Page 50 of The Prospector's Only Prospect
“What did she mean about sitting in on meetings? Does she know about constitutions?” Ira asked. “Because I don’t want to vote on something I don’t understand. If she could explain it to us—”
“Si.” Stoney leaped on that. “I don’t read English. Tell her we’ll pay her to help us read it when it gets printed in the newspaper.”
Bing Sun nodded. “She can tell us about lady rights, too. She wants to be heard. We should listen.”
“You’re our talker,” Virgil snarled at Owen. “Yougo talk to her.”
“About what? I wasn’t paying attention.”
Jesus Christ. Virgil looked to the sky.
“Fine. I’ll order bloomers for the lot of us. Nettie can leave for Washington soon as we finish reading out the minutes from the temperance committee.”
…
Marigold had been so distracted by Virgil’s arrival and the subsequent meeting, she had forgotten the things she’d meant to pick up from Yeller. That meant she would have to go back to the storehouse, and she would rather remove her eyeteeth with a shard of broken glass.
She was saving the bear jerky for winter but decided she could use a tiny nip of it to flavor a bean stew. After last week’s rain, she had picked wild mushrooms that Leyohna had told her were safe and set them to dry, but she would forage more as soon as it rained again.
What she wouldn’t do was have another cry. What was the point? Despair might float around her like a wraith, but giving in to it had never once improved her situation.
It was just so frustrating that Virgil seemed to like her one minute—had kissed her, even—yet dismissed her the next. It was hurtful. Infuriating and lowering.
A firm step outside the door was her only warning before he walked in.
Her heart leaped into the cloud of dejection swirling around her. She felt clawed apart and left in tatters. She defensively folded her arms and lifted her chin, unnerved by the fact the children weren’t with him. They were a buffer she could really use right now.
After a long silence where he studied her, the shelf behind her, and the table before her, he folded his own arms.
“What’s that?” He flickered his gaze to the rock she had pulled from weighing down her pocket and left on the corner of the table.
“It’s called a wishing stone. You wish someone would leave you alone, then you throw it at their head.”
His mouth tightened. “I am not responsible for all men, Marigold. I won’t be hung for their crimes.”
“Youare, though.” Her temper flared again. “Maybe you’re not responsible for their actions, but you lead all of these men.” She waved toward the river where his workers shoveled gravel into sluice boxes all day. “You set an example, and you’re their voice when you go to Denver. Don’t pretend you don’t have influence.”
“I’m still only one man. I have to pick my battles, and they have to be battles I can win.” His scarred cheek ticked. “Otherwise, I lose what influence I’ve managed to gain.”
“Yes, I know how that works. I tell myself every day that I should have put up with Ben’s cheating because I was never going to win that battle. At least I would still have a place in society there. It’s been proven to me again and again that self-respect is far less important than what others think of me. I should have thrown myself into the Delaware when I had the chance!”
“Don’t say things like that,” he ordered in a grumble.
“See?” she cried, waving her hand at him. She blinked past the hot tears gathering in her eyes. “It’s not even allowed for a woman to decide how shefeels.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He came forward so quickly, she fell back a step.
His mouth tightened. He looked down. “I don’t like to hear that he hurt you so bad he nearly broke you. Makes me want to crack his skull in.”
He picked up the rock, turned it over, then set it aside again. When his eyes came up, he met her gaze straight on. His voice was grave enough to still everything inside her.
“I wish I could tell you why life is worth living. I’ve struggled with that question myself. Life is pain and hardship and scrapping over the few bones that are out there. For what? Shiny chunks of rock? I wish to hell you were the kind of woman who only wanted a fancy hat or a lace parasol. I could give you those things and we might be able to live a happy life, but you want more, Marigold. I understand that because I do, too. I respect you for it, but it’s not in my power to give you what you want, and now it’s one more pebble in my boot.”
“Why would you care what I want?” He had every right to fire her for insubordination after her outburst in front of everyone.
“Since when have I been able to ignore you?” he asked grouchily.
