The Clash Between the Minds Read online

  They entered the barn, and his mischievous grin showed again. "I'll give you a choice. You want to muck the stalls or shovel a path to the outhouse?"

  Sarah weighed the outside cold against the smelly mucking. "Not a hard decision. I'll shovel snow."

  "Smart as well as beautiful. Good combination."

  Sarah rolled her eyes. "Save your sweet talk, Mel."

  He stopped where he stood. "You're a good-looking woman. You must be used to men flirting with you."

  Sarah walked past him. "Let's get the animals fed and watered."

  Mel followed and tapped her on the shoulder. Sarah stopped and turned toward him. "What?"

  "Did I bother you?" he said. "I didn't mean to."

  "I'm...committed to someone," Sarah said. She hoped with all her heart that Faith still felt committed to her.

  Mel made an amusing face. "Damn, just when I had dreams of a warm bed."

  Sarah laughed. "You can always sleep with Brownie."

  They turned and walked through the doorway into the cave. Sarah lifted the pail off of the pump. She noted it had a piece of blanket stuffed in it as insulation. She set the pail down and pumped fresh water into the trough.

  Mel grabbed a pitchfork and dumped a bale of hay into the corral. He unhooked the gate, walked inside, and forked the bale into clumps of hay. The horses and cow gathered to chomp on it.

  "How about milking the cow?" Sarah said.

  "Rusty does that. Soon as you finish shoveling a path to the outhouse, come back and I'll put you to work in the mine. Tomorrow we clean the corral." Mel traded the fork for a flat shovel. He and Sarah walked back into the barn, and he started to muck the stalls. "Snow sure is lighter than this stuff," he grumbled good-naturedly.

  Sarah looked back over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose as she headed outside. "Smells a lot better, too."

  Just as she finished shoveling the path to the outhouse and set the shovel against the small building, Rusty appeared carrying a chamber pot.

  "I'll get that," Sarah said and took the pot from her.

  "Thanks. Dump it in the right side hole," Rusty said. "And grab the brush that's hanging in there."

  Sarah dumped the pot and came back outside with it and the brush. She set the pot down, and Rusty scooped snow into it. "How about you clean that one out, and I'll get the rest of them?"

  "I thought we each did our own?"

  "I just said that so you wouldn't think I would wait on you. No maids around here."

  "Fine with me." Sarah set to work with the brush, and soon Rusty brought the second one. They took care of all three pots. Rusty carried the last one back to the house while Sarah grabbed the shovel, returned to the barn, and leaned the shovel against its side.

  When she entered the cave, she saw Mel had finished mucking the stalls and was removing his coat.

  He looked up. "You might want to shuck your coat, too. It's not all that cold in the mine, and the digging keeps you warm." He picked up a lantern and lit it. Then he wrapped a bit of material over the lower half of his face.

  Sarah took off her hat and coat and followed him into the mine as she wrapped the cotton scarf Rusty had given her over her mouth and nose. The mine looked to be about seven feet wide. The shaft was shored up on both sides and across the ceiling with four-by-eight-inch slabs of wood about ten feet apart. She had to duck, not only under the low-slung beams, but also under the rock ceiling. Vollmer must have been short.

  She figured they had traversed more than a hundred feet when Mel stopped and hung the lantern on one of the side beams. Directly past him was the area he was currently digging. Two wooden wheelbarrows sat to one side, next to a pick and a shovel.

  "Here we are," he said. He handed Sarah the shovel and got the pick for himself. He pointed to a dully gleaming stripe in the rock face. "This is the gold ore. The rest is plain rock. We put the ore in one barrow and the rock in the other. I'll pick for a while, you shovel, then we'll change. All right?"

  Sarah nodded and stepped back so Mel could swing the pick. She leaned partly on the shovel and partly on the wall while she watched him. He picked awhile at the stripe then stopped. Sarah stepped forward and shoveled the ore into the first wheelbarrow. Then Mel picked the rock away to clear more of the stripe and stopped while Sarah shoveled that rubble into the second barrow. When the rubble barrow was full, they pushed both out of the shaft into the cave and dumped the barrows into separate boxes.

  "I keep the good stuff in here," Mel said. "The rock gets dumped outside, but I do that after I'm finished for the day."

  He waved a hand toward the cow. "Rusty's been here and gone. She always does the morning milking. Sometimes I do the evening milking for her, just to give her a break."

