It was dark when Amy and Daniel reached Buckskin Joe. When the carriage slowed and turned, bumping up the rocky road toward Buckskin, Amy yawned and tried to push away the dreamy state of near sleep in which she had been submerged for the past hour.
She had been rearranging life into a pleasant scene where Daniel loved her passionately, and Silverheels wasn’t her mother. In this dream Silverheels admitted to having stolen the picture and fabricated the whole story in order to discredit them and bring shame upon them all. It had ended with Amy and Daniel rapidly riding eastward to Ohio, just as quickly as their steeds could pull their new carriage.
She sat up and leaned forward. Buckskin didn’t seem to have changed, at least in the dark. There were lights in the Tabors’ boardinghouse, and the Grand Hotel fairly blazed with light. Daniel urged the horses on and quickly they headed up the incline to Father Dyer’s cabin.
He was at home. Still bemused by her dream, Amy was momentarily disappointed. Father Dyer met them at the door, saying, “I heard the carriage and team. Wondered what glorious company I was having. Been a while since royalty’s visited.”
“Well, royalty’s planning on staying a spell. I’ll explain as soon as I bed down these fillies.”
Amy followed Father Dyer into the cabin. Hands on her hips, he studied her and asked, “Still not sleeping together, huh?”
“How—how do you know?”
“There’s two bedrolls here.” Shaking his head, he went to the stove to stir the pot of beans. “Can’t understand the likes of the younger generation. I’ll get down some more plates.”
Amy stood motionless in the middle of the cabin and reality crashed in. She looked about the dim smoky room, poorly furnished with handcrafted stools and a rickety table. There was one sagging bunk in the corner. Only a few planed boards kept the cabin from being totally floorless.
She also noticed all Father Dyer’s clothes hung on three pegs, while the portable organ leaned against one wall, looking as if mice had been chewing on the straps.
This was reality; this was life for an elder in the Methodist Episcopal Church in Colorado Territory. It was the life Daniel wanted more than he wanted her.
Amy shivered and pulled her shawl tight. But there was more. Tomorrow she would have Silverheels to confront.
She sighed and turned to look at Father Dyer. His square, stocky figure embodied his no-nonsense, uncompromising attitude toward life. Without a doubt, even yet tonight, explanations must be made to him.
With an impatient movement, Father Dyer turned and shoved the chipped plates toward her. Feeling as if her feet were wooden, she tried to move in his direction. He was watching and she saw in his eyes an unexpected sympathy. Blinking, Amy turned away.
Daniel came into the cabin. He gave them both a quick glance as he walked to the stove to warm his hands.
Much as she tried to relax, Amy moved like a wooden doll, placing the forks and knives on the table before she reached for the coffee mugs. “Once the sun sets, you remember it’s only February,” Daniel muttered.
Father Dyer set the plate of bacon on the table and handed the knife and bread to Amy. He said, “What brings you two here?”
Amy looked at Daniel, and he said, “Let’s wait a bit; don’t want to ruin supper.” Father Dyer’s eyebrows showed his surprise, but he sat down and bowed his head.
When Amy made the second trip for the coffeepot, Daniel shoved his plate aside and looking at her asked, “Do I do the talking, or will you?”
Amy sighed and sat down. “Guess I can start. Father Dyer, the reason I left here was because Silverheels ran me out of town. Threatened to do me harm.”
He looked startled. He opened his mouth to speak, and Amy blurted out, “She’s my mother. I found my picture in the pocket of the cloak she had given me to wear the night Lizzie died, so I guess there’s no doubt.”
Just saying the words, seeing the strange expression on his face, set Amy’s hands to trembling as she lifted the mug. She added, “It was like having someone come back from the dead, for a few minutes at least, but that didn’t last long. She turned on me, told me to get out, saying I’d ruin her life if it was known she had a grown daughter. It was terrible.”
“So why are you both back here?”
Daniel answered, “First, we’re both uneasy about her. Read the newspaper stories about the epidemic here. Later I picked up information in Denver City, indicating that she’d been ill with the smallpox and then disappeared.”
