Luke's Gold (21 page)

As he guided Loco up the busy street, he glanced back at the mare, and was reminded of the trust that Jack Walker had placed in him. It was enough to make him nudge Loco with his heels and lope straight through town.
I ain't forgot, Luke,
he thought.
I'll get around to it.

Following Jack's instructions, he rode out of Butte to the northwest, passing abandoned mining claims that had once held the hopes and dreams of men desperate for the strike that would mean the difference between a life of toil and one of leisure. Looking at the rough, unhealing scars left by their picks and shovels, Cade felt a sense of sadness for the earth. Anxious to leave the mining town behind, he held Loco and the mare to a steady lope until he had left the saloons and the mines behind him.

Jack's directions were easy to follow. He rode for about five miles up the valley before he came to the stream Jack had described. Looking as if it had split a huge boulder high up on the slope, the water flowed directly out of the rock and followed a ravine of lush grass that painted a wide slash of dark green down the gray mountainside. Knowing this had to be the stream he searched for, Cade guided Loco up the ravine. The bottom of the ravine was soft and spongy, a result of the grass-filled stream, with patches of moss here and there—in stark contrast to the dry hillsides.

As Jack had predicted, Cade did not see the cabin beyond the huge boulder until he was practically in the small yard before it. Surprised, he reined Loco back and paused beside the boulder to look the situation over. The dwelling was small. There was a barn behind it with a small corral, and an outhouse on the opposite side of the stream with stepping stones leading across. There was no sign of anyone outside, but there was smoke coming from the chimney.

“Hello the house,” he called out, thinking it a good idea to announce himself. Hearing no response, he was about to call out again when a slight movement on his left caused him to flinch. Startled, he turned to discover a double-barreled shotgun looking right at his head. “Whoa!” he blurted involuntarily, and backed Loco quickly away. The shotgun was in the hands of the biggest Indian woman he had ever seen, and she followed him step for step as he backed up, the shotgun still aimed at his head. The broad face was void of expression as she drilled him with eyes dark and menacing, her heavy arms never wavering under the weight of the shotgun. Remembering then, he asked, “White Moon?”

The mention of her name caused only a slight lowering of the weapon as she continued to stare into the stranger's face. Finally, she spoke. “I am White Moon. What do you want?”

Cade began a hasty explanation. The woman looked like she
wanted
to shoot him. “My name's Cade Hunter. I work for Mr. Walker. He sent me to take his daughter to Deer Lodge.” The explanation did not seem to satisfy the stoic Indian woman, so Cade went on. “I've got a letter here from Jack that says so.”

“Let me see, White Moon.” The voice came from the cabin door. Moments later, a slender young girl stepped out onto the small porch. She walked up beside the Indian woman and took the letter from White Moon's hand. After reading the brief message, she looked at Cade with an appraising eye. “My dad is hurt?” she asked.

“Yes, ma'am,” Cade replied, “broke his leg.”

She frowned as if feeling the pain herself, still eyeing Cade carefully. “Is it bad? It must have been if he couldn't come himself.”

“It's a pretty bad break,” Cade answered, still keeping a cautious eye on the large Indian woman, who showed no sign of lowering the shotgun. “Horse rolled on him. Jim Big Tree thinks it's broke in more'n one place. Anyway, he can't ride, so he sent me to take you to Deer Lodge.” He noticed a slight rise of one eyebrow when he mentioned Jim's name, but no other change in the Indian's stone face, and he kept a firm grip on the reins to hold Loco steady. The big gray gelding was becoming impatient with the confrontation and anxious to move his feet.

“Daddy says I can trust you,” Elizabeth said, gesturing toward the letter.

“Well, yes'm, I reckon you can,” Cade replied. Like his horse, he was becoming impatient with the standoff.

Suddenly, she smiled. “You can get down. Don't shoot him, White Moon.”

Cade threw a leg over and stood for a moment with one foot in the stirrup, watching White Moon until the somber Shoshone woman slowly lowered the barrel of the shotgun. “I'm obliged,” he said as he stepped down to the ground and turned to face the young lady.

