The Clash Between the Minds Read online

  "Where are you from?"

  "I was born in Fairmont in western Virginia. During the war, it became West Virginia. Now I live in Bonneforte, Missouri."

  "If you don't mind me asking, what are you doing way out here and in this weather?"

  "I've been searching for a likely place to settle for me and my family. I haven't found the perfect spot yet, so I'm still looking."

  "Your family? Are you married, then?"

  "No, I'm not." She didn't explain, and Rusty didn't pursue it. "My turn for questions now?"

  Rusty grinned. "Sure." She poured more coffee for them both and sat back down.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Mel and me came out here to Laramie three years ago with our pa for him and Mel to work for the railroad. Ma died when we was kids. Pa took sick and died last year. Mel got the notion to stake a mining claim, but an old geezer named Vollmer took a shine to him and sold him his claim. His wife had died, and he said he'd rather live in town in his old age." She stopped to take a sip of coffee. "When we saw what a nice setup he had built, we registered the claim in our name and moved up here. Mel's been working the mine since, whenever he's not working for the railroad, and I try to make a home for us."

  "No man in the picture for you?"

  "Not interested. Nothing much but railroad workers and a few hardscrabble miners around here for a long while, anyway, though Laramie's growing pretty good now. And there were some crooks. Most of them were run out of Laramie a couple of years back, but some miners have been robbed and even killed."

  That news surprised Sarah. "Sounds dangerous."

  Rusty waved toward the corner closest to the cabin door. "We keep a loaded shotgun handy all the time. Do you know how to shoot one?"

  "Yes, and I have a Spencer repeating rifle and a Colt revolver with me. What makes you trust me? I could be after your gold, for all you know."

  "Mel's a good judge of people. He wouldn't have brought you here if he didn't think you was all right. Besides, I saw your face when I told you about the robbers. You was surprised."

  Sarah chuckled. "Yes, I was. I hadn't given a thought to claims around here being valuable enough to steal from."

  "Most ain't. We're all hunting for gold, but as far as I know, no one's found much to speak of yet."

  "How about yours?"

  Rusty frowned. "You don't never ask that."

  Abashed at breaking some unspoken rule, Sarah said, "Sorry. Please forget I said anything."

  "That's all right. I was just warning you. Some folks might take offense, but not me. We ain't found a whole lot, but it's enough to live on. Mel's extra work for the railroad helps us get by pretty well."

  Sarah pointed to the window. "Storm looks bad."

  "It sure does. We're in a canyon here and the house and barn are built partly into a natural cave in the mountain, so that shelters us from the worst of the wind and cold. But all around here might get hit plenty hard. Hope you don't have to be anywhere soon. We could be snowed in for quite a spell."

  Sarah rubbed her neck. "I don't have to be anywhere right now. But I want to keep searching for a likely place." Who was she kidding? She didn't even know if Faith was waiting for her. The thought of going home and finding out for sure made her nervous.

  "There are some really pretty spots near here. You might not want to live so far up in the mountains, but there are plenty of beautiful valleys all around. And of course miles and miles of plains down below." Rusty's eyes brightened. "One thing you might be interested in. Over a year ago, Wyoming Territory passed a law that any woman will have the same rights as a man, voting and holding office, and everything."

  "That's wonderful. I haven't heard of women being given those rights anyplace else I've traveled."

  "Everyone said this was a first."

  The idea intrigued Sarah. What a huge step in the right direction. Maybe some of the states would take a lesson from Wyoming. Maybe—

  Rusty's voice encroached on her thoughts. "What're you looking for? Do you run cattle or sheep, or maybe you want a farm?"

  "No, I'm a writer and an artist, so I work at home. But I want a place that's near a school."

  "Once the railroad got this far, Laramie started getting settled pretty fast. They already have a school, and so do some of the forts nearby."

  "That's good to know. Where's Mel now?"

  "He's in the mine. Whenever we get snowed in, he works the claim every day except Saturday and Sunday. On Saturday we cut wood, and Sunday we rest. When he can get out of here, he does railroad work, and on his days off, he hunts or fishes or we cut wood or we smoke or salt whatever he's caught. When we need it, I churn butter."

