Yellowstone Memories by Jennifer Rogers Spinola Read Free Book Online Page A

crossly.
    Her gaze probed him with gentle curiosity before turning to the Bible before her. “ ‘Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen,’ ” Jewel read aloud over Hiram’s snores, her words clear and beautifully strong. “ ‘Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear.’ ”
    “Does that make sense to you?” Wyatt stifled a yawn.
    “Not really.” Jewel blinked at the lines of type, following them with her finger. “Do you have faith, Mr. Kelly?”
    “In what?”
    “In God. In the truth of the Bible.”
    “I … I don’t know.” Wyatt squirmed uncomfortably. “Faith in anything seems a little impossible to me. Although I’m always interested in the truth.”
    “I know you are.”
    “You … what?” Wyatt scratched his red hair uncomfortably.
    “I can tell you’re a man who seeks the truth.” Jewel leaned back and regarded him coolly. “Of course, I could be mistaken. But people do say you keep your word.”
    Wyatt lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not sure anybody around here has a good word to say about me.”
    “You’re quite mistaken, Mr. Kelly.” Jewel leaned forward boldly. “You want to hear truth? You could do so much more with yourself if you stopped trying to be someone you’re not.”
    “Pardon?” Wyatt’s jaw slipped.
    “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders and your own good gifts and strengths. You don’t need your uncle’s approval or anyone else’s.”
    Wyatt stared, sputtering for words. “How dare you speak that way about my uncle,” he managed, his heart beating fast in his chest. “He’s your superior. Your boss. He hired you.”
    “I never said not to respect your uncle.” Jewel raised her voice slightly. “He’s a good man, Mr. Kelly, and he deserves your respect—and mine. He’s raised you and looked after you his whole life. But he doesn’t own your future, and you certainly owe it to yourself to discover what you can really accomplish if you stop comparing yourself to someone else.”
    “Are you crazy?” Wyatt bristled. “I don’t compare myself to anybody!”
    “Yes you do. All the time.”
    “Who?” He scooted his chair forward, making an ugly rasping sound. Uncle Hiram stirred, his snores sputtering.
    Jewel folded her hands and glanced up at the faded tintype photograph of Amos Kelly on the mantel. “You know who,” she whispered.
    Wyatt abruptly got up from the table and fidgeted with something on the shelf, trying to straighten the plates with quivery hands until he knocked them together. When he sat down again, he polished his glasses a long time without speaking and then growled, “You sure do speak your mind,” and stuck his glasses on his face at a twisted angle.
    “So should you.”
    “You’re wrong about all of it, you know that?” Heat climbed Wyatt’s neck. “Completely wrong.”
    “No I’m not.”
    “That’s enough!” Wyatt shut the Bible and pushed it to the side of the table, his fingertips shaking with anger. “Look. If you want to talk about the gold, then talk. Otherwise we’re done here tonight. Got it?”
    “Fine.” Jewel met his eyes without flinching. “Go ahead. You start.”
    Wyatt shuffled his feet irritably under the table, glancing over at Uncle Hiram’s sleeping figure. “All right then. What do you think of the contents of the box?” He dropped his voice to a near whisper. “Do you think Crazy Pierre really buried it, or did someone else take what he’d originally left and replace it with something else?”
    “You said you saw him bury it.”
    “I did, but that was years ago. Somebody might have dug it up since then.” Wyatt rubbed his forehead with his fist, letting his temper cool down. And keeping his father’s photograph out of his line of vision. “If it was Pierre, what was he thinking leaving nothing in that box but a rusted old set of