Chapter 10
"Fire." Scott whispered it first, then shouted it to Johnny as he jumped out of the carriage to untie his horse.
They topped the hill. Smoke rolled, rising in great plumes. It was dry, too damned dry. He could feel it inside, the fire's thrum. It made him nervous, pulsing there. Smoke stung his eyes, his nose, even as the flames licked across the flat land toward the cabin.
He and Johnny rode at a dead gallop into the courtyard. Jerking his horse to a stop, he swung from the saddle and ran into the barn, emerging with burlap sacks and a bucket. He threw a few sacks to Johnny and they split off to the biggest ends of the fire, his brother urging Barranca forward into the valley.
Scott's mind filled with the heat and haze as he beat back the flames edging close to the corral. The rumbling sound of turning wheels caught his attention—Jean's dress billowed out from the front of the wagon, heralding the dust cloud behind them. He waved, motioning for them to turn back.
A bullet pinged near his boot, kicking up dirt. Scott lunged back to the corral fencing. He caught a glimpse of someone in black and snapped off a quick shot. The wagon swerved and drew off to the side.
Sweat trickled into his eyes as he crept forward, looking for Johnny through the smoke. He'd seen his brother dive for cover after the shot sounded. Rising, he ran for a natural break in the land. The rider started to turn in his saddle, so he changed direction to the nearest tree. Working his body around the trunk, he had a clear view of the man through the smoke.
Darcy.
The fire fluttered, whipping down, then blazed up, brighter than ever. Using it as cover, Scott worked his way closer. He pulled himself along, lying flat until he was near the man and horse. Darcy's attention was focused on trying to control his nervous mount. He leapt for the rider and they both fell sprawling to the valley floor.
Darcy staggered up, gave a hoarse shout and charged. The impact knocked them both off their feet again, rolling close to the flames. Scott lay still for a moment, lungs heaving. More gunshots blasted in the distance. He stiffened. The second shot was accompanied by a man's yell.
"Darcy!" Scott gasped. "You bastard!" He braced himself and met the mine owner head-on, swinging a balled fist. It landed square to Darcy's jaw and the man lurched back.
With a snarl, the mine owner jumped at Scott, swinging his own fist. "Nobody beats me, you or my uncle!"
The blow caught him on already tender ribs and he doubled over. Twisting to the side, Scott reached out to grab the man's leg. He heaved hard on it, throwing the older man off balance and upending him. Darcy crashed to the ground.
Scott pounced, pinning him to the ground. Once then twice he slammed a punch into Darcy's face. The sound of a commotion just beyond the fire reached his ears—horses, and they were riding hard.
A man's form blundered through the smoke. Scott pivoted and snatched up his revolver. Johnny broke through the haze, his body rimmed by black smoke.
"I got the second shooter." Hands on knees, Johnny leaned over trying to catch his breath. "Same cowboy who stayed with Darcy this morning." He hauled up at the sight of the bloodied man splayed out on the ground. "Speak of the devil…I might have known it'd be him who set this. Looks like you got in a few good licks, though."
Johnny reached out his hand and helped Scott up. "You wanna leave him here?"
His brother's proposition was backed up by a thin smile of stark white teeth set in a face smeared black.
Scott huffed out a breath. "It's tempting, but no."
"Then we'd better haul his sorry ass out of here before it's too late. Cip and boys are here from the work site, tryin' to put out these damn flames. I figure they might still need our help." Together they lifted Darcy between them and dragged him out of the fire's reach.
#-#-#-#-#
Everything looked so bright and sharp in the afternoon sunlight. It seemed impossible the fire could have done so much so fast. Scott saw the damage, the burned mess of what had been Ben's valley. Whole swaths of it were swallowed up and replaced by char. The fire had run along a trail almost to the cabin and corral, fueled by Darcy's torches and the dry land.
Johnny, up ahead, was giving directions to Cipriano. Darcy was tied up in the back of the wagon and Jeff, his cowboy, was nursing a bullet wound to the arm. The rest of the soaked, ash-covered men had peeled off for Lancer when the last fire was put out.
Scott scrubbed an arm across his forehead, catching an errant drop of sweat. There would be a lot of work to do to get everything in order again.
He heard a faint cry and turned around.
Jean called out to him again. Ben was slumped down near the corral fence. Rushing to his side, he helped him up and half-carried the old man out of the lingering smoke and into the cabin. The air was warm and heavy inside, but Ben was shivering. Scott turned down the quilt and helped him into bed.