  Rusty sure did like to talk, Sarah mused. "Where do you keep the smoked meat and fish and the milk and butter?"

  "Right here." Rusty jumped up and strode to the center of the room. With a flourish, she lifted the rag rug to reveal a trap door. "All our food's in the cellar. Smoked, canned, salted, dried, and sometimes fresh. We have oats, flax seed, potatoes, onions, turnips, flour, sugar, salt, whatever's handy at the market. Everything stays cold without freezing, and the varmints can't get to it." She replaced the rug and walked to the table.

  "I see you're pretty self-sufficient." Sarah stood and went to the window. Snow as far as she could see, which was only about forty feet in the heavy, wind-driven snowfall. "If I'm going to be here for a while, I can give Mel a hand with the mining and the wood cutting. Or any other work. I want to be useful."

  "Maybe so." Rusty cleared off the table and added the crockery to the pots in the sink. "He takes a sandwich and a jug of milk with him so he can stop work for dinner whenever he feels like taking a break, but he'll be in for supper. You can ask him then."

  Sarah turned to look at her. "I seem to remember Mel bringing my horse along. Where is he?"

  Rusty pushed the dishes and pots aside and put a rubber stopper in the sink. "In the barn with the other animals. We have two horses and a cow. I'll show you when we finish here." She put a bar of soap in the sink and poured in some hot water from the pot atop the stove. Working the small pump next to the sink, she added cold water, sloshing the mixture around with her free hand. She stopped pumping, washed the dishes and pots, and set them on the counter next to the sink.

  "Dish towel?" Sarah asked, and Rusty pointed to a clean cloth hanging from a hook on the side of the counter. Sarah picked it up, dried the dishes, and set them in order on the open shelving. She hung the dry pots on the hooks fastened to a ceiling beam in the corner of the room.

  Rusty went to the rack near the door and picked up her coat. "Your stuff is here, too," she said with a gesture as she placed a wide-brimmed hat on her head. Sarah lifted her coat and put it on then donned her slouch hat. She noticed her gun belt hanging from one of the pegs, but she left it there.

  "My coat's dry," she said, "and warm."

  "Mel hung it in front of the fireplace all night. And your gloves and hat. And boots."

  "I thank him for that."

  Rusty went out the door with Sarah following her. Mel must have cleared snow from the door when he went out, Sarah thought, or they would have had more trouble opening it. Bent over against the wind, they walked around the house through the heavy storm that had already deposited more than a foot of snow. Rusty pointed off to the side to a barely visible building. "That there's the outhouse. But in this weather, we use the slop jars and dump them in there each morning."

  Slop jars? It wasn't much of a leap to realize that's what Rusty called the chamber pots.

  Rusty glanced at Sarah. "Each of us takes care of our own."

  "Sounds reasonable," Sarah said.

  Rusty led her to a weathered-looking barn that had a snow-filled corral that angled off to the side and out past the front. Looking up at the barn roof, Sarah could see that it had been connected to part of the mountain. Clever. She helped Rusty open one of the double doors then close it. The interior wasn't as cold as she had expected. She supp
osed the animal heat kept it a little warmer than the outside, though it was still cold, just not freezing. Getting out of the wind helped, too. Three horses were stabled in stalls on one side, and a black cow lay on the ground in a fourth stall.

  Two horses nickered when they entered. One was a plain brown mare. Sarah patted the animal's nose as she went by and strode quickly to Redfire, who was stabled in the third stall. "What are your horses named?" she said over her shoulder.

  "The first one's my horse, Painter," Rusty answered, "because that's what she is, a paint. The second one's Brownie, because she's brown all over."

  "I see you have a cow." Blackie? Sarah made a quick guess.

  "That's Blackie." Sarah couldn't help but chuckle, and Rusty grinned. "Yep, because she's black all over. We have fresh milk every day, and we have fresh butter, too. Do you know how to milk a cow? Or churn butter?"

  "No, but I can learn."

  "I'll do the milking this morning. You go ahead and take care of your horse."

  Sarah threw her arms around Redfire's neck and hugged him. "Hi, boy." She saw that Redfire had already been fed and watered, but he looked bedraggled after having been out in the storm for so long.

