A Treasure Concealed (28 page)

“Who . . . who is it?”

The silence seemed ominous, but then a familiar voice called out. “It's me, Miss Emily. Jake Hoover.”

Emily sighed in relief and pocketed the pistol before opening the door. “Jake.” She forced a smile even though she was still trembling from head to toe. “Come in.”

“Mighty cold out there,” he said from behind a frost-covered beard. “Glad I grew my whiskers back.”

She chuckled. “They have always looked good on you. What brings you here?” Emily glanced over to where her father still slept and lowered her voice. “Pa's still asleep.”

Jake nodded. “I only figured to stop in and check up on you, and I do apologize for the early hour. Millie asked me to come. She's worried about you and your pa.”

“I have to admit I've got some worries of my own.” Emily drew a deep breath. “Did she tell you about Kirk Davies having a brother?”

“She did. That's partly why I came by. Millie wanted me to convince you and your pa to come up to her place.”

“I wish we could.” Emily moved to the stove and opened the door to throw in some more wood. She motioned Jake to take a seat. “I'll get some coffee on.”

Her father began to stir. No doubt he'd come fully awake in a matter of moments. Emily hoped Jake might have the ability to convince her father that leaving this isolated cabin was for the best. She cast a quick glance at Jake and felt a sense of hopelessness. Her father was stubborn and convinced that they could fend for themselves. Ever since hearing about Taber Davies, he'd taken to sitting in his wheelchair with a rifle settled across his lap. Even now, the Winchester rested beside his cot.

Emily put the coffee on, then turned back to meet Jake's watchful eye. “How about some breakfast?” She motioned to the far side of the cabin, where her hens were keeping warm in one of the crates left after unpacking all of Caeden's gifts. “I'm sure to have some eggs.”

Jake nodded in an uncharacteristic solemnity. It was as if he could read her mind and understood that his task of convincing them to leave was useless. “That sounds good, Miss Emily.”

She returned his nod. One way or another . . . they would get through this. She only hoped it would be without injury or the heavy guilt of having blood on her hands.

J
ake had no luck in talking Emily's father into leaving the cabin. He said nothing more on the matter but had assured Emily that he and some of the other men would keep an eye on the Carvers. It was the best Emily could hope for.

She went about her chores in guarded precision, paying the closest attention to the immediate area around the house and the animals' lean-to. Jake had mentioned as he left that being watchful and aware of what they had and where they'd placed it would benefit her most.

“Sometimes,” he'd told her, “what's missing is just as important as what suddenly appears. Both can signal trouble.”

That evening, Emily fell into bed feeling a little less worried. Whenever she'd started to fear, she remembered Jake's promise to keep watch, as well as God's faithfulness. God had protected them through so many bad situations. She knew He wouldn't leave them now.

The next morning she awoke to the crowing of the rooster. The poor old boy wasn't at all happy to be caged and separated
from his ladies, but given his temperamental nature, Emily found it necessary to keep him confined.

Seeing that her father was already awake, Emily helped him dress, then assisted him into the wheelchair. “I'm going out to check on Bonnie-Belle and Nellie. Once I've got them fed and watered, I'll fix your breakfast.”

“Don't forget to take your pistol.”

Emily was already at the door pulling on her coat. She patted the pocket. “I have it right here.”

Her father nodded, but she could see the worry in his eyes. “Don't fret, Pa. I'm doing everything you told me to do. I won't take any chances.” She drew on her gloves and then a thick wool cap that her father often used.

She wasn't surprised to find Zed, one of the few miners who remained in the area, coming to call. He carried a rifle ever so casually at his side as he approached the cabin.

“Pa will be glad to see you.” She gave Zed a smile. “I'm glad to see you myself. I'm heading out to feed the animals and check on Bonnie-Belle. She's due to calve any day now.”

“I'll come along with you,” the grizzled old man replied. “Then I'd be much obliged to see your pa and maybe talk you out of a cup of coffee with him.”

Emily laughed and gave the old man a nod. “You can talk me out of breakfast too. I put the coffee on and the biscuits in the oven before coming out here. Oh, and I have plenty of eggs. My hens really enjoy the warmth of the cabin, although that old rooster is less inclined to be confined. He's been a real annoyance.”

Zed laughed. “Put him out in the snow for a time. He'll settle down soon enough.” As if the bird had overheard the comment, he let go a loud crowing that left both Emily and Zed chuckling.