She extended her hand, smiling. “I'm Elizabeth Walker,” she said. “I apologize for the rude welcome.”

He took her hand, then quickly released it as if afraid he might hurt her. “That's all right,” he said, then asked, “Have you folks had some trouble up here?”

“No. That's just White Moon's usual welcome for strange men. There are a lot of aimless drifters that pass through Butte. It doesn't happen very often, but once in a while one of them finds his way up here.” She looked at White Moon and smiled fondly. “She's been looking after me since I was a little girl.”

“Well, looks to me like she's fit to do the job.” Then, just remembering, he said, “Your daddy sent you this little mare.” He untied the lead rope and led the horse up beside Loco. Her reaction was one he would have expected from a small child.

“Oh, she's beautiful!” she squealed, and immediately took the rope from him. Stroking the mare's neck, she smiled at White Moon. “Isn't she beautiful?” The Shoshone woman smiled and nodded.

Watching the girl's delighted reaction to her father's gift, Cade realized that he had expected to escort a little girl to Deer Lodge. Jack had not mentioned it, and it had never occurred to him that Elizabeth might, in fact, be a young lady. It suddenly made more sense now that Jack felt some urgency in exposing his daughter to Cornelia Kramer's influence. He was tempted to ask her age, but had enough sense to know that might be impertinent. It was impossible for him not to notice the obvious signs of womanhood, now that he had the opportunity to take a closer look. Telling himself that he'd best discourage thoughts of that nature, he brought his thoughts back to the job at hand. “When are you ladies gonna be ready to start out for Deer Lodge?”

“Oh, we've been ready for a couple of days,” Elizabeth replied, still admiring her father's gift. “We expected Daddy any day, so we can be ready to leave in the morning. It's a little late to start out today, and it's a fair day's ride to Mr. Kramer's ranch.”

Cade nodded. “Your dad said you knew the way to his place—said I didn't have to worry about that, so I reckon you know best. We need to rest the horses, anyway.”

 

Cade took care of the horses, turning them out to graze in the lush grass of the ravine bottom for the rest of the afternoon while he sat down near the barn to repair a frayed strap on one of the saddlebags. After an hour or so, Elizabeth came out to join him. “You know, Mr. Hunter—” she started.

“Cade,” he interrupted.

“Cade,” she corrected, “you're welcome to come into the house. I hope you don't think you have to stay in the barn.”

“Oh,” he stammered, “well, I had a few things I needed to fix out here.” In truth, he had not been sure of his place, whether he should be expected to follow them into the house or not.

She took a wooden bucket that was perched upside down on a corral post, and using it for a stool, sat down opposite him. “We're going to have some supper in a little while, as soon as the bread finishes baking. White Moon bakes the best Indian bread. If you need to wash up, I can lend you some soap, and you can wash in the stream.” She paused to give him an impish grin. “You do bathe, don't you?”

Cade blushed. “Pretty regular,” he said, “but I don't always have soap.” At that moment, he couldn't think of the last time he had seen a bar of soap. Glancing up to meet her gaze, he realized then that the girl was teasing him.

“How long have you been working for my dad?” she asked. “You don't look like you're much older than me.”

There it was again, he thought. In answer, he replied, “I'm older than I look—older than you, unless you're older than twenty-one.”

She gave him a big smile, then got to her feet and replaced the bucket. “I better go and help White Moon. I'll fetch that bar of soap if you want it.”

“All right,” he replied, “I reckon I could use a good scrub-bin', since I'm gonna be eatin' in the presence of ladies. I expect I'm totin' a fair amount of Montana on me.” Laughing, Elizabeth turned on her heel and returned to the cabin. Cade watched her all the way back.

In a few minutes time, she returned with a big yellow bar of lye soap and offered it to him. “It's getting kinda chilly to bathe in the stream, but I can heat a bucket of water for you.”

“Oh, no, ma'am,” he replied. “It won't be too cold.”

She shook her head and smiled. “All right, if you say so.” With that, she returned to the cabin. “Don't be long.”