Ben had streaks of black dust covering his cheeks, contrasting with the grey of his face. In spite of his condition, he managed a fragile smile.
"Ben." Scott stood there unsure of what to say next. "I'll send someone for a Doctor Jenkins."
"I don't need Sam." His words were muffled behind a rasping wheeze.
Smelling the smoke and seeing the smudges on Ben made him want to push his fist into Darcy's face all over again. It was wrong, but the feeling persisted.
Jean's voice caught him unawares. "Johnny went for the doctor. How is he?"
He shook his head. "Get a basin of water and some towels from the kitchen."
As Jean turned, Ben started to cough, frothy spittle dotting his lips. He clutched at Scott's arm. "Don't…leave."
Ben's hand wrapped tighter around his wrist. He was looking past Scott to the window. "Tommy, where are the men? There's a fire in the mine!"
"Easy Ben. Lay back now." Scott eased him back to the pillow. "The fire is all gone."
Ben turned frightened eyes to face him. "Tommy?"
"You're at the cabin, Ben. Tommy went back to town."
Ben's hand loosened its grip as awareness crept back in. "Scott?" He looked around the room in puzzlement. "I thought…," he whispered. "Never mind…" He let go of Scott's arm and fell back against the pillow.
"It's all right, you're safe now. Jean and I will get you cleaned up."
Ben fell into a restive sleep before they finished, pulling every so often at the blanket.
Scott pushed away from the bed. He was weary, the stink of smoke still filling his nostrils. The low, flickering light from the lantern threw soft shadows on the walls in the curtained room. Jean was curled up in a chair they'd pulled into the room.
A loud bray reminded him that Lizzy needed tending. He looked to Jean who nodded and he left for the barn.
#-#-#-#-#
Ben drifted awake and opened his eyes. "Hey?" His voice found only an echo for company. "Where is everybody?"
No answer. He shifted in bed and remembered. Fire! The quilt was heavy; he fumbled with its scalloped edging trying to get out from under it until a soft rustling noise from the window drew his attention.
"Uncle, you need to stay in bed. You're not well."
Estelle? No, Estelle was gone, these many years. He squinted at the face in the gloom of his bedroom. The wide-set eyes, brown hair falling over her high forehead…
"Jeanie."
"I'm here."
Her soft white hand patted his arm.
He pushed the spread down. "Fire…we have to leave…"
"The fire's been put out, Uncle. The Lancers saw to it. Rest easy, Johnny will be back soon with the doctor."
Panicked, Ben swept his eyes around the room. "Scott?" he yelled.
"Hush. He went to take care of Lizzy."
The boy was all right…. He quieted and settled back into the pillow, feeling his weight press into the cushion of the familiar mattress. He was just so tired. "Open the curtains, Jeanie."
"There's not much out there to look at, since the fire."
"Please."
He heard a soft sigh then the rustle of taffeta. Jeanie pulled back the curtains, allowing the early evening light to flood in. Propping himself up on one elbow, he could see blackened lines leading a trail to the cabin. The sugar bushes were still there, he just knew it. If he could only see them.
A firm hand pushed him back against the mattress. "You'll hurt yourself, please try to lay still."
He batted away her hand, wanting only to see the greenery against the scorched land. They'd seen fires before, and when everything was taken around them, the sugar bushes had survived. He remembered the first white blooms…
A tap against his shoulder made him frown. He looked up at Jeanie.
"I'm sorry how this all turned out. I know you wanted me to stay here. But I can't, Uncle. And now that Tom is gone…."
He thought hard. "Where is Tommy? I need to talk with him."
A deep furrow appeared between Jeanie's eyes. "The Lancer foreman took him away. You know that."
Ben pressed his knuckles into his chest and rubbed in slow circles. "Tommy left?"
Jeanie bobbed her head up and down.
"But there's so much to do yet. I want to tell him about the gold…" Hammering of pickaxes against stone filled his ears. There must be twenty men working today. He could hear their voices. The rough shouts and crude curses raising above the dust, as one by one the hand trucks appeared the mouth of the Monarch. The trucks were filled with gravel and rock. In six weeks they'd cleaned up twenty-thousand dollars. But now the mine was playing out. He had to tell Tommy about the big vein running inside the Monarch….
It was all a fraud. But they'd mined enough ore for the both of them to live on, if they did it with care. Ben struggled against the confines of the quilt. He had to make sure his nephew knew that it was all a lie so he wouldn't keep wasting money.
