Patience

by Lori Copeland

  “Yeah, but no one else has.”

  Chappy turned serious. “Frank’s all right. He may work for Tucker, but he’s solid.”

  “Trying to take a mine away from a woman doesn’t seem too solid to me.”

  Chappy shook his head. “A man will do funny things when he’s hungry enough, but give Frank a chance. He’ll do what he thinks is right.”

  Jay didn’t argue, but he had his doubts. At least he’d gotten what he came for. “Thanks, Chappy.” He held out his hand. “Appreciate it.” He took a couple of steps away and turned back. “How come you didn’t tell me all this before?”

  Chappy smiled. “You never asked.”

  On his way out of town, Jay saw Silas Tucker talking to a bunch of men. Working his way around behind the livery stable so he could get closer, he listened in growing anger as Tucker outlined the plan to scare Patience into leaving.

  He looked up at the sun. Getting late. He still had to collect Moses and her crew, but now he knew what he was up against. He’d put a spoke in their plans if it was possible. Silas Tucker and Frank Innis weren’t going to cheat Patience. He wouldn’t let them.

  He knew the truth now. This so-called ghost was Frank Innis. Just like he suspected, Gamey O’Keefe was dead and gone or never even existed. The problems with the mine were human problems.

  But the man pretending to be Gamey’s ghost hadn’t caught on yet. He showed up the next day right on schedule, as if he had been waiting for Jay to come. “I know where that gold is. Know exactly—could take ya there in a minute, but I won’t.”

  Jay grunted, ignoring the man as he set a charge.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re bullheaded?”

  Jay shot him a penetrating glance. “Give it up.”

  “Never.” He rolled his eyes and studied the roof of the shaft. “It’s my mine, ya know.”

  “I believe you’ve mentioned that, Frank.”

  Disbelief crossed the man’s face. He sat up halfway, eyeing Jay. “Frank?”

  Turning, Jay smiled. “Frank Innis, isn’t it?”

  The miner’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t know what yore talkin’ about. Name’s Gamey O’Keefe.”

  Leaning on the shovel handle, Jay surveyed the imposter coldly. “That’s not what some say. Some say you and Silas Tucker are in cahoots. You’re working for Silas to scare Patience—and me—out of this mine. Rumor is, Tucker’s promised you a hefty cut if you stick around long enough to get the job done.”

  The old man paled. “You’re talkin’ crazy. I never heard of Tucker—I’ve been dead over thirty years.”

  “You’re about as dead as I am.” Jay picked up a pick and rammed it into the shale wall. “How much gold do you suppose is in the Mule Head?”

  “In the Mule Head?”

  “How much gold is in here?”

  The miner squinted up at him. “Is this here a trick question?”

  “Just curious. How much gold is actually in the mine?”

  “A lot. The mother lode. Pay dirt. Tons.”

  “And you know where it is.”

  “Exactly.”

  “How would you know that, Frank?”

  “I’ve always known where the gold is—know just where to find it, but someone else always owned the claim. You know any reason why I should tell someone else how to find my gold?”

  Jay eyed him in speculation. At least he had stopped claiming to be a ghost for the present. Probably because finding out that Jay knew his real name had shocked him into admitting the truth.

  “I’m betting you and Tucker would own the claim right now if you’d known the old prospector had died.”

  “She got a bill of sale? Ya know if it’s held under purchase it has to be under a bill of sale and ‘certified by two distinguished persons, honorable folks, as to the genuineness of the signature and the consideration given.’”

  “She’s got all she needs. Are you saying you and Tucker could find ‘two honorable folks’ to sign anything for you? Doesn’t seem likely to me.”

  Frank looked offended. “This mine can’t be more’n a hunnert square feet, and a ‘jury of five persons shall decide any question arisin’ under the previous article.’”

  “You memorized it all, didn’t you? Why—since you don’t have a mine? Or did you think the information might come in handy in claim jumping?”

  “And last but not least, ‘soon as there is enough water for workin’ a claim, five days’ absence from said claim, except in case of sickness, accident, or reasonable excuse shall forfeit the property.’”

