Margaret Brownley (25 page)

The sky was deep blue with not a cloud in sight. The sun was warm, and the last of the snow around the newly built church had melted into pockets of mush. Wood planks were positioned so that Libby could walk without slipping or otherwise muddying her boots.

The church was already packed by the time Libby and Logan took their place in front of the pulpit.

While they waited for Pastor Genesis, Noel was passed like an offering plate from miner to miner. Everyone agreed that he looked right spiffy in his little buckskin outfit. Noel obviously loved all the attention. He cooed and gurgled, and the miners cooed and gurgled back.

When it was Big Sam’s turn, he held Noel with both hands, carefully cradling Noel’s head in the crook of his muscular arm. “Gee, gee, gaw, goo, goo.” The large man mimicked and Noel responded in kind.

“What’s the boy saying?” Sharkey asked.

Big Sam rocked Noel. “Don’t tell me you don’t understand baby talk.”

“Had no call to learn,” Sharkey admitted.

“He said, when I grow up I want to be just like Big Sam.”

McGuire laughed and slapped Big Sam on the back. “Since that little fellow’s got no teeth, he’s got a purty good start.”

This brought more laughter, and Noel was handed to Thornton, who made holding a baby look as unnatural as a bear giving birth to a lion.

“Will you look at this?” Big Sam scorned. “I’ve seen sacks of flour flung over the rumps of mules fare better.”

Libby watched the big black man demonstrate the proper procedure for holding a baby and held back the urge to laugh.

“Got to keep the baby’s center of gravity in line with the sun,” Big Sam explained with such conviction, no one questioned his competence.

Thinking the minister had arrived, Libby glanced at the doorway upon seeing someone enter the church. Instead, it was her Chinese friend, Macao. Libby threaded her way down the center aisle to greet him.

“Macao, I’m so happy you came.”

The Chinese man bowed graciously. “It’s very nice of you to invite me.”

Libby pointed to an empty spot just as Preacher Genesis arrived, his Bible tucked beneath his arm. Dressed in black flannel shirt and trousers, with a piece of white linen tucked neatly into his collar, Genesis managed to appear appropriately dressed for the occasion.

The preacher took his place at the front of the church and adjusted his spectacles as he waited for everyone’s attention.

When it took too long in coming, Big Sam stood up and yelled, “If you don’t close your traps I’ll close them for you!”

McGuire looked scandalized and quickly snatched Noel away from the big man’s arms. “Didn’t anyone ever tell ya how ta talk in church?”

Looking properly chastised, Big Sam addressed the crowd in the most God-fearing, reverent voice he could muster. “Can’t you see Pastor Genesis is waiting?”

McGuire handed Noel to Sharkey, who handed him to Shakespeare, who handed him to Beaker. At last Noel reached the front of the church and Logan’s waiting arms. Logan took his place beside Libby and they both faced the minister.

Libby glanced at Logan’s profile. The last time she stood in front of a preacher was on her wedding day. She had so many hopes and dreams that day, so many of them broken.  Would the dreams she had for her son fare better?

As if to sense her gaze on him Logan turned his head. His eyes locked with hers for a moment before they both looked away like two children caught doing something wrong.

It took only a few minutes for Genesis to dribble water over Noel’s head and announce him duly baptized. The infant looked startled before letting out an indignant cry.

“It’s all right, little fellow,” Logan said. He jostled the baby up and down, and in short order Noel stopped crying.

Libby smiled at Logan. “I told you that you had a way with babies.”

Logan smiled back. “Well now.”

After the ceremony, the men crowded around to congratulate Libby and take another look at the wondrous child who had fallen asleep in Logan’s arm.

Big Sam clapped to get everyone’s attention. “Now that we’ve got ourselves a properly baptized baby, this calls for a celebration.”

“Wait a minute.” McGuire waved a hand over his head. “Ah think we need ta talk ‘bout something first.” He waited for everyone to quiet down before he spoke his piece. “Now that we have a respectable church, Ah think it’s high time that the rest of the town took on more respectability.”

“We are r’spectable,” Sharkey said, looking offended.

Beaker concurred. “What could be more respectable than a mother and child, and now a church?”

The miners nodded in agreement and everyone began talking at once.

“Hear me out,” McGuire pleaded. He climbed onto one of the log pews so that he could be seen and heard by those in the back of the church. “Ah say that we tear down the town’s eyesores and put up proper buildings that will do our bairn proud.”

“It’ll take too long,” one miner pointed out. “We got gold to mine.”

Hap Montana piped up, his baldhead gleaming in the open doorway of the church. “It won’t take long if we work together.”

It was a startling statement, especially coming from a man whose chief occupation was to avoid work. A moment’s silence followed as everyone turned to see if the speaker was indeed, the owner of the sorry state of affairs known as the general store.

“There ain’t much else we can do,” Big Sam said. “I tried to mine my claim yesterday and the ground is still as hard as rock up there.”

“That’s my point,” McGuire said. “While we’re waiting for the ground ta thaw, we could be putting our time ta good use.”

A lively debate followed as to how best to go about improving the town. Finally, McGuire took the floor again. “It’s agreed then. We’ll begin first thing tomorrow. We’ll tear down the canvas building and construct permanent ones. Everyone agree?”

The miners let out a loud roar that made Noel’s eyes fly open momentarily before fluttering shut again. McGuire’s finger flew to his lips as he signaled the men to keep their voices low.

Choo-Choo stepped on the pew next to McGuire. “Fancy churches and buildings are all well and good. But that doesn't change that fact that you’re asking a young mother”—he waved at Libby and then turned back to the men—“to raise her son in a town named Deadman’s Gulch.”

