Far Away Home (15 page)

“I know but
we’ll be together.”

She felt him nod
in agreement.

After a few
moments, he smiled down at her. “I’m very happy about you and Johnny.”

Aislynn pulled
away and looked at him in disbelief. “What?”

“You and
Johnny?” he asked.

“Johnny? I’m
here because I love you. I came two thousand miles, a quarter of which I
walked, to be with you!” As her excitement rose, so did the pitch of her voice.

“You are with
me, but you’re promised to Johnny.”

Aislynn shook
her head. “No!”

“You made a
promise to him before you left New York, and you reaffirmed it every night you
lay next to him.”

Aislynn felt her
heart stop. “He promised not to tell you.”

“He didn’t,” Tim
smiled, “but you just did.”

Angry tears were
rising to her eyes. “Nothing happened.”

“I know. If I
had any doubt, you’d be married tomorrow.” Tim frowned, brushing a loose hair
from her face. “Johnny’s a decent man, a fine choice.”

“He’s not my
choice, and you know that.”

“I know that now
we’re both promised.”

Aislynn sat back
and glared at him. “I don’t care about those promises.”

“Yes, you do.
You’re an honorable young woman, it’s part of the reason I love and admire you
so much.”

Aislynn’s mind
raced. She had dreamed this moment thousands of times, from beginning to end.
Her fantasies had been so real, so sure, she never imagined they could not come
true. Not once had she thought of him accepting her engagement to Johnny. It
was intolerable. He had to want her. She felt the need to act. She threw her
arms around him and kissed him like Johnny had taught her. Tim leaned into her.
She knew she had done it right when she felt his mouth move on hers. She waited
for his reaction to stir her.

Tim jerked his
head back. He grabbed her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length.
“Don’t,” he ordered. “I am not going to act on my loneliness and take advantage
of you. Nor will I allow you to make such a huge mistake. It would be wrong.”

“Not if you love
me,” she entreated, squirming under his hold.

In the dim light
of the fire, she could see sadness in his face. He relaxed his grip. Slowly, a
small indulgent smile came to his lips. He bent his head and rested his
forehead on hers. “Now that you have Johnny, I’d hoped you could understand the
difference between my love for you and the feelings I hold for Emma.”

Emma, the name
made her furious and her anger fed her resolve. Aislynn huffed. She stood and
pulled her coat around her like a knight girding for battle. She leaned over
him, her eyes blazing with a challenge, “The biggest difference is I’m here,
and she’s not.”

Chapter
14

At sunup,
Aislynn brought Tim back to a civilized state with a haircut and a shave. She
sent him off to work with a full stomach and a warm kiss. Then, she and Johnny
turned their attention to setting up their home.

With a two-man
saw, they pushed and pulled until three obstructive trees were felled. While
Johnny and the mules dragged the trees and began pulling stumps, Aislynn boiled
water to soak laundry and started to prepare suppertime pasties from the
leftover potted roast. With extra pastry dough, she made a pie from dried
apples for dinner.

When they
finished supper, Aislynn promised Tim ham and potatoes for dinner. He told
Aislynn to expect his co-workers; he did not feel comfortable eating so grandly
while they suffered with beans. Aislynn sighed in agreement. She did not like
the idea of his friends eating up her costly rations, but she wanted to please
Tim.

Aislynn removed
the pie from the oven and placed it on the stove’s shelf to cool while she
brought her buckets to the spring to collect more water for more laundry. When
she returned, she discovered a strange creature leaning over her pie. It was
covered in fur from top to bottom with an incomplete, hairy face. She stared at
it for a moment in horror.

“This your pie?”
it asked.

Aislynn nodded.

“Ain’t et no pie
for years. Spare a piece?”

Afraid to get
too close, she waved toward the pie and said, “Have some,” while her eyes
searched for Johnny. He was on the far side of the clearing, behind the mules,
dragging a stump. She started to call but thinking escape, she picked up her
skirt and ran until she stood next to him.

“There’s a
thing, a hairy thing by the stove,” she stammered, holding one hand to her
throat and waving in the direction of the beast with the other.

Johnny’s eyes
flew in the direction of the intruder who had his hands in the pie. “Did he
scare you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have
your gun?”

“Yes.” She
patted the apron pocket where her little pistol resided.

“Why didn’t you
shoot it?”

“I was afraid I
might hit it.”

“Not likely,”
Johnny said with a half smile. He brushed his hands on his pants, pulled his
Colt from its holster and took her arm. “Come on. Let’s see what this thing
is.”

As they
approached, the man was shoveling pie into his hairy face. He looked up and
with a full mouth, he asked, “This here your gal?”

Johnny grinned
at Aislynn and answered, “I like to think so.” 

“Good cook.”

“You look
hungry.”

“Yep. I ain’t et
in days. Some men stole my gear: knife, gun and all. Down to bugs and grubs.”

Johnny looked
back at Aislynn with a question in his eyes. He returned his gun to his holster
and said, “He seems harmless.” Addressing the man, Johnny introduced himself
and Aislynn.

“I’m No Nose
Goodman.”

