waiting for you behind that curtain. While you’re changing, I’ll dish up some stew for you.” Mrs. MacFarland waved her hand toward the corner of the little cabin where a space had been curtained off.
Nate untangled himself from Charley’s and Olivia’s arms and ducked behind the curtains. On the small bed were a shirt and trousers, faded and worn, but clean. When he slipped the faded gray shirt over his head, he paused. There was no collar. Nothing to cover his neck.
The children had gotten used to the angry red scars left by the burns that had nearly killed him, but these people—Sarah...Miss MacFarland—what would they say?
“Uncle Nate, aren’t you hungry?” Charley was waiting for him.
Nate pulled the collarless shirt up as high as he could and gathered his wet things. He didn’t really have a choice.
* * *
Sarah stroked Lucy’s soft hair, surprised she still slept after all the noise Olivia and Charley had made when Nate came in. She had felt like shouting along with the children, she was so relieved to see him safe.
When he stepped out from behind the makeshift curtain, Sarah couldn’t keep her gaze from flitting to his collar line. When the children had told of how their uncle had been burned in the fire, she hadn’t realized how badly he had been injured. Scars covered the backs of his hands and the left side of his neck like splashes of blood shining bright red in the light. Suddenly aware she was staring, Sarah turned her attention back to the girl in her lap, but not before she saw Nate’s self-conscious tug at the shirt’s neckline, as if he were ashamed of the evidence of his heroism.
“Come sit here, Uncle Nate.” Charley directed his uncle to the chair closest to the fireplace and Olivia gave him a plate of stew and two biscuits she had saved for him. Nate didn’t hesitate, but dug his spoon into the rich, brown gravy and chunks of potato.
Uncle James pulled a footstool closer to the fire while Olivia and Charley went back to their checkers game on the floor, relaxed and happy now that their uncle was here. Aunt Margaret settled in the rocking chair with her ever-present knitting.
“The children tell us you’ve had quite a trip,” James said after their visitor had wiped the bottom of his plate with the biscuit. “You’ve come to get your share of the gold?”
Nate reached out to tousle Charley’s hair. The boy leaned his head against his uncle’s knee.
“Not gold, but land. My plan is to raise horses, and this is the perfect place. When the government opened up western Dakota to homesteading, I knew it was time.”
“You’ve been out here before?”
Nate’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the fire. “I’ve made a few trips out West since the war.” He glanced at the children. “It’s a different world out here than it is back East. A man can live on his own terms.”
“I’m gonna be a first-class cowboy.” Charley grinned up at Nate.
When Nate caressed the boy’s head, Sarah’s eyes filled. No one could question that he loved the children as much as they loved him.
“That’s the boy’s dream.” Nate leaned back in his chair and smiled at his nephew. “Providing remounts for the cavalry is my goal, but I need a stake first. We’ll start out with cattle. With the gold rush, I won’t have to go far to sell the beef.”
“There’s plenty of land around here, if you’re looking for a ranch.” James was warming up to his favorite subject—the settling of the Western desert. “The government has opened this part of Dakota Territory up to homesteading, but with the gold rush going on, not too many are interested in land or cattle.”
Margaret rose to refill Nate’s plate, her face pinched with disapproval. She hated the greed ruling and ruining the lives of the men they had met on their journey to Deadwood. Would she keep her comments to herself this time?
“Have you struck it rich yet?” Nate asked James between bites of stew.
James glanced at Margaret. His work here had been a bone of contention between them ever since Uncle James had decided to move west. “It depends on what you mean by rich. I’m a preacher, seeking to bring the gospel to lost souls.”
“If Deadwood is like other gold towns I’ve heard about, there are plenty of those here.”
Margaret let loose with one of her “humphs” and Lucy stirred on Sarah’s lap. The little girl opened her eyes and gazed at Sarah’s face with a solemn stare before sticking her thumb in her mouth again and settling back to watch Nate eat. There was still no sound from her. Sarah smoothed her dress and buried her nose in her soft curls again.
Nate saw Lucy was awake and winked at her, and then his eyes met Sarah’s. His smile softened before he went back to eating his stew.
James went on. “Deadwood is the worst of the worst. Too many murders, too many thieves, too many claim jumpers, too many...” He paused when Margaret cleared her throat. “Ah, yes,” he said, glancing at the children, “too many professional ladies.”
Oh yes, those “professional ladies.” Sarah had heard Aunt Margaret’s opinion of them all the way from Boston. There were few enough women in a mining camp like Deadwood, but most of them wouldn’t think to darken the door of a church. Sarah shifted Lucy on her lap and glanced at Margaret. What would her aunt do if one of those poor girls showed up on a Sunday morning? Or if she knew of Sarah’s plan to provide an education for them?
“Have you had any success?”
“We have a small group of settlers, families like yours, who meet together. I’ve recently rented a building in town, and now that Margaret and Sarah have arrived, I hope more families will come. You and the children are welcome to join us.”
Nate shoveled another spoonful into his mouth.
“Could we?” Olivia looked into Nate’s face. “Oh, could we? We haven’t been to church ever since...”
Charley gave his sister a jab with his elbow, but Nate, scraping the bottom of his second plate of stew, didn’t seem to notice. Aunt Margaret took the empty dish.
What had happened? One moment Nate was discussing Uncle James’s work, and the next Olivia and Charley were fidgeting in the uncomfortable silence. Lucy slid off Sarah’s lap and crossed to Nate. He took her onto his lap and stroked her hair while he stared at the fire.
“We’ll be busy building the ranch,” he said, looking sideways at James. “I doubt if we’ll have time for church.”
He shifted his left shoulder up, as if he wanted to hide the scars, and glanced at Sarah. It sounded as if going to church was the last thing he wanted to do.
* * *
Nate woke with a jerk, the familiar metallic taste in his mouth. He willed his breathing to slow, forcing his eyes open, trying to get his bearings. The MacFarlands’ cabin. They were safe.
Head aching from the ravaging nightmare, he rolled onto his back, waiting for his trembling muscles to relax. He might go one, or even two, nights without the sight of the fire haunting him. Before Jenny and Andrew died last fall, the nightmares had almost stopped—but now they were back with