Father Dyer nodded his head. “That’s what I’d heard. But I doubt there’s a person around who can give you information about her. As far as I’ve been able to discover, all the girls have gone, flown the coop. I don’t have much information to offer you because I was out of town when the disease flared up. They stuck a quarantine on Buckskin Joe. So I didn’t get back in until later.”
He sipped his coffee and added, “You said first. What’s the next reason?”
Daniel waited for her to answer. Amy stared at the splintery table as she said, “We didn’t part friendly. Fact is, I’m ashamed of myself. Need to apologize.”
Daniel took a deep breath and leaned forward, “There’s good news too—the best.” When Amy heard the thread of excitement in Daniel’s voice, she lifted her head. In the shadowy room she couldn’t see his eyes, but as he continued, she found tears coming to her eyes. “It’s Amy. This morning she prayed, asking the Lord Jesus Christ to be her Savior. I just can’t think of anything better.”
Suddenly shy, Amy pushed her mug around, glancing quickly from one to the other. Father Dyer’s face was a study of questions, but Daniel continued to smile at her. She grinned, feeling her own spirit respond joyously.
Later she washed and dried the dishes while John Dyer talked. “Wasn’t long after you left that the smallpox started up. As soon as the doctor came and the folks got wind of it, they started evacuating people. They told me all this later.”
Daniel restlessly paced the room. “Many died?”
“Yes. I don’t know the number. Mostly it was the single men. They’re kinda hard to keep count of.” In a moment he added, “Sure filled up the cemetery. Felt bad about not being here, but they were being pretty strict about keeping people out, except for the nurses coming in from Denver City. Didn’t want it to spread across the whole territory.”
“When we passed I noticed the Tabors’ house was lighted,” Amy said.
Father Dyer nodded. “But you can believe H.A.W. had his family out of here in a hurry.” Abruptly he lifted his head and said, “What about Silverheels? What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know,” Daniel said slowly. “I suppose we’ll go up to the boardinghouse and make inquiries.”
“It’s closed. Far as I know there’s not a soul around there.”
“What about going to the Tabors’ first?” Amy asked. “Augusta has probably heard something.”
John Dyer stood up suddenly and stretched. “Well—nighty, night, children. This old man gets up early. Going to Mosquito Gulch tomorrow.” He headed for his bunk.
Amy and Daniel unrolled their blankets on the planks close to the stove. John had banked the fire and the warmth was pleasant against Amy’s face as she tunneled into the blankets and turned to drop her shoes carefully on the floor.
Daniel murmured, “Guess you’ll have to put up with my quoting Scripture. Nights when there’s no light I talk myself to sleep by saying all the Scripture I can remember. This one is for you. ‘That ye would walk worthy of God, who hath called you unto his kingdom and glory. For this cause also we thank God without ceasing, because when ye received the word of God which ye heard of us, ye received it not as the word of men, but as it is in truth the word of God, which effectually worketh also in you that believe.’ Then there’s one we both need to remember when we see Silverheels. ‘But the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned,’ and ‘That he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man…. Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think …”
Amy turned on her side to listen to Daniel. When he finished, she said, “Daniel you are reminding me that I have an obligation to act like a Christian now, and a responsibility to treat the Bible different—it is God speaking. I will, I really intend to do so, but I’m scared.”
He raised himself on one elbow and looked down at her. “Amy, I believe you. You’ve taken a vow to live out your life for God, and that is not to be taken lightly. Also, we need to remember that Silverheels cannot be expected to act any differently than she has in the past.”
“You say Silverheels, not Mother,” Amy said slowly. “Is it because you can’t imagine her as my mother?”
“Possibly.”
“It would be nice to have all this just disappear,” Amy said slowly, feeling guilty and miserable even as she admitted it.
“But it won’t. Amy, could we pray together about it?”
Daniel reached across the mound of blankets and took her hand. “Lord, the burden of Silverheels lies between us. Please guide us to her and use us in her life. We can ask for nothing better than your will for her.”
When Daniel turned away to sleep, Amy watched the faint cherry glow of the stove and wondered about her response to it all. It seemed his prayer had lifted Amy to a new position. One in which she realized she sided with him, not against. It left her feeling as if she had been drawn into an inner circle, of knowing Daniel in a new way.
She turned her head to look at him, conscious of a lonely wish to reach out and touch him; but at the same time, she felt constrained.
