A Treasure Concealed (15 page)

“They are sapphires,” the jeweler told Caeden as he examined Emily's little blue pebbles. “I've never seen such clarity and color on stones found in Montana. They might well be worth a great deal.”

“That was my thought as well.”

“Where did you say you found these?” The man looked up with an expression that almost suggested hunger.

“I didn't.” Caeden knew better than to say a word on the location. He knew without a doubt that should he mention Yogo City, the man would most likely share the information with anyone and everyone. He picked up the stones he'd brought and put them in a small box with the others. After they were secure, he dug out a dollar and put it on the table. “For your trouble.”

“Are they for sale?” the man called out as Caeden headed for the door.

“No, I'm afraid not. At least not at this time. I want to have them examined back east before I advise the owner of what to do.” It was only partially true. Caeden did want to have the value estimated by professionals back east, but he had Emily's permission to do with them as he thought right. If they turned out to be of great value, as he believed them to be, he would sell them and return with the money. He liked the idea of putting a small fortune in Emily's hands. He could only imagine her happiness at finally seeing her father strike it rich.

Making his way to the post office, Caeden mentally composed a note to his friend in New York City. The man was an expert on gemstones, and he would know exactly what the stones were worth and who might be willing to buy them. Better still, Caeden knew he could trust him.

At the counter, Caeden requested a piece of paper, then jotted
a note to the man explaining the situation and that he would return to his home in Albany by Christmas. He told the man that if they proved to be valuable, he had permission to sell them to the highest bidder and to send the check to his uncle's house.

“I'm traveling,” Caeden explained to the clerk. “Is it possible to pay for you to package this?”

The man eyed the small box and note. “Of course.” He figured the price for postage and packaging, and Caeden paid the man. With that task accomplished, Caeden's next stop was the bank.

The day passed without Caeden running into Arnold even once. He figured that to be very good luck on his part. He could only imagine that Arnold would try once again to corner him at supper, but Caeden was going to have his meal elsewhere. He had no intention of repeating the scene from breakfast.

By evening a light snow began to fall, and Caeden was feeling the effects of having skipped the noon meal. He concluded the arrangements for shipping his purchases to the Carvers, and by six o'clock he was on his way to a rather fine-looking restaurant he'd spied earlier while making his rounds.

Several lavishly dressed women were on the arms of their equally fashionable husbands as they entered the restaurant. Immediately Caeden thought of Emily. He'd found her a lovely gown and hoped it would fit. He'd mentioned to the clerk that the young woman had recently lost everything and would need a complete outfit—including things he might not realize. The woman understood and went to work gathering petticoats and other items Caeden would have been much too embarrassed to ask for.

Other couples were seated inside when a smartly dressed man led him to a small, intimate table in the corner of the room. Caeden took his seat, all the while imagining Emily in
that new gown. He would love to see her in it. Not only that, but he would love to show her off. She deserved that, and yet most of her life she had hidden her beauty.

This is ridiculous
.

He picked up the menu and tried to force such thoughts from his mind. Emily wasn't a part of his plans. He wasn't a part of her plans. They were far too different in what they wanted. Weren't they?

But Caeden couldn't forget how neatly she fit in his arms, nor how those dark brown eyes looked up at him with such intensity of emotion that all he wanted to do was kiss her.

Why is this so hard? Why can't I put Emily Carver aside as easily as I do Catherine Arnold
?

Because you don't love Catherine,
a voice seemed to speak from deep within his heart.

I
'm going to need your help today at the claim,” Emily's father announced after finishing breakfast. “We're gonna dig out a great deal of earth before the ground freezes hard. Now that the weather has warmed up enough to melt some of the snow, I need to act fast before the next storm.”

“What are you going to do with the dirt?” Emily had no desire to accompany her father to his mining site, but she could see he was determined.

“It's vital that I bring the dirt down to the river, where I can wash it a little bit at a time. I need to have enough to work with through the winter. I figure we'll take the cart and Nellie and make several trips. If you'll help me, I know we can finish by dark.”

Emily buttered a piece of toasted bread. “I suppose I can, but I had hoped you would take a moment to hear me out about something.”

Her father's brows knit together in confusion. “What's on your mind?”

Emily put the toast aside. “All the old-timers around here say
that they think this winter is going to be a hard one. If they're right, I don't know how we can hope to make it through. This cabin is full of holes where the chinking is gone or never existed to begin with. Our little stove can hardly be expected to keep the place dry and warm should the temperatures plummet below zero.

“Even Millie says it's not going to be comfortable for us here. She suggests that if we stay, we should probably board at her place. However, I think we should consider moving to Great Falls. You and I would both be able to get jobs of some sort, and then when the weather warms we could return.”

