“I’ll make another pie shortly,” Patience said calmly, aware that Wilson’s outbursts were due to grief. He missed Jay. He was not adjusting well to his new surroundings.
Nor was she. Tossing for hours at night, she found sleep impossible. She yearned for Jay. Mornings she was drained of emotion.
Harper called her a thousand fools for falling in love with a lawman, but deep down she didn’t regret one moment. Her biggest concern was for Jay. Was he ill? Did he need her? Were his nights as unbearable as hers?
Picking up a handful of dirty dishes, Patience pushed through the swinging door, Wilson’s voice following her.
“I hate school! I hate towns! I hate my teacher! I hate this kitchen, I hate this house, I hate this table, I hate these dishes, I hate this butter dish, I hate …”
Mary wasn’t feeling well, so she changed rooms with Lily for the night. Patience helped her get settled into the small room at the rear of the house, while Lily moved her things into the room Mary had shared with Patience.
The household quieted down for the night. Wilson had been upset, angry, wanting to go back to the Mule Head and his animals. She couldn’t blame him because she felt the same way.
Now, with Lily sleeping, Patience sat on the side of her bed, holding Jay’s shirt. She had laundered it for him, but he never returned and she couldn’t bear to leave it behind. Her fingers caressed the worn material, remembering his face, the way he smiled, the light in his eyes when he looked at her.
She began to speak hesitantly at first, but gaining in confidence, as if the shirt could hear her. She held it against her, pretending she held Jay. “I know you had a reason for not coming back. I don’t understand it yet, but someday I will.”
He wouldn’t have left without a word unless there was an explanation. She had fought this battle in her mind, finally conquering her doubts. Something had prevented him from coming back.
“I love you so much, and I still have faith in you and faith in God. I truly believe he intends for us to be together someday.”
She believed that with all her heart, and she had enough faith and trust in the Lord that no matter how bleak it seemed, he was there and he had the situation under control. At his own time and in his own way he would bring them together.
She held the shirt to her face, wetting it with her tears, talking to the shirt, not as if it were Jay, now, but a personal confidant. “I know how hard it is for him to trust. Losing Nelly and Brice hurt him so much. He loved them so deeply, and when a man really loves a woman, he doesn’t forget her that easily. I admire that in him, and I pray that he’ll soon feel that same love for me. And for Wilson. We won’t take Nelly’s and Brice’s places, and we won’t try to. We’ll make our own place in his heart.”
Lily spoke from the darkness. “Patience? I’m awake.”
“Oh! Oh, Lily, I’d forgotten you were here. I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to bother you.” Patience wiped her eyes.
“You didn’t. I just wanted to let you know I could hear you.”
“I guess I sounded silly, talking that way to a shirt.”
“No, it wasn’t silly.” Lily sounded sad. “You love Jay very much, don’t you?”
“Very, very much, Lily. I can’t find words to describe how much I love him. It’s like he’s a part of me, like I’m not complete without him. And the really crazy thing about our relationship is—it’s sort of romance between Jay and Wilson and me. It’s like we’ve all three fallen deeply in love with each other, and not a one of us knows how to make the love permanent.” Her breath caught in a sob. “I’m so afraid that Wilson and I have lost Jay.”
Lily sighed. “I’ve wondered what it would be like to love that way, but I’ve never been attracted to a man, never seen anyone I wanted to spend my life with. I’m afraid sometimes that my life will never change. I’ll just go on helping the Siddons and getting older and lonelier.”
Patience reached out in the darkness and took her hand. “Don’t feel like that, Lily. Your time will come.”
“I’m not so sure.” Lily’s voice brimmed with tears. “I’ve watched you and Ruth find love, but it seems like there is no one for me. I’m afraid God intends for me to live and die and never know the love of a man.”
Slipping out of bed, Patience crawled into bed with Lily and held her tightly. The young girl’s shoulders shook with sobs. As children they had comforted each other; tonight Patience was swept back to a lonely childhood full of dreams. Lily had the same dreams.
