by Val Wood
They blew another small hole, which widened the gap but not enough, and the men decided to leave any further blasting until the following day. They were dirty and tired and only wanted to eat and then go to their beds.
‘Tomorrow I’ll ride to Philadelphia and fetch Miss O’Neil and some of the others,’ Wilhelm decided. ‘We must make a start.’ He seemed very low after the altercation with Ted, Georgiana thought, and she sat with him for a while, talking of this and that to try and make him more cheerful.
‘It’s all right, Georgiana,’ he murmured after a while. ‘You do not need to humour me. It is only that I have had a disappointment. Life does sometimes have a way of making us look again at ourselves.’
She agreed that was true, but added that she didn’t like to see him cast down.
He gave her a pensive smile and gently patted her hand. ‘I have been much lower than this. It will pass, I expect.’
Georgiana, riding off behind Lake as the men were sitting down to their supper, wondered if anyone would notice that they were both missing. She had told Kitty that she was going into the mountains in case she should worry about her. She glanced back as they crossed over the new bridge and saw Wilhelm standing at the longhouse door looking down the valley towards them.
The sun was such a vivid red as they reached a high bluff that they shielded their eyes from it. They dismounted and watched the shadows on the mountains grow longer and darker as the sun went down, leaving flaming scarlet streaks in the sky.
‘It is so beautiful,’ Georgiana murmured. ‘I don’t wonder that you escape to be alone here.’
He reached out and drew her towards him. ‘There are times when I don’t wish to be alone.’ He stroked her hair. ‘There are times when I am lonely.’ He kissed her lips. ‘Since I met you, Gianna, I have often been lonely.’ He cupped her face in his hands. ‘But it is the course I have chosen.’
She put her arms around his waist. ‘Is it the only life for you?’ she asked softly, knowing that in his world there wasn’t a place for her.
‘It is the only life,’ he replied. ‘It is what I know. Out here in the mountains I know who I am.’
‘Who are you?’ she murmured.
‘Not Indian, nor white man. I am at one with the elements of nature, the solitude and silence. The spirits of the forest and the mountains know that I am just one of the many creatures who live here.’
‘A mountain man?’ she said, understanding by his words that he was more Indian than white man.
‘Yes.’ He took her into his arms. Gently he lowered her and himself to the ground and she didn’t resist. ‘You are beautiful, Gianna. If I was a different kind of man I would want you as my woman – my squaw.’ He kissed her again. ‘But this is a hard life and I would not wish it on you, or any woman.’
‘But some women follow the mountain men,’ she said, resting her head on his chest.
‘Those women have no other choice.’ Slowly he unbuttoned her bodice and she drew her head back, exposing her throat and conscious of the pulse throbbing there. ‘They are poor Indian women, cast out from their tribe and reliant on the drunken trappers to look after them. They are not women such as you.’
‘What kind of woman am I?’ She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, feeling the muscular strength beneath her fingers. ‘You don’t know me.’
‘I know you,’ he said softly, and slipped her shirt over her shoulders, where she shrugged it free. He buried his mouth in the tender hollow beneath her neck and shoulder and sucked gently on her skin. ‘I know that you are my woman. That whilst I am on this earth you are mine.’
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. ‘Isn’t that so?’
‘Yes,’ she breathed, her lips moist and her body yielding. ‘It is so.’
He pulled her down to lie in his arms and she smelt the sharp scent of pine needles, the sweet musky odour of animals, and felt his warm breath on her cheek. She heard the rustle and sigh of the wind in the tree tops as he whispered to her. ‘You know that you and I have no tomorrow? We only have today.’
She brushed her cheek against his. ‘I only know – that I love you and always will.’
The stars were bright in the dark sky as they reached the bridge and a full moon was shining, its luminescence lighting up the creek and the valley and touching the roofs of the cabins with silver. Lake drew in before riding onto the bridge and put his head to one side, listening. He raised his hand to his ear as if to capture whatever it was that he heard.
‘What is it?’ Georgiana whispered.
He shook his head. ‘Something. I don’t know.’ He sniffed the air like a dog and listened again. His horse too pricked his ears and snorted restlessly.