  “So if you can scare Patience into leaving for more than five days, you and Tucker are home free. That your game? What if Patience offered to cut you in on the profits? Give you more than Tucker ever dreamed of giving you?”

  The old man didn’t flinch. “Cain’t negotiate if I don’t know who or what yore talkin’ about.”

  Jay shook his head. The old coot was loyal—he’d give him that. “What good is the gold if nobody can have it?”

  “Ain’t worth a ball of spit,” Frank conceded.

  “It could make some people’s lives a lot easier,” Jay said, thinking of Patience, Wilson, and the girls in Denver City. They desperately needed the money. Patience couldn’t last much more than a week at the rate they were going—Moses and the women were getting antsy about missed pay.

  “Nobody ever made my life easy.” The little man started backing up, stepping deeper into the shaft.

  “Give it some thought,” Jay called. “Do something nice for once—Frank.”

  “Honest, Patience! I heard him! He was talking to somebody, but when I asked him who he was talking to, he said, ‘Nobody, and stop asking so many questions, Wilson!’ Then he walked off real mad-like.”

  Patience ladled stew onto Wilson’s plate, finding it increasingly difficult to defend Jay’s odd behavior. She had caught him on several occasions mumbling, talking out loud, arguing with thin air. And his ongoing obsession about Gamey O’Keefe was getting serious. Perhaps she should insist he see a doctor next time one passed through Fiddle Creek.

  “Maybe he was talking to himself—people do sometimes,” she offered.

  “They talk bad to themselves?”

  “Sometimes,” she acknowledged. “Has Jay been talking bad in front of you?”

  Wilson nodded. “Real bad—but he didn’t know I heard him.”

  Patience frowned. “Where were you?”

  “I wasn’t hiding or anything,” Wilson upheld. “I was just sitting on a ledge eating a biscuit when I heard him start yelling and cussing, waving his shovel in the air and saying, ‘Get away, you—’”

  Patience whirled on him sternly.

  “I didn’t say it!”

  “You’d better not!”

  “Well, he said it, anyway.” Wilson halfheartedly drew a trail through his stew. “He couldn’t have meant for me to get away because he didn’t know I was even there, and he’s never called me that, no matter how mad he gets.”

  “Where were you when you heard this?”

  “Sitting on a ledge—” Wilson stopped.

  Patience’s hand shot to her hip. “In the mine?”

  Developing an unusual preoccupation with his meal, Wilson started spooning stew, cramming his mouth so full an answer would be rude.

  “Wilson, you are to stay out of the mine.”

  He stared back at her, cheeks round as a chipmunk’s.

  “The women are blasting in there now, and it’s extremely dangerous!”

  Nodding, he chewed emphatically.

  Unfolding her napkin, she sighed. “In regard to Jay’s odd behavior, I wouldn’t worry. He has a lot on his mind lately—and we have not said grace yet. Will you bless the food, please?”

  Swallowing, Wilson bowed his head and scrunched his eyes tightly shut. “Please help us, God. We’re in big trouble.”

  Patience slid him a sideways glance.

  “And thank you for this good, nutritious stew. Even tho
ugh we don’t have any meat, carrots and onions are better than beans any day. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Patience echoed.

  Wilson reached for his spoon. “We’re not doing so well, huh, Patience? Moses is shouting a lot lately because of all the accidents.”

  The third cave-in in a week happened early this morning, and the women had lost another day’s work clearing the shaft. Patience thought she must have the worst luck in the world. Unless …

  She shook Jay’s strange wanderings away. “No, I’m afraid we’re not, Wilson.”

  The boy’s features turned solemn. “Do we have to go to Denver City?”

  “It’s possible. We have no money, and we’re not mining enough gold to pay wages. I’m going to be honest; we’re down to needing a miracle, Wilson.”

  “But I don’t want to go to Denver City. I like it here.”

  “I know. I don’t want to go either, but we have to do what’s best for your welfare.” She leaned closer. “I can’t take care of you here, Wilson. Not unless the mine starts producing.”

