by Ward, Marsha
Chester struggled again as Carl strode up and came to a halt before them, crossing his arms.
“You piece of trash. You ruined my daughter,” Chester bellowed, spitting on the ground. He tried to reach his gun, but Ellen held him fast, desperation strengthening her arms.
“Mr. Bates, I ain’t touched Miss Ellen. I own I acted a mite foolish to ask her to ride with me on such a stormy night, but I was awful muddleheaded then. You got a right to take a poke at me for being a fool, but I don’t reckon you should shoot me. I wouldn’t harm Miss Ellen to spite Ida Hilbrands.”
Chester swore, then went limp. Ellen realized that the heat had gone out of her father and released him. He went over to lean on his horse, taking several deep breaths, then turned back to Carl.
“I been so mad at you, I even took a poke at your pa. I ‘spect I lost my best friend, and my wife ain’t so pleased with me, neither. Ellen, you ma says you have good sense. I hope you ain’t let her down.”
“Pa, I told you, Carl gave me his word of honor. He’s a gentleman. You know all Rod Owen’s sons are gentlemen. You told me so yourself.”
Chester swore again. “You’re the only child I got, Ellen. I reckon I worry overmuch about you, but daughter, this ain’t your ordinary turn of events. Things are new and different out here, I give you that, but some things never change. A girl don’t go alone with a man, not overnight. He done damage to your name, and it ain’t going to be easy to wash it clean. I’m taking you home, now.”
“I ain’t going, Pa. I promised to stay with Mary till she’s up and about. It’s a duty I have, and I won’t leave her.”
Chester looked helplessly at his big, hard hands. “You got me between a rock and a hard place, daughter. I can’t fault you wanting to do your duty, for I taught you myself to carry through on a task, but you got a duty to your own self, too.”
“Pa, when I rode off with Carl, that was a task I was carrying through. He was hurting real bad, and he needed a friend.” She stood in front of Carl, facing her father.
“That’s my point, daughter. There’s some will say he needed you to take advantage of. This is a compromising situation you got yourself into, right compromising, and no man’ll want a wife with a smear on her name.”
“That ain’t rightly so, sir,” Carl broke in. “I seen the pluck of your daughter, and what she can turn her hand to. I know she ain’t done anything wrong, and I don’t have to think twice.”
He stopped short, face flaming. Looking down, he kicked a clump of grass that was poking through the melting snow. Then he shoved his thumbs into his trousers pockets, rocked back on his heels, and looked at the sky.
Chester and Ellen watched him, clearly fascinated, waiting for Carl’s next words. Carl took his hands from his pockets and clasped them behind his back, then he spoke.
“I reckon if I’ve hurt Miss Ellen’s name, I’m sorry for it. I don’t know what James’ll say in the matter, but I should have said this a long time ago. Mr. Bates, I’m seeking permission to court your daughter.”
~~~
Rod Owen was back, bringing his wife, his daughters, and Muriel Bates. As he passed Rulon’s cabin, Rod spotted his runaway son chopping wood with a red, scowling face. Then, driving up to the front of his own house, he saw Chester Bates sitting on the bench outside the cabin, back to the log wall, smoking his pipe.
Rod pulled the horses to a halt and helped the women and girls down from the wagon box. They went into the house, after glancing at Rod and Chester. Rod let the animals blow a bit, while he looked the situation over. Rubbing his cheek, which bore a new bruise, he looked at his friend. “Well, Chester?”
“Well, Rod,” the other man answered. He paused to puff the smoke from his cheeks. “You had the right of it. He laid no hand on her.”
“He seems powerful vexed about something.”
“He is.”
“Well?”
Chester exhaled. “He wants my permission to court her. I told him nay.”
“James will be along in a bit.”
Chester squinted at Rod. “I figured he has a say in this affair.” He hoisted one leg over the other. “Has he spoke his mind yet?”
“No, but his glower is as black as his hair.”
“Well then, we’ll have to wait to see if he still wants to marry her. If not, I can’t just give Carl free rein, what with Ellen staying here and all.”
“Hold on. Who says Ellen’s staying here?”
