A Claim of Her Own (42 page)

Swirling snow kept Mattie in town through the first few days of December, and although Freddie insisted he didn’t mind spreading his bedroll on the floor by the kitchen stove, Mattie decided to accept the Berg sisters’ offer to rent the tiny room at the back of their shop. She divided her time between working in Aunt Lou’s kitchen and Swede’s store, and treated Freddie to an almost daily supply of cinnamon pinwheels courtesy of Aunt Lou’s pie-baking lessons. The more it snowed, the less inclined Mattie was to climb back up to her claim. She told herself that had nothing to do with the frequency of Aron Gallagher’s visits to Aunt Lou’s kitchen.

The telegraph arrived in town, “heralding a new era for our fair city,” according to the
Pioneer
. Mattie smiled when she read the article, thinking of Dillon’s “hell’s front porch” description of the town and wondering what he would think of Deadwood now.

In mid-December, Mattie was dusting the china on display at the store when Aron stomped in. Removing his hat and shaking the snow out of his coat, he said something about the wind picking up and the temperature dropping before adding, “Freddie challenged me to a no-holds-barred game of checkers tonight.”

“Sounds like the beginning of a long night,” Mattie said with a smile. “Freddie’s very good at checkers.”

“Very good,” Aron agreed, “but
not
unbeatable.” He glanced around. “Where is he, anyway?”

“He just let Justice out,” she said, and laid the feather duster atop the counter. “They should both be back in any minute. I’ll get some water on for coffee.” She paused. “You
do
want coffee?”

“Coffee would be great,” Aron said. “The newlyweds gone somewhere?”

Mattie could feel herself blushing. “Only upstairs. As soon as Eva turned in.” She headed for the storeroom-kitchen as Aron began setting up the checkerboard. Freddie and Justice came in, and the dog galumphed to Aron’s side.

“You sure this dog isn’t half horse?” he joked as he stroked the broad back.

“I wish,” Mattie replied. “It’d make getting up to my claim so much easier.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re staying in town through the worst of winter,” Aron said. He didn’t look up as he added, “It gives us all less to worry about and makes the town so much prettier.”

Mattie curtsied. “Thank you, Reverend Gallagher. Keep it up, and you’ll earn a piece of the mince pie I made with Aunt Lou today.”

Aron chuckled. “It makes the town prettier and more civilized. And did I mention prettier?”

“I think you’re real pretty too, Mattie,” Freddie piped up.

“That does it, gentlemen. Two pieces of pie with coffee coming up.” Mattie headed for the stove.

Mattie had barely finished tidying up the kitchen when Freddie, after beating Aron two out of three games of checkers, stretched and announced—rather loudly, she thought—that he was ready to turn in for the night. She bade him good-night and accepted Aron’s offer to walk her to her room at the Berg sisters’ shop, but before she could grab her coat off the hook by the door, Aron asked if they could talk for a bit.

“I’ll heat up the coffee,” he said.

“And I suppose you could force yourself to eat yet another piece of pie,” Mattie teased.

He shook his head. “No—just coffee’s fine.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“Of course not,” Aron said. “I just”—he set the coffeepot on to heat while he talked—“I just wanted to ask you about something Freddie told me the other day.” He motioned for her to sit down at the table, then pulled out a chair for himself and sat down. “Something about an angel appearing up at Mattie’s Claim.”

Mattie looked away for a moment. She swallowed. “I see.”

His voice was gentle. “I’m a little surprised it took all this time to learn exactly how terrible that experience was. Freddie said you’d both agreed not to say much about it, but he had some questions for me. About angels, mostly.” When Mattie was still quiet, he said, “It seems Freddie wasn’t completely unconscious the entire time. He’s remembering more as time goes on.” He cleared his throat. “You made it sound like that day was more about robbery than anything else. Which would be frightening enough if that was all that happened, but, Mattie—”

She interrupted him. “It’s not exactly the kind of thing a person wants to relive.”

“No. I suppose not.” Aron got up, poured coffee, and set steaming mugs on the table before them. “I apologize if this is upsetting you. I just wanted—”

“If you’re upset about some conspiracy to hide the truth, that’s not why I asked Freddie if we could avoid repeating the gory details.” She was surprised when tears sprang to her eyes as she thought back to that day.

“No,” Aron said, shaking his head. “That’s not it at all. I just wanted you to know . . .” He reached across the table and took her hands in his. “I just wanted you to know how glad I am you’re both all right. And how sorry I am you had to go through something like that—with or without angels in attendance.”

Was it her imagination, or was he fighting off tears? “Thank you,” Mattie said. It wasn’t until her palms were warming around a steaming mug of the strong brew that she spoke again. “So—what did you tell Freddie? What do you think?”

“About?”

“Angels. Miracles.”

He thought for a moment before saying, “I’ve never personally witnessed a miracle. I suppose most people would be inclined to think Freddie was . . . exaggerating.”

“That’s the main reason I told him we should keep the details of that day to ourselves.” She looked down at the table as she murmured, “People probably get put in asylums for telling stories like that. And Freddie . . . Freddie gets made fun of enough already.”

“I know what you mean.” Aron sat back in his chair. “We don’t ever have to talk about it again if you don’t want to.” His blue-gray eyes stared at her intently. “I only brought it up because when I realized how close I came—we all came—to losing you . . .”