  She looked around for a brush and currycomb and saw them hanging on the wall next to the long table that held the saddles and assorted jars, cans, and rags. Tack hung above the table. Against the back wall, on either side of open double doors, hay bales were stacked four deep to the ceiling with pitchforks hung on the wall nearby. A shorter stack in front showed where the latest bales had been pulled down to feed the horses. The Gunthers' wagon filled the rest of the barn floor.

  Rusty picked up a pail and stool, sat down next to the cow, and milked it.

  Sarah grabbed the grooming instruments and combed and brushed Redfire's hair until it had a sheen. Afterward, she combed and brushed his forelock and tail. "There you go, boy. Bet that feels better."

  "Sure looks better," Rusty said.

  Sarah jumped. She'd been so engrossed, she'd forgotten Rusty was there.

  "Thanks," Sarah said.

  "He's a really pretty horse." Rusty came to stand beside Sarah. "He a thoroughbred?" She scratched Redfire's head between his ears.

  "Yes. I meant him to be just for riding, but he went through the war with me."

  Rusty looked up at Sarah. "You fought in the war?" She sounded surprised. "I heard some women did, but I never knew one for real."

  "I was a scout. I didn't have to fight, although I was in a couple of battles."

  Rusty reached up and gently touched Sarah's scars a moment before Sarah pulled away. "You got those in the war?"

  "Yes."

  "And your leg got hurt, too? I saw you limp for a second or two after you slipped on the snow."

  "Yes. I got shot in the leg, and it didn't heal right."

  Rusty shivered. "I seen a lot of men come back with a leg or arm missing."

  "I was lucky. A woman who knew doctoring saved mine for me." Visions of Faith kept rising in Sarah's mind even when she tried to block them. Thoughts of her made Sarah ache with loneliness—and anxiety.

  "You look sad," Rusty said. "Was she someone special to you?"

  Sarah grabbed a can of saddle soap and a rag and began rubbing the soap into Redfire's saddle that lay on the table. "She was. She is." Conflicting emotions ran through Sarah; she felt happy and sad, trusting and doubtful, hopeful and despairing.

  She looked up at Rusty, who was staring at her again. Rusty blinked twice and gestured toward the saddle soap. "Put that aside a minute, and we can turn the horses and cow out into the back corral."

  Sarah raised her brows in surprise. A back corral? Where? Mimicking Rusty's actions with Painter and Brownie, she tied a lead to Redfire. When Rusty took the horses through the double doors in the back of the barn, Sarah did the same. She stepped past the opening and stopped in amazement.

  A huge natural cave spread in front of her. A wide fissure to the right of the dome allowed light through. The large damp patch below it attested to the snow that filtered down and melted. A fenced area strewn with straw filled about two-thirds of the area to the left. Heaped in a near corner of the corral, a short mound of manure added its pungent odor to the animal smell that permeated the area. Just outside the corral stood a hand-operated water pump, complete with a trough and buckets. The trough went under the fence into the corral. A pail was turned upside down over the top of the pump. A black hole loomed straight ahead, and to the right of the hole sat an assortment of boxes, some obviously empty, others closed.

  "This is incredible," she said. "Did all this come with the deed?"

  Rusty opened the corral gate, and they turned the horses loose. "Yep, it did. We sure was surprised to see all this." Rusty closed the gate and fastened it.

  "Now I see why you couldn't pass it up. You have your own nook here. Doesn't even feel terribly cold in here."

  Sarah's gaze went to the black hole. "Is that the mine?"

  "Yep. It goes a ways back into the mountain. Mel must not have heard us or he would've been out here."

  Sarah took a step toward the hole.

  Rusty took her arm and halted her. "No, you don't. If you show up in there, he'll put you to work, and you're not up to that yet. The mine ain't going anywhere. It can wait another day."

  That made sense to Sarah. The worst pain had passed, but her head still throbbed. "All right." She picked up the saddle soap and rag and returned to cleaning the saddle.

  After Rusty led the cow into the corral, she motioned toward the house and said, "Come on in when you're finished. I'll make us some tea." She picked up the pail of milk and left.

  Darkness came quickly on the snowy day. Sarah helped Rusty fill five hurricane lamps with oil, and Rusty lit two of them with a sulfur match. She put one on the table by the sofa and chairs and one on the table they ate from. Sarah added more logs to the fire, and that provided additional light.

