Prospecting for Love

by Barbara Baldwin

  "Mr. Zeke?" Sarah giggled. "I don't recall ever using that name on him before, although now that I think on it, I don't rightly recall ever knowing his last name."

  Ellie lost the thread of Sarah's conversation as her gaze scanned the shelves. "Oh, my Go...goodness." She corrected herself just as Zeke coughed. "Potato chips; and pork and beans." She grabbed cans of Van Camp's Beans in Tomato Sauce off the shelf. Although she had never heard of Saratoga Chips, she recognized the potato chips by the picture on the front of the cloth bag. There was life in the 1870's after all.

  She dumped her treasures on the counter before a startled Sarah. "Elizabeth," Sarah paused, apparently not sure how to address the pile of merchandise now laying before her. “I realize losing your father must be such a burden, and perhaps you sometimes forget?”

  Ellie watched Sarah’s gaze float from item to item. Zeke poked her in the ribs. She glanced down, and this time saw her items through Sarah’s eyes. Geez. Potato chips were probably bad enough, but flannel shirts, jeans and tobacco? She offered a weak smile, her gaze beseeching Zeke even though she hated, really hated, to admit she needed help.

  Zeke rolled his eyes to the heavens, but did pull her out of the fire. "I'm sure glad you 'membered all those things Jesse and us needed, Miss Elizabeth. My ole mind is getting feeble."

  Ellie shot a glance at Sarah to see if she bought the story. If not, she was too polite to say so, and began writing down the purchases on a small pad. When she reached for the Pork & Beans by Ellie’s hand, she paused instead to finger her wristwatch. Ellie gritted her teeth for the quizzing she was sure would follow.

  “Is that one of those new eastern fashion ideas? I must admit it’s a fair piece easier than always looking at my...chest.” Sarah fingered the watch pinned to her bodice and gave Ellie a grin. Ellie laughed.

  “I keep telling Papa to let me go back east shopping to bring the styles to Peavine, but he insists Mr. Strauss’s jeans are radical enough.”

  Sarah continued chatting away as she wrapped Ellie’s purchases. "I really am glad to see you, Elizabeth. I heard last night that you left town on the stage, and I couldn't help but wonder if you would have been back in time for the wedding."

  "Wedding?" Ellie squeaked. The only wedding she had heard mentioned was Elizabeth’s and Jesse’s, and she sure wasn’t planning that. She gave Zeke a look.

  Zeke politely smiled. "I plumb forgot about you and Henry getting hitched. What day’s that wedding gonna be, Miss Sarah? You know Lucky is awaiting to celebrate." Sarah blushed nicely, Ellie thought, and Zeke could be a real charmer when he wanted.

  "Just a week from this Friday." To Ellie, she added, “You know how shy Henry is. He was half afraid to ask, but was so pleased when Jesse said he would stand up for him, since you were going to be my maid of honor."

  Ellie didn't know how to respond, so just smiled as Sarah handed her the bundles. “I’ll just send this ticket over to the bank on your account.” Sarah slid the paper into a drawer and Ellie wasn’t about to argue.

  Once they were outside the store, Zeke stopped Ellie. “Sarah's wedding to Henry was the biggest shindig Peavine had in a while. I’m thinking the accident was after the wedding, so we got some time to figure out what really happened a’fore it happens all over again."

  “Who’s Henry?” Ellie really did need to get everyone in this melodrama identified.

  “Henry Jefferson. He works as a teller at your daddy’s bank.”

  “Yeah, you really do need to tell me about daddy’s bank,” Ellie added, but Zeke already had his lips puckered up in thought.

  He snapped his fingers and burst out, "Now I recall. The only other big doings in Peavine is the Independence Day celebration and picnic, and that's when Lucky and me got ourselves in trouble. And that means we got less than a month."

  Ellie was feeling benevolent, having her arms wrapped around real clothes, real junk food, and the makings for real cigarettes. Besides, Zeke just said she had less than a month to rough it in Peavine before she could go back home. She gave Zeke the first genuine smile she'd felt since landing in this strange place and imitated his drawl. "Well then, Zeke, I think we'd best get back home and figure us out a plan."

