Page 64 of The Prospector's Only Prospect
“Where?” Virgil barked.
Nettie shrank into her hunched shoulders, eyes wide. “When you showed me and Levi that time.”
That had been months ago, when they had first arrived and he was trying to help them understand why he lived here.
Fuck. He pushed his hand into his hair and glanced back into the cabin, now in disarray after he’d searched it. He looked to Marigold and saw resentment. Hurt.
“I have to get back to work,” he muttered. “Let me know when you find it.”
She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t even blink as she kept her malevolent gaze on him while he mounted the horse.
He looked away first, not wanting to accuse her, butit wasn’t here.
…
He thought she had stolen from him. That was as clear as today’s bright blue sky. All the deliciousness of last night turned sour and ugly. His mistrust hurt her so badly, Marigold could hardly see through the stinging tears that sheened her eyes. She could hardly speak past the lump in her throat.
It took all her might to conjure a smile for Nettie and Harley and pretend their day was the same as every other one. They washed the breakfast dishes in the bucket before they doused the fire. Then they took the laundry to the stream, but not before conducting a second, thorough search of the cabin.
“You’re sure you didn’t see it?” Marigold asked Nettie several times. “Your papa thinks it fell out of his pocket while he was changing last night.”
It would have been dark, but there were no floorboards for it to fall through. The dirt floor would have dulled any thump it made. Still, the cabin was small, the furniture sparse. There simply weren’t that many places for a nugget to roll into or get lodged. Marigold turned everything upside down that she could but came up empty-handed.
Virgil thought she was light-fingered. She was positively suffocated by that thought.
She spent a distressing day wondering what would happen if they didn’t find it. When Levi came home as she was preparing dinner, she asked him if he’d seen it when he rose this morning.
“Pa already asked me. I didn’t see it anywhere.”
With a despairing sigh, Marigold went about her work, hoping Virgil would have cooled off enough by the time he returned home. She wouldn’t steal anything from anyone, least of all him. Surely after what they’d done last night, he trusted her a little?
He arrived home more sullen than she’d ever seen him. He was civil to the children but only asked her, “Find it?”
“No.” She had even searched near the logs where they had trysted.
His mouth tightened, and the air in her chest grew thin and hot. Acrid.
They didn’t exchange another word until the children were in bed. Marigold hesitated to go back out to sit with him, she was so wounded and angry. And frightened.
All she could think of was that moment she’d sat with her attorney after the court granted her divorce. She’d been staying with her uncle, sleeping with her sister in her sister’s bed, counting on proving Ben was the one who had turned his back on their marriage. At the very least, she believed she should receive back the money she’d put into the house purchase.
You abandoned your husband and property. You have been found at fault, Mrs. Davis. You are not entitled to anything.
But where will I live?
Her attorney had shrugged. He had done all he could. She had lost.
Before she had become a “ruined” woman, Marigold had always seen soiled doves as unfortunate souls who had made wrong choices and got themselves into their own predicament. Even Pearl had made remarks about how Marigold was “too assertive” and had put Ben off, driving him to that other woman who was more amenable.
Now Marigold understood she and women like her were birds that flew into a window, believing the mirrored reflection they were shown, blind to the very real barrier until it knocked them flat.
She’d still been trying to pick herself up from her fall when her uncle had suggested they “start fresh” and “make a difference” by moving to Topeka. Marigold had wanted to support the free-state movement, but she had also latched onto the means of fleeing her own embarrassment. Her naivety. She’d received another harsh slap in the face once they arrived there.
Given how many slaps she’d had, she ought to be immune to delusions of safety and security, but she had relaxed her guard after arriving here. She had started to think she had a chance here, a real chance to make a life.
Virgil had allowed her to believe that.
Now he was pulling the rug, toppling her once again.
