A Treasure Concealed (19 page)

Emily shook her head. “No. I needed some air.”

“Why don't you sit here?” He helped her to a chair and then took the seat beside her. “You look like you've been injured.” He motioned to her bruised cheek.

Emily started to nod, but doing so hurt and she stopped. “I was. My father even more so. He required surgery and is now recovering.”

“I see. Well, I shall pray for him, and for you. Might I know your names?”

“Emily. Emily Carver. My father is Henry Carver. We're from Yogo City currently.”

“My name is Reverend Morgan.”

Just then one of the nurses stepped outside with a basket over one arm. “Why, Reverend Morgan, I didn't realize you had come.”

“I just arrived,” the man said, getting to his feet. “I met this young woman and decided to have a little chat before I went inside to check on Bert.”

The nurse frowned. “I'm afraid he passed on early this morning, Reverend.”

The man gave a solemn nod. “It's just as we anticipated. Thank you for letting me know.”

“He went peacefully,” she added. “I'm sure he was comforted by all you said and did for him.”

“You are kind to say so,” the man replied. “I suppose now I shall have more time to visit with my new friend.”

The nurse nodded. “I'm off to collect some supplies from the drugstore. I hope to see you again soon.”

The man chuckled. “I'll most likely still be here when you return.”

She smiled and made her way down the steps. The reverend waited until she was a little way down the road before he sat back down and turned to Emily.

“So why don't you tell me what happened to bring on such tears?”

D
ecisions had to be made. That's what Emily had reminded herself every day since coming to Lewistown. Unfortunately, making decisions seemed to be the one thing that eluded her.

“So it's been a week,” Reverend Morgan said, sitting down across from Emily.

“It has.” Emily glanced up from the oatmeal and coffee that had been furnished by the poorhouse for her breakfast. How she missed the fresh eggs her chickens had produced. She hoped they were laying well for Millie.

“And how is your father?”

She shook her head and met the old man's pale blue eyes. “Not much improved. The doctor doesn't know if he'll ever walk again.”

The minister nodded. “I know that must be hard to consider.”

“It's more than hard. My father has never been debilitated in the slightest way. If he can't walk and get around as he did before, I don't think he'll live long.”

“You might be surprised, Miss Emily. A man can usually find a reason to go on, even with such dire consequences. I've
enjoyed getting to know your father. He has a strong faith, and that will help him in the healing process.”

“Why? Why should it help?” Her tone was bitter, but he didn't so much as offer a condemning look.

“You have been through a lot, Miss Emily. I know it's been difficult to rest in the Lord. But don't turn your back on God just because things got hard. If you don't put your trust in God, you'll find someone or something else to place it in, and that will never go well.”

Emily knew he was right, but she had nursed this grudge ever since the shooting. She hadn't even been able to pray without the words sounding sarcastic and challenging.

She gave a long sigh. “I suppose God is quite angry with me for my lack of faith. I've tried not to be so . . . so . . . rebellious.” She looked up, feeling rather sheepish. “That's really it. I'm rebelling—fighting against what I know to be true. Fighting against God.”

“We all do from time to time.”

“I just don't understand. I pray and pray, but it's like no one is listening.”

The old man gave her a gentle smile. There was a tenderness in his expression that made Emily feel guilty. “Never think that God isn't listening. And never think that He doesn't understand how you feel or that He's put you aside. You've done that to yourself. Repentance is up to you. Perhaps you've finally come to that place in life where you can't rely upon your parents' faith, but must accept salvation for yourself.” Even with this statement his tone offered no condemnation.

Emily pondered his meaning, wondering if there was something she wasn't understanding about faith in God and what was required of her. She'd sat through a good many church services. Had she missed something?

Reverend Morgan got to his feet. “Keep at it, Miss Emily. Keep praying. God is listening, I promise you. He will answer. Meanwhile, I'll keep asking around about available jobs. Just because I haven't found anything yet doesn't mean I won't.”

