Sourdough Creek Read online

“Until I read it that’s all I know.”

  Cassie stepped her horse close to his and gazed into his face. He saw her concern and excitement, too. What could he tell her? Only that it was bad news. Something he didn’t want to hear. Or think about. He could move on as many times as he could count on both hands but it seemed impossible to outrun the past. It caught him like a faithful dog, but unlike man’s best friend, always ended up biting him spitefully.

  All of Cassie’s fears had been well founded. It was dark by the time they clattered slowly into camp, where Uncle Arvid was shouting irritably, as if they were ignoring him on purpose.

  As they got closer, Cassie had wanted to ride ahead, get back faster, but Sam wouldn’t let her. The letter had chased his good mood away, even though he hadn’t taken the time to read it.

  “Cassie, is that you, girl?”

  Uncle Arvid’s harsh tone sent a chill of warning up her spine. She dismounted and fumbled with her reins.

  “I’ll be right there, Uncle. I’m tying up Meadowlark right now.”

  “You and Ridgeway been gone all day! What’re you two scheming up? A plot to cut me out? Or are you getting all lovey dovey?”

  Cassie looked from the cold fire to her uncle’s tent. His ranting was grating on her nerves. How dare you say such things! We’ve done everything in our power to make you comfortable, and still you… Irritation gave way to fear as she got closer to the tent. “I’m here,” she said through the flap. “What do you need?” Even from this side of the tarp she could smell whiskey mixed with the sharp scent of kerosene from his lamp.

  “What do I need? Food! Get me some supper! My belly thinks my throat’s been cut.”

  Cassie turned to go.

  “And make it fast!”

  “I’ll have it as soon as I can, Uncle.”

  “Did I hear a tone from you, girl? Did I! You ain’t too big for me to—”

  She whirled and ran straight into Sam, who gripped her arms to keep her from falling. “Slow down, Cassie. He’ll live—that is, if I decide not to kill him myself. I have a small flame going and,” he held up the bucket, “I’m on my way to the river.”

  Cassie had to look away. She blinked several times to rid her eyes of the tears filling them. “Thank you,” she murmured past a walnut-sized lump in her throat.

  He gave her a quick hug, then said softly, “Don’t mention it.”

  She tried to smile at his teasing but his standing up for her meant everything at that moment.

  Back at the fire, Cassie mixed and moved with speed. The oil was hot in minutes and she scooped batter to form three small hotcakes in the bottom of the skillet. Sam came back from the river and haphazardly tossed about a half cup of coffee grinds into the basket of the coffee pot and set it into the flames.

  He sat back on his heels. “If you win the claim, are you staying out here with him?” He hitched his head toward Arvid’s tent.

  Cassie stared at the tiny bubbles popping up through the thin batter as the edges of the cakes turned a pretty brown. “I haven’t decided. To be honest, I’m not sure what I want to do anymore. When it was just Josephine and me planning to come out, it seemed like a good idea even though now I realize that was an outlandish notion. Actually, it was the only option we had. Now, after all the hours I’ve spent in that cold river, I don’t know. If Uncle wasn’t hurt maybe he’d be a different person.”

  Sam was staring. “Maybe.”

  She lifted the corner of one hotcake with her spatula to check to see if it was done.

  “And if you found a nugget, one that would support you and the start-up costs of your bakery, what would you do? Stay here to try to find more, or go back to civilization?”

  “Sam, why all these questions? You know as well as I do that that’s just a dream. One few miners ever realize. I’m not silly enough to think that’s the way it’s going to happen. Like you said, a fortune is built one flake at a time.”

  Chapter Fifty

  Sam watched as Cassie flipped the cakes and patted them down several times.

  “Just what if?” he persisted.

  She looked up at him and had to smile. His tone was so earnest, his expression just as solemn. He was watching her and she knew he wouldn’t drop the subject until she answered.

  “If I found the means that would fund what Josephine and I needed to get started, I’d pack up and go tomorrow.”

  “And what about Arvid?”

  “What about him? He’s my uncle. The only family we have. If he wants to be a part of it, then that’s how it’ll be.”

  “You think that would be good for Josephine?” Sam asked. “Him bossing her around, cursing in front of her, drinking, and who knows what else?”

  “Cassie!” Arvid bellowed at the top of his lungs. His temper hadn’t abated in the least. “Get up here, girl!”

  Cassie looked at Sam and tried to read what he was thinking. She was glad the dusky light hid her embarrassment. She took the spatula and flipped the three hotcakes onto a plate and set four leftover strips of bacon from their morning meal, which had been heating up by the fire, alongside.

  Sam spooned more batter into the hot skillet. She couldn’t miss the angry slant of his mouth and his clenched jaw.

  When a string of obscenities from Arvid’s tent filled the silence, Sam dropped the pan he was holding into the coals and bolted up, taking a step in Arvid’s direction. “I think your uncle would like to take that bath right now! It’ll cool him off considerably.”

  Cassie grasped his arm. “No, Sam. I’ll take care of it. It’s not your responsibility.”

  He shook her off and started for the tent. “It’s just not right, Cassie. Don’t know how you stand it. He’ll learn to treat you with respect—one way or another.”

