“Then, why not defend those savages, rather than run from the truth?”
She whirled around, glaring up at him. “And what do you consider the truth?”
He shrugged. “Does it matter? You’re being unfair, not giving the Indians a fair chance to—”
“To what? Kidnap me again?” She turned and charged toward her horse. “Don’t try defending them to me, Adam Pearson. Because of those savages, my mother is dead!”
Adam’s expression changed from one of irritation to something more unreadable. He said nothing more as he strode to his horse and untied the reins, leaving her to do the same.
As she scrambled back into the saddle, she began to regret her harsh words with him. He was the kindest person she had ever met. But why did he have to be such a goody-goody, always defending the Indians?
But then, of course, he was half-Cherokee himself. And he was proud, not ashamed. Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to think of a way to bridge the awkward gap. She had spoken too quickly, and she had probably offended him, as well. She cleared her throat, trying to soften her tone of voice. “I’m just anxious to get to Denver, aren’t you?”
He hesitated for a moment. “Very anxious.”
“At least you’ll be rid of me,” she said, testing his mood with a little smile.
He didn’t smile back. He merely turned his horse up the road, and Elisabeth decided he wasn’t the “goody-goody” she had thought him to be. He was a kind man, but it was obvious that he had a temper when someone offended him or the people he held dear.
Maybe that was not a bad thing. She sighed, realizing there was no one in her life left to defend. Her mother was dead. Maybe both of your mothers are dead, a thought whispered in the back of her brain.
As they rode in silence for the next half hour, she dared not look at him. She couldn’t help how she had reacted. It had been a traumatic week for her. Still she had to get ahold of herself. The Utes had made a mistake, that was all; she was not one of them, she had no feelings of love for them.
She knew she should apologize for being so rude, but she couldn’t seem to find the right words. She was glad he wasn’t talking to her; she didn’t want to talk to him, either.
She focused her eyes on the melting snowbanks that lined the sides of the road. She would be glad to get to Denver.
It was early afternoon when Elisabeth first saw the sprawling settlement of Denver, built out in the flats with the jagged, frost-glistened peaks of the Front Range as a backdrop. The mountains had given way to hills with table-flat summits and sandstone ridges as the country opened up, stretching out before them.
“That’s Cherry Creek,” Adam said, pointing to a narrow stream threading its way between two rows of cabins built of cottonwood logs and roofed with earth and grass. “It used to be the dividing line between Aurora and Denver. Folks fussed and occasionally fought each other for the miners’ and settlers’ trade. Finally they realized that the only way either could succeed was to join forces as one town: Denver City.”
She took a deep breath, relieved that he seemed to have gotten over his irritation with her.
“You seem to know a lot about the area,” she said, eager for a safe topic of conversation.
“My uncle lived in Denver when it was first being settled. He said it was like one giant ant heap. People were crowded into tents and crude shacks, even sleeping under wagons. Half of them were ready to turn around and head home. But they stayed and built this town, and now many are successful merchants. The only problem is”—he turned his reins over in his hands—“they seem to have forgotten the years when they had to do without; otherwise, I don’t know how they could charge as much as fifteen dollars for a sack of flour. That’s what I paid when I stocked up for my trip home.”
Home. The word was like manna to her ears, and suddenly, more than anything, she wanted a home of her own.
“Tell me about where you live.” She looked across at him.
He turned his face toward the mountains, and she could see that the subject pleased him. A smile tilted his lips, stretching to the crease in his cheeks.
“My cabin is on a stream on the back side of a mountain. Only a few cabins are scattered about in the small area called Aspen Valley.”
“That’s a pretty name,” Elisabeth said, studying the log buildings they passed. “I suppose the aspens are pretty there in the fall.”
“A beauty that takes your breath away,” he said. “Well, here we are.”
