Authors: Elle Marlow
“Take what you want. As long as you leave this man to heal.”
“No!” Dutch cried out, startling her. “No. Fallen Tree, we have a deal. You took Bird-In-Sky, and have given me this woman as a trade. I will drop every scrap of gold I have into the Devil’s Hole. I will leave every piece of this mountain behind, and you will never see either of us again. Do not take her.”
Willow closed her eyes still standing her ground ready to follow through should the Warrior choose it. Fallen Tree rubbed his chin in thought. “Bird In Sky would want me to leave you in peace.”
“That’s not all. The old woman. Let me take her too.”
Fallen Tree smirked at Dutch’s request, then nodded toward the warrior who had already helped Granny mount behind him on his horse. The Indian simply pushed Granny off and then she fell to the ground. Fallen Tree turned his attention back on Willow looking directly into her eyes. The intensity of his gaze rolled a cold chill down her spine.
“Make sure Yellow Rock leaves every stone from this mountain behind. That means every rock, of every color. Each time he spends one pebble in your white town, we fight off more whites looking for more. Let not one more stone reach Hell’s Creek, or I will forget about my bargain and the three of you will die before the rise of the next sun.”
Willow nodded, her knees weak from relief. “Come hell or high water, we are the only thing coming off this mountain.”
***
The journey to Hell’s Creek, went slowly. Fatty had run off again, leaving them to carry the supplies. But Dutch had kept his word, and dumped every bit of his wealth down the side of a canyon. The Apaches had watched him from across the cavern, and when every bit of dust had left his hands, they pulled back and disappeared.
Dutch winched often as he struggled to make it over the rocky landscape. With the help of Granny, Willow made him a crutch, and while it aided Dutch, it was often not useful over the large slabs of rocks or thick sand. Granny was also moving slowly, still not speaking, but Willow felt for sure that given time, Granny would come around.
It wasn’t Granny’s silence that was bothering Willow. Dutch had spent the journey flat out ignoring her. At first, Willow blamed it on the fact that he was fatigued from so much blood loss, and that he struggled with his wounded leg. But when they’d stop for a rest, he would purposely advert his gaze away from her. Even Granny gave her curious looks as to the man’s silence.
“Where do you suppose Fatty keeps running off to? Willow asked no one in particular. Granny gave her a puzzled look, Dutch simply pretended to be interested in something on the ground.
“Was the mule grey? I know where he’s going. He’s gone and found himself a mate. He was busy with a wild mare right outside the tree line just before your cabin,” Granny finally spoke up.
“Oh, so it was love. I should have known,” Willow responded, smiling, trying to lighten the mood. Dutch still did not say anything. Maybe he was angry with her for having to give up his gold and months of hard work, or maybe he heard her confess her love for him to Granny and he didn’t share the sentiment. Maybe he figured she was still crazy. Whatever it was, Willow decided to stop trying to push him to talk.
She could almost smell the stench from Hell’s Creek when Dutch put his hand on her shoulder to stop her. Willow turned to face him, hopeful that he’d gotten over his dark mood, but instead, was met with a revolver being placed in her hand. The gun was heavier than she expected, and Dutch reached out before she could drop it.
“What are you doing?” His eyes narrowed in on her, and his jaw rippled as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. She wanted to run her fingers over his bearded jawline and smooth the tension, but something in his expression told her he wouldn’t allow it.
“It’s time you learn how to use one,” he stated flatly.
“Finally, but why now?”
Dutch didn’t answer, he simply went on to explain what each part of the gun was for, how to hold it and how to aim and fire. She took a few shots at a small, white rock in the distance, shattering it into a million pieces.
He watched, standing close enough to her that her body began to ache from wanting to touch him. It seemed to have been too long, and her heart hurt with how much she needed to feel him against her.
“Must be your southern blood,” was all he said before turning away from her. Something was definitely wrong, but he wasn’t going to talk about it now.
“Okay, I shot it, now what?” she called after his retreating figure as he hobbled down a hillside toward the camp.
“Keep it. And if you aim at someone, you better damn-well shoot.”
