Aunt Maude watched as Amy and Eli worked the straw into place. Amy could feel the tension building. She pushed back on her heels. Father had the straw spread smooth, and the burlap feed bags were being stretched and nailed in place.
Aunt Maude spoke. “Only a bit better than a raw dirt floor. Biggest trial will be to keep them miners from spitting their tobacco on the burlap.” Amy settled down and looked toward her father. She heard his stifled sigh as their eyes met in a fleeting glance.
Amy caught her breath. Her father’s glance admitted that the gentle, quiet man also chafed under the caustic tongue of Aunt Maude.
Wistfully Amy watched her father. How long it’s been! Seems I nearly lost the belonging feeling. She studied her father’s face, looking for a deeper emotion, wondering. Has Aunt Maude always been like this? Those tight lips, the bitter lines on her face.
Slowly she said, “Aunt Maude, you don’t like being here, do you? I’m big enough now, I can cook and care for Father. Why don’t you go back to Kansas? You know how Uncle Jeffrey begged you to stay with him last spring, just before we left.”
Amy’s heart sank as she watched the lines on her aunt’s face fill with a stream of tears. “Oh, Aunt Maude,” she whispered. Scrambling to her feet, she placed a timid hand on the woman’s arm. “I didn’t mean to hurt you; it’s just that you’ve been so unhappy, and I wanted to make you feel better. You’ve been with us since before Mother died and that’s almost forever.”
The silence in the room was as heavy as lead. Amy stopped and looked from her weeping aunt to her father. He was still crawling about the floor, methodically hammering the spikes into the packed earth. Was his hand trembling as he lifted the hammer?
She knew she shouldn’t have referred to that terrible night. Even after all these years, the hazy memories fell over her like a gray curtain. She chewed at her lip and looked down at her hands. But she had said it. After all these years of pushing back the dark thoughts, she had said the word. She slanted a quick glance at the two of them. It had all been so long ago; perhaps they didn’t think she remembered.
Father’s shoulders moved awkwardly. Was he crying too? Amy shifted from one foot to the other as Maude dabbed at her eyes. “I—ah, I heard the wagon from Denver. Shall I go down to Joe’s place and get the beans and molasses you ordered?” At her father’s nod she scooped a shawl off the hook and tugged at the door.
The sky was sullen. As Amy lifted her face, she fancied she felt the touch of moisture against her skin. But the relief she felt made the threat of snow welcome.
Head down, she slowly walked the length of Central City, toward the shack they called Joe’s store. It didn’t need a sign; everyone knew Joe. Her restless eyes picked out the buildings and noted changes. Some of the shanties on the ridge above the main street were only half completed.
She passed a patched tent leaning into the mountain. Amy shivered and addressed the lowering sky, “At least we’ve four solid walls, even if the floor’s dirt. That poor fella doesn’t have time to build a house, ’cause he’s so busy washing gold out of the creek.”
Halfway to Joe’s place Amy stopped. The trip was all too short. Abruptly she turned and took the first trail branching off the road.
When she had climbed beyond the final line of log cabins, she paused to rest. Looking down over the town, her attention was caught by the signs of life in the camp. A slow drift of smoke came from one chimney. Wind moved the golden leaves on the quaking aspen trees. She watched a leaf fall. A dog barked. In a moment the dog dashed into view and circled back to his master.
Down the way a miner was fastening a pack to his mule. She guessed he was one of the many quitters. William Byers in his newspaper, Rocky Mountain News, called them the go-backs. Another miner, leading his mule, headed down the mountains. Most likely he would wait out the winter on the plains.
From the gulch, down Mountain City way, she heard the cries of a teamster and the crack of a whip. Usually that sound filled her with excitement, but today she answered the challenge with a melancholy smile.
Slowly she wandered, feeling the burden of loneliness, and reviewing all the tales she had been hearing about this wild, no-man’s land. Even worse than being without kin in this empty place was the frightening threat of Indians around every corner.
“Do I see the water lady?”
Amy turned as Daniel Gerrett approached. His smile was as lonely as she felt. “Not today,” she answered slowly, “I’m just out for a walk. How I wish there was something to do in this place beside walk the hills!”
He looked surprised at her outburst. After hesitating he dropped his pick and shovel and lowered himself to a large boulder. “There is. Let’s get acquainted. Tell me about yourself—why have you come here? Not many men brought their families here.”
“And why not? If the men can survive a mining camp, then why not their families? It’s lonely not having a friend my age.”
He lifted an eyebrow at her and said, “I see you haven’t made acquaintance with your neighbors or you’d know. These men have no intention of staying. They’re doctors, lawyers and such—educated men, come only to gather up all the gold they can before heading home.” He grinned as he added, “When the gold runs out, the Randolphs and others like them will be the only residents this end of Kansas Territory.”
“Good; then we can go home too.”
“Do you know that some of the people were expecting to rake up piles of gold? Don’t know how the story started, but it sure was stretched. That’s one reason many gave up that first season and went home.”
