Page 26 of The Prospector's Only Prospect
When she went outside to stoke the fire and fetch water for porridge, she found the bucket by the door was full. Flames were licking at fresh wood in the firepit, and the pot that hung over it held water and oats that were already thickening.
A small sigh escaped her. How was a man so gruff and objectionable also this thoughtful?
She hugged her shawl around her, moving to where she could see men striding between cookhouse and outhouse. The sun was only touching the highest peaks on one side of the valley, but it landed on some leaves, illuminating them with a bright yellow glow. The air was morning crisp and rich with the scent of pine and earth. The river trickled musically, and right in this moment, Marigold found this to be a very peaceful and pretty place.
“Marigold?” Levi came out of the cabin. “I thought you were going to the john, but you didn’t come back.”
“I’m here.” She turned to see him hugging himself against the morning chill. “I was going to make breakfast, but your father did it already, so I was looking at the valley.” She opened her shawl. “I’ll have to make you a shirt for these cool mornings.”
“Leyohna made me a vest. She said she’ll make us boots for winter before she leaves.” He stood in front of her, facing out, backing into her as she closed her shawl across his front.
“Too bad we’re not up there where the sun is already shining.” She pointed with the corner of her shawl.
“That’s where Pa and the men lived when they got here.”
“Oh?”
“Uh-huh.” He nodded. “Pa said he wants to build a house up there one day. For now, we have to live here, but we’re going to make it a proper house. Pa bought a stove, and me and Nettie help him make bricks at the clay pit for the chimney, then Ira cooks them in his fire. We’re going to make it bigger, too. That’s what these logs are for.” He used his elbow to point. “After we build the extra room, he’ll show Nettie and me how to plug the cracks with mud and straw. It’s okay to be drafty in summer, but not winter.”
“True.”
“He said at Christmas we can go up there and have a hot bath.”
“How?”
“There’s a cold creek and a hot one. Pa and Uncle Owen and the rest of the men dammed it into a pool. Tom helped them make a wickiup to live in. Pa says they would have all died if they didn’t have the hot water to sit in. He said icicles were hanging from all the trees and off their beards even.”
“Goodness.” Marigold wondered if Leyohna’s family wanted company on their trip south.
“I should eat and let the critters out. Pa said you should get milk today.”
“I will. Do you want this?” She offered her shawl as he stepped away.
“No, thanks. I’m not cold.” He walked to the john, and she had to wonder if he’d stood with her for warmth or human closeness.
Either way, he’d caused her to look at this valley with new eyes. It was hardship and challenge and isolation, but it also held glimmers of potential.
A sense of buoyancy arrived, something she hadn’t felt in so long, she didn’t immediately know what it was. It might have been hope.
…
Marigold was used to being notorious. For several years now, her reputation had been preceding her. Therefore, it was no surprise to her that people knew her name as she walked with Nettie and Harley to the cookhouse.
The surprise was the way men tipped their caps and said, “Howdy, Mrs. Davis,” in a way that sounded pleasant and friendly.
When the thin, gnarled man scraping dishes at the cookhouse saw her coming down the aisle between the two nearly empty tables, he set his work aside and swiped his hands on his long apron.
“Mrs. Davis.” He spoke her name with far too much awe and deference, as though he was meeting a playwright or the First Lady. She almost thought he was mocking her, but he flushed so hard his scalp reddened beneath his thin white hair.
She smiled and held out her hand. “Hello. You must be Mr. Gristle?”
“Just Gristle, ma’am.” He stepped forward so fast he kicked a stray tin can into rattling across the gravel floor. He barely glanced at it before giving her hand an enthused shake. “You can call me John, if you want to,” he said bashfully, smiling with closed lips in what she took to be an attempt to hide his missing teeth.
“Thank you, John. I’m told you’re the man to ask if one needs empty potato sacks.”
His face went an even deeper shade of red at her use of his name. “I got four right here.” He practically stumbled over his feet getting to a crate. “How many you need?”
“Two will do,” she decided as she eyed them. “I’m making a mattress tick for Levi. He only comes up to here on me.” She set her hand under her chin.