***
“I’ll be danged,” Everett breathed, as their small, ragged group entered the camp, approaching him right outside his make-shift jail. “Willow Blanford has been with you the whole time? We figured the Apaches caught her again. Do you know the ruckus you caused around here, ma’am? The Colonel was in town, and boy, was he madder than a wet cat.”
Willow’s blood drained from her face. “My father was here? In Hell’s Creek?”
“Yes ma’am. He’d come and already left. That was a few days ago. He tried making demands that we all organize a search party to find you, but we’d already done that once, and nobody wanted to push their luck rummaging around that mountain a second time. Especially without Dutch.”
“Where did he go?” Willow asked, her throat agonizing dry. She’d really thought she’d never see her father again. At least, she hoped.
“I have no idea. He just vanished. He ain’t the only one. In fact, many of our citizens are leaving Hell’s Creek to find a more hospitable place to mine for gold. Dutch, what do you have to do with any of this?”
“Nothing,” she answered for him. “Nothing at all. He found me and brought me back.” She thought she was going to be sick. The colonel had actually been here. If he learned of her experience with the Apaches, and of her feelings for a Yankee, she had no doubt he’d commit her to a sanitarium.
“If he comes looking for me again, tell him Willow Blanford died.”
Everett gave her a perplexed look, but she meant every word of it. It was true, she wasn’t the same person she was just a short month ago, and since there’s no way she’d allow the colonel to control her life anymore, she might as well be dead. Everett gave Dutch’s bandaged leg a curious glance, then tipped his hat before retreating inside the jail.
Willow turned to face Dutch. Already tears stung her eyes. Granny collapsed on a bench, then dropped her face into her hands. Dutch gave Granny a long consideration then returned his attention to her.
“I need to speak with you in private,” he said, his tone taking on an unfamiliar formality that coursed a warning and made the burning in her eyes almost unbearable. Willow squeezed her hands into fist as she followed him a few feet away, biting down on her lip wondering what had finally inspired him to talk.
His lips thinned while his jaw tensed. Then his beautiful brown eyes closed just before he spoke. When he opened them again, she saw resignation burning in them.
“You know how I feel about you. But you know I have nothing now. No gold, little coin and no home. I don’t even have a mule anymore. It doesn’t matter how much I love you, if I can’t provide anything for you.”
“So you do love me?” she questioned, feeling the strings of panic tangle up inside of her. He’d said the words, but there was finality to it that was all too familiar and it scared the life out of her. He lifted his hand to run it down the side of her face. She stepped away from his touch. No, no. She would not allow him to say goodbye.
“Of course I love you…”
“But not enough not to be selfish. Not enough to quit your obsession over the gold.”
“This isn’t the same. You don’t understand, I won’t feel like a man if I have nothing to offer…” He ran his fingers through his hair, his frustration thick enough she felt it heavy against her skin. Then images of Georgia danced in her mind, the faces of the Wiles as they walked away…the feeling of abandonment was back and she was damned tired of it.
Her breathing slowed as reality sunk in. Another day of losing someone she wanted to stay and be a part of her life. Just like mama, the Wiles, hell, even Fatty the mule.
“Fine.”
“Willow…What are we supposed to live on?”
“I don’t care. If you go back up that mountain the Apaches will kill you. They won’t hesitate this time.”
His expression darkened as he straightened his frame despite using the crutch.
“What do you expect me to do?”
“I have money. You said so yourself. I have lots of money in the bank.”
“I can’t be the kind of man that depends on charity. In fact, I won’t be.”
Willow wasn’t sure who was crazy at this point, her or him. But she saw nothing wrong with the three of them living off of whatever her father had left her.
“You’re not thinking things through. You’re tired, your hurting from your leg. You just need to…” he grasped her hand and then lifted it to his lips. Willow felt his good bye against her skin while anger flashed hot within her. No. Not again, she wasn’t going to tolerate being left again.
“Leave me now Dutch and you can keep on leaving. I’m through with having people walk out on me. Gold is still the only thing you care about. Why don’t you admit it?”
Dutch let the crutch fall to the ground as he wrapped her up in his arms. “I’ll show you what I care about. Kiss me, Willow.”
“No.”
“Kiss me,” he demanded, saying the words against her forehead. She gathered his shirt into her fist, refusing to kiss him goodbye.
