Jasper Mountain (11 page)

Jack straightened and smiled. “Guess I’m a mess, huh, kid?”

Mouse’s expression scrunched even more and he looked up at Jack.

“Oh, the hell with it. Let’s go home.” An idea broke through the whole, big, fiery ball in his chest. “Hey, you ever ridden a horse?”

The boy studied Jack with intense concentration.

“Horse. Ride. Horse.” Jack galloped a few steps, holding imaginary reins. A smile broke on Mouse’s face, just a hint of one, actually. More than enough for Jack. Between Mouse and the beautiful morning, he decided to leave his worries for later. Or at least until he was safe from exploding with frustration and anger. A fit would do him no good. He knew of one thing that might change his mood.

“Come on, kid. You’re gonna love Willow.”

Milena did not understand. Why did the
Shuv’hani
lead her to such a place? After a week, she understood this so-called boardinghouse for ladies. What about her dream, she wondered, the castle and the queen? This was no castle. And the proprietress was no queen.

She ran her hand along the print on the wall, a lattice of vines and blossoms. Exotic painted birds punctuated the pattern. They perched proudly, held for eternity in the lovely print. Trapped.

“Why,
Shuv’hani?
Why?”

A knock at the door jolted Milena from her thoughts. She’d learned a knock meant food waited for her in the hallway, and not just any food, but trays heaped with sumptuous feasts beyond compare. Already she saw fewer angles in the mirror, less of a sharpness to her face. The hollows of starvation had not quite faded away, but almost.

Another knock. To her surprise, the door opened. A young woman with hair the color of early morning sunlight entered carrying a silver tray bearing the extravagant food Milena came to expect.

“Oh, don’t be afraid,” the young woman said, her voice surprisingly deep for one so small. It reminded Milena of a smoky evening campfire. “My name is Beth, and I’m very pleased to meet you. Miss Isabella told me all about you and asked me to bring this and see if you need anything.” Milena shook her head.

Beth sat the tray on a small table in the corner. “Cook’s outdone herself for luncheon. Roasted turkey stuffed with currants and sausages. Please.” Beth gestured for her to sit. Milena’s mouth watered at the rich, buttered scent of turkey and the spicy sausages. She kept her place, her back against the wall. She gulped, hoping her eagerness for food did not show.

Beth sighed. “I won’t harm you, really. And I won’t say a word about you to the others, although they are quite curious. The mysterious cousin in Deborah’s old room. Miss Isabella trusts me; you can, too.” Beth stopped as if she expected Milena to speak. When she didn’t, the young woman continued. “Well, please enjoy dinner. I’ll come back later and draw your bath.”

Alarm rose through Milena. Bath? Was this the beginning then, of her offering to the men of Jasper?

“No,” she said, stepping forward. “No, I thank you for the food. I …” her voice trailed off. She what? Could not stand another moment trapped in this fine room with its floral walls and ruffled quilts? Refused to give herself over to a man she did not love? What else was there for her? Where could she go?
Shuv’hani, are you certain I am to be here?
she asked silently. Tingles cascaded from her crown and skittered down her body in an affirming waterfall.

Yes, here.

“Miss Isabella has chosen a lovely dress for you,” Beth said, confirming Milena’s suspicion. She was to be primped and paraded like this delicate and useless flower standing before her.

“Actually,” Beth continued, “the dress is one of mine. You’ll be beautiful in it.”

“I do not need your dress,” Milena said despite how silly she sounded. After her journey across the country, her own clothes were tattered rags.

“Oh, I’m happy to give it to you. It’s deep blue, like the sky just before night.” Beth shrugged. “The dress is too dark for me. I’ve barely worn it at all. Besides, I have many more. I’ll never miss one.” Beth’s dimples deepened. “Miss Isabella was right. Milena, you are very beautiful. Can you really see the future?” she asked.

The boldness of the girl’s asking surprised Milena. Then she saw more than curiosity in the young woman’s wide, blue eyes. A fragile hope glimmered, the kind that is afraid to come out for fear it might wither and die in the light of day.

Milena nodded. “I tell fortunes.”

“Really? How?”

Milena shrugged. “Many ways. My gazing ball. Tea leaves. Seeing cards. Your palm.”

“My palm?” Beth studied her hand, and then held it out reluctantly. Her eyes grew soft with unshed tears. Suddenly, she yanked it back. “I’m sorry. Your food will get cold.” She spun around. “I’ll come back later. Enjoy your meal.”

Perhaps it was the girl’s gentle compassion for a stranger, or the fragile yet vibrant hope running through her, but something caused Milena to reach out. Beth turned, a tear sliding silently down her cheek. The final persuasion. Milena rarely opened herself to anyone; the connection took so much from her. But she let herself open to the soul of this girl and took the stranger in her arms, holding her close. She felt Beth’s heartbeat, her life energy, the strength of a young spirit. The joy, the hope. The fear. All so strong, intense. Alive.

Instantly, Milena knew her quick judgment of this girl was wrong. Not a useless, delicate flower, but one fighting for existence among weeds. Just like the birds on the wall, held in a lovely, yet choking lattice of life.

Beth pushed away from Milena, her blush deepening. “Oh, heavens, I’m sorry.” She wiped tears from her cheeks. “I’m not usually such a goose.”

“You are a young woman in love. Your love is for another, not the one who pays for your affection,” Milena said. Beth’s face filled with shock. Her tears stopped. Milena ventured forward. “And you are trapped. For all the comfort and the beauty, night after night the feel of a man’s arms around you, you are alone, longing for the one who truly holds your heart.”

Beth gasped. “How can you possibly know?”

Milena smiled. “You can trust me, too, Sunshine.”

A bewildered smile bloomed on Beth’s face. “Why ever did you call me that? My mama used to call me Sunshine.”

