“Thank you,” she said. Feeling her cheeks burning, she hustled toward the kitchen. “You and Tom should have a big breakfast before you head out into this.”
And they did.
It might be snowing, but it was Sunday, and with the weather against them, miners descended on Deadwood with a vengeance. By noon Mattie had heard gunfire at least twice and endured a tittering visit from the Underwood girls, who came over because they were concerned that the reverend was in ill health because church had been canceled. When they heard what had happened, they sighed with admiration and promised to pray for the “victims.”
“I don’t think there will be any victims,” Mattie said, more harshly than she’d intended.
“Of … of course not.” Kitty Underwood blinked. “I didn’t mean—” She took a deep breath. Mattie was grateful when the two girls fluttered their way out the door. Let them bother someone else. Of course, once they were gone the silence in the store was almost as annoying as the Underwood sisters.
Worry descended. After a fruitless attempt at distracting herself with shelf-dusting, Mattie decided that if Kitty Underwood could talk to God, she could, too. Maybe it wouldn’t be a prayer exactly. Aunt Lou and Aron had said God was always planning and permitting and allowing and all of that. So maybe a little reminder wouldn’t hurt.
Clearing her throat, Mattie spoke aloud, “So Aunt Lou says that you give people faith. Well, I’ve never had any, but Freddie and Swede do. And Aunt Lou and Aron do. And they’re good people and you know I care about them.” She paused. Gulped. She had said it aloud. She cared about Aron. “So. I guess you being God and all, that’s no news to you, is it? The thing is, it would be a very bad winter if these people I care about, if they weren’t all right. Especially Eva. Especially Aron.” Had she said that part about Aron out loud or not? Her voice wavered as she concluded, “And I think it’s already been a hard enough year for me. Don’t you?” She swiped at a tear. “So I hope you don’t mind listening to someone like me. And if you decide to dump some faith on me sometime … I wouldn’t mind.”
Mattie O’Keefe, what have you gone and done now, praying to a God you aren’t even sure listens … and falling for a man of the cloth.
Freddie came limping into the store along about suppertime that day.
“You’re hurt!” Mattie exclaimed. “What happened?”
“Nothing much,” he said, shrugging out of his fur coat and holding his palms up to the stove. “I slipped is all. My ankle hurts. It’s not broken or anything. The snow made it slippery. I stopped at your claim and you were gone. And I slipped.”
“Get your boot off,” Mattie said. “Let me see it. We might have the doc take a look at it—”
“It’s all right, I said. Where’s Tom?”
“Tom and Aron put together a supply train and headed south.” She hastened to add, “They weren’t sure the snow would be all that heavy further south, but—”
Freddie interrupted. “You don’t have to make up a story. I saw the storm come in from the south. It’s already been down where Mor is.” He pressed his lips together for a moment, then he smiled. “But I prayed. And she’ll be all right. And Eva, too. You don’t have to worry.”
Looking up into Freddie’s calm blue eyes, Mattie wished she had faith like that.
He knew. Knew everything he needed to know. And just when it all came together, just when he had a plan … snow. Jonas cursed the snow as he shivered by his campfire on the ridge above Mattie’s claim. Dillon must be mining somewhere else. Or dead. That was still an unanswered question, but everything else … he knew.
Her claim was paying. He’d seen her take nugget after nugget out of the ground. But he’d never seen her go to the bank. Not once. Which meant the gold was hidden somewhere on the claim. Likely in the tent. Now that he knew she didn’t own that store in town, he was convinced she also still had most of the money she’d taken from him. He would get it back. She didn’t own the general store and she didn’t really work at the hotel. Oh no. Mattie O’Keefe had made friends in Deadwood. She’d even started going to church. It was all so touching. And it was all going to be so short-lived.
The key to it all was the simpleminded boy. He and Mattie had some kind of bond. He hunted for her, and it was obvious from the way she acted when he was around that she cared about him. Of course, she probably cared about the mealymouthed preacher, too, what with his perfect face and smile. But Jonas’s plan would be easier to work using the simpleminded boy. He would be easy to snare.
