by Marian Wells
“Oh, Daniel, I’m so sorry I’m such a baby.” She stopped, gulped and took a deep breath. “I was with the Withrops. We rode down to the settlement. You must have gone right past us.”
“I saw his wagon.”
Amy rubbed gently at the wind-chafed redness of his face. “Has the weather been bad? It snowed here. I worried so. Sometimes I feel like you’ll just drift out of my life and I’ll never see you again.”
His eyes were studying her curiously and she could guess at the questions. “I know. You wonder why I feel this now, when before I spent all my time running away from you.” She shook her head. “Daniel, I honestly don’t know. But I guess back then I feared more’n I’ll ever be able to put into words. Maybe I was afraid to love. But now—Daniel I can’t understand why.”
She gave a shaky laugh and added, “I suppose we’ve had the strangest start to married life that ever a couple could have. A year ago I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. We met, married, and then—”
“Everything fell apart for me when you took off.”
“Daniel, it did for me too. I can admit it now. A silly spoiled baby. At least that’s what I wanted to be. I had some strange ideas about marriage.”
“Like what?”
“That once we were married you’d spend the rest of your life running after what I wanted. I guess,” she added slowly, “these past weeks when I’ve been alone so much, I’m learning to think straight. Marriage is love and hungering after each other, but it’s more, isn’t it?”
“You say it.”
“Learning to think the other person’s needs are more important than your own.”
Daniel frowned and lifted her face. The frown disappeared as he studied her eyes. “I have some learning to do, too. Maybe learning from you. Amy, I have my own problems, of learning to trust both you and God in a deeper way.”
As she snuggled into his arms, she began thinking of Crystal. Seeing the woman had reminded Amy of the lonely time in Buckskin Joe. She was ready to talk about Crystal and those fears when Daniel lifted her face and kissed her.
When she got up to prepare their supper, he said, “I saw the folks.”
Amy frowned. “Wherever have you been?”
“Oh, I didn’t leave the circuit. I met Mother and Father just on the other side of Granite. They said Dyer’s been at them to go down and look over New Mexico Territory. Says he’s had the place on his mind for a year now, fretting because the church hasn’t ventured into the area yet.”
He threw her a quick glance. “I spent the evening talking to them. Your father has given up his charge in Central City. They were on their way to New Mexico.”
Amy turned slowly. “The church and the circuit? You mean Father is no longer pastor of the church?” She couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice.
“Of any church. I’d guessed he would feel he must.”
He came to Amy as she turned back to the stove. Resting his hand on her shoulder, he watched the play of expression on her face as she pondered his statement. Glancing up she said, “Is it because of Mother?”
“Of course,” Daniel said. “He didn’t want to put her through the kind of scrutiny the bishop must use. You know, Amy, it’s an awkward situation, not only for your mother, but also for the church. It isn’t often a pastor has a former dancehall girl for a wife.”
Amy winced. She stirred the beans simmering on the stove as she listened. He added, “You and I know enough of the facts to let us live easy with the situation. But it could be painful for them to be forced to justify their actions in the past and now.”
Amy nodded. “Father feels partly to blame because he didn’t forgive her years ago.”
“And Silverheels—I mean, Mother—insists all the buffalo in Kansas wouldn’t have kept her home.” He paused. “I think all the circumstances—your finding her, the smallpox, even the revival meeting in Buckskin Joe was the Lord’s grace, helping her make the recommitment both to God and your father.”
“To any outsider the story would be ugly. Daniel, she’s my mother. She’s caused Father and me a great deal of hurt. You’ve been reminding me that when the Lord forgives, we dare not do otherwise.” She glanced up at him. “But thinking of the genuine love I feel for her now, I’m certain the Lord has put it in me.”
She stirred the beans and added, “I suppose one of these days, I’ll get over being so glad she’s back that I’ll want to begin asking questions.”