Why, God? Why can’t our dreams come true? I know you love each of your children and plan only the best for them, but sometimes the waiting gets terrible hard, Father. Please give us either more patience or less hurting—we can’t stand the pain anymore.
Long after Lily had fallen asleep, Patience stared into the dark, thinking of Jay and about what Lily had said. In her longing for Jay, had she blinded herself to the truth? For all her brave words in defense of Jay, and her talk of faith and trust, she couldn’t forget the hammer blows of his words back at the mine: “There is no us, Patience. Thought you understood that.”
Maybe, Lily, you’re the lucky one, not me. Loving and not having that love returned … well, maybe that hurts more than never loving at all.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Late one afternoon Jay found himself walking up to the mine shaft. The gray, overcast day with miniature flakes of blowing snow peppering the air only deepened the growing ache in his heart.
He walked slowly, not completely recovered from his injuries. After being beaten half to death by Mooney’s goon, someone had found him and delivered him to the town midwife and self-styled nurse. She’d taken care of him, bringing him back to life by her sheer bullheaded refusal to give up. He owed her a lot.
But sometimes he wished she hadn’t bothered. Patience was gone, believing he had abandoned her. How could he go back to Denver City and face her, broke and with a tale of not being able to come to her because of his injuries? Why would she believe him?
He walked the familiar path, fighting memories at every turn. Pausing at the top of the hill, he stared down on the mine. Snow drifted deep around the dugout, obstructing the doorway. The irrational thought that he should clear it away crossed his mind.
He squinted, trying to remember, and the scene began to take shape in his mind: Smoke curled from the dugout’s old smokestack; Selmore was staked outside the door, and Jellybean pawed the air at a passing bug.
He watched, transfixed, when Patience stepped out the door, her laughter carrying on the icy air. Pausing at the clothesline, she waved up at him, her eyes bright with mischief. The gentle breeze caught her hair and tossed it like a kite on a windy day.
She waved again, calling his name.
Hesitantly lifting his hand, he smiled, waving back.
Blowing him a kiss, she started to hang wash. The musical strains of “Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair” floated across the barren countryside. He could hear the soft refrain she had half sung, half whispered to him at the square dance … how long ago was it? It could have been a million years. Or maybe it all had been a dream.
He stood on the hilltop for over an hour, oblivious to the wind and the cold.
On his third outing, he took along a shovel. This time, when he reached the top of the hill, he continued down the steep incline.
It was over a mile to the mine. Today he wore snowshoes, so walking came easier. But by the time he reached the dugout, his strength was sapped.
Resting for a spell, he sat on the log, trying to invoke Patience’s image again. This time his imagination refused to cooperate. How long had it been since he’d last seen her? Three, four weeks. He couldn’t remember.
After he’d rested, he got up and started to slowly shovel snow away from the dugout door.
“Better save yore strength, buddy boy.”
Closing his eyes, Jay wondered why Frank was sticking around. Hadn’t Patience deserted the mine? If so, Tucker had moved in, to be sure.
“
Surprised ta see me? It’s not like I have places to go, things to do.”
Frank was up to his same old rhetoric, but with a different tone. He didn’t sound as ornery or as pleased with himself. He emerged from nowhere and paused in front of the dugout. “Missed you, buddy boy.”
Jay ignored him. Frank had what he wanted; Jay wasn’t going to congratulate him on his good fortune.
The old man leaned against the dugout. “Pert near got yoreself killed. Gonna have to be more careful.”
“I’ll concede that I’m just plain stupid. Since you didn’t finish me off that day in the mine, I thought I’d let one of Mooney’s thugs have a shot at it.”
“Now, buddy boy, I didn’t hurt ya, did I? I was jest makin’ a point.”
Jay shoveled snow aside, ignoring him.
“Mad at me, ain’t ya?”
“Actually, I don’t give a hoot about you, Frank.”
“Yeah, yore mad all right.” Frank scratched his beard sheepishly. “Guess I was a might hard on that girl and the boy.”
Jay refused to look up.