Emily wanted to believe that God was listening—that Reverend Morgan would find someone to hire her—but it was hard. Maybe the hardest thing she'd ever done. She sighed and focused on her food as the pastor set out across the room to speak to another resident. Maybe she was making it too hard.

I want to know that you're there, God.
I need to know that you care. I need to
see proof that you haven't abandoned us. I suppose
that's selfish, but I feel so alone. Just when
I think I can endure the problems set before me, something else happens and I crumble.

She finished her breakfast and took her dishes to the tub where they would be collected for washing. Yesterday she had helped with the cleanup and today she had helped to cook. Tomorrow she was supposed to help with the ironing, but she had come to the conclusion that tomorrow she would return to Utica. The only problem was how.

Mulling over that challenge, Emily made her way outside. A cold November wind whipped at her borrowed shawl. Winter was definitely on its way.

Pulling the shawl up over her head, Emily tucked her chin and made her way across the porch. She kept the floor of the porch her focus, and only when a pair of boots appeared before her did Emily lift her gaze.

There she found the most beautiful brown eyes staring back at her. “Caeden.” She shook her head and the shawl fell away. “What are you doing here?”

He didn't answer her, but instead pulled her into his arms. For several minutes all he did was hold her close, and Emily
melted against him. His strength seemed to bolster her, and a tiny bit of hope crept into her heart. Had God sent him? Had God heard her prayers and sent Caeden as an answer?

Caeden pulled away just enough to touch her cheek. Emily knew the bruise had faded considerably, but it was still visible in hues of yellow and purple. He frowned. “I heard about this.” He reached out and gently tipped her head forward. “And this.”

Emily straightened. “But I thought you were to be in Havre meeting the other geologists.”

“It's a long story. First tell me how your father is doing.”

She shook her head and felt tears well in her eyes. “Not so good. He'll survive his wounds, but the doctor doesn't know if he'll ever walk. There was so much damage and swelling that the pressure has left him unable to feel much below the waist. There's a chance this will change when the swelling goes down. The doctor told us to have hope, but I am all out of that commodity. At least I was.”

His gaze met hers. “I'm sorry I wasn't around to help. I should have figured Davies would wait until I left and you two were alone again.”

“The marshal is convinced it wasn't Davies, because he was supposedly in the jail when the attack happened. But, Caeden, I know it was him. My memory isn't clear on some of the attack, but that much I know. Pa remembers it too.” The wind blew hard and Emily shivered.

“Where are you staying?”

“Right here at the poorhouse.”

He took hold of her arm. “Come on. I'm going to get you a room and a hot bath at the hotel.”

“I can't afford that, Caeden.”

“Well, I can and I insist. You were also wounded, and you need to take better care of yourself. You look like you've lost
at least ten pounds.” He didn't allow her any chance to protest but hurried her down the street.

“I have a room here and it's quite nice. I think you'll like it.”

“I have a cot at the poorhouse,” she told him. “It's sufficient.”

Caeden looked at her with an expression that Emily couldn't quite figure out. He looked both sad and angry. “The hotel is a better place for you.” He opened the door and pushed her through. “After I arrange for your room, I'm going to go back to the poorhouse and see what I can do for your father. He'll have the best of care. I promise you.”

Gratitude flooded Emily's heart. “You don't have to do that.”

“I know, but I want to. What good is being wealthy if you can't benefit your friends?” He smiled. “Now be a good girl and cooperate.”

He pulled her with him to the front desk. A young woman appeared and gave Caeden a nod. “Mr. Thibault, I see you're back. What can I do for you?”

“This woman is a friend of mine, Miss Emily Carver. Her father is in the hospital with serious injuries. I'd like to secure a room for her—a nice room—oh, and a hot bath.” He took out his wallet and produced several bills. “This should cover things initially. I'll be responsible for anything else.”

The young woman looked at Emily and smiled. “Miss Carver, we are glad to have you, but sorry to hear about your father.”

