CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Tragedies

Thursday, December 13, 1877

Sam rode behind Heath the entire way there. If he had to work with the man all day, he could at least minimize the amount of time they were together. Settle down. What was that his mother used to say? Don't borrow trouble. As a kid, he never understood what that meant. But he did now. It meant not to worry about things that might happen. He'd do better to just assume he and Heath would get along fine. Ha!

They finally arrived at where the creek had been redirected the day before. They dismounted and looked over the work. About ninety percent of the water was going towards the winter pasture and the remaining still trickled through the summer pasture.

"Looks good here," Heath stated.

Sam nodded. "That was a good idea to redirect the creek."

"Nick's idea. It took me and Nick a week to lay out where we wanted the new crick to go, and then almost three weeks for a full crew to dig the ditch and line it with rocks to minimize the mud, but it sure will save us a bunch of time every year."

"Not too many people smarter'n Nick."

Heath chuckled. "He's a helluva lot smarter than he acts, that's for sure. Ain't never seen nobody try so hard to hide how smart they are."

"He's a good man."

"Yeah, he is." Heath looked into the distance at the path created by the newly activated creek. "I guess we just need to follow the creek and make sure there ain't nothin' cloggin' it up nowhere."

Sam nodded, then cast a glance at Heath. "Did Nick say for you and me to work on this together?"

"Not exactly. He said he intended to have you work it with him, but since them babies decided to come early, he said for me to take someone with a strong back with me or to have you take someone with a strong back with you."

Sam considered his words. "Then why'd you decide it should be me 'n you?"

Heath shrugged. "Just seemed like a good idea." He made eye contact with Sam. "You got a problem with that?"

"No." Not as long as you don't start acting like an ass. Sam rubbed Asher's neck.

Heath glanced at him and quickly looked away. "Ready to go?"

"Sure."

They rode slowly, following the creek, one on each side, looking for any trouble spots. After over an hour, Sam pointed to a spot. "Is there leakage there?"

Heath dismounted, since the potential trouble spot was on his side of the creek. He examined the area, then looked downhill. "Yeah. Not much of a problem now, but after a rain, it could be a problem." Plus, of course, it was wasting precious water.

Sam led Asher through the creek to get on Heath's side. He dismounted and surveyed the area. "What can we do about that?"

Heath shrugged. "I'm not sure. We don't want to deepen the trench or we could get standing water here during drought conditions. I suppose we could try to build up the bank."

Sam nodded. He looked around for rocks. The area was mostly pasture with tall grasses. If there were rocks, they were hidden.

The men searched for rocks to no avail. Finally, Heath looked at Sam. "Any ideas?"

"We can either mark this spot and come back tomorrow and bring the equipment we need, or we can ride over to the woods and see if we can find some rocks there."

Heath considered. Marking the spot would allow them to finish the examination, but they'd need to come back tomorrow—even though they should be helping with roundup and driving the cattle to the winter pasture. If they went to the woods, it would take them at least two hours to get there and get back, and they'd be limited in the number of rocks they could carry back. And there was absolutely no guarantee they wouldn't need multiple trips. He looked at Sam. "What do you prefer?"

Sam knew what he preferred. He'd much rather mark it and come back. Otherwise, he'd be late getting home. "I'll leave that up to you," he stated instead. Heath had made an effort by asking him about his preference instead of making the decision himself, so Sam reciprocated by letting Heath know he wouldn't buck his choice. Which he figured would be to stop and finish the job today.

Heath gave him his crooked half-grin. He did know what Sam preferred—Sam would want to continue the survey and come back tomorrow. "Well, I think we'd better mark this and come back to it tomorrow. Otherwise, it'll get dark on us, and we won't get the examination done, and there may be other places we'll hafta bolster. If we do the examining today and fixing tomorrow, at least we'll know what supplies to bring."

Sam nodded. "Good thinking."

Heath took a bandana out of his pocket and tied it to some high grass. He looked around for landmarks and made some notes in his notepad. When he finished, he looked at Sam. "You okay to keep goin' for a while?"

"Of course." He hadn't packed a lunch because he hadn't been aware he'd be away from the men, but at least he had some hardtack and jerky in his saddlebag.

They traveled another hour, again one on each side of the creek to give them double the perspective. "Ready for lunch?" Heath called.

"Sure. The horses need a break." Sam looked around. "There's a bit of a clearing on down a short ways."

"Then let's go there." Heath clicked, and Charger moved forward.

The clearing was on Sam's side of the creek, so Charger waded through.

Heath sighed. "I was hoping we'd be closer to the woods so we could catch a fish or two and cook it."

"I don't care much for raw fish."

"Me, neither." Heath dismounted, then rifled through his saddlebags. "Fortunately, I did pack a few roast beef sandwiches." He handed two to Sam. "And a couple of apples." He tossed an apple to Sam.

