By the time they reached Black Spur, it pushed hard enough against the canvas covers to make them crack like whips. The road climbed along the side of a gray ridge. To the left, rock rose above them. To the right, the ground fell away into a long pine-filled slope. They moved slowly.
Halfway up, Eliza heard it. Not a crack, a knock. Once, then again. She pulled the res. Stop!
The rear wagon settled. Eliza jumped down. Caleb came back from the lead team. What now? She knelt beside the wheel.
Blue chalk still marked the hub from Red Mesa. She pressed her thumb against the wood. A thin split had opened beside the reinforcement. Caleb saw it. How bad?
Bad enough. Bad enough. Can we brace it? Not with this weight. Caleb looked toward the pass.
The other drivers had gathered behind him. How long to rebuild with a fresh hub and a full shop? Half a day. We have neither. No.
One driver spat into the dust. Then we turned back. Eliza stood. No. Everyone looked at her.
She pointed toward the first three wagons. Copper Basin needs the medicine and flour more than it needs every tool crate at the same hour. Caleb understood first. Redistribute. Yes.
We send three wagons ahead. Yes. And this one? We lighten it. Repair what we can.
Bring the rest through. After. Caleb looked at the cracked hub. With who? You and me.
Molly stepped closer to Eliza. Caleb immediately shook his head. No, you take Molly with the forward wagons. Eliza looked toward Tom Vale, one of the remaining drivers. His wife, Clara, had been riding beside him since Red Mesa, traveling to join family in Copper Basin.
Eliza had watched Clara share food with Molly at both camps without fussing over her. She crouched in front of her daughter. Molly, the child already knew. I go with Mrs. Veil for one day.
Molly looked at the broken wheel. You coming after? Yes, you promise. Eliza put both hands around hers. I promise.
Molly swallowed and nodded. Clara Vale came forward. She'll stay beside me. I know. Eliza kissed Molly's forehead and stood before she could change her mind.
Within an hour, the three lighter wagons were moving toward the pass. Molly sat beside Clara and looked backward until the road curved. Then she disappeared. The silence afterward felt larger than the mountain. Caleb began unloading the damaged wagon.
Eliza opened her tool chest. How much time? He looked at the sun. If the first wagons arrive tonight, the contract stays open until tomorrow afternoon for the final load. Eliza pulled out her blue chalk and drew a new line across the cracked hub.
Then we'd better make this wheel believe it has one more day in it. Caleb set down the first crate beside her. Beyond them, Black Spur climbed into the cold wind. They had until tomorrow afternoon to bring the last wagon through. The broken wheel came off just afternoon.
Eliza set it flat on the hard ground while Caleb rolled the last tool crate away from the wagon. The crack had opened farther, not enough to ruin the hub completely, enough to punish a careless repair. Caleb crouched beside her. What do you need? Short length of dry hardwood, two wedges, the narrow iron strap.
He brought them without another question. Eliza worked slowly. That was the hardest part. The sun was moving west. Molly was already somewhere beyond Black Spur.
The first three wagons were carrying nearly everything Copper Basin had ordered. Still, rushing the repair would only move the failure farther down the road. Eliza trimmed the damaged section until the split stopped traveling. She fitted the hardwood brace tightly against it, drove the wedges, then wrapped the iron strap around the weakened portion. Caleb held the wheel steady.
Will it hold? It will hold less weight. How much less? Enough that we leave half these tool crates here. Caleb looked at the cargo stacked beside the road.
They're part of the contract. So is arriving. He considered that. What can the other wagons take if we catch them? Nothing.
They're balanced now. Caleb rubbed dust from his forehead. Then we leave the heaviest crates, reach copper basin, unload, and come back. If they give us time, they will if the final wagon crosses before the cutoff. Eliza looked at him.
You sure? No. Good. Caleb raised an eyebrow. Good.
I trust men more when they admit what they don't know. He gave a tired laugh. They remounted the wheel. Eliza marked the repaired hub with a thick blue line, then drew another line higher on the wagon board. Load stays below that.
Together, they lifted the remaining freight back aboard. By the time they finished, the wagon carried only the lighter tool cases, lamp oil, and several sacks that had not fit safely on the forward wagons. Caleb tightened the last rope. Then his hand stopped. He looked toward Eliza.
What do you see? She walked around the wagon once, checked the wheel, checked the axle, checked the cargo. Something that might make it that encouraging. It is from me. They harnessed the team.
