Cole's Redemption (Love Amongst the Pines) (11 page)

             
"I hope you like ham and beans. I'm just about outta meat. I didn't have too much money left, so I only bought flour and sugar when I was in town. I was looking to get a couple of chickens but decided not to because we haven't had any luck with them. They keep dying off."

             
"You don't have to do this," he told her. Sighing, he slowly began to sit up. The dizziness had almost gone and, though his hands still hurt like the devil, they were better. He studied his injuries for a moment; the swelling had started to go down. Inside the bandages, he could make out the stick splints that had straightened out his broken fingers. He counted five of them; two on one hand, three on the other.

             
When he glanced up, she was standing before him, arms crossed, foot tapping.

             
"Do what? Cook? We have to eat, don't we?"

             
"That's not what I meant. You don't have to pretend that I'm asleep when you know better. You don't have to treat me like I was a child."

             
"Really. How you
gonna
eat with them hands? Or, take a piss, or wipe your..."

             
Cole quickly put up one bandaged hand. "I get your point. I concede that for the time being, I do need your help with certain things. I don't want you going out of your way for me. I ate plenty of jerky when I was on the trail, and I drank blackstrap whisky when there was no water."

             
"I
ain't
got no whisky and the jerky's in the root cellar. The beans and salt pork were already in the cabin. I only have enough flour for the rest of the week. You'll have to eat yesterday's cornbread for breakfast." She turned and returned to her spot, dropping small, whole onions into the pot.

             
A long silence stretched between them. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "I'm a bastard."

             
She relaxed slightly. "
Naw
, You're just way too caught up in yourself." She covered the pot and stood. "I'm going to go check on Dermott and Judge. You want anything before I go?"

             
"No. I'll manage." He said nothing else as she grabbed a tattered shawl and a small basket of foodstuffs and headed out the door.

She turned back to him for a moment. "You know, it
ain't
no crime needing help from time to time. I hope you're feeling better."

             
When she had gone, Cole closed his eyes and dropped his head. She had taken his sharp words and turned them back on

him
. But instead of stabbing him, her words had felt like a balm. Damn if he didn't want more than anything to find some reason to be angry
at
her, to hate her.

             
Cole laughed at himself. He'd faced down gunfighters, murderers, and hard-shelled lawmen. But something about this half-pint girl knocked him back. For a moment, he could see just what it might be like to take her in his arms and hold her the way a man ought to hold his woman. Tiredly, he rubbed the heel of his hands across his eyes. She was not his woman. He couldn't have a wife, a child, or any of those things. His chances for a decent life had waned with the last breaths of Maggie and Zachary.

             
The rest of the morning went without incident. She fed him, washed him, and helped him with all of his bodily functions without batting an eye. She didn't mention their conversation earlier though Cole suspected his declaration of his intention of ignoring their marriage was hanging close to her thoughts.

             
"I want to see the mine," he told her after she'd fed him breakfast.

             
"You're not well yet. There's no hurry." "You mean you're not anxious for me to get to work?" "Well, of course, I would like to find the silver before the first snow, but that mine's been sitting idle awhile, it'll wait until your hands heal up."

             
"I see. How long is awhile?"

             
She paused a moment, gathering the plate and spoon, her gaze darting away.

             
"What is it?" he asked. "What's wrong?" "Nothing. Nine years." "Nothing has been done with the mine in that long? Why?" "My Ma started getting sick then, and Pa wasn't one for finishing things he started."

             
"I'd say so. Tell me about the mine," he said gently.

             
"Pa won this land in a game of poker. He was so sure that we'd be in the money in no time. He and Uncle Dermott were so happy to finally start making a good living. Pa was a card player and ran the roulette wheel at a place called Diamond Jacks. Ma was a dancehall girl, and the three of them was
settin
' out to find their fortune."

             
Cole watched her eyes sparkle when she talked about he parents. "It sounds like a good time for you."

             
"Oh yeah, it was. Ma was going to buy me new dresses and those black leather boots that the finest ladies wear. She was going to have
a her
own carriage, and in our fancy clothes we were
gonna
go back to San Francisco, and thumb our noses at all those people who always talked so bad about us. It was going to be grand."

             
"Sounds wonderful. What happened?"

             
"Can't say as I quite know, really. Pa and Uncle Dermott started digging and hauling out big wagonloads of dirt. I swear they worked nonstop for two years. And, Ma, she helped, too. So did I. We just knew we was
gonna
find silver. Instead, all we got was dirt and more dirt."

             
"Maybe there isn't any silver," Cole said softly.

             
"Oh, I know it's easy to think that. I mean,
there's
quite a few dry claims around here, and most of the gold has been mined out in these parts. Ma said that the silver is
there,
we just hadn't dug deep enough. She prayed about it, and God told her in a vision that her fortune was here."

             
"When was that?"

             
"The first time that Pa left us. He couldn't help it none, but he was kind of a wanderer. Just couldn't stay still for very long. He'd go up and down the coast, be gone for months at a time, but he always came back. Except for the last time, about a year ago, when he fell from his horse and got snake-bit. It wasn't his fault, though."

