by Pam Crooks
He couldn’t fail Eleanora.
He rolled his shoulders. No sense in putting the cart before the horse, though, and Reed wouldn’t know how the attorney and Utah Territory Supreme Court judge would react if he kept standing here ruminating about it. He turned the knob and went in.
One look at the cramped and ill-furnished office, and Reed almost winced. A man of Cornelius Vaile’s caliber meant he’d be accustomed to finer accommodations. Made Reed glad he dressed in his good suit, at least, and not the Levi’s and cotton shirt he’d been wearing lately.
But the distinguished-looking justice apparently thought his office space was acceptable and perfectly workable, given the piles of papers arranged neatly on the desk top and his friendly disposition. Reed extended his hand. “Reed Shannon, Judge Vaile.”
The man’s clasp was strong. “Call me Owen. Please sit.”
Reed complied, laying his precious papers on his lap. “I appreciate you traveling all the way from Salt Lake City to meet with me.”
“I had an obligation to come and am happy to, besides. Hester keeps me busy with all the work she’s hired me to do.”
“Deciding the rights to the Arrastra Mine and Angel Springs is a big undertaking,” Reed said, nodding his understanding.
“Mortimer Crane claims both are his, which, as you know, is common knowledge around here. We’re not discussing anything confidential.”
Reed smirked. “If there’s money to be made from it, he’ll try to take it any way he can.”
“The evidence points to that, I’m afraid. I’ve done enough studying on him and spoken to enough people to be quite aware of his reputation for greed and illicit dealings. He’s a man of immoral character who forced his miners to work in deplorable, unsafe conditions at the Gold King Mine which resulted in their deaths. That’s a fact, and it’s reprehensible.” He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands over his belly. “We’re singing the same song, Reed. I’ve read the newspaper articles and the wires you’ve sent me regarding your investigation. I don’t need any more convincing.”
Reed laid his papers on the desk, a representation of untold hours of work and nail-biting hopes of success. But he took encouragement from the judge’s words. “I’ve drafted a settlement agreement. Considering the allegations against Crane of his continuous unfair labor practices, and given his history, I believe my proposal is fair.”
“I’ll review the agreement, but I don’t suspect I’ll find any surprises.”
“You won’t.”
“What do you propose?”
“Cash settlement to the widows. One hundred dollars each. Forty-seven widows in all. I’ve included their names in the proposal.”
The judge appeared thoughtful. “It’s your duty as an attorney for the Miners Association to bring action against mine owners. You don’t represent family members.”
“No, sir. But by agreeing to the settlement, Crane can avoid a lengthy trial with the Association that could cost him a small fortune.”
“Of which, I’m sure he’s quite aware.”
Reed nodded. “Quite.”
“You’ve spoken to the man?”
“I have. He threatened to hire lawyers and fight any action I bring against him.”
Owen inclined his head, as if he expected as much. “Go on.”
Reed slid his papers toward the justice. “I’d like to proceed with the proposed agreement, if possible, sir. As a first resort for the widows. They deserve a swift resolution after all they’ve suffered.”
“Settling out of court is, indeed, preferred.” The judge took Reed’s documents into his hand. “Crane would be a fool not to agree, but if he refuses your offer, I’d be happy to hear the case when it goes to trial.”
Vaile fell silent, then, while he read over the proposal. Took every bit of Reed’s willpower not to fidget in his chair. Time dragged on while his mind entertained all sorts of ways for the judge to find fault with his efforts.
Until Vaile ended his reading, nodded and reached for a dip pen. “Excellent writing, Reed. Let’s proceed. I’ll sign the proposal now. I see no reason to delay it.”
Reed drew in a slow breath of relief. If he could have jumped up and yelped his joy right then and there, he would have, but decorum and good manners limited him to a very broad, very satisfied grin instead. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that, sir.”
“I’ll give you a copy.” He handed over a sheet of paper, his signature still glistening with ink, then signed a second. “I’ll have Marshal Wentz deliver this one to Crane immediately. She’ll know where to find him.” He returned the pen to its inkwell. “Anything else?”
“There is one thing.” Reed leaned forward. “Let’s keep the settlement offer confidential. I don’t want to get the widows’ hopes up if Crane refuses to sign and the deal falls through.”
“Which he likely will, and it wouldn’t do to disappoint them, I agree.” He stood. “The matter will be between us until we know for sure what he decides.”
After ensuring the ink had dried, Reed carefully folded the paper, slipped it into an inside pocket of his suit coat and stood, too. They shook hands, and after a brief pleasantry, the judge sat in his chair and resumed work.
Reed pulled the office door closed, maneuvered his way around Hester’s sewing machine and fabric and left without telling her good-bye, all the while wondering how he would ever keep from telling Eleanora what he’d accomplished.
Or if, in the end, he’d have to tell her he failed.
