Page 64 of The Enchanted Land

“Stop it!” Seth fell back onto the pillows. “To me … she is dead. I never want to hear her name again. We will not refer to her again, in any way.” His eyes were cold, but both Jake and Lupita could see the pain behind them. “I think I’d like to sleep now.”

“But your food! You need to eat.”

“No, Lupita, I don’t feel hungry now.”

Jake silenced Lupita’s protests with a stern look. “That’s right, boy, you just rest and get well. The food’ll be waitin’ for you when you wake up.”

Seth’s recovery was slow. He didn’t seem to mind staying in bed, and he showed no interest in anything. Jake tried to ask his opinion about what he and Paul were doing on the ranch, but Seth hardly answered him. Eventually, he began to move around the room a little, going only from the bed to the chair. He sat and stared at the walls. Lupita encouraged him to sit on the little patio by the bedroom, but he didn’t seem to care where he was.

As the pain left Seth’s body, the pain in his mind increased. He was continually reminded of Morgan.

She seemed to be everywhere. He started sleeping on the couch in the living room because he couldn’t stand the bed they had shared. One day he rode out with Jake, and it seemed she was even outside. A clump of trees recalled a time when she had brought his lunch to him and then run from him, laughing, unfastening her clothes as she went. Even the sunlight recalled her hair and skin.

The snows began and he remembered how he had planned on long snowy days of lovemaking. With Christmas coming, Lupita decorated the house with chilis and popcorn. Seth watched lethargically as Lupita, Jake, and Paul decorated the little piñon tree.

On Christmas Eve, Seth remembered the music box he had packed in Kentucky. It was to have been a Christmas present for Morgan. It had been weeks since he had been in his own bedroom, but he went now and found the box. He wound it and listened to the tune. How she would have loved the delicate carving!

“Why, Morgan, why? He couldn’t have offered you more love than I did. It isn’t possible!” Tears blurred his eyes as he brought one powerful fist down on the little box and smashed it.

He glared at the broken little box, and through clenched teeth, he swore, “If I ever find you, Morgan, I’ll kill you!” With one sweep of his arm, he knocked the remains of the box to the floor.

He left the room and announced to the others that in the spring he would leave the ranch for the California gold fields.

In March, 1850, when the snows were barely gone, Seth set out for California and the gold fields. After the heavy use of the previous year, the trail was well defined. He was only a few miles out of Santa Fe when he met the Chandlers’ wagon train.

Chapter Thirteen

ITtook the little band—the Indians, the Frenchman, and the four women captives—five weeks to reach the mountains. After a week of grueling travel, everyone’s temper was short. The nights grew cooler, and the nip of autumn was in the air. Morgan figured it was somewhere around the first week of October, 1849, and she knew now that she was not carrying Seth’s baby.

“I don’t know why I always seem to do most of the work around here.” The closer they got to San Francisco, the angrier Mary became. She took her fear and hatred out on everyone.

“What with Morgan doing all the cookin’, I don’t see how you can think you’re doing most of the work.” Jessy’s happiness and excitement were obvious.

“Please, can’t you two stop fighting?” Alice pleaded with them tearfully.

“It’s just these Indians! They’re always around. A body can’t even step into the bushes without one of them watching. I’m always ready to scream.”

Jessy looked across the camp at one of the Apache braves who returned her stare. “Indians ain’t all that bad. That Yellow Hand’s not a bad looker at all.”

“You filthy little slut! I ought to tear your hair out!”

“You and who else?”

Mary raised clawlike hands and started for Jessy’s face. Morgan quickly stepped between the two of them. “Stop it, you two! They may decide we’re not worth the trouble and kill us now.”

“Death just may be better than the life they have planned for us.” Mary’s face was twisted as she sneered at Morgan and Jessy.

Alice’s whimpering carried across the campfire.

“Oh, Lord! Is she going to start that again? That girl is afraid of her own shadow.” Jessy rolled her eyes.

Alice’s sobs increased, and Mary went to her to comfort her. “If you had any feelings, you’d realize she’s just a child.”

“Child, hell! It may interest you to know, Miss Mary-Know-Everything, that that ‘child’ and I are the same age.”

Both Mary and Morgan turned startled eyes to Jessy. There was an ageless quality about Jessy that made her seem anywhere from fourteen to fifty. Neither of them had ever considered her true age. “That’s right,” she laughed. “I just turned sixteen on my last birthday, sometime in June. My pa never could remember the exact date.” She turned and left the three staring after her.

“I’m older than her,” Alice whispered.

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