“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.
“Real cold up here. You remember. But don’t worry. Levi Wallin will take care of you. He knows about living like we did. He understands.”
Callie looked up to find Levi watching her. No one who hadn’t lived in the camps could appreciate the life they’d led. Even the townsfolk in Seattle called her and her brothers wild, uncouth, like they were animals instead of people. Levi Wallin might have visited the gold fields, befriended Adam, but he was still a preacher.
“Tell Mica about me when she asks,” Frisco continued, voice wavering more from emotion than reading skills now, Callie thought. “Tell her I loved her and her ma. Tell her I only wanted to dress her in fine silks and give her a big house with servants.”
Callie dashed a tear from her cheek. She’d tell Mica about Adam, but never that he’d wasted his life, like his father before him, chasing after a fool dream.
“Think of me kindly,” Frisco finished with a sniff. “Your loving brother Adam.”
Sutter’s face was puckered. “Why’d he have to go and die?”
“Everyone dies,” Frisco said, crumpling the note in his fist. “Ma, Pa, Adam, Anna. Callie will die one day. So will you.”
“I won’t!” Sutter shouted, giving him a shove.
“Boys!” Callie blinked back tears. “That’s enough. Frisco’s right—everyone dies someday. It might be sooner or it might be later. None of us knows.”
As Frisco rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, she gathered him closer. Sutter crowded on her other side. Adam was really dead. He and Pa had fought with the fellow who’d tried to buy her. Now it looked as if her brother had simply given her away. Didn’t he think she could raise the boys and Mica alone? Hadn’t he trusted her? What was she supposed to do now?
“I remember how it felt to lose my pa,” the preacher said, in a quiet, thoughtful voice that was respectful of what they were feeling. “I was eight when he was killed in a logging accident.”
So maybe he knew a little about loss. Frisco didn’t respond, but Sutter raised his head. “What did you do?”
“I relied on my family and friends,” he said.
Now Frisco looked up at Callie. “You’re family, Callie. What do you think we should do?”
At least her little brothers trusted her. Even Mica was regarding her with hope shining in her blue eyes.
Still, what choice did she have? She’d been counting on Adam returning before the freeze set in. She needed another pair of hands to get everything ready for winter. Her brothers were too young yet for some of the tasks, and they weren’t very good about taking care of Mica so she could work elsewhere on the claim. They kept finding more interesting things to do, leaving the baby unattended. But she couldn’t hunt or chop wood carrying a baby.
Besides, with Adam gone, how could they keep the claim? She couldn’t file for her own for another six months.
She met the preacher’s gaze. Once more that deep blue pulled her in, whispered of something more, something better. If only she could make herself believe.
“I think,” she told her brothers, “that we should get to know Adam’s friend a little better.”
* * *
Levi smiled. Though he liked to think he’d outgrown the grin Ma had always called mischievous, he knew a smile could go a long way toward calming concerns, soothing troubled hearts. The Murphys had no reason to trust him other than a recommendation from their dead brother. A brother who might still be alive if he hadn’t yielded to the siren’s call of gold.
“You live around here, preacher?” Callie asked him.
They were all watching him. Even the baby blinked her eyes before fixing them on his face as if fascinated.
“I’m the pastor of the church at Wallin Landing, up north on Lake Union,” he told them. He still couldn’t quite believe it. He’d tutored under a missionary on the gold fields, traveled to San Francisco to be trained and ordained. He’d intended to return north to the men who needed hope in the gold rush camps, to help Thaddeus Bilgin, his mentor. Then he’d discovered that his family had built a church and was ready to request a pastor. They couldn’t know how they’d honored him by offering him the role. His first duty had been to perform the