A Claim of Her Own (38 page)

The freighters crept out of their shelter to check the other corral and see how the oxen had fared. Swede praised God again when Red Tallent returned and reported, “They’re fine.” He scratched his chin. “But we ain’t going anywhere until some of it melts. Some of us walked up ahead a mile or two, and the drifts are just too deep. It’s just as well,” he added. “We’d all be snow-blind by evening if we tried.” He smiled at Eva and chucked her under the chin. “What d’ya think, little one, can you handle another day or two camping with old Red?”

Eva giggled. Swede sighed. So much to be thankful for, and yet, it was going to be awkward when she finally pulled into Deadwood and had to face Tom. What was it they said when a person had to admit they had been wrong? Eating . . . something. A bird. Yes. She would have to “eat crow” the next time she saw Tom English.

It was the closest Aron Gallagher had ever come to thinking he was actually hearing God’s voice. The notion kept repeating in his mind, over and over and over again, that he should pray for Mattie. He’d been praying
about
her for quite some time now, but this was different. This wasn’t about his attraction to her. This was . . . just different. Such a strong inner pull that he’d literally turned around in his saddle and looked back over his shoulder toward Deadwood. Apparently more than once, for Tom suddenly asked what was wrong and did he think they were being followed.

“No,” Aron said. “It’s not that. It’s just—” He couldn’t explain it, because he didn’t understand it.

Pray for Mattie. Pray for Mattie NOW.
And then . . .
Pray for
Freddie. Pray for Freddie NOW. Pray . . . pray . . . pray.

Aron prayed.

Back in her kitchen in Deadwood, Aunt Lou had just leaned over the soup pot to taste the stew she was serving for supper when she thought of Mattie.

“That child,” she said aloud. “Needs the Lord so bad . . . likes that preacher so much . . . and jus’ can’t see her way to either one.”

Pray for Mattie. Pray for Mattie NOW.

Aunt Lou frowned. She put more salt in the stew and then crossed the kitchen and went to stand out on the back stoop. She gazed toward the rim of the rocky wall that rose behind the hotel. She thought about Mattie’s claim. But Mattie was watching the store again. She’d be over for supper any moment, and maybe Freddie would join them tonight. Maybe he’d bring them some nice fat rabbits from his hunting expedition the last couple of days.

Pray for Freddie. Pray for Freddie NOW.

Aunt Lou shivered. She stepped back inside. And she prayed.

Something’s not right at Mattie’s claim,
Freddie thought. There was smoke coming out of the stovepipe, but Mattie was down in town minding the store again while Tom and Aron took supplies to Mor and the freighters. She wasn’t coming back up here until tomorrow. That’s what she’d said. “
I’ll head up there on Monday just to check
things over, but if the snow hasn’t started to melt, I won’t stay.”

Freddie didn’t know why she even had to go up there at all. Winter was here. Probably she had to get more gold down to where she could keep an eye on it. There was something funny about Mattie and her gold. She didn’t talk about it very much. Freddie believed that probably meant she had a lot of it. People around here were that way sometimes. They didn’t talk about it in case someone might steal it. Which was smart, but in Mattie’s case Freddie just wished she would put it in the bank.

Once he almost sneaked into her tent when she was at Aunt Lou’s just to see if he was right. But his conscience bothered him and he knew that was God saying he shouldn’t do it. So he didn’t. But still, he knew there was something funny about Mattie and her gold. And now there was something funny going on at her claim tent. But she said she wasn’t coming up here until Monday. He’d better check things out.

Freddie adjusted his string of rabbits and squatted down, thinking. For a long time he studied the footprints leading from the McKays’ claim up to Mattie’s tent . . . but not back. He smiled. That was it. Finn or Fergus—or maybe Mr. McKay himself—had been so drunk last night they didn’t even know they were in Mattie’s tent instead of their own. It was sort of funny in a way—but sad, too. And it wasn’t right. If Mattie came up here and one of them was in her tent, she might shoot them like she’d shot Brady Sloan. And that pistol she kept in her pocket wasn’t loaded with just rock salt, either. Freddie stood up. He would help Finn or Fergus or Mr. McKay get back to their own tent and put out the fire.

Leaving the string of rabbits on the ground, he stood up and limped to the tent flap. “It’s Freddie,” he called out. He reached through to untie it. It wasn’t tied. Which just proved how drunk they had been last night. It was a wonder they had gotten a fire going at all. At least they weren’t frozen to death in there.

“I’m coming in,” he proclaimed. “I’ll help you get back to your own—”

Pain. Darkness.