             
"What did your uncle and your mother do when he was gone?"

             
"They started making plans to work the mine. First, they had to get some money for supplies. My ma would go to town and take in laundry, and Dermott would muck stalls for the livery. I swear they worked day and night for a while. Ma said that we didn't have
no
choice about it. She and Dermott tried working the mine on their own. When spring came last year and Pa didn't come home, she decided to try and find him on her own. Me an Uncle Dermott stayed here and waited for her. When she came back two weeks later, she was sick. I thought she breathed in too much dust or something. When Doc Evans came out, he told us that she'd got consumption when she was in the city. When she couldn't find Pa, she was heartbroken."

             
"I don't blame her."

             
"
Naw
, me neither. A few weeks later, Uncle Dermott found him out on the trail. He must have been riding home when his horse threw him. Uncle
Derm
said there was a bunch of rattler bites on him."

             
"I'm sorry. It must have been pretty hard for you."

             
"Ma just got sicker and sicker. It was kind of a relief when she passed. At least she didn't have to suffer no more." She sighed.
             
"Since then, it's just been me and Dermott."

             
"And then you came to my trial and bought yourself a whole new set of problems."

             
"I just thought that if I got a fella up here, and we started digging again, we could find that silver. I don't much care about the fancy dresses and all. I want to prove my Ma and Pa was right. That they weren't fools for
stickin
' out this claim."

             
"Are you really sure that's what you want to do?" he asked.

             
"I
ain't
no fool.
But, I always felt that if we dug deep enough, it'd be there. Like it was just out of our reach."

             
"Sometimes, Natalie, things are out of your reach for a reason. Maybe you're not finding the silver means it's time to move on."

             
Shaking her head, Natty jumped to her feet. "You're wrong! That silver is here, and I'm
gonna
find it. You're just like everybody else!"

             
She backed away from him, but he stood and moved in close. He had a sense that maybe this was his purpose for staying alive just a little longer. Maybe he was meant to protect her from her own stubborn nature. Maybe his 'hanging' bride was the one who really needed saving. Or maybe the blows to his hands somehow muddled up his brains. He wasn't entirely sure which was which.

             
"All right. Whether I am or not, isn't the point here. Let's you and I make a deal. I will stay until next fall. I'll dig every day that I can hold a pick and a shovel. If at the end of that year there's no silver, then I go back to town, and you get yourself a real life. That means we get the marriage annulled, and you start thinking about getting a husband, or becoming a schoolteacher, or something. Your parents wasted their lives on foolish things. That was their choice. Here's the thing, everybody has a choice, Natalie. Don't throw yours away."

             
She blinked at him through teary eyes. "Like you did?" He felt her sting, but he wouldn't let it hurt. "Like I did."

             
Miriam woke with a start. They had been traveling through the night, when she had let slip her uneasiness and dozed off. It wasn't the constant jarring motion that woke her, though. She'd gotten plenty used to that since leaving Boston. Something else had disturbed her sleep, a feeling that she was being watched, as if some unseen predator was crouching just beyond her senses, waiting for the right moment to attack.

             
Peering over the rim of her blanket, she saw Wesley Greene staring at her with hard, dark eyes. The first sight of him sent a chill up her spine.

             
"Is there something the matter, Mr. Greene?"

             
His eyes barely flickered. He didn't move for a few seconds, obviously sizing her up. "Not particularly," he answered in a slow drawl. "I don't mean to pry, but I was just wondering what such a pretty, genteel lady would be doing so far from civilization?"

             
"I told you. I'm going to see my son."

             
He nodded, reaching into his
coat,
he pulled forth a battered piece of white paper. Miriam knew it was the wanted poster she'd carried. Her chill became frost when she reached out and took it from him.

             
"You're son is the man in that picture?"

             
"Yes," she answered. No use in lying at this juncture. "Yes, he is."

             
"And you're traveling all this way to see him hanged? That's what will happen, you know. Says there that he's a murderer."

             
She set her jaw. "I don't believe everything I read, Mr. Greene. Do you?"

             
"I believe wanted posters." He let out a slow breath. "Do you think you can save him?"

             
She turned her gaze away from him for a moment. Looking out at the pre-dawn landscape, she watched the trees and fields pass by them. She'd sold every bit of property she'd owned, all of her jewelry, her husband's carriage and purebred horses, all of their belongings, and her home by the lake. All of those tender bank notes were sewn into her clothing and into the lining of her luggage. She was risking everything. Her husband had been a moderately successful lawyer, but his death had left her without hope of future income. She had enough money in savings and in her assets to live the rest of her life. But what good was that life if she was to die knowing she'd sat by and done nothing while Cole had suffered? The truth was, she'd give everything, including her own life, if need be, to save her only son.

             
"I am going to try. I'm his mother, after all."

             
"I wouldn't hang too much on that, if you'll pardon my
sayin
' so. He's a man grown, who made a man's decisions. Don't waste your time on him."