  They took the wheelbarrows back into the shaft, and this time Sarah worked the pick. Because of her height, she had a difficult time. Bent over, she couldn't get much leverage and couldn't swing the pick full-force. After fifteen minutes, Mel said, "This ain't going to work. You'll kill your back. Let me handle the pick, and you do the shovel."

  Sarah was glad to switch, and they worked that way until the rubble barrow was again full. After they pushed them back to the cave and emptied them, Mel loosened his scarf, retrieved a sack, and sat on the coat he had removed earlier. "Time for dinner."

  Sarah loosened her scarf, too, and sat next to him on her coat. Mel opened the sack and handed her a sandwich that Sarah examined. Thinly sliced smoked beef, onion, and cheese, slathered with ketchup on seasoned bread. She took a bite and closed her eyes in appreciation. Ummm.

  "Good, huh? Sometimes I get meat and sauerkraut." Mel set a stoppered jug next to her. "Milk. Help yourself," he said. "Rusty's good with food, I'll give her that. How about you? Are you a good cook?"

  "Passable. Nothing to brag about. This tastes wonderful."

  "Yep. I can't cook either. I guess I'm best at plodding along just doing what needs to be done. What are you best at?"

  "Plodders are good, and necessary." She ate more of her sandwich and thought for a moment. "I'm good at writing and drawing, but those talents aren't all that useful here. I'm good at hunting, and I can do heavier work than most women." Sarah finished the sandwich and took a swig from the jug of milk.

  "So I noticed. Rusty tried working in the mine, but she didn't have the strength. I could pretty near do as much alone as we did together. Besides that, she sneezes her head off from the dust, even with a scarf. You've helped a lot."

  "Thanks. That dust's pretty nasty. How do you handle it every day?"

  "Guess I'm used to it. Once in a while I get a really bad chest cold, and I'm not good for much of anything. Days like that, no mining gets done. I stay in the house, and Rusty clucks over me like a mother hen." Mel hesitated. "I have to say, you're really quiet next to her. She loves to talk."

  "I've never been much of a talker," Sarah said.

  Mel chuckled. "Thank goodness. I'm used to my sister, and I don't mind her talking, but I'm not sure I could take two women talkers in the same house."

  They finished their meal, and Mel stood up. "Back to work."

  Sarah joined him as they donned their scarves and went back into the mine.

  When Mel called it a day, they pushed the final barrows into the cave and loosened their scarves. Sarah dumped the ore into a box.

  "Time to dump the rock," Mel said. He motioned for Sarah to help him dump a box of rubble into the barrow she had. He donned his hat, coat, and gloves and Sarah did likewise. Mel pushed a barrow of rock out of the cave, through the barn, and on outside. Following him with her barrow, Sarah wondered where he would empty it.

  "More shoveling to do first." Mel left the barrow and grabbed the shovel that Sarah had leaned against the outside of the barn. He pointed off to the right. "Have to go over there." He started shoveling. Sarah walked behind him with a barrow of rubble, until he stopped and handed her the shovel. "Your turn."

  She shoveled until Mel hollered, "Whoa! That's far enough. Give me the
shovel."

  Sarah gave it to him. She straightened up and looked ahead at a depression that she hadn't noticed earlier. "A ravine?"

  "Yep. This one ain't a straight down drop-off like some, but it's deep enough to hold the dumpings." He dug a bit farther then stopped and set the shovel in the snow to the side of him. He went back for Sarah's barrow, pushed it forward, and tipped it, allowing the rock to roll into the ravine.

  "It only went partway down," Sarah said.

  "That's good enough for now. It'll go the rest of the way come spring when the snow melts."

  They went back after the other boxes of rocks and dumped them, too.

  "We did a good day's work," Mel said. He thumped Sarah on the back. "We got an extra box of ore, thanks to you."

  One more thump, and she would have fallen over, Sarah thought. She hadn't done so much physical work in one day for a long time, and she'd be glad to get inside and rest.

  "Oh, God, that feels good," Sarah said. The three had eaten supper and were now sitting in front of the fire. Sarah was on the sofa, and Rusty stood behind her, massaging her neck and shoulders.

  "I do this for all the miners," Rusty said with a giggle. "Don't I, Mel?"

