Chapter 3
Silas's gaze remained on Matilda.
“No. I remember.”
“Remember what?” Matilda asked.
Silas opened his mouth.
Abigail knocked his cup from the table.
“Enough!”
The tin cup clattered across the floor.
Jedodiah stepped between them.
“Let him speak.”
But Silas suddenly seemed frightened.
Not of Jedodiah.
Of Abigail.
He lowered his eyes.
“Nothing.”
Jedodiah studied him for several seconds.
Then he turned to Matilda.
“You got belongings?”
She almost laughed.
Everything she owned fit inside one canvas sack.
“Yes.”
“Get them.”
Abigail folded her arms.
“She leaves now, she gets nothing.”
Matilda stopped.
“My wages?”
“You forfeited them.”
“You owe me for two months.”
“I owe you nothing.”
Matilda's eyes filled.
Six dollars.
To Abigail, almost nothing.
To Matilda, everything.
She had been saving every coin she could for passage east.
She had dreamed of leaving Leadville when spring came.
Starting somewhere nobody knew her.
Somewhere she wasn't “Big Matilda.”
Jedodiah reached into his coat again.
He counted six silver dollars onto Abigail's table.
“There.”
Abigail stared at them.
“What is that?”
“Her wages.”
“I didn't ask you—”
“No.”
His voice became dangerously quiet.
“You didn't.”
He looked at Matilda.
“Get your things.”
Ten minutes later, Matilda stood at the doorway holding a canvas sack.
The bearskin coat covered her from shoulders to ankles.
Jedodiah tied a rope around his waist, then looped the other end around hers.
Matilda stared at it.
“What's this?”
“If you fall, I find you.”
“And if you fall?”
A faint expression touched his face.
“Then we're both in trouble.”
It was almost a joke.
Matilda realized, astonishingly, that she wanted to smile.
Then the door opened.
The mountain swallowed them.
The cold hit like a hammer.
Matilda had lived through Colorado winters, but she had never felt anything like this.
The wind stole her breath instantly.
Snow erased the world beyond ten feet.
Jedodiah moved ahead, enormous shoulders bent against the gale.
“Step where I step!” he shouted.
Matilda obeyed.
The first mile nearly killed her.
Snow reached her knees.
Her lungs burned.
Her aching joints screamed with every step.
Several times she stumbled.
Each time the rope tightened and Jedodiah pulled her upright.
After what felt like hours, Matilda collapsed against a pine tree.
“I can't.”
Jedodiah stopped.
“You can.”
“No.”
“You've been standing fourteen hours a day in that kitchen.”
Matilda looked up sharply.
“How did you know?”
“I saw your ankles.”