Daniel spoke slowly. “I have an idea that would do more harm than good. Amy, for your sake as well as hers, let Mother decide what should be said and when. Let’s respect her silence now. No matter what, we must try to keep from judging her by the past. Better our questions go unanswered than to allow ourselves to be warped by her past.” Amy nodded as he added. “Otherwise you’d have no peace over the situation.”
“Silverheels,” Amy mused, “the beautiful madam, with her jewels and fancy clothes, with her men friends. How could she be content now?”
“Can’t you believe in the changes that have happened in her? Amy, you can’t live forever judging her by what she’s done in the past; you’ve got to trust her—we all must.”
Abruptly Amy’s head jerked. “But isn’t that what you were doing?”
Daniel frowned. “What do you mean? When?”
“You looked…unbelieving when I said how much I missed you when you were away.”
After a moment Daniel admitted reluctantly, “I suppose. Amy, sometimes our finally being together seems like a dream, and sometimes I’m afraid to believe you’ve changed this quickly.”
Amy bit her lip and went to the shelf to lift down the plates. He saw her face and apologized, “I’m sorry. You were right. I was judging by the past.”
She whispered, “Will our todays always be shadowed by that horrible time?”
He hesitated, then asked, “Have you so easily given up the need to have security on your terms?”
She looked into his brooding face. “Daniel, is that fair? You don’t understand, to a woman, having a sense of security is important. There are things we need so badly.” Amy sighed heavily as she thought of the rocking chair she wanted, the rug and a new kettle.
Finally she tilted her chin at Daniel. “I’m not complaining. It’s just this gnawing inside.” Now the words burst out. “If somehow we could have a piano, I’d think heaven was on earth.”
He smiled down at her and she recognized it as the special smile reserved for her.
“If you ever use that smile on someone else, Daniel Gerrett, I’ll use the broom on you.” He was grinning now and she sighed with relief.
“And Mrs. Gerrett, if you’ll sit on my lap just a moment before you dish up the beans, I’ll tell you why I am smiling.”
She came, whispering, “Daniel, I must confess. I feel that way too. Nearly afraid our happiness will evaporate. Sometimes when you’re gone, I get to wondering if all this is real. Then the happiness is almost scary.”
Holding her close with his lips against her neck, he nodded. When he lifted his head, he grinned and said, “I am going to make certain that one of these days you will have a piano. I may have to dig gold in all my free time, but a piano you will have. I’ll seal that promise with a kiss.”
“Oh, Daniel!” She swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed away the nagging thought that Daniel was dreaming dreams as frothy as hers. Amy lifted her face. “Love,” she whispered as she desperately determined to think of nothing except these brief days alone with Daniel.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, pressing his face against hers.
“Time,” she murmured. “It seems to fly when you’re here and drag when you’re gone. Will it always be like this?”
“I hope not.”
As she got to her feet she sighed, thinking, I’ll just have to hang on to what I have—the Sabbath. Only the Lord knows how hard it is to release him on Monday morning. For five days he doesn’t belong to me. He eats some other woman’s
cooking and sleeps in a stranger’s bed. I don’t know when he’s sick, or whether he’s had to outrun the Indians. He’s not my husband; he’s pastor to the mining camps.
Daniel came to stand beside her. “Amy, I don’t like being gone all week. Sure, I’m busy except when I’m riding the trails, but at night I wonder how your day has gone. I miss you too.”
His words made it easy for her to admit, “I’m not charitable. I want you home, and when you are gone, I find nothing to do except count the days.” She faced him. “I know your schedule. I try to imagine the places you go. This week it’s Twin Lakes; next week will be Granite and Salida.”
On Sunday Amy stood watching the early morning sun stream through the window, and thinking how quickly the weekend was over. As she turned back to the table and the pile of dirty dishes, the sun was warm on her shoulders. A feeling nearly like contentment wrapped around her as she looked from the sunshine pooled on the table to the steam rising from the teakettle.
Wiggling her shoulders in the warmth, she went back to her task of stuffing a chicken for dinner. Nodding toward Daniel, she said, “It’s clear and springlike this morning. I don’t believe we’ll need a fire in the church today.”
