Just past noon on a hot July day Amy heard the blast. Holding a wet towel in her hands, she stood ready to pin it to the clothesline when her attention was caught by the deep rumble. Overhead the parched leaves quivered in the swoosh of air one moment before the rumble became a blast. It was from Eureka Gulch.
At the moment of the blast the noonday heat had left man and beast barely moving. Every sound seemed flattened and dull, and then it came.
She turned to look up the mountainside. Dust was hanging, marking the spot. Strange and fearful as it was, she reacted by moving her shoulders uneasily.
It was a big one. She shivered, thinking, Can’t live long in a mining camp before learning the difference between the big ones and the little ones.
The images were beginning to form in her mind as she admitted the worst. This one had started with a feeling born earth-deep.
Aunt Maude and Eli came spilling out of the cabin. Maude said, “Earthquake.” Father shook his head. There was a sick expression on his face, just as there had been when the explosion happened in Mountain City. He said, “Think I’ll wander down to the post office.”
He had only taken a step when the cry came. “It’s the Lucky Clover.”
She knew, but he said it. “It’s the Gerrett’s claim.”
Already there were men running up Eureka Gulch. Eli reached for her hand and she said, “No, I’d rather run.”
By the time she turned up the road toward the claim, the first of the returning men met her. “Ain’t no use, Missy. The mountain plumb rose and settled. There’s no reason to dig.”
“Both of them?”
He shook his head. “No, the young fella wasn’t even there. He passed me running up the hill.”
She kept on until she saw the wounded mountain and the tiny stream of smoke and dust. Men were standing around the broken timbers and tumble of rock. Amy stood uncertain, waiting, trembling.
Now the men were milling around, with the same aimlessness she felt down inside—she need not be told there was nothing to be done. She saw Daniel close to the broken tumble of rock, standing with his head drooping.
Amy climbed the slope behind the claim, found a rock in the shade and sat down before pressing her cold hands against her face. Father reached the top of the hill. She watched him walk through the crowd to Daniel’s side.
As the sun crossed the sky and the rock became hot, Amy moved to the shade. The men were breaking away in clusters and heading down the mountain. Father left. Amy shifted her attention from the slumped figure of her friend and looked at the cabin close to the creek.
Good water up here. Lots of it. She recalled some saying the biggest problem to be faced in the next few years would be to get enough water for the machinery. The Gerretts had the water.
The cabin was worthless. All their time had been spent on the mine. She remembered Daniel saying how his pa wanted to work a mine. But Daniel had admitted he worked the mine just because of his pa; it wasn’t important to him. She sighed.
He moved. She watched him kick at the shovel and pick lying on the ground. She knew she had to go down to him. He would be embarrassed if he knew she was watching.
Amy went down the slope, sliding in the gravel. He heard her coming. From his face she knew there wasn’t anything to do but wait.
“It’s cooling off a little,” she said. He nodded. Finally he pointed to the logs piled close. She knew they were fresh cut, intended for shoring up the tunnel once it was blasted clear.
When he sat down beside her, she knew from the way he rubbed his hands over his face that he was pushing away the numbness and would talk.
“I asked Pa to wait on the dynamite. He was rushing it. He had an offer, a good one if he could find color today. He couldn’t wait. I can’t imagine why he took the whole sack of dynamite in there with him. He’d sent me to town to get some more caps for it.”
It was nearly dark. Restlessly Amy went to sit on the rocks overlooking the gulch. He followed, saying, “I heard you singing at the boardinghouse. I wanted to ask you to sing that hymn for me some time. Seems I heard Ma once; it might have been the same one. Would you?”
Amy began, concentrating on the words, blocking out his face, and soon the words captured her and lifted, “…He owns me for His child; I can no longer fear. With confidence I now draw nigh….” When the hymn ended, he came to stand below the rock where she sat. His face reminded her of a lost child’s. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she put her arms around him and held his face against her shoulder. Child, man, friend, love.
No, not that! Amy’s spirit shrank away from the thought as she felt his tears on her shoulder.
When she finally walked down the mountain, alone, in the dark, she knew it was all over. There was nothing. Even that embryo emotion was gone, lost. She should never have hugged him so shamelessly. Amy trembled and stumbled in the night. What must he think of me?
As she reached her own door, she stared at its blankness. Today a door slammed in Daniel’s life. Her sore heart ached for him. Drooping with fatigue, she slumped to the threshold wondering what would happen to Daniel. All over, like a slammed door. For both of them.
