Black Wolf crouched nearby, overseeing the sorting of heavier stones, his expression focused yet calm. Even Brigg had been persuaded to join for a few hours each day.
Anthony’s chest lifted with a rare, unguarded sense of satisfaction. The claim was more than a source of wealth. It wasa symbol of everything he had fought for. Revenge for his family had driven him through fire and blood, through Vanburgh’s men and Muldoon’s corruption.
Now, the land was respected, and justice had been served.
Abigail stepped closer, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “We can finally start thinking about more than just survival and justice,” she said softly. “We can build...for life, not just for defense.”
Anthony allowed himself a small, rare smile. “I thought I’d never hear you say that. Surviving was the easy part. Living...that takes work.”
She laughed lightly, a sound that carried on the warm wind. “Then it’s a good thing we’re married to someone stubborn enough to handle both.”
He glanced down at the pans, watching the gold dust settle in the shallow troughs. “It’s enough,” he said. “Enough to keep us safe, enough to honor the land, enough to give the Shoshone a solid start.”
Abigail’s gaze softened as she looked out over the valley. “You’ve come a long way from the man who rode into Silver Cross covered in blood and dust.”
“I had to,” he said. “For them. For my family. For all of it.”
The sun rose higher, casting a warm light over the valley. Men and women moved along the sluices, and children darted between them. The occasional laugh or shout was carried on the breeze.
Anthony let his gaze sweep across the horizon, noting the small cabins the Shoshone had built, the carefully maintained trails winding through the hills, and the cleared land that would become orchards and gardens in time.
“Come on,” Abigail said, tugging at his arm gently. “We’ve been watching too long. Let’s see what Brigg’s getting into.”
Anthony followed her down the slope, the scent of dust and wet earth heavy in the air.
Brigg sat on a low rock near the main sluice, one hand resting on his thigh and the other waving a pan of freshly sorted gold toward them. “Look at this,” he said, grinning despite the tightness of his injury. “Just a bit of work, and you’ve got a fortune waiting to be split. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of keeping it all for yourself, Hawk.”
Anthony raised a brow, glancing at Abigail, who shrugged with a grin. “He might try,” she said.
“Try?” Anthony repeated, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “I’d rather fight Vanburgh’s men again than argue with you over a few flecks of gold.”
Brigg laughed. “Fair enough. Guess we’ll split it the way we always said...half for you, half for Abigail, and the Shoshone get their fair share. Everyone wins.”
“Agreed,” he replied. “Everyone wins. That’s the way it should be.”
Anthony and Abigail lingered a moment longer as the sunlight danced off the sluices and the scattered pans of gold. The valley hummed with life and promise. Anthony inhaled the warm, dry air, letting the scent of sage and earth settle in his lungs.
“Time to check on our own little project,” he said at last, nodding toward the small cabin they had built at the edge of the basin.
The structure was modest. The wood planks were carefully joined, and there was a small stone hearth in the middle. A porch caught the morning sun. It wasn’t much, but it was theirs.
Every nail and beam carried the memory of their labor, and every corner held the promise of years yet to come.
Abigail brushed dust from her apron, her fingers lingering for a moment on the railing of the porch. “I swear, Hawk, I never thought I’d see the day when I could actually think about life beyond survival.” She smiled.
Anthony offered a faint grin, his gaze lingering on the distant hills. “Neither did I. But it’s happening. Slowly and surely.”
As they reached the small dwelling, Anthony paused and glanced back over the valley. In the distance, he could see the beginnings of more substantial change.
The railroad had been forced to reroute around Eagle Rock to protect the sacred springs and maintain the integrity of the claim. This rerouting had inadvertently opened new opportunities for Silver Cross.
With better access to transport and trade, the town’s economy began to swell. The clinic, which had long stood in ruin, was now rebuilt and bustling with patients and activity. It was a testament to Abigail’s determination and the town’s renewed hope.
“It’s good,” he said softly, mostly to himself. “Silver Cross...it’s finally going to thrive.”
Abigail rested a hand on his arm, following his gaze. “And we’re a part of it,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “We helped make this happen. All of it.”
Anthony nodded, letting the truth of her words settle. They had fought for vengeance, for justice, and for survival. Now, they were building for something enduring. The valley, the people, even the Shoshone who had returned, all had a place in this new chapter.
