Sourdough Creek (31 page)

Chapter Fifty-One

S
am felt as if he’d been clubbed over the head. The reassuring picture in his mind’s eye evaporated, replaced by one much more disturbing. He fought to control his anger. Another Arvid! As Cassie and Josephine’s father! And now, Cassie was repeating that same nightmarish situation with her uncle. He was positive Arvid would stick around only as long as his nieces had something to offer. Food, shelter, money. The man had all the qualities of a cur, except loyalty. He’d mooch off them as long as he could, all the while being lazy and unproductive. The minute Cassie’s resources were gone, Arvid would be, too.

Cassie looked away and took a deep breath.

“You should’ve told me, Cassie. I would’ve run Arvid off the moment he stepped foot into Grace’s house. I wish I’d known.”

“It doesn’t make a difference. I’m called to forgive my uncle, the same as I forgave my father.”
If I hadn’t, I’d be eaten up with bitterness right now
. “I know it’s hard to understand. But, I promise you, forgiveness will help you, Sam.”

“Just like that? Arvid can do whatever he wants and it doesn’t matter?”

Sam felt Cassie’s nervousness. She let go of his hand and stood. “It matters. I don’t approve of many of his actions, and I may not choose to associate with him at some point in my life, but I do forgive him.”

Sam picked up a rock by his feet and flung it into the river as he struggled to understand her thought process. “I haven’t forgiven the choices my father made throughout his sorry life. And I don’t see it happening in the future. You’re a bigger person than I am.”

She smiled at him now. “I didn’t tell you about me and Josephine to get you riled. I told you so you’d know that I can understand how you’re feeling. Sam, what if your father has changed? What if after all these years he’s come to know right from wrong? What if he’s sorry for all the pain and hardship he’s created?”

“Knowing him the way I do, it’s more like he’s fed up with being locked away and realizes the only way out is to act contrite.”

“Maybe that’s so, about your father, I mean, but, then, maybe it’s not. People
do
change and it would be such a blessing if your father had, and wanted to make amends with you and Seth. Maybe he’s become the father you always wished you had. If you don’t talk with him how will you ever know?”

She was trying so hard to be helpful and Sam appreciated it. “It may be as you say, but if my ma had a nickel every time she thought the same thing, we’d all be rich right now.” He stood as well. “A dog can’t change his spots.”

The days came and went faster than Cassie believed possible. Sam built the sluice box as promised, and they took turns every other day using it to wash away mounds of clay and dirt leaving behind soil that they would carefully scoop out and pan, all for the hope of a few flakes of gold. It was much easier and Cassie was grateful Sam had come up with the idea in the first place. The hours spent in the freezing river were dangerously long, sapping away her vigor and leaving her feeling like a rag doll at the end of the day.

Sam kept badgering her to take a day off, but she wouldn’t hear of it. The competition would be over in a week and she was doing exceptionally well. After the sluice box had been built her production surprisingly doubled what Sam was pulling from the river, and if she kept going at this pace, the claim would belong to the Angels.

Her heart constricted painfully. It felt as if it were her and Sam’s claim now. They were the ones working it day in and day out. But a deal was a deal. If she won, then Sam would have to pack up and go. Leave her life forever. Ride out as fast as he’d ridden in. That had been the arrangement from the beginning. Now, as the day approached where daydream would turn into reality, the dream took on a tarnished aura of sadness and doubt.

Cassie hefted a shovelful of dirt from the side of the riverbank and carried it through the frigid water to the sluice box, nestled securely between two big rocks. The terrain formed a natural funnel. Her arms shook from the weight of the earth and rock, as she hurried to dump it between the two gray boards. The splash drenched her from the knees down, but she was too tired even to think about the cold. With a deep sigh, she watched the water wash away the reddish-brown cloud with ease, leaving a clear window to the bottom of the box.

The sun was low in the west and cast a slice of warmth under the brim of her hat. Between the cold water and the heat of the sun, her body didn’t know how to regulate.

She turned to find Sam watching her. “Sure is hot for this late in the day.”

“I’ll bet it’s almost a hundred degrees,” he replied slowly. He was sitting on a rock, taking a break. “Mighty hot for this early in the season.” He hitched his head toward a tree on the bank. “Want to take a breather in the shade?”