  Chapter 4

  Lucky wasn't easily pacified for the ruse Ellie had pulled to escape him. She finally had to eat some of his cold eggs and biscuits. Considering all the information she had gathered on the streets, she didn't feel it was a bad sacrifice. He did make her a fresh pot of coffee, which the three of them drank while they talked.

  "I don't understand Jesse's attitude. Why wouldn't he recognize that I'm not his real fiancée? I wore different clothes; I definitely acted different." Ellie hiked one foot over the other knee as she talked, unlacing the tight boot and tugging it off. It plunked onto the floor. "Actually, now that I think about it, he didn't act much like a fiancé at all." The other boot thudded. "He didn't even kiss me good night."

  Silence met her pronouncement, and Ellie looked up from massaging her sore foot. Both Zeke and Lucky sat stone cold still, mouths gapping and faces red as tomatoes.

  "What?" Ellie dropped her skirt from around her knees and stood to get herself more coffee.

  Zeke began to wheeze and Lucky coughed. "Your. . .your feet." Lucky sputtered.

  Ellie looked down. Her feet peeked from beneath the hem of the blue skirt. She wiggled her toes in relief, then frowned. "Sorry, I should have fixed them. They look that bad, huh?" She had meant to redo her toenail polish the other night at the hotel, but had never gotten around to it.

  "I ain't never seen painted toes on nobody 'cept the girls from Miss Molly’s down at the Gold Strike Saloon." Lucky whistled as he scooted forward in his chair, bending down to get a closer look.

  Ellie scurried to her chair and self-consciously curled her toes under her skirt.

  "Lucky, how many times I gotta tell you it ain’t polite to talk about them girls in front of a lady." Zeke pointed out the common courtesy to his brother and Ellie wondered if she would ever begin to understand the workings of history.

  To take attention from herself, if that were even possible, she questioned. "We were talking about Jesse?"

  Zeke looked at her, his expression blank.

  "You know," Ellie prompted, "his attitude towards Elizabeth -- towards me."

  "Well, you gotta understand that Jesse and Elizabeth growed up together. Seems Jesse always wanted to marry her, and I guess back then, she felt the same. So Jesse, he thinks Elizabeth's just about perfect, don't you know. Even when she says she won't marry him 'til he's rich, he still treats her like a princess." Zeke snorted with disgust for the entire mess, and Ellie guessed he never had a lady love.

  "But then, how come Jesse wouldn't notice I'm not the same person?"

  Zeke questioned, “You mean ‘sides the fact you’ve been back east for the past years?” At Ellie’s nod, he continued, "Sometimes, you see what you s’pect to see, or what you're used to seeing. We called you Elizabeth, and so he just figures you’re who we says."

  Ellie thought about that as she excused herself for a minute. After digging through Elizabeth's things, she returned to the kitchen where she sat back down with her findings. Just as she did, a dynamite blast sounded in the distance. The floor shook slightly. Ellie shivered, knowing she would never get used to that sound. Especially since it seemed to predict doom for Jesse.

  "Why don't you two have to help Jesse at the mine?"

  "He says me and Lucky should be retired, if you ever heared of such nonsense. Even if my old bones creak some, I can still earn my keep." Zeke sounded thoroughly offended that a man of his age should contemplate not working. "Anyhow, he pays us to run errands for him, getting things from town and such. Jesse's got some workers -- the smallest group of miners in the area -- but they're loyal to him, leastwise." Zeke finished.

  "Can you be sure?" Ellie had been a newspaper reporter before she landed the job with the travel magazine, so questions naturally popped into her head.r />
  "Yeah. Clayton Scott manages Fravel Mines, like the Golden Fleece, and he always tries to hire Jesse’s workers away, but they won’t go. ‘Sides, Jesse gives 'em a piece of stock in the mine along with their wage. When he hits the motherlode, all of 'em are going to be rich." Lucky answered, screwing up his face as he watched her work. "Whatcha doing? I thought you couldn't sew."

  “This isn’t sewing; it’s mending.”

  “Ain’t that the same thing?”

  "No, besides, I didn't see any of these at the store, so I'm making my own." She had confiscated several pairs of Elizabeth's frilly, long-legged underwear, cut the ruffles off, and was putting in a hem. She held a pair up for inspection. They'd still be longer than her bikini briefs, but they'd work.

