Love Finds You in Silver City, Idaho
BY JANELLE MOWERY
SummeRSIde
PRESS™
Summerside Press™
Minneapolis 55438
www.summersidepress.com
Love Finds You in Silver City, Idaho
© 2010 by Janelle Mowery
ISBN 978-1-60936-005-4
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.
Scripture references are from The Holy Bible, King James Version (KJV).
The town depicted in this book is a real place, but all characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people or events are purely coincidental.
Cover Design by Koechel Peterson & Associates | www.kpadesign.com
Interior Design by Müllerhaus Publishing Group | www.mullerhaus.net
Photo of Silver City by Jimmy Emerson, www.flickr.com/photos/auvet. Used by permission.
Summerside Press™ is an inspirational publisher offering fresh, irresistible books to uplift the heart and engage the mind.
Printed in USA.
Dedication
To my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ,
who looks at our hearts with a love that knows no bounds.
To my wonderful family,
whose love, encouragement, and prayers
helped make my dream of writing novels come true.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Susan Page Davis and Bill Tompkins for providing pictures and information about Silver City.
Thanks to Lisa Ludwig, Nancy Toback, and Marcia Gruver, whose assistance made this story shine.
And last, but certainly not least, a special thanks to my cheer-leaders, MerriDee Shumski and Rachel Moon. Your prayers and support are greatly appreciated.
For the LORD seeth not as a man seeth;
for man looketh on the outward appearance,
but the LORD looketh on the heart.
~1 SAMUEL 16:7
WHEN GOLD WAS DISCOVERED ALONG JORDAN CREEK IN 1863, the rush to the Owyhee mountain range began in earnest. Dozens of mining camps sprang into existence, one being Silver City. The activity was first limited to the creek, but rich deposits of gold and silver were soon discovered in the nearby War Eagle and Florida mountains. At the peak of the town’s success, Silver City had about twelve streets that were anything but level, seventy-five businesses, and three hundred homes with a population around twenty-five hundred. Some extremely rich mines caused intense battles. One required the U.S. Cavalry’s arrival to bring the dispute to an end. It is believed that over sixty million dollars’ worth of precious metal, at the value of that time period, was removed from the area. The living ghost town of Silver City receives thousands of visitors each year seeking a taste of what the Old West and mining towns of the past were really like. Many hike the mountains still peppered with mine shafts. About seventy-five original, privately owned structures, dating back to the 1860s, still remain and are well maintained. Some visitors are fortunate enough to spend a night in the Idaho Hotel. Restored for use, the hotel is filled with history, antiques, and atmosphere.
Janelle Mowery
Chapter One
Summer 1869
“The next time I get my hands on him…”
Whump.
“…he won’t stand a chance.”
Rebekah Weaver took careful aim at the dark green oval in the center of the rug, then swung the beater with all her strength.
Whack! That was better. Right on target and sure to be felt. She struck the rug two more times for good measure, then stood back and observed her handiwork with a satisfied smile.
“You keep hitting the rug that way, Rebekah, and there won’t be much of a pattern left.”
At her mother’s voice, Rebekah’s smile dissolved. She turned and lifted her apron to wipe the perspiration from her forehead and neck. “I didn’t hear you get back.” She must look a sight—what with all the dust she’d removed from the rug reattaching itself to her skin. “Do you need help unloading the supplies?”
“If it keeps you from stripping my favorite rug of every thread, yes.” After setting one large basket on the porch, her mother headed back for another. “What’s got you riled? I know that poor carpet is innocent.”
Rebekah leaned the rug beater against the house and emulated her mother’s regal walk as she followed her to the buggy. “Your son…” She blew out a breath that could start a windstorm.
Laughing, her mother handed her a sack of flour before grabbing the sugar and a package wrapped in brown paper. “Well, let’s see. Since Michael is studying law in St. Louis, I guess you must be talking about Andrew.”
“Who else? Mama, trouble sticks to him like stink on a pig.”
“Now, Rebekah, he’s only ten.”
“I’m serious.” They plunked their loads beside the basket on the porch and returned for the last of the supplies. “Andrew doesn’t have to go looking for trouble—it stays with him like they’re best friends.”
They each carried a basket inside the house, through the entry-way, and on into the kitchen. Mama set her provisions on the table before dropping onto one of the chairs. She lifted the apron hanging from the back of the seat and dabbed at the moisture on her face.
“All right, tell me what happened.”
Rebekah’s shoulders relaxed. She’d thought Mama would never ask. She needed sympathy and quite possibly an ally. For emphasis and drama, Rebekah remained standing. She set her basket next to her mother’s, pressed her hands on the smooth, hand-carved table, and announced, “Andrew put a snake in the basket of clothes I planned to hang out on the line.”
The humorous twitching at the corners of Mama’s mouth was the exact opposite reaction Rebekah had hoped for.
She stood upright and crossed her arms. “It’s not funny, Mama. I nearly shed my own skin, I jumped so fast. Not to mention that most vile of creatures touched all those clean clothes. I had to rewash them.”