After a swift bath in the chilly water of the stream, Cade tried his best to produce shaving lather with the lye soap, but enjoyed little success. He dragged his razor over his face anyway and managed to clear most of the brush—at least enough to leave his face feeling raw. He pulled his clean shirt out of his war bag and hurriedly dressed. Then he gratefully sought the warmth of the cabin. Elizabeth took a step backward and made an undisguised show of appraising the obvious improvements. She made no comment. She didn't have to. Her wide grin of amusement was all that was necessary. Her reaction caused his face to glow not entirely from the dull razor.

Supper that night was little more than a pot of beans, boiled with some salty side meat, coffee, and White Moon's pan bread, but to Cade, it had considerably more taste than the same fare on the cattle trail. Elizabeth explained that the difference was in the herbs that White Moon collected from the stream farther up the mountain. “Well, they're the best beans I've ever had,” Cade said, bringing a hint of a smile to the Indian woman's face.

While he finished his coffee, he looked around him to appraise the cabin Jack Walker had built for his wife and daughter. Small, but solidly built with well-chinked log walls and a stone fireplace, it looked capable of weathering winter's icy blasts. There were, in effect, three rooms—the largest, a kitchen—the other two were actually made from one room divided by a blanket wall to make two bedrooms. The only things that distinguished it from any miner's cabin were the woman's touches here and there in the form of curtains and knickknacks hung on the walls for decorations—and the cleanliness.

When supper was finished, Cade got up to excuse himself. “I thank you for the supper. I expect I'll get ready to turn in, and I'll see you folks in the mornin'.”

“You don't have to sleep outside,” Elizabeth said, looking surprised that he even considered it. “We've got plenty of room in here where it's warm.”

Cade was not comfortable with that idea. It was a small cabin, and he wasn't accustomed to sharing quarters with women. He wasn't even sure what kind of noises he made when he was asleep, and he had just finished a generous bowl of beans and fat meat. “Thank you, ma'am, but I expect I'd best sleep with the horses. I'll be warm enough. That way, I can kinda keep an eye on things. I'll see you in the mornin'.” He promptly took his leave.

“Suit yourself,” Elizabeth said as he carefully closed the door behind him. When he had gone, she turned to White Moon. “He's about the shyest man I've ever seen, but he's rather nice-looking when he gets cleaned up,” she said. The big woman fixed her with a scolding stare. “Well, he is kinda handsome,” Elizabeth said with a girlish giggle.

Her remark brought forth an admonishing grunt from White Moon. “That kind nothing but trouble,” she said. “Miz Kramer teach you how to be proper lady—get you a rich husband.”

“You mean like John Slater?” Elizabeth asked.

White Moon frowned. “No,” she replied emphatically. Then her expression lightened. “Maybe you meet some of Mr. Kramer's friends,” she said. “You never have to work then, and maybe you can take care of White Moon when she is old.”

Elizabeth laughed. “You're already old,” she teased. “I'll take care of you. I don't need a rich husband to do that.” Her thoughts drifted to John Slater then. He was rich. There was no doubt about that. She thought about the day she first met him in the general store in Butte. Not really handsome, but tall with long, dark hair worn to his shoulders, a thin mustache as his only facial hair. He could not really be considered a dashing figure, but there was a certain wild charm about him, even with the few rough edges so many of the newly rich miners displayed. He had at once asked her permission to call upon her. She had been surprised when he was undaunted by her telling him that she would soon be leaving, saying, “Then I'll call on you in Deer Lodge. I'm fixin' to buy a piece of land up that way.”

Flattered, she had not discouraged him. He appeared to be a few years older than she would have preferred, but not at all too old to consider.
He's not as handsome as Cade Hunter,
she thought, knowing that White Moon would most likely tell her that “handsome” wears off after the first winter, but money keeps you warm for the rest of your life.
Oh, well,
she thought,
I'm not about to marry either one of them.
Even so, she found that she was still thinking about the broad-shouldered young man long after he had gone outside.