Sissel nodded.
He saw her eyes flickering to his lips. She wanted to be kissed.
James knew it would seal things between them, at least in her mind it would.
He couldn’t bear to do it. She was … all this stuff about gold … she was unhinged. He found his conscience would not allow him to kiss the girl.
Instead he pressed his lips to the back of her hand, then he stepped to the side and out of the embrace.
“I don’t trust what I might do, if I kiss you,” he lied.
He walked to the table and began packing up the remnants of their feast. He put the crackers, the biscuits, the candies into a bag.
“Yes,” she said. “You won’t tell, will you, James?”
James turned, made himself look earnest and adoring. “I swear I won’t. Now, let’s get you back to the hotel.”
James walked her down the quiet street, arm in arm, back to the hotel. Sissel appeared nervous, anxious. He imagined she was regretting telling her secret.
She seemed to him now a silly young creature. Why had he found her so fetching? She was just a wisp of a thing, hardly a woman at all.
Now that she had succumbed to his charms the allure was gone, as it often happened. He felt bad about that. But he felt worse about her “secret.” The delusion of a sick mind, it had to be. There was no such magic in the world.
He had thought her so cunning and smart not to trust him. It turned out she was mentally unsound.
As he walked home he wondered, Had she told McKray she could find gold? It would explain his sudden interest in her …
Peavy was waiting for him in the store, cleaning up the mess he’d left.
“Did it work?” he asked. “She finally spill for you?”
“Yeah,” James said. “She sure did.”
“Attaboy,” Peavy said.
“You’re never going to believe it,” James said. “Never in a million years.”
“What?” Peavy was smiling. He crossed his arms, ready for a good story. “What did she say?”
“She thinks she’s got magical abilities.”
Peavy laughed and swore. Then, “How so?”
“Sissel Hemstad believes she can feel where precious metals are buried in the ground.”
He expected a great guffaw from Peavy, but the smile had fallen off his face. “What?” he said.
“Yes. That’s what she told me. It all fits together. She must have lost her mind when her brother murdered those fellas back in Norway. Then she came here and the fire happened and the shock of it pushed her over the edge of sanity. The doctor said she had suffered a great shock—”
But Peavy was gone, hustling out of the room.
“Where are you going?” James called.
“Hold on a sec!” Peavy shouted, his voice diminishing as he climbed the ladder to the attic above the back room.
He heard the big man’s feet moving in their attic bedroom.
After a moment Peavy descended, a sheaf of papers in his hand.
“What’s that?” James asked.
“The Baron’s original letters.”
“I never saw them.”
“You don’t see everything,” Peavy snapped. He held up his hand.
“Here it is! Listen to this: ‘Any unusual behavior should be reported, especially pertaining to the following circumstances: anomalous weather conditions, including snow, hail, thunder.’ No, wait, that’s not it.”
His eyes scanned the pages of thin paper.
“Here: ‘Alert me at once if any of the siblings display extraordinary strength, or ability to carve or build unusual wooden structures or tools—’”
“What on earth?”
“Just listen! ‘Or show an ability to find, identify, or manipulate precious metals.’”
Peavy lowered the paper and looked at James, a half-cocked smile on his face.
“Good work, James,” he said. “You’ve just made our Baron a happy fellow.”
James felt, suddenly, very sick.
He offered Peavy a weak smile.
Peavy took down a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers from the shelf.
“Yes, yes, indeed!” he said, pouring them each a generous slug. “That’s fine work. That’s bonus-making work!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Sissel had hardly slept. She spent the night in a gradual state of dawning alarm.
At first, she had lain in bed remembering the touch of James’s arms around her body; the memory of his strong hands on her, the warm scent of his neck, and the feel of his lips brushing against her ear had lit her whole body on fire.
But as the flames burned down, she thought of the story he had told her. His sister Clara. At school he’d mentioned growing up with cousins. Never a sister. The story left an odd taste in her mouth. Why wouldn’t he have mentioned her?
Dread crept up upon her. Could he have invented the story just to gain her sympathy? No. That was inconceivable.
And why, after she had told him, did he not ask her to prove she could find metal? Wouldn’t the next thing to do be to say, “Prove it, then.” They had plenty of silver items in the store, maybe even some gold. She could have shown him.
But he hadn’t asked.
She started to feel discomfited, anxious. He hadn’t asked, she realized, because he had not believed her.
Around three she got up to pace in her room.
Why had she told him? She was a fool! He wasn’t trustworthy. She knew he wasn’t. What if he made it a joke? What if he told the boys at school? Or people in the store?
When Stieg found out he would be furious. As he should be! Why had she gone to James’s arms? The heat of his body had melted her resolve. Or maybe it had been his confession, the feeling of closeness. She had wanted to reciprocate—her secret for his. Oh, she was a fool!
She harangued herself that way for hours. Finally, just as the sun dawned, she fell back to a miserable sleep.
* * *
NOW STIEG WAS knocking on her door.
“One moment,” Sissel cried. Quickly she dressed in a freshly laundered white blouse and one of her gray skirts, sweeping her hair back into a loose bun. All the while she was thinking of James. What could she say to him to make him understand how crucial it was he not tell a soul?