It was time. Jonas despised the snow and hated the cold, but it was proving useful, for the preacher and Swede’s husband had left with a mule train that morning. Jonas grinned in anticipation. This was going to be fun.
CHAPTER 21
The soul of the wicked desireth evil.
Proverbs 21:10
It was quite comfortable, really, sheltered inside of what was essentially a snow hut with a canvas roof. The roof was slanted, so the snow had not accumulated, and there was no threat that it would fall in. The hard-packed snow stacked all around at ground level ensured they were out of the wind. Eva, her little face and sweet hands barely poking out of her fur bunting, was sitting atop a bedroll playing pat-a-cake with Red Tallent while others played cards. One of the boys had a mandolin. He played amazingly well. Being caught by an early snowstorm was not at all the terrifying event it could have been.
The snow had stopped, praise be to God. Finally. After three days. How they would fight their way through the drifts that must be awaiting them, Swede did not know. How long it would take to get back to Deadwood, she could not know. But the grip of fear that had kept her awake at night was gone.
The freighters crept out of their shelter to check the other corral and see how the oxen had fared. Swede praised God again when Red Tallent returned and reported, “They’re fine.” He scratched his chin. “But we ain’t going anywhere until some of it melts. Some of us walked up ahead a mile or two, and the drifts are just too deep. It’s just as well,” he added. “We’d all be snow-blind by evening if we tried.” He smiled at Eva and chucked her under the chin. “What d’ya think, little one, can you handle another day or two camping with old Red?”
Eva giggled. Swede sighed. So much to be thankful for, and yet, it was going to be awkward when she finally pulled into Deadwood and had to face Tom. What was it they said when a person had to admit they had been wrong? Eating … something. A bird. Yes. She would have to “eat crow” the next time she saw Tom English.
It was the closest Aron Gallagher had ever come to thinking he was actually hearing God’s voice. The notion kept repeating in his mind, over and over and over again, that he should pray for Mattie. He’d been praying about her for quite some time now, but this was different. This wasn’t about his attraction to her. This was … just different. Such a strong inner pull that he’d literally turned around in his saddle and looked back over his shoulder toward Deadwood. Apparently more than once, for Tom suddenly asked what was wrong and did he think they were being followed.
“No,” Aron said. “It’s not that. It’s just—” He couldn’t explain it, because he didn’t understand it.
Pray for Mattie. Pray for Mattie NOW. And then … Pray for Freddie. Pray for Freddie NOW. Pray … pray … pray.
Aron prayed.
Back in her kitchen in Deadwood, Aunt Lou had just leaned over the soup pot to taste the stew she was serving for supper when she thought of Mattie.
“That child,” she said aloud. “Needs the Lord so bad … likes that preacher so much … and jus’ can’t see her way to either one.”
Pray for Mattie. Pray for Mattie NOW.
Aunt Lou frowned. She put more salt in the stew and then crossed the kitchen and went to stand out on the back stoop. She gazed toward the rim of the rocky wall that rose behind the hotel. She thought about Mattie’s claim. But Mattie was watching the store again. She’d be over for supper any moment, and maybe Freddie would join them tonight. Mayb
e he’d bring them some nice fat rabbits from his hunting expedition the last couple of days.
Pray for Freddie. Pray for Freddie NOW.
Aunt Lou shivered. She stepped back inside. And she prayed.
Something’s not right at Mattie’s claim, Freddie thought. There was smoke coming out of the stovepipe, but Mattie was down in town minding the store again while Tom and Aron took supplies to Mor and the freighters. She wasn’t coming back up here until tomorrow. That’s what she’d said. “I’ll head up there on Monday just to check things over, but if the snow hasn’t started to melt, I won’t stay.”
Freddie didn’t know why she even had to go up there at all. Winter was here. Probably she had to get more gold down to where she could keep an eye on it. There was something funny about Mattie and her gold. She didn’t talk about it very much. Freddie believed that probably meant she had a lot of it. People around here were that way sometimes. They didn’t talk about it in case someone might steal it. Which was smart, but in Mattie’s case Freddie just wished she would put it in the bank.
