Eliza Brooks is haunted by her role in her mother's death, so she'll do anything to find her missing pa—even if it means sneaking aboard a southbound ship. When those meant to protect her abandon and betray her instead, a family friend's unexpected assistance is a blessing she can't refuse.
Daniel Clarke came to California to make his fortune, and a stable job as a San Francisco carpenter has earned him more than most have scraped from the local goldfields. But it's been four years since he left Massachusetts and his fiancé is impatient for his return. Bound for home at last, Daniel Clarke finds his heart and plans challenged by a tenacious young woman with haunted eyes. Though every word he utters seems to offend her, he is determined to see her safely returned to her father. Even if that means risking his fragile engagement.
When disaster befalls them in the remote wilderness of the Southern California mountains, true feelings are revealed, and both must face heart-rending decisions. But how to decide when every choice before them leads to someone getting hurt?
October
1850
California
gold fields
They were going to starve to death, if they didn’t
freeze to death first. Sure, they had beans for dinner, but Eli had had to
trade her spare shirt for them—the one she’d been wearing beneath her everyday
shirt to keep the early-October frost from biting her skin. She shivered beside
the fire. Not much left to trade for supper, but then, there wasn’t another
miner in these diggings that had grub to spare even if she had something worth
trading.
She studied each bean, careful not to burn a one.
Her hollow stomach cramped as the sweet smell of the simmering meal mixed with
the scent of wood smoke filling the air.
A pinch of rosemary would have added flavor. Would
Mama have been disappointed Eli’d traded the last of their herbs for Pa’s new
coat? She shook her head. If Eli couldn’t coax Pa from the creek, the least she
could do was keep his shoulders warm. Mama would have understood.
A shift in the cold wind blew soot into Eli’s eyes
as she lifted the pan from the fire. Brushing a grimy strand of hair from her
face and blinking away the sting, she turned her back to the smoke and stirred
the beans.
Time to get Pa.
She walked to where he squatted in the icy mountain
creek.
He wouldn’t be happy she’d traded
the spare shirt. He’d wanted it to hide her blossoming womanhood. Of course,
he’d have to notice the shirt was gone first.
Standing beside the babbling water, she toed off her
boots before yanking her tattered socks off.
After stuffing them into a boot, she pulled up her trousers and, with a bracing
breath, waded into the chilling water.
“Here, Pa.”
She held the spoon out handle first, but he shrugged
her away. Afternoon sunlight bounced off his thin, greasy hair—brown like hers,
but darkened by muck. His dirt-encrusted brown eyes continued squinting into
the swirling pan of water. The gentle rotation of his wrists never ceased.
“Come on, Pa. You gotta eat.”
He cleared his throat and spat to the side opposite where she stood, never taking his eyes
from the water. “I’m fine. You eat.”
Eli lifted the spoon higher. “But, Pa—”
“I’ll eat later.” He shifted in the calf-deep water so that her worried stare landed squarely
between his broad shoulder blades.
Her fingers tightened around the spoon as she
planted her fist on her hip. The rocks shifted beneath her feet. “That’s what
you said this morning.”
“I’m busy, Eli. Now hush and leave me be.”
She stood there a moment longer, taking in the sight
of him. That tall, too-thin frame draped in the now too-large, threadbare shirt.
She’d mended that thing more times than she could count. The trousers he kept
up with a rope at his waist needed mending in the right knee, but she doubted
the fabric could endure another stitching. She peered down at her own trousers.
The worn threads of the cuffs drifted and tugged
with the current.
She frowned at the beans cooling in the pan. A body
shouldn’t have to choose between clothes and food. But miners upstream caught
any fish in the creek, and hunting around here was pointless. All the digging,
rattling, and mining commotion scared the game away.
She’d tried to coax Pa
to leave their claim long enough to hunt elsewhere to no avail.
Mama
could’ve convinced him.
Mama
isn’t here. Eli straightened her shoulders. “Pa, this is the last—”
“Hey, Eli!”
The familiar voice cut her off.
She turned in time to see a small rock sail toward
her head and managed to duck it, but the move upset her balance. She tipped
backward.
The beans!
Contorting herself to right her balance without
spilling their dinner, she wobbled back and forth as stones rocked beneath her.
She shifted her footing, but the sloped face of a large, moss-covered rock
hastened her descent. Holding the pan aloft as she fell backward, her body
tilted sideways and she overcorrected—
Sending the beans spilling down her shirt and into
the creek.
For a moment she sat still, the chill of the icy
mountain runoff failing to cool her blood as gales of boyish laughter drifted
toward her from the bank. She erupted from the creek, wielding her now-empty
pan above her head. “Morgan Channing, I’m gonna have your hide for this!”
She sloshed three full steps to the edge of the
creek before she froze.
The eleven-year-old had stopped laughing and was
staring at her, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. “Y-you…! Y-you’re a…a…”
Eli followed his gaze to her chest, where a few
beans still clung to her drenched, oversized shirt. She dropped the pan and covered
herself. Oh, how brainless of her! Would Pa send her away?