“To find our claim jumped,” her father said, shaking his head. “No, sirree. I won't risk it. I know there's gold to be had. The man Davies works for knows it too—otherwise, he wouldn't be buyin' up land left and right. Millie knows it as well and goes out to work her own claims. She believes there's a fortune in the ground just beggin' to be dug up.”

“Be that as it may, we can hardly expect to get through a bad winter of cold and heavy snows. We aren't equipped, Pa.”

He nodded. “But we will be. See, I plan to lay in more supplies before winter. That's why I want your help. Now, we can't just sit here jawin' about it. We got to get out there and get to diggin'. I know you have your doubts, but I'm tellin' you we're gonna get enough gold to see us through the winter.”

Emily knew there was no reasoning with him. She got up and gathered the dishes. “Very well, Pa. I'll help you as much as I can. But I won't pretend to be happy about it. I think we're being foolish.”

“Oh, don't be in such despair, Emmy. You'll see. God has always provided for us, and He always will.”

But instead of comfort, her father's words only served to add further irritation. Why couldn't God provide by giving her
father a different dream that included sensible housing and a regular job?

Fifteen minutes later Emily stood beside the cart as her father harnessed Nellie. She felt the entire situation was hopeless. Why could her father not see reason? How was it that his desire for gold never waned—even when he had nothing to show for it?

“There we are,” her father said. He took hold of Nellie's harness and led her forward. “I borrowed an extra shovel last night. With both of us loadin' dirt, it'll take no time at all.”

Emily said nothing. She thought instead of Caeden. She missed him despite her good intentions to put him from her thoughts. In her dreams she saw him about to kiss her. And sometimes in her dreams she let him. Of course, Emily had never known a man's kiss and could only guess at what it might feel like.

They arrived at her father's mining site and wasted no time getting to work. Emily had never shied away from hard work, but she found the digging to be tedious. Her arm muscles burned as she continued to hoist shovelful after shovelful of the rocks and dirt into the wagon. Her father said nothing as they worked, although from time to time he hummed a tune or whistled.

How can he be so happy? How can he possibly go on believing in a massive gold strike? He's
spent his whole life looking for a treasure that doesn't exist.

Emily tried not to be angry about the situation, but she felt like a kettle about to boil over. She tried to remember her mother's encouraging words of how even in this God had a purpose. But to Emily it seemed as if God had played a very mean joke on them.

If God loved them so much, why did they have to endure all this suffering and pain? Why did her mother have to die? Why did Caeden have to leave?

There he was again. Caeden Thibault. She couldn't seem to shake Caeden's image, nor the memory of his arms around her.

“It's turned out to be a pretty mornin', don't you think?”

Emily looked at her father for a moment. He seemed so genuinely content. “Can I ask you a question, Pa?” Emily straightened from her digging. “Don't you ever question if this is what God really wants for you?”

He threw a shovelful of dirt into the cart, then shook his head. “Why should I question it?”

“Because you've been at it all of my life and it's never merited anything more than a bit of gold here or there. Never enough to be useful—not really.”

“It's seen us through,” her father countered. “How can I doubt that God's hand is in it? He's guided us to each place—of that I'm certain.”

“If He's guiding us . . . if He really cares, then why aren't we better off? Why haven't you found your treasure? You always told Mama that you'd one day strike it rich and then we could settle down. We'd live in a real house and have everything we needed or wanted. Now Mama's dead and we've lost everything . . . even her Bible. How can that be God's provision?”

For a short time he just looked at her as if willing Emily to understand. Then his shoulders sagged a bit, and his expression grew sad. “If I quit now, then my life will have meant nothin',” he said in a barely audible voice.

Emily shook her head. “How can you say that? You had a wife who loved and defended you to the very end. You have a daughter who loves you. How can a lack of physical treasure mean that your life has been for naught?”

Her father considered this for a moment. He kicked at the rocks, then finally answered. “I figure it's God's will for me. I
have to do what He's given me to do.” He looked up. “What's this all about, Em?”

“It's about the utter despair I feel given our situation. I have no idea of how I can possibly help us through the winter months with what little we have. I can't imagine us not freezing to death.”

“Have faith, daughter.”

Emily threw down the shovel. “I've had faith, but it doesn't seem to matter. I'm not at all sure God even cares about my faith.”

Henry Carver had never looked more shocked, and Emily immediately regretted her words. She didn't want to fight with him. Neither did she want to fight with God. Why did she have to feel so out of sorts with everything and everyone?

“I'm sorry, Pa. I know that my words are not what you want to hear.”

Emily looked at her father for a moment. She toyed with the idea of just changing the subject. It might be better to give up than to continue; after all, what could she possibly gain by hurting him with the truth?

“Em, you seem mighty unhappy.”