Once he almost sneaked into her tent when she was at Aunt Lou’s just to see if he was right. But his conscience bothered him and he knew that was God saying he shouldn’t do it. So he didn’t. But still, he knew there was something funny about Mattie and her gold. And now there was something funny going on at her claim tent. But she said she wasn’t coming up here until Monday. He’d better check things out.
Freddie adjusted his string of rabbits and squatted down, thinking. For a long time he studied the footprints leading from the McKays’ claim up to Mattie’s tent … but not back. He smiled. That was it. Finn or Fergus—or maybe Mr. McKay himself—had been so drunk last night they didn’t even know they were in Mattie’s tent instead of their own. It was sort of funny in a way—but sad, too. And it wasn’t right. If Mattie came up here and one of them was in her tent, she might shoot them like she’d shot Brady Sloan. And that pistol she kept in her pocket wasn’t loaded with just rock salt, either. Freddie stood up. He would help Finn or Fergus or Mr. McKay get back to their own tent and put out the fire.
Leaving the string of rabbits on the ground, he stood up and limped to the tent flap. “It’s Freddie,” he called out. He reached through to untie it. It wasn’t tied. Which just proved how drunk they had been last night. It was a wonder they had gotten a fire going at all. At least they weren’t frozen to death in there.
“I’m coming in,” he proclaimed. “I’ll help you get back to your own—”
Pain. Darkness.
On Monday morning a flustered Mattie decided that she and Freddie were going to have to have a talk. He knew she wanted to go up to the claim this morning, and he’d promised he wouldn’t go far to hunt and would be back in plenty of time to watch over the store while she was gone. But she’d waited and waited, and still no sign of Freddie. And now, not only was she frustrated about being behind schedule to get up to her claim, she was worried for Freddie. It wasn’t like him not to keep his word. Frustrated, Mattie changed into her mining garb. At least the sun was bright and the snow was melting. Thank God.
God. She’d been thinking about God a lot lately, especially when she was alone. It was as if the idea just kept coming up whether she was with people who talked about Him or not. As far as she could tell, she wasn’t any closer to believing in Him. Still, the idea of God didn’t result in resentment over her list of unanswerable questions. Instead, she had been pondering what Aron said about accepting the things he couldn’t understand about God by clinging to the things he did.
This morning, as Mattie let Justice out and prepared her own breakfast, a new idea came to her. Maybe faith was like gold mining. She couldn’t see how much color existed on her entire claim, but she believed there was more because of the gold she had seen. Maybe that was what Aron had been talking about. You started with a little bit of faith and trusted for what you couldn’t see. The problem was Mattie couldn’t seem to conjure up even a nugget of trust in God—at least not on behalf of herself.
She had come to think God probably did have an interest in her friends. Aron and Tom had been gone for a week now, and she had tired of worrying about them and started talking to God about it and felt better for it.
A bark at the back door announced the return of Justice, and when she let him in, she was almost happy to see how muddy he was. Mud meant melting snow. And melting snow meant warmer air and improved conditions for Tom and Aron and the freighters. They might have to slog through mud, but mud wasn’t life-threatening. Mud, she knew Swede could handle. Heading into the store, Mattie perused the calendar, counting days, trying to anticipate when everyone would be back.
“Well, Justice,” she said aloud, her finger on today’s date, October 30, “if everything was going smoothly, I would be expecting the freighters to pull into town somewhere around November third. I’m thinking the snow has added at least a week. And if it gets too muddy …” She paused and smiled down at the dog. “What do you think?” Justice danced around the kitchen, his tail wagging.
By the time Justice and Cat had been fed, and she’d had her second cup of coffee, Mattie felt better about things. Freddie had just been delayed by the snow. He’d turn up sometime this morning, and if she left now, she wouldn’t be gone long.
“So what do you think, Justice?” she asked abruptly. “Can I hire you as a guard dog? Will you keep the bad guys away from the store while I check on things at the claim?”
