Rafe raised his head and sheer bliss spread across his face. “No, Helen, it’s just beginning.” He pointed to the cavity in the ground, and she saw at least a dozen huge nuggets, and the reddish earth was loaded with a yellowish dust. Still more nuggets and dust clung to the long roots of the fallen tree. Rafe pumped his fist in the air in the victory sign.
Gold! Rafe had finally hit his bonanza.
He pulled her in his arms. He danced her around the snow. He kissed her and hugged her and shouted his joy.
“We can go home now, honey,” Rafe exclaimed jubilantly. “All my troubles are over now.”
Helen should have been happy. For some reason, she started to weep.
The next afternoon, they were in the root cellar, stacking the last of the gold they’d gathered from the hole and its immediate surroundings, when they heard a shout echoing over the little valley.
“HEL-LO-O-O-O!”
“Zeb!” they both said at the same time.
“I can’t wait to tell Zeb about our strike,” Rafe said with boyish zeal.
Helen scanned the cloth bags lining the walls — close to 150 pounds of gold nuggets and dust. Rafe had told her over and over since yesterday that their bonanza was worth almost forty thousand dollars by 1850 rates and a cool million in the 1996 exchange.
She was excited over their windfall, too, but nowhere near as much as Rafe. Helen couldn’t help thinking that Rafe was headed for a major disappointment. Although he constantly criticized her for nagging, she said nothing now, not wanting to rain on his parade.
Smiling, Rafe laced his fingers with hers and pulled her up the steps. When they got to the other side of the cabin, Zeb and Hector were just emerging into the valley from the steep path up the mountain. They were followed by a milk cow, whose moos were being drowned out by the cackling of some chickens in a small crate tied to the back of Zeb’s mule. The new additions must have cost a mint and been a chore getting up the mountain.
“Hector is back,” Rafe said, casting her a significant look. Of course, she was happy that Hector had returned with Zeb, but his return meant that Pablo must not have arrived in Rich Bar yet. Therefore, no parachutes.
But that concern was put aside for now in the joyous rush of the reunion. Between hugs and clasping hands and everyone talking at once, Rafe got out that they’d hit pay-dirt, thanks to the bears, and Zeb gave them bits and pieces of gossip from Rich Bar. Hector took the horses off to the barn to unsaddle and stable them, then ran in a hundred different directions, wanting to explore all his favorite trees and birds’ nests and other childhood delights.
“Don’t go too far,” Rafe warned. “The bears may still be close by.”
“I’ll go out and get those grizzlies tomorrow,” Zeb said confidently. “Can’t have them consarned varmints tram-blin’ through a homestead, ‘specially with a young’un about.”
Helen wanted to protest, but Rafe put a cautioning hand on her arm. After all, this was another time and culture, and they had no right interfering. Especially since they’d be leaving soon.
A short time later, they drank tin cups of fresh brewed coffee with slices of her newly baked bread, slathered with honey. Zeb had brought fresh supplies with him, including coffee beans. Hector took his honey bread outside, wanting to check on the fish lines. Rafe faced Helen across the table and Zeb moved to his rocking chair.
Swiping a fingertip over the top of the honeycomb, Rafe dipped it in his mouth, making sure she saw the gesture.
When he winked at her, she knew he was remembering the same thing she was. And it wasn’t bees.
The lout! A lovable lout, but a lout just the same. She made a face at him, and he just grinned.
Meanwhile, Zeb let out a loud sigh of contentment, glad to be home. And his rocking chair went creak, creak, creak. With each creak, the grin on Rafe’s face grew wider and wider.
“Don’tcha just love the sound of a rocker?” Rafe mused. “It brings to mind so many… memories.”