“I’ll Pay You Back When I Grow Up,” Girl Told Mountain Man — 15 Years Later, He Remembered
Chapter 5
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She found the local assayer's office. The man behind the wire cage was balding and sweating heavily."I'm looking for a man named Gideon Hayes," Clara said.The assayer paused, his eyes darting to her face. "Hayes? The mountain man? Lady, you don't want to go looking for him. He's crazy. Lives up on the high ridge. The timber company had a shootout with him a week ago. Word is he took a bad hit. He's likely dead. Rotting in his own cabin."Clara's heart seized, a cold spike of panic piercing her chest. But she didn't let it show on her face. "Which trail leads to the high ridge?""The old hunter's path north of the mill. But I'm telling you, it's suicide. The company men are watching the trail. They're just waiting for him to bleed out before they go up and claim the land.""Thank you," Clara said crisply.She walked to the livery stable, rented a stubborn, sure-footed mule, and bought a repeating rifle. She loaded it right there in the stable, the metallic clack-clack of the action echoing in the quiet barn. The stable boy swallowed hard and stepped back.The ride up the mountain was treacherous. The lower slopes were stripped bare—a graveyard of stumps. But as she climbed higher, the trees closed in. The air grew thinner, biting with the promise of early snow. The silence returned, heavy and oppressive.It took her four hours to find the cabin. It sat in a clearing backed against a sheer rock wall. The door was thick oak, reinforced with iron bands; it was splintered in three places by bullet holes.Clara dismounted. She tied the mule to a pine branch out of the line of sight. She took her medical bag and her rifle, stepping carefully over the frozen ground. She saw the dark stains of dried blood on the rocks leading to the porch."Mr. Hayes!" Clara called out. Her voice echoed off the rock wall. Nothing.She stepped onto the porch. The floorboards creaked. "Mr. Hayes! My name is Clara Miller. I am unarmed," she lied, setting the rifle down softly on the porch, but keeping her hand near the revolver hidden in her coat pocket.She pushed the door; it was barred from the inside."Go away," a voice rasped from within. It sounded like two stones grinding together—weak, but venomous. "You step through that window, I'll blow you in half.""I am not with the timber company!" Clara shouted through the wood. "I'm a doctor. And you are bleeding to death."A harsh, wet cough echoed from the cabin. "Don't need a doctor. Need to be left alone."Clara felt a sudden, fierce anger flare up inside her. He was exactly as stubborn as she remembered."Gideon Hayes, open this door right now!" she barked, slapping the flat of her hand against the heavy oak. "15 years ago, you traded your entire livelihood to send an eight-year-old girl to St. Louis. I told you I would pay you back. I have traveled 2,000 miles through coal dust and mud to do it. You will not die today just to spite me!"