Native Gold (25 page)

She skimmed one of them now, the one she’d first drawn from memory in a heated passion. Even the rendering of the man had the power to make her heart beat unsteadily. But as she studied the drawing, she realized it was flawed. The portrait was recognizable as Sakote, but it didn’t truly represent the man. In life, his eyes were not as cold as they appeared on the page, and his lips—had she really imagined them so unyielding?

A loud knock at the door startled Mattie from her thoughts, and she quickly stuffed the drawing back inside her portfolio.

It was the Campbells. All four boys, their hats doffed and their manners well in hand, had come to beg her attendance at some festivity the camp planned for the evening. At least, that was what she could glean from their chatter.

"We’d be much obliged if you’d..."

"...it bein’ Saturday night an’ all."

"...nothin’ real fancy, just some of the boys..."

"...a few card games and whatnot to..."

"If you could see your way to join us..."

"...lots of eats and a little dancin’ maybe."

"You do know how to dance?"

They waited with eyes agog and hushed breath. Of course she knew how to dance. She was a lady, after all. And how could she refuse the handsome lads?

"I’d be delighted," she told them, and her warm smile ignited a surreptitious nudging match between the siblings.

Only after they left did she pause to wonder how a camp full of men could possibly conduct a proper dance.

Her question was answered as she milled about the party later that evening. Because of the new supplies, Amos had prepared a savory supper—roast beef
and
boiled ham, as well as a rich oyster soup, sourdough biscuits, a velvety peach pie, and Madeira nuts and raisins. Everyone gathered in the blossom of light thrown by the dozen or so oil lanterns hung in the trees. The men cleared an area of the hard-packed dirt and let the first couple take the floor.

Swede bowed to his partner with solemn dignity and extended a meaty hand, the nails of which had been recently scrubbed to near white. His beaver hat and his black coat, though spare in girth and short in the sleeve, made a striking contrast to his freshly washed moon-bright hair, and his newly shaved chin was as round and smooth as a baby’s bottom.

He nodded to the musicians. One of the Mexican brothers strummed the guitar, Tom blew a lilting run on his fife, and Frenchy leaned into his weeping violin. Then, on Frenchy’s hushed count of four, they proceeded to play a curious but danceable Mexican ballad interwoven with an Irish jig.

Swede’s partner rushed to finish knotting a red kerchief around one arm, and then placed a hand lightly atop the big man’s paw.

Without cracking a smile, the couple sashayed off.

Mattie bit back a horrified giggle at the mismated pair, yet no one around her appeared the least bit disturbed by the sight of Swede and Zeke circling around the packed dirt like the handsome swain and the belle of the ball. In fact, before the musicians could finish two more bars, several other "couples" joined in to take a turn about the deck. Nobody seemed to mind whether they wore the hat or the kerchief, as long as someone swung them around the dance floor.

Mattie knew she couldn’t avoid the expectant stares of the miners for long. Granny was the only other
real
female in the camp, and by the look of the sour old woman lurching about to the strains of the lively music, she took to dancing like a cat took to water. Sooner or later, Mattie would have to accept the miners’ invitations to dance.

She’d avoided looking at the huge cask of brandy that dominated the creaking table, set there by men who had no qualms about leaving it unattended. But now she believed she might need the liquor’s fortification. Otherwise, it’d be a long night. Bracing herself, she managed to down four sips of the strong stuff before the song came to an end.

Everyone cheered, and all eyes went to her in askance. Swallowing her dread, she clapped her hands appreciatively.

"That was wonderful, gentlemen. I do believe I’m ready to dance now."

Mattie soon had cause to regret her words. The men didn’t give her a moment to catch her breath. As soon as one gent finished up with a miner’s minuet, another clasped her hand to beg the subsequent reel. She was passed from man to man like downy thistle on the wind.