Mama leaned back, looking weary. Maybe the heat was too much for her today. The sun coming out full force after buckets of rain the last couple days made the humidity unbearable. A breeze would do wonders but had yet to make an appearance. Worry for Mama wormed its way into Rebekah’s heart. She shrugged and buried her anger. She’d deal with Andrew on her own. Besides, a full-grown woman of twenty-one ought to be able to best a ten-year-old boy.
“I’ll admit putting a snake in with the clean clothes is going a bit too far. I’ll talk to him about that.” Mama rubbed her hand over the polished tabletop. “But I thought you’d be used to Andrew’s antics by now.”
A shiver started at Rebekah’s scalp and raced to her toes. “I’ll never get used to snakes.”
Mama chuckled. “I’m guessing he knows that. But you’ve got to admire his creativity.”
“I do?”
“Sure. Most days, you’re the only playmate he has. What’s more fun than making a girl scream, especially if it’s a sister?” Mama shrugged. “It makes you pay him some attention, even if it’s bad attention.”
With a loud sigh, Rebekah plopped onto the chair across from her mother. “I never thought about it that way. He’s gotten worse since Michael left for St. Louis. I guess Andrew misses him and is using me for his amusement. Now I miss Michael more than ever.” She propped her chin in her left hand and traced the scar on her cheek with her forefinger. “So either I get used to snakes and frogs to keep from reacting to his pranks, or I find time each day to play with him.”
“That sounds like a wise decision.” Mama got up from the chair and shuffled to put away the supplies. “Now, if you aren’t mad at And
rew anymore, maybe you can take Misty and the buggy out to the barn, then try to find your brother and let him know you’re no longer in the mood to cause him harm.”
Rebekah laughed as she stood and gave her mother a quick hug. “Sure. But first I’ll bring in the rest of your purchases.”
After releasing their horse Misty into the fenced pasture, Rebekah returned to the barn and called out for her brother. She silently listened for a snicker or shuffle of hay.
Nothing.
That left his second favorite place to check. She headed for the creek, hoping he wasn’t full of mud. Or worse yet, that she’d end up muddy. No longer did she cringe at the thought of walking so far. It had taken months to get used to the high elevation of their new home, but thankfully the hike no longer winded her.
The breeze she’d begged for earlier finally arrived but only in a short burst, rustling the leaves of the few aspen trees and the shiny needles of the pines and firs lining the creek. A second waft soon followed but died as swiftly as the first. The massive trees provided plenty of shade from the burning sun. The thought of burning made her finger the scar on her cheek, no longer so tender after a year of healing. Still, she should have worn her bonnet to protect the sensitive skin.
The scratching of denim against bark drew Rebekah’s attention. Andrew must have seen her and was trying to hide. That meant she’d probably be scrubbing pine sap from his clothes again. She left the lane’s edge and tiptoed her way through the patchy grass, trying to avoid any muddy areas, stopping well short of the swollen creek.
“Andrew,” she called in a singsong voice as she peered up into the trees. The little bugger could sure hide well. How high did he climb? “I’m not mad any longer.” Maybe that would make him show himself.
The words worked as planned. The sun glinted off his towhead as he peeked down from a branch midway up. His sweet, angelic face was the perfect disguise for the little imp dwelling inside. Andrew had a charming side that could warm the coldest heart. With his wide grin, long lashes, and pleasant personality, he’d lure her tender side to the fore—right up until he pulled one of his pranks.
Andrew’s face screwed into a frown. “Are you sure you’re not mad? You looked ready to turn my hide inside out.”
Rebekah lifted an eyebrow at his colorful, though grisly, description. “Fear of that snake nearly did the same to me.” She shuddered. “But I’m not mad anymore. Why don’t you come down and we’ll talk about it?”
Andrew shook his head. “I don’t believe you. It’s a trick to get me down so you can give me a good whipping.”
Rebekah held up her empty hands and wiggled her fingers. “See? No switch. I’m telling the truth. You’re safe to come down.”
Andrew grinned. “Watch what I can do, Bek.” He lowered himself to the next branch while keeping hold of the one above, moving farther toward the end. Her heart stopped as he started to bounce, making the branch dip lower with each lunge. “It feels like I’m flying.”
Heart inching into her throat, panic struck harder than when she’d smacked the rug earlier. She speared a glance at the water and couldn’t see bottom. Terror brought her eyes back to her brother. “Careful, Andrew.”
More words of warning swam through her brain but somehow refused to leave her mouth. “Stop!” finally forced its way through but was drowned out by the cracking of the branch.
The horror that made her breath catch in her lungs was reflected on Andrew’s face as he began his descent, the rotten branch leading the way. “Bekah! Help!”
Andrew landed in the swollen creek with a hard splash. Rebekah ran forward. All she saw in her mind’s eye was Andrew tangled in branches as they pulled him under water. She had to get him out. Without another thought, Rebekah jumped into the numbing cold and landed right where Andrew had disappeared. Gasping for air, she swallowed water.
“Andrew!” she screamed, kicking and reaching till she latched onto her brother’s shirt. As her sodden skirts dragged her toward the bottom, panic set in. Then she remembered: she didn’t know how to swim.