Milena hesitated to say what came to her next, not wanting to broach such a sacred subject uninvited. The specter following Beth glimmered so clearly. Through her connection, Milena knew the girl needed to hear.

“Your mother, she keeps watch over you. She is very near.”

Beth’s face drained of all its color. “Really?” The word came out a sigh, a whispered prayer.

“You feel her, too, do you not?”

Beth nodded. “Yes. Sometimes, especially when I’m lonely. Or when I’m frightened. She used to sing to me, this lullaby.” Beth hummed a snatch of a lovely melody. “She’s been gone so long. I miss her very much.”

Milena nodded. She, too, knew the feeling of being lost and alone.

“She is not gone. She is close. Strong. She stands beside you.”

Beth shook her head. The tears in her eyes changed from pools of sadness to wonderment. “I … I … Oh, my. I don’t know what to say.” Her breath hitched in, almost a sob.

“Just hear her, Beth. Listen. You remain her sunshine. Always. She will help you, guide you. Of this, I am sure.”

Jack often wondered if Mouse ever acted like a child. Played. Laughed. Well, the kid did know how to giggle, and Jack had proof. At first, Mouse hesitated, afraid of Willow. Jack climbed up and hoisted the boy up to sit in front. He held to her reins along with Mouse, and they trotted, slowly to begin. Mouse bumped up and down, his head bobbing like a rag doll’s, but he finally got the hang of it and rode like he was born in the saddle. And that’s when the sweetness of the boy’s giggles rewarded Jack. They spent two hours riding away the frustration of the morning. The only thing better than riding Willow was hearing the joy of a boy who didn’t often get the chance to be a child.

The two now walked to the Nugget Hotel, Mouse back to swaggering. Jack decided it was high time the boy take a nap. An honest-to-goodness, lie-down-and-go-to-sleep-in-the-middle-of-the-day nap. Just like every kid should have, every day. He wondered if Mouse ever experienced one before. If not, he was about to discover one of life’s true pleasures.

They approached the Nugget Hotel, a wide, brick building hugging tightly to a lower tier of the mountain as if it were afraid it might slide off into oblivion. Jack and Mouse were coming from above the hotel and slightly west where officers’ cabins dotted the mountainside. Farther beneath and off to the side sprawled spatters of crooked shacks where the Mexican miners and their families lived. Everyone called the area Tortilla Flats. Below the Flats, a field of tents lumped together in groups and was dubbed Celestial Alley. The Chinamen lived there, speaking their strange language and keeping secrets to themselves. No one breached the invisible borders between any of the levels. Jack thought of Leno Santiago and his family. One thing life at Tumbling Creek taught him was how much a man learned from different cultures and each other. But not in Jasper. People were filled with fear and therefore disdain of anything unlike themselves.

Mouse lagged behind as they approached the dorm for miners. The Nugget Hotel. Jack snorted. The only thing hotel-like about the place was the frequency people came and went.

“Come on, kid.” For about the tenth time today, Jack felt like a pure idiot. Why didn’t he remember Mouse’s world was silent? He circled his hand in a “hurry” gesture. The boy looked down, dragging his feet through dirt. Obviously, he didn’t want to return to the hotel. Guilt stabbed through Jack, but the last thing he needed was a kid in his life.

A group of men sat on the steps leading into the building, and they watched Jack and Mouse approach. One of them, an old grizzled night-shift miner named Stoop, rose to his feet and stared. Jack figured Stoop got his nickname from his hunched shoulders, his thin frame bent like a C. The man wasn’t able to stand up or walk straight, thanks to years of working at the mine. Long wisps of hair floated around his balding head like a tangled web. A long, gray beard hid his facial features, making his huge, buggy eyes pop even more. Stoop always looked like he’d been caught by surprise. Clothing hung on his thin frame, making him not only seem ancient, but frail. Stoop was forty-two years old.

The miner broke his trance, spit in the dirt, and disappeared inside. Then three men, including Stoop, appeared in the doorway and planted themselves across it, shoulder to shoulder.

“What do you want, Buchanan?” Stoop’s tangled beard flapped when he spoke.

“I’m bringing Mouse back to take a nap.”

That elicited a laugh from the group of men. Stoop’s eyes nearly bulged right out of his head. “Nap? For that critter?”

Jack turned. Mouse pulled out and lit his pipe, puffing away. Jack reminded himself he looked at a seven-year-old boy.

He faced the men. “Yes, for him. A nap. A thing little boys do.”

“Heard you got yourself in a speck of trouble this morning.”

“Mind your own business, Stoop. Now excuse me.” Jack climbed the few steps and shouldered his way past the men. To his surprise, they let him pass.

He stopped, always taken aback at what he saw. From the outside, the Nugget Hotel looked hospitable, almost graceful, with brick walls and large, half-moon windows up high. Inside, the walls closed in a rough-hewn wood floor, and the windows let in plenty of light. And heat. The place was hotter than a blacksmith’s oven and smelled like rotten human waste. Row after row of wood platforms tilted on stacks of leftover bricks. Fully clothed and wearing their boots, a miner sat or reclined on every wood platform. Some slept on the floor. There were no mattresses. A few men slept on bedrolls or a thin blanket. Junk heaped everywhere. Tin plates, cups, piles of clothes. The building stretched out long, but only about thirty feet deep and resembled a never-ending hallway filled with junk, filth, and men. And not an interior wall in the place. Forget privacy. Or quiet.

The sunlight pouring in might have made any other place hospitable, but the night-shift miners were trying to sleep. Apparently, no one thought of them during construction. Jack remembered why he’d agreed with Victor and, despite the cost, took a cabin. This place was as bad as living in a barn. Worse.