They looked
through the tangle of facial hair and found a stub of flesh hanging over two
dark holes.

“Appropriate,”
Johnny said. “How’d you lose your nose?”

“Mountains,
frost. Ain’t got much toes nor fingers neither.” The man held up his
pie-covered hands and displayed thumbs, partial indexes and stubs where his
other fingers had been.

Aislynn bit her
lip as her repulsion turned to pity.

Johnny turned to
Aislynn and asked her to give him a proper meal.

“He’s filthy,”
she protested.

 “I can warsh me
hands,” No Nose offered.

Johnny walked
away as Aislynn shook her head. She made the old man bathe in steaming water
with lye soap. After she shaved him and cut his hair to the scalp, she made him
bathe a second time to ensure death to any bugs remaining on his body. The
furry clothes were burned. By dinnertime, No Nose sat at the table Johnny had
built from their bed boards with his hobbled hands folded before him. He was
drowning in Johnny’s shirt and pants but he was clean.

During dinner,
No Nose introduced himself to the group. He had been born during the War of
1812. When the war was over, his parents joined the Great Migration and started
west to the Indiana Territory, looking for cheap farmland. After his mother
died and the farm failed, he and his father continued to move farther west.
They became trappers, hunting for pelts, living off the abundance of nature.
Thirty years passed and the fur trade faded, as did the abundance of animals.
His father died and No Nose tried prospecting. Like most adventurers, he said
he had never found more than a pocketful of dust at any one time. Life in the
mountains was hard, with winters cold enough to freeze a man to death. The
winter of 1867-68 had been one of the worst he had ever seen. He decided it was
time to give up the mountain life and move into the big city and find work.

Aislynn laughed,
“This is not a city.”

“You got jobs,
ain’t you?”

Everyone looked
to Murphy for an assessment of the employment situation. “Right now, I have
more men than I can use. In awhile, we’ll need more, but we’re just gettin’
started at the mine.” 

Aislynn’s face
fell, and she looked at the old man. He seemed like a dog beaten so many times
he just crawled through life, hanging on until his next beating. She frowned at
Murphy who was leaning over his plate to raise another forkful of ham to his
mouth. Sensing her displeasure, Murphy dropped his fork and added, “I’m sure
there’ll be plenty of jobs once people set up businesses in camp.”

Trying to soothe
the old man, she stated, “Johnny is starting a business.”

Johnny’s brows
darted up, and his eyes searched Aislynn’s for an explanation.

Angry he had not
taken his cue, she glared at him, eyes wide, mouth pinched.

Johnny’s
tongue rubbed his teeth, and he nodded at Aislynn. “Fine, No Nose can help me
until he finds some work.”

Aislynn smiled
her approval of Johnny’s generosity around the table.

“You been right
kind, feedin’ me and all. I’m gonna repay you ‘fore I starts a job.” No Nose
offered.

Mr. Frank added,
“You have been very generous with all of us, Miss Denehy.”

“You oughtta be
chargin’ us,” Murphy laughed.

“It’s settled,”
No Nose declared, slapping his partial hand on the table. All eyes fell on the
old man. “We gonna build you a cabin.”

In the lantern’s
light, she could see the various levels of surprise registering on the faces of
the men.

“You boys and me
starts tomorrow.”

“I have to work
tomorrow, but I’m off on Sunday,” Tim offered.

“Ve all help on
Sunday,” Spittlehouse suggested.

Aislynn lay in
bed reviewing her day.
For all the miles I've come, I'm still doing laundry,
mending and again, cooking for five, no, six men. Men, would starve, stink, do
anything to avoid chores they deemed women’s work.
Her lot in Utah seemed
very much like life on Worth Street.

But now, I'm
going to have my own house.
She kept herself awake building the cabin in
her mind: how big she wanted it, where the windows would go, and how she would
arrange their things. She recalled the prints she had seen in
Godey’s
Ladies Book
.
I’m going to need curtains and carpets and furniture.
Then, she decided how to pay for them.

Aislynn
sacrificed one of her chickens and fried it for supper. She made biscuits with
honey and vanilla cake and served some to Johnny and No Nose. She packed the
remaining food in a basket and walked up to the mine office. Tim was in Ogden
with Frank and Spittlehouse, but she found Mr. Murphy seated at one of the five
cluttered desks. The office smelled of chemicals and hard-working men. In one
corner, a large table with bottles, tools and a scale anticipated Mr.
Spittlehouse’s ore tests. Mr. Frank’s maps, charts and memos, tacked on the log
walls, watched over the sunlit room.

“Good
afternoon,” she said sweetly. “We just finished our supper, and I remembered
you up here, alone and hungry. I said to myself, ‘Aislynn, go invite Mr. Murphy
to have a picnic with you.’ ”

Murphy’s face
showed his great surprise, and he smiled at the idea.

“Look what I
have for you.” Aislynn brought the basket up to his face and slipped off the
cloth. The smell of the chicken rose in the room.

“Goodness, Miss
Denehy, this may be the nicest offer any lady has ever made me. I don’t recall
the last time I picnicked.”

Aislynn tugged
his sleeve and said, “Well, then, let’s go.”