Nathaniel Kirkland watched and listened with amusement to the exchange between the woman and child, right up until the woman thrashed in the water like a frightened cat. Her gulps for breaths as she struggled and clawed the air to keep her head high proved her inability to swim. Nate had yet to see the boy reappear. He heeled his mount into a gallop and raced to the creek’s edge, stripped off his gun belt and hat, then lunged from the saddle into the water.
Chapter Two
Nate surfaced to get a breath of air, gasping at the shock of cold water. The boy’s head bobbed near the top, his small arms flailing. Nate reached for him, only to have the boy elude his grasp. Furiously kicking his feet, Nate lunged and grabbed an arm.
With a hard yank, the boy’s head appeared. Gasping and sputtering, the youngster sucked in several breaths. He bobbed like a piece of cork, before the wailing began. In between gulps, he repeated one word.
“Bek!” Another gasp. “Bekah!”
Nate made an instant decision. Get the boy to shore, then look for the girl. As Nate tugged and kicked, neither of them moved. He pulled harder. The boy screeched. Nate figured his leg was hooked to something.
Running his hand down the boy’s leg, Nate found another arm. He grabbed and hauled with every ounce of strength he owned. The weight was incredible, but the girl’s head finally broke the surface.
She blasted a breath of air, then gulped several in succession before she sobbed, “Andrew?” She had released his leg and grasped for him again.
Nate couldn’t wait any longer. He was running out of strength. If he didn’t hurry, they’d all drown. With everything left in him, Nate kicked his legs, dragging his two burdens with him. Progress was slow, but the shore was coming into reach. Now to get the boy and girl on dry land.
An arm wrapped around Nate’s neck. He couldn’t breathe. He had no strength left. They went under. In that instant, his neck was released. He felt the girl and boy struggling. Begging for strength, Nate pushed for the surface. In one smooth move, he flung the boy to the shore, the current having swept them to where Nate could finally touch bottom and still keep his head above the waterline. He grabbed the girl with both hands and pulled her out of the water.
He dropped to the ground beside them both, where they all lay gasping for air, completely spent. Within moments, the boy started to cry. The girl rose on one elbow and reached for him. They sat up and hugged, weeping, while they shivered.
The girl examined the boy’s face. “Are you all right?”
The boy nodded. She grasped him by his shoulders and gave a shake. “Don’t scare me like that—ever again.” She pulled him back into her arms. “You’re going to be the death of me yet, Andrew.”
The boy struggled to be let loose, then stared at Nate. Thankful for the sun warming his chilled skin, Nate finally pushed to his knees and shook off the excess water from his hair.
The girl turned and held out a trembling hand. “Thank you.”
Nate gaped at the red splotch on her cheek. “Are you hurt?”
Her hand flew to her face for only a moment before returning to grasp Andrew’s hand. “I’m Rebekah Weaver. This is Andrew.” Her voice cracked. She took another gulp of air. Her throat worked. “Thank you so much for your help. I don’t know what—”
“You’re welcome.” Poor girl. The strain of what she’d just been through caused her much distress. “I’m glad I was here.”
While she scrutinized Andrew’s face, Nate studied hers. He’d never seen such an odd scarring before. Had she been burned?
She swung around and caught him staring. He could feel his face flame as he looked away. To cover the awkward situation, he yanked off his sodden boots, dumped the water, then pulled them back on. The way she fussed over the boy, Nate assumed she was his mother. But up close, she appeared much too young to have a son his age. Except for the scar on her cheek, her skin looked as smooth as a girl in her teens.
The boy jumped up like he’d been stung. By the wide eyes and full grin, he appeared fully recovered from his dunking. “I can take you. It’s right over the hill.”
“Andrew.”
The girl’s motherly side kicked in again. Rebekah, was it? She stood and put a protective arm around Andrew’s shoulders, which he tried to shrug off. Nate hid a smile. He remembered trying to extricate himself from his mother when she tried to coddle him for too many years. Boys that age wanted to be considered men. On their own terms, of course. They also still wanted to avoid responsibilities and play like children. A confusing time. Nate felt for the lad.
“Your name is Andrew?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m Nathaniel Kirkland.” Nate stuck out his hand and the boy shook it, now standing as tall as he could stretch his spine. “Friends call me Nate.”
Andrew grinned and shook Nate’s hand harder. “Hello, Nate. You can call me Andy. Only ones who call me Andrew are my parents and Bekah.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder toward his sister. “Especially when they’re mad. Then they add my middle name.”
This time, Nate couldn’t stop his smile. He understood about adding the middle name. He’d gotten to the point that he nearly hated his by the time he was grown. “And what’s your middle name?”
Andrew made a face like he wondered if he really wanted to share that information. Then the grin returned. “I guess I can trust you with it. It’s Robert. Named after my grandfather.”
“That’s a mighty fine name.” Nate crouched down and lowered his voice. “Just be sure to watch out when they start tacking on your last name.”
Andrew peered up at him, his head cocked, one eye closed as he squinted against the sun. “Really?”