Chapter 15
After Reed left Judge Vaile’s office, he picked up a horse from the livery and rode out to Eleanora’s cabin without stopping at the hotel to tell her where he’d be. He had to inform Cuddy of his news. Except for the widows, there was no one else in Wildcat Ridge who’d welcome the information more.
They’d become fast friends since Cuddy pointed his shotgun at him several weeks ago. Two men couldn’t be more different, but being opposite made for plenty of opinion-sharing. An unexpected kinship built, too, based on mutual respect for each other’s skills and experiences. What Cuddy didn’t know about life beyond the Uinta Mountains, he learned from Reed. What Reed didn’t know about mining, carpentry and Utah wildlife, he learned from Cuddy.
The one constant they never failed to agree upon, however, was Eleanora and Tessa. Cuddy had a deep fondness for both, like a father had for his daughter and granddaughter. His worry for them after Darvin’s death consumed him. He’d do anything to ensure their safety and happiness.
Just like Reed would.
Near the top of the list was helping Reed do some serious fixing up on Eleanora’s cabin. They’d accomplished plenty on the days he was able to slip away and work with Cuddy, doing everything from clearing the yard, repairing the floor and foundation and replacing those broken windows.
None of which Eleanora knew about.
Reed loved surprises.
The thick, mowed-down grass swelled his chest with pride. The bush in front of the cabin had leafed out nice and green, too, and had sprouted a profusion of fragrant, white blossoms. Flowers bloomed in their boxes under the windows, the cabin porch sported a new wooden bench he’d made himself, and he couldn’t wait for her to see it all.
He rode toward the sound of a pounding hammer and found Cuddy working on a new corral in the back. He’d tethered his horse under a shade tree, and his jacket lay in the dirt nearby. Reed reined in and dismounted.
“Howdy,” Cuddy said, dropping the hammer to the ground and picking up a bottle of water instead, uncapping it to take a long drink.
“Corral looks good. You’re a fast worker.”
“She’s going to need a place to keep a horse or two when she comes home. Maybe a milk cow with ’em.” He sealed the bottle up again.
Cuddy didn’t need to clarify who ‘she’ was. No other woman he’d mean besides Eleanora, and no other woman they’d ever talked about besides her, either. As far as the ‘home’ part went, well, that was the whole purpose of fixi
ng up this cabin. To get her out of that damned hotel and out here in the country where she belonged.
“What brings you here?” Cuddy asked. “Wasn’t expecting you.”
“News,” Reed said.
“Tell me it’s good.”
“Could be. If Crane cooperates.”
Cuddy didn’t move. “Go on. I’m listening.”
Reed launched into a quick explanation of his meeting with Judge Vaile and the settlement offer, finishing up with the justice’s promise to have the marshal deliver the document to Crane personally.
“You mentioned you was working on something to hold over Crane. Must’ve been good for the judge to sign it.”
“Time will tell.” Reed reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew the document. “Take a look if you want. If he agrees, the award will be a big help to the widows.”
Cuddy grunted and scanned the paper. Finally, he nodded, his expression brighter. “They need this money, all right. Each one of them forty-seven widows.”
“They’ll get it, as long as Crane agrees to pay.”
Cuddy’s eye narrowed. “And what if he don’t?”
“Then that paper you hold in your hand is worthless.”
“Worthless!”
“And we’ll have to go to court. Which will be costly and lengthy, and hell, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“You think it could?”
“Easily could, yes.”
Cuddy thrust the paper back at him. Reed folded it neatly and returned it to his pocket.
“What do you think it’ll take to get Crane to agree?” Cuddy asked.
Reed rubbed his jaw. “He’s got skin like oil. Everything rolls off him.” Reed recalled the threats he’d made during their encounter at Clear Creek. The newspapers that had affected Crane like nothing else could, most of all. “Except fear.”
“Fear? Of what?”
“Riots. Activists stirring up trouble. Destruction of his property from fighting and looting.”
“Trouble, eh?”
“But since a riot isn’t likely to happen any time soon, we do nothing but wait. He’s holding all the cards right now.”
Cuddy bent, picked up the hammer and gave the ground a good kick with the toe of his boot.
Best to change the subject. Cuddy’s mood had turned dark; it wasn’t like him to look this mad, even over Mortimer Crane.
“I’ll help you finish the corral,” Reed said, tethering his mount next to Cuddy’s. “I’ll change clothes and be right out.”
He headed into the cabin to switch his wool suit for a pair of Levi’s and a shirt, the spare set of clothes he kept for times just like these.
By the time he headed back outside again, Cuddy and his horse was gone.
Darkness had long since fallen by the time Reed returned to the Crane Hotel. Turning the knob as quietly as he could, he slipped through the front door then latched and locked it behind him. Except for the light Eleanora left on in the kitchen, the lobby was dark and the rooms upstairs silent.
He’d lost track of time while he finished building the corral. Took him twice as long without Cuddy’s guidance and help, but he’d gotten it done. By then, Cuddy still hadn’t returned, and Reed’s worry wouldn’t go away. Wasn’t like his friend to take off like that, leaving Reed alone. Cuddy had been fired up to go somewhere, and that spurred Reed to have two guesses where he’d might be. Reed had a pretty good idea which was correct. The one which worried him most.