  "But ain't they supposed to have the ruffles on 'em?" Lucky asked, even though embarrassment tinged his cheeks pink.

  Ellie gave him the look, as she was beginning to think of her usual expression when it came to Lucky. "Do you know anything about life in my time?"

  "We couldn't get us to town, you know. We just had to depend on seeing what the people who came to Peavine had about them."

  "And did you ever see any women with long, ruffled legs?"

  "Well, no, I guess not."

  Ellie shrugged. "There you go." She bit the thread and folded the last pair onto the pile at the table. She scooped up the scraps and, not finding any place to throw them, dropped them back to the floor for now.

  She collected her cigarette papers and tobacco and tried, for the hundredth time it seemed, to roll herself a smoke. She had one end twisted shut when the whole thing tilted and the tobacco slid out the open end. Her shoulders slumped; Lucky smirked, and Zeke sighed.

  "You should quit. If'n you can't make 'em, you shouldn't be smoking 'em."

  "Shut up." She said without animosity, pushing him the makings as she had earlier. He sighed again, but expertly dumped tobacco into the curved paper he held just right between his fingers, pulled the draw string pouch shut with his teeth, then rolled it up into a smooth cylinder. She held her hand out, snapping her fingers and stopping him just short of licking the paper shut.

  He grinned as he handed over his creation. "It'll cost you." He reached for another paper, quickly making himself a cigarette and striking a match for both of them.

  "It has already cost me far more than you can ever realize," Ellie replied, looking around the room. As homey as the kitchen was with its pot-bellied stove and gingham curtains, it still sat in the middle of a mining town in 1870.

  Deep in her subconscious, Ellie knew she was stuck here. She vacillated between belief and denial, but for the moment had resigned herself to the month Zeke believed they had to figure out the problem. A shiver sliced down her spine, and she wondered what would happen if they didn't get Jesse's trouble straightened out.

  "You promised to tell me about Jesse and what you think happened." She crossed her arms on the table and gave Zeke a level look. "We haven't exactly seen eye to eye, but as long as I'm stuck here, I might as well help. I can't do that until I know everything. Then, we can get it over with so I can go home."

  Lucky and Zeke exchanged a look and Ellie's stomach lurched. No, they had said she could go home in a month. One month, her brain echoed; one month, she prayed. She couldn't even contemplate otherwise.

  "Spill it."

  * * *

  Zeke and Lucky spent the remainder of the day at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and giving her details about Jesse's and Elizabeth's lives. It was probably fortunate that Elizabeth had been away to finishing school and had only returned to Peavine eight months ago. Any mistakes Ellie made could always be attributed to her eastern book learning, as Lucky put it.

  Most of the time, they spoke of Jesse, who they treated with near reverence. It seemed the man had gone through some pretty rough times, but despite it all, was nearly perfect -- or so they said. According to them, Elizabeth's father, Wendell, and Jesse’s father, Warren, had been mining partners until '65 when Wendell decided to sell out and start a bank to finance other mining ventures. Zeke seemed to think that Wendell had kept some interest in the Nightingale Mine even after he started the bank.

  Clayton Scott took over management of the bank when Elizabeth’s father died two months ago, and apparently had alot of money in the bank because of his interests in Fravel mines. The question Zeke and Lucky couldn’t answer, though, was whether Scott had any actual stock in the Nightingale mine.

  “How long has Scott lived here?” Ellie asked.

  Zeke shrugged. “‘Bout a year, maybe less.”

  Did he hold an interest or mortgage in Jesse's Nightingale Mine because of Elizabeth's father's former partnership? Did he have a vested interest in the bank, or just the management of it? What motive did Scott have to want Jesse dead? There were far too many questions left to be answered.

  Though they didn't speak of Jesse's mom, they said his father died in a mine accident in '62 when Jesse was twenty. Then, Wendell Calhoun had died mysteriously just two months ago.

  Ellie had said the deaths were probably coincidental, but she began to think otherwise as Zeke finally explained her reason for being there.

  "‘Bout the trouble Lucky and me got into on Independence Day," Zeke sullenly began as dusk fell outside. "Jesse had decided to work late, promising Miss Elizabeth he would be into town afore the fireworks."

