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Zachariah reached out a hand and ruffled Frisco’s hair, earning him no better than a frown. “I don’t suppose he sent anything home for his brothers.”
“Not a thing,” Sutter said with a sigh. “And now we have to leave.”
“Leave?” Zachariah turned to Callie. Both of the miners watched her as if she was about to confess she’d been voted president. “Where are you going? North to pan?”
In winter? Oh, but they had the fever bad. “No. We’re going to live with a friend at Wallin Landing. It will be better than this.”
Sutter smashed the pumpkin on his tin plate with a wooden spoon. “Most anything would be better than this.”
Callie couldn’t argue. Adam had been a terrible homesteader. He’d bought them a goat for milk, but the ornery thing had run off weeks ago. Foxes had carried off the chickens. He’d never managed enough money for a horse and plow, so the most they’d been able to grow came from Anna’s vegetable patch behind the house. Callie was just thankful the woods teemed with game and wild fruits and vegetables. But even that bounty was growing scarce as winter approached.
Frisco scooted closer to the table, glanced between the two men. “Sutter and me could come north with you, when you head back.”
Sutter nodded. “We got pans.”
Heat rushed up her. Callie slammed her hands down on the table. “No! No panning, no sluicing. Finish up and head for bed. We have a long way to go in the morning.”
The prospectors had shoveled in the food as if they suspected she was going to snatch it away, then slipped out the back door. And Callie had spent the next hour or so packing up her family’s things, such as they were.
She’d hardly slept that night, but more to make sure her brothers didn’t run off with Zachariah and Willard than with concern over the change she was making. She was glad to see the men gone in the morning, the only sign the holes in the ground where they’d driven their tent pegs. Wearing her brother’s old flannel shirt and trousers, belted around her waist to keep them close, suspenders over her shoulder to keep them up, she’d barely finished feeding Mica mashed pumpkin when Sutter dashed in the door.
“He’s coming!”
Callie’s stomach dipped and rose back up again. So much for not being nervous. Gathering Mica close as she shoved her father’s hat on top of her hair, she followed her brother out onto the slab of rock that served as a front step.
Though he was still dressed in those rough clothes she found hard to credit to a preacher, Levi Wallin had brought two horses with him this time. They were both big and strong, coats a shiny black in the pale sunlight. They were hitched to a long farm wagon with an open bed, the kind Adam had always wanted to buy. Frisco was trotting alongside as if to guide them.
It only took two trips to load their things. Adam had left with his pack, most of the panning supplies and some of the dishes, but she still had her father’s pack and the one Ma had used plus Mica’s wagon. Their belongings fit inside Levi’s wagon with room to spare. She had Sutter bring the quilts their mother had sewn and pile them in a corner of the wagon next to the bench. Pulling on her coat, she glanced around one more time.
This was supposed to be home. Maybe one day she could come back. Maybe no one would want a claim so far out. Maybe she could file for it herself in six months.
Maybe she better leave before tears fell.
Her brothers were already snuggled in the quilts when she came out with Mica in one arm and her rifle in the other. The preacher approached her, and she offered him the baby so she could climb up.
He hesitated, then took the little girl from Callie’s grip. He held her out, feet dangling, as if concerned she might spit on his clothes. Mica bubbled a giggle and wiggled happily.
Callie sighed. “Here, like this.” She lay the rifle on the bench, then repositioned Levi’s arms to better support the baby. Some muscles there—hard and firm. Touching them made her fingers warm. She took a step away from him.
As Mica gazed up at him, the preacher reared back his head, neck stretching, as if distancing himself from the smiling baby in his arms.
“She won’t bite,” Callie told him.
“Yet,” Frisco predicted.
The preacher’s usually charming smile was strained. “It’s been a long time since I held a baby. I was the youngest in my family, and I moved away when my brothers’ oldest children were about this age.”
So that was the problem. Callie patted his arm and offered him a smile. “You’ll do fine. Just hang on to her until I climb up and stow the rifle, then hand her to me.”
That went smoothly enough, until Levi climbed up onto the bench, reins in one fist. His trousers brushed hers as he settled on the narrow seat, and his sleeve rubbed along her arm as he shook the reins and called to the horses. The wagon turned with the team, bringing her and Levi shoulder to shoulder. Each touch sent a tremor through her.
No, no, no. She’d spent the last five years avoiding such contact with men. She’d all but decided she would never marry. She certainly didn’t want to get all fluttery over a minister of all people, someone who would only judge her and find her wanting. And how did she know he wouldn’t go tearing off to the gold fields one day like every other man she’d ever known? She’d had quite enough of that for one lifetime.
