Into the Bright Unknown (The Gold Seer Trilogy #3)(3)

I give his shoulder a pat and move on to the next table.

The Buckeyes eat quickly, but unlike most customers, they scoot their chairs and benches in and take their dishes to the wash station themselves. They tip their hats at Mary, who is elbow deep in the washtub. Old Tug lingers. “Have a fine day, Miss Mary,” he says, with the most earnest, hopeful gaze I ever saw on a fellow.

She looks up from her dishwashing and smiles. “Thank you, Mr. Tuggle. You too.”

After they leave, Mary turns to Becky. “All right if I steal away with Lee for a spell? She needs me. I’ll be back to finish the dishes; I won’t shirk.”

Becky stops scraping the griddle just long enough to give a wave of permission.

Mary grabs my hand and pulls me away from the stoves and the giant awning and into the sunshine. “I’m so glad you wanted to talk,” she says. “I needed a break.”

“Is it awful, working for Becky?”

“No, not exactly,” Mary says. We head toward the creek and then turn upstream. The path is rocky and steep, but well traveled now that so many Glory residents have claims in this direction. “But after the miners leave, it’s just me and Becky and Olive, working in silence. Olive is a sweet thing, but I don’t think Becky cares for me much.”

I’m not sure she’s wrong. “Becky is distrustful of all things unfamiliar,” I tell her. “But she’ll come around.”

Mary shrugs like it’s no big deal, but Mary is not one to share her thoughts easily, and the fact that she did is a sure sign that she is vexed.

“Becky hasn’t been unkind to you, has she?” I ask.

“No. But she hasn’t been kind either. Anyway, what did you want to talk about?”

“Not yet. Once we’re out of earshot of town.”

Mary raises her eyebrows but doesn’t protest.

We continue uphill until we reach a spot where the creek stairsteps down a series of boulders, creating frothing rapids. The sound of the rushing water ought to mask our voices.

I glance around to make sure no stray miners are passing by. “So,” I say. “I have a secret.”

“I’m listening,” Mary says, and she has that unreadable look again, the one I used to find so daunting.

I take a deep breath. Why does this never get easier? “You see . . . I . . . You know Old Tug?” Silently I curse myself for cowardice.

“Yes.”

“He’s sweet on you. He might ask you to marry him. Didn’t want you to be caught by surprise.”

Her face brightens. “Maybe I ought to encourage him.”

Not the answer I expected. “Mary! He’s vile!”

She nods. “Yes. All men are vile.”

“No, they’re—”

“Lee, I know a lot more about men than you do, and trust me, they’re all gross, disgusting creatures. But Tug is nice. Maybe the nicest man in Glory. He never grabs me or threatens me or treats me like I’m not a person. He could stand to bathe more, but he always picks up his dishes, and he leaves me generous tips.”

“Huh.” I consider defending Jefferson, who is the opposite of vile, but I decide I’d rather not argue. “I hadn’t pegged you for the marrying kind.”

She gives me a look that would curdle cream. “Because of my previous occupation?”

“No! You’re just . . . I guess I don’t know.”

“Well, I haven’t decided if I want to marry or not. But if I do, it will be to a kindhearted fellow like Tug. Is that what you needed all this secrecy for? To tell me about him?”

“No.”

Mary crosses her arms. “Out with it, Lee.”

I sigh. A breeze sends a gust of waterfall spray, and as I wipe my wet face with the end of my scarf, I say, “So . . . remember my uncle? How he kidnapped me? Forced me to help with his mining operation?”

“I was there, remember?”

“Right. Of course.” The end of the scarf twists in my hands. Twist, twist, twist. “Before that, he killed my parents. Took over the homestead. And after I escaped, he chased me across the continent.”

Mary peers into my face. “I always thought his obsession with you was mighty peculiar. I mean, you’re his niece, but still.”

“It was more than that. And Mary, you have to swear up and down and sideways that you won’t tell another soul what I’m about to tell you.”

“I’ll swear no such thing. You either trust me or you don’t.”

I glare at her. She is determined to make this difficult. “Fine. Here it is. I can find gold. Not like a miner. Like a witch. I have a . . . power.”

Her black eyes fly wide as she blurts something in Chinese.

“What? I don’t know what you just said—”

“Something my mother would have whipped me for saying. Are you serious, Lee? You are serious, aren’t you. You’re not funning me at all.”

“I’m not funning you.”

Her sudden smile could light up all of California. “Show me!”

“Wait. You believe me?”

“Of course. You may be daft sometimes, naive in the ways of men, but you’re not a liar. And it makes sense. All those rumors about the Golden Goddess . . .”