Into the Bright Unknown (The Gold Seer Trilogy #3)(90)

Becky takes it from Mary’s hand. “After the breakfast rush, I’ll frame it and post it in the tavern so everyone can see it,” she says brightly. She tucks the charter and letter into her apron pocket. “Now, get back to work, both of you. These miners won’t feed themselves.”

We’ve barely served a handful of people before Jefferson arrives, looking more proper and well-groomed than he usually does before a hard day of prospecting. I’m about to tell him about our shiny new charter, but he preempts me in an overly loud voice. “Leah Elizabeth Westfall!”

I’m so startled that I almost drop the coffeepot.

He grins. “Maybe you should set that down.”

I do, slowly, as the sound of scraping forks ceases and everyone—Becky, the Buckeyes, the Chinese, and Mary—all turn to stare.

“Um. Good morning, Jeff?”

Still grinning, he reaches into his pocket while dropping to one knee. “I know you already proposed to me, and I know we’re getting hitched tomorrow, one way or the other. But I still reckon it’s right and proper to give you this.” He reaches up, and my gold sense knows what he holds in his hand even before my eyes take it in. A gold band, shiny and new.

I pinch it between thumb and forefinger, holding it up to the light. “Jeff,” I say. “You know I don’t need fancies. Or any more gold.”

“I know. But that ring is special, see. Remember that nugget you gave me? Seems like a long time ago now. You tracked a wounded deer onto our homestead and chanced upon that nugget in a stream. And you gave it to me the day your mama and daddy died, said it wasn’t yours by right.”

“I remember.”

“Well, this is me, giving it back to you.”

I blink at him, my knees suddenly quivery. I knew he had kept it. I found it in a box of his things the night Frank Dilley set our camp on fire, but I’d had no idea why he kept it. Tears prick at my eyes. “Jefferson, this is the nicest thing. Making that nugget into a ring . . .”

“Put it on.”

I do, and it slips onto my finger and sends tingling warmth through my whole hand, like it was meant to be there all along. I hold it up, admiring the way it shines in the light. A little piece of home, a bit of shared history, tying us together as powerfully as any wedding vow.

“Thank you.”

“So does this mean you’ll marry me after all?”

As if there was any question. I lean down and throw my arms around him, almost knocking him back. Everyone around us cheers like it was a proper proposal, even the Chinese miners.

Jefferson gets to his feet and hugs me back, his face nuzzling my hair. Reluctantly, I disentangle myself. There’s a lot to do before our wedding tomorrow, and I need to get back to work.

Someone clears his throat. It’s Old Tug, standing from the table, hat crumpled tight in his hand. His friends give him nods of encouragement. “You can do it, Tug,” says one, as another slaps him on the back.

“I guess this is as fine a moment as any,” he says. For once, he wears a clean shirt and pressed trousers, and he’s obviously made an attempt at combing his thistly hair. He takes a deep breath.

Jefferson and I exchange a puzzled glance and sit on the nearest bench, glad to cede the stage to someone else.

“Miss Mary,” Tug begins, and he starts twisting that hat in his hand.

Mary freezes, like a rabbit who’s sighted a fox. Slowly, carefully, she sets her basket of biscuits on the table and folds her hands together over her apron.

Twist, twist, twist, goes Tug’s hat. “I know I’m not a fancy man. And even though I’m mighty fine looking, I concede that I am but the fourth best-looking fellow in this town.”

Fourth? At least he doesn’t lack optimism.

“But I work hard, and I’m healthy and strong,” Tug continues. “A catch for any woman. But, see, I don’t want any woman. I want you, Miss Mary. To be my wife. You’re the nicest, handsomest, uppittiest woman I ever knew, and it’d make me the happiest man in the world if you said yes.”

And then, Tug shocks us all by clearing his throat again and letting loose a long string of Chinese. No one gapes more than Mary.

Tug grins. “Been practicing that for months, with the help of some of my friends here. You’ll always be smarter than me, and I’m sure I bungled that a fair piece, but . . . maybe you can teach me true?”

Silence reigns in the tavern.

I lean toward Jefferson and whisper, “He’s never proposed like that before. He must really love her.”

Jefferson whispers back, “Mary is the only thing he’s been talking about for the last two months.”

Finally Mary unclenches her hands, lifts her chin, and says, “Mr. Tuggle, I would be honored to become your wife.”

Tears brim over in Tug’s eyes, and suddenly all the Buckeyes are whooping and hollering like it’s the Fourth of July.

“Two weddings in Glory this year!” I say, delighted.

“Three,” says a voice at my ear. It’s the Major, slipping onto the bench beside Jeff and me. “Becky said yes,” he explains. “But we prefer to keep things quiet for now. We’ll wait until her husband has been gone from us a whole year, God rest his soul.”

Jefferson claps him on the back, as I reach out to take his hand. “That’s wonderful news, Major,” I tell him.