  “If we go to Denver City, can I take my animals?”

  She shook her head, swallowing around the knot suddenly forming at the back of her throat. “I’m sorry—your animals wouldn’t be happy there, Wilson. This is their home.”

  Tears formed in the young boy’s eyes. “What’ll happen to Jay? He’s ours now. He doesn’t have anybody, and we love him.”

  Sighing, Patience pushed her plate aside. “I don’t know about Jay.” She wished she did. Oh, he’d go back to Denver City—that’s where his job was—but she wasn’t sure she’d see much of him after that. He’d retreat into an impenetrable shell and—

  “Why is he acting so nutty?”

  “Wilson, can I tell you something?” He suddenly seemed like the old, wise-beyond-his-years Wilson in whom she’d always been able to confide, and right now she badly needed a confidant.

  “Certainly. May I have more stew, please?”

  “Yes, you may, and I’m very proud of you. Your language has improved considerably.”

  “I’m working on my behavior,” he divulged. “And I’m trying to teach Butch the proper way to express himself without making Teacher blush.” He took a swallow of milk. “I’m embarrassed for him sometimes, but he just won’t learn.”

  “Where are that boy’s parents?” Patience mused, more rhetorically than not.

  “Miss Perkins says she thinks he’s being raised by wolves.” He looked up from his plate. “Could that happen?”

  “No. Miss Perkins was only teasing.”

  “Oh.” He took another sip of milk, carefully wiping the white mustache rimming his upper lip. “What did you want to tell me?”

  “You have to promise not to say anything to anyone about this.”

  “Who would I tell? Hardly anybody ever tells me anything.”

  “I sure don’t want you telling Jay.”

  Wilson quickly took another drink of milk.

  “Jay says he’s seen Gamey O’Keefe.” She absently ladled carrots and onions onto Wilson’s plate, watching his reaction.

  He peered back at her questioningly.

  “The ghost—Jay says he’s seen the ghost,” Patience repeated, hoping he would think the notion ridiculous.

  “Did he like him?”

  “Wilson! That’s insane. There’s no such thing as a ghost!”

  “Who said?”

  “Everybody says.”

  “Not everyone. I heard Moses and the other women talking, and they believe there’s a ghost—though they’ve never seen him. But Moses said they’re getting tired of him causing all these cave-ins and stuff.”

  “When did they say that?”

  “Today.” His eyes lowered back to his plate. “When I … wasn’t in the mine.”

  Her heart sank. If Moses walked out, she was doomed. She’d have no other choice but to return empty-handed to Denver City. Then what? She couldn’t impose on Pastor Siddons and his wife much longer, and neither could the other single women.

  “I’m so confused. I don’t know what to believe. The number of accidents and cave-ins is unusual. How much bad luck can one person have?”

  “Jay said he saw the ghost, didn’t he?” Wilson spoke as though the matter were settled.

  “He says he has, and on more than one occasion.”

  Wilson nodded gravely. “Maybe Jay just needs someone to love him, huh, P? Then he won’t be seeing ghosts.”

  She smiled. “Maybe so.” She could love him. Very easily, if he would permit it. She had walked away from him that night in his cabin, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  “We love him, don’t we?”

  Patience looked away. “Your stew’s getting cold.”

  “But we do love him, huh? I won’t tell him if you don’t want me to. Honest.”

  “Yes, we love him,” she conceded.

  “A lot.”

  She nodded, fighting back tears, and started to clear the table. “A whole lot.”

  “Wilson and I are worried about you.”

  Jay glanced up when Patience knelt beside him the next morning. Icy water bubbled in the stream.

  “He overheard you yesterday—you have to be more careful. Granted, everyone talks to themselves on occasion but—”

  “He overheard me what?”

  “Talking to yourself.”

  He turned to face her, carefully placing the gold pan on the bank. “I wasn’t talking to myself.”

  “He heard you.”

  “He heard me talking to Frank Innis, the so-called ghost of the gold mine.” He got to his feet, pulling her up off the cold ground.

  She shivered. Seemed like it was colder here close to the creek.