She was sorry they had stopped talking about his cabin. It sounded so peaceful and homey. But it was time to think about the Tillotsons and her new life here in Denver. She studied the brightly lettered signs over the doors of shops and on the sides of buildings. There was a gun shop, a carpenter shop, a hardware store that boasted stoves made of sheet iron, a meat market, bakery, saloon and gambling hall, and a barber shop. Graham’s Drugstore offered watches and jewelry made to order from native gold.
“This is quite a town,” she said, looking around and feeling a bit lost and out of place.
“It’s fine if you like towns, I guess. We’ll take this next street to the right. The Tillotsons live down at the end.”
Elisabeth nodded, trying to force her mind toward what she would say to them. She hated to tell them why she was here; perhaps it wouldn’t be necessary to tell them everything. She could say that her mother had died, but before her death, she had sent her to look up the Tillotsons.
It had been a long time since she’d seen the older couple. Perhaps they wouldn’t even want her to stay with them. She glanced across at Adam’s strong yet gentle features. She would never forget Adam; she had never met anyone quite like him. And rather than think of the Tillotsons, she found herself thinking of Adam. Again.
Chapter Nine
The Tillotsons lived in a small frame house located in a nice neighborhood and within walking distance of the shops. Elisabeth decided it would be a perfect place for her as they turned their horses in at the hitching rail near the front gate. The small patch of yard was covered with snow, but the little porch had been swept clean. White lace curtains fluttered at the windows, offering a cozy invitation. It had the look of home to Elisabeth, and she was desperate for one.
Almost as soon as Adam knocked, the door swung open, and Mrs. Tillotson, a tiny, birdlike woman, surveyed them beneath thick white hair and wire spectacles.
“Hello, Mrs. Tillotson.” Adam extended his hand.
“Adam! How good to see you. And I know we have met,”—she looked at Elisabeth—“but I’m having trouble remembering exactly when.”
“I’m Jed…and Mary Greenwood’s daughter.” She stumbled over those words then hurried on. “When you were at the trading post—”
“Of course! I would have recognized you instantly if I had seen you in that area. Just wasn’t expecting you in Denver. It’s good to see you, my dear.”
“It’s nice to see you,” Elisabeth said, shaking her hand.
“Please! Come inside and let me make a pot of tea. You two must be half-frozen. It’s such a cold day.”
The little woman bustled ahead of them, down a narrow hallway, motioning them to a room off to the right. “Go into the parlor and warm yourselves. I have a fire going. I’ll get that tea.”
As they entered the small room and looked around, Elisabeth saw that it was filled with touches of home and family. Framed photographs of a man and woman dominated tables covered with crocheted doilies, needlepoint pillows graced the sofa, and sturdy rocking chairs were drawn near a cozy fire in a small hearth.
Adam looked around. “Mr. Tillotson must be out. Let’s have a seat.” He motioned her to the nearest chair.
As Elisabeth took a seat, enjoying the cheery fire, Mrs. Tillotson bustled back, carrying a tray with a china teapot and cups. “Luckily, I already had the kettle going so there’s no wait,” she called over her shoulder.
“We’ll be glad to get some tea,” Adam replied. “How is Mr. Tillotson?”
Turning to face them, the older woman’s smile gave way to a terrible sadness as she put the tray on a table and sighed. “You don’t know, of course. He passed away a couple of weeks ago.”
Adam went to her side, hugging her gently. “No, I didn’t know. I’m sorry to hear that. He was a wonderful man.”
“Yes, he was,” she sniffed, reaching into her apron pocket for a lace handkerchief. “We never had children and I am so lonely. But he died suddenly. I’m thankful for that.” She dabbed her eyes and looked across at Elisabeth. “Young lady, what brings you to Denver?”
Elisabeth hesitated, looking at Adam.
“Could we get some hot tea first, Mrs. Tillotson?” Adam intervened.
“Oh, of course.” She turned to fill the cups.
As she poured tea, Elisabeth tried to explain that her mother had passed away, and that before she died she told Elisabeth to come to Denver. “I plan to get a job here and—”
“Then, you must stay with me! I have a spare bedroom, and I need the company. I miss my husband awfully. You must miss your mother, too. She was a good woman.”
