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“That’s fine,” Maddie said to Homer. “I don’t need him to find gold.”
“Don’t need him,” Homer repeated.
Pleased the bird agreed with her, Maddie picked up her shovel and gold pan and headed for the water. Unlike Lucky, she’d searched for gold every day. As of yet, she hadn’t found so much as a glitter, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t here. She just needed to look harder. A sluice box would help, too, but when she’d gathered the hammer and nails, along with some of the hewn lumber, Lucky had confiscated them, stating he’d build a sluice box when everything else was done.
“At the rate he’s going, we’ll be too old to pan gold then,” she told Homer. “Some partner he’s made. Seems to me finding gold is last on his list.”
The bird squawked and Maddie nodded, pretending Homer was agreeing with her. “You’re a better partner than him.” That of course wasn’t true, nor what was really bothering her. Lucky not talking to her meant other things weren’t happening, either. Things she wanted to happen. Him holding her at night. Kissing her.
Homer squawked again. Though she grinned, Maddie kept her eyes on the riverbank, looking for something, anything, to tell her where to dig, anything to keep her mind off Lucky.
The ground here was different than in Colorado, and she wished for the hundredth time that Smitty was with her. He’d know where to dig, always had. He said he couldn’t describe it, how he sensed the difference in the ground, knew where the gold was hiding.
Smitty had said she had it, too, that inner sense, but she’d panned dozens of scoops of riverbed and hadn’t seen a hint of gold. Not in the rocks, sand or dirt. “What am I missing, Smitty?” she asked softly. “I really thought this was the spot.”
A flash or flicker happened out of the corner of her eye and she glanced around. There was nothing out of the ordinary, and she deduced it must have been a bird flying overhead. But it happened again as she dropped her gaze to the water.
This time, she scanned things more intently, and when it happened again, she pinpointed where it came from. Several yards ahead of her and a couple feet out from the shoreline. The water was cold, and she didn’t relish standing in it, but that was what miners had to do—get wet—so she stepped into the river, keeping her eyes on the spot she’d seen glistening brighter than the rest of the water.
The current was strong, and the water up to her knees when she arrived. It was a rock, a boulder, really, the top of it just beneath the water. Sunlight caught on the wet stone as the waves washed over it. Disappointed, Maddie stuck the blade of her shovel into the riverbed to lean against the handle. The shovel went down farther than she anticipated and she almost lost her footing.
The water was clear, showing that the base of the boulder was surrounded by sand rather than rocks. She shifted, examining the rock and the sand more closely. There was a whirlpool, a miniature one, and the sand at the base was streaked with black.
Maddie’s heart started racing.
Chapter Seven
Cole thought about telling Maddie to get out of the water, but it would be a waste of breath. She was stubborn and set on finding gold. Which was the reason they were here, so he couldn’t fault her on that. Besides, he could see her. She was close enough that if she fell, he could make it to her side immediately.
He’d start mining as soon as their camp was set up. That had become his goal when she’d told him she’d never had a home with a floor. Such a little thing, one he’d never thought of before, yet to her, it had been significant. Tears had misted her eyes, and at that moment, he’d wanted to make her happy more than he wanted anything else.
Almost.
He wanted her. In a way a man wants a woman, and that want had grown so strong he no longer dared hold her at night. Working, physical labor that left him exhausted, was how he managed to still sleep in the same bed as her. He made sure when his head hit the pillow he was so exhausted nothing could keep him awake.
Try as he might, it wasn’t working all that well. He’d taken it a step further, too. Ignoring her again. Which was like ignoring the sun.
He pulled his gaze off her to resume hanging the door on the front of the outhouse with leather hinges, but her swift movements had his gaze snapping right back. She’d scooped up a shovelful of riverbed and was hurrying to the shoreline, where her pan and Homer waited.
