A Promise to Believe in (18 page)

Lacy plopped down on the ground and stared at him hard. “Yes, Mr. Bishop. I do think that poorly of you. You might as well know—I don’t trust you. I don’t know why Gwen ever agreed to this trip. I suppose she was hoping it would get you out of our hair that much quicker if you were satisfied that there was nothing to be found.”

“She knows it’s important to me and is just too kindhearted to do otherwise,” Hank replied. He liked Lacy, despite her tough-as-granite exterior, knowing she cared deeply about her sister. He not only admired that, he understood it, as well.

“And you knew she’d feel that way and took advantage of her,” Lacy replied.

“I suppose I did . . . a bit,” Hank said thoughtfully. “But it wasn’t for the purpose of causing her harm or pain. This entire trip has been made on behalf of my loved one—my mother. She desperately needs her money returned to her. My stepfather had a great deal of business debt, and my mother had to sell most everything to see it paid off. Now she needs money to live on, or her future will be quite grim.”

“If you care so much, why don’t you take care of her?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” Hank shifted to stretch his legs out in front of him. “I don’t expect you to understand, Miss Gallatin, but my mother grew accustomed to living a certain way—in a specific manner of comfort. I’d like to see her continue in that. I have money—at least, a reasonable amount—but most of it is tied up in my business affairs. Finding the stocks would allow me to return them to my mother, sell a few for her immediate needs, and help her start a new life.”

“What is she doing all this time while you’re gallivanting all over the country?”

Hank smiled. “She’s living with her sister in Rhode Island.”

Hearing movement in the trees, Hank was relieved to see Gwen heading back to the camp. “Your sister is quite a woman. I can’t imagine many ladies being quite so brave.”

“She is brave, but she’s also fragile in many ways. She’s much too hard on herself and way too kind toward strangers.” Lacy fixed a cautious gaze on him. “I’d suggest,” she continued, “that you sleep on the far side of the fire tonight. Gwen and I will sleep over here.”

“And why would that be?”

Lacy shrugged. “I won’t have you hurting my sister—even by accident. I’m a light sleeper and a crackshot, Mr. Bishop. I wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if I thought you were harming Gwen.”

“Couldn’t we just go back to dyeing my shirts?” Hank asked with a grin. “I still have one that’s white.”

Lacy smiled. “Just be warned. I love my sister, and I won’t see the likes of you hurting her.”

Gwen was in hearing range now, and Hank could only hope she hadn’t overheard Lacy’s threat. She didn’t seem to have any concerns, however, as she took her place at the fire. “It’s certainly chilly tonight.” She placed the rifle between her and Lacy, arranged her split wool skirt, and shivered.

“Would you like my jacket?” Hank asked. He got up to retrieve it. The ache in his backside was worse than it’d been when he’d dismounted.

“No. I’ll be fine once I warm up here,” she answered, sliding closer to the campfire.

Hank pulled on his coat and noted that Lacy watched his every move. It was Gwen, however, who captivated his attention. He couldn’t explain the feelings he had for her. Learning that she and his brother had never been intimate somehow pleased him. But why? Why should that matter?

He eased back to the ground but said nothing. There was a concern growing in his mind that perhaps he’d allowed himself to be sidetracked by Gwen Gallatin. Perhaps his anger had served him better, for he no longer felt the same sense of drive to find the certificates as when he’d first arrived. Oh, he still wanted them—still intended to recover them—but now his mind was clouded with additional thoughts. He actually found himself wondering what it might be like to relocate to the Montana Territory. The land was ripe for new business—especially general stores. Towns were springing up everywhere, and businessmen with sound minds and plans could find success.

“I suppose I don’t really have the right to ask a favor of you, Mr. Bishop, but since it seems that everything Harvey told me was a lie, I wonder if you might tell me about your childhood—and his.”

It seemed a simple and reasonable enough request, but Hank hesitated. Did he really want to remember those days?

“I’ll understand if you’d rather not,” Gwen added.

“No, it’s all right,” he finally replied. “I was six when Harvey was born. Our father was seldom around long enough to do anything but cause trouble. His passion was gambling and alcohol rather than our mother. My grandfather, however, was a loving man who could not abide his son’s neglect. He took it upon himself to step into the shoes abandoned by our father. In fact, my only experience sleeping out in the wilds, under the stars like this, was with him.”

“In the city?” Lacy scoffed. “That hardly qualifies for the wilds.”

“Lacy, don’t interrupt,” Gwen chided.

Hank smiled. “There are still some unspoiled and rather wild areas in the East, Miss Gallatin, I assure you. My grandfather actually took us quite a ways from the city into the western woodlands of the state. But that hardly matters now.”

Hank couldn’t suppress the bitterness that edged his tone. “Our grandfather died the year after my father was wrongfully hanged for a crime he didn’t commit.”

“Hanged?” Lacy shook her head. “That sounds like the kind of thing that would happen here.”

“It actually happened in the backcountry of Virginia. The next day, they learned who really had stolen the horse, but it was too late. Vigilante justice had been served. When the men responsible learned the truth, they took up a collection for my mother. They gave her fourteen dollars. She once commented that my father had been worth more to us dead than alive. Ironic, don’t you think?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bishop.”

“My father deserved his fate. Even if he wasn’t hanged for the right reason, my grandfather often said my father should have been hanged for one thing or another. My father caused such misery that my grandfather felt his death might bring some inkling of peace.”

“How did your grandfather die?” Gwen asked.

“The years simply caught up with him. It was hard to lose him,” Hank admitted. “He taught me much, and I will always be grateful for that. A few years later my mother remarried. Our stepfather was the complete opposite of our father. Martin Bishop believed in strong discipline and a plan for the future.”

“Bishop?” Gwen asked. “But wasn’t your last name already Bishop? Was he related?”