The miners were cordial and decent—Swede watched with a stern frown to ensure that no one’s hands strayed from her waist—but soon the dancing became sloppy. As the level of the brandy cask lowered, so did the facility of Mattie’s partners. Billy Cooper might have fallen had it not been for her support as they keeled a bit too near the band. Red Boone stepped on her foot twice. Jasper Colton, his breath reeking with liquor, declared his sudden affection for her as they swayed over the food table. Even Zeke was drunk, dropping his head on her shoulder for a little snooze, mid-dance, before she jostled him awake and handed him off to Granny.

But the real chaos began when Dash, the oldest Campbell boy, asked her to dance.

"You’ll have to forgive me if I sit this one out," Mattie panted, resting a hand on her bosom. "I’m a bit out of breath."

His younger sibling, Ben, smirked and elbowed him aside. "Why would she want to dance with you anyways? You were trompin’ all over her the last time."

"What?" Dash gasped, mortified.

"Come along, ma’am," Ben continued with a wink, clasping her elbow. "I’ll show you how a gentleman does it."

"No. Truly, sirs," Mattie intervened, removing his fingers from her arm with as much diplomacy as she could. "I’d be delighted to dance with either of you in a moment, but just now, I’m a little fatigued."

Jeremy, the youngest Campbell, had wandered up by now to see what the fuss was about. "You feelin’ all right, ma’am?"

"Just a little tired," Mattie replied.

"You hear that?" Ben poked a finger at Dash’s chest. "She wouldn’t be tired if you hadn’t plum wore her out."

"Me?" Dash shoved his sibling. "You were the one doin’ all them fancy-dancy..."

Harley, the fourth brother, stepped between them. "What’s all this about now?"

Dash pushed him aside. "She don’t need you comin’ to her rescue, little brother."

"Now wait a damn minute. Who the hell are you to..."

Dash’s eyes grew wide, and he snagged the front of his brother’s shirt in his fist. "What was that? What did you say? And in front of a lady?"

"Well, now, ma’am, I apologize," Harley said, tipping his hat, "and to show you just how contrite I am, I’d like to offer you my arm for the next dance."

"The hell you will!" Dash hollered.

"I’ll be! Dash cussed!" Jeremy cried with glee. "Dash cussed!"

Jeremy hit the ground, followed shortly by Harley, both of them shoved there by their oldest brother.

"Dreadful sorry about that, ma’am," Dash tried to apologize, wiping his hands on his trousers. "The boys’ve got a wild nature, and—“

"Oh, yeah," Harley complained, scrambling to his feet again. "I got a wild nature, but you’re the one’s been pinin’ away over the lady like a moonstruck cow."

Dash blushed ferociously. "I never—“

"Ah, criminy, you have, too," Jeremy piped in, getting up. "All of us have." He slugged Harley on the shoulder. "I even heard
you
composin’ a ditty to the lady."

"What!" Harley bellowed. "Why, you good-for-nothin’..." He seized his accuser by the back of the collar, spun him around, and planted a swift boot to the seat of Jeremy’s pants.

After that, Mattie lost track of who insulted whom and what fist contacted whose face. But the mayhem grew as fast as a wildfire, igniting every miner, Campbell or not, close enough to catch a stray fist. While she cowered behind the food table in mounting horror, the dancing deteriorated into a brawl.

The musicians seemed well-prepared for the eventuality. Their music fizzled to a halt, and they carefully stashed their instruments just inside one of the lean-tos. Then, to Mattie’s dismay, they eagerly returned to join the fracas themselves.

Jasper Colton was the first casualty. He had imbibed generously from the cask of brandy, so the punch Ben threw to his chin pushed him over the edge of oblivion. Red Boone, drinking two cups to Jasper’s one, soon followed when one of the Mexicans slammed into him, ramming him headfirst into a pine tree. Billy and Bobby Cooper fought their own private battle until Granny beaned them both over the head with one of Amos’s giant iron skillets, while Zeke, too drunk to stand, cheered her on. Even Tom took a hefty swig of brandy, rolled up his sleeves, and rubbed his hands together, ready to go to work on anyone who looked at him cross-eyed. Frenchy, hardly a fighter, but unwilling to be left out, delighted in crowning unsuspecting victims with what remained of supper, and at least half a dozen miners battled with beans slopping down over their faces.