Outside her window, down on the street, there seemed to be an unusual amount of foot traffic.
Stieg was irritated with her for being late.
“The next time you’re late, I will go on without you,” he told her.
“I’m sorry,” Sissel said.
There was a lot of noise coming up from the lobby. Sissel and Stieg descended the stairs to find it overrun with strangers. Men, who, judging by their clothes, varied in prosperity from scrappy miners to savvy business investors, glutted the space, all eager to have a word with McKray.
It made Sissel’s head ache.
Even Collier looked harassed, and the day only a few hours begun.
“Stay close,” Stieg instructed. He pushed through the melee, only to be met, at the door, with two of McKray’s miners carrying a crate through the door. The wooden crate was loaded with rock, visible through the slatted sides. A rough square of canvas was nailed over the top of the crate.
Conversation flared at the sight of the miners and the crate as the men speculated over the amount of gold McKray was finding.
Sissel turned as the men with the crate passed her. She sent her sense into the crate.
The noise immediately faded.
She felt through the box. Nothing. It was cold, dead stone. The brass buttons on a gentleman’s vest standing near were louder.
It was a scam.
Suddenly she saw it all–McKray was running a great scam. There was no gold in his mines at all.
She thought of all the land he’d bought up. Cheap land. He would have bought theirs, if Stieg had not put him off.
Now the hotel lobby was overrun with men wanting a piece of McKray’s vast land holdings.
The gold in his office … it wasn’t even from around here. She knew this in her bones. He’d used it to salt one of his own, barren mines.
The door to McKray’s office opened, and he stood there, the room in shadows behind him. He saw the people, the crate. There was an expression of haughty pride on his face. A tough, seasoned look. Then he saw Sissel and his face changed. His eyes softened.
He was a … a cheater. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised, but she was. She was disappointed in him. Terribly let down. Tears pricked her eyes—McKray was a swindler.
She shut her Nytte as abruptly as slamming a door. McKray mouthed, Wait! but she turned and pushed her way through the men now swarming forward to try to get a word with him.
Stieg was waiting for her outside and said something she couldn’t hear. She felt safe to say yes. She crossed the street to the boardinghouse.
By the time they had been seated at one of the long tables, her hearing was back. She sat, slumped at the table, listless. It was strange how hurt she felt, knowing McKray was out to cheat the farmers around town. He’d proven himself to be dishonest before—he’d tricked her at the dance—but somehow she’d come to think of him as trustworthy.
Mrs. Boyce’s daughters began bringing out the platters of scrambled eggs and sausages.
“Did you sup with the Oswalds last night?” Stieg asked.
Sissel was distracted, still thinking through what she had just learned.
“Yes,” she said, then, “No, I’m sorry. I wound up having a bite at the general store.”
“Aha! Did James make a picnic for you?”
“Of a sort,” she said.
“Have I been terribly lax as a chaperone? Is he behaving himself?” Stieg asked.
“Oh no. It was fine. But I’m not sure…”
A basket with biscuits came around. Sissel took one.
“Not sure of what?”
“I don’t think he’s the right sort,” Sissel said. “To tell you the truth, I’d be happy for us all to go to Helena, if that’s what you decide is best.”
“Really? With all your friends here? What about Isaiah McKray?”
A fierce blush came over Sissel’s cheeks and neck.
“Him,” she said. “He’s too old for me.”
Stieg tsked at her unkindness. “I thought he was growing on you.”
“No,” she said. “He’s … he’s a ruthless sort. It’s all business with him.”
Sissel focused on spreading butter on a biscuit.
Stieg took a sip of coffee. He thought for a moment, then laughed. “What will Hanne say when she finds out how much you’ve changed since she went away! Goodness, you’ve discarded two suitors now, gained your health, gained quite a bit of strength all around, I’d say. I can’t wait to see her face.”
He winked at Sissel. She offered as convincing a smile as she could in return.
* * *
THE SCHOOL DAY dragged on and on. The smaller pupils were distracted by the unusual busyness of the street. Wagons were rolling in. There was a train of burros parading down the street, tied one after another.
Sissel had taken her oral examination on the Boston Tea Party. She’d only gotten one fact wrong—misstating the date of the Tea Act. Now Abigail was giving her report on the Stamp Act. Truthfully, no one was paying very much attention; it was already a dull subject and Abigail was not a gifted speaker. Stieg had had to rap on his desk several times to curtail whispering about the goings-on outside the window.
No one was whispering to Sissel, though.
Alice was studiously avoiding Sissel. She wouldn’t even cast a glance her way. James was the opposite. Every time Sissel turned her head, he was looking at her. Not the playful, flirting looks she was used to from him, but sneaking, furtive glances. He seemed to be assessing her in a way that felt almost clinical.
They had greeted each other stiffly at the beginning of the day. She had hardly known what to say to him. It felt like they were strangers, somehow.
Sissel felt again the shame that had crept upon her in the night. What a fool she was to have trusted him with her secret!
Her only idea was that they must move. She must persuade Owen and Hanne and Knut that they should all accompany Stieg to Helena.
