Slowly, carefully, and minutes later, he found the boys in a small clearing in the mine high enough to allow a man to stand upright. It was heaped with rock, shale, and ore rubble. Black-faced, filthy, and wet, Lenny sat on a flat rock, and beside him, Isaac lay on the ground, his foot wedged under a large bolder that had slipped from the heap surrounding him. With the help of a fallen timber, Tye pried the rock upward enough to allow Lenny to pull Isaac’s foot from beneath it.
“Can you walk?” Tye heaved the boy up by his armpits.
“I think so,” Isaac said, wincing and shivering. “It’s my ankle, but I don’t think it’s broken.”
“Then let’s hobble out of here,” he said.
Before this whole damn tunnel falls down around our heads.
“Here, lean on me. Lenny, take the lantern, hold it high, and lead the way.”
With the help of Brett and Maria, both boys were lifted up the shaft to safety followed by Tye. Maria helped him loosen the rope from around his waist as he tumbled onto his knees, then onto his back in the wet grass. Never had he enjoyed the sight of open air, despite the rumble of thunder and light rain beginning to fall. He gazed up at the stormy, gray sky. Nearby, he heard the snicker of a horse coming around the mine from the trail below. Beside him Swamp whined and complained about getting wet, but loyally hunched down beside his master.
“Are you all right?” Maria asked with a worried frown. “You’re going to get soaked lying on the wet grass.”
He laughed cheerfully. “Maria, my dear sweet Maria, just to lie here and breathe in the clean air and be surrounded by miles…and miles…of space…is a blessing.” After a minute, he rolled to his feet, patted Swamp on the head, and surveyed the two boys huddled nearby.
“That’s Pa coming, and I’m going to get a licking for sure.” Lenny shivered and hung his scruffy head.
“Why did you two go in there?” There was a stern timbre to Brett’s voice. “Mines are a dangerous place to play, boy.” Behind them, Roy Sanderson rode up, slid off his horse, and glared at the boys, also waiting for an answer.
“I wanted to see if I could talk to my ma.” Lenny’s face was sullen, and his eyes grew misty. He fought to control the tears and swiped at them with his sooty hands making muddy-looking puddles on his cheeks. “Pa never talks about her. I thought if her spirit was there, she’d talk to me. I hardly remember her.” He looked at Tye. “It wasn’t Isaac’s fault. I begged him to come with me.”
Roy Sanderson started forward. “I ought to—”
Tye waved him away. He knelt in front of Lenny. “I lost my mother when I was just a little older than you. I know the loss and pain, even though I have a few memories. But you have to remember your ma’s spirit isn’t just down there in the mine, her spirit is everywhere. Her spirit is with you when you wake up in the morning and when you lay your head on your pillow at night. She hasn’t left you.” He thumped his chest. “She’s right here with you…in your heart…
always
.”
He rose and looked Roy Sanderson square in the eye. He shook his head sadly. “Maybe, old man, you need to start talking more with your son, instead of
at
him. He’s all you’ve got. He’s searching for answers to questions about his mother, and he deserves to get them. A man can’t rightly live a healthy life without having a few good memories to hold onto. The boy needs someone in his life he can turn to when things get tough. Wake up, man. He needs you.”
Grimly, he took the hat Maria handed him, jammed it on his head, and walked away with Brett beside him and Swamp trotting behind them.
“Come,” Maria said to Isaac, “let me help you.” She put her arms around the boy’s shoulders. “Hold on to me. You can ride behind me. Let’s get you to your mother and father. They must be sick with worry.”
Alone, Roy Sanderson stood on top of the mine, staring at his son as the sky opened up, pouring torrents of rain upon them as if it was crying its heart out.
****
Later that afternoon when the rains had stopped and skies had cleared, Brett was surprised to see Tye come thundering into the yard at the lumber mill. From his office window, he could see the man was not in the best of moods. He had changed his blackened, wet clothes and was wearing new buckskins and knee-high boots and what looked like a new tan hat. He dismounted and tied his horse at the rail and, ignoring everyone around him, stormed directly into Brett’s office.
“It’s not often I have the privilege or pleasure of your company on the south side of town.” Brett watched Tye slump down in a chair across from him and cross a leg over the top of his knee. The ivory handle of a knife protruded from his boot. “By the way, that was a nice job out there in the mine this morning.”
