Kiernan told Victoria as they surveyed Dutch Flat. “Looks like most of the other mining towns we’ve lived in or around,” Victoria replied. He stopped and looked at his young wife. She had once worn beautiful party clothes and known a life much easier than this one. Her hands, now callused and scarred from heavy work, were once smooth and soft. He hated knowing that he had taken her from that life. That he alone had been responsible for bringing her west and losing her fortune. He had only been able to see the possibility of being his own man, of earning enough to bring his family from Ireland to America, and of supporting the woman he loved without using her inheritance to see them through. He felt a deep, abiding sorrow that she suffered for his choices. He knew what it was to live his life in a tent. He knew what it was to go hungry. But she didn’t, and she shouldn’t have had to know. He had taken her away from security and plunged her into the heart of all that threatened to destroy them.