“Got my own woman troubles, ya know.” Frank moved to sit on a log, hands folded, watching Jay work. “Come on, son … so I am a heartless, angry, old man … I did save yore life.”
Jay glanced up.
“I was the one who found you and brought you to Elga’s cabin.”
“That was you?”
Frank nodded. “That was me. Fool thing you done, shoving that outhouse over with Red sittin’ in it.”
“Well—” Jay lifted another shovelful of snow—“face it; I do a lot of foolish things.”
“There ya go, bein’ hard on yoreself agin. You was on yore way back to the Mule Head when it happened, wasn’t ya?”
“Before I was … detained.”
“Then what’s the problem? You didn’t run her off. You was comin’ back—or least ya would have if ya hadn’t let yore orneriness get the better of yore common sense. Son, you don’t fool around with a man Red’s size. Ain’t anyone ever told ya that?”
Pausing for a moment, Jay let his gaze travel to the mine. “She thinks I deserted her—stalked off and never came back. She didn’t have a chance against you and Tucker after that. She gave up her dreams and went back to Denver City.”
“Yeah—shore hated to hear that.”
Jay met the old prospector’s eyes, aware that his injuries were still apparent. “Why would you hate to hear it? That was your plan, wasn’t it? Run her off, scare her witless so she’d give up the mine? She’d still be here, Innis, if it wasn’t for me. She wasn’t scared of any ghost.”
Frank hung his head. “Yeah, she’s purty spunky.”
Jay kept shoveling. It was a while before he spoke. “Have you heard anything about Patience?” he asked softly. “Did she make it back to Denver City all right? Is she well?”
“Hear tell she’s well. Got a friend over in Denver City—I’ve been keepin’ up since I knew you couldn’t. Her and the boy are stayin’ with the pastor and his wife, along with the other girls. She’s being taken care of, buddy boy, better’n when she was livin’ up here, fightin’ that mine.”
“Wilson?”
“Wilson? Mick Johnson, a fellow miner, passed through Denver City last week. He says rumor is the boy hates everything—suppose it’s his age.”
Jay’s voice dropped to a ragged whisper. “I love her, Frank.”
“Yeah, I know, buddy boy.” The old man scratched his head. “I was in love once—didn’t turn out much better than you and the girl, but I can shore remember how I felt about her.”
Jay rammed the shovel into another drift, angry now. “I fell in love with her. I told myself a thousand times I wouldn’t, but I did. Fell in love with both of them. The time we spent here …” Jay’s eyes traveled the mine area. “We were a family, Frank. God gave me a second family, and I didn’t realize or appreciate it.”
“Yeah, well, now there’s still time to do somethin’ about it. Not all’s lost. She might be in Denver City, but that ain’t the jumpin’-off place. You got a swift horse—go after her.”
Jay noticed that Innis crossed his arms when he kept shoveling. “Why are you shovelin’ that snow?”
“I have to do something to pass the time.”
“Shovelin’ snow’s only gonna sap yore strength. Better save it, son, for better things.”
“Are you ever ashamed of what you did to her?”
When Frank didn’t answer, Jay looked up, expecting the old miner to be gone. Instead, he sat there, his arms folded across his bony chest, staring out across the mountains.
“Frank?”
The old man glanced at him, eyes misted over. “Ashamed, you ask. Yeah, I’m ashamed. She’s a good woman. Reminded me of someone I used to know. Never deserved what I did to her, and I liked the boy too. Never had a son or grandson. Seemed like you and Wilson sort of filled that need.”
Jay stared at Frank in disbelief. “So you blew up the mine with me in it? Thanks a lot, Dad.”
Frank shook his head. “You ain’t takin’ me as serious as you ought to.”
“I’ll take you serious when you talk serious. You set out to drive us away from the mine.”
“Yeah. I did that. Gonna go after her, aren’t you, boy?”
Jay knew he’d eventually have to return to Denver City and face Patience. It also meant that he had to explain the thug, the beating, and the gambling debt to the town council. He paused and leaned on the shovel handle. “I haven’t a thing to offer her—no gold, no solidarity. Nothing.”