Early the next day she heard the news at the store. It was from Joe. He took her money and handed over the pail of milk. “That Gerrett fella,” he said, without a flicker of emotion in his eyes. “Saw him packing out about sunup. Had one mule and a bundle. Didn’t look back.”
Amy walked slowly home. It didn’t seem possible to share the news. Memories caught up with her, and she blushed at the thought of that silly time when she had challenged the young miner to kiss her. Now, measured against the last dark expression she had seen on Daniel’s face, she found herself wishing she could wipe out the memory and replace it with something he could hang on to. Something good.
But there was nothing, not one good thing in all the times they had been together. And now, that last touch between them had ruined it all. While she had clung to him, feeling his warmth and aliveness, he had slipped away forever. Amy could feel only shame for her strange embrace.
When she reached her own door, she muttered, “Seems, Amy, you haven’t got the sense of a mule. You don’t deserve a friend like Daniel. Lizzie is more the kind of friend you deserve—all froth.” Amy frowned. Inside, her heart was crying, It wasn’t just a friend I wanted.
With her hand still on the latch, Amy shifted her thoughts, trying to give herself time to mask the pain that must be in her eyes.
She thought of Lizzie’s fingers tripping over the piano keys, playing the hymn like it was a familiar one, almost more so than the rollicking songs. Yet there had been a scowl on her face as she played. Why? The words slipped into her mind. Kindred souls. But Lizzie hadn’t revealed her secret, her deepest desire. She was no kindred spirit.
****
Daniel was in no hurry to reach Denver. Taking the torturous road winding steeply down Golden Gate Canyon to the settlement called Arapahoe, he let the mule pick her way. She stopped at every succulent weed, giving him plenty of time to think. By the end of the day, Daniel was certain he wanted to be done with mining forever.
He fingered the coins in his pocket and thought of Indiana. It had been home. Once there had been a farm and a mother as well as a brother and sister.
After some more thinking, Daniel sighed and muttered, “Can’t complain against the Almighty for taking off Ma and the little ones. Nearly every family in the valley lost at least one. Pa made a bad mistake. That’s all there is to it. If—”
He sighed and tightened the reins on the wandering mule. For just a moment, his lips twisted in a grin as he looked at the mule’s seedy gray mane. What would Aunt Maude think of having a mule named after her? His lips twisted. “Maude, that’s enough.” He tugged the reins, and the mule turned her head and bared her teeth. “You’ll make yourself sick if you eat any more. And don’t glare at me like that; I’m no more afraid of you than I am of the lady you were named after.” The mule continued to eye him with a disapproving stare.
“Matter of fact, I’m much more afraid of Aunt Maude.” He recalled Amy’s sweet face, her trusting blue eyes, and lingered over the memory of her arms, her embrace. He flicked the reins, sighing heavily.
Staring at the mule he muttered, “I wouldn’t trade that hug for all the gold in Pikes Peak country, but with Aunt Maude in Central City, I best hightail out of there before I cause any more trouble.”
That night Daniel camped beside a stream, breaking out of the rocks at the head of the canyon. As he made camp and went after water, he found his fingers fumbling through the gravel. “Habit dies hard,” he murmured, studying the swirl of mud and water. There was a brightness in the clearing water and without enthusiasm he scooped up a handful of stones and fished out the small bright nugget. He bit it, and the soft, heavy metal gave beneath his teeth. “Gold. Too bad Pa isn’t here; he’d get a kick out of it.” He tossed the nugget from hand to hand before slipping it into his pocket. “Buy a couple of loaves of bread.”
A twig snapped behind Daniel. Without rising, he rotated on his heels and reached for a large stone. A man strode into the clearing—a white man. Daniel sighed with relief as he got to his feet.
“Saw the fire,” the man was speaking as he approached. “I have some bacon and coffee; mind if I share with you? The name’s Bill Kelly.”
“I’ve heard that name,” Daniel said slowly, “but I don’t recollect anything else.”
“Methodist missionary. I’m headed into Denver City to meet with some churchmen. You going that way?”
Daniel nodded. “I’m down from Eureka Gulch. Had a mine up that way.”
“So you’re mining. Central City?”
He shook his head. “Not anymore. Sold out my claim for fifty dollars.” Kelly gave him a shrewd glance but said nothing as he kicked a log close to the fire and sat down. Daniel took a deep breath. “Lost my father in the mine. Dynamite.”
“I’m sorry.” The man’s voice was deep and musical. “When did this happen?”