“No. He adopted us and we took his name when he married our mother. He insisted it be that way, and frankly, after the grief given in my childhood, I was glad to have a new start.”

“Was he a loving father?” Gwen asked.

Hank thought about this for a moment. “In a way. He loved my mother dearly and knew that in order to reach her heart, he would have to be good to her sons. Otherwise, I’m not convinced we would have mattered. Still, he did well by us, although Harvey could never see it. Harvey was difficult at every turn. He resented our stepfather for taking a good deal of our mother’s attention—attention Harvey had always enjoyed until that time.”

“It’s so hard to imagine Harvey that way,” Gwen admitted.

Lacy finally chimed in. “Yes, my sister is right. The Harvey we knew was a loving man who—”

“It’s obvious Harvey had some change of heart after leaving us,” Hank interrupted.

“The change had to do with giving his life to Jesus,” Gwen said softly. “Our father helped him to come to a better understanding of God when Harvey was so sick. He would pray over Harvey’s feverish body every night before going to bed. Then each morning, my father would bathe Harvey and pray for him again. As Harvey recovered, he wanted to know why our father put such stock in prayer. He wanted to know how it was that Pa could trust a heavenly Father he’d never seen or touched, when earthly fathers often failed so miserably with their children.”

Hank felt a band tighten around his heart. Hadn’t he asked himself the same question? A growing discomfort washed over him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. Somehow, he was very certain that knowing the answer would mean making some kind of change to his already well-ordered world.

He got to his feet, unable to suppress a groan. “Guess I’m getting old.” He motioned to the darkened woods. “I believe I’ll take my turn.”

“Better take the rifle,” Gwen reminded.

“I’ll be fine,” he replied and kept walking despite the pain. If he turned and saw her face, Hank knew he’d beg her to give him the answer Harvey had learned. Worse still, he knew beyond a doubt that, no matter what she told him, he’d believe her.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Virginia City yielded nothing useful to Hank. He was still sore and stiff—still frustrated by the lack of information or answers. They didn’t even have white shirts in stock that would fit his rather broad-shouldered frame. The girls took him to the shack they’d lived in with their father and Harvey. It was little more than a ten-by-ten log structure that Hank had figured to be used for storage. When Gwen had announced that five people had actually lived within its meager confines, he had a new admiration for the girls.

Folks in the area had pretty much given up on gold. There were a few old-timers still panning and working the creek beds, but the town was a mere shadow of what it once had been. Hank spoke to anyone he thought might offer him answers, yet he found nothing but additional questions.

The days slipped by, and as the trio made their way toward Norris, Hank couldn’t help but notice the temperatures had dropped considerably. It was nearly June, and they had seen both uncomfortable heat and bone-numbing chill within the same twenty-four-hour period.

“It’s amazing to me that it could be so hot in Virginia City and so cold here,” he said as they set up camp for the night in the mountains southwest of their next destination. Lacy had chosen their route, declaring she knew a shortcut back to Norris. Hank thought it beautiful country but worried that the valley would have been a better choice for them. At least there they had a well-established road. Here, it was little better than a path.

“Those clouds suggest snow,” Lacy said. “I don’t like the looks of it, Gwen. Maybe we should push on.”

“But you said yourself that this was a good place for shelter.

This rocky overhang will keep any snow off our fire, and we have plenty of water from the stream.”

“I suppose,” Lacy said, looking again at the sky.

“Even if we get a storm, we have a good supply of wood and food. I’m sure we’ll be just fine.”

“You aren’t seriously thinking it will snow that much, are you?” Hank could imagine a few flakes, but certainly nothing more dramatic.

“It’s dangerous to not be prepared,” Gwen told him. “Mountain weather is too unpredictable.”

Lacy nodded. “Pa used to be able to tell us almost to the minute when we could expect a rain in Kansas, but not here. I’m gonna gather more wood, just in case.” She took up an ax and headed off toward where several trees had fallen and were long dead.

“Should I help her?” Hank asked.

Gwen looked to where Lacy had gone, then shook her head. “There’s just the one ax, and Lacy likes to work with her hands. You can always offer later, but right now I think she needs to be alone. She’s been pretty moody lately. I’m not sure what’s bothering her, but she’s not talking about it.”

Hank could well understand; he had been troubled by his own thoughts of late. He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if they found nothing in Norris. Should he simply return home without the documents? And what of Montana? He could easily bring his mother to live with him, and they could have a pleasant life together. She would want for nothing. Perhaps that was the answer.

“Is there some way in which I could assist you?” he asked, abandoning the urge to make a decision.

Gwen smiled. “You’ve already done enough. Sit and relax. I know you’re still sore from riding. I can try to rub some of the ache from your back, if you like, after we eat. I’ll have supper ready in just a few minutes.”

He wasn’t sure he could relax. Not around Gwen, and especially not if she touched him. Their days of travel had put them in such close contact that Hank found himself thinking about her constantly. He didn’t like the idea of her remaining a spinster. If ever a woman needed a husband and children, it was Gwen Gallatin.

Settling on the ground and leaning back against the edge of the rock face, Hank tried not to watch her as she worked, but his gaze kept traveling back to her form. His thoughts continued to nag him. Why would she give up on marriage—on a husband and children? Was her love for Harvey so deep that she couldn’t bear the idea of another man’s touch?

She appeared surprised to find him watching her. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I was just thinking.” He quickly forced his mind to put his thoughts on the outcome of the trip. “I want you to know that I was wrong.”

“Wrong? About what?”

“I had you figured for a gold digger. When I learned Harvey had taken a wife, I figured you had seen the jewelry and stocks and presumed Harvey was a wealthy man. I know now that I was wrong. Obviously you loved my brother quite deeply—otherwise you wouldn’t still mourn him.”