“She does. She won’t go home with me. Claims she owes a duty to stay here with Mary and the baby, to help her get back on her feet.”
“Mary? Baby? What are you telling me, man?”
“She brought forth a girl.”
“Julia!” Rod hollered, poking his head into the doorway. “Julia, we got a granddaughter! Wife! Come out here. Chester, who helped her along?”
“Ellen says she did. It appears she and Carl came along just in time to ease the child into the world. Evening, Julia.” He nodded as she stepped through the door.
“Rod, I could hear you bellowing your lungs out, but I missed your message. What’s the trouble?”
“Mary went and had her child whilst we was gone. Ellen played midwife. It’s a girl-baby.”
“Well!” Julia sat down on the bench beside Chester. “I never heard the like! Chester Bates, don’t you go too hard on that girl. I say the Good Lord sent her along with Carl, to help out Rulon’s wife.”
“Seems she’s a blessing to everyone but herself,” he grumbled.
Three riders came from the trees. James was in the front, his horse lathered, followed by Clay and Albert.
“Rod Owen, I’m fairly burning to go see that grandbaby of ours.” Julia rose to her feet and saw the young men approaching. “I’ll set Marie to stirring up supper. You get the boys to put up them horses, so you can come over with me, if you’ve a mind to do so.”
“Of course I’ll come. You’d think I was a lump of clay.” He winked at Chester.
~~~
James gave his horse the minimum of care before he loped across the bridge toward Rulon’s house. Carl saw him coming, and swung the ax into the chopping block. He dusted his hands together and waited.
“You double-dyed yellow-back sneak thief!” James yelled. “I ought to thrash you right here.”
“You and who else?” Carl returned, his face hardening. He fisted his hands, and stood waiting in a crouch.
“Just me!” James didn’t waste time, but swung at Carl, who dodged away and jabbed at James’s face. Neither man connected, and they circled in the yard, trading loud insults.
Julia stepped out of the door. “Carl! James! What’s got into the two of you? Hush, now. There’s a baby here.”
The young men straightened from their crouches.
“What’s this about?” Julia demanded.
“He sullied Ellen’s name!”
“I ain’t! Nothing happened between us.”
“Worse, he wants to steal her from me.”
“I want to marry her, yes I do.”
“She ain’t yours to marry. Find yourself another girl.”
Piercing wails from the vicinity of Rulon’s cabin interrupted the argument.
“Boys!” Julia was between them now, her hands gripping their arms. “This ain’t the time or place to have a ruckus. Shame on the both of you. The baby was asleep until you woke her up!”
“Sorry, Ma.” James bowed his head and compressed his lips. Then he turned to Carl with narrowed eyes. “This ain’t over yet.” His chest heaved.
“No, it surely ain’t,” Carl agreed in a growl.
~~~
When Julia and Rod returned to their cabin, Marie was dishing up supper to the guests. James and Carl sat as far apart as possible at the table, apparently holding on to their tempers until they had eaten. Rod pulled Chester aside and asked, “Has James declared his mind to you yet?”
“No. He’s eating first.”
“The two of them was fighting up y
onder.” Rod nodded toward Rulon’s place. “I been thinking, and I figure I’ve solved a problem or two. I’m going up Denver City way to find my brother-in-law and work in the mines. I’ll take Carl and James along with me. Ellen can stay here as long as she needs to. Suit you?”
“That sounds fine. If they’re away from Ellen, maybe they won’t come to blows over her.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Rod said. He picked up a plate and approached the fireplace, and Chester followed. Marie ladled beef stew into their plates while Rod looked around the crowded room for a place to sit down. Seeing none, he leaned up against the wall. “But at least Ellen will have some peace whilst she tends to Mary.”
“Yes.” Chester leaned on the wall beside Rod. “Maybe while she’s during her duty by Mary her mind will settle on doing her duty by James.”
Rod shrugged. “Time will tell. By the way, I asked Carl to let the men sleep in his cabin tonight.”
“We’ll be a sight different company than he expected to have tonight. Ida sure played him false.”
