Claim: A Novel of Colorado (The Homeward Trilogy) by Lisa T. Bergren

“I haven’t seen him for days.”
    “He left,” she said simply.
    “To hunt?”
    “He’ll return when he decides to,” she said, ignoring his question.
    “I see.” He shifted nervously, from one foot to the other, wondering what she needed to say to him.
    “I don’t want to sell to those men,” she said.
    He shoved down the flash of anger, the rash words that leaped to his mouth. “W–why?”
    She turned and crossed her arms in front of her. “They offered you five times what they offered me. They cannot be trusted.”
    “So, we won’t accept their offer unless they give you the same amount.”
    “They won’t do that, Nic,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him. A portion of her long brown hair fell down her back. Nic found himself staring at it.
    “Why are you so certain of that?”
    “Because I’ve lived here for years. I know these men. Their kind.”
    “Rich men? Professional miners?”
    “White men.”
    “Wh–white men?” He stared at her in confusion.
    She crossed the few feet between them and tapped his chest with her finger. “Are you blind? I am a half-breed,” she spit out, “as those gentlemen of the Dolly Mae so kindly put it, lucky to get anything at all.”
    Nic stared down at her. All at once he could see the high cheekbones, the wide arc of her dark brows, the brown lashes he assumed were her French heritage. Sinopa .
    She could see the recognition in his eyes. “Sinopa is my half brother. We shared the same father.”
    “And that is why he watches over you?”
    “If not for him …” She turned and took a few steps away from Nic.
    “Sabine?” He dared to take a couple of steps after her.
    She gazed at the valley. Far below, smoke rose in serpentine tails from the small cottages that marked the edge of town. “I did not tell Mr. LaCrosse of my heritage. When he found out, he took to beating me. First, once in a while, for burning the bread or not having a meal ready for him when he came out of the mine.”
    “Then later, more often,” he finished for her.
    She nodded, chin in hand, still looking away. “I was terribly thin, bruised, my arm in a sling when Sinopa found me.” She dared to look at him then. Her look was that of a little girl lost. He fought off the urge to fold her into his arms. Instead he turned away, hand on the back of his head. How many times had he struck out in rage? Not seeing a face, a body, only a means to relinquish the fury inside? If he ever married, would he put his own bride at risk?
    Never. Never .
    He could feel her eyes on him, and slowly he turned. “Your husband died then?”
    “Disappeared. He was never seen again.”
    Nic looked to the ground. “And you’ve lived up here, all alone, since then?”
    “Other than Peter and Everett, yes. Peter was a good neighbor to me. They moved up here and began working the claim just after … Sinopa arrived.”
    Nic nodded.
    She shook her head, lifted her chin, and looked him in the eye. “I’m a different person than I once was. Which is why I cannot sell to these men. They look at me with the same disdain my husband had in his eyes. To them, I am little more than a dog.”
    “I understand.” After his years in the ring, and as part of a crew aboard a ship, he had seen for himself how a man could be belittled, judged, and found to be lacking.
    “Could you consider it?” He dipped his head and met her eyes, seeing the hurt that lingered there. “For Everett? I can handle all the negotiations so you never needed speak to them again. Or would it not be delightful to see them squirm?” He gave her a wink. “To force them to pay you what’s right? Nothing hurts men like these more than to let go of their precious money.”
    She let a small smile tease the corners of her lips.
    “Why not take your share and move to wherever you wish, build a fine house? Somewhere with a view that rivals this—” he gestured outward—“but a place that is a little easier to get to come