  "Yep," Mel replied from the chair he sat in. "One of the best rewards for working hard. Rusty has magic hands." He waggled a finger. "Don't go skipping me, sis."

  "You know I won't, but guests first."

  "Maybe you better massage Mel's neck before I wear you out," Sarah said. "I could sit here forever enjoying this." The enjoyment was bittersweet. Sarah was pretending that Faith's hands were rubbing her neck so lovingly as she often had in the past.

  Rusty's fingers gradually slowed, and Sarah asked, "Who rubs your neck for you?"

  "I've tried," Mel said, "but I'm too clumsy."

  "You mean well," Rusty said. "You just don't have the touch."

  Sarah looked from one to the other as Rusty switched to massaging the tops of Mel's shoulders. "All right. Tomorrow, if I can move, I'll rub your neck for you."

  Rusty's face lit up. "Wonderful! I'll hold you to that." She hesitated. "What do you mean, if you can move?"

  "Remember my saying I'm a writer and an artist? I haven't worked this hard since...I can't remember when."

  "Damn," Mel said. "I didn't give that a thought. You take tomorrow off."

  Sarah opened her mouth to protest, but he raised a hand to forestall her. "No arguments. You got your own work that needs to be done, right?"

  Sarah nodded. "I have book contracts to fulfill, but nothing pressing."

  "Suppose you work two days a week with me in the mine and you can help cut wood on Saturdays. The other days you can do your own work. Except Sunday. On Sunday, we rest."

  "All right. That sounds more than generous." Sarah was greatly relieved. Maybe she could work more than two days a week after she got used to it, but right now, her muscles felt like ropes of sausage that had been tromped on. She could hardly wait until Mel announced the end of the day, which she assumed he always did. Sure enough, he finally stood and said, "Time for rest."

  "Good night." Sarah lurched to her feet and rooted in her bedroll for her nightshirt. Rusty touched her arm.

  "Good night, Sarah. I'm looking forward to that massage. Maybe after dinner tomorrow?" She reached up, untied the rawhide that held Sarah's hair, and handed her the strip. "You have lovely hair."

  "Thanks. After dinner is fine. Good night, Rusty." Sarah would have promised anything. All she wanted was sleep. She opened the leather packet and stroked the red curl, but she hoped she was too tired to dream of Faith.

  Sarah spent the morning at the kitchen table, writing on her current story. It was one-third done and her publisher didn't expect it until autumn, so she had plenty of time to finish it. She needed to embellish it with a few drawings, too, but both times she'd decided to draw, she wound up drawing Faith or Benjamin. After pulling off her spectacles, she put them in their case and rubbed her knuckles into her eyes.

  After dinner, she prepared to give Rusty the massage she had promised. Rusty preferred to sit in a kitchen chair. Sarah began a light rub on her shoulders.

  "Wait," Rusty said. "Let me loosen my dress so you can work right on my skin." She unbuttoned the top few buttons of her dress and pushed it back to bare her shoulders.

  "Do you have any scented oil?" Sarah asked. "It's really good for a massage." She smiled to herself, remembering that Leah had taught her the delights of a sensual massage with oil.

  "No." Rusty sounded disappointed.

  "That's all right. We don't need it." Sarah worked her fingers in from Rusty's shoulders to her neck and back again. Once more, she followed the same trail, only with increasing pressure.

  Rusty's head lolled from side to side. "Oh, you must be an angel. That feels like heaven."

  "No one's ever accused me of being an angel." Sarah's thoughts weren't exactly angelic either. She hadn't touched a woman for a long time. This wasn't Faith, but the contact was still warming her body.

  Rusty giggled. "Well, I think you are." Sarah slowed, thinking she should end the massage. "Please," Rusty said, "just once more."

  Even the words warmed her. How many times had she or Faith said that to each other? She pulled her thoughts up short. "Not this time. I don't want to spoil you," she said in a light tone she somehow managed to force from herself.

  Rusty turned in the chair and grabbed the hand that still lay on her shoulder. She stroked Sarah's hand. "You have beautiful hands, so strong looking, yet so gentle." She kissed Sarah's hand then pulled it to her bare chest. "That was wonderful. Can you do it again soon?" She looked up at Sarah.

  Sarah nodded. She could feel the blush rising on her cheeks. Rusty let go of her hand and stood. "Sarah..." Sarah couldn't stop herself from staring as Rusty buttoned her dress. "Mel said you told him you're committed." She hesitated, and Sarah met her gaze. "Are you committed to a woman?"