On Monday morning a flustered Mattie decided that she and Freddie were going to have to have a talk. He knew she wanted to go up to the claim this morning, and he’d promised he wouldn’t go far to hunt and would be back in plenty of time to watch over the store while she was gone. But she’d waited and waited, and still no sign of Freddie. And now, not only was she frustrated about being behind schedule to get up to her claim, she was worried for Freddie. It wasn’t like him not to keep his word. Frustrated, Mattie changed into her mining garb. At least the sun was bright and the snow was melting. Thank God.

God.
She’d been thinking about God a lot lately, especially when she was alone. It was as if the idea just kept coming up whether she was with people who talked about Him or not. As far as she could tell, she wasn’t any closer to believing in Him. Still, the
idea
of God didn’t result in resentment over her list of unanswerable questions. Instead, she had been pondering what Aron said about accepting the things he couldn’t understand about God by clinging to the things he did.

This morning, as Mattie let Justice out and prepared her own breakfast, a new idea came to her. Maybe faith was like gold mining. She couldn’t see how much color existed on her entire claim, but she believed there was more because of the gold she had seen. Maybe that was what Aron had been talking about. You started with a little bit of faith and trusted for what you couldn’t see. The problem was Mattie couldn’t seem to conjure up even a nugget of trust in God—at least not on behalf of herself.

She had come to think God probably did have an interest in her friends. Aron and Tom had been gone for a week now, and she had tired of worrying about them and started talking to God about it and felt better for it.

A bark at the back door announced the return of Justice, and when she let him in, she was almost happy to see how muddy he was. Mud meant melting snow. And melting snow meant warmer air and improved conditions for Tom and Aron and the freighters. They might have to slog through mud, but mud wasn’t life-threatening. Mud, she knew Swede could handle. Heading into the store, Mattie perused the calendar, counting days, trying to anticipate when everyone would be back.

“Well, Justice,” she said aloud, her finger on today’s date, October 30, “if everything was going smoothly, I would be expecting the freighters to pull into town somewhere around November third. I’m thinking the snow has added at least a week. And if it gets too muddy . . .” She paused and smiled down at the dog. “What do
you
think?” Justice danced around the kitchen, his tail wagging.

By the time Justice and Cat had been fed, and she’d had her second cup of coffee, Mattie felt better about things. Freddie had just been delayed by the snow. He’d turn up sometime this morning, and if she left now, she wouldn’t be gone long.

“So what do you think, Justice?” she asked abruptly. “Can I hire you as a guard dog? Will you keep the bad guys away from the store while I check on things at the claim?”

When Justice barked, Mattie nodded. “Actually, I think you will.” The pup was gangly, but he was big, and his bark had changed from the yapping of a pup to a deep “woof ” that made people watch him carefully.

She made two signs that read
Back soon. Beware of Dog
and hung one at each door. Pulling on her buffalo coat, Mattie prepared to leave. “You be good now,” she said to Justice. “And I’ll see that you get a nice ham bone as pay for guarding the place.”

After securing the lock, Mattie slogged through town and up toward her claim. She might not have made any progress toward God in recent days, but she had made a huge decision about people. It was time to start trusting. She was going to listen to Tom and Aron, and starting with half the contents of one of the bottles in her cache, she would deposit her gold in the bank. Over the next few weeks she would gradually bring more into town until it was all locked up—equal amounts in each of the three banks in town. She hoped that dividing it up that way would keep most of Deadwood from knowing that Matt the Miner was rich.

The concept of wealth had already presented new things to ponder. She could go anywhere, but there was no place she wanted to go right now. She could buy a business, but she honestly liked prospecting. She could build a church, but it seemed like a person who went around building churches should probably be a member, and she wasn’t ready for that. She still had too many questions about God. Aron might be able to live in that space he talked about between things he understood and things he never would, but she wasn’t ready to do that. If God was God, then why didn’t He just show himself in a way that people couldn’t ignore?

He does that, Mattie. He does it all the time. Just look around you.
The sky . . . the stars . . . the moon . . . and the changes in people when
they finally give in.
She could almost hear Aron saying those very words. He’d even told her once that perhaps she should pray the same way someone else who met Jesus once did. “Lord, I believe. . . . Help my unbelief.” So far, even though she’d said the words a couple of times, nothing had changed beyond a very tiny understanding of faith as it related to gold mining . . . and the absence of the grudge she’d held against God for a long time. Now, in place of the grudge, she felt . . . almost hopeful. As she headed up the gulch, she began to sing.