She took a deep breath. “This isn't the life I wanted, Pa. This isn't my dream. It wasn't Mama's dream. It's yours. You can't expect me to be happy living like this, going day after day never knowing what disaster might strike us next.”

A weariness overtook her, and Emily felt as though she were weighted down. “I never wanted to hurt you, Pa. That wasn't my desire. It still isn't. I just feel so confused right now. Mama wanted me to leave and strike out on my own after she died. She used to try to make me promise that I wouldn't just go on following you from camp to camp.”

He nodded. “I know that. She told me the same. I guess I just sort of figured you stayed because you wanted to.”

Emily went to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “I stayed because I love you and because I'm afraid of what might happen to you if I don't stay. I don't want you to be alone, but I also don't want this life. I hate it. I hate waking up each morning wondering what terrible thing will befall us today.” She let go of him and turned away. “I don't expect you to understand, because I don't understand it myself.”

Her father let go of his shovel and put his arm around her. “I didn't know you felt so strong about it. I don't want you stayin' because you feel you have to take care of me. I'm able to see to myself. Of course, I would miss your company. Just as I miss your ma's. Ain't nothin' the same without her.”

Emily felt horrible for her outburst. She had tried to pray away her feelings of hate for the mining life, along with those of love that she held for Caeden. Why was God not answering her prayers for contentment and the ability to put aside her own desires?

“I'm sorry, Pa. I should never have said anything, and I regret hurting you.”

“I'm glad you spoke your mind. I don't want you lyin' to me, even if you think it'll make me happy.” He paused and shook his head. “Truth is always best, and the truth . . . for me . . . is that I don't know how to do anything else. I suppose I could go to work diggin' and mining for one of those big companies, but all of my life I've been certain God had a fortune just waitin' for me. I suppose that sounds foolish given where I am now—old and without much of anything to show for my efforts.”

Emily hated the sound of defeat in his voice. “But you have me.” She turned and looked him in the eye. “And you had Mama's undying love. You can't say you haven't much of anything
to show for your efforts. Many a man lives out his life without love. Just look at what Caeden had to go through with his father. Do you know Caeden told me that he had never thought such love existed before seeing our family? You have a wealth of love, Pa. That ought to count for something.”

He gave her a smile, but in his eyes the weariness was evident. “I have been blessed with the love of a good wife and daughter, and it does count. It's all that keeps me goin' some days.”

Emily knew she would never change his mind about mining. She knew it would be impossible to force him to change. She sighed and smiled. “I suppose we ought to get back to work. That cart isn't going to fill itself.”

“We've looked all over for you. You didn't come back to the hotel for supper last night, and we feared the worst.” Bishop Arnold looked at Caeden and then exchanged a glance with his daughter. “Did you . . . sleep elsewhere?”

“No. I ate elsewhere and returned to get an early night's sleep. Our business is settled, so I can't imagine what you needed from me.”

Arnold smiled. “Well, the fact is there's a dance tomorrow and Catherine had her heart on attending. It's a fancy affair with many important people. I thought it would provide me the perfect opportunity to solicit support for the Republicans.”

“You don't need me for that. I have no desire to dance, even if I had the clothes for a formal gathering. Which I don't.”

“You are very nearly my size. I'm certain you could borrow some things from me and be just fine. I'm hoping that you'll do this as a favor to me.” He held up his hands. “I know you don't owe me a favor, Caeden, but I am appealing to your better nature.”

Caeden shook his head. “I don't have one.”

Catherine reached out to touch Caeden's arm. “I would so enjoy dancing with you. I have so much to tell you.”

She gave him a knowing look, reminding Caeden that she had been about to tell him something at their breakfast the previous day. He did battle with his conscience, thinking all the time of Emily. She so often endured unpleasantness for the sake of others. Couldn't he do the same—especially if it allowed him to finally hear what Catherine felt she needed to say?

“It would help me a great deal,” Bishop Arnold interjected. “If you were watching over Catherine, then I would feel free to mingle among the men and solicit their support. Perhaps with their support, the loss of yours won't be so detrimental.”

Caeden knew Arnold was trying to make him feel guilty, but it wouldn't work. If he agreed to this, it would be solely for the purpose of hearing what Catherine had to tell him.

“I will agree to accompany Catherine on one condition.” Caeden narrowed his eyes and fixed Arnold with a hard stare. “You will from this time forward leave me alone. You will not seek me out for any reason, and you will accept that I've no intention or obligation to marry your daughter.”

Arnold nodded. “Of course. Of course. That is perfectly acceptable.” He flashed Catherine a look that gave Caeden pause. Were they plotting something together?

“The affair begins at six. I will have a carriage, so meet us here in the lobby at a quarter till. Oh, and I will send the bellboy with the clothes you'll need.”