Not even Levi Wallin’s charming smile could convince her otherwise.
* * *
What was wrong with him? Every flick of the reins, every bump of the wagon made him more aware of Callie Murphy sitting beside him. He’d thought his change of heart and his religious studies had helped him become a new man. But had he just traded gold fever for petticoat fever?
He remembered what it had been like when Asa Mercer had brought women from the East Coast to the lonely bachelors in Seattle. His brothers Drew, Simon and James owed their wives to Mercer’s efforts. Even now, seven years later, men still far outnumbered the women in Seattle. That was one of the reasons his sister Beth had written for a mail-order bride for their brother John.
But Levi had no intention of taking a bride. Not for a long while, if ever. His time on the gold fields had shown him the kind of man he was deep down. No wife deserved a husband like that. He had started to rebuild his life, but he had a long way to go.
His brothers didn’t understand. They had all been so pleased, and not a little surprised, to find that their little brother had become a minister. They remembered the scrapes he’d gotten into as a youth—stealing Ma’s blackberry pie off the window ledge where it had been set to cool and claiming a bear had lumbered by. Trying to show his oldest brother Drew he was strong enough to master an ax and bringing down a tree so close to the house it shaved off a corner of the back porch. Attempting to prove himself a man by gambling himself into a debt so deep his entire family had had to chip in to raise him out of it.
The last thoughtless act still made him shudder. He’d worked on Drew’s logging crew for months to pay everyone back. And then he and Scout had heard about the gold strike in the British Territories and run off to make their fortunes.
“You’ll see,” Levi had promised his friend. “We’ll come home rich. They’ll have to respect us.”
Respect had seemed all important then. He was the youngest of his family, Scout the only son of a father who couldn’t have cared less. They had wanted something to call their own, a way to make people look at them with pride. Filling their pockets with gold had sounded easy.
Their adventures had not only failed to find them gold but lost Levi his respect for himself. And no one except Scout, Thaddeus and God knew how far Levi had fallen. It would be a long time before he felt himself worthy of respect again.
The best he could do now was help the Murphy family. He glanced at Callie sitting beside him. She wore a slouch hat that hid her hair and shadowed her face as she gazed down at the baby in her arms. The movement of the wagon must have lulled little Mica to sleep, for thick black lashes swept across her pearly cheeks.
He couldn’t forget the feel of the child in his arms—so tiny, so fragile. Her big blue eyes had gazed at him so trustingly. She was too young to know the things he’d seen, the things he’d done.
Thank You, Lord, for this opportunity to make amends and help a friend.
Peace brushed him like the wings of a dove, reminding him of why he had started down this path. God had never abandoned him, no matter how far Levi had run. He’d been waiting with open arms for Levi to come home. It was a blessing to return the favor with the Murphys.
“How far do we got to go?” one of her brothers asked behind him. The belligerent tone likely belonged to Frisco.
“Will it take much longer?” Sutter whined.
Levi smiled. He’d been the same way once, eager for things to start now. “Have you ridden to Seattle before?”
“’Course we have,” Frisco said, tone now aggrieved.
“Well, it’s that much again to Wallin Landing,” Levi told him.
He glanced back in time to see Frisco slide deeper into the pile of quilts. “That could be hours.”
“Days,” Sutter moaned.
“Maybe we could stop in Seattle,” Callie suggested. “Stretch our legs.”
“Get a sarsaparilla,” Levi offered.
Sutter perked up. Frisco pushed himself closer to the bench. “You got money, preacher?”
Callie scowled at her brother. “I got money, the last of what Adam sent us a few months ago. There’s no call to bother the preacher.”
“It’s no problem,” Levi assured her. “I said I’d provide for you all.”
Frisco leaned up between them, arms braced on the back of the bench. “That’s real nice of you, preacher. And maybe we could get something to eat at one of them fancy hotels.”
“San Francisco Murphy,” Callie said, her voice a low rumble, like a thunderstorm heading their way.
Her brother’s eyes widened, and he ducked back into the wagon bed. “It was just an idea. A fellow can’t live on pumpkin and pinecones.”
“I never fed you pinecones,” Callie complained. “But maybe I should.” She shot Levi a glance. Behind that stern look, he thought he saw a twinkle in her blue-gray eyes. “You got pinecones up your way, preacher?”