  Rusty brought a cast-iron pot from the cellar. "Bean soup," she said when Sarah lifted an eyebrow in inquiry. "It's already made. Just have to heat it up. Fire's all ready." Sarah took the heavy pot from her and set it on the box stove. Rusty used a lid-lifter to remove the cast iron lid of a front burner, and Sarah moved the pot there.

  "This is a nice stove."

  "Thanks. Mr. Vollmer told Mel someone tossed it out of their wagon on the way over here from the East. Too much weight, I guess. He put it in his wagon and kept it. Same thing with the sofa and chairs. I really like the stove. It saves having to bend over the fireplace all the time. Every place we ever lived before only had a fireplace."

  A half-hour later, Rusty stirred the soup and said, "Almost done. Needs more wood on the fire, though." She set down the spoon and replaced the pot's lid.

  "Let me fix the fire," Sarah said.

  Sarah moved the bean soup to the back of the stove. From the coal scuttle, she picked four split-log pieces and loaded them into the open burner one by one. A small poker hung from the decorative top of the stove. Sarah used it to mix the wood with the hot coals left from the earlier fire. When finished, she pulled the soup pot forward once more onto the front burner.

  Meantime, Rusty took a loaf of bread and a few extra pieces from the breadbox. She lifted a long knife from a silverware tray on the counter, sliced the bread and put it in a basket that she set on the table. Sugar, salt and pepper shakers, and a crock full of butter were already there. Sarah set three bowls around, and Rusty added the knives and spoons.

  Rusty grinned at her. "We work well together."

  Sarah returned the grin. "I'm used to fixing meals. I did the weekdays, and Faith—" She stopped abruptly and didn't finish. There was that same odd stare from Rusty. Sarah ignored it. "When does Mel usually come for supper?" Just as she finished the sentence, she heard a scraping at the door. It burst open, and a snow-covered Mel entered, stomping his feet.

  "Snowing like hell out there," he said. "Though I doubt it snows in hell." He stood still while Rust
y brushed him off with the broom that had been leaning in one corner. "I tried to run, but the footing was bad. Must've started with sleet." He took off his mittens, coat, and hat and hung them on the rack. Then he made a beeline for the sink, washed his hands and face under the pump, and dried them.

  "Mel," Rusty said, "this is Sarah-Bren Coulter. She goes by Sarah."

  Sarah was standing at the table, and Mel walked over to her. He had the same coloring as Rusty, but was square and muscular. Sarah topped him by at least three inches.

  "Hi, Sarah. Glad to meet you." Sarah stuck out her hand, and he shook it. "Damn, you're tall," he said with a gleam in his eye, "and beautiful."

  "Thank you, and thanks for looking out for me." Sarah grimaced. "I don't usually drink so much."

  "I don't blame you, after going through that rainstorm. You were soaked."

  "And freezing," Sarah said. "I needed to get warm. Just overdid it some. A lot," she amended. "Thanks to you, I still have my money, too."

  "Glad to help."

  "Hey, you two, the soup's hot," Rusty said. "Let's sit down and eat." She dished out the bean soup, and they sat down. Mel said grace and they ate.

  Afterwards, as they drank coffee, Sarah said, "Rusty tells me you're working a claim. I'd like to help with that, if you'll let me. I've swung a pick or two."

  Mel gave Rusty a glare. "Now why'd you go and tell her that?"

  Rusty glared back. "Because she's bound to be here awhile with the blizzard we're getting, and with you going to the mine each day, she could figure it out herself." Rusty smiled sweetly. "Besides, you brought her here. You wouldn't have done that if you didn't think she was all right."

  Mel gave a short laugh. "You trust my judgment too much. I never guessed she was a woman." He turned toward Sarah. "Come out with me tomorrow, and after we take care of the horses, I'll put you to work."

  "Good," Sarah said. "I want to do my share, not live off of you for nothing."

  "Glad to hear it." Mel snared a hard piece of bread from the plate, broke it up, and dropped each piece into his coffee. He ate it with a spoon and drank the coffee that was left. He saw Sarah watching him. "Good way to soften stale bread and tastes good, too. Never tried that before?"