The first mile climbed slowly. Eliza walked beside the damaged wheel, listening. Wood groaned. Iron rang against stone. The repair held near the top of Black Spur.
The wind strengthened. Caleb moved beside the team while Eliza kept one hand on the wagon rail. Neither spoke unless necessary. Left stone. I see it.
Easy on the turn. Got it. The road leveled near sunset. From the ridge, they could see copper basin below. Smoke rose from chimneys packed tightly along the valley floor.
Eliza stopped. Caleb followed her gaze. You ever been there? No. Pretty from here.
Everything is pretty before you owe it money. Caleb looked at her. She almost smiled. Then the wagon wheel knocked once. Both of them turned.
Eliza crouched beside it. The brace remained tight. Keep moving. They reached the first buildings after dark. A man carrying a lantern stepped into the road.
Rowan freight. Caleb nodded. Three of your wagons got here hours ago. We brought the rest. The man lifted the lantern toward the damaged wheel.
Barely. Barely still counts. Eliza climbed down. The man introduced himself as Amos Bell, one of the Copper Basin merchants who had signed the delivery agreement. He checked the cargo list against what had already arrived.
Then he checked the final wagon. Tool crates missing left above black spur. Caleb said, "We'll retrieve them after unloading. " Belle looked toward the town clock mounted over the assay office, then back at Caleb. Contract says complete shipment by tomorrow afternoon. Caleb nodded.
We know. Then unload this and go get them. Eliza was already pulling off her gloves. They slept three hours. Before sunrise, they took an empty wagon back toward the pass.
With no heavy load, the climb was faster. The abandoned crates were exactly where they had left them. By late morning, the final tools rolled into Copper Basin. Amos Bell checked the list one last time. Then he drew a line through the outstanding items.
Complete. Caleb said nothing. Belle looked toward Eliza. You the wheelright. She glanced at the blue marks on the damaged wagon.
Yes. Belle nodded. Thought so. He handed Caleb the signed delivery receipt. You kept us waiting.
Caleb took it. But but you delivered. By the time they left Copper Basin 2 days later, Caleb carried three new written requests for freight work. None came through. Martin Rusk.
One merchant wanted a monthly supply run. Another needed machinery hauled before summer. Amos Bell wanted rowan freight for the next medicine shipment. Eliza read the requests twice. So Rusk loses.
Caleb shook his head. Rusk keeps his company. He doesn't get yours. No, that was enough. When they returned to Red Mesa, Martin Rusk was standing near the freightyard gate.
He looked at the four wagons, then at Caleb. Heard Copper Basin paid. They did. Heard they're contracting direct now. Caleb nodded.
Rusk tapped two fingers against the fence rail. You got lucky. Eliza stepped down from the repair wagon. No. Rusk looked at her.
She pointed toward the blue marked wheels. We got ready. Rusk studied her for a moment, then Caleb. He said nothing more. He walked away.
3 weeks later, Caleb found Eliza at the workbench fitting a new spoke. Molly sat nearby painting numbers onto toolboxes. Caleb placed a folded sheet of paper beside Eliza's hammer. She opened it. It was not a marriage proposal.
It was a partnership agreement. Half ownership of the repair operation. Shared authority over loading and maintenance. A percentage of every freight contract. Eliza read the last line.
Rowan freight to become ward and Rowan freight upon acceptance. She looked at him. You wrote this before asking anything else. Yes. Why?
Because the business offer stands whether you ever marry me, court me, tolerate me, or throw a hammer at me. Molly looked up. Mama doesn't throw hammers. Eliza folded the paper. Not usually.
Caleb waited. I accept. He let out a slow breath. Then Eliza pointed at him. That was the business question.
I know. You have another. I do. Ask it. Caleb removed his hat.
Eliza Ward, would you let me court you properly? She looked at him for a long moment, then toward Molly. Molly was watching both of them with paint on her nose. Eliza turned back. Yes.
Months later, spring light filled the Red Mesa yard while a newly repaired wagon stood outside the shop. Molly balanced on an overturned crate with a paintbrush. Across the wagon side, fresh letters appeared one careful stroke at a time. Ward and Rowan freight. Eliza held one end of the signboard steady.
Caleb held the other. Molly leaned back to inspect her work. Their hands met beneath the fresh lettering. Neither moved away.