Rod dug into his food with his knife before answering. “I knew she was flighty, but I thought he could handle her.” He poked a chunk of meat into his mouth and chewed it before continuing. “I reckon it was more than he could do, from down here. That stormy weather was back luck all around.” He shook his knife at Chester. “Mayhap the best thing Ida ever did for Carl was to throw him over for that stuffy peacock she’s set to wed.”
“We’ll see,” Chester said, shaking his head. “When James speaks to me, we’ll know which way the wind blows.”
“I don’t think he’ll have the chance. We’re leaving in the morning.”
~~~
Denver City lay spread out between Cherry Creek and the South Platte, treeless and bustling. Log and mud buildings, some half completed, lined Blake Street where the business of the camp was concentrated. Some of the buildings were so hastily built that they seemed ready to fall down around the ears of the users.
Carl rode into town behind his father and two of his brothers. Rod dodged a freight wagon and edged his horse to the side of the road in front of a hotel. Rulon and James followed him, and Carl cut behind the stage once it had gone down the street. The men dismounted and tied their horses.
Pointing up the street, Rod wiped his face. “Rulon, you and James take that end of the street and Carl and me’ll work this end. Ask after Jonathan Helm. Somebody’s sure to have word of him. We’ll meet back here for dinner.” Then Rod entered the hotel and was gone.
Carl walked past the hotel front and ducked into the low doorway of a freight office. The clerk looked up at Carl’s question and shook his head. “Jonathan Helm? No, but I ain’t been here long. You’ll have to ask the boss. He’s out, gone up to the camps for the week. Sorry.”
“Much obliged.” Carl returned to the street and let his eyes roam down it, then strode into the next business.
“If he’s been here since Fifty-nine, likely he’s at the diggings west of here. I ain’t heard of no man named Helm here in town,” said the merchant.
The banker squinted at Carl over his spectacles. “Helm? No, that’s not a name I recall. Try up the street at the assayer’s place. Maybe Upshaw knows of him.”
“Jonathan Helm? Wait a minute. Let me look in the records,” said the assayer. He rummaged through some cards in a box, humming a tune to himself. “Was he a big man, with heavy shoulders and a black beard?”
Carl felt excitement stirring in him. “That’s him. Ma last heard from him about Sixty-two, I reckon.”
“Well, here it is.” The man pulled a card from the box.” I did this assay for him in Sixty-four. A mighty good one, it turned out. Yes, Jonathan Helm struck it rich up to Gregory Gulch. That’s Central City, you know, the richest square mile in the world. But I haven’t heard from him nor done another assay since this one. Likely there’s plenty of back door rock-crushers who call themselves assayers up there, telling him what he’s got.”
“I’m mighty grateful for the information, Mr. Upshaw. We been following after Uncle Jonathan now for nigh on to a year.”
“Well, good luck, young man. Just go on up to the north fork of Clear Creek. Somebody up there can set you back on his trail, I figure.”
Carl dashed back up the street, looking for his father. He ran from door to door, poking his head in each one, dodging passers-by on the street until he located Rod.
“Pa!” Carl called into the dimness of a saloon. He started through the door in a rush, then remembered his manners and settled down to a walk to approach the table where his father sat with a small bald-headed man.
“Son, your feet will arrive ahead of your brains, if you don’t have a care. I reckon you found out something?” Rod grinned over his hat, which sat on the table in front of him. “Sam Whitney here gave me a good lead, too. Sit down and we’ll swap our news.”
Carl pulled back a chair and sat on the edge of it. “The assayer says Uncle Jonathan’s got a claim up to Central City, Pa.”
“I reckon that’s where we’ll head after we noon, boy. Sam, this is my son Carl. Carl, Sam Whitney from the mint. He says Jonathan has been a steady supplier for a brace of years now. At least, the stuff Sam’s been working with has come out of Jonathan’s claim.”
Carl took off his hat and nodded to the man. He turned to his father and said in a rush, “Shoot, Pa, can’t we leave now? We ain’t seen him for a long spell.”