Elisabeth nodded, sipping her tea to ward off the tightness that clutched at her throat. She was aware of both Adam and Mrs. Tillotson watching her thoughtfully, and she couldn’t bear the thought of breaking into tears in front of them. Clearing her throat, she tried to think of the practical matters involved in living with Mrs. Tillotson.
“Mrs. Tillotson,” she said, “I expect to pay for my room and board.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Please. It’s the only way I’ll feel comfortable about staying.”
The little lady lifted her shoulders in a light shrug. “Well, since you put it that way…But only after you’re settled into a job.” She looked at Adam. “How is the mission field?”
He sighed. “Busier than ever. There are so many to reach, so much territory to cover—”
“You can’t do it all. It’s an impossible task. Which is why our missionary society has launched a campaign to get some outposts established. Aspen Valley is on our list.”
“Is that right?” Adam smiled politely.
“Yes. It’s only your youth and enthusiasm that allows you to cover so much territory, and we know there are many trappers and traders back there who need a church. And the Indians desperately need to hear the Word of God.”
Adam looked across at Elisabeth, who dropped her eyes.
“Are you two hungry?” Mrs. Tillotson asked suddenly.
“Oh no,” Elisabeth replied, glancing at Adam.
“Actually, we have business to take care of. We’re going to the livery to sell Elisabeth’s mare. Then I have to be on my way home.”
Elisabeth felt her heart sink upon hearing those words. She hated the thought of Adam leaving, but she knew there was nothing she could do about it. She felt guilty for taking up so much of his time, when Mrs. Tillotson had just pointed out how busy he was.
“You’ll stay for supper, won’t you? I won’t hear of you riding back into the wilds on an empty stomach.”
“Since you put it that way,”—Adam grinned—“I will be pleased to stay for one of your good meals. Then I’ll be on my way.”
The day passed all too quickly, for the knowledge that Adam was leaving lay heavy on Elisabeth’s mind. He had obtained a good price for her mare and instructed her how to best stretch her money until she found work. Then they sat down to a tasty meal with Mrs. Tillotson. It was obvious that the tiny widow had missed having conversations with someone, for she began to talk as soon as she served them.
“I wish that crazy war down south hadn’t started,” Mrs. Tillotson complained. “Are you worried about your family down there, Adam?”
Adam sighed and nodded slowly, staring at his cup. “My father is still in east Tennessee.”
Elisabeth stared at Adam, sensing his concern.
“Bless you.” Mrs. Tillotson leaned forward, laying a small hand on his arm. “When did you last hear from your family?”
“I haven’t heard from my father in years. I write him but he rarely answers.” He took a deep breath and turned sad eyes to Mrs. Tillotson. “He wanted me to say in the South, but my calling was in the West.”
Mrs. Tillotson was wiggling in her seat, her concern obvious. “Do you think he might get involved in this awful mess?”
“His health is poor and we have no family. I doubt that he will leave his farm if it’s possible for him to stay there.”
Mrs. Tillotson nodded and sighed. Then something else seemed to occur to her. “Don’t you think men are warriors at heart, Adam?”
Elisabeth watched Adam grin at her and speak pleasantly, even though some men would take offense at such a question.
“Now, why do you say that, Mrs. Tillotson?”
“I’m not talking about you, of course, or my husband, God rest his soul. It just seems that so many men have to have a gun or tomahawk in their hands and drive their horses into battle. I think it goes back to something primal in our bloodline when warriors sat before the fire each evening discussing their victories and their losses.”
Elisabeth’s glance slid from Adam to Mrs. Tillotson then back to the vegetables on her plate. Each time the word tomahawk was mentioned, she found herself shifting or twisting or feeling uncomfortable. She had to stop acting this way. Adam was half-Cherokee and he didn’t seem to take offense.
