the animal reluctantly left his feast and jumped to the wagon bed. Quillan kicked the fire out in the snow and ground the last of the coals into the muddy circle.
He unfastened the rough lock for the horses to pull the short distance to the next downward slope; then he climbed into the wagon where Carina waited silently. He took up the reins and urged the horses forward.
Between shoveling and rough-locking, it was dusk before the lights of Crystal came into sight. The blizzard had been negligible as mountain storms go. Soon the road would be snow-packed until May, each storm building onto the base already laid. But for now, the road was mostly clear as they neared the Diamond of the Rockies, which was more a scar and blight than any gem.
Carina was half collapsed against him with her arms around the dog. She must have stayed awake last night while he slept to be so worn-out now. But then, she wasn’t used to the rigor of sitting on the box all these hours. And she’d toiled alongside him for some of it.
His conscience weighed as heavily as the hardtack and jerky he’d forced down for supper. She hadn’t been hungry. Quillan glanced over, then turned away. He didn’t want to be mean, didn’t want to hurt her. He just wanted her to see the way it was.
He half carried her into the house over her protests. He didn’t want her help to unload, didn’t want her working beside him. During his first half dozen trips inside the door with her supplies, she stood in the center of the room and watched. The next she was curled fully clothed on the bed. When the last of it was deposited in the cold back corner, he tugged a blanket over her and went to sleep in his wagon in the livery. By morning he’d be gone.
SEVEN
A dream worth undertaking must be nurtured. But I worry. Crystal has not been kind to my dreams.
—Carina
“GOOD MORNING, MR. MAKEPEACE.”
“Good morning to you, Mrs. Shepard.” Alex Makepeace removed the derby from his head. “Your enterprise is progressing nicely, I see.”
Carina smiled her satisfaction at the new walls that connected her home to Mae’s and formed a fine long room behind her own. “It’s finished except for the fireplace and, of course, the tables and chairs.”
“I heard the men worked night and day like gnomes.”
Carina laughed. “Joe Turner says they can’t wait for their wages in trade. The sooner they finish, the sooner I start cooking.”
“Sounds reasonable. Especially as the fare in other places tends toward . . . monotonous.”
Carina laughed again. It was easy to laugh with Mr. Makepeace. “Eh, what I make will not be monotonous—I promise you that.”
He appraised her cheerfully. “No, I believe you. Any word from your husband?”
She felt her spirits sag but refused to show it. “Communication is difficult up here. He’ll come when he comes.” He’d left before she woke the morning after their trip to Fairplay. She didn’t know to where or how long he’d be gone. For all she knew, he’d never come back.
“Well, I was hoping to discuss some things with him. Regarding the mine.”
Carina hesitated only a moment. “Mr. Makepeace . . . which is my husband’s mine?”
“Which?” He turned. “You mean you don’t know?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t know he had one until you came. He keeps his business to himself.”
“Well, I . . .” He smiled. “Would you like to see it?”
“I would.” Carina unwrapped her arms. “Let me get my coat.” She hurried inside. The coat hung on the row of new hooks along the wall by her bed. She tugged it free and shrugged it on, thinking of Quillan. Every time the fur-lined collar touched her neck, she thought of him buying it for her.
She sighed. There was no sense pining. While he was gone she must make the best of it. Anyway, it was less painful than when he was there. She pushed open the door and rejoined Mr. Makepeace, her curiosity piqued. They walked to the livery, passing through the crowd
He unfastened the rough lock for the horses to pull the short distance to the next downward slope; then he climbed into the wagon where Carina waited silently. He took up the reins and urged the horses forward.
Between shoveling and rough-locking, it was dusk before the lights of Crystal came into sight. The blizzard had been negligible as mountain storms go. Soon the road would be snow-packed until May, each storm building onto the base already laid. But for now, the road was mostly clear as they neared the Diamond of the Rockies, which was more a scar and blight than any gem.
Carina was half collapsed against him with her arms around the dog. She must have stayed awake last night while he slept to be so worn-out now. But then, she wasn’t used to the rigor of sitting on the box all these hours. And she’d toiled alongside him for some of it.
His conscience weighed as heavily as the hardtack and jerky he’d forced down for supper. She hadn’t been hungry. Quillan glanced over, then turned away. He didn’t want to be mean, didn’t want to hurt her. He just wanted her to see the way it was.
He half carried her into the house over her protests. He didn’t want her help to unload, didn’t want her working beside him. During his first half dozen trips inside the door with her supplies, she stood in the center of the room and watched. The next she was curled fully clothed on the bed. When the last of it was deposited in the cold back corner, he tugged a blanket over her and went to sleep in his wagon in the livery. By morning he’d be gone.
SEVEN
A dream worth undertaking must be nurtured. But I worry. Crystal has not been kind to my dreams.
—Carina
“GOOD MORNING, MR. MAKEPEACE.”
“Good morning to you, Mrs. Shepard.” Alex Makepeace removed the derby from his head. “Your enterprise is progressing nicely, I see.”
Carina smiled her satisfaction at the new walls that connected her home to Mae’s and formed a fine long room behind her own. “It’s finished except for the fireplace and, of course, the tables and chairs.”
“I heard the men worked night and day like gnomes.”
Carina laughed. “Joe Turner says they can’t wait for their wages in trade. The sooner they finish, the sooner I start cooking.”
“Sounds reasonable. Especially as the fare in other places tends toward . . . monotonous.”
Carina laughed again. It was easy to laugh with Mr. Makepeace. “Eh, what I make will not be monotonous—I promise you that.”
He appraised her cheerfully. “No, I believe you. Any word from your husband?”
She felt her spirits sag but refused to show it. “Communication is difficult up here. He’ll come when he comes.” He’d left before she woke the morning after their trip to Fairplay. She didn’t know to where or how long he’d be gone. For all she knew, he’d never come back.
“Well, I was hoping to discuss some things with him. Regarding the mine.”
Carina hesitated only a moment. “Mr. Makepeace . . . which is my husband’s mine?”
“Which?” He turned. “You mean you don’t know?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t know he had one until you came. He keeps his business to himself.”
“Well, I . . .” He smiled. “Would you like to see it?”
“I would.” Carina unwrapped her arms. “Let me get my coat.” She hurried inside. The coat hung on the row of new hooks along the wall by her bed. She tugged it free and shrugged it on, thinking of Quillan. Every time the fur-lined collar touched her neck, she thought of him buying it for her.
She sighed. There was no sense pining. While he was gone she must make the best of it. Anyway, it was less painful than when he was there. She pushed open the door and rejoined Mr. Makepeace, her curiosity piqued. They walked to the livery, passing through the crowd
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