Chapter Nine
Beth’s heart hammered as she walked north on Washington Street. That was the only real thing wrong, though. Afternoon clouds flitted across the face of the sun and made it a very pleasant spring day. Insects whirred in the grass and a few birds sang in the nearby trees. As she crossed the bridge over Clear Creek, she heard a fish jump. Boggs’s blacksmith shop and general store squatted just beyond the river, but she barely noticed it.
She was headed home. To talk to Ma.
She walked past Boggs’s place without a glance. Her mind kept running through what she wanted to say.
Ma, I want to move into the Astor while the army’s gone. I don’t want to live way out here.
Except that wasn’t all of it.
Ma, Mister Dooley was murdered. I want to look for the men who did it. And, oh, I already killed one in a gunfight.
She knew how that’d be received.
Ma, this Indian shaman wanted me to help her, but then she got killed. But don’t worry, I’m carrying her ghost with me.
She snorted. Not even Rose could pull off that line.
Ma just wanted normal. But the world hadn’t been normal since the giants had come. It certainly hadn’t been normal since Pa had been killed and they’d been forced to move to Golden City.
In some ways, it was better.
But Ma didn’t understand that.
And while Beth’s mind raced, her feet slowly carried her down the road, onto the side trail, and across the grass, to the little log cabin and goat pasture that Ma considered “normal.”
The homestead came into sight as she rounded a small ridge. Ma stood outside in the vegetable garden, stubbornly hoeing a patch of dirt. Her thin body and weathered skin made her look older than she was. Like Beth, strands of dark hair perpetually escaped her bonnet. She looked lonesome, and a quick glance around confirmed her beau Wayne was nowhere in sight.
The half dozen goats whinily bleated from their pen between the prim cabin and the squat barn. Ma ignored them. She didn’t even notice Beth until she was twenty feet away. Then she straightened up and rested her hands on the end of the hoe.
“So,” Ma said, “you decided to come home.”
“Ma,” Beth said warningly.
Ma’s eyes dropped to Beth’s gun belt. She made a sour frown. “We heard what happened.”
“Wayne’s going with the army?”
“Already with them. I’ll be fine.” Her eyes flicked down Beth’s body. “You need a new dress.”
“I have one. Rose made it for me. It’s back at the Astor.”
“She’s a good woman, Rose. She’s always with a smile. Always polite.” Ma snorted softly. “So you’re staying there now?”
“Mr. Lake said he’d send word to you.”
“He did.” Ma let out another sigh. She slowly turned and surveyed the homestead. Her frown turned sad. “It’s not much, I know.”
“It was enough.”
“Was.”
Beth’s chest caught. She took a few, hesitant, steps forward.
“I know,” Ma said. “Ever since … well, it’s never going to be right for you, is it?
Beth paused. No words came to mind.
“I …” She looked at Beth. “I’ll just miss you.”
“Oh, Ma!”
Before she knew it, Beth was running. She threw her arms around Ma and hugged her tight. Ma squeezed her back.
“Oh, Ma,” Beth said through watery eyes. “I’ll miss you, too.”
They held each other tight, until it was almost hard to breathe. Then Ma pulled back. “You’re going to live there now, aren’t you?”
“I … I have to.”
“Well, come on inside. I made corn biscuits yesterday, and we have a little honey left.”
“I’d love to.”
Beth sat at the small polished pine table that Ma had bought when they’d first arrived in Golden City. She fidgeted. She didn’t have anything to do with her hands, since Ma had insisted she just sit.
Like a visitor.
Ma bustled around the little kitchen and chattered about the goats and Wayne’s enlistment. He’d made hints about proposing when he got back, she said, but hadn’t quite come out and done it. She pulled out her two good china plates and the crystal glasses from San Francisco and set them on the table. The thick corn biscuits and small tub of honey quickly followed, then a pitcher of goat’s milk, fresh from the morning’s milking, she said.
Finally, she sank into the chair opposite her daughter. She gestured towards Beth’s untouched biscuit.
