“It sounds wonderful,” Ellen admitted. “But I still worry about the children. Where will they go to school? Where will they learn? Who will be their friends?”
“There are other ranches nearby and a small town,” Jim said. “It’ll be a long ride to school, but after you see it, Ellen…after you see it, I know you’ll love it as much as I do.”
Ellen had to admit that he was far happier than she’d seen him since the mine took off. She knew he had no heart for mining. She’d hoped he would learn the business and grow to accept his place here, but instead he’d retreated into himself. Every change in the valley served only to drive him away.
She sighed and studied the unadorned walls of their home. It wasn’t much. Some of the newer houses in town were far nicer. But Jim built this cabin with his own hands, just for them, and she loved it. Walt and Alma each had their own rooms and there was space to add more.
Ellen wanted more. She loved her children, and she knew Jim considered them his own, but she wanted to have more. Jim wanted the same. That’s why he’d been quick to show her how the cabin could be extended.
“So what do you think?” Jim asked.
He was hopeful. That much was obvious. He wanted badly to have his ranch; where Ellen saw the mine as a means to live a comfortable life, one that could supply their children with a wealth of opportunities, Jim saw it as a tool to establish a great ranch.
“Jim,” Ellen said. “I just don’t know. It sounds wonderful, but we have a life here. We have family and friends. We are established here.”
“They can all go with us. Neill and your parents and even Colton after a time. We’ve already agreed. We’ll have our own little community.”
Ellen considered his words. Mother might agree. Father was an unknown. Fascinated as he was by the business of mining, he still yearned for a quiet, simple life. He’d often talked of going farther west, toward San Francisco and the coast. Colton’s appetite for adventure had only been whetted by his time with the freighters. He told stories of the mountains he’d crossed and the lands he’d seen. He wasn’t ready to settle down. And Captain Neill?
Captain Neill was an enigma. He was a new man with the steady Delphi at his side. Ellen liked the woman, despite her early misgivings, and she liked the pairing. Delphi provided a sense of solidness that Neill had been lacking. She made him a better man.
“You hate the idea?” Jim said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Jim, I should like to see it. It’s just that we’ve a lot here,” Ellen said.
“Of course you will, and then you’ll love it,” Jim said. “As for the mine, your father and Neill can manage fine without us. We’ll go in the spring and choose a site for the house. With a little of the profit from the mine, we can build something fine and grand for ourselves, then something for Neill and your parents. Then cattle the following year.”
“And what about the mine, then?” Ellen asked.
“What about it?” Jim said.
“Would you sell or keep it? You can’t run a mine from so far away.”
Jim looked chagrined. “I hardly run it.”
“You know my meaning.” Ellen tilted her head. “If Mother and Father join us, along with Captain Neill, there will be no one here to oversee things.”
“What about Noah?”
“Noah is a good man, but he can’t manage everything by himself.”
“Your father might stay,” Jim said.
“He might, but he and Mother have talked about going farther west.”
“He didn’t say anything to me. He seemed excited to build the ranch.”
Ellen moved to him and took her place against his side. She put a hand on his chest and leaned her head on him. “Maybe he was excited for you.”
Jim held her for a moment, then his hands fell away. “I’m just not needed here,” he said. “I have no purpose. I don’t care about the mine.”
Ellen felt his words. She’d never seen him defeated, not during the long journey west, not through the worst winter storms, not through the loss of their cattle. All along, he’d stayed stoic and calm, a rock never to be broken or worn down. But being here now, being useless, it was changing him. Changing him in ways she did not like.
She took a breath, then looked into his eyes. “You are my husband, Jim Heston, and if you say we go, then we will go.”
He gave her a half grin in return. “That may be, but you are my wife and I would move mountains to see you happy.”
“Wherever you are, I will be happy enough,” she said. “Before summer’s end, we will go see this magnificent land of yours and then decide where to build. Three moves in as many years. Three homes.”
“Three good homes,” Jim agreed. “And the third will be the best yet. I’m more practiced now.”
* * * *
A few miles north of Bidwell’s Bar, in his former camp, Cord Bannen waited. He sat behind a pile of discarded crates and wooden boxes. Three small tents stood in front of him, and John, off to his left, was likewise hidden behind a stack of empty barrels. They’d come alone. Several of the others might have joined them, but Jacob and the Swede’s betrayal, their attempts to take his men—somewhere it had all become personal.
Cord had been told once that business should never be personal.
Poor advice, for sure. When a man ruined your business or took what was rightfully yours, how could it not be personal? Cord had snorted at the notion and shot the man who’d offered it.
The camp had been empty when they arrived over a narrow game trail only he and John had known. Jacob and his men were either out drinking or finishing up a job, Cord was certain. Either way, he didn’t care.
The sun dropped over the mountain and plunged the hidden canyon into semidarkness. Cord sighed. Had Jacob found another camp? He doubted it. Outlaws were, by nature, lazy creatures. If that were the case, if they really had left, the tents and other supplies wouldn’t be here.
Still, they might be gone for several days. Cord was about to give up and call it quits for the night when a noise came from the valley’s narrow mouth. He froze. The noise came again, and he saw John peek around the barrels. Slowly, John withdrew, then flashed several crude hand signals.
They were coming, Jacob and his partner, the Swede, and they weren’t alone.
Cord leaned out around the boxes just enough to catch a look of his own. There was little danger in being seen. It was dark, and no one, no one outside of John and himself, knew about the game trail. There wouldn’t be any tracks or signs of disturbance at the valley’s main entrance. Besides, after a long day of drinking or carousing or pulling off a job, they would be tired and careless and more than a little drunk.