Then from the western end of the valley came a crack of light and a mighty explosion which echoed and reverberated around the valley.
Georgiana screamed, ‘What’s happened?’ and clung to Lake’s waist as the horse reared and he fought to control it.
‘The rock face has been blown up! The water’s coming! Hold on! We must get across it before it reaches the bridge.’
In the split second before Lake dug his heels into the horse’s flanks, Georgiana shot a glance along the valley and saw a force of turbulent foaming water heading down the creek towards them.
Ted, she thought, as they galloped across the wooden structure. He’s done it, even though Wilhelm told him not to. Oh, no! Suppose he’s been killed! Stupid, stupid man!
They reached the other side as the torrent rushed at the bridge, churning and frothing around the uprights and swirling over the base and sides before continuing its path towards the newly blasted exit at the bottom of the valley.
Shouts were echoing down the valley and in the moonlight they saw people running towards the scene of the explosion. Two men on horseback were already galloping down. Lake urged his horse on and as they reached the longhouse, he drew to a halt. ‘Go inside,’ he said to her. ‘Prepare bandaging in case someone is hurt.’
‘But—’ she began but he was already urging her off the horse. Then she saw Kitty running down the valley, her skirts and hair flying. ‘No,’ she refused, clinging onto him. ‘If Ted is dead, Kitty will need me with her.’
He nodded and dug his heels in so sharply that she almost slid off, and galloped towards the western end of the vale. He reined in as he reached Kitty, and leaning down he scooped her up in front of him.
‘That eejit!’ she shrieked. ‘Mr Dreumel said he shouldn’t use that stuff. He said it was dangerous! But would he listen?’ Her voice was high-pitched and tremulous. ‘Miss Georgiana! Suppose he’s dead!’
Georgiana made no answer. She was looking to the front where a breach had appeared in the rock face and where the waters of the creek from the other valley were pouring through, rushing and tumbling as if escaping at last from a long confinement.
It will never be the same again, she thought as they cantered towards the boundary. Another bridge will be built over the creek and a road through to the next valley, linking the two. In her imagination she could see a community of log houses, a grocery store, a saloon, children playing in the meadows, cattle grazing on the lower slopes, and knew that now it would come.
It has to be shared, she mused. This vast country which has room for everyone to fulfil their dreams. And if Robert Allen – Ted – has taken a risk or even has to die in his attempt to achieve his dream, then so be it. We all take a risk at some time in our lives. I have taken one tonight in declaring my love for a wild mountain man, when I know there is no future with him.
She slipped down from the horse as Lake reined in and grasped Kitty fast to stop her running ahead to where Ted was staggering with his hand to his head and Wilhelm was trying to support him.
‘I’m all right! I’m all right!’ Ted could hardly stand yet he wouldn’t sit down. His face was spattered with blood and he clutched his elbow as if it was painful. ‘I got blown by the blast!’ He was shouting. ‘I’m sorry, Bill. I know y
ou said – said – God, my head hurts!’ He collapsed in a heap on the ground just as Kitty, released from Georgiana’s arms, raced up.
‘You eejit! Are you all right? I could kill you. In God’s name, what do you think you were doing?’
Ted looked up. ‘What?’ he bellowed. ‘What do you say?’
‘I said you’re an eejit,’ she screeched at him. ‘What about this bairn I’m carrying? I could be a widow woman afore I’m married, so I could!’ In her terror and relief, her Irish and Yorkshire phrasing commingled.
‘I can’t hear you.’ He shook his head and pressed his fingers to his ears. ‘I’m deaf.’
‘Daft, you are, never mind deaf!’ Kitty started to cry and Georgiana put her arm around her waist.
‘He’ll be all right,’ she soothed. ‘The men will take him back to the longhouse. He probably has concussion.’
The other men were arriving now and some of them had come on horseback. They put Ted onto one of the horses and slowly walked him back, whilst Georgiana and Kitty cantered ahead with Lake to prepare a bed and bandaging.
‘I was going to tell you about ’bairn, miss,’ Kitty sniffled. ‘But I wanted to be sure and I wanted to tell Ted first. Now everybody knows but him, cos he couldn’t hear me. Do you think he’ll get his hearing back?’ she asked anxiously.