“Eat up,” she said. “You know it’s good.”
“This …” Beth gestured at the crystal. “… is for special company.”
Ma’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re not?”
Beth’s eyes fell. “It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”
“No. You’re just …” Ma thunked her elbows on the table. She stayed silent. When Beth looked up, she was staring into space.
“Well,” Ma finally said, “you’ve survived quite a bit. I suppose you’ll survive what comes.”
“I’ll be fine, Ma. I know what I’m doing.”
Beth’s hand unconsciously drifted down to her Colt’s handle. Ma noticed and frowned.
“You could go with Hickok,” Ma said. “He’d take care of you. I’m surprised he’s not sweet on you.”
“I’m too young for Hickok.”
“You’re sixteen! Why, when I was sixteen—”
“He sees me as a daughter,” Beth said. The daughter he’d never had with Jane, he’d even said.
“Then he shouldn’t be teaching you that!”
Ma’s finger jabbed toward Beth’s gun. Then she shook it. Then she pulled it back.
Beth forced her face to be calm. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she took another. She put her hands on the table and made to stand.
“I’m …” Ma’s voice cracked. “I’m … it’s okay, honey. I’m just … well … I don’t want to go to your funeral.”
Beth opened her eyes. Her mother looked at her, pleading. One hand clutched the table’s edge like it was a life rope.
“I’ll be fine, Ma,” Beth reassured. “I’ll be fine. After all, I’ve got to come back and eat your biscuits, don’t I?”
She reached for the nearest one.
Ma’s death grip on the table eased and she forced a smile.
“I’ll have strawberry ones in June,” she said. “I know you won’t want to miss them. Then raspberry in July.”
Beth smiled at Ma’s lighter tone. She spread honey on her biscuit and asked, “So what should I look forward to in August? I mean, if I’m gonna be coming back every month …”
Ma let out a relieved laugh. “Well, that depends on how the garden does. And those rabbits. Say, do you have time …?”
“I have to be back by dark. Otherwise, I’m all yours.”
Beth walked in the kitchen door of the Astor just about an hour before dusk. She set down the heavy, worn haversack that contained all of her remaining clothes and other possessions. She shook the ache out of her arms and glanced around. Everything was neatly in place—the knives, the cutlery, heavy pans. Even the pitchers for water sat ready to fill and use.
Except there wasn’t a single sign of the cook.
She listened carefully and didn’t hear any movement either. So she walked into the parlor and found it similarly deserted. She went into the main entrance hall and found the front door locked. A handwritten sign hung on it, facing out. She turned it around and read, “Closed until trolls defeated.—S. Lake.”
Upstairs, she found all of the tenants had departed except two. Lieutenant Tompkins’s room still contained all his stuff, as well as an unmade bed, but he wasn’t there. However Jeb had taken over one of the other rooms and he was. He sat on a chair just inside the open doorway sharpening a large Bowie knife.
“Well hello, Miss Armstrong,” he said when he saw her. His smile overwhelmed his face. “Hello.”
“Hello to you, Mr. Miller.”
“Just Jeb. Just Jeb.”
“So, Jeb,” she said, “where is everyone?”
“Oh, Miss Chamberlin’s out a-gathering her things. Lieutenant Tompkins is uh, um, oh yes, Lieutenant Tompkins is ‘investigating the missing horses,’ is what he said.”
“Ah.”
“I’m sharpening my knife.” He held it up, as if she hadn’t noticed it before. “See?”
“I see.” She couldn’t help grinning.
“Miss Chamberlin said supper was in the ice box,” he continued, “for when you got back.” He gave his knife one last look up and down. Then he wiped it on his pants and sheathed it. “And now you’re back.”
He stood and looked at her expectantly.
“Then,” she said, “I suppose it’s suppertime.”
They were halfway through a supper of hardboiled eggs, boiled potatoes, and cured venison when Lieutenant Tompkins and Rose arrived within minutes of each other. Rose hurried to put her things in the room she’d claimed for herself while the lieutenant fetched himself some beer from the kitchen. He brought back food for himself and Rose as well. Once they’d all settled in at the table, Lieutenant Tompkins cleared his throat to get their attention.