As she mulled over their separation, she felt the difference. Was it possible to be held at a point where spirit communion could grow to a new dimension, with a clamor that blocked out all other need? He had used the word “friends.” But as she continued to think about it, she sighed. It wasn’t enough; there must be more to life than linked hands.
In the morning Father Dyer looked at her rumpled frock and tumbled hair. With amusement he said, “I suppose we can take a walk until you manage a miracle with your comb and a bar of soap.” Turning to Daniel, he added, “Let’s go salute the dawn, and then I must be on my way.”
Fresh clothing and breakfast righted Amy’s world and by midmorning she and Daniel were on their way into town.
“Let’s stop at the store; most likely H.A.W. will be there.”
But before they reached the store, Amy and Daniel passed the squatty log cabin that served as the courthouse. Amy said, “Did you know this place was Buckskin Joe’s house?”
Daniel said, “I didn’t know there was such a person.”
Amy nodded. “He not only found gold here, but owned part of the Phillips claim. I hear he sold out for a little bit of nothing and left the country. At least he had a town named after himself.”
Daniel said, “Let’s go there first. I know the clerk who is recorder of deeds.”
Amy nodded. “He came often to the Grand Hotel while I played the piano there. Mick Sawyer is his name.” She followed Daniel into the building. Mick got up from his desk and came to the counter.
Amy couldn’t control her gasp. As Daniel shook hands with the man, Mick said, “Might as well say it. Most of us look like this, the ones that survived.”
“The scars are bad now,” Daniel admitted, his distress showing in his eyes. “I’m sure time will help. Meanwhile—”
“Most of us are just glad to be alive,” Mick said. Now, with a twisted smile, he added, “I suppose you preachers are saying it’s the mighty vengeance of the Lord on us for not heeding revival.”
“Might be better to say it’s the work of the Adversary. He’s been known to do such things every since he first got Eve to listen to him.” He paused and added, “You’re not going to tell me none of the good Christian folk had the pox, are you?”
Mick grinned at Daniel and said, “Well, what can I do for you?”
“Have any idea what has happened to Silverheels? We’d settle for information about any of the girls who lived over there.”
Mick shook his head. “Most of them scattered like autumn leaves soon as they heard about the pox. Not surprising when you consider their faces are their business.” He paused. “Silverheels? That’s one genuine lady. Stuck with us to help out in a bad time. Most of the folk can’t say enough good about her. But we don’t know where she is now. Some say she’s left the territory. Most of us think otherwise. Maybe you should talk to the Tabors.”
Daniel and Amy continued on down the street. It was nearly noon and there was a scattering of people on the street. But Amy noticed the difference, not only in the people but in the very atmosphere.
The rollicking gaiety of the town was gone. The dancing schools were silent, with gaping lifeless windows. Only one saloon had open doors, and the sober murmur of voices coming through the door seemed strange.
Continuing down the street, Daniel and Amy noticed the faces of passers-by. Few were unmarked. Amy could see many people walked with effort; their faces were white and sad.
At the store they found H.A.W. behind the counter. His shop once signaled the prosperity of the town; now there was a look of neglect. The shelves were nearly empty and dust covered the line of tinned fruit and vegetables. He apologized. “We’re still trying to get things back in swing. Augusta and the boy are staying in Denver City for a while. That’s one reason we just can’t get a handle on life. I sure need that woman here.”
He listened to their request and slowly said, “So Mick sent you to me. No one wants to be thought the strange one, and that’s what the giver of this story will be called.”
He paused, seeming to consider his answer. Finally he took a deep breath and said. “I’m sure I know every cabin and shanty in the area, so it’s almost a fact that she’s not living around here. But there’s something strange going on.
“Come night, some say they see a woman dressed in black and heavily veiled. Most often it’s by the light of the full moon when they see her. Seems she walks among the new graves, weeping. Now, don’t you two go outta here saying H.A.W. Tabor is losing what little wits he had. ’Cause if you say I told you this story, I’ll deny it.”
Silently Amy and Daniel retraced their steps to Father Dyer’s cabin. Halfway there, Daniel stopped suddenly. “I’m just not satisfied. Amy, let’s go over to the boardinghouse and look around. There ought to be something or someone around.”