“Thank you,” Emily said, still uncertain about this new arrangement.

“If you'll just sign the register, I'll take you upstairs to the bath. Then I'll prepare a room for you and bring you a key.” She looked over the edge of the counter. “Do you have bags?”

Emily shook her head. “No, they brought us here so quickly there wasn't time to bring anything.”

“I'll see to that,” Caeden promised.

Her stomach knotted. Emily knew she should refuse all of this and return to the poorhouse. It wasn't Caeden's responsibility to take care of her, and what if he got the wrong idea? What if she did?

“I don't know what to say. I'm grateful, of course, but . . .” What could she tell him?
I'm grateful, but I'm also in love with you.

“Just go get a bath. I'll be back shortly. We'll have some lunch together and figure out what to do next.”

Emily nodded and let the young woman lead her upstairs. Her mind was overwhelmed with thoughts of everything that had just happened.

“My name is Anna,” the girl told her. “If you need anything, just let me know.” She stopped at a room just off the stairs. “This is the bathing room. We have heated water and fresh towels. There's soap on the counter. The plain one is for men and the scented one for women.”

Emily caught sight of the large porcelain bathing tub. She'd never seen anything quite like it. Anna instructed her as to how to get the water and where to leave her towel.

“If you want me to wash your clothes, I can do that as well.”

Emily shook her head. “I haven't anything else to wear. As I mentioned, my father and I were brought over here in a hurry. We didn't have time to get any of our belongings.” Not that she had much anyway, but there was no sense sharing that with the woman.

Anna stepped back and gave Emily a quick glance. “You look about my size. I'll lend you some things.”

“Oh, I couldn't.” Emily's protest fell on deaf ears.

“I insist. Your things are in need of a good washing—they're stained with blood. Besides, Mr. Thibault said he would arrange some things for you, so it will only be a short time before you have your own clothes.”

She smiled so sweetly that Emily couldn't refuse. “Very well. I am obliged to you.”

Anna's countenance seemed to glow. “God calls us to bear one another's burdens. I like being able to help a soul in need.”

Emily returned her smile. “You are a very kind woman, and I thank you.”

Emily dressed in the blue calico print gown and marveled at her appearance in the bathing room mirror. Anna had appeared just as Emily had concluded her bath, and she not only brought the gown but undergarments as well. They fit as though they'd been made for her.

The mirror revealed the fading bruise on her face, but it also revealed a look of hope in her eyes that had been absent since the attack. She reached for the damp towel and dried her hair as best she could. It had been most difficult to wash her hair. The nurse at the county farm had tried to help Emily clean away the blood with a wet towel, but her hair still needed a good wash. There was no time to sit before a fire and let it dry thoroughly, so Emily braided it and wound it in a knot and pinned it atop her head, careful to avoid the area with stitches. The finished picture left her feeling feminine and rather attractive. For a moment Emily could only marvel at the reflection.

“Is that really me?”

Anna laughed. “You're very pretty, even with the bruise. Do you want me to show you to your room now?”

Emily shook her head. “No, I need to go speak with my father. My time in the bath helped me to think through some things.”

She'd given a lot of thought to what she needed to do. There wasn't any work available in town for her. Reverend Morgan
had already spent some time asking around. Utica and Yogo City would be the same, but if she returned to their place, she could sell the animals and see if Millie would buy back the mining claim.

Anna finished gathering the towels. “I'll have your key at the desk downstairs. When you get back, just ask for it and we'll show you to your room.”

Emily started to leave, then paused. “If Mr. Thibault returns before I do, would you tell him I won't be long?”

“Of course.” Anna picked up Emily's wool shawl. “Here. You'll need this.”

Emily wrapped the shawl around her shoulders as she made her way downstairs. She knew it wasn't going to be easy to confront her father about what needed to be done, but she had to try. Hopefully, he would see reason and understand her plan.