She looked up at him, wondering about him. “What about you? Do you have a family? Are you married?” He shook his head, his eyes twinkling, and for a moment she was embarrassed.
She added, “You’re like us.”
He frowned, then asked, “Mother died?”
She nodded, “Years ago. I was only a little thing. Barely remember any of it. It happened at camp meeting and conference.” She paused, admitting, “Most often it seems like a bad dream. Except for knowing there’s supposed to be mothers, I’d find it easy to think I’d never had one.”
She was busy poking her boot at the clod of mud when he spoke, and she was surprised at the emotion in his voice. “That’s sad. I wish I could somehow give you half of what I have to remember.”
After a pause he added, “It’s just Pa and me now. But we’re a good team.” He glanced at her and added, “I’m not too crazy about prospecting, but he is, so I go along.”
Amy could think of nothing to say, but the silence was comfortable as she watched dark shadows begin to cluster under the trees and bushes. Smoke began to puff from the cabins along the main road.
“I guess I should be a good missionary and invite you to services. Pretty soon we’ll have to start cramming into the cabin, but right now, on good days we meet under the trees.”
His voice sounded strained, but he said slowly, “I’d like that.”
She heard the mournful lowing of Joe’s milk cow, followed by the clink of a pail and the sharp bark of a dog. She sighed and tried to prod herself toward home.
“You’re going to freeze if you sit out here on the hillside much longer,” he said.
“October’s colder than I expected.”
“Snow comes early in the mountains. Down on Cherry Creek, I expect they just have rain.”
She studied his face. Plain and honest it seemed. He’s shy, she decided, liking the way his eyes met hers just as he ducked his head. Abruptly she asked, “If you aren’t sold on gold mining, what are you interested in?”
He shook his head, a closed-book expression settling down over his face. “What about you?”
“What I’d really like better’n anything else is to learn to play the piano.”
“Piano?” he said slowly. “Then you have one?”
She shook her head. “A preacher’s kid? No, of course not. Never could we afford one, and besides they don’t believe in things like that in church. Father’d never even considered having one. But the want is like a gnawing in my bones.”
“I remember you singing the day we met up on the mountain. You have a nice voice, even though I don’t know much about music.”
“Neither do I. But since I was little they’ve been having me lead out in church. It’s getting so I know most of the hymns, even the new ones Father says aren’t reverent. Back home they said I’m a natural with music.”
She sighed heavily and added, “That just makes me ache all the more. One of these days I’ll have a piano.” Reluctantly she added “I can’t see why—”
Abruptly she stopped. One of the shadows in the street below detached itself from a deeper shadow and moved quickly up the steep hill. It was Aunt Maude. She stopped in front of Daniel. “I know you! It was you the last time—walking her home. There’ll be no shenanigans, young man—now be off! Don’t you ever tarry around my niece again. I know the likes of you fellows, and I won’t tolerate your leading an innocent into sin. Be off!” She brandished her umbrella and reached for Amy’s arm.
“Ma’am!” Daniel leaped to his feet and snatched at his tattered cap.
“Say no more!” she ordered, turning her back and tugging at Amy’s arm.
At home, Amy faced her aunt across the table. She was surprised at the expression the flickering candle exposed. Timidly she said, “Aunt Maude, that young fellow was polite, and I—”
“No more, young lady!” Amy stared at the pursed lips and flushed face as her aunt muttered, “I knew it was a mistake to come here.”
The door began banging and groaning. Amy turned as her father came in. She saw the quick glance he gave Aunt Maude before he faced her. “Amy, it’s dark. Where have you been?” His voice was gentle, but she saw the white line around his mouth.
“Father, don’t fret. I’m a big girl now; it’s been years since I’ve been scared of the dark or lost my way home.” She tried to laugh, but her aunt’s voice cut in over hers.
“Eli, I told you it would be wrong, bringing a young innocent girl into such a place. And now the other element has moved into town.” She raised her palm ceilingward and cried, “Oh, Lord, what have we gotten into?”
“Maude, say no more.” He turned to pace the room and then return. “I’ve a letter from the bishop. He has expressed a desire for me to stay situated here during the winter season. Likely there’ll be little opportunity to minister to those in the settlements above Central City. I understand the snowfall in the mountains is significant. We can anticipate being snowed in sometimes, but—”
She interrupted, “Eli, what are you saying?”
“That you and Amy can move down into Auraria for the winter season. There’s a hut next door to the bishop.”
“That’s no safety for two women. He’ll be traveling about the territory. No thank you, Eli. If we leave, it will be for home.”
“Father,” Amy cried, “You can’t stay here alone! You need someone to take care of you.” She saw the relief on his face, and went to press her head against his shoulder.
Aunt Maude spoke reluctantly. “Eli, of course it’s my duty to stay with you as long as you need me. Now come, let’s have a bite of supper.”
Amy hesitated, feeling cheapened and depressed. No doubt that young Daniel Gerrett would never come around now. She sighed and went to wash her hands.