His face sullen, Tye removed his Stetson, tossed it crown side up on Brett’s desk and grunted. His vexation was evident. “Is your fancy suit still spotless?”
“Still clean as a whistle.” Brett brushed at the front of his vest like he was dislodging some specks of dirt. He felt a faint twinge of humor forming on his lips and forced himself not to chuckle. “See you have a new hat. About time. So what can I do for you? I’m going to guess you’re not interested in discussing my clothes or buying lumber today.”
“I need some help, and I don’t want my brothers involved.”
Brett heaved a sigh. There was never any beating around the bushes with Tye Ashmore. He looked at the gloomy man with a wary expression. “I smell trouble. Haven’t you had enough excitement for today, Tydall?” He raised an eyebrow. “Does this
help
involve me getting wet, dirty, or hurt?”
Tye shook his head. “No, you just have to hold my hat.”
“Hold your hat?”
“Well, it’s a new hat, and I don’t want to get it soiled on a filthy saloon floor. And it would help if you could train a gun on some of Lang Redford’s friends if they make a misstep while I have a short discussion with him.”
When Brett looked at him half in anticipation and half in dread, Tye continued, “It seems Redford’s been pushing his weight around with the O’Donnell sisters, and I aim to have him stop. He and his men are over at the saloon, and I figure we should have a little talk with the galoot while it’s fresh in our minds.”
“We?” Brett’s voice rose an octave.
“Take it easy, compadre. I have a plan.”
“Oh, hellfire.” Brett sighed. “I hope it’s better than the one we had on the flatboat. And if I’m holding your hat, what the devil will you be doing?”
“Depends upon Redford. I’ll try to be reasonable and diplomatic.”
Brett snorted and rose from his desk. He couldn’t help grinning. “Well, what are we waiting for?”
When the two men rode into town a quarter hour later, the day was drawing to a close. Soon darkness would fall, and the tinny sounds of the piano would echo from the saloon. But now, the air still hummed with the sounds of rattling harnesses, children’s laughter, and adult voices. A few carriages and wagons still remained on the street, drawn up to the hitching posts and tied with a set of reins. Women with baskets hurried along the sidewalk, heading home to fix supper while children, fresh out of school, rolled hoops and skipped rope.
Brett and Tye dismounted and tied their horses to the rail outside the saloon.
“I really don’t want to make this into a gun fight, unless necessary,” Tye warned.
“Unless necessary? What the devil? I thought you said you had a plan.” Brett threw him a quick look of dismay.
“I do, but it has room for changing horses in the middle of the stream, so to speak.”
Brett grunted. “Just give me a signal if you’re going to jump on my proverbial horse so I’ll know ahead of time if I have to swim.” They grinned at each other remembering the mailbag and the flatboat.
Together they walked through the batwing doors, taking time to let their eyes adjust to the smoky, dim interior. Only a few people were at the bar. Across the room, Lang Redford was playing poker with Jebb Masters, Pat Wenson, and an unshaven man who appeared to be a drifter.
“Redford, we need to have a little talk.” Tye removed his hat and handed it to Brett.
He walked toward the table and stopped a few feet away.
“Sorry, Ashmore, but I have a card game to finish here. And it looks like I’m ahead.”
“No, it looks like your luck’s run out.” Tye crossed the distance and grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him upward as if he was tossing a sack of feed. The other men at the table scrambled up, reaching for their guns.
Brett stepped forward, his gun already drawn. “Easy, easy, gentlemen.” He trained his revolver at them. “This is a friendly discussion between Tye and Redford.”
“Get your hands off me, Ashmore!” Lang Redford spit out. He pushed himself away, straightening his suit coat. “Such uncivilized behavior! Is this about the little schoolmarm you’ve been keeping company with?”
“Stay away from Maria
and
Abigail,” Tye ordered. A muscle flicked angrily on his jaw.
“Is this a warning, Ashmore? Or a threat?”
“Call it what you want, but stay away from the women if you know what’s good for you.”
“What? You keeping both of them for yourself?” Redford grinned. “Isn’t that a bit greedy? Maybe some of us would like a little whirl with them. They sure are lookers, and I aim to have a look under their skirts myself.”