“Kiss me.”
Dutch bent his head way down and used his hand to force her chin upwards. He placed his lips on hers and smoothly worked them against hers. She resisted for a moment before giving into the desire to kiss him back. Raw pain mixed with pleasure as Dutch continued insisting she cave to his demands. Then he simply rested his cheek on the top of her head, holding her tightly against him. They stood like that for long minutes, until finally, he released her.
“Someday soon, I’m going to have a cattle ranch. A real house, a real bed, and a real life. When I’m ready, I’ll come find you. And I’ll bring with me a preacher man to show you my promises are forever. Mining towns die eventually, and you heard Everett, this one is on its last leg. Go Willow, find someplace better in the meantime. I know people haven’t given you much reason to trust them, but you’ll have to trust me. You’ll have to trust one more person at least one more time.”
A sob tore from her throat with his words. She did trust him. And she knew no amount of begging would talk him into changing his mind. She hugged him once more, pressed her lips against his bearded cheek. “I am so scared for you, Dutch. I’m so scared for us both.”
“Crazy woman, you have already lived through more tragedy than most souls can bear. Walk without fear. Go into the world as woman worth loving. I love you, and I’ll find you.”
Chapter Eight
“I can’t promise you another stage will come through here again. In seven days, word will have spread that everyone has left Hell’s Creek for other gold camps. If you don’t board this wagon, you might not get another chance,” Everett said, as he stood holding his own bags in his hands.
“But Dutch’s mule came back. I’m sure Dutch will return to Hell’s Creek to retrieve his mule. I just want to give Dutch one more week,” she explained, ignoring Everett’s look of doubt and pity. Finally, Everett shrugged.
“Lady, are you still crazy? You must be. It’s been over a month. Dutch ain’t never been gone that long before. Even that mule knows it’s a fact. Now come on. It’s time you face the truth. Now take that old lady Parker and pay the fare. Let’s all get out of here. I’m the last of the acting law in this camp and before you know it, these buildings will fill up with transients and outlaws. Now, be sensible, and board the wagon.”
Granny stepped up then. “He’s making sense. I’m going Willow. I can’t wait around anymore. There is nothing left. Nothing. Even if your Dutchman is still alive, he wouldn’t look for you here.”
Willow leaned on the post of the depot and casted a glance at Fatty who looked about as sorrowful as she felt. Winter had come early, and the chill she felt had nothing to do with the weather. Fatty continued to watch her, with an unsettling disappointment in his eyes.
Willow unwrapped her shawl from her shoulders and then ran inside the post office. She found an ink well and pen and wrote a single word across her shawl. Everett and Granny had already boarded the wagon when she went back outdoors. With a smile, she wrapped and then tied the shawl around Fatty’s neck. She then kissed the animal on the forehead, right between his big brown eyes.
“Go find that prospector and tell him I still love him.”
Mining camp, Bodie, California
After staying at several mining camps, Willow and Granny decided to take root in Bodie. The booming mining camp held promise of someday becoming a town, since people were arriving daily from the east or other mines that had gone dry. Whenever Willow over-heard the miners talk of the gold, it sounded as if there was plenty buried in the surrounding hills for all. She couldn’t help but hope that Dutch would hear of this and maybe step off a stage and back into her arms.
Willow made it a habit to sit and watch the influx of people, looking for Dutch or the Wiles until days turned into weeks turning her life into a lonely existence. Granny had made herself the center of gossip by sharing the story of their experiences to anyone who’d listen. All her gossip effectively made Willow an outcast especially since she was carrying a baby with an unknown father. So again, she found herself alone, even here.
Sunday was always a good day to see the camp folk, so Willow sat at her favorite table with a good view of the depot. So far no stages had arrived. Feeling disappointed, she placed her hand on her belly feeling the baby move inside of her. There wasn’t much room left, and she knew the birth should be any day now. Out the dirty window, and across the street a few people had gathered under a shady tree for Sunday worship. She would have liked to have joined them, but she was afraid of hearing more comments about her bastard baby. And, what if the child came out with Apache blood? As much as she’d hoped the child belonged to Dutch, the truth was, she couldn’t be sure, but she made the decision months ago that she loved this baby no matter what and would simply do the best she could with the gift god gave her.
