Page 43 of The Prospector's Only Prospect
“Will you be very disgusted with me if I admit to being nervous that bandits will come while you’re gone?” Marigold asked in a small voice.
“First of all, most know to keep their misbehaving over in Horsefly and not bring it here. If they do, Owen is a helluva longshot, and Emmett’s fast with a pistol. Stoney doesn’t like fighting, but he knows how. Bing Sun doesn’t look dangerous, butIwouldn’t creep up on him.”
“What about Ira?”
“Ira was raised by pacifists. He’ll do anything to avoid violence but isn’t above it if it becomes necessary. I’ll tell you what, though. He’s not afraid to die, and that unnerves anyone who threatens him.”
“Tom’s still away?”
“Yes.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“Did Tom take gold with him?”
“I could tell you, Marigold, but then I’d have to kill you and explain myself to your sister. Who’d wash my kids’ clothes after that?”
She snorted. “You couldn’t just cut out my tongue?”
“Who would read to them? No, I’m afraid your curiosity will have to remain unsatisfied.” As the words left him, he heard how suggestive that sounded and gruffly changed the subject. “I’ll take the mules and the small wagon this time. That cuts time off my travel. I’ll be gone three nights, tops.”
“The children will miss you anyway.”
He was still standing in the shadows, which was probably why he admitted, “It bothers me when they think I won’t come back.”
“You’re the only father they have.” She removed the kerchief she wore over her hair and left it in her lap while she began removing pins and combing her fingers through the tresses. She turned her head so she could better reach as she broke her hair into three sections and began to weave it together.
Let me.
He cleared his throat, realizing he’d left the silence to draw out, and strained to remember what they had been talking about.
“They had one in Albert. Far as I can tell.” He was bothered by the fact they’d looked to another man to be their father. Bothered that they’d lost Albert, too. “Clara wouldn’t have let him near them if she didn’t think him a good and decent man. What I am is all they have.”
“You’re still miles better at fathering than my uncle was.” In the dying light, he saw a sad smile touch her lips. “He had nearly two decades to learn but never really got there. Which isn’t to say he was cruel or resentful, but he didn’t welcome us. He did his duty, paid for our boarding school—with Father’s money,” she added as an aside. “He would send us a letter a few times a year, and he set aside funds for when we married. We had to use most of Pearl’s for my legal fees, which is why I encouraged her fiancé to pursue her—”
Marigold broke off and pushed her mouth to the side.
Virgil folded his arms, sighing with impatience. “So this suitor of hers didn’t justhappento come courtin’ because he heard she had another offer. Damn it, Marigold, you had me wanting to cut out my own tongue for what I said earlier. Now you’re admitting you arranged her a marriage so my ticket was free for you to snap up. Youaresneaky.”
“No. I wanted her to marry Hiram and refuse the ticket. Some of that was selfishness, since I didn’t want to be left there alone, but I wound up needing a…situation.” She used her kerchief to tie off the tail of her hair. “The point I was making is that my uncle is a decent man but lacks warmth. You’re far superior to him as a father.”
Virgil snorted at what sounded like blatant flattery being used to temper the fact he’d caught her in another lie. It wouldn’t work. He wasnotdecent, and he had about as much natural warmth as the mountaintops in January. As for making an effort at fathering?
He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “I keep thinking that being soft doesn’t do them any favors. The world is a terrible place, and they need to be prepared for it.”
“They lost their mother, Virgil. They know how cruel life is.”
He had to nod at that unpalatable truth, but his chest burned like he was breathing smoke. This was why he found her so frustrating. She wasn’t always honest, but when she was, it struck sharp as lightning, illuminating everything inside him.
“Is it so hard to let them know you want them?” She folded her hands in her lap. “That you care about them?”
“Yes,” he said with self-deprecation. “That’s why I haven’t done it.”
“Are you telling me you don’t trustthem? They’re children. They don’t know how to be manipulative unless someone teaches them to be that way.”
“It’s myself I don’t trust,” he admitted reluctantly. He was tempted to kick his feet, they felt so close to a fire. “I don’t know how to be a father. Not a good one.” He hovered in the shadows, trying to hide from the truth same as he’d tried to hide from the man.