Emily checked Bonnie-Belle and gave her some extra hay. “I
know she'll be glad to have this baby.” Emily stroked the cow's neck. Next she moved to the makeshift stall where Nellie was stabled. “Well, hello, Nellie-girl, and how are you this fine day?” She filled the mule's trough with hay while Zed kept watch. It felt so much better to have someone stand guard. Her last act was to break the ice on the water trough. Zed helped her with this, handing her his rifle while he took the ax and made easy work of the situation.

“That ought to hold them for a while,” Emily said, exchanging the ax he held for his rifle. She returned the ax to the woodpile, then together they headed back to the cabin.

“I brought water up yesterday while Jake was still here.” She started to suggest bringing in firewood now but decided it could wait until after breakfast.

“As I was saying,” she continued, “I have plenty of water and just put a pot of coffee on before you arrived. I'm sure it's ready.”

She led the way back to the cabin with Zed close behind. It was reassuring to have the men of Yogo City looking out for her and Pa.

Inside the cabin, Emily found her father ever ready with his rifle. He relaxed at the sight of Zed. “Look who's come to share breakfast with you.” She took off her hat and gloves and dropped them by the door. “I found him when I went to do my chores.” She deposited her coat and then headed for the kitchen.

“Zed, good to see you.”

“How're ya feelin', Henry?” The old man didn't seem to even notice the snow on his boots, but crossed the room to where Emily's father sat.

“Doin' better every day. Won't be long before I'm back to pannin' the river. Now come on over to the table and have a seat. Emily's promised me some biscuits and gravy.”

“Sounds mighty good. Ain't had that in some time. Been
mostly eatin' on my jerked meat and flapjacks these days.” He followed Henry's wheelchair to the table and waited until he was positioned before taking a chair. “'Course, she mentioned some eggs as well.”

“You can have both, Zed.” Emily held up two cast-iron skillets. “Thanks to everyone's generosity, I have two pans to cook in, plus a stewpot. We're living in high clover.”

The men chuckled while Emily turned back to the stove. She was grateful that her father's friends had been so attentive. Her father needed his male companions to keep his spirits high. It was clearly a job that Emily couldn't do—at least not in the same capacity.

The men talked about the mining claims and their glory days while Emily checked the biscuits. They were nearly done. She refocused her attention on fixing canned-milk gravy with ham drippings and diced pieces of ham. She added salt and flour to the mix and stirred until it started to thicken. While this cooked a bit more, she checked the biscuits again and found them nice and brown. Lastly, she fried up four eggs.

Within a few moments she had the meal on the table and was pouring mugs of coffee for her father and Zed. “I hope this is strong enough for you, Zed.” She put one of the steaming cups in front of him. “If you need milk for it, I can open a can, but we haven't any fresh.”

The old man took a moment to warm his hands on the cup and then sampled it as Emily handed her father his coffee. “Don't need a thing. It's just right. Everything's just right when a fella gets fed by a pretty gal.”

Pa laughed. “You got that right. Emmy, sit down and I'll offer thanks.”

She did as he asked and felt a sense of peace wash over her. God truly was watching over them, and no matter what hap
pened, she knew He had it under control. She silently prayed that God would see fit to return Caeden to her soon and added a desire for answers regarding her future. Emily might have gone on praying about those answers, but she heard her pa's amen and knew the two men would question her if she continued to bow in prayer.

Lifting her face, Emily smiled and picked up the plate of biscuits. “Help yourself, Zed.”

The breakfast passed in a friendly conversation about Emily's young man, the heavy snows, and of course whether or not they would strike it rich come spring. Emily tried not to give in to worry about her future, but the more the men discussed the coming year, the more she pondered what she would do. If Caeden did return and ask her to marry him, she knew the matter would bear some consideration given her father's condition. There would also be the question of where Caeden would expect them to live . . . and even how. Emily knew he'd enjoyed living off the land and traveling from place to place, while she still longed for a house she could call her own.

Zed departed shortly after breakfast, leaving Emily to clean up while her father picked up the Sears and Roebuck catalog Emily had brought back from Lewistown. He thumbed through in silence, but Emily knew he was bored. She tried to think of something—anything she could have him do while seated in the wheelchair. Caeden had supplied them with new things, so fixing stuff wasn't even a needed chore. Even so, Emily knew there had to be something.