“Yesterday.” Daniel slanted a glance at him. The man’s hands were hanging limp between his knees and Daniel knew he was waiting. He blurted out the words, “I know it happens all the time, but why does it happen when things are rolling along smooth? I guess it’s just that you never expect something like this until it hits you. I—”
He paused and looked into the man’s face. “Go ahead, son,” he said gently.
The next day the pair walked into Denver City leading the mule. Kelly pointed out a little log cabin beside Cherry Creek. “That’s where I’m headed. Need to have a talk with the presiding elder. There’re plans in the making for a big quarterly meeting at Mountain City.”
“What is that?”
“The Methodist Episcopal Church has been organized in the area. Little and as struggling as we are, there’re big plans afoot. You might as well come and get in on them.”
“I know the preacher in Central City; know his daughter too.”
A grin tugged at Kelly’s lips as he glanced at the mule. “And Randolph’s sister? That where the mule got her name?” Daniel felt his face flushing as he nodded.
Kelly said, “Better be careful about mentioning that name if you want to get better acquainted with Eli’s daughter.” He paused before adding, “Understand those two are mighty protective of the little girl.”
“So protective I didn’t dare show myself at church,” Daniel answered bitterly.
“Well, come along. You’ll be welcome in Denver City. There’s a hotel on this side of the creek, but I have an idea you can drop your bedroll in the barn behind the Fishers’ house if you want.”
Later Daniel placed his belongings under the cottonwood tree beside the barn and went to sit on the edge of the crowd clustered just inside Fishers’ open door.
Bill Kelly moved down on the crude bench. He was leaning forward, giving the unseen speaker all of his attention.
The man’s voice was low and intense. “Brethren, this is God’s harvest field. Never have I seen the need so great. The perils of the mining camp, the unexpected savage, the liquor, and the gambler are waiting to snatch the souls of the unsuspecting, unregenerate miner.
“These men have flung aside all restraint of hearth and home. Gold has become their god and liquor their comfort. The Master calls you; will you obey? Just as the apostles were called to leave comfort and safety, you must be willing to place your all on the altar for the sake of the unsaved. Rescue the perishing, snatching them from the fire.”
When the man finished speaking, the congregation went outside. Daniel awkwardly joined them. The last one through the door was a woman carrying a pan of cornbread. She followed the speaker, who deposited a kettle of steaming stew on the crude bench under the tree.
Kelly had Daniel by the arm, steering him toward the couple. “Bishop, I found a friend on the byways. This here is Daniel Gerrett.”
The group around the bench parted and a bowl was shoved into Daniel’s hands. When he had finished eating, Daniel followed Kelly toward another cluster of men; as they walked he explained, “This gentleman’s a salesman. Comes out into the territories once a year with his goods and we all take the opportunity to stock up.”
The man was spreading his ware. “Books!” Daniel exclaimed in surprise. “Well, it sounds like a fine idea, but I don’t have money for books.”
“Most of us will be laying in stock to sell when we go into the mining camps.” Kelly bent over and fingered the tracts and pamphlets. “Bart, how much are the Bibles going for this year?”
“I’ve a fine leather one for three dollars.”
The man behind Daniel groaned. “Could be a million for all I care. I can’t afford it, and a miner wouldn’t buy it.”
The salesman retorted, “Why don’t you fellows dig a little gold before you come to quarterly meeting? A small nugget would buy the finest of the lot.”
“I’d like to see you take a nugget for a Bible,” shot back the man at Daniel’s elbow.
Daniel’s hand was already in his pocket. He was fingering the nugget, chuckling at the idea. Not that he had any need for a Bible.
He pulled out the nugget and balanced it on the tip of his finger. Abruptly he remembered his father’s face the first time he’d found color in his pan of washings. Daniel winced and thrust the nugget toward the salesmen. “Well, here it is.”
He watched the salesman bite into the gold before nodding. Handing the Bible to Daniel, he said, “Got yourself a deal.”
The fellow behind Daniel laughed, “Up Russell Gulch, that much gold would have bought you a claim.”
Daniel looked down at the dark leather cover and felt a pang of dismay. Squinting at the circle of men around him, he said, “I don’t want a claim, but I feel like I’m letting myself in for something I might not want.”
In the silence, a deep, serious voice said, “You could stick it in your pack and forget all about it. That’s what a lot of fellows do.”
Looking at the circle of watchful eyes, he remembered Amy had told him to read the Bible. Daniel cleared his throat. “I’ll see.” He spotted the man who had been speaking and said, “You talk like it’s mighty important to sit up and take notice before a body dies and goes off to meet his Maker. Suppose I’ll find out why from reading this?” The speaker nodded, and Daniel took a deep breath, his first easy breath in a long time.