When Justice barked, Mattie nodded. “Actually, I think you will.” The pup was gangly, but he was big, and his bark had changed from the yapping of a pup to a deep “woof ” that made people watch him carefully.
She made two signs that read Back soon. Beware of Dog and hung one at each door. Pulling on her buffalo coat, Mattie prepared to leave. “You be good now,” she said to Justice. “And I’ll see that you get a nice ham bone as pay for guarding the place.”
After securing the lock, Mattie slogged through town and up toward her claim. She might not have made any progress toward God in recent days, but she had made a huge decision about people. It was time to start trusting. She was going to listen to Tom and Aron, and starting with half the contents of one of the bottles in her cache, she would deposit her gold in the bank. Over the next few weeks she would gradually bring more into town until it was all locked up—equal amounts in each of the three banks in town. She hoped that dividing it up that way would keep most of Deadwood from knowing that Matt the Miner was rich.
The concept of wealth had already presented new things to ponder. She could go anywhere, but there was no place she wanted to go right now. She could buy a business, but she honestly liked prospecting. She could build a church, but it seemed like a person who went around building churches should probably be a member, and she wasn’t ready for that. She still had too many questions about God. Aron might be able to live in that space he talked about between things he understood and things he never would, but she wasn’t ready to do that. If God was God, then why didn’t He just show himself in a way that people couldn’t ignore?
He does that, Mattie. He does it all the time. Just look around you. The sky … the stars … the moon … and the changes in people when they finally give in. She could almost hear Aron saying those very words. He’d even told her once that perhaps she should pray the same way someone else who met Jesus once did. “Lord, I believe… . Help my unbelief.” So far, even though she’d said the words a couple of times, nothing had changed beyond a very tiny understanding of faith as it related to gold mining … and the absence of the grudge she’d held against God for a long time. Now, in place of the grudge, she felt … almost hopeful. As she headed up the gulch, she began to sing.
Staring down at the string of rabbits lying on the ground, Mattie frowned. She glanced toward her tent at the thread of smoke ascending from the stovepipe. The rabbits were frozen stiff. Freddie would never just drop game like that… . Not unless … Her heart racing, she ran toward the tent, slipp
ed, and almost fell.
“Freddie! Freddie, are you all right?”
A moan … Oh, Lord … he’s sick. He hurt his leg again … he—
In her panic, she forgot to unbutton her buffalo robe. Her Colt was there, tucked in her pocket and of no use at all as she stepped inside to find Freddie lying bound and gagged on her cot. Her heart in her throat, she stared at the drifter who was seated atop her supply box with a shotgun aimed at her. Tattered clothes, scraggly, greasy hair, a face that was one mass of scabs and healed-over pox, hideous scars and … oh … no … God, please … no.
“Hello, Mattie,” Jonas Flynn said as he brandished his hook. And smiled.
CHAPTER 22
Deliver me from my persecutors; for they are stronger than I.
Psalm 142:6
You must be hot, dressed in that,” Jonas said as he pointed the shotgun at her coat. “Take it off. Slowly. I assume you still keep the Colt tucked in your pocket?” He swung the shotgun barrel toward Freddie. “He’s not dead. But that could change, should you choose to be foolish right now.”
Trembling, Mattie pulled off the coat. “It’s here,” she croaked, and turned so he could see her pocket. “I’ll just pull it out and—”
“Hold it!” Jonas barked, and turned the gun back on her. Mattie froze. He smiled. “All right, dear. Now suppose you take it out, very carefully, and just toss it outside. Toward the edge of the claim, where the snow’s the deepest.”
When she’d done it, he nodded. “Good. Good girl.” He saw Mattie glance to where Freddie lay. “Ah … I see. You’re worried about your new brother. How sweet. Where is Dillon, by the way? That’s the one thing I don’t know yet. It’d be a shame for him to turn up while we’re having our little chat.”
“Dillon’s gone,” Mattie said. “He died before I even got here.” Weakness would only encourage the worst in him. She’d learned that long ago. And so she forced herself to look him in the eye when she answered. “I never saw him alive after you ran him out of Abilene. Happy?”
A Claim of Her Own Page 25