As a sermon rose outside the window, Willow memorized each and every face wondering if she’d ever find Dutch amongst them. She exhaled long and slow. It was hard to let go, and it was hard to hold on. His words sang in her ear like the gospel outside…
“I promise; I’d never hurt you. Just don’t let your mind drift from me. If you get scared, hold me tighter and say my name. Keep saying my name over and over and stay with me, can you promise me that, Willow?”
She could, and she knew she wasn’t ready to give up yet.
The door of the restaurant opened, bring with it a crisp breeze and Rosa May.
“How are you feeling, Willow?” Rosa asked as she took a seat.
“Like an overstuffed Christmas Goose.”
Rosa laughed, flipping her dark hair behind her shoulder. Other women in the restaurant made some comments under their breath about the town whore, that Rosa effectively ignored.
“That baby will be here any day now. Have you received any word from that prospector in Arizona? You know you’re crazy for having waited so long for a gold miner? I’ve met lots of them, and they’re not the most reliable of souls.”
Willow shook her head. “If you only knew how many times people have told me I’m crazy. But Dutch told me to trust him, and while I admit, my hope is fading, I can’t stop myself from looking down the street, from staring at all the new faces that arrive in Bodie wondering if some kind of word is waiting for me. The worst of this is wondering if Dutch met his demise at the hands of the Apaches. The not knowing is torture. Hell, I don’t even know if he’d even think of looking for me here.”
“Well, most of Hell’s Creek did end up here,” she pointed out.
“I cling to that fact. I really do.”
The table of women got up and left. Only this time, one of the women called them both worthless whores. Again, Rosa shrugged off their comments like it meant nothing, her smile still stuck on her face. Willow winced, dropping her gaze to her belly wishing she could just crawl into a mineshaft herself.
Rosa’s brows knotted together. “How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t listen to those hags, Willow. It wasn’t long ago, that their husbands suffered from a terrible illness and those women were too weak and shallow worrying about themselves even to care for their own men. I had to nurse those miners back to health. But that’s not you, is it? Granny told me how you faced your biggest fear to save your man. You are a strong and loyal woman. Remember that the next time they stick their noses in the air,” Rosa insisted.
Outside, both those women shrieked in fright which was followed by a boisterous braying of a mule. Willow’s heart jumped. It had been so long since she’d heard a mule make noise like that. She quickly leaned toward the window, straining to get a better look. The mule was dark, tall and thin and begging for food.
Willow sat back in her chair exhaling her disappointment. It wasn’t Fatty. For a moment, she’d really thought that poor animal was Dutch’s mule. Tears welled and she wiped them before they could fall. Obviously, she’ll be looking for Dutch for the rest of her life.
“I have gift for you,” Rosa said, dragging Willow’s attention back to her.
Willow forced herself to smile at the only person in Bodie willing to be her friend. But she was a true friend, and Willow nodded gratefully. Rosa might have been a prostitute, but she was also kind and generous, so the fact she had a gift, wasn’t surprising at all.
“What is it?”
“Hmm…not what, but who.”
“Who?”
“I’m confused though. You must have been a busy little bee around the Arizona Territory.”
A pain wrapped around her belly, and Willow shifted in her seat to find a comfortable position. “I was busy alright, running from Indians and Yankees, but mostly myself.”
“And falling in love?”
“Of course.”
“Yet all this time I thought you were in love with a man named Dutch.”
“I am.” Admitting her feelings and hearing Dutch’s name spoken out loud, was enough to allow a tear to slip past the wall she was trying to build. She hadn’t even cried in front of Rosa yet. She supposed this would be the first of many, but Dutch, she couldn’t imagine never seeing him again, never feeling his arms…
“Well then, why is there a telegram for you from a man named Lucas Rayburn? I’ve never heard of that name before. And this town calls
me
promiscuous,” Rosa teased, following that up with a wink.
Willow blinked at Rosa several times as the name floated around in her head in disbelief. Then her hands flew to cover her mouth.
“Oh, Rosa! That’s him! Lucas is his real name!” Willow’s heart slammed against her chest with hope as her whole body started shaking from excitement.