Before Brett could even utter the words, “Your goose is cooked.” Tye stepped closer, and his right fist came flying up, hitting Redford’s left check with a solid, bone-jarring crack. He followed it with a quick left hook that caught Redford on the right side of the face, below his eye, and sent him tumbling backward and onto the floor with a heavy thump. The man lay unconscious in a heap at his feet.
Tye’s icy gaze circled the wide-eyed men at the table. “You tell Redford, if he comes close to either of those women again, the next time I see him, he’ll have a choice of knives or guns—and I’ll make sure he won’t be able to open his eyes to look at anything except Lucifer. And the warning goes for all of you.” Tye stalked to Brett who was backing slowly out the door with his gun still drawn. He snatched his hat, jamming it on his head.
“Well, I wouldn’t certainly call that your best diplomatic moment, Tydall,” Brett muttered under his breath and followed him toward the hitching rail and their mounts.
Chapter Twenty-One
It was Friday, but there was no school. Maria arose and began to tidy up the cottage and kitchen while an applesauce cake finished in the oven and a pan of cornbread cooled on the counter. The whole town was in a state of constant motion, and excitement was high as they prepared for their annual harvest celebration to be held on Saturday. Farmers from around the area would be bringing in livestock and fall vegetables to sell, and the women of Golden were making baked goods to sell and cakes to auction off to the highest bidders. A variety of music would be presented under the trees near the blacksmith shop, and a barn dance was planned for later in the evening. During the week, Maria had helped the children organize a small parade through the town at noon complete with wagons, homemade flags, and songs.
Late last night, Abigail had left for the Mule Shed, a bundle of quilts under her arms, determined to find whoever was stealing from the safe. She intended to sleep on the floor of the barroom after it closed for the evening. Normally, Maria would have been worried, but when Brett heard about her antic, he insisted upon accompanying her. Maria hoped Abigail furnished him with some good whiskey while they sat on the hard wooden floor waiting for a thief who might never arrive.
The wuffle of a horse outside the door brought the puppy to attention, and he started yapping at the door, tail wagging.
“Shhh.” Maria tried to hush the dog dancing excitedly around her feet.
She opened the door to find Swamp and Tye standing on the porch.
“You should at least ask who’s there before you open your door,” he scolded, a frown on his face.
“Emerson knew it was someone friendly,” she shot back with an indignant look.
“Emerson?” He removed his hat and a flash of confusion crossed his face.
“The pup.”
“You named the dog Emerson?”
Maria smiled. “Yes, after—”
“After Ralph Waldo Emerson, I presume. The poet and writer. Good thing you didn’t force the poor little guy to respond to Waldo.”
“I knew you’d get it!” She grinned. “Come, come in. Bring Swamp. I’ve fresh coffee on the back of the stove and a pan of cornbread cooling. Abigail spent the night at the barroom trying to chase down the safe thief, and she’s not back yet. I have some blackberry cobbler left from last night, too.”
He stepped inside, put his hat on the peg beside the door, and motioned to Swamp who sat quietly at his side even with the puppy tumbling around their feet. “It’s ok, boy. You can tangle with the little scamp.” He pointed to the pup, and Swamp went over to it, nudging it as it rolled over submissively onto its back, but then brazenly started to bat a paw at the older dog’s muzzle.
Tye pulled out his chair, but before he sat down, his arm snaked out and pulled Maria into his lap. “It’s not often we have any private time to ourselves, Miss O’Donnell.” He stole a quick kiss. It quickly grew into a more demanding one before she pushed at him.
Breathless, Maria struggled to her feet. She felt her face grow hot as she stepped away and poured him some coffee. “Cornbread or blackberry cobbler? Which do you prefer?”
“Which one is sweeter?”
“The cobbler.”
“The cobbler then.” He grinned. “If I can’t have you.”
“Tydall Ashmore, you have a sweet tooth.” She spooned some cobbler on a plate, then cut some squares of cornbread, and put them on another one. He grabbed her around the waist again and pulled her back down. “The cobbler can wait. Time alone with you is so very, very scarce.” He reached up and tucked the errant lock of hair that always fell into her eyes behind her ear. “When are you going to marry me?”
She kissed him and scrambled up, laughing. “You just sweet talk me, Tye, when you know the kitchen is full of good things to eat.”
“And I’ll sweet talk you some more since we have the entire cottage to ourselves, praise the Heavens above!” He looked over at the stove. “Is the applesauce cake yours or Abigail’s?”