“Rafe, I already like them.”
He gave her a level stare. “Then you are nuts.”
“And I love you.”
He closed his eyes and his lips moved silently. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was praying. If fact, she thought she heard him mention St. Augustine.
She decided to answer his prayers and not push him beyond his endurance. “I’m going outside to do some forms and meditate,” she said.
“Stay near the house,” he cautioned.
She turned in the doorway to peer back at him. Rafe was half-sitting against the headboard with both arms folded behind his neck, grinning. His body still carried bruises from his various beatings. His hands were calloused from hard work. She wanted more than anything to make love with the handsome rogue, to feel him inside her body again, to show him with kisses and caresses just how much he meant to her, to strengthen this tenuous bond that was growing day by day between them. But I can’t.
“Go to sleep,” she said. Maybe tomorrow will be the day we hit a strike, and we can head home. Maybe then we can end this sexual torture you’ve imposed on us. Maybe then we can plan a future together.
Together? Will we be together in the future? Helen wondered, suddenly alarmed. Rafe had never mentioned marriage, or living together, or commitment of any kind. In fact, over and over, he’d made it clear he’d never marry or have children.
That night, Helen had trouble meditating and doing her forms. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring her mind to a state of harmony. Rafael Santiago was clouding her concentration.
“I’ll give us two more weeks of prospecting. If we don’t hit a strike by then, we’ll go home,” Rafe told her the next morning. “It’s October ninth now. Our deadline will be October twenty-third. Okay?”
Startled by his sudden announcement, she asked, “Why? I mean, why are you giving up now?”
He shrugged. “Reality, sweetheart. We’re in a race against the elements. Another two months and we risk being snowed in for the winter. Even Rich Bar will start to empty out soon when the winter exodus to the south begins.”
Helen knew that the northern diggings pretty much closed down for the winter when the rainy season began, and that could be anywhere from late October to early December. Roads became quagmires. Streams flooded into virtual swamps. And at higher elevations, snow was a deadly threat.
“If I were the only one involved, I’d probably just stay till I struck a bonanza, or die trying,” Rafe continued, “but I won’t do that to you, honey.”
“We have been here in the past for almost eight weeks already,” she replied defensively. “Heck, we’ve been at Angel Valley alone for more than a month.”
“And still no gold, no harness, no parachutes, and no immediate hopes for returning to the future,” he pointed out before she could say so herself.
She followed Rafe down to the stream, explaining at length as they walked why his mercenary attitude toward life was filled with loopholes. “You know, Rafe, the worst thing about being in the rat race is, even when you win, you’re just another rat.”
Rafe gathered together his pick and shovel and several tin pans, trying to tune Helen out.
“Furthermore,” Helen droned on, “you know what they say about lying down with dogs. You come up with fleas. Just extrapolate that to rats. If you run with rats, you eat a lot of vermin.” She continued to rant on regardless of whether he answered her or not.
He scanned the area and decided to set up his equipment in a new spot today, where the stream widened slightly and had some interesting boulders on its banks.
He tried to ignore Helen’s long-winded lecture on all his shortcomings and all her wonderful, superior philosophies on everything from money to family values to the meaning of life.
He glanced up when Helen wound down to silence. She was standing with her hands on her hips, tapping a foot impatiently at his failure to acknowledge her advice. Her flaming hair was tied back into a ponytail, topped by a wide-brimmed hat. She was wearing her camouflage pants laced into the high skydiving boots and the blasted green T-shirt tucked into her waistband.