Just then a thought came to her. She had planned to kill one of the hens that had never been good at laying. She and her father had talked many times of having a hunger for fried chicken, and Emily knew her father could be very useful in plucking feathers and cutting up the bird.

“Pa, I wonder if I could ask you to help me with something.”

Her father looked up in surprise. “What did you have in mind?” He sounded most anxious.

“Well, you know we've talked about butchering one of the hens. I thought I might do that today, but I have plenty of other chores. If I kill the hen, I wondered if you'd pluck her and cut her into pieces. That way I could fry her up for supper. Otherwise it'll have to wait, because I need to wash clothes today.”

Her father seemed relieved. “I'd be right happy to see to that. Wouldn't be no trouble at all. In fact, I could probably be on my feet long enough to kill the bird as well.”

“No, it's too slick outside. It'll only take me a minute, but the rest would tie me up for some time. I'll see to it as soon as I finish cleaning up.” She turned back to the dishes and smiled. Now, if she could just think up something for him to do each day.

It was nearly evening by the time Emily realized the hour. She'd managed to get their clothes washed and hung on the opposite end of the room, and her father had been true to his word and handled butchering the hen. Emily saw that the job had given him real purpose. Her father's spirits seemed considerably higher when she'd taken the chicken from him.

With the chicken frying in a large cast-iron skillet, Emily boiled a few potatoes to go along with their meal. Checking the stove, she added the last pieces of wood to the fire.

“I need to fetch us some wood before it's dark.” She headed for the door and pulled on her coat. She put her hand in her pocket and felt for the pistol. “I'll leave the door open so you can hear me if anything goes amiss, but I'm sure old Jim or Jake will be watching over us.”

Her father gave her a nod and checked his rifle. “Don't be long.”

“It's too cold out there to be very long at such a task.”

She didn't bother with her hat or gloves. Gloves would just make it harder to handle the gun should the need arise. She opened the door and looked out across the hills. The sun had set in a swirl of orange, red, and purple. It was one of the things she liked most about Montana—the sunsets were incredible and second only to the sunrises.

The woodpile was just at the side of the cabin, so Emily felt fairly safe. If someone were hiding out in the trees, they would still have to cross the open space to reach her, and by that time she could have her gun in hand.

She gave one more quick glance at the thick stand of pines before picking up several of the split logs. When her arms were full she hurried her steps back to the cabin and breathed a sigh of relief.

Her father nodded and relaxed his hold on the rifle. “That ought to do us through the night.”

“I thought so too.”

She put the wood in a box by the stove, then went to close the door. Before she could get it completely shut, however, Emily found it pushed back, and a thickly bearded man took hold of her.

“Evenin', Carvers. Glad to find you at home.”

Emily stiffened as the man's hold on her tightened. She saw her father lift his rifle and knew without looking that the man was Taber Davies. Thankfully he held her left arm. If she could just slip her right hand into her pocket without drawing his attention she could reach her pistol.

“I'd drop that rifle over the side of your chair if I were you,” Davies commanded her father. “See, I have a gun on your
daughter, and I'll put a hole in her. Not a killin' hole, mind you, just one to make her suffer while I put the next one in you.”

Emily saw her father's indecision. “You might as well shoot him, Pa. He'll kill us either way.”

“Now, that's not a very friendly thing to say.” Davies pushed her in far enough to get the door closed behind them. “I never said nothing about killing either one of you.” He sniffed the air. “Smells mighty good in here. I think maybe I'll let you feed me.”

“And then kill us? That is why you're here, isn't it, Mr. Davies?” Emily turned enough to see his cold blue eyes.

He laughed but kept his gun fixed on her. “I suppose you got me all figured out. But you can never tell. I might like your cookin' so much that I'll just take you along with me once I finish with your pa. I gave Kirk my promise that I'd take care of this matter for him. Promised him that on his deathbed.”

“And you blame me for his death, no doubt.” Emily saw no reason for pretense. Davies was bent on revenge, and there was no sense in pleading or trying to talk him out of it. Men like Davies were never willing to compromise.

“The doc did say that your bite is what killed him, so you can't very well deny being responsible for the job. Seems between you and your pa you managed to kill off my brothers. They were all I had left of my family.” Emily's father moved the tiniest bit, and Taber turned back to refocus the revolver on him. “Now, you'd best do what I said, old man. I don't have a lot of patience.”