  She took a hold of the back of his belt with one hand, and balanced the plate in the other. She set her heels in the dirt. “Stop, Sam! He’s my uncle!” And I’m trapped, just like my mother had been. To a no good… “That’s the only thing that keeps me going. It’s the only thing I can do.”

  Sam stopped. With force, he kicked a rock and watched it sail into the bushes. For a long moment he gazed at the spot where it landed. Finally, he turned to her and tipped her face up with a lightly placed finger under her chin. “You’re right. Go on and I’ll tend to our supper.”

  As hard as it was, Sam kept quiet about Arvid through their meal and poured himself the last of the coffee as Cassie straightened up. At the moment, the letter he’d gotten from their new neighbors was on his mind. He’d been pondering what it could be about. He lifted a lantern and started down to the river.

  He settled himself on a rock and took the post from his pocket, carefully opening it. As he’d thought, it was from Clemen. After a few lines of pleasantries and news from home—couples who’d wed, babies that had been born and such—Clemen got to the heart of his message. Sam’s father, Brewster Ridgeway, was being granted clemency for good behavior after sixteen years behind bars. He was coming home to Greenville in three months’ time and wanted to reunite with his sons. Clemen said he hadn’t responded to the letter yet, and he would wait until he’d heard from Sam.

  Anger wrapped itself around Sam’s heart and squeezed mightily. His sons? When had Brewster Ridgeway ever thought of Seth and him as his sons? That was almost laughable. The joke would be on him if he thought he could just waltz in and pick up a life, one he’d never even tried to have before, with them and be welcome.

  The letter rested in Sam’s lap, forgotten as he studied the river, unable to see the sprays as they went up and over the rocks in the darkness of night.

  It was a pity his mother, who’d come from a good family in Boston, hadn’t seen through Brewster’s lies for what they were before she accepted his proposal. How different her life could have been. She knew nothing of her husband’s real past and so Sam and Seth had grown up with no knowledge of grandparents, except for the two on her side. The Ridgeway family line was a mystery.

  �
�Sam?”

  He turned and found Cassie standing behind him. He hadn’t heard her approach and wasn’t sure he was ready for any company after the news he’d just gotten.

  “What does it say?” Her eyes were dark and worried, searching his face. He looked away.

  She persisted. “The letter. Who’s it from?” There was a forced lightness to her voice. Airy.

  “A friend.”

  She laughed softly. “Who?”

  “Clemen.” He knew the name would mean nothing to her and yet he offered no more.

  “You sure know how to shut someone out,” she said a little sadly. She scooted onto the rock next to him, much in the way he’d made her sit with him. She gave him a nudge with her shoulder. “Come on. You’ll feel better if you share your burden.”

  What could it hurt? He’d been carrying it around so long on his own he was ready to pass it over. “Clemen is a man who took my brother and me in when our ma died. I was eight and Seth was five. He fed us and clothed us and sent us to school. He taught us to ride and instilled in us a love for horses. He owned the livery in town and did business accordingly. For all purposes, I think of him as our father even though he and my ma never married.”

  Cassie picked up his hand and laced her fingers through his. “So, what does this Clemen have to say that’s put that worried look into your eyes?”

  This was a bold move for Cassie and Sam was surprised. No doubt it gave him a jolt of pleasure but, more than that, it moved him that she saw that he was hurting deeply and wanted to make things better.

  “My real father, the one I said I hadn’t seen for a long time, is getting out of prison. His sentence was lightened for good behavior.” Sam laughed. “He’s sent a message to Clemen telling him he wants to see Seth and me.” He looked down at his boots and shook his head. “I won’t, though. To me he’s dead.”

  Cassie was quiet for a long time. “Can I ask what he did?”

  “Does it matter?” he answered gruffly.

  This was harder than he’d thought it would be. Surely when Cassie heard that he was the son of an outlaw she’d think differently of him.

  “Sam?”

  “He was part of an outlaw gang,” he offered more civilly.

  “I see.”

  “You can’t. Not really. Your family was what one is meant to be. Affectionate and supportive. Responsible. Josephine’s told me several times how loving your parents were. I don’t think it’s possible you could understand how I’m feeling right now.”

  Cassie rolled a little pebble under her boot and looked away.

  “We’re supposed to forgive, as hard as it might be,” she said quietly. “No matter what. Seventy times seven. We can’t see what’s in someone’s heart. Things aren’t always what they seem, Sam.”

  Wrapped in the darkness of night, everything seemed still except for the flowing river. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  When she turned back to face him, there was a look in her eyes he’d never seen before. Despair. Pain. Heartbreak. She was close and if he’d wanted to he could lean in and kiss her. But he didn’t. He needed to know what was behind that expression.

  Her eyes searched his face as if she were deciding whether to say what was on the tip of her tongue. Then softly: “I didn’t have a loving pa.”

  He was confused. “But, Josephine said…”

  “I know what Josephine has told you because it’s what I told her. I wanted to give her good memories, of a ma and pa who loved each other, and us. My mother was devoted to my father, but he was no better than my Uncle Arvid. In some ways, maybe even worse. It was my mother that kept us together. Only because she really loved him. And forgave him. But she never trusted him—she couldn’t. She worked hard to provide for us when he didn’t. Josephine was too young to remember how things were and I hope God will forgive me for lying to her. Actually, my pa was murdered by one of his companions after a night of drinking and gambling.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Sam 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.