“Well, you see.
I got work to do.”

Aislynn pulled
the basket away and pouted, “Are you turning me down?”   

Watching the
basket disappear behind her hip, Murphy panicked, “No, Ma’am.” He grabbed his
hat and took her arm.

“I’m sure you
know some nice, quiet place nearby where we can talk while you eat.”

“Well, yeah.
Follow me.”

They climbed up
the mountain through the forest. The ground was scattered with hardy understory,
dead branches and needles. Murphy struggled with the climb, but he took her
arm, helping her over the debris. They halted over a slight ridge that stifled
the noise from the mine. The air rang with birds calling, and sunlight cracked
through the trees, painting bright golden shapes on the dark forest floor.
Aislynn spread the cloth on the ground. Murphy lowered his great weight with a
thud. Finding a comfortable position for his cumbersome body took a great many
movements. He came to rest on his side, propped up on an arm. Aislynn opened
the basket and presented him with a chicken wing.

While Murphy
chewed on the wing, Aislynn spoke. “You know, Mr. Murphy, I must thank you and
your friends for the lovely offer to help build a cabin for me. But I was
wondering,” she hesitated for a moment and cocked her head to the side. “You
see,” she continued, “I don’t know anything about property and money and such.
I am uncertain, who would actually own the cabin if we build it on Mr. Moran’s
land?”

“Well, I s’ppose
Moran.”

“Oh dear. What a
shock. I do need to purchase the land then, don’t I?”

“I s’ppose you
do.”

“I am willing to
make you an offer of eighty dollars.”

“I believe Moran
‘spects more than that. He thinks minin’ camp land oughta go for $250 a lot,
with no mineral rights, of course. And them lots are half the size of the one
you’re on.”

“But we need the
room. Johnny has to build his forge. Mr. Moran has seven thousand acres; do you
think him so selfish as to begrudge me one?”

“No. Well, he
shouldn’t. But he might. And he wants $250.”

“But I only have
eighty dollars.” Aislynn frowned and hugged the basket in her lap. “Let me ask
you this, has anyone else made an offer to buy land?”

“No, Miss, not a
one, yet.”

“Well, there you
have it.” Aislynn reached into the basket and extracted a biscuit and a jar of
honey. “It’s obvious. Mine is the best offer you’ve received.” She started to
spoon honey onto the biscuit. It formed a soft, golden mound with a tiny point
on the top. “You’re Moran’s agent. He expects you to make independent decisions
for him. He trusts you to do what’s right, or he would never have put you into
such an important post. Why, you’re like the captain of a ship, out on the
waves, making choices for the owner, steering it on the right course.” She
slowly lifted the biscuit near his lips, asking, “Now, don’t you think Mr.
Moran would rather have eighty dollars over nothing?”  

Murphy nodded
slowly. His eyes were fixed on the honey dripping down her fingers. Tiny beads
of sweat were forming on his forehead, and his breathing seemed short. “Yes,”
he stammered. Aislynn slipped the biscuit into his mouth.

“Thank you. It
is such a relief. I knew you would understand me. Well, I suppose,” she
whispered leaning close to him, “you understand women. Homes are so precious to
us. I would have been so worried if I did not know for sure I owned my cabin.”
Aislynn stuck her fingers in her mouth and sucked the honey off of them.

She handed him a
chicken leg and began to tell him about her cabin and how she was going to pay
for all the things she wanted. “I am opening a restaurant. Of course, it was
your idea. You suggested paying me for cooking meals. I’m planning on using the
tent once the cabin is built. But I will need about $150 to get started, for
pots, pans, chairs and china.”

“That’s a heap a
money. Where are you gonna to get it?”

Aislynn held a
full chicken breast before him. He grabbed it and brought it right to his
mouth. “When we go into Ogden to file the deed, I’m going to ask for a loan at
the bank.”

“You might have
trouble gettin’ money there. Mormon’s don’t like doin’ business with Gentiles.”

“But I have to
have the money, or I have no way to make money. Even you said, ‘money makes
money.’ ”

Murphy sent her
a sympathetic smile. He swallowed and said, “I’d lend it to you if I had it.”

Aislynn
shoulders slumped. She took a wide wedge of cake from the basket and a small
jar of strawberry preserves. As she piled the jam on the cake, she spoke, “What
a terrible disappointment. I thought this would be a way to feed you and the
others every single night. I could make all your favorite things. All you’d
have to do is ask, and I’d give you anything you want.” The cake lay in
Aislynn’s lap as she licked the spoon. She sighed, her chest heaving. Sweat
poured down Murphy’s face, and he wiped it with the back of his hand. His
breathing grew rapid and hard as he stared at the cake resting on her thighs.

“Well, I guess…”
he stalled and nodded.

“Yes?” Aislynn
lifted the dessert.

Breathless, he
whispered hoarsely, “I suppose the mine wouldn’t miss $150 if you promise to
pay it back right quick.”

Aislynn handed
him the cake. While he frantically forced forkfuls into his mouth, barely
pausing to chew, she leaned toward him with her hands crossed over her breasts
and cried, “Yes, Mr. Murphy! Yes!”