“We learned some interesting things this afternoon,” he said. He glanced sideways at Rose, who nodded. Then he looked squarely at Beth.
“Boggs recognized that cowboy you shot,” he said. “He said he’d sold him a gun a few days ago—the same gun he drew on you. He came in alone, though, so he doesn’t know anything about his partner.”
“He also said he paid with gold nuggets,” Rose added. “We compared them to the ones in the bag and they’re similar.”
“And they’re not from around here!” Jeb said. “I know. I looked at ’em. I know!”
“The nuggets?” Beth said with a look of surprise.
“Yep,” Jeb said. “Them. The other minerals are all wrong.”
“They’re not pure gold,” Lieutenant Tompkins explained.
“What about the stolen horses?” Beth asked. “Did you learn anything about them?”
“One was a mountain pony,” Lieutenant Tompkins said. “The other was Boggs’s personal mount.”
“He was not at all happy about that,” Rose said with a roll of her eyes. “Went on forever.”
“I can imagine,” Beth said. She couldn’t hold back her grin. When Boggs got worked up … it was truly a sight.
“So how’d things go with your ma?” Rose asked.
Beth’s grin faded. “Fine. It was fine.”
“Ah.”
Lieutenant Tompkins’s eyes darted between the women and he frowned. Then he shrugged.
“So,” he said, “I suggest we get to the battlefield by dark so we have more time to look for the ghost we want.”
Beth nodded, and then realized all three of the others were, too.
“So we’re all going?” she asked.
“Oh, no,” Jeb said. “Oh, no. Miss Chamberlin and I are gonna stay here where it’s safe.”
Rose confirmed it with a nod and Lieutenant Tompkins just smiled in relief.
They didn’t quite make it to the battlefield before dark. Lieutenant Tompkins wanted to bring his rifle as well as his sidearm and Rose insisted they have water bottles and a second lantern, but Mr. Lake had taken all the good ones to the army camp. They finally found one in a storage closet, but it lacked oil. Rose rigged up a candle to work, but again, it took time.
It turned out they didn’t actually need it. With the swell of townsmen, the army no longer fit in their barracks. So they’d camped in the obvious large empty space near town—the old battlefield itself. Their scattered campfires looked scarily sparse. If the troll invasion was even a tenth of the rumors, it wasn’t clear they’d be enough.
But they’re just part of the army, Beth reminded herself. Other men will be coming from all over the West to help.
Beth and Lieutenant Tompkins started on the southern slope of the North Table Mesa. The evening air was still, which kept the night chill at bay. Stars above sparkled in almost a mirror to the campfires dotting the valley below.
Lieutenant Tompkins didn’t try to hide his lamp this time. Instead, he urged them to cover as much ground as they could. Beth led and looked for ghosts, but it was still slow. They had to keep a careful eye on their footing, and more than once she nearly slipped.
Finally, after several hours, they reached the eastern edge of the valley, where the mountain rounded north. Beth called for a break, and they sat on a small rock outcropping and drank from their canteens.
Lieutenant Tompkins guzzled his water and then grimaced in frustration. “A lot of ground to cover.”
Beth shrugged. “If the ghost was close to town I would’ve seen it before. It’s got to be out here somewhere.”
“But where?” he asked. He gestured toward the wide valley mouth and the ruins of Denver City in the distance. “This place is huge.”
“Yeah,” Beth said. “But what do you suggest?”
“Can you summon it? I’ve heard it’s possible.”
“Witches do that. I’m not a witch.”
“Aren’t you carrying one?” He pointed at Beth’s chest, where Raven’s pouch hung from its cord around her neck.
“Yeah.” Beth wrapped her hand around the pouch. “But we don’t know how to talk to her.” She rubbed the pouch slightly between her fingers, feeling the small bone within.
The air cooled.
Beth blinked. “Or maybe we do.”
Five feet away, Raven’s ghost stood, smiling.