“Aw, shucks. Gold ain’t no problem. You are gonna go after her, ain’t ya? Shame to let a purty little thing like that git away.”
“She’s better off without me.”
Frank shook his head. “Feelin’ sorry for yoreself agin.”
Maybe he was. Jay had faced the grim reaper and lost the woman he loved. Law didn’t pay anything. If anyone had a right to feel sorry for himself, he did. His mind returned to the days of his youth when his family lived on Pop’s fees: fresh eggs, vegetables from a grateful patient’s garden, a butchered hog come fall, fryers and stewing hens throughout the summer.
There were times when an outbreak of cholera gripped the community and Doc Longer wouldn’t see his family for days. When he did come home, he’d be so tired he could do little more than eat leftovers and fall into bed for a few hours’ sleep. People came and went at all hours of the night. He could never be counted on to be around at important times like Christmas and birthdays.
Delivering babies, tending the terminally ill, hovering over the desperately sick—never enough time for his own family. Law was the same way. Once Jay returned to Denver City, his time would belong to the citizens. Patience and Wilson would be better off without him. He wanted wholesome meals on his table, new shoes for his children every winter, a house, and a team of horses to take his family for a Sunday afternoon ride.
Slinging his shovel over his shoulder, Jay walked away from Innis and the dugout.
“Hey …” Frank sat up on the log. “You leavin’ for good?”
Jay never looked back. He slowly made his way through the deep snow and eventually disappeared over the hilltop.
Seven more days passed before Jay ventured back to the mine. He had vowed he was never going back. Patience was gone, and he sure didn’t value Frank’s company.
Yet shortly after dawn Sunday morning, he set off in search of her memory. Climbing the steep hill, he made his way slowly down the other side of the incline.
A cold sun glinted off the deep snow. His heavy boots broke through the crusty surface. He plodded toward the mine.
The little dugout looked bleak in the early morning light. What a difference her presence had made.
Sitting down on the log, he stared at the dugout, wondering what Patience and Wilson were doing on this Sunday morning. They’d be in church, worshiping God.
Suddenly he missed the comfort of a worship service. Nelly had been big on g
oing to church, and she’d seen they never missed a meeting. He’d had something to believe in back then, before he’d lost his wife and son and his faith in a loving God.
A hawk soared overhead, riding the air currents. Jay breathed in the cold, clean air, drinking in the beauty of this remote corner of the world. God’s world. He started to push the thought away, then paused, unaccustomed to his new feelings. Yes, God’s world. The silence was so deep it was like being in a holy place. Like a cathedral.
He watched the hawk, letting his thoughts soar … up … up … into the dazzling blue of the sky. “Are you listening? Was I wrong? Do you really care?”
A sweet, subtle warmth began somewhere in the frozen wasteland inside him, where he kept his memories of Nelly and Brice, spreading outward like the rays of summer sun, thawing, healing.
The truth hit him again with the clarity of church bells. He’d stumbled out of faith, blinded by the pain of losing the two people he’d loved the most. He’d given up on God, but God had never given up on him. It was good to finally trust again.
He sat in silence, letting the peace of this lonely mountaintop seep into his soul. Faith. He’d never lost it; he’d just put it aside for a while. The belief in a loving God who truly cared for his own, that faith was the only thing that could see him through this life. It had taken a young woman and a little boy to make him see the difference.
Cold saturated his bones, aggravating his injuries. Oblivious to the pain, he sat lost in thought.
He’d vowed never to take a risk that involved love again. Never would he take someone into his heart; it wasn’t worth the pain. He’d always get hurt. Love would fail him. Erect those barriers. But he was powerless. P had come along and—
“Hey! You! Buddy boy!”
Jay glanced up when he heard Frank’s voice. His eyes searched the area for the miner. When was he going to give up and leave him alone?
“In here!”
Jay looked, but Frank, for once, didn’t show himself. “What do you want, Frank?”
“I’m trapped.”
“You’re what?”
“Trapped. Over here.”
Patience Page 23