For Mattie, it was a nightmare of swearing, spitting, and smashing. Blood and sweat spattered the ground at every sickening thud of a fist, and grunts of pain filled the air. But worst of all, despite all the shocking violence, in a sense, the men actually seemed to be enjoying themselves.

It was Swede who eventually came to her rescue, and even he proved a dubious hero at best, swaying from the effects of overindulgence and cheerfully booting several brawlers back into the fray. But he was alert enough to see that Mattie was mortified, and sober enough to see her home.

How long the melee ensued, Mattie didn’t know. She tucked herself into bed and covered her ears against the offensive din. It was still going on when she dropped off to sleep.

Towani looked well when Sakote and Hintsuli arrived at dawn to Noa’s little rock-and-plank cabin nestled in the Valley of the Squaw Men. Sakote had never seen his sister so happy. Noa swung the little boy around in greeting, his grin a great crescent moon in his face. It was clear by the blush on Towani’s cheek and the brightness of her eyes that there was great affection between his sister and his good friend, that perhaps they’d at last shared a bed.

The thought made him remember his own unrequited desire, and he chased the hope away before it could manifest in an unfitting manner.

"My brothers!" Towani squealed, running to greet them. "Welcome to our
hubo
."

Noa’s house was the same, but not the same. Sakote saw Towani’s touch everywhere—baskets and a grinding stone by the fireplace, a bunch of lupines in a cup on the table, her rabbit fur blanket tossed across the bed. Even Noa wore a pendant of shells Towani had made for him. And his sister was changed as well. She wore the long cloth skirts of a
willa
, and he recognized the blue shirt buttoned over her chest as Noa’s.

The first thing Towani wanted to know, whispering to Sakote while Noa entertained Hintsuli with a deck of playing cards, was how the white woman fared.

"I had a dream," she murmured, picking at the buttons of her shirt. "I dreamed that the white woman had no food for winter."

He took her gently by the shoulders. “She has gold to buy food,” he assured her. He didn’t add that the miners provided food for Mati as if she were some old and respected shaman.

"Still my heart is uneasy," she told him. "If something should happen to the woman..."

"Nothing will happen to her."

She bit her bottom lip and coiled a lock of his hair around her finger. "If I could only be sure..."

Sakote sighed. His sister could always pester him into doing things he didn’t wish to do. He tugged on the point of her chin. "All right, pesky mosquito. I’ll make sure she has food for the winter."

Her eyes lit up. "Thank you," she breathed, and then she did something she’d never done before. She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed his cheek. He frowned. It was a curious custom, this kissing, and he wasn’t sure he liked it coming from his sister.

Noa served biscuits, and they gathered near the fire. Sakote and Hintsuli sat on the dirt floor while Noa and Towani occupied the two split-oak stools. Sakote told them all the village news, which was little, and about the
Kaminehaitsen
, the Feather Dance, to come.

"My brother helped me to make a knife!" Hintsuli added, drawing the blade dramatically from its sheath.

"Ah!" Noa exclaimed. "That’s a fine blade. Are you going to show that off to your friends?"

Hintsuli nodded enthusiastically, then put the precious knife away. "But the best thing is the pictures I got from the white woman."

Sakote’s glance of condemnation shot toward Hintsuli like an arrow, but too late. The boy tugged several crumpled and folded pages from the back of his breechcloth. Noa and Towani looked on curiously.

"The white woman?" his sister asked.

"The white woman that used to be a
kokoni
," Hintsuli answered, smoothing the papers on the floor.

Towani paled.

"Hintsuli!" Sakote scowled. "She was never a
kokoni
. She’s a white woman. That’s all."

"Then how does she draw the magic pictures?"

"Those are some fine drawings," Noa said, turning his head to study the sketches. "Where did you say you got them?"