with this Casey character?
* * *
Though light was fading, Clint was still in knee-high water swirling his pan when he saw what he thought was a stone at the bottom. He plucked it out, and just as he was about to toss it back in the water, he looked at it more closely. Gold! It was much larger than the nuggets he’d found earlier in the day. He knew what he was holding in his hand was of such value that it could change everything. His excitement at finding the large nugget was tempered by the uncertainty of what he would find once he returned to the ranch. Nothing could really make him happy until he knew his mother was alive. He rolled the nugget around in his hand. That one nugget meant he could help Amelia and the girls, as well as Whitt and the boys. If they didn’t want to return to La Grange, he could help them get settled somewhere else. Tucking the gold in his pocket, Clint continued to search the bottom of his pan. He couldn’t believe it when he saw several smaller nuggets, along with gold flakes covering the bottom of the pan. Before he left the creek, he decided to try his luck one last time and dipped his pan into the water. This time, he found ten small nuggets.
After he made his way back to the bank, he pulled out his bandanna and gently placed all the nuggets and flakes inside. Once he folded the cloth tightly, he stuck the bandanna in his back pocket and walked back to the camp.
* * *
Mrs. Nelson approached Clint around midnight, while he was still awake, drinking coffee and thinking about his mother. Leaning over to his ear, Mrs. Nelson whispered, “I need to speak to you.”
Glancing around at the sleeping children, Clint stood and quietly followed Mrs. Nelson away from the fire. They were just a few feet from the wagon when she turned to face him.
“Mr. Mitchum, I’m afraid Amelia is very ill.” She motioned for him to come closer to the wagon. “She asked that you stay out here while I go inside, and you can listen to our conversation.”
Clint frowned. “Why can’t I go inside and talk to her?”
Mrs. Wilson looked around, as if she was afraid someone would overhear them. “We’re afraid she may have yellow fever. She has a very high fever, has been vomiting and has a terrible headache—all symptoms of yellow fever.”
Clint pulled the lantern from the hook, pushed the flap aside and climbed inside the wagon.
Hearing the commotion, Amelia’s eyes snapped open. “Mr. Mitchum, you shouldn’t be in here! Didn’t Mrs. Nelson tell you that I may have yellow fever?”
Clint leaned over, holding the light so he could see her face. He was shocked how her appearance had deteriorated in a few short hours. She was also shivering, even though she had beads of perspiration on her face. Clint placed his palm on her forehead. Feeling how warm she was, he tried to keep his expression neutral so she couldn’t see his concern. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
The flap opened and Mrs. Nelson peeked inside. Clint held out his hand to assist her inside the wagon. Mrs. Nelson added another blanket to the stack already covering Amelia. “I fear her fever is getting worse.”
“Mr. Mitchum, I have all the symptoms. I need to get away from everyone before it gets worse. I don’t want to endanger everyone,” Amelia explained softly.
Mrs. Nelson touched Clint’s arm. “We have a plan. I’m going to speak to Tom about taking the wagon away from here, and I will care for Amelia until she’s well.”
“No, that’s not what we discussed,” Amelia responded. “I want you to return to camp with Tom. You must take care of the children in case . . .”
Clint’s gaze slid from Mrs. Nelson to Amelia. He knew what she was thinking even though she didn’t voice her worst fear.
“I’m not leaving you alone,” Mrs. Nelson stated.
Amelia smiled up at Mrs. Nelson. “You must, for the sake of the children. And we must act quickly, before others nearby find out I’m ill. They will want all of us to leave.”
Mrs. Nelson sat down beside Amelia. “You can’t care for yourself if you get worse. You, of all people, know what will happen if this takes a turn for the worse.”
Amelia was quiet for several minutes. She looked at Mrs. Nelson, her eyes pleading. “Please, I