Howie was being examined on the Boston Massacre when three hard raps sounded on the door. Every head turned to the back of the classroom. The door swung open, and there stood Isaiah McKray, hat in hand.
“Begging your pardon,” he said. “But I need to speak to young Miss Hemstad.”
This caused a flurry of shocked glances and whispered exclamations, especially from the girls. McKray had the decency to look embarrassed. Stieg looked completely perplexed.
“I see,” he said. “And this must happen right now?”
McKray took two steps into the room. He seemed too big for it.
“Now. It’s terribly important. It’s business.”
Sissel saw Stieg’s mind putting things together.
She saw her brother come to the realization, untrue, that Sissel had helped McKray find gold. She could almost detect the exact moment when Stieg was hit with shame for not figuring it out sooner. His eyes locked on Sissel’s, the question writ plainly in them: Had she helped McKray find his gold?
Sissel couldn’t answer that question with a glance—it was too complicated. She broke the connection, looked down at her hands.
Stieg took a steadying breath.
“This is most unusual,” Stieg said. He stood up, then he sat down again. “I hardly know what to say. Sissel?”
“May I be excused, please?” she said. She kept her eyes lowered. It seemed best to act demure and proper.
“Yes,” he said. “Fine.”
Sissel rose. Alice took her hand abruptly and squeezed it, breaking her silence to whisper, “All right?”
Sissel smiled at her. She squeezed back and nodded.
James’s expression was closed and hard to read. Anxiety? Suspicion?
“Howie,” Stieg said. “Please tell us the number of British troops stationed in Boston in the weeks before the attack.”
* * *
OUTSIDE, SISSEL STALKED away from the schoolhouse, toward the boulders at the edge of the yard, the same ones she’d sat on with James. McKray followed her.
Sissel spun on McKray.
“By coming and interrupting class this way you have told my brother everything, do you realize that?” she hissed.
“I’m sorry. I’m a clod,” McKray said.
“You’re a swindler, and I want nothing to do with you,” she said.
“Partner with me,” McKray said. “I’ll give you a fifty-fifty split on everything I make. Mining, the hotel, all of it.”
“What? Why?” Sissel sputtered.
“You figured out my game. I knew it this morning when I saw you at the hotel. And all morning I’ve thought of nothing else. That now you’ll despise me. And I can’t bear it.”
Sissel was struck dumb.
“Be my business partner,” he said. “I’ll go by the letter of the law from now on, I swear it.”
“You are scared I will expose you for a fraud,” she said. “So you are offering me this arrangement to ensure my silence.”
“Nope.”
“Then you just want to harness my ability to find gold,” she said.
“Listen here,” McKray said. “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who has seen the truth of me. Of who I really am. And that feels right. It feels right to have someone I can talk to without having to wrap my words in a bunch of puffery.
“And I see you, too, you know. I see how proud you are. And ambitious. I see how hard it must be, to be a female and to have ambition. All the limits our world puts on the fairer sex, and men pretend they are for your own good, but they’re only to keep you all down.
“I see you, Sissel Hemstad. I want to help you.”
He put a hand on her arm.
“Think of what we could do toget
her.”
“I can’t trust you,” she said.
“You can. I kept your family’s secret.”
“You’re a swindler.”
He blew out a great big breath.
“All my life I only cared about what one person thought of me. My father. This little thing I’ve pulled off, this little gold boom, it’s right out of his playbook. If he were, here he’d slap me on the shoulder and congratulate me. Hell, the reason I did it is to impress him, if I’m honest.
“Now, I see how ugly it all is. And wrong. I’m seeing it that way because all of a sudden I care more about what you think of me than what my father does.”
“Me?”
“You. Miss Sissel Hemstad, a sixteen-year-old girl who is stubborn and smart and…”
He brought himself up short.
“Look, I’m young enough to change my ways. Partner with me and I’ll show you.”
Sissel was exasperated, but she also was tempted. She knew he was being truthful with her. She felt it in her gut.
“Obviously, I would have to tell my brother,” Sissel said. “I’d have to tell him everything. He will be furious, you understand that.”
“I deserve it. And I can take it.”
Sissel looked to McKray’s eyes. They were hopeful.
“No,” she said. “It’s absurd.”
“Don’t say no,” he said. “Say you’ll think it over.”
“Why would I?”
“Because I think you’d like to be my partner,” he said.
“You’re awfully forward,” she said.
“Yes, we’re alike in that way.”
* * *
AFTER SCHOOL WAS dismissed Stieg exited the schoolhouse without waiting for her. James, also, did not have anything to say. He slipped away after sending her a slight wave in her direction.
Sissel wanted to speak to Alice and try to make up with her, but she had speak to Stieg first.
On the walk home, Stieg’s strides kept lengthening, leaving Sissel to scurry to catch up. They came upon Mr. Campbell, who wanted to shake Stieg’s hand and congratulate him on another school term come to an end. Stieg was amenable and polite, but Sissel could tell he was seething inside.
They reached the hotel, but Stieg looked at it and shook his head and continued charging down the street. Stieg was still carrying his school satchel. Sissel held the pail they used to carry their lunches.
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