"Tell me." Jeanie's soft voice came from the bedside. She leaned closer to him, enough so he could smell the lingering scent of smoke-tinged lemon verbena and soap.
He gnawed at his lip and stared, his head throbbing with the beat of his heart. Her voice persisted above the roar in his ears. Something was very wrong. He fingered the rough quilt, what was she asking?
"Tell me, Uncle. Where is the vein?"
There was a sharp scrape of boot heels across the threshold. "Jean."
She shrank back and his breath whooshed out. Ben's eyes swept over the figure in the doorway. Scott's forehead was creased by worry lines and soot. Then he looked back to Jeanie; her head tilted downwards studying folded hands. But she'd been asking about the Monarch…about the gold.
The boy's eyes flashed in anger. "Ben?"
His mind cleared. Drained and spent, he nodded.
Scott turned to Jeanie and pushed his hand under her arm. "You need to leave."
Ben's voice was reedy, thin as a light breeze. He sought out her hand. "I thought I wanted that gold, with all my heart. But what I really wanted was a bit of land and family around me, the way man was meant to live. Not with a head full of dust and ore dreams. I figured that out late—too late—to save Tommy from making the same mistake. Then he turned against me and I turned against myself, I suppose." He glanced to Scott. "It took a lost mule almost getting herself killed to realize that.
"Jeanie, I know it seems like you're down to bedrock right now, but someday…you'll understand what's important."
"Uncle…"
A carriage pulled up outside. Ben heard Johnny's voice and one other. He fastened his eyes upon her, squeezing her hand while tears tumbled down her cheeks. Searching, he found his voice again. "Goodbye, Jeanie."
With the decision came peace, came certainty. He relaxed. Scott's anger was banked, Ben saw. He'd see to her, would make sure she got off to Denver on the stage.
Doctor Jenkins barged into the room, his black brows pressed together in a single line. Ben eyed the bag he laid on the bed. "I don't need any help."
"For God's sake, Ben, let me be the judge of that. I've been practicing a bit longer than you."
Ben tried to glare at Scott and Johnny but failed. "I don't need a room full of people looking on while you do it."
Scott tipped a half-smile. "Okay, okay. We'll wait in the other kitchen. Maybe Johnny can make some of his coffee you like so much."
Ben's hand scrubbed the side of his face. There was something he needed to do. "Scott…there's a white envelope in my desk drawer. Can you bring it to me?"
"Sure, Ben. I'll get it for you."
He saw the boy and his brother exchange puzzled looks before they left the room. He hoped they knew how lucky they were to have each other as family.
Scott brought the envelope and Ben waited until he left and the door was closed. He trembled open the envelope; something blurred his eyes and he thrust the papers towards the doctor. "My time is about used up, Sam, I know that much at least." He sighed and burrowed deeper under the spread. "I need you to sign your name on those papers. And whatever happens, make sure Ed Farley gets that envelope, would you?" He looked into the doctor's concerned eyes. "Promise me, you'll do that."
Blowing out a breath, Dr. Jenkins looked through the four sheets of paper and placed them back into the envelope. "Are you sure about this?"
"Never so much in all my life."
"All right, Ben. I'll sign them, and make sure Ed gets it." He slipped out his timepiece and sat down in the chair. "Now let me have a look…"
#-#-#-#-#
Johnny pulled Scott aside and motioned to Jean's room. "Everything all right here?"
Scott shook his head. "When you take the doctor back, can you take Jean with you?"
Rocking back on his heels, Johnny took a half-step towards Jean's door, then turned to face him. "Is that the way Ben wants this played out?"
Scott folded his arms and stared at Ben's closed door, finally nodding.
"Well, how about you?"
He started. "What about me?"
"What do you want?"
"I don't have a horse in this race, Johnny."
"But you do want Jean to stick around."
Scott's mind filled with protest. Words rose to his lips but were stifled there. He looked down at Ben's rough floorboards instead and took inventory. Despite all that happened, he still had some feelings for her. No matter the impetus, Jean had come to a decision on her way in the world. It made no difference if he thought her choice was the wrong one. He walked to the door and listened to the muted conversation within. He came away when the knob turned. "Not anymore. Will you see her to Green River?"
Johnny studied him for a moment, head tipped to the side. "I can do that, Brother."