Still, he’d taken the time to ride out to Cuddy’s place, just to be sure. Took him awhile to find it, but, eventually, he did. Except Cuddy wasn’t there. Would’ve been unusual and strange if he was, so that left one guess remaining.
Reed hoped he was wrong.
He strode into the kitchen and tossed his coat and rolled-up suit onto one of the chairs. An empty belly took him to the icebox to investigate what might be inside. He pulled out a plate of sliced ham, added another of butter and found some bread. Cradling all three in the crook of his arm, he went on the hunt for a knife, found one, only to lose his grip while shutting the drawer. The fool thing dropped on the floor with a clatter and slid under the table. Teeth gritted at the racket, he eased the load from his arm onto the tabletop and hunkered down to locate the knife.
Sure enough, the door to Eleanora’s room opened, and she rushed out, belting her robe around her slender waist. Her hair flowed around her shoulders, a mass of spun gold, and seeing her like that, fresh out of bed, kept him from looking for the knife, for sure.
“Reed!” she said, her whisper a mix of surprise and relief. “Where have you been?”
“Just now? Making noise in your kitchen.”
Her mouth softened, and she lowered to her knees, too, joining him with their heads under the table. “You know what I mean. The whole day today.”
“Lots to tell you, but let me find the knife first.”
“Here it is.” She produced the utensil.
He took it from her. But didn’t get up. Neither of them did, and he leaned in closer to breathe in her scent. Soap, as if she’d just washed her face before bed. Clean and womanly, and he bent even closer for a kiss, so he could taste her, too.
A knock on the door stopped him.
Eleanora sucked in a breath.
Both swung their gazes toward the back door. Reed didn’t need to ask to realize she’d thought the same thing. That Mortimer Crane had come with one of his floozies for an illicit romp upstairs, like he often did.
Except the knock came from the front. A second one, harder than the first.
“Who could that be?” Eleanora asked, not moving. “It’s so late.”
“All the guests in their rooms?”
“Yes.” She nodded for emphasis.
“Stay here.” He scooted out from under the table.
“I’m coming with you,” she said, scooting, too.
“I’ll talk to whoever it is.”
“I’m still coming with you.” She pulled the edges of her robe together and scurried after him, her bare feet muffled compared with the echoing tread of his boot heels.
He halted at the door and lifted one edge of the curtain. Pitch dark outside, but he could make out a shape. A man, big as a bear...
His muscles coiled. He thought fast, doing his best to figure the reason why Randall Dare would come to call. Reed wasn’t a shooting man, but Crane’s bodyguard was, and Reed figured having a weapon to defend Eleanora and himself would come in mighty handy right now.
Nudging Eleanora behind him, he unlocked the door and opened it, just enough to see through and hope Dare wouldn’t pull a trigger.
“Call off your henchmen, Shannon,” he said, his voice gravelly.
Reed kept his features impassive. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The hell you don’t.”
“Humor me.”
“Your activists. They’ve caused enough trouble. Mr. Crane wants them stopped.”
Reed went still.
Cuddy.
The pieces started to fall into place, one by one. Reed opened the door wider. “That so?”
“Showed up at the King 2. Made a mess of the place, threw trash around and scared off our horses. Set up fiery torches all around the mine.”
“I’ll be damned.” Took some effort, but Reed managed to keep his face straight. “How many you figure showed up?”
“Couldn’t tell, but enough to get Mr. Crane’s attention.”
Reed nodded. Waited so the man would keep talking.
“He don’t want no riots at his new mine or in Cranesville,” Dare said.
“Can’t say as I blame him.”
“He said to give you this.” Dare reached into a jacket pocket.
Braced for the worst, Reed tensed. The shape the man pulled out wasn’t of a weapon... but an envelope.
He handed the packet to Reed. “It’s all there. Everything you wanted.”
An involuntary choking sound escaped from
Reed’s throat. He swallowed hard to contain it.
“Next time, Mr. Crane won’t be so cooperative. Remember that.”
Reed held on tight to the envelope. Not a chance in the world anyone could take it from him. They’d have to shoot him dead first.
“I will,” he said.
Dare moved away from the door, and Reed lost sight of him. He stepped out onto the boardwalk, looked up one side, down the other. But the bodyguard was gone. Only the sound of horse hooves broke the night. Reed went back inside, shut the door and re-locked it.
“That was Randall Dare, wasn’t it?” Eleanora asked, eyes wide. “What did he give you?”
Reed opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of cash. Crisp, one-hundred-dollar bills. He didn’t have to count them to know how many there were. Forty-seven. He fanned them wide, like a deck of playing cards.
“Oh, Reed!” On a gasp, Eleanora’s fingers flew to her mouth. She took a sudden, bare-footed leap back, as if she expected those bills to burst into flame. “I’ve never seen so much