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At some point during the long and cold night, her mood turned dark and brooding as she speculated the reasons that Lucky had gone to town. In the past, he’d always made a list first, and asked if she needed anything. For whatever reason, probably because she missed his warmth in the bed beside her, she took to wondering about the women who had traveled on the Mary Jane. Similar ones lived in Bittersweet, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Lucky had visited any of them.
* * *
The bright sunshine when she stepped out of the tent the next morning did little to brighten her mood. The rain, having fallen for days, had washed deep grooves into the hill the tent sat upon and had completely dissolved the neat set of steps Lucky had shoveled into the dirt for her to step upon while trekking to and from the river.
A glance across the river brought about a wave from Albert, Abe and Tim—all standing knee-deep in mud. “Good morning!”
She waved in reply and went about feeding the chickens and looking for any other damage. A large puddle had pooled on one side of the outhouse. The other side, though, still held the large pile of dirt from when Lucky had dug the necessary hole.
A sigh left her chest. As outhouses went, this one was rather charming. He’d built it large enough to also accommodate a washstand, where he shaved every morning. The bench itself, which held the required round hole cut out of the wood, was along the back wall. Lucky had even made a cover to put over the opening when not in use.
He’d also pulled up the first floorboard just inside the door for her to stash their gold beneath, claiming no one would look for it there.
No one might look for it, but the rain might have dislodged it. Lucky needed gold. Every last ounce. With mud clinging to her boots and more building up with each step she took, Maddie reached the outhouse. There was an opening cut high in one wall, so the space wasn’t completely dark when she shut the door behind her, yet she lit the lamp hanging on the wall, knowing she’d need it to thoroughly inspect the area beneath the floor.
She lifted the board and leaned it against the bench before unhooking the lantern and holding it over the opening. Some of the loose dirt from the pile had washed under the foundation and she bent down, scooping it aside to count the bags.
All ten little canvas sacks she’d sewn to hold their gold were still there. Thankful, she stood and set the lamp on the washstand to wipe the mud off her hand with the other one. That was when her heart shot into her throat.
* * *
Spending the night in town hadn’t helped Cole one bit. If anything, he was more worried that Maddie might follow through with her threat. Bittersweet was a rough town, full of saloons and cutthroats. No place for a woman to spend the winter. Neither was their camp. Or one she might attempt to build farther upriver. He was more convinced of that after talking with Truman. The shop owner said last year the snow was so deep no one had traversed in or out of town for three months.
Provisions had run low, and some folks had taken to eating their mules. Cole’s travels had taken him many places, but he hadn’t encountered anything like that and didn’t want to.
All in all, he was thinking harder about leaving, heading south. He’d have to convince Maddie of it, and didn’t know how he might manage that. Competing for a woman’s favors had never been something he’d considered before, but he had to conclude, fighting another man would be a hell of a lot easier than fighting gold. Especially where Maddie was concerned.
There was another thought he hated—that of failing his family. Staying meant gold. Leaving meant Maddie would be safe. He still had enough money to travel to Seattle and wait until Trig arrived—if his uncle didn’t take too long.
It was early in the day when he moored the boat at Jack’s place. He’d only gone to town because of what he’d said to Maddie, and he hadn’t purchased anything. Therefore, after conversing with Jack long enough to be courteous, Cole headed upriver. The other man said she’d been fine last night, but Cole wanted to know how she was this morning. Last night had been the loneliest of his life.
Rounding the last bend in the river before their camp, he saw Maddie working the sluice box, and his heart hit the bottom of his boots. As badly as he needed gold, he knew if she’d found another small vein, convincing her to leave would be next to impossible.
The flapping of wings overhead and Homer squawking, “Lucky, Lucky,” caused Maddie to look up. After slowing the stream of water flowing into her box with a flat stone, she stood and, using her arms for balance, walked along the large boulders separating the Long Tom from the river’s edge. Her black hair, which she usually tied back or tucked inside a hat, flowed down her back, twisting and curling in the wind that was also whipping her skirt around her ankles. Cole, watching, felt a hitch happen inside him. He hadn’t forgotten how beautiful she was, would never be able to. It was the other thing he noticed.
