As if she thought so, too, Mica rested her head against Callie’s shoulder. Frisco and Sutter climbed off the bench and pressed against Callie’s side.
The preacher didn’t look dismayed to find them all ranged against him. He merely inclined his head.
“Your sister has done a good job,” he said, gaze moving from face to face. “But even Callie has to get tired once in a while.”
How did he know? She’d been so careful not to let her brothers see it. Neither of them knew the nights she broke down and cried, trying to think of a way to change their circumstances. She was up before they were, in bed long after they climbed to the loft. There weren’t enough hours in the day for tending to the claim let alone all the washing and cooking and cleaning.
Adam and Pa had both promised better things.
“Just you wait, Callie,” Pa would say, eyes bright and cheeks flushed like he was feverish. “One day you’ll dress in fine silks and live in a big house with servants to do all the work.”
He’d had a fever all right. Gold fever. This preacher seemed no different.
“We get by,” she told him, warmed by her brothers on either side. “What are you offering that’s any better?”
He took a step closer and spread his hands, as if intent on making his case. He had nice hands, strong-looking and not too soft, like he could wield a pick or shovel if he needed to. He was slender for a man, but those broad shoulders and long legs seemed made to crouch beside a stream for hours panning.
And when had she started judging men by their ability to hunt for gold!
“I have a solid house,” he said, “with a good roof and a big hearth.”
That would be nice. Frisco and Sutter kept having to reposition the tick they slept on to stay out of the drips from the roof when it rained.
“Our house is solid,” Frisco blustered.
The preacher had to know that was a lie, but he inclined his head again. “I also have a kitchen stove, plenty of food set aside for winter, a separate bedroom and a sleeping loft overhead.”
Her brothers brightened, but Callie had spotted the fly in the ointment. “Who do you figure’s sleeping in the bed?” she asked.
His brows shot up. Preachers—they never liked to talk about practical things, like sleeping arrangements or taking turns in the privy.
“You and the baby would have the bedroom,” he assured her. “I’ll bunk in the loft with the boys.”
Sutter and Frisco looked around her at each other, and she was fairly sure they didn’t like the idea of having the preacher so close at night. She’d heard them open the shutters in the loft after they were supposed to be asleep, the thud of their feet against the logs as they climbed down. And she’d stayed awake until she’d heard them climb back up again.
Still, she couldn’t believe the preacher would be so generous. “You’d take us into your own home,” she challenged. “People you barely know?”
He smiled. “I knew Adam. He saved my life once, gave me food when I was starving. I was his friend. That makes us friends, too.”
Friends, he said. She had had few over the years, young men her age mostly, and they’d quickly lost each other as families traveled to different strikes. She couldn’t believe this man was her friend. She couldn’t make herself believe any of it—Adam’s death, this stranger’s kindness. Either Levi Wallin was one of those do-gooders who donated to the poor only to brag about it, or he was after something.
“We don’t need your pity, preacher,” she said.
He smiled. Such a nice smile, lifting his lips, brightening his eyes. She could imagine people doing anything he wanted when he smiled at them that way.
“I’m not offering to help you from pity,” he promised her. “Adam asked me to look out for you. Some people might say he gave me guardianship of you all.”
Her brothers stiffened. So did Callie.
“Don’t much care what others say,” she told him. “I don’t need a guardian. I’ve been taking care of my family since I was twelve. And I’ll reach my majority in six months.”
He didn’t argue the fact. If he really did remember Vital Creek, he’d know about the parties Pa threw on any of his children’s birthdays, with music and treats. Anyone who recalled those would know she would turn one-and-twenty in the spring.
“Still, Adam asked me to take care of you,” he pointed out. “Perhaps you’d like to read his letter now.” He turned for the front door before she could respond. “I’ll be right back.” He strode out of the house.
Frisco and Sutter ran after him to peer out the cracks in the shutter.
“He has a horse,” Frisco reported.
“A nice one,” Sutter agreed.
They would know. They’d seen their share of sway-back nags over the years.
“He talks nice, too,” Frisco acknowledged. He turned from the shutter. “Do you think he’s telling the truth, Callie?”
She shrugged. “Even if he was, would you want to live with a preacher?”
Sutter stepped closer to Frisco, nudged his shoulder. Most folks thought her brothers were identical, but she could tell the difference. Frisco was a little bigger, a little heavier, and Sutter’s eyes had more gray in them. Frisco was the leader, Sutter the follower. And both looked to Callie to make the hard decisions.
Like now, when this stranger wanted them to leave the only home they’d ever known.
The preacher returned, crossed to her side and handed her a piece of paper, even as her brothers came to join them. He’d left the door open as if to give her more light to read by, but the little black lines and dots still swam before her eyes.
Were these really Adam’s last words?
She handed the letter to Frisco. “Here. Read it aloud.”
Her brother swallowed, then looked down at the paper.
“Callie, Frisco, Sutter and Mica,” he started, each word slow as he sounded them out. He glanced up at Callie with a grin. “See there, Callie? That’s my name next to yours.”
The preacher smiled as if he appreciated her brother’s excitement. Between their moves and the remote location of the claim, Frisco and Sutter had never been in school, but Callie took pride that they had learned their letters from Anna.
“I see it,” she told Frisco. “Read the rest.”
He bent over the paper. “I promised you all to come back before winter, but I think I’m done for.”
Sutter sucked in a breath, and Frisco looked up again, face paling.
“Go on,” Callie said, throat tight.
