Page 36 of The Prospector's Only Prospect
Another ran to catch up to her as she was walking to see Yeller. “I found these feathers. They’re pretty. I thought you might like them.”
“They are pretty,” she assured him, but she had no use for feathers. “Thank you,” she said, bemused, and carried on.
With the day sunny and warm, and Harley and Nettie skipping alongside her so cheerfully, and friendly faces waving at her, Marigold felt quite nice. Accepted.
Dear Pearl. Forget everything I wrote last. I think I could feel at home here.
As she arrived at the storehouse, Virgil came out of the office.
“Papa!” Nettie called, smiling and waving.
He halted, then veered toward them, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. We need milk, and the children liked the cornbread so much the other night, I said I would pick up meal and make it again tonight.”
“You can tell Levi in the morning what to pick up.” He caught Harley and lifted him before he could throw himself against Virgil’s dirty pant leg.
“I know, but it’s a nice day for a walk.” Also, she needed to borrow a baking pan from Gristle and ask him to bake the bread in his oven.
Virgil grunted, perhaps not as enamored with midday strolls as she was, but she imagined he walked several miles a day, checking in with all the crews and working alongside them.
“Peas?” Harley asked, digging into Virgil’s shirt pocket.
“That cupboard is bare, son.” He worked his own finger into the crook of Harley’s neck, making the tot shrug and giggle as he squirmed into Virgil’s shoulder.
“Papa, who’s that?” Nettie asked.
“Hmm?” Virgil’s relaxed expression shifted to his daughter.
At that moment, there was a short, piercing whistle. Emmett appeared from seeming thin air, saying, “I’ll get Levi.”
Before Marigold could turn to look, Virgil had thrust Harley at her, his features grim.
“Get the children into the office.Now.” He herded them in there while Gristle gave a clatter on the dinner bell.
Marigold only had time for a quick glance but spotted two men on horseback coming in from the direction of where the Ute camp had been, galloping with purpose.
Inside the two-room office, Ira was at the table, hurrying to put away scales and fold the pile of gold dust into the oilcloth he’d laid out as a work area. Ira was tall, quiet-spoken, and looked younger than the rest. He used his knuckle to push his wire-rimmed spectacles up his nose as he asked, “Who is it?”
“Dunno.” Virgil took a rifle off the rack behind the door.
“Fuck,” Ira said as Virgil commenced loading. Then, “Sorry, Missus Davis.”
As Virgil left, Emmett entered, pushing Levi in ahead of him. He shut the door and pressed Levi toward the bunkroom at the back. “Get up on that bunk and open the vent. Let me know if you see anyone sneaking up that way.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What can I do?” Marigold asked, feeling helpless and useless and frightened. Her pulse was pounding so hard, it drowned out the sound of the approaching hooves.
“Keep the little one quiet.” Ira tucked the wrapped gold into a crate on the floor, then threw a dirty shirt over top.
“Of course.” She picked up Harley and gave Nettie a reassuring smile, hugging the girl into her hip.
…
As the two strangers galloped closer, Virgil kept his rifle aimed at the sky but had his finger on the trigger as he positioned himself between the riders and the office.
They slowed as they saw him and sat taller, looking around the valley as they kept trotting forward. They didn’t look as though they were signaling anyone, so that was something.