  "How do you know that?" Ellie asked, lighting the lamp on the table to chase away the shadows. It was like hearing a ghost story.

  "'Cuz we was the ones what come into town and told Miss Elizabeth," Lucky stated. Mournfully, he added, "Jesse was close, he said, real close to finding the biggest vein in all of Nevada. All the assay reports said so. Most nights, even after he sent the other miners home, he'd stay below, chipping away, looking for the mother lode."

  "Well, if you were in town and Jesse was in the mine, how did you two end up de...how come you were still around when I--?" Ellie still couldn’t say the word dead out loud. Somehow that would make it too final.

  "When we got to town, Miss Elizabeth and Mr. Scott was on her front porch, real cozy like." Lucky sounded as though he were the one betrayed, instead of Jesse. "We gave her the news, and Mr. Scott said we should go on down to the saloon and have us a drink. Said he'd make sure Miss Elizabeth got to the fireworks if'n Jesse didn't show up in time."

  "Well, you could hardly be blamed for--"

  "We was his friends. We should've been there." Agitated, Lucky jumped up, slamming back his chair.

  "Zeke, what happened?" Ellie had a feeling she wasn't going to like the end of this story.

  "Right in the middle of the celebration, we heared this explosion coming from the ridge. It was a hellava lot louder than any fireworks. The whole town went running ‘cross the creek to the noise, but it was too late." Tears welled up in his eyes and Ellie placed a hand over his in comfort. "Smoke and dirt was bellowing out of the Nightingale. Since Jesse wasn’t standing nearby, we knew he had to still be inside, so Lucky and me raced in."

  "Oh, God." Ellie clapped a hand to her mouth in agony.

  "There was aftershocks, and we got knocked out by falling rock. Next thing we know, some voice is telling us we gotta hang around Peavine 'til we figure out a way to fix things."

  Macabre images flashed through Ellie's mind. Seances she and girlfriends had at slumber parties when they were young suddenly seemed so pathetic. She examined Zeke and Lucky closely. They were definitely solid and very much alive -- now -- regardless of how she had found them when she first arrived at Peavine ghost town. If they had been ghosts and had come back to the land of the living in 1870, what did that make her?

  She shook her head to clear the confusion. "I don't get it. Doesn't Jesse know he died? Don't all the people in town know it?"

  Zeke gave her a hopeful look. "That's just it. When we found you and you looked so much like Miss Elizabeth, we figured we had a chance to make things right. We took you into the mine and--"
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  "You took me into a mine? A dark mine?" Ellie practically shrieked, instantly going cold all over at the thought of being inside a dark, dank underground hole where there was no light and no way out.

  "Well, yeah, that's how we got you here."

  She shot him a murderous look.

  "Anyhow, we come back to Peavine at a time a couple weeks afore the accident. That's why everybody's going about their business."

  "Well, just tell Jesse the truth and he can deal with Scott and then there won't be an accident. And I can go home."

  Zeke gave his head a sad shake. "If'n it took over a hundred years for us to get back here, I don't figure it'll be that easy to set things right. 'Sides, we got no evidence, just suspects."

  "And they would be?" Ellie hated playing twenty questions.

  "Clayton Scott and Miss Elizabeth."

  “That figures,” Ellie stated and proceeded to tell the boys about her conversation with Clayton Scott. “I’m still not sure what he expects me to convince Jesse to do, but I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”

  "Scott already manages the bank and if he's messing with Elizabeth, he can marry her and own the whole thing. Why do you think those two would want Jesse dead?" Lucky asked.

  “That’s what we need Ellie to find out,” Zeke replied. “I just know it’s got something to do with Jesse finding the motherlode.”

  “It doesn’t make sense right now, that’s for sure.” Ellie shook her head, hoping to sift the pieces into some semblance of order.

  “Well, they’re about the best suspects we got right now,” Lucky added. “‘Sides, they was the only two people not up at the mine site on Independence Day."

  * * *

  Zeke and Lucky honestly felt Elizabeth had tried to kill Jesse -- actually, had killed him. Remembering his handsome face, Ellie found it hard to imagine, but she supposed greed could supersede passion. That hypothesis was all they had to go on for the moment.