  He motioned toward a ledge of rock, waiting to speak until she was seated. “Listen, Patience. I went into town yesterday and asked some questions. What I found out was more or less what I had expected.”

  She watched him, wanting to believe. He seemed so earnest… . He sat down beside her, and she fought an urge to reach out and smooth back his hair, the way she did Wilson’s sometimes. Her heart ached for him. He’d worked so hard. Too hard. Maybe there was a curse on the mine and it was making Jay sick.

  “Hear me out—I’m not losing my mind. I know what’s going on. The ghost isn’t a ghost at all, just like we’ve always known. His name is Frank Innis, and he works for a man by the name of Silas Tucker.”

  “Frank Innis, Silas Tucker,” she murmured, trying to speak calmly. “That’s interesting… .”

  “Chappy says they’re trying to convince you and everyone else the mine is haunted so you’ll give it up.”

  “But, Jay, everyone in Fiddle Creek already thinks the mine is haunted. That’s why they won’t work here. If they know it’s a scam, then they’ll change their minds and come work for us after all.”

  “No. No, they won’t, Patience. That’s the problem. I’m the only one who has seen the ghost of Gamey O’Keefe. He doesn’t show up in town. I just happened to see ‘Gamey’ and Tucker meeting down the mountain a ways, and since I’d seen Frank pretending to be Gamey, I went on into town and dug into Tucker’s background.”

  “And what did you find out?” Humor him. That’s all she could do.

  “I learned he has a sidekick named Frank Innis, who fits the description of the man I’d seen in the mine, and the sidekick hasn’t been around for a while. I overheard Tucker bragging that after you give up, he knows how to rid the mine of the ghost. That’s what he’s planning. Something to fool people into believing he’s gotten rid of Gamey O’Keefe. It will work too. Can’t you see that?”

  Patience watched him, sure he believed what he was saying but unable to accept the strange tale herself. “Why does he just appear to you, Jay? I’m the one he’s trying to scare off. Why doesn’t he show himself to me?”

  “They’ve got that all figured out. Get rid of me, and you won’t have a crew. Without a crew, you’ll have to give up. And if no one else
sees him, then, when I try to tell the truth, I won’t be able to get anyone to believe me. They’ll think I’m seeing things; Gamey’s ghost has got to me.”

  That was so close to what she was thinking, it startled her into letting him see her doubt. She tried to recover, but he’d caught her expression.

  He drew back, the excitement dying from his eyes. “See? Even you don’t believe me. You think I’m losing my mind.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. It’s there in your face for me to see. You don’t believe I’ve seen him, do you?”

  “Of course, if you say so.” She knew he wouldn’t be convinced by the weakness of her response and tried desperately to think of something to restore his pride, but he moved away from her.

  “All right, that does it. I want you to go back to Denver City until I can get the mine producing. Take the boy with you. I’ll expose those two thieves and hire a crew, but I want you out of the way in case things get rough.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll not leave you alone. If you’re right on this, why would you expect me to run? It’s my mine too, and my future that’s at stake. I’m not leaving.”

  “Patience—”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  He sprang to his feet. “Of all the stubborn, hardheaded women …”

  She stood up also, facing him. “Calling me names won’t help. Are you going to make me go back?”

  He stared at her, his expression frustrated. “I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, but you owe it to the boy to put his welfare first.”

  “I am putting his welfare first. That’s exactly what I’m doing, and you know it. How dare you talk to me like that!”

  That was why she clung to the mine in the first place—for Wilson and the others. She hadn’t been this stubborn and endured so much for self-interest. The Mule Head was their only hope for a bright future—for all of them.

  “I know that look on your face,” Jay fumed. “You’re digging your heels in, as stubborn as a mule. Too contrary to admit you’re wrong.”

  “I’m not wrong.” Patience’s temper flared, hotter than a pine-knot torch. “The gold is there. I can’t just walk away from it.”

  “Maybe you can’t, but I can.” Jay’s face flushed with sudden rage. “I’ve had enough. Why should I stay here, working my fingers to the bone, when you have the faith of … of …”