“Good. Here,” Rosa offered, with a laugh, holding out a piece of paper. “I think you better get a grip on yourself, because according to this, he’ll be arriving in Bodie any day now.”
“Dutch? He’s coming to Bodie?”
“Apparently. And he’s bringing the Wiles couple with him to bear witness to your marriage. He’s a confident man, isn’t he? Knowing you’d wait for him.”
“He’s a smart man. I would have waited forever!”
***
Dutch held the shawl he found on Fatty tightly within his grip. He braced himself for the worst when he found the home of Rosa May. By the looks of the home, he worried the stories of a sickly woman named Willow living in paltry conditions with another lady who was a well-known prostitute were true.
He’d worried himself over Willow for months until Fatty had found him on the California border. He was mining the richest strike he’d ever witnessed. But when he saw his old friend wearing a shawl, he knew it was that moment when he’d truly struck it rich. On the shawl were the faded words; Bodie. He knew he’d find Willow when he was ready, but he never would have guessed Fatty would be the one to tell him just where to look.
Now he stood on the dirt packed street looking up at a house not much better than his one room cabin up on the mountain. He inhaled deeply as he took his first step up the step. Please, he thought, let Willow still be here.
The cry of an infant filtered through the weathered double doors.
A baby?
Dutch hurried up the steps of the porch. When he called out Willow’s name, his breath lodged in his chest waiting for the door to open.
From the shadows of the home, Willow emerged from the inside, holding a tiny baby with large brown eyes and thick swath of dark hair. The child was swaddled snuggly in a blanket, but managed to wiggle enough to expose a hand for Dutch’s inspection.
“The child has a crooked pinky finger,” he breathed, reaching out to touch the infant’s hand and losing himself to awe and wonderment.
“They called me crazy for waiting for you,” Willow told him softly, tears streaming down her face. His mind raced back to when he’d first seen her. She was tied to a tree and whistling a tune. She was beautiful then, but he had to admit, she was even more beautiful now. Especially holding the baby, his baby. He used his thumb to wipe the tears from her face. His throat tightened. God, it was so good to see her.
“I’ve missed you, Willow.”
“I’ve missed you too, you don’t know how much.”
“Girl or boy?” he asked, thickly.
“Girl and boy,” she said, a smile shaping her face. Just then a tall dark haired woman walked up behind her holding a second baby, slightly smaller and definitely more feminine featured. This child was a mirrored image of her mother.
“Dutch, meet Luke and Dixie. They’re your children.”
Dutch pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off a blazing sting. He inhaled a lungful of air and held it. How did he get so blessed? Two babies…
“Willow, I’m the one who is crazy. Crazy for having ever letting you out of my sight. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t worry myself into madness about you. I love you so much and I am desperate to make you my wife. Are you ready to finally go home to Rayburn Ranch?” he asked, reaching into his pocket and then holding out a golden band for her inspection. Willow raised her eye brows upon seeing the golden metal reflecting the sun as bright as day.
“Don’t worry, this gold came from a rich strike I found right here in California. Our ranch sits right next to it, and its full of cattle and one very stubborn mule.”
Willow’s look of joy and responding laugh reached right into his heart.
“I’ve been ready for so long. A real home built not from just sticks and stones but from love. Your love, Dutch. Take us home.”
The End
Epilogue
It was just as Dutch described. Cattle as far as the eye could see. Willow stepped off the wagon and into a world full of rolling green pastures and the sound of calves bellowing for their mamas. In all her life she’d never seen such breathtaking beauty. The Mono Lake ranch that Dutch built far exceeded anything her imagination could conjure. As she stood, looking out over the scenery, she could clearly see the rest of her life. And it would be a good life, full of love that would never again falter.
“So what do you think?” Dutch asked, walking up beside her holding both babies in the bend of both of his arms.
“I think it’s heaven.”
Out in the distance, two people emerged from the house holding hands and smiling wide. Willow inhaled and then lifted her skirts to run toward the two people who had never once given up on her. John and Memaw Wiles had kept their word and were in California just like they said they’d be. When they wrapped their arms around her she knew her journey had been worth it. She was finally home.
*****
Other Titles by Elle Marlow