Heath tamped down some of the tall grass. He took Charger's saddle off and let him graze and used the saddle blanket to sit on. Sam did the same with Asher.

"Too bad there ain't no trees to lean against."

Sam shrugged. "Thanks for bringing food."

"Yeah, let's just plan to bring a lunch tomorrow. As much as I'd prefer to fish, it does take more time and I wanna be back by dark."

"Sounds good." Sam took a large bite of the sandwich.

"Did you grow up on a ranch?" Heath asked.

"Me?" Sam smiled his easy smile. "No. Not at all. My dad was a mine foreman, and we grew up in a mining town."

"Yeah? Me, too."

Sam started to ask if his dad was a miner, too, but then realized of course not. Heath's dad was Tom Barkley.

"I grew up in Strawberry," Heath offered.

Sam stared at him. "For real?"

"Yep. Couldn't make that up."

"That's where I lived."

Heath's mouth gaped. Strawberry had always been a small town, and if Sam's family lived there for any length of time, he should know them. Sampson. That was his last name. Sampson. He dug through his old memories. Mary Sampson was the first to appear. The pretty little blond girl with the big blue eyes who sat next to him. "Any relation to Mary?" he asked.

Sam nodded, but his frequent smile didn't appear.

Heath smiled. "How is pretty little Mary?"

Sam swallowed hard. "She died in the fire."

The fire. He remembered a fire. A horrible fire in which several children died. "I'm so sorry," Heath said quietly. "I remember a fire. Wasn't there other children?"

Sam nodded, his eyes guarded. "Five total. My three sisters and my two youngest brothers."

Heath closed his eyes. The tragic memory was suddenly vivid. The Sampsons lived near the mine. Their father was a foreman. There were a bunch of kids, and all of them had blond hair and blue eyes. Several of them were in school with him. Sam was four years older. Mary was his age. There were two other boys between Mary and Sam.

Heath remembered his mama and Aunt Rachel bawling their eyes out, saying what a horrible, horrible thing. All those pretty little babies, dead. And it was no wonder their mama lost her mind.

He stole a peek at Sam. "Did your mama ever get okay?"

"No. Pa quit the mining job and we moved to Roseville—well, it was called Junction then. We bought a farm. There were seven of us kids left—all boys. I was the middle one. But Pa figured with all the free labor, we'd be able to make a go of the farm, and we did. But Ma was never the same. She died when I was fifteen."

"I'm so sorry, Sam."

And then more memories flooded Heath's mind. Garvey Jenkins, who was three years older than Heath, and his brother Marcus, two years older, had trapped nine-year-old Heath in an alley after school. They had called him bastard, dirt, scum of the earth, and then attacked him with boards, some with nails in them. He fought them off the best he could, but he ended up on the ground and they were laughing and teasing him, tearing his clothes to shreds and revealing the scars and welts on his back. And then the three Sampson boys appeared. They quickly disbursed the attackers. Heath had been trying so hard not to cry, but he didn't want anyone to see the effects of his uncle's beatings—especially not his mama. His only shirt had been ruined—and his mama didn't need that worry, either.

But Sam, the oldest of the Sampson boys there, had picked him up off the ground and had told him not to worry, they'd find a shirt for him.

Heath blinked hard a few times to clear his eyes. "You and your brothers saved me from the Jenkins' boys," he said. "And then you took me to your house and gave me a shirt."

Sam stared at Heath. "That was you? That skinny little kid?"

Heath nodded.

It was Sam's turn to be horrified. He remembered Heath, the town bastard. The quiet little boy who was so obviously mistreated. He was also soft-spoken and polite, but if anyone spoke ill of his mama, his fists came out. "I'm so sorry you had such a rough time in Strawberry," Sam stated sincerely. And then he recalled his father railing about the mine using small boys to set fuses. His father had said the "skinny bastard boy" was one of the ones they used.

Sam lowered his eyes. "Did you set fuses in the mines?"

Heath nodded. "We needed the money."

"Damn."

Neither Heath nor Sam finished their sandwiches, nor could either meet the other's eyes. Heath never would've guessed Sam—the man with the frequent smile—could've lived through such tragedy. And he'd helped Heath—perhaps literally saved Heath's life.

They sat there for a few more minutes, staring off into the distance.

Finally, Sam stood. His smile was back. "We best get back to work."

Heath nodded, and they saddled their horses and worked silently. They found one other trouble spot that was already pooling, and Heath marked and noted it. Then they silently returned to the stables, riding side-by-side but not speaking. After they had put up their horses, Heath passed by Sam. He clamped his hand on his shoulder. "Thank you for saving me from the Jenkins'."

Sam nodded. "I'll bring us sandwiches tomorrow." He headed toward his cottage.

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