She shook her head. “No. Actually, the sun feels good. Besides, it’s almost quitting time. Uncle will want his dinner on time tonight. Sam, I’m getting really worried. Is he ever going to get better?”

“Why should he?”

She stiffened. This was a sticking point with Sam. It was his favorite topic of discussion.

“He’s old.” It was her usual response, but by now she was more than suspicious herself. Fed up with his demanding ways, too. Uncle Arvid enjoyed lazing away day and night, moaning mainly when she offered to help him take a little walk. It seemed unbelievable that he could languish for so long. She was gradually coming to believe he must be faking it. Forgiving him was one thing, but she’d not get stuck in her mother’s rut. No! The next time he started his business, then, she’d let him know things were about to change.

Sam stood and walked over to the sluice box and looked inside. He took hold of one side and rocked gently, as if to check on its stability. “He’s not
that
old, Cassie. Go on and say it. You’re as suspicious as I am. Mule-headed is what you are.” She shot him a look. He smiled to punctuate the joke. “Would you mind grabbing my canteen for me?”

When Cassie turned her back and started up the river’s edge, Sam took out a vial he’d kept hidden in his pocket and carefully poured out the contents into the box, giving Cassie nine or ten flakes of gold he’d found that morning. He’d been salting the dirt she panned for more than a week, keeping less than half of what he panned for his own cache. After much thought, he’d come up with an idea for outing Arvid as the skunk he was, but it would take a little help from Cassie and he wasn’t sure yet she’d go along willingly. For the time being, he had to act concerned at the prospect of losing the claim.

She was back with his canteen. He uncapped it and took a long drink. “Thirsty?” he asked, holding it out to her.

She shook her head.

Sam held up his vial, the one with the “S” scratched into the tin lid. “Hmm, a little under three quarters full. Can I see yours?”

Her face clouded. “Sure, but it’s on the shore with my things.”

Sam went over and picked it up. He held both between his thumb and forefinger, side by side in the sunshine. He looked for a long time, until he was sure he had her undivided attention. “You’re winning by quite a bit now. I need to step up the heat.”

Sam didn’t miss her furrowed brow, or how she chewed her bottom lip. He was almost tempted to expose the plan to her right then and there. Almost. Much of the scheme’s success depended on Arvid, and his reaction to the news of Cassie’s steady, growing lead. The old coot asked about it every single night. Sam needed him to believe in Cassie’s lead, so that when he learned it had been usurped, and that Sam was going to win the rights to the claim, it would come as a most unpleasant shock.

It was a gamble—but one he hoped would pay off handsomely in the end. If it did, Cassie would know beyond question that he’d been telling her the truth about the claim from the beginning and that her uncle was a lying crook. For Cassie’s sake he hated to have to do it, but not enough to hold back from exposing Arvid for the wretchedly deceitful person he was. Sam was convinced Cassie and Josephine would be much better off without Arvid Angel complicating their lives.

“There’s still a week left, Sam. Anything could happen.”

“That’s so. But it would take a whole lot of color to make up the difference.” He shook his head as if discouraged. “I’m pretty sure I won’t be the winner.”

“You’re not giving up!” She planted her hands on her hips as she gazed at him. “Are you?”

“No. Not yet. I’m still holding out for a miracle.” He gestured to the sluice box. “It’s getting dark. You want me to help you with these last few pans before we quit? Of course, any gold I find will be yours.”

She looked up to the campsite, her brows drawn down in worry. Sam’s familiar anger at Arvid, and his desire to throttle the man, fueled his blood.

“You sure you don’t mind?” she asked.

“Nope.” Sam picked up the small cradle and scraped some of the dirt from the bottom onto Cassie’s gold pan. He did the same with his own.

They crouched side-by-side in amicable silence.

Minutes crawled by.

“Here—look.” Cassie pointed at five little gold flakes in the black dirt. “This was a good one.”

Practiced now, she pushed the slivers onto the rim of the dark gray pan with her fingernail, away from the rest of the dirt. One by one, she pressed them onto her little finger and scraped them into her container.

Sam looked into the bottom of his pan. “Hey, here’re two more.”