‘I don’t know,’ Georgiana admitted. ‘I suppose it will depend on how near he was to the blast. Perhaps it will come back after a day or two.’
Ted was carried in and put to bed and Kitty bathed his head and face, which were covered with cuts from the flying rock. ‘You were never much of an oil painting,’ Kitty moaned at him as she tenderly applied warm water and washed the blood away. ‘Now you’re going to be scarred for ever!’ Tears ran down her face.
‘Can’t hear you,’ he mumbled. ‘Don’t know what you’re saying.’ He reached for her free hand. ‘Sorry, Kitty. I didn’t want to scare you. My old da was injured in a mining accident, never thought it would happen to me. But it was my choice.’ His words were slurred. ‘He never had one.’ He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. Then, putting his head back, he closed his eyes.
Kitty stared at him. ‘He’s not—?’ Her voice was thin and frightened and her mouth trembled.
‘No.’ Lake stood there. ‘Don’t worry. Nature has taken over and put him to sleep.’ He lifted up a lock of black hair from his forehead to show a scar. ‘I fell from a rock when I was a boy and knocked myself out. I slept for two days.’ He nodded towards Ted. ‘He’ll wake up with a bad headache and he might not remember what happened.’
Wilhelm came to stand by the bed. He looked down at Ted. ‘The flood is slowing,’ he said. ‘The water is finding its own channel.’
‘Where will it go?’ Georgiana asked. ‘Will it flood the plain?’
‘It will find its own course down the outcrop,’ Lake answered. ‘It might join up with other waters or make a lake. One day men will change its direction again, but for the moment the water will make its own way.’
Wilhelm looked round the room. Only Georgiana, Kitty, Lake and he were there. The other men had gone outside to watch the progress of the water as it rushed through the valley.
‘It’s a pity he’s asleep.’ He nodded towards the bed where Ted lay. ‘I shall have to wait until he’s recovered before I can tell him the good news.’ He jiggled a lump of rock in his hand.
‘What news, Mr Dreumel?’ Kitty asked.
‘I went back to look at the site where he’d placed the explosives.’ He held out the rock to show them. He gave a grin. ‘There’s gold!’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Lake left the next day, but before he did he took Georgiana to one side. ‘I have something for you,’ he said gruffly, and unfastened one of his packs. He handed her a fur cape. ‘Beaver. The best.’ And she could see that it was. Quite unlike the pelts he had sold to Charlesworth, though it was roughly sewn this was the most beautiful, soft and desirable fur she had ever seen.
‘It will keep you warm when winter comes.’
‘It’s lovely.’ She held the fur to her face. ‘Will I not see you again before winter?’ she asked.
‘Perhaps. Perhaps not. I shall go north again.’
And that is how it will always be, she thought as she watched him ride away over the bridge.
Ted awoke two days later and, as Lake had predicted, he had a bad headache. He was also deaf in one ear. But he was jubilant about the finding of gold and keen to be out of bed to start work on the new shaft.
‘I want to speak seriously to you,’ Wilhelm said to him. He, Georgiana and Kitty were sitting by the stove in the longhouse, now converted to a saloon with a counter, tables and chairs, but with Ted’s makeshift bed in the middle of the room. ‘There will be no more acting alone. We will consult with the committee and decide what is to be done. Our lives are about to change and our decisions now, at the beginning of this new era, will influence our future.’
Ted nodded. He had been shocked when he realized that he might have been killed. Kitty had told him that she was carrying his child. ‘I never thought—’ he said. ‘I didn’t expect to become a family man.’
‘Don’t tell me that no-one told you how babies are made!’ Kitty stood with one hand on her apron-clad hip. ‘Didn’t you have any learning?’
‘Not that kind.’ He grinned. ‘So I suppose we’d better get married?’
‘You suppose right,’ she said firmly. ‘Just as soon as Miss Georgiana finds us a parson.’
Georgiana and Wilhelm went back to Philadelphia, returning a few weeks later with a parson riding on a small pony. Nellie O’Neil followed behind in a waggon which was laden with barrels and casks. She was dressed flamboyantly in a flounced purple satin gown, with a green feathered hat and travelling cape. Bright beads and glittering jewels bedecked her neck and fingers.
