told him about his mother. “I’ll be leaving in two days for La Grange. I didn’t think you would mind having another man around.”
“I’m glad you brought them here. I know they lost one grandson to the fever, and they lost both their son and daughter-in-law a few years ago to cholera. It’s been rough on them.” Whitt offered Clint a cup of fresh coffee. “I hope you find your ma alive and well. That would be a Christmas miracle indeed.”
Whitt voiced what Clint had been thinking. Having taken his family for granted for so many years, he didn’t think he was deserving of such a miracle, but he was asking anyway. “I can’t think of a greater blessing than to see her again.”
* * *
Later that day, Clint decided to try his hand at panning. It wasn’t an occupation he would have chosen; he preferred more active work from the back of a horse. He thought about what his mother had written in her letter about coming to love the ranch again. He did love the ranch; he always had. He should have recognized that a long time ago. He’d spent too much time thinking of himself instead of doing what was best for his family. Seeing Whitt’s and Amelia’s children made him realize how fortunate he had been as a young man. These children had either lost a parent or grandparents or siblings. He’d had a family he’d taken for granted. Yes, he’d seen his share of horrors during the war, but it was nothing he could change. If the last few weeks had taught him anything, he’d learned not to waste another minute on reliving a past he couldn’t change. He felt an overwhelming need to do something for these children who were much too young to face the harsh, cold realities of life.
Walking down the bank, Clint found a peaceful spot where the stream was slowing. It was a good area for him to keep an eye on the children, who were on the bank several yards away. Bo and Boone yelled at him and waved. The boys were teaching Katie and Annie how to pan for gold at the water’s edge. Clint could hear Bo explain to the girls how to tell if they had gold in their pans. He saw Amelia join the children, and Bo and Boone gave her the same instructions they’d given the girls. Bo demonstrated how to scoop some gravel and silt into her pan.
“You have to shake it like this,” Boone told her, demonstrating by vigorously shaking his pan.
“Like this?” Amelia asked, swirling her pan.
“Yeah, that’s pretty good for a girl,” Bo replied.
Clint grinned at Bo’s comment, thinking Whitt better teach that boy how to talk to a woman or he may never get married. Clint couldn’t keep his eyes off Amelia as he continued to swirl his own pan. He wasn’t thinking about gold as he watched her. Not only was she uncommonly beautiful, she was patient with the children. Boone said something that Clint couldn’t hear, but the sound of their laughter carried along the bank. Clint smiled, thinking how nice it was to hear laughter again. He thought about Amelia saying she wanted to return home. For a brief moment as he watched her, he thought of what it would be like to have dinner with her and the children at the ranch with his mother. Like a family. He shook his head and looked down at the water he’d sloshed on his pants while he was daydreaming. He questioned his sanity, dreaming of such a thing. Amelia was probably still grieving for her husband. And what made him think she’d be interested in having dinner with him anyway?
Hearing a masculine voice, Clint glanced back toward Amelia and saw Whitt had joined them. It occurred to him that Amelia and Whitt had a lot in common. Both understood the pain of losing a spouse and having two children to raise alone. It seemed logical they would be drawn to each other.
Turning his attention to the task at hand, he picked up his spade and shoveled some river sediment into his pan. He shook the pan, swirling the contents, allowing the black sand to settle at the bottom. Tipping his pan into the water, he moved it back and forth in the slow-moving current to lift away the first layer of sediment. He repeated the process, but his thoughts drifted back to one particular woman.
“You’ve swirled that