Daniel raised his head and closed the Bible. “That is so.” He studied her curiously. “What are we celebrating? Can’t do that too often—there aren’t that many chickens.”
“I don’t think you get fed very well. You come home looking thinner than ever.”
In a moment Daniel came to the table. “I’ll help. Amy, next week when I head down Granite way, would you like to go along? You’ve been invited by the folks in every place I’ve stopped. In addition, the horse Mother gave us could use a good workout. Right now the trails are safe. It’s too early for the Indians to be up to their tricks.”
Amy grinned up at him. “Daniel, my dear husband, you don’t have to beg! That would be wonderful. After these weeks of being alone, even horseback sounds like a treat.”
After she put the chicken on to cook, she took up her shawl and followed him out the door. This morning she smiled and nodded contentedly all the way to church.
Today it didn’t matter that the Oro City church was only a deserted log cabin, swept and lined with crude benches; nor did it matter too much that most of the miners continued pouring ore into the sluices on the Lord’s day. Daniel was here and in another week they would be riding the trails together.
On the bench beside the Withrops, under cover of her spreading skirt, Amy counted the days until they could be on the road. She must remember to ask if there would be a home for them to stay in each night.
Monday morning Daniel headed his horse down the gulch just as the sun cleared the mountains. His breath left a rim of frost on the muffler Amy had tucked under his chin. With one hand he loosened it while he flicked the reins against the horse’s flanks.
When he turned out of the gulch, he could feel the sun warm on his back. The horse loped down the road, cutting along the edge of the settlement at the mouth of the gulch. “Gee haw!” Daniel heeded the shout behind him and yanked on the reins as the Denver stage surged out onto the road.
He watched the long whip snap across the backs of the horses as the coach took the corner, swaying dangerously close to the rocky edge. Shaking his head, he muttered, “There’s going to be an uncomfortable trip for that bunch. Pity the pressure’s on the fellas to the point they take risks when they shouldn’t.”
With the road to himself, Daniel hunkered down into his collar and allowed the mare to set her gait. “Well, Father Dyer,” he muttered, addressing his absent mentor with a wry grin, “there’s virtue in riding shank’s mare, but I get more prayin’ and sermonizing done when I don’t have to watch where I put my feet.”
It was nearly noon when Daniel caught up with the stage. Rounding a curve on the narrow mountain road, he straightened and pulled back on the reins. The stage was tipped, leaning against the side of the mountain. The driver and some of the passengers were huddled around the team.
The wind caught the open door of the coach and banged it as Daniel slipped from his horse and approached the group. The youthful driver lifted his white face, saying, “Aw, the thing’s dumped.”
Shaking his head in sympathy, Daniel asked, “Team down?”
“One of the lead mares. Think we’ll be hard up to save her.”
“Can three horses pull the stage?” Daniel turned at the soft question. The plumed velvet bonnet was tilted toward the driver. Daniel studied the wine-red velvet of the woman’s cloak and matching bonnet before he turned away. He had stepped close to the driver and had his mouth open to question the youth when the men around the stagecoach moved. He heard the sharp whinny then the dull report of the rifle.
For a moment they were all silent. At last the cold cutting wind throwing snow and dust against the bottom of the stage released the silent, motionless group. The woman shivered and Daniel said, “We’d better get the stage back on its wheels.”
The driver looked around the group of sober-faced passengers, and his shaky grin added weight to his words. “It’s getting cold. Better give it a try before we all freeze.”
The chubby red-faced dandy pulled at his lapels and said, “Looks to me like the accident smashed a wheel on the rocks. Besides, there’s only three of us to set that thing upright, not counting the young lady.”
She turned her bonnet toward Daniel as he spoke. “I’m headed Twin Lakes way—” He hesitated and peered at the face shadowed by the bonnet. “I could contact the livery stable.”
The bonnet faced the driver. “I would like one of the horses to ride with the gentleman. I must be in Twin Lakes before nightfall.”
“Ma’am—” he protested feebly.