Rod chuckled. “My brother-in-law was a favorite with the young’uns back home,” he told Sam. “I reckon that’s the way it’ll be out here, too. Boy, we got to gather up your brothers and have us some dinner. Go poke your head out into the street and see if you can spot ‘em. The sooner we eat, the sooner we’ll be on the road.” Rod adjusted his chair. “And Carl, no—”
“I know, Pa.” Carl cut him off and rose from the table. When he pushed through the door of the saloon, the light and uproar of the street engulfed him, and he looked around for Rulon and James.
After a moment, Rulon came out of a door two buildings down on the other side of the street. He saw Carl and waved to him, beckoning him to join him.
Carl stepped off the walk and waited on the edge of the street for a chance to safely cross. A party of horsemen trotted their mounts through the business district, leading pack mules loaded with supplies, presumably for their mining camp. Carl crossed after the mules had passed, and soon was at Rulon’s side.
“Carl, you know them cartridges you shoot in your Spencer? They got a pistol in here that uses them same things instead of cap and ball. You load them in the back of the pistol cylinder, fire ‘em off, then push out the casings and whang in another set of cartridges. Fastest reloading I ever seen in my life.”
Carl grinned. “I had one in my hands, once. It’s a marvel, all right.”
“The gun is for sale, little brother. You got any of that money Rand paid you? I mean just kinda burning away in your pocket?”
“I was saving it to get a load of goods for when Ida and I—” He stopped, scowling. “Let’s take a look.”
Rulon led the way into the dark store. The pistols were on display in a glass case under the hardware counter. Rulon pointed to the Smith and Wesson at the back, and addressed the clerk. “Show my brother the cartridge pistol,” he requested.
The clerk, a brown-haired man with an eyeshade, brought out the blued steel revolver and placed it into Carl’s palm. “This is a mighty fine gun,” he began.
Carl sighted down the octagonal barrel.
“You have six chambers, .32 caliber cartridges is what you use, and you can be sure it’s a mighty fine gun for a man to have out here,” the clerk continued.
Carl considered. “You got the cartridges?”
“Plenty. I figure to have a steady supply, now that the Army’s fixing to clear up the Indian problem. I’m an Army supplier, you know.”
“I didn’t, but I reckon I’ll take the gun.” Carl looked at Rulon. “Maybe if you treat me
right, I’ll let you try it out from time to time.” A slow grin cracked his face. He paid, shoved the pistol down into his waistband, scooped up several boxes of cartridges, and whistled his way to the door. When he stepped through, he stopped with one foot in midair and froze.
He swore gently. “I bet I’m in trouble with Pa,” he said, slowly putting down his foot. “I just now recollected why I came out to get you. Pa’s waiting back at the Blue Belle Saloon.” He gestured with his head. “Could you—nah, I’d best look for James right quick, and you’d best scurry over and get washed up for dinner. Pa’s anxious to ride soon as we get our bellies full.” Carl walked down the street beside Rulon.
“What’s the hurry?”
“That’s what I forgot to tell you. Him and me both got word on Uncle Jonathan.” Carl stopped in front of the saloon. “You go on in. I’ll look for James.”
Carl walked down the street toward the hotel, where he pushed his way next to his horse and loaded the shell boxes into his saddlebags. He patted Sherando, then continued down the dusty road.
He caught up with James on the outskirts of the town, where he was asking after Jonathan at the livery stable.
“Come on,” he told James, his voice rough and his face set. “Pa’s raring to get on the road. We got word about Jonathan. He’s up north a piece, has some workings at Central City.”
“Where’s Central City?” James asked gruffly, waving his thanks to the stableman. He followed Carl back up the street.
“Northwest of here, at a place called Gregory Gulch. It’s on the north branch of Clear Creek.”
The brothers stepped around opposite sides of a wagon and entered the saloon, maintaining a polite distance from each other. Rod and Rulon sat at the table with Sam Whitney. As Carl and James came up, the man stood.
“I’ll be going along, Mr. Owen. It’s been a pleasure to meet you.” He shook hands with Rod. “I hope you find Jonathan doing well. So long, boys.” Sam retrieved his hat from the table, put it on, and nodding to the barkeeper, left the saloon.