Dr. Jenkins came out and placed his bag down on the table. "There's not much I can do for him. I've given him an injection to take the edge off his pain and left a bottle of laudanum at the bedside. He can have a teaspoon every hour, if he needs it." He undid the top button of his shirt, shaking his head. "I honestly don't know how the old boy lived this long."
The doctor bent down to clasp his bag together and looked at Scott in appraisement. "It looks like I've missed an opportunity to practice my medicine somewhere down the line. You've been through the wringer, son."
"I'm fine."
"I'm sure. You Lancers usually are." He rummaged in his bag and handed Scott a folded packet. "But if not, take a tablet or two from this; it'll help ease the soreness. And Scott, someone should sit with Ben during the night."
"I'll be here, Sam."
"I had a feeling you would be. You know, I couldn't help Ben during the trial in Green River and I'm not much use to him now." He picked up his bag. "You've been good to him, Scott, at a time when he needed it the most. He may not say it, but he's grateful."
Sam looked at Ben's door for few long moments, then clapped a hand on Scott's shoulder. "But I have other patients to see, how about that ride back to town?"
They turned when Jean's door snicked open. She stood over the threshold, a carpet bag held in one hand and her feathered hat in the other.
Scott crossed the room to her side and tugged the bag from her hand.
"Scott, I…"
He didn't want to hear any more excuses. "You know my stand on this, Jean."
She colored, and he gave Johnny the bag.
Johnny looked from Scott to Jean and back again. " Doc, the buggy's still out front."
Scott paused at Ben's door, watching them leave. Jean turned away from him to step outside to the carriage, her chin held high, pure agony in her eyes.
#-#-#-#-#
Scott eased himself down into the chair beside the bed. Pulling the coverlet up higher on the old man's chest, he let his hand rest there for a moment. Ben's breathing was shallow.
"Did Jeanie leave?"
"I'm sorry, Ben."
"She has her own mind and made her own decision." Ben opened his eyes. "But you felt something for her."
He nodded.
"Then I'm the one who's sorry." Ben turned his face away, not wanting to talk any more about it, and Scott wasn't going to press him.
"You'll take care of my mule?"
"You don't have to ask, Ben. She'll have the greenest pastures to choose from…and the tightest corral fences."
The old man grinned. "She'll like that all right." His smile faltered. "Jeanie wants to go back to Denver; would you see that she gets on the stage?"
"I will."
"Knew you would. I just wanted it said out loud."
Up close, Ben's face showed the ravages of both age and a life lived hard in a harsh land. His grey eyes were rheumy and faraway. "I did my best to chase you off the day you brought Lizzy home."
Scott smiled. "Yes, you did. It almost worked."
"Why'd you come back?"
Scott played with the edge of Ben's quilt, rubbing it between his fingers. "I'm not sure why. I had a feeling about Lizzy." He looked up. "And you."
Ben's eyebrow cocked upwards. "Me?" He developed a tick at the corner of his mouth, and his gaze shifted away. "I wasn't doing so well, maybe a long time before then, if I was truthful."
The sadness in Ben's voice pulled at him. He understood something about the old man he hadn't known before. Ben had followed his dreams, and in doing so lost more than he bargained for. When Scott met him, he was staying low, licking his wounds, trying not to get hurt again. But he'd changed since that day.
Ben spoke up, "Lizzy was smart to find you."
"Probably." He smiled a full, toothy grin.
Ben caught his smile, and chuckled. He snaked a hand out from under the spread and captured Scott's sleeve. "This is good land, boy. Look out the window, are the sugar bushes still there?"
He left the chair and went to the window, peering out. He braced his thighs against the sill and felt the lingering heat of the day filtering through the glass. The warmth against his chest was soothing. Scanning the striped earth, he found the greenery jutting out from the dirt like an island in a sea of brown. He closed his eyes for a moment and felt his anger and frustration leach away.
He turned around to find Ben watching him.
"Are they still there, Scott?"
"Yeah, Ben." He went back to the bedside and sat down. "Their edges look a little curled from here, but they're still here."
"Some things you just know for sure." Ben's gnarled hand found Scott's knee and patted it. "I'm glad you came back, boy. Mighty glad."
Eyes closed, Ben's white head nodded in tune with some internal drummer. The corners of his mouth lifted and his next words trailed out on a whisper. "Would you read to me?"
Scott settled back in the worn chair and picked up the book from Ben's small table. Opening to a dog-eared page, he started to read, his lone voice taking them into the night.