“Plenty of them,” Levi assured her. “My brother chops down a lot of trees. I’m sure he could find a few cones, maybe some sawdust.”
“There you go,” Callie said, facing front. “Everything a growing boy needs.”
“You’re no fun,” Frisco grumbled.
“I’d eat pinecones,” Sutter told him. “If I had to.”
“Would not!”
“Would, too!”
Before Levi could move, the two were rolling around in the bed of the wagon, pushing and pummeling each other. With a jolt, he realized their movements were shoving the packs toward the rear of the open wagon.
Callie must have seen the problem as well. “That’s enough!” she cried. “You’ll cost us our things.”
Neither brother paid her the least heed. Face turning red, she reached back a hand, but, holding the baby, she couldn’t seem to catch hold of either boy.
“Hang on,” Levi told her.
She cast him a glance, then resolutely grabbed the side of the bench.
Levi slapped down on the reins, and the horses lunged forward. The movement sent both boys flying into the quilts. Levi reined in, allowing the horses to draw the wagon to the side of the road and stop. Then he turned and gazed down at two scowling faces. Somehow, he thought he’d looked at Drew with just that amount of defiance when his older brother had taken over leadership of the family after Pa had died.
“You wanted to get to Seattle as fast as possible,” he reminded them. “Every time you act up, I’m stopping this wagon. I’ve slept out under the stars before, in colder weather than this. If you want to take a week to go five miles, I’m your man.”
They didn’t so much as exchange glances this time.
“No,” they chorused.
“Good,” Levi said. “Then pull those packs up closer to the bench and get comfortable.”
The two scurried to comply.
“By the way,” Levi continued with a wink to Callie, “I hear there are bandits in these parts. Keep your eyes peeled, and sing out if you spot one.”
The twins’ heads jerked up, and they nodded eagerly.
As soon as they’d settled themselves back among the quilts, Levi faced front and called to the horses.
“Bandits,” Callie said, skepticism in her voice. Even Mica, who must have been awakened by the sudden movements, was frowning at him.
Levi shrugged. “My brother and his wife were set upon out this way.”
Callie’s eyes widened.
He felt a tug of guilt and leaned closer, speaking low for her ears alone. “Eight years ago. I haven’t heard of any trouble recently.”
“Are those bandits?” Sutter called.
A chill ran up him. They were rolling around a bend, so Levi could easily spare a look back. Callie turned as well, shoulder brushing his. Two riders were coming along the road. The pair was far enough behind that Levi couldn’t make out their faces under their broad-brimmed hats. He forced himself to focus on guiding the horses around the curve.
“Do you know them?” Callie murmured beside him.
“I don’t think so,” Levi told her. “You?”
Her cheeks were pale. “We had visitors last night. Might be them. Horses look right.”
“There’s another bend coming up,” Levi said. “We’ll check then.”
As the horses trotted around the curve, Levi and Callie turned once more. She was so close he could feel the warmth of her.
The way behind lay empty.
Callie met his gaze. “Where did they go? I didn’t see any tracks leading off this one.”
Neither had he. Were they waiting around the last bend, making sure he didn’t get another look at them? Why the secrecy? What were they trying to hide?
And what had drawn them out this way?
Chapter Four (#u52076679-b701-5138-ae23-b95a263f4e2e)
Callie kept her head high as they rolled into Seattle. She’d been a little concerned about the men Sutter had spotted on the road, but the pair had never caught up with them. Obviously bored, Frisco and Sutter had curled themselves in Ma’s quilts.
They perked up as Levi guided the horses down Second Avenue. Callie wished she could be as excited. New buildings crowded either side of the wide, muddy street, signs overhead showing pictures of boots, hats and a mortar and pestle. Men in a variety of garb, from fine wool coats and high-crowned hats to rough trousers and tweed caps, moved among the shops, boots clomping on the boardwalk. The few ladies among them walked with bonnets covering their hair and cloaks covering their swaying skirts. Callie’s hand went to finger her lank locks spilling out below her hat. It had been too cold the last few weeks to take a bath and wash her hair, even if she’d felt it fair to ask her brothers to lug enough water from the creek.
Many of the people were glancing their way with curious looks. She could almost hear their whispers.
There go those wild Murphy brats.
Someone ought to teach them better.
They shouldn’t be allowed near civilized folk.
“We gonna get that sarsaparilla, preacher?” Frisco asked, leaning over the edge of the wagon as if ready to dive into the mud of the street to escape.
