A Treasure Concealed (9 page)

“Mighty cold out there!” He caught sight of Caeden. “Good to have you back with us.”

“Good to be back. I hadn't expected snow so early. Makes sleeping outdoors less than cozy.”

“Well, you're welcome to sleep inside tonight.”

Caeden shook his head. “No, I'll be fine. I have some warm gear. I have a little heat stove I can use if things get really bad.”

Carver began a long conversation about his day at the sluice. He felt the show of color was good and that it proved it was only a matter of time before he would be able to dig out and wash enough ore to make his fortune.

Supper passed much too quickly. Emily said very little, but this only caused Caeden to watch her more closely. He found it impossible to keep his mind from drifting to thoughts of her—who she was and what she wanted out of life. He thought too of her mother's declaration and wondered if maybe, just maybe, there was something to it. Hadn't his own mother felt confident of God's direction? There had been many a time she had said as much, and Caeden had seen her follow through to a positive outcome. Perhaps Nyola Carver truly had heard something from the Almighty. He knew he was on dangerous ground, but Caeden felt almost helpless to keep his mind from its deductions. Emily was a beautiful young woman, and she had captivated his imagination in a way no other woman had ever done.

After a leisurely game of chess with Henry Carver, Caeden excused himself and made his way outside. The cold night air made a sharp contrast to the warmth of the cabin. He pulled his coat collar up and trudged on to the woodpile. No doubt chopping wood for a while would warm him up and clear his mind.

However, when Caeden finally went to bed, he tossed and turned. He slept, but fitfully, and several hours before dawn he shot up, almost certain someone had called his name. Only silence filled the night. Still uneasy, Caeden pulled on his boots, then grabbed his coat. Outside it was still dark. He could smell woodsmoke from the Carver cabin. Everything remained quiet, but he had the feeling that something wasn't quite right. Caeden reached back into his tent for his rifle. He searched around the outside of the house, and then as he came near the path
to the river, he spied the glow of firelight where no fire should be.
Maybe that Davies fellow is back and is camping on the Carver claim.

Caeden headed down the path, crossing the distance in no time at all. What he found left him uncertain what to do. No one was in sight, but the sluice and small shack where Henry stored his tools was afire. He had no bucket and no blanket. The best he could do was return to the cabin and alert Henry and get help. He raced back up the path and pounded on the cabin door until he heard Emily call out.

“Who's there?”

“It's me, Caeden.”

She opened the door and looked at him in surprise, noting the rifle in his hands. “What's wrong?”

“Your father's sluice and shack are on fire. I need a bucket or blanket to beat it out.”

She nodded and immediately hurried to the kitchen. She tossed him a wooden bucket. “I'll get Pa.”

Caeden didn't wait. Instead he ran back to the work site to see if he could at least save Carver's tools. He put the rifle aside and had carried three buckets of water to douse the burning shack when Henry Carver and Emily finally arrived. Henry had another bucket, and Emily carried a thick wool blanket and a lantern. Together they worked to keep the fire from spreading to any of the dried grass. It was a difficult job, but after about half an hour all that remained were smoldering pieces of charred wood.

“How did this happen?” Emily asked. Her tone was one of utter disbelief. “You didn't leave a fire going here, did you, Pa?”

“No. The ground hadn't froze hard yet, and I didn't even make a fire here yesterday.”

“Then someone . . . someone must have set it.”

Caeden couldn't blame her for her shock. She looked so small, almost childlike, wearing just her nightgown, the huge canvas coat, and boots.

He shook his head and refocused on the destruction. “I don't know. I was sleeping, and then something woke me up. I thought maybe someone was messing around, so I got up to take a look. I didn't find anyone around the cabin or the lean-to, and that's when I noticed the fire down here.”

“Good thing you did,” Henry said, shaking his head. “Could have been a lot worse.”

“But, Pa, your tools and sluice.” Emily held the lantern aloft for a better look. “I doubt any of this can be salvaged.”

“The metal of the tools should survive.” Her father shook his head again. “I'll just have to whittle out some new handles or see about getting some on credit from the store in Utica.”

“I'd be happy to extend you the money,” Caeden said.

“I'm obliged,” Henry Carver replied. “But I already have an account at the store, and there's no sense in owing two people.”

“Who would have done such a thing?” Emily asked, finally lowering the lantern. Then she answered her own question. “Kirk Davies. I'll bet he did this to try and force us to leave.”

Her father shook his head. “I suppose you could be right. Guess I'll have to speak with the marshal when I'm in Utica.”

Emily frowned. “What do we do until then?”

“I guess we go back to bed. Tomorrow this should be cooled down, and we can sort through what's left and usable,” her father said. Caeden could hear a tone of defeat in his voice.

Emily handed the lantern to her father, then reached to the ground for the smoky blanket. “I suppose you're right. We'll have plenty of time come light to figure out what to do next.”

The trio started back up the path. It was only as they reached the top of the rise that Caeden spied the cabin. It was on fire, and
no small blaze either. It was engulfed in flames, as if someone had poured kerosene over it and struck a match.

Emily screamed, and her father took off running, calling out for Nyola. Caeden raced after him, knowing that if he didn't stop the old man, he'd try to go into the cabin to retrieve his wife. Caeden reached him just as Henry rounded the south wall of the house.

Caeden took hold of the older man. “You can't go in there, Mr. Carver. It's too late.”

“My wife is in there!” He pushed at Caeden's hold. “I have to try.”

“You can't.” Already the roof of the cabin was caving in. “We don't know how long it's been burning, but you can see for yourself no one could live through it.”