Suddenly she
did
want to talk about that day. To have him know how it had impacted her. “I prayed,” she blurted out. “Up there. That day.”

“You must have been so terrified.”

She shrugged. “I was at first. But then . . . it changed. I prayed and it changed.” She paused. “It wasn’t even a real prayer. All I could think was
help me help me help me.
No
heavenly Father
s or even an
amen.
But the minute I threw those words up, this unbelievable calm just . . . descended.” She shook her head. “And even though I was in the middle of the worst thing I could imagine happening, I had such an uncanny sense of . . . peace.” She frowned. “Do you think that was God?”

“Of course it was God,” Aron said. “He answered the thief on the cross. He answered me. Why wouldn’t He answer you?”

She swallowed. “There’s something else. I was really getting caught up in the gold.” She stared into her coffee. “In spite of all your sermons warning against it. Anyway, that day, all I cared about was Freddie being all right. The gold didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but my sweet friend.” She choked back tears. “You know, right before that happened I told God it would be all right if he wanted to dump some faith on me.” She looked across the table at Aron. “You were part of the reason I did that.”

“I was?”

She nodded. “Seeing what faith did in you made me wish—” She paused. “Both you and Aunt Lou have something I don’t. Didn’t, I guess I should say. Lately it seems like maybe God
has
dumped some faith into my hard head.” She looked straight at him. “Does it work that way?”

Aron smiled. “You mind some preacher talk?”

“I think I’m asking for preacher talk.”

“All right, then. There’s a verse that speaks to what you’re asking me. It goes like this: ‘For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: not of works, lest any man should boast.’ What I understand that to mean is that our salvation comes through faith. And that not only is the salvation a gift, so is the faith.
Both
come from God.”

“So God
does
dump faith on people.”

Aron chuckled. “Yes.”

Mattie smiled. “I think He’s done it to me. Actually, I think he did it before whatever happened between Freddie and his angel. I can’t really say when, but things I knew in here,” she said, tapping her head, “started making sense here.” She put her hand over her heart.

“Dumping’s good,” Aron said.

“Yes,” Mattie agreed. “It is.”

As December went by, the snows piled high and the temperature dropped. Mattie completely gave up the idea of wintering on her claim. She climbed the gulch once a week and played at prospecting just enough to “prove interest” should Ellis Gates and company decide to challenge her right to the claim, but otherwise she continued dividing her time between working at Garth and Company and cooking with Aunt Lou. It became common knowledge that if you needed the preacher, the first place to look was wherever Mattie O’Keefe was hanging her hat.

Mattie was sweeping the store one day when the back door opened and a tree walked in. At least that was how it looked, for Freddie was entirely camouflaged in a mass of evergreen. “Mor says we’re having a true Christmas this year,” Freddie said, his face beaming with joy as he clomped toward the front of the store and leaned the tree against a counter while he took off his coat. “Can you help me set it up?”

Mattie and Freddie spent the next hour trimming bottom branches away, melting enough snow to fill a bucket with water and bracing the tree inside the bucket until finally a bona fide Christmas tree graced the front window of Garth and Company. That evening, Swede and Mattie and Aunt Lou gathered around the storeroom table with paper and scissors, creating ornaments and a paper chain garland for the tree while the men played checkers. It was, Mattie thought, as close to a perfect evening as she’d ever experienced.

On Christmas morning moonlight reflected off the deep snow outside Mattie’s window at the Berg sisters’ shop and provided just enough light for her to see that Justice was at the door wagging his tail at whoever had just awakened her by knocking on the door. Throwing a blanket across her shoulders, Mattie climbed out of bed and padded barefoot across the cold floor to stand beside Justice. She opened the door to see footprints in the snow and a piece of paper weighted down by a rock. With a glance in either direction, Mattie picked up the note and closed the door. Lighting the lamp at her bedside, she read,
Have coffee brewing at the store. Aron.

“He has coffee brewing,” Mattie grumbled as she looked down at Justice. “I think I’m being summoned. Should I go?” Justice gave a low yip and wagged his tail.

“You just want to go out and play in the snow,” Mattie said. “You don’t
care
that it’s twenty below, do you?” By way of answering, Justice scratched at the door. “All right, all right,” Mattie said. “Coffee with a handsome preacher. I guess there are worse ways to spend Christmas morning.”

Whatever Mattie had expected to find at the store, this wasn’t it. He’d lighted the candles on the tree. Just for her.

“I got permission,” he said softly as he put his open hand at her waist and guided her closer.

“It’s . . . breathtaking,” she said.

“No,
you
are breathtaking.”

Mattie turned to look up at him.

“Merry Christmas,” he said. “Do you like my surprise?”

She nodded. “And . . . you. I like you.”

He chuckled. “I was honestly hoping for a little more than
liking.
But I’ll settle for
like.
For now.”

She swallowed. “Maybe I lied.”

“About what?”

“Just now. I mean I
do
like you, but . . . it’s changing.”

He cupped her face in his palm and traced her jaw slowly, ending at her lips. His eyes never left hers. “You can’t lie if you’re gonna be a preacher’s wife.”

Mattie took in a quick breath. “Wife?”

He nodded. “I love you, Mattie. Will you marry me?”

Closing her eyes, Mattie leaned in, wrapped her arms around him, and murmured, “I will.”

“Thank you, Father,” the handsome preacher said. And they kissed in the golden light of Christmas morning.