"You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give."
....Kahlil Gibran, "The Prophet"
"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye."
...Saint-Exupery, "The Little Prince"
The soft golden glow of the Sunday dawn slowly spread among the trees of Bridal Veil Mountain, then flowed down to the rooftops of Seattle like a timid smile awakening to the discovery of joy. Jason Bolt was watching it as he stood on the front porch of his town cabin, holding a cup of coffee and breathing in the cool, crisp aroma of evergreen wet from the night's rains.
Joshua and Jeremy had left the day before to oversee the delivery of timber to the San Francisco shipyards where Silas Harmon's dream, The Golden West, was being constructed. Jason smiled at the thought of his brothers. He loved them and missed them, but at the same time was enjoying a rare period of peace and quiet. A long hard job was finally over, he had the cabin to himself, and Lottie's meals were much more edible than the boys'. Perhaps he would relax today with a good book—or, maybe take a picnic lunch and hike up to Lake Washington.
He watched as Aaron Stempel's front room window lit up. Jason smiled. Stempel was an early riser like himself. Never lost a minute of the day in case of missing an opportunity. Work, work, work, with no time off to relax or have fun. Did he even know how to have fun?, Jason wondered. What did he do at night—all alone? Did he also enjoy reading? Did he dream about the future as Jason did, planning great things? Yeah—probably dreamt of castles in the air—all filled with treasure!
Aaron's only relative, his sister Julie, lived in the East. He had no one like Joshua and Jeremy with whom he could have family talks or the pleasure of sharing work tasks and activities with friends. He spent all day in the saw mill over ledgers and machinery, then went home by himself to a richly furnished house—the largest in Seattle. As long as Jason had known him, he had been an inflexible, stubborn, self-righteous person. Life was controlled by his rules, with no room for compromise; he had almost a death-grip on it as if he were insecure or frightened about losing it. That was a laugh! Stempel insecure? Stempel lonely? Rather arrogant self-isolation—very seldom choosing to join in town dances or picnics as if he were "above" such "peasant" enjoyments. He never was deliberately rude, but you got the feeling that any overtures of friendship would be received with a quick excuse of another appointment. No, Aaron Stempel was perfectly capable of taking care of himself without any help.
The tranquillity of the morning was shattered suddenly as Ben Perkins came running across the main street from his general store, waving a piece of paper.
"Jason...Jason," he panted. " A message just came from Olympia. Richard Windom's broken out of jail! He said at his trial that when he got out, he would come looking for you to get even!"
Richard Windom had been the leader of a group of trappers a few years ago who had resented the Bolts' control of Bridal Veil Mountain and the surrounding forests which restricted their hunting activities. Fights had broken out between the trappers and Jason's men which caused severe damage to the logging equipment through sabotage, and ended with several casualties—one a serious knife wound to a young logger which laid him up for several weeks. Windom and the others had been tried and found guilty of damage to property, trespass, assault and battery, and attempted murder. As the leader, Windom received the harshest sentence—ten years in the territorial prison. He had served two so far, but had now found a way to escape. Jason had no doubts that he would try to fulfill his promise to kill him. He must find Windom before Windom found him.
Aaron Stempel came out of his front door as Ben was animatedly talking to Jason. What on earth is going on over there?, he wondered. He noticed the telegraph paper in Jason's hand and his worried expression. His kid brothers haven't been gone a day—could they already be in trouble? Stempel told himself he really didn't care—a nice hot breakfast was waiting for him over at Lottie's—but he found himself walking in the direction of Bolt's cabin.
"Is anything the matter?", he asked.
"Sorry, Aaron, the code of the telegrapher...", Ben began but stopped as Jason, measuring Stempel up and down, silently handed over the message, then turned to Ben. "Can you get me a horse from the livery stable while I pack a few things?"
Aaron, inwardly beginning to regret the upcoming loss of his breakfast, interrupted him before he could go, with, "Better make it two."
As Jason and Ben both did a double take of astonishment, Stempel shrugged. "I just need some fresh air."
"You're not going anywhere, Bolt...at least, not on this earth."