Adam spoke up. “About the war…I never agreed with slavery. I’m afraid the South is in for some hard times because a lot of people are resisting change. But it’s too bad that there has to be a war to settle the differences between North and South.”
“It’s just terrible.” Mrs. Tillotson shook her head.
“Well,” Adam said, rising from the table, “I really must get started. I have a long ride ahead. Mrs. Tillotson, I’m grateful for your wonderful meal.”
“You’re more than welcome, Adam,” she said as her eyes moved to Elisabeth. “And I’m grateful for my new companion.”
“I’ll say good evening, then.”
“I’ll walk with you.” Elisabeth stood quickly, hating the thought of saying good-bye.
“I appreciate all you’ve done,” she said as they walked out the front door. “You rescued me at the Ute camp, you took me to the post, and now you’ve brought me here. And thanks for selling my mare.” As she looked up at him, she felt a ridiculous urge to burst into tears.
“I’ve enjoyed being with you, Elisabeth. And I’ll be praying for you.”
“I’ll need your prayers,”—she forced a smile—“but I’ll be fine here.” She looked up at the sky where only the pale sickle moon rested against the clouds. “It’s an awful dark night for you to be riding back.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Again, Adam, I don’t know how to thank you,” Elisabeth said, as they reached the hitching rail and he began to untie his horse.
“No thanks are necessary. On second thought…” He turned back to her. “There is something you can do for me.”
Elisabeth was puzzled. He had never asked anything from her.
“What is it?”
“I want you to try and resolve who you are. It doesn’t really matter who your earthly parents are. We all have the same Father, the same loving God. There’s a verse in the Bible that I sometimes give to the people who call on me for advice when they are having financial or family problems. I give them Matthew 6:33: ‘Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.’”
She nodded thoughtfully. “So you’re saying when I accept God I will have my heritage?”
“That’s what I’m trying to say.”
He couldn’t really understand what she was going through. No one could. But she knew he meant well.
“You are a very special, lady, Elisabeth.” Their eyes locked, and he seemed to read the conflict that raged within her. He turned to leave, saying no more.
Her hand s
hot to his arm, touching his sleeve lightly. “Have a safe trip back.”
He nodded, gripping her hand. Then, as if on impulse, he lowered his head and kissed her gently.
Elisabeth’s senses reeled. This was her first kiss, and she had never felt anything like the tenderness and gentleness that was Adam. When he drew back from her and their dark eyes met in the sparse moonlight, she felt her heart beating faster.
“I must go,” Adam said, pulling up into the saddle.
Nodding, she waved to him and watched him ride off into the night. Then, as he disappeared, a terrible loneliness swept over her. It was only then that she began to realize she had fallen in love with Adam.
Chapter Ten
As Elisabeth sat at the kitchen table having coffee with Mrs. Tillotson, she related her frustration over not having found a job.
“Well,” Mrs. Tillotson said, “I don’t know if this would interest you, but there’s a new photographer in town. He’s set up shop in that little building next to the newspaper office. He has no help. Why don’t you talk to him?”
“That’s a good idea. Thanks for mentioning it, Mrs. Tillotson.”
Photographer. How interesting. She couldn’t wait to go and speak with him about a job. So far there was nothing available in the hotels or restaurants where she had tried. Adam had been right; many women had gotten in line ahead of her to get a job, and most jobs available were already taken. She had been looking for over a week now, but she tried to hide her discouragement from Mrs. Tillotson, who had been so encouraging.
“I’ll go today,” Elisabeth said, finishing her tea.
Elisabeth located the Gallery, as the sign read, and quickly decided to work for whatever he could pay her if he would just hire her. She needed the money; furthermore, she needed something to occupy her mind. Added to her sadness over her mother’s death was the sharp ache of missing Adam, much more than she had dreamed possible.
She stood for a moment before the false-front shop, taking a deep breath. She’d never had any experience at this sort of work, and for a moment she felt rather foolish. Just then a funny little man opened the door. He was small, with brown eyes and hair, and a long nose above a handlebar mustache.
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