“Got to get you out,” he muttered.
His head ached. The left side of his body wasn’t working properly and he was leaning against Ellen.
“Wait a moment,” Jim said when they were at the edge of the building. He held Ellen back and glanced around the corner. Nothing. No Bannen. No bullets. “Let’s go,” Jim said, and they set out again.
Twenty paces away, the gate was just ahead of them.
Bannen was waiting for them. He stood propped against the gatepost, gun in his right hand.
“Heston,” he said. Then he spit a stream of blood and saliva. Blood soaked his shirt and pants. “We finish this now.”
Bannen’s gun came up.
Trying to get her clear, Jim threw Ellen aside. His own gun came up. It bucked in his hand a half second before Bannen fired.
Bannen’s shot struck the dirt at Jim’s feet. Jim’s hit the outlaw in the breastbone and staggered him. Jim fired his last two rounds. Both struck Bannen in the chest. The man died on his feet.
Jim looked down on the dead outlaw.
“Ellen,” Jim said, “let’s go home.”
Epilogue
A flight of geese honked as they passed overhead, their V pointing due south. Jim envied them. Instead of wasting away through a hard winter of ice and snow, the geese simply picked up and traveled to warmer lakes and ponds.
“I don’t think we’ll strike gold twice,” Jim said.
Ellen laughed, and the sound warmed his heart. It was the first time in a very long time he could remember her laughing.
“I don’t think we would survive striking gold twice,” she said.
They were alone in the foothills they’d soon call home. Dusk lay heavy on the land; the first bold stars shone in the east, just above the curtain of mountains.
“They call them the Warners,” Jim said.
“They’re quite tall. As tall as the Sierras?”
“No, but they seem higher, surrounded by the empty plains and all. Fandango Pass is to the south. It’s the best way across.”
“What’s on the other side?”
“A bit of green huddled into the mountain’s flank, then nothing, just miles and miles of empty desert,” Jim said. “There’ll be fewer people here. Not so many reasons for living here.”
“I have all the people I need,” Ellen said, and hugged him.
“I’ll cut timber this winter, give it time to season, so we won’t have to chink the logs so much. I’ll build us a warm cabin with lots of rooms.”
“That will take time.”
“It will,” Jim nodded. “I’ll build it to last. This will be our home.”
“You’re done moving?” she asked.
“Finished.”
“Where will we live? While you’re building the cabin, I mean? I won’t be separated from you again.”
Jim looked down at her and smiled. “Town. I found a house for rent. A little small for us and your mother and Martha. But maybe we can find them their own place.”
Coyotes called from across the creek. Jim breathed deep the scents of sage and wood smoke and pine. The fire crackled behind them and they stared up at the lonesome mountains.
“You didn’t mention Colton,” Ellen said.
“I couldn’t convince him to come. He wants to stay in Donovan. He’s going to start his own business, cutting timber for the mines.”
“His share is enough that he doesn’t have to work,” Ellen said.
“I think he does. It does a man good to work and plan and see a thing grow. It changes him. Makes him think of bigger things than just himself.”
“You think he’s ready?”
“He’ll never be ready until he tries. When we struck gold, I sure wasn’t. I wanted nothing to do with running a mine.”
“And now?”
“Now I’ll trust you to handle it, and I’ll build us a house and then a ranch. Something you can be proud of. I can do that instead.”
“I am always proud of you, Jim,” she said. Then she sighed. “As far as the mining goes, Mr. Hearst and his investors will see to that. I don’t think he’ll take advice from a woman.”