‘Well, I’ll be danged!’ Isaac stood at the saloon door. ‘If it ain’t Nellie Murphy.’
‘Nellie O’Neil,’ she answered primly. ‘Howdy, Isaac, you old dawg! Fancy seeing you here.’
The parson, a handsome young man, looked around the valley. ‘I’d like to stay here,’ he said. ‘Can I build a church?’
Isaac, after unloading Nellie’s waggon and stacking the barrels and casks in the saloon, disappeared for a while. When he reappeared he had trimmed his beard, had a bath, washed his hair and was wearing a bright blue waistcoat.
‘Goodness,’ Georgiana said to Kitty. ‘What a transformation. Isaac looks ten years younger. He must have a sweet spot for Mrs O’Neil.’
‘Call me Nellie.’ The subject of their conversation appeared from under the bar counter. ‘Isaac and me go way back. He was a handsome buck in his time. Gone to seed a bit since then.’ She patted her curls. ‘But I guess we’ll all do that sooner or later.’
One of the carpenters asked Wilhelm for leave of absence. ‘Don’t sell my plot to anyone else,’ he pleaded. ‘I just want to go home to fetch my wife and daughter, my boy, my cow and my dawg. I’ll be back in five, maybe six, weeks. Then I’ll start building us a log house ready for winter.’
‘But where will your family live whilst you’re building it?’ Wilhelm asked. The three carpenters and the wheelwright had been sharing a cabin.
‘In the waggon,’ he said. ‘’Cept fer the cow.’
The other carpenters started to build the church for the wedding. Wilhelm, Ted, Ellis, Jason and Pike, the original party who had now formed a committee to run Dreumel’s Creek, pondered future developments. Would it be feasible to cross the creek and blow another opening in the rock, so making a road through to the other valley?
‘You’ll all have a stake in this,’ Wilhelm told them at a meeting in the saloon. ‘You’ve shared the hard times. Now it looks as if our fortune is about to change. There is a great deal of work in front of us, but one day we will have a thriving community here.’
‘I want to tell you all something.’ Ted stood up and faced everyone. ‘Kitty and me are go
ing to be married as soon as the church is ready. Now, I’ve never been one for church-going, but I’m a bit scared of standing in front of God and the preacher and saying words that might not be true.’
He glanced at Kitty, Georgiana and Wilhelm. ‘Some of you know my history already, but I’d like to tell the rest of you that my name isn’t Ted Newmarch. Edward Newmarch was my employer and he disappeared in New Orleans, so I took his name. It doesn’t matter now why I did, but if you’re interested then I’ll tell you sometime. My real name is Robert Allen and that is the name I’ll be married by. Kitty will be Mrs Allen, but if you still want to call me Ted, then that’s all right. I’ve sort of got used to it.’ He looked down at his boots. ‘I just wanted you to know, that’s all.’
Later Georgiana and Wilhelm sat on the bench outside the saloon. There was a drift of conversation and laughter – even the parson Francis Birchfield was in there. He had been helping to build the church and as he swung an axe, sawed logs and hammered nails in preparation for his own place of worship he sang joyful hymns.
‘Everything is going well,’ Wilhelm was saying. ‘Tomorrow we start blasting through the mountain to make a road into the next valley.’
‘I’m very worried about that,’ Georgiana said. ‘None of you are engineers. Suppose the mountain comes crashing down?’
He reassured her. ‘It won’t. It didn’t when Ted made the opening for the creek. Though we won’t use that same explosive.’ There had been a vast amount of rock fall which had spread around the valley, but the mountain stood as impenetrable as ever.
Georgiana’s thoughts turned to Lake. He had said to her that the mountains were immovable, that no matter how man treated them, only the spirits of the mountain could destroy them. She breathed a small sigh. She was missing him, yet she was content. So very happy. Her face creased into a smile.
Wilhelm saw it. ‘You’re happy, Georgiana?’
She turned to him. ‘Yes. I am.’
‘I’m glad.’ He took her hand and held it. He had a catch in his voice. ‘So very glad for you.’