#-#-#-#-#
Ben's funeral was held on Thursday. There were more people attending than Scott imagined. Ed Farley was there, taking out a handkerchief to sop up the sweat from his broad forehead every now and then. Val was talking to Johnny at one corner of the site. Mr. and Mrs. Corley stood arm and arm together making conversation with another couple. A few more citizens milled about waiting for the service to begin. He looked them over, one by one, and wondered if any had a part in what happened to old Ben.
Scott cast a look over his shoulder to see a buggy making its way through charred grassland to the burial sight under the poplar tree.
Murdoch followed his gaze and gave a considering sigh. Taking off his hat, he wiped the sweat from its inside leather band. "The morning is heating up."
Keeping an eye on the carriage, Scott replied, "Better than rain." But he gave a surreptitious tug on his string tie. Johnny was dressed more casual in an open collared shirt. For a moment, he envied his brother and his lack of social graces. Or maybe he envied Johnny's ability to get away with being a nonconformist. He conceded that this time Johnny was on to something. He reached up and pulled the tie away, stuffing it into his pocket, and undid his collar.
Jean descended from the buggy, looking a little lost as she scanned the small crowd of visitors. Their eyes met over the distance. She hesitated, then walked towards him.
Murdoch stared at him, the lines tightening around his eyes. Scott knew that look—it was concern. But he wasn't facing a bullet, or a beating, or a fire—just Jean.
Her face was white and pinched, eyes reddened. In a brief moment of spite, he wondered just who she'd been crying for—herself or Ben. It passed in an instant and he was anxious to clear the tension. Funerals had a way of doing that to him. They made him think of the past and all the things better left there—and of correcting things that were wrong while there was still a chance.
He left Murdoch's side and met Jean halfway.
She held up a hand as if to ward him off. "Don't Scott, not here."
He frowned, keeping his feelings to himself and guided her to the gravesite. They looked down at the simple wooden coffin.
The ceremony began without fanfare, made less somber by birds flying in and out of the tree limbs and the sunny skies overhead. The last shovel of dirt was placed over Ben's gravesite before Scott really had time to think about it.
Jean brushed the front panel of her bodice in a nervous gesture. "That's a splendid headstone. It must have been quite expensive."
Scott took her elbow and led her away from the grave. Like a fool, he wanted things out in the open. "Ben didn't plan for it to happen this way. He just wanted a chance to be reunited with his family."
She gulped and started to breathe. "And I kept that from him."
Jean was a shrewd woman; he couldn't see how lying would end up with anything good. "In part."
She searched his face and started to say something, but stopped herself.
Scott abandoned all pretenses. "Ben was disappointed, but he came to accept that it wasn't to be. The hardest part for him was when you asked where the gold was hidden at the Monarch. Even then he forgave you."
Wariness showed in her eyes. Did she not believe him? Or maybe she was trying to sort through all he had told her.
"And you?" Her low voice was cautious.
Ben had died in his sleep during that night. Not saying another word about Jean or Darcy. It hurt Ben, but he'd moved on in his pragmatic way and came to peace with it. Scott couldn't do the same—not yet. "I require more time."
She gave him a sudden, piercing look. "I see."
Did she? Scott wondered.
Jean straightened, her hands curling around the top of her purse. She turned to leave, walked a few steps then stopped. "I would go back and change it, if I could. God knows, I've been an idiot."
She walked back to the carriage, but he remained standing there, watching as she gathered the reins.
Johnny nodded to Jean as she drove off. "How'd it go?"
"She's still angry."
"At you?" Johnny asked.
"At herself."
Farley approached them. "Scott, with Tom Darcy in jail, the Monarch and all its staked and titled property will be auctioned off to the highest bidder to pay off taxes and money owed."
Scott nodded, he thought that would happen.
The lawyer pulled out an envelope, the same one Ben had stashed away in his desk drawer. "But what you might not know is that Ben deeded this land to you."
"What? When did he do that?"
"He had me draw up the papers the same day his niece arrived in town." Ed flashed him a small grin. "I wanted him to wait, to be sure. But Ben was set on you receiving this land after he died. He knew he didn't have much time and couldn't take a chance on family ties." He tipped his head to Jean's departing carriage. "Or lack of them."
Scott took the papers and saw Ben's broad scribble at the bottom of each page and the doctor's signature as witness. He handed them back to the lawyer.
"This land was freely his; no claim from Darcy's estates can be made on it. You'll need to sign these at some point, just come by the office when you're ready and we can make it legal.