She added, “Besides, I’ll freeze waiting in this cold.”
In the end, Daniel watched the two male passengers crawl into the tilted stagecoach. Shortly afterward the driver galloped down the road on one of the horses. Daniel was left to wrap a buffalo robe around the woman and lift her onto his own mount. He said, “I’ll make do with one of the team. I know my mare’s gentle.”
His hunch was confirmed as he helped the woman mount, but he said nothing until they had left the stagecoach behind. Then he turned to the woman riding beside him, “Crystal Thomas, formerly coveted queen of the Tabor boardinghouse kitchen. I am surprised to see you here.”
She added words to his thoughts. “And you are wondering why I am here and what—”
“Fabulous gold mine you have found.” He saw the flush spread across her cheeks. Gently he added, “And why is it imperative you reach Twin Lakes before sundown? Your cloak impresses me as being adequately warm.”
She was still silent, and Daniel was surprised. The words crowding Daniel’s thoughts came out. “You have a beautiful voice, Miss Crystal Thomas, but more than that—I watched you at revival services in Buckskin Joe. I decided you had a beautiful soul. I can’t believe my impression was wrong. Now I’m wondering why you haven’t filled the preacher’s ears with your explanations—for all of it.”
She turned troubled eyes Daniel’s direction and softly said, “Thank you, Parson. And it’s Mrs. Thomas.”
They were on the outskirts of Twin Lakes when she said, “I thank you again for not pressing me for answers. Now I beg of you. Please forget you’ve seen me. My life—” She paused to bite her lip. As they rode toward the livery stable, she added, “I won’t ask you to believe me, but sometimes things are not what they seem.”
“Lovely cloak,” he murmured.
“Would you believe it’s ancient? Perhaps not. Well, good day, Parson.”
On Monday, after Daniel left Oro City, the clouds rolled in over the mountains and it began to snow. Amy tried to shake off her dismal mood by chiding herself as she went about her tasks. “The first of March, and you’re expecting weather like June.”
By midafternoon she wrapped her shawl around her and headed down the gulch to the Withrop cabin. Lettie met her at
the door, dabbing at her poor red nose. Amy explained, “Yesterday Tom Allen told me there was a new family in the gulch. I’m not certain of the cabin. Do you know anything more? He said their name’s Morgan and they live close to the mouth of the gulch.”
Lettie rubbed her forehead and sighed. “Hank told me about them. Live off the road a piece. Mentioned they had a wagon with blue lettering on the side. Hank said it looked like their rig was patched up with bits from a freight wagon. Had a mite of trouble getting here,” she added, making her way back to the fire.
When Amy sat down beside her, Lettie picked up a coarse sheet of paper and handed it to Amy. “Hank brought this home today. Seems someone’s been passing these things around to the miners.”
Amy studied the paper. “A solicitation for money to buy arms! These names, Jefferson Davis, Robert E. Lee.” She looked at Lettie. Slowly she said, “I recognize these names; every one of them is from the South. From the states that have seceded from the Union.
“Lettie, these people are secessionists—they’re all against the Union! What are they doing in Colorado Territory? I’ve been listening to war talk like it was something happening in a foreign land. Now this puts it in our dooryard. It’s scary. Are they trying to get our money?”
Lettie nodded. “Can’t imagine where the notice came from. Surprises me. Didn’t think there were southern sympathizers around these parts. Makes you feel the fighting is getting too close.”
Slowly Amy spoke her thoughts aloud. “The slaves. I really feel sorry for them. I can’t understand why we must be divided and fight. Why don’t they just let the slaves go free? Lettie, I read the newspaper. There’re people dying. Some women are losing their husbands, and children their fathers. War. Can the South believe slavery is this important?”
Lettie shook her head and shrugged.
Amy left the cabin and started down the road. The snow had begun in earnest. She huddled into her shawl and wished herself home. As she walked, her thoughts were taken up with the things suggested by the handbill. The frightened expression on Lettie’s face made her uneasy. Secessionists in Oro City! Like Lettie, she shivered.
