“I’ll Pay You Back When I Grow Up,” Girl Told Mountain Man — 15 Years Later, He Remembered
Chapter 2
Theme:
Font Size:
24px
For three days, the storm raged outside. For three days, Gideon sat by the fire, feeding the girl broth made from dried elk meat, watching the color slowly return to her face. She didn't speak; she just watched him. She watched him clean his rifle, stretch his pelts, and chop wood.On the fourth day, the sky cleared, revealing a piercing, blinding blue."What's your name?" Gideon asked, setting a tin plate of beans on the table."Clara," she said. Her voice was hoarse, like dried leaves scraping on stone."You got kin, Clara?""Aunt Martha. In St. Louis."Gideon nodded slowly. St. Louis was a thousand miles away, a different universe.The next morning, Gideon loaded his sled, not just with provisions, but with his entire winter catch: beaver, fox, prime wolf pelts—a small fortune in thick, cured fur. It was enough money to buy land, or a new rifle, or enough whiskey to drown a horse. It was six months of freezing, bleeding, and breaking his back in the wilderness.He tied the sled to his horse and sat Clara on top of the furs. They rode down the mountain to Ridge Creek, a mud-soaked boomtown that smelled of sulfur, unwashed bodies, and wet sawdust.Gideon didn't stop at the saloon; he walked straight to the stagecoach office. A wealthy merchant couple, the Hales, were stranded at the station, waiting for the passes to clear so they could return east. They were well-dressed, impatient, and practically shivering out of their expensive wool coats.Gideon walked up to the ticket master, slamming a massive bundle of prime pelts onto the wooden counter. The heavy thud made the clerk jump."Two tickets to St. Louis," Gideon said, his voice a low rumble. "And a stipend." He turned to the Hales. "You're going east. You're taking the girl. Deliver her to Martha Miller in St. Louis. These furs will pay for her passage, your trouble, and her keep along the way. You ensure she eats well. You ensure she stays warm. If I ever hear you didn't, I'll track you down and skin you both."He didn't raise his voice, but the absolute lack of emotion in his eyes made the merchant swallow hard and nod frantically.Gideon walked out onto the muddy boardwalk. Clara followed him. The stagecoach was being hitched."Get in the coach, kid," Gideon said, not looking at her. He was already untying his horse from the post.Clara stood in the freezing mud, wearing a coat that was three sizes too big, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She looked at his broad back, at the worn leather of his coat, at the hunting knife strapped to his thigh."I have nothing to give you," she said."Didn't ask for nothing." Gideon swung up into the saddle.