"Ben wasn't a fool, Scott, but I expect you know that. These people here, some of them were at his competency hearing. They're just trying to make right—too late—but the effort is there." He reached into his coat pocket and drew out a smaller sealed envelope. "Before I forget, Ben wanted you to have this."
Farley looked around and dabbed the handkerchief at his brow. "At least it's not raining. Nothing more maudlin than a funeral in the rain. I can just imagine old Ben in heaven, sitting on top of a heap of pure gold."
He watched the lawyer trundle off and looked down at the envelope in his hands. Ed Farley was wrong. Ben wouldn't be sitting on a hill of gold ore. But he would be sitting on a bed of green grass surrounded by trees and flowers.
#-#-#-#-#
The rain started three days after the funeral. It was a hard soaker that brought a dash of coolness to the air. Jelly called it a fall rain, and it broke the dry spell, signaling the beginning of the wet season in the valley. The mountain had early dustings of snow on its highest peaks and ridges. Scott looked outwards from the headstone and saw a fine mist of green, like the first sign of growing grass. The seeds along the sub-irrigated portion of Ben's land—his land now—had re-germinated after the fire.
He strode out from Ben's resting place, stopping from time to time to prop up a lone plant that had escaped the burning. A careful survey of the land uncovered a few more pockets of green not taken by the flames, mostly on the fringe. But the biggest and best of them stood right in front of him. Scott stared at the sugar bushes and their eight-foot height with a kind of awe. They'd survived the intense heat of the fire when everything around them had dried to tinder.
A sleek palomino, with rider, was making their way in a hurry towards him. Johnny pulled up and dismounted. "Thought I'd find you here."
"I wanted to look around the place, assess the fire damage." He knew his brother had questions about Jean, but decided not to ask them—at least not yet. Together they looked out and saw the valley, dotted with cloud shadows.
Johnny nudged Barranca away from lipping his hand. "Have you told Jelly about the new mouth to feed at the Lancer stables?"
"Not yet, but I think he'll figure it out once he goes near the corral."
"Lizzy's not real quiet, is she?"
"That would be a decided 'no'."
"You know he's gonna make a fuss over her."
"I'm counting on it."
Scott felt a light touch on his shoulder when Johnny's hand rested there. "Guess now that you're a regular land owner, you might want to spend some time out here. It's real pretty, especially since the rains came."
He flashed Johnny a grin. "Ben built for the view. A place to get away from town…and his nephew. He felt at home here, always talked about it," Scott said, tweaking a leaf from the bush in front of him, "and these sugar bushes."
Ben loved his corner of the world and he knew every inch of it, including the lines of underground water that fed the bushes. He told Scott where to find shale and limestone. Quartz and agate. Remembering the note, he fished it out of his pocket to show Johnny.
You've been family to me, Scott. I only wish there was more time. This land is yours now. I hope you'll keep it and watch the living things grow. Enjoy the sugar bushes, and remember what I told you about them. They only ask for sun and water, but they'll give you much more in return, so much more.
"Old man Riley sure was somethin'." Johnny scuffed the toe of his boot against the ground, digging under the dirt softened by the rain.
Scott inhaled, bringing the sweet smell from the greenery into his lungs. "We'd better get going or Murdoch will wonder happened."
"Wait a minute." Johnny bent down and lifted the sugar bush stems off the ground. "Look there. Do you see what I'm seein'?"
It was all about them, at their feet and hidden under the green bushes. The foliage cloaked the working of an old mine. Johnny pulled out a small chunk of ore, seamed with gold. He whistled under his breath. "Look at that…"
Scott took the piece and turned it over in his hands. Streaks of yellow color splintered through the rock, making it gleam in the sunlight. He dropped to his knees and swept aside the green stems. More ore winked at him from underneath. He sat back on his heels.
"You think Riley knew about this?" Johnny asked.
He stared at the bushes for a few long moments. "Ben knew."
Johnny pushed back the brim of his hat and squinted down at him. "What are you going to do about it?"
Standing up, Scott slapped the damp earth from his trousers. "Nothing, Johnny. I'm not going to do anything about it. The ore can stay in the ground."
The note Ben left for him had hinted about the ore. But Riley left him with more than gold. He gave Scott his love of flowers, trees, the valley and hills. And because Scott shared in that love, Ben had wanted him to have the land. He couldn't—wouldn't—betray that trust now.
~End~
10/09