She was just putting the cap onto her vial. “You take those, Sam.”

“I couldn’t. They came from your dirt.”

“I don’t care. I mean it. They’re yours!”

Sam hid his smile. “Only if you’re absolutely sure.”

“Of course I’m sure. You panned them. And, you were the one who thought of the sluice box in the first place. That was such a smart idea.”

She was shivering like a newborn calf in a snowstorm, a sight Sam saw all too often of late but would never get used to. She stuck her vial into her pocket and moved toward the bank.

For the second time that day, Sam fished out the two slivers of gold from the dark earth at the bottom of his gold pan, but this time he put them into his vial marked with an “S” in the cap. He looked at Cassie. It was time to play his hand, and let the cards fall where they may.

Chapter Fifty-Two

“I
t’s clear, even to a blind man, that you’re going to win this competition, Cassie,” Sam said, tipping the brim of his hat up so he could see into her face clearly. “I’m resigned to the fact. Let me be the first one to congratulate you.”

Her head jerked up. She was standing on a grassy knoll waiting for him, her gold pan in one hand and canteen in the other. “That’s
not
a fact.” Her hair was pulled back but wisps had escaped, and her pants were soaked up to her knees.

“Well, maybe if I kept mining and you stopped, but with the daily growth on both ends good sense tells me you’re the legitimate victor.” He trudged up the side of the riverbank and was at her side. “I have something I want to ask you.”

First, Sam picked up the jacket he’d brought with him this morning and draped it over her small frame. He patted her shoulders firmly and rubbed his hands up and down her arms several times. She smiled her thanks and looked to him expectantly.

He collected his thoughts. This was his only chance to clear up this crazy misconception. “Is there any possibility you think your uncle might be lying about how he got the claim before he put it in your drawer in Broken Branch?”

She glanced away from his face, a sequence of emotions crossing her face. She hesitated.

“I thought as much,” Sam said, relief bolstering his confidence. “You do have doubts about his story. In that case, I have something else I want to ask and it’s going to sound like a crazy request. But, hear me out. And keep an open mind.” He took a step toward camp. “Come on. We can talk while we walk.”

Clearly, Cassie was hesitant. A wall of distrust sprouted right before his eyes and began to grow up around her. But, fortunately for him, she hadn’t out-and-out insisted her uncle’s story was fact. There was still a chance his idea might work. He had at least to try. “I want to switch vials with you.”

Cassie stopped and stared, wide eyed. They were at the halfway point to camp. She took a deep breath. “Why?”

“I have something I want to prove to you, and this may be the only way. At least the only way I can think of. All we’ll do is switch the lids so the vial with the most gold, yours, will have the S for Sam. I’ll keep it and you’ll keep mine. We’ll tell Arvid that today I made a killing.”

She was listening to him intently.

“We’ll both know that the vial I’ll be holding, the one with the most gold and the ‘S’ on it, really belongs to you. During the day, when we’re panning, we’ll switch back to our real containers so our gold won’t get mixed up. As soon as the week is over and we’re heading for the assessor’s office in town, we’ll change them back. I promise not a flake of your gold will be lost or taken. But the net result is your uncle will think I’m winning.”

Cassie stuck her hand in her pocket and closed her hand around the vial that held her and Josephine’s future. Right now there was enough gold inside to lease a small Main Street building somewhere, and have lots of money left over for supplies and all the baking utensils her heart desired. It wasn’t a fortune, but plenty to get her business up and running. Another week of the same good fortune and she wouldn’t have to worry about paying the bills, or feeding Josephine, for a good long time.

“Cassie, say something.” His voice was laced with uncertainty.

Stalling, she looked up to camp. She didn’t see her uncle anywhere. He hadn’t made it out of his tent again today. She brought her attention back to Sam, standing in front of her with a worried expression knitting his brow. What in the world was he planning?

“Cassie?”

“Sam, I don’t know what to say. I can’t see any reason whatsoever to do this silly thing you’re requesting.” She felt her mother’s warning deep in her heart. It screamed for her to give him a flat-out no!
He was the one who’d lied to her and Josephine for days. No. She couldn’t do it. Regardless that he’d helped her pan and do all the chores
.