Moe the bartender called through cupped hands. “What are you saying, Choo-Choo? You think we should change the name?”

Shakespeare stepped on the pew next to Choo-Choo. “A rose by any other name will still be a rose.”

Big Sam cursed. “What’s that suppose to mean?”

McGuire glared at the strapping black man. “Can’t ya talk properly in church?’

One of the miners in the back pew shouted out. “It means that you can call Deadman’s Gulch anything you want and it will still stink.”

This brought jeering protest from the others.

“Hold it!” McGuire raised his voice to be heard. He waited for quiet before he continued. “I think Choo-Choo has a good point. We can change the town all we want but unless we change the name, Libby isn’t going to want to raise her son here. Isn’t that right, Libby?”

Libby didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to hurt the men’s feelings. But nothing they did to the town was going to prevent her from leaving. Fortunately someone else spoke up, saving her the embarrassment of having to point this out.

“So what are we going to call the town? Roseville?”

“How about Lavender Gulch?’

McGuire waved for silence. “We’ve gonna do this right. Write down your suggestions. At the end of the week, we’ll post them in front of Hap’s place. When everyone’s had time ta give each name due consideration, we’ll take a vote.”

Much discussion followed, but in the end it was decided that Noel would have himself a proper town with a proper name—if only for a short time.

In the days to follow, Libby stood on her front porch and watched the canvassed structures up and down Main Street disappear. In no time at all wood frames rose in their stead. From early morning until late dusk the air vibrated with the sound of hammers and saws.

By consensus it was agreed that the men work on the general store first to allow Libby a proper place to purchase supplies. It took only a day and a half for the men to complete the simple, but functional square wooden building.

No sooner had the miners finished and moved on to the next project than Hap and Libby went to work readying the store for its grand opening.

Hap stood outside and supervised the placing of the sign on the false front, giving  as many orders as a general preparing for battle.

“To the right. More. More. To the left. Up. More. Down. Don’t you know what I mean when I say down?”

Big Sam, who was having a difficult time balancing himself on the roof, yelled, “For someone who thought nothing of keeping crackers in the same barrel as the horse liniment, you sure are getting picky.”

At last the sign was nailed in place, and everyone gaped up at it like lifers about to be pardoned.

Grinning like a schoolboy playing hooky, Hap held Noel in such a way that the little fellow could see the sign.

“See that, boy? Says ‘Hap Montana’s General Store.’” Noel gurgled and Hap nodded approvingly. “You’re right, boy. It’s the finest store this side of the Miss’ssippi.” Hap thought a moment. “I like that. The finest store this side of the Miss’ssippi. Anyone want to make me another sign to put in my window?”

Choo-Choo volunteered. “Not sure I know how to spell Miss’ssippi though.”

“Which one do you want on your sign?” Sharkey asked. “The state or the r’ver?”

Hap thought a moment. “The river.”

“I believe they’re both spelled the same,” Libby said tactfully.

“Is that so?” Sharkey asked, surprised.

“Yes, and I’ll be happy to help you with the spelling,” she said.

“Well, now, ain’t that thoughtful?” Hap handed Noel back to Libby. “Let’s get started.”

Libby followed Hap inside the newly built store. The hardwood floors gleamed beneath several coats of bear grease and resin. Wide-open shelves lined the walls and a fine crafted counter ran the length of the building.

Earlier that day, she helped Hap carry boxes of goods inside. They’d stacked the boxes up against the back wall until over half the floor space was filled. Next came the job of unpacking the merchandise.

Libby placed Noel on a blanket in front of the woodstove and donned an apron. Hap pointed to a row of shelves on the wall opposite the counter. “You can start stacking the tin goods over there.”

For the rest of the day and the following, Libby and Hap worked together to organize the store. It had been extremely difficult to convince Hap of the importance of keeping household goods separated from edibles. But once he finally saw the logic of it, they were able to finish the job with no further disagreement.

After the shelves had been neatly stacked, and the mining equipment hung on the back wall, Libby printed signs to hang around the store to help customers locate the various goods at a glance.

At last everything was ready. Hap set the cash box behind the counter, changing its location several times before he found one that suited him. The scale for weighing gold was set next to the cash box. He then puffed out his chest, strutted between the carefully arranged displays, and inspected every last item with a look of unbearable importance.

“Yep, as I said before. No finer store this side of the Miss’ssippi.” With a snap of his fingers he signaled for Libby to turn the sign in the window announcing the official opening of the store.

Irritated by his pretentious air, she was tempted to tell him to turn his own sign, but decided against it. The man was entitled to feel important. At least for the day.

Hap unlocked the door and with a great flourish swung it open. The miners waiting impatiently outside greeted him with hoots and hollers as they pushed their way inside.

Fearing that Noel would be trampled on, Libby quickly scooped him up in her arms.

The miners stocked up on tobacco and coffee and exclaimed at how easy it was to find what they wanted now that everything was arranged in proper order and carefully labeled.

The men were a bit startled to find Hap following them around, watching their every move. Pity the poor man who made the mistake of picking something up to look at it and who didn’t put it back precisely how he found it. Hap was on him like a cat on a field mouse. His face stern, he pointed a finger at the object in question until the hapless miner had carried it back to its proper place.

Normally a soft-spoken man, Hap took to shouting out orders like a general under attack. “Label out, you idiot. And you, Shakespeare, go back over there and straighten that harness.”

Sharkey, particularly, took offense. “You’d think the man would be grateful for our bus’ness.”

Libby had her hands full trying to soothe the men’s ruffled feathers. “He’s naturally proud of his new shop. Give him time, he’ll settle down.”