  Sarah blinked. She really didn't want to say so, but she couldn't lie. "Yes."

  "A woman named Faith?"

  "Yes."

  "I thought so." Rusty smiled. "I love women, too."

  Sarah needed to get her mind together. Why hadn't she recognized that Rusty was flirting with her? Maybe because her mind was so full of Faith that no other woman stood a chance with her? She walked over to the sink, pumped a glass half-full of water and drank it. When she turned around, Rusty hadn't moved.

  Rusty lifted her hands and let them drop. "I just wanted to let you know. I'm not cozying up to you, unless you want me to."

  "Please, no." Sarah recognized the plea in her own voice.

  Rusty clapped her hands together twice. "All right, that's that. We'll just be friends."

  "I'll be happy to be that." Relief flooded Sarah. Maybe Rusty could keep her emotions in check, even if Sarah's slipped once in a while.

  "But," Rusty said with that same mischievous grin her brother sported, "I still want those massages."

  The corner of Sarah's lips turned up. "That's a promise."

  Several days later, the animals had been taken care of, and Mel was out working the mine as usual. Earlier, Rusty had shown Sarah how to milk a cow. Now they were in the cellar, where they had brought the milk, and Rusty was about to show her how to churn butter. "I let the cream rise to the top of the milk, then scoop it out and put it in a crock." She pointed to one of the crocks. "I let it sit in the cellar for two weeks and age. That one's ready." She dipped a bowl of cream from the crock, and the two women returned to the kitchen. Rusty poured the cream into a wooden cylinder that had a pole sticking out of the lid.

  "This is the butter churn," Rusty said. "The bottom of the pole is star-shaped and pushing the pole up and down mixes up the cream and makes butter. What ain't turned into butter, we call clabber. Some people call it buttermilk."

  "I like buttermilk," Sarah said.

  She worked the pole until Rusty said it was enough. Rusty lifted the lid of the churn and scooped the butter out into
a fresh bowl. She poured cold water onto it, mashed the butter and water together, and poured off the excess. She repeated this step until the water ran clear. Afterward, she added salt to the butter and mixed it thoroughly with a large spoon. She picked up a glob on the end of her finger and held it out to Sarah. "Taste it."

  Sarah reached for it, but Rusty pulled her finger back. "Goodness gracious, just open your mouth."

  She stuck the glob in Sarah's mouth, and Sarah was practically forced to lick it off Rusty's finger.

  "How's it taste?" Rusty asked innocently.

  Sarah licked her lips. "Tastes really good."

  "The butter or my finger?" Rusty said. She grinned when Sarah rolled her eyes. "All right, I'm sorry. I just love to tease."

  "Last thing I need is someone teasing me. I haven't seen Faith for a long time. That's teasing enough."

  "And you really miss her?"

  "Yes, very much. And our son, Benjamin."

  With Sarah helping, Rusty poured the clabber out of the churn into a clean pitcher and covered it with a cloth. She dipped some hot water from the pot hanging in the fireplace and put it in the churn. She added a sliver of soap to the water. "You have a son?"

  "Faith is his birth mother. But I think of him as my son, too." Sarah grabbed a long brush hanging near the sink, stepped to the churn, and started cleaning it.

  "How old is Benjamin? Does he look like Faith? Is he why you wanted to be near a school?"

  Sarah laughed. "Slow down, woman. Let me answer one at a time." Why was she even answering Rusty's questions? Personal questions usually annoyed Sarah. But, to be fair, it was lonely here and Rusty had to be lonely, too. Besides, she and Mel had accepted Sarah into their home with few questions in the beginning. Sarah guessed it was only fair to answer some now.

  She picked up the churn and dumped the soapy water in the sink. Rusty took it from her, rinsed it with clean water, and turned it upside down in the sink to drain.

  "Benjamin's fourteen," Sarah said, "and a young man to be proud of. He looks like Faith and is tall like her, but he has his father's coloring, dark hair and brown eyes. Faith has red, curly hair and green eyes. Before you ask, his father was killed in the war before Faith and I ever met." A picture of Faith flitted across Sarah's mind and made her pause. "I want to be near a school because Faith's an elementary schoolteacher. Benjamin will soon be in high school."