By this time Emily had joined them. She looked from her father to Caeden, her eyes begging him to save her mother, but Caeden felt certain Mrs. Carver was already dead. Not knowing what else to do, he slowly shook his head, hoping she would understand the impossibility of it.

Emily bit her lip and sank to the ground. Caeden released Henry, praying that the man wouldn't try to do something foolish and leave his daughter an orphan. Carver paced in front of the burning cabin, but he didn't attempt to go inside. The roof caved in, and one of the walls began to lean inward. It wouldn't be long before there was nothing left.

“We saw de fire glow” came a woman's voice from the darkness. “What happened?”

Millie Ringgold and several men emerged from the shadows. Millie crossed to where Emily sat on the ground. She said nothing but put her hand atop Emily's shoulder. The men joined Henry, and Caeden could see they were contemplating what to do next. They had brought shovels, and it was agreed that
they would manage the fire rather than try to extinguish it. If they could contain the burning to the cabin alone, then at least the animals and lean-to might escape damage. No one spoke of the fact that Mrs. Carver was still inside the inferno, but everyone seemed to know.

A loud
whoosh
of wind came as one of the glass windows blew out. In turn the air seemed almost immediately to be sucked back in, as if the blaze were drawing a breath. The walls began to collapse one by one. The old dry logs were like so much kindling, and the fire easily consumed the cabin. Thankfully there was little wind.

By first light the blaze had died down. Smudged with soot and ash, the men stood staring at what was left of the cabin. Caeden knew there weren't adequate words to express his sorrow for Emily and her father, so he said nothing. Nyola Carver had spoken to him about a merciful and loving God, but to Caeden's way of thinking, this was neither merciful nor loving. Where was God when that kind old woman was burning alive?

He took several steps back, wondering what he should do. There was nothing left of the home the Carvers had enjoyed. Caeden thought about riding to Utica to buy a wagonful of goods for them and then thought better of it. Henry Carver needed to stay in charge. The man had already lost everything else. He'd wait and see what Carver wanted to do.

Emily and Millie joined him where he stood, but no one seemed inclined to speak. The shock of it all was too much—the pain too deep. Caeden watched as Henry and his friends were talking among themselves. He moved to join them to see what he might do to help.

“Someone clearly set the fires,” Caeden heard Henry say. The older man turned and looked back at his daughter. “That Davies
fellow is no doubt responsible for this. I didn't tell Emmy, but Davies told me he'd make it so's we had no choice in the matter.”

“Yo can stay at my place. I gots plenty of room,” Millie said as she and Emily joined the men.

“I ain't leaving Nyola.” Henry's tone left little doubt that his mind was made up.

“They can stay with me in my tent,” Caeden offered. “It's small, but I think we can all squeeze in.”

Millie looked from Caeden to Emily, then nodded. “I 'spect that's best. I's gwanna go fetch yo some blankets and when it's full-up light, we can see what yo wanna do.”

And with that it was decided. Caeden doubted any of them would truly sleep, but he managed to talk Henry into resting so as to renew his strength for the task ahead.

Emily found herself wedged against the tent wall and her father's well-muscled frame. Caeden took his position on the other side of her father. She hadn't believed it would be possible to sleep, but hours later she awoke with a start to find herself alone. For just a moment Emily couldn't remember where she was or why. Then the events of the night came to mind like a bad dream, only this time the nightmare was real. She sat for several minutes in the silence of the morning. There were chores that still had to be tended to, but Emily couldn't bring herself to move.

Everything smelled like smoke, and her nightgown and coat were marked with soot and ash. Her hair had come undone from its braid, and out of habit she reached up to comb her fingers through the long brown mass and plait it into order. This routine act allowed the tiniest bit of normalcy to return
to her life, but it did nothing to offer comfort. How could it? Her mother was dead, and everything they'd ever owned was gone. Emily didn't even have a change of clothes.

She finally dragged herself from the tent. The morning was a little warmer than the day before, but even so she was grateful for her coat. She walked around the lean-to and up to where the charred remains of the cabin stood. There was nothing left. Mama was gone and everything was burned to ashes.

Emily hadn't cried the night before, and even now she felt the shock too great to even contemplate sorrow. She knew the pain would pierce her numbness soon enough, but for now all she could do was ask the same question over and over. Why?

“Your father went to Utica.”

She turned and met Caeden's serious expression. “Did he . . . what about . . . my mother?”

“We took care of her just before he left. We . . . uh . . . wrapped her in a blanket. Your father plans to get some lumber to build her a coffin.”

Emily nodded. She walked toward the remains of the cabin. “Do you suppose anything is salvageable?”

“I've been going through some of the debris. I found a few metal things that survived. The bathtub, a couple of pans, and the coffeepot. Of course, the stove is there, as you can see.”

Emily disregarded the possibility of danger and made her way into the ruins. She looked around for herself. They had never had much, but now they had even less. She spied the tin in which she had stored her little blue rocks. She picked through the debris and pulled it from the ashes.

“What's that?” Caeden asked, coming alongside her.

She shook her head. “I'm not sure I even know.” She opened it to reveal the stones. “These were pieces of rock that clogged
the sluice. They were pretty, so Pa thought I might have some purpose for them. I've been collecting them ever since.”

Caeden took the tin from her and examined the pieces. “Do you know what these are?”

Emily shrugged. “Jake says he thinks they're gemstones.”

“He's right. I believe these are sapphires. They might very well be valuable to the right buyer.”