He raised his rifle, grinning. Jason took a deep breath and raised his eyes above Windom's head to where the morning sun was sending golden beams through the forest canopy. The fragrant smell of wet pine floated on the air. He thought of Joshua and Jeremy. Boy, was he proud of them. In the last few years they had developed from boys to young men, confident, brave and true. He had faith that after the grieving they would suffer with his death, they would be able to carry on—their families growing with Seattle, and working, as he had, to lead the way for a great future.
A loud sharp noise roared in his ears as he closed his eyes, then opened them suddenly as Windom's body fell at his side. Looking up, he saw Aaron Stempel, disheveled and grim, a smoking pistol in his hand.
Jason sighed with relief. "Thanks a lot, Aaron."
Stempel's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "Don't thank me yet, Bolt...I'm not sure if I hit the right one."
Jason began to develop a headache both from the leg pain and mental analysis. He was grateful when Lottie's saloon came into view and Aaron steered the horses over to the hitching post.
Captain Clancey, loading supplies onto his boat...uh, ship...noticed the blood-stained wrap on Jason's leg and ran over to help. "What's yuh done to yourself, bucko?", he asked.
"Just ran into a bit of trouble on the trail," he replied, but we (looking at Aaron)...handled it."
Jason winced as Aaron and Clancey helped him off his horse and carried him over to Lottie's. As they settled him on the couch in the back room, she came in with a large glass of water which he accepted gratefully.
Clancey winked at her slyly. "If you're going to give Jason a drink, would you mind giving me a wee drop of medicinal brandy? I get faint at the sight of blood."
"I'll make you faint, you old fishface!", she retorted, but poured a little for him. "Jason, I've mixed a little laudanum in yours. Get it down while I go find the medical supplies in the storeroom."
She left for a few minutes, then returned carrying a large roll of linen gauze, a basin of soap and water, and a bottle of whiskey to use for antiseptic fluid. "Now, Aaron, after I clean off the dirt and blood, I want you to hold his foot straight as I wrap it."
As she worked, Jason gritted his teeth but, glancing up at Stempel, wouldn't give in to openly showing his pain. It was enough, after all, to have to be practically carried by the man! The next thing you know, he would actually start to feel some affection for him.
As he held Bolt's foot to align the bones, Aaron was stealing glances at Jason's face, assessing his endurance and physical condition. What was keeping him so calm? What was it about the man that he couldn't understand? When Jason came into a crowded room, a hundred smiles lit up. When Stempel came in, they acted as if he were a tax collector or a foreclosing landlord. Well...sometimes he was....but, after all, he was a businessman. He had to keep an eye on profits in order to succeed in life. Prudent and cautious investments were his focus. Not Jason's way of optimistic brashness—rashness was what it was! Go ahead no matter what. Always risk all to get the prize. The fool had even bet his mountain—his and his brothers' home, method of livelihood and security—in order to bring the brides to Seattle.
A crazy dream...but, he had done it!
Aaron couldn't consciously conceive of any goal for which he would risk his house, his money, and his business—it was too much to ask someone to lose. What was the secret of those darned loggers? "With the mountain or without, we're still Bolts." And this attitude that they had about "Greater love hath no man..." and "love they neighbor as thyself." Love and friendship were okay for some people, but not often economical.
And then, Aaron had caught up with Jason at the end for the chase and saw his face as Windom was preparing to shoot. Did it show one of his usual expressions of defiant bravado or that cocky, smug confidence which so often had irritated Stempel? No. The face was calm and at peace—as if Bolt had risen above earthly fears and found a foundation in something higher—something good and right in a troubled world. Even with the impeding loss of his own life and the conscious knowledge of what his friends and family would suffer, Jason Bolt was, up to his last moment, holding fate's cards as a winning hand.
Stempel's soul was touched by the first faint strokes of insight that he did like this man. He was proud to have him as a friend (probably his closest one at that, to think of it!), and, by God, he wasn't going to lose him now! After all, who else would he have to argue with? He had slowly pulled the pistol out of his coat pocket and taken careful aim.
