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Authors: Amber Stokes
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once more. Then a realization startled her more than seeing Joe without his beard. The reason she really yearned to see his eyes again was because they reminded her of David’s. Of course, David’s eyes were a bit darker, like the hills surrounding Virginia City at dusk…
The rest of the trip back to the house, she refused to look at Joe again.
Chapter 9
“Are you Myghal?” David stood in front of the boardinghouse, ready to do just about anything to find a place to put up his feet and sleep. Never had he been so tired, so dirty, and so sore. He wouldn’t get paid nearly enough for the pain working in the mines had already caused him. And the fear. Man wasn’t made to work in temperatures like that.
“I might be. Depends on why ya be askin’.” The Cornish man stared hard at David, sizing him up and most likely taking in his disheveled state. The other men here couldn’t be much better off, David reckoned. The Irishman, who told David to call him Finn, had given David directions to the boardinghouse on Howard Street where Myghal was staying with many of the other Cornish miners. David desperately hoped that Myghal would prove to be a friend—he was in need of one just now.
“Finn told me to ask you about a place to stay.”
“Finn sent ye, huh?” Myghal turned to his companions, who were also hanging out on the porch of the boardinghouse. “Finn wouldn’t send just anyone off the street. He ’n I ’ave been friends for a long time.” He eyed David again, crossing his stick arms over his thin chest. “What can I do fer ya?”
“I just need a place to stay among friends. An affordable place would be preferable.”
Myghal grinned broadly. His dirty, reddish hair seemed to glow in the light coming from the street lamps, and he appeared skinnier than one of the planks on the porch. “We might just be friends. And this place is more than affordable. Right, fellas?” Appreciative laughter rang out in the brisk night air.
Tossing his head back a bit, Myghal said, “Ye can call me Michael, if ya’d prefer.”
David wanted to smile at the confused accent, which sounded like a mixture of English, Irish or Scottish, and American West. He managed to keep a straight face and acknowledged the recognized challenge.
“I’d prefer to call you Myghal, if that’s all right.”
“Hear that, boys?” Myghal guffawed loudly, sending his thin frame into spasms. “He likes m’ God-given name.” He straightened and offered his hand. “Well, then, I’ll be askin’ fer yer name, and then ye ought to step on in and git some sleep.”
David clasped the man’s bony hand and gave it a good shake, pleased. “My name’s David.”
Myghal pulled David up the single wooden step and put an arm around his shoulders. “C’mon in, David. Reckon ye can join us here men from Cornwall, iffen ya’d like.”
The acceptance felt good. As he walked into the boardinghouse, though, David thought that sleep might feel even better.
***
“Jacob isn’t here yet?” Elizabeth wasn’t sure what to think as she walked into her brother’s house—without her brother in it. Annabelle fiddled with her hair, now in a blond braid, and shook her head.
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Joe reassured her, his tone dark.
Silence filled up the parlor until its originally expansive feel became stifling. Annabelle finally asked, “May I get either of you anything? I’m sure all of your walking has made you thirsty.”
Elizabeth cringed at the reminder of her small rebellion.
“I think some water fer both of us would be good.” Joe turned to Elizabeth and asked, “How’d that be?”
“Fine.” Meeting Annabelle’s somber gaze, she offered a timid smile and added, “Thank you.”
Nodding, Annabelle walked out of the room. This time, Joe didn’t let the silence come back.
“How ’bout I show ya the ranch this weekend?”
Elizabeth collapsed into a chair and considered his request. It felt so good to relax, and
The rest of the trip back to the house, she refused to look at Joe again.
Chapter 9
“Are you Myghal?” David stood in front of the boardinghouse, ready to do just about anything to find a place to put up his feet and sleep. Never had he been so tired, so dirty, and so sore. He wouldn’t get paid nearly enough for the pain working in the mines had already caused him. And the fear. Man wasn’t made to work in temperatures like that.
“I might be. Depends on why ya be askin’.” The Cornish man stared hard at David, sizing him up and most likely taking in his disheveled state. The other men here couldn’t be much better off, David reckoned. The Irishman, who told David to call him Finn, had given David directions to the boardinghouse on Howard Street where Myghal was staying with many of the other Cornish miners. David desperately hoped that Myghal would prove to be a friend—he was in need of one just now.
“Finn told me to ask you about a place to stay.”
“Finn sent ye, huh?” Myghal turned to his companions, who were also hanging out on the porch of the boardinghouse. “Finn wouldn’t send just anyone off the street. He ’n I ’ave been friends for a long time.” He eyed David again, crossing his stick arms over his thin chest. “What can I do fer ya?”
“I just need a place to stay among friends. An affordable place would be preferable.”
Myghal grinned broadly. His dirty, reddish hair seemed to glow in the light coming from the street lamps, and he appeared skinnier than one of the planks on the porch. “We might just be friends. And this place is more than affordable. Right, fellas?” Appreciative laughter rang out in the brisk night air.
Tossing his head back a bit, Myghal said, “Ye can call me Michael, if ya’d prefer.”
David wanted to smile at the confused accent, which sounded like a mixture of English, Irish or Scottish, and American West. He managed to keep a straight face and acknowledged the recognized challenge.
“I’d prefer to call you Myghal, if that’s all right.”
“Hear that, boys?” Myghal guffawed loudly, sending his thin frame into spasms. “He likes m’ God-given name.” He straightened and offered his hand. “Well, then, I’ll be askin’ fer yer name, and then ye ought to step on in and git some sleep.”
David clasped the man’s bony hand and gave it a good shake, pleased. “My name’s David.”
Myghal pulled David up the single wooden step and put an arm around his shoulders. “C’mon in, David. Reckon ye can join us here men from Cornwall, iffen ya’d like.”
The acceptance felt good. As he walked into the boardinghouse, though, David thought that sleep might feel even better.
***
“Jacob isn’t here yet?” Elizabeth wasn’t sure what to think as she walked into her brother’s house—without her brother in it. Annabelle fiddled with her hair, now in a blond braid, and shook her head.
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Joe reassured her, his tone dark.
Silence filled up the parlor until its originally expansive feel became stifling. Annabelle finally asked, “May I get either of you anything? I’m sure all of your walking has made you thirsty.”
Elizabeth cringed at the reminder of her small rebellion.
“I think some water fer both of us would be good.” Joe turned to Elizabeth and asked, “How’d that be?”
“Fine.” Meeting Annabelle’s somber gaze, she offered a timid smile and added, “Thank you.”
Nodding, Annabelle walked out of the room. This time, Joe didn’t let the silence come back.
“How ’bout I show ya the ranch this weekend?”
Elizabeth collapsed into a chair and considered his request. It felt so good to relax, and
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