turned to any of the whores in the mining camps. “I’ve been faithful to you, Bea.”

  She reached out and touched his hand. “I believe you, Kirk. I just…it’s too soon. And we have to be careful. This isn’t a good time to have any more children. We have a lot of work ahead of us, Kirk.”

  He sighed, turning out the lamp. “I know. I’ll give you some time.” He settled into the bed.

  “Kirk,” Bea spoke up in the darkness. “We can stay here now, can’t we? I mean, once we get rich, we can build a big house and never have to make another long, dangerous journey. San Francisco is growing, and we can grow with it. I want to stay in one place now, Kirk.”

  A wolf howled in the distance, and Kirk thought about the Rockies, about a boy called Yellow Eagle. “We’ll stay,” he answered, a dull ache in his chest. He willed himself quickly to sleep so that he would not be tempted to pull her to him, to make her do what she wasn’t ready for yet. Bea had never expressed much passion, and he realized their sex life would never be perfect. But she was a good woman, and a hard-working, faithful wife. There were certain things he would simply have to accept.

  He was soon asleep, but weary as she was, Bea could not make her eyes close. Kirk had struck a mother lode! They would be rich! Her mind whirled with plans and schemes to make their money multiply. She finally fell asleep dreaming how she would word her letter to Cynthia when she wrote her cousin about her new found fortune.

  Chapter Four

  March 1859

  Bea led Irene into the parlor of the two-story frame house Kirk had built for her. It sat high on a hill overlooking the growing city of San Francisco. A porch surrounded the entire house, and roses bloomed along the curved brick drive that graced the Kirkland’s front lawn.

  Kirk looked up from his favorite easy chair, where he had been smoking a pipe while he read an article about the discovery of gold in the Rockies. Irene’s heart filled with joy at the sight of him, for her father was not often home. It seemed he was constantly at the mines, sometimes staying there all night. Her mother spent her days poring over ledgers and going to the bank, while the children were cared for by a servant.

  “Father,” Irene exclaimed, rushing up to him.

  “Now, now, be careful of your new dress,” Bea warned. “That’s what we’ve come here to show your father.”

  Kirk grinned and set his pipe and paper aside. He reached out and gave his elder daughter a hug. “I didn’t know if you would come,” Irene told him.

  “You didn’t really think I’d forget your birthday, did you?” He rose, walking around her then as she blushed and turned in a circle for him. Kirk shook his head. “Thirteen already. And look at you. You’re a young lady, Irene, not a little girl.”

  “She’s the most beautiful young lady in San Francisco,” Bea said proudly.

  Irene smiled, always a little embarrassed at such remarks. Ten-year-old Elly, who had sneaked downstairs behind her mother and sister, peeked around the doorway, watching jealously. She didn’t like her sister very much. Irene was prettier, and most certainly her father’s pet. Because she was older, she got more privileges; and now that she was turning thirteen, their mother was having a special party for her.

  Elly turned away, hating her own dark hair and eyes and her big-boned body. She was built like her mother and had her mother’s coloring. Much as she loved Bea, she also resented her for her own looks, as though it was all Bea’s fault her second daughter was not as pretty as her first. She wondered if her awkward body would ever fill out and take on her sister’s pretty curves. It was not that she cared much for men or pretty dresses right now, but she realized someday she would consider them important. It hurt to think how often her mother’s friends remarked how pretty Irene was but never had any kind words for Elly.

  Elly often wondered why Irene had inherited her father’s light hair and eyes. And why were there some things about her that did not resemble either parent, like her high cheekbones and slender shape? Bea and Kirk both were tall, big-boned people, and she and her brother John were built the same way. John was only eleven, going on twelve, but he looked more like fifteen.

  In the parlor Kirk admired his daughter. She was indeed uncommonly beautiful, and he knew why. He had seen other children of mixed blood, and it seemed that more often than not they inherited the best features of both races. He imagined Yellow Eagle was a very handsome young man by now. “You are the most beautiful creature God ever created,” he said to Irene.

  “Oh, Father, you just say that because I’m your daughter,” she answered.

  “He says it because it’s true,” Bea told her. “Isn’t it a lovely dress, Kirk?” She walked up to Irene, fluffing the shower of ruffles down the skirt of the soft green taffeta dress. The ruffles billowed over Irene’s new hooped petticoat. “It’s the latest fashion. She’s going to wear it for her party this afternoon.” The words seemed familiar, and suddenly Bea remembered a similar occasion thirteen years ago—the day Aunt Marlene came into the store to show off Cynthia’s new dress.

  Bea smiled at her victory. She and Kirk were rich now, wealthier than her Uncle Jake could ever hope to be. She had been sure to write to her aunt and uncle in “loving concern,” telling them about her new wealth, her handsome children, the fine home Kirk had built for her in the fast-rising city of San Francisco.

  Bea had already decided this home was only temporary. She was planning to build a much bigger one, a mansion that would make people stop in wonder when they passed it.

  “Will you take me riding tomorrow, Father? It’s been so long since we went riding together,” Irene was asking.

  “Of course I will.” Kirk looked her over, thinking how she looked more like sixteen than thirteen, proud of how sweet and loving the girl remained, in spite of her beauty and the way Bea spoiled all the children. Elly could be greedy and jealous, but not Irene, and he knew her honest, humble nature came from the blood of Gray Bird Woman.

  “Irene, you have piano lessons tomorrow,” Bea reminded her. “You know it isn’t ladylike to go galloping around on a horse. I’ve asked you over and over to give up the riding.”

  Irene closed her eyes and sighed. She hated upsetting her mother, but she loved riding more than any
thing. She loved the feel of the wind in her face, the power of a sturdy horse beneath her. Horses meant everything to her, and she had one special one called Sierra that she rode nearly every day, in spite of her mother’s irritation. Sierra was an Appaloosa gelding, mostly white with gray legs, tail, and mane, and gray spots on its rump. He was three years old now. Kirk had bought the horse for Irene’s twelfth birthday.

  Kirk had taught Irene to ride, and it had come easy to her. Sometimes John would come riding with them, but Elly would not even consider getting on the back of a horse. She was afraid of them and haughtily agreed with her mother that riding astride a horse was unladylike.

  Irene didn’t care. Sometimes she felt she would rather die than not be able to ride. “Please,” she begged her mother. “Father isn’t home that often. We can go riding in the morning and be back in time for my lessons in the afternoon.”

  Bea looked at Kirk then, and Irene noticed a strange look of fear in her mother’s eyes. She supposed that Bea was afraid Irene would get hurt. “You know I’m a good rider, Mother. Nothing will happen.”

  Bea turned and gave her a weak smile. “We’ll talk about it later, Irene. You go and see that Ramona has all the party favors ready. And tell Elly to finish dressing. Your guests will be arriving soon.”

  Irene smiled at her father. She knew by the look he gave her that he would make sure they could go riding. Out in the hallway Elly hurried off before Irene exited the parlor to go to the kitchen. Bea watched after Irene, making sure the hall was empty before closing the parlor doors. She faced Kirk, looking irritated. “You know what I think of her riding, especially when you let her straddle a horse like a man, and ride bareback, of all things!”

  Kirk picked up his pipe and relit it. He had gotten used to his wife’s almost constant preaching and complaining, her need not only to build their fortune, but to live a life that showed it off. Bea wanted to have the best of everything, always to do only what was “proper” for the wealthy. But no matter how rich they became, he knew he didn’t belong in the elite circle. The life Bea insisted on leading forced him to associate with too many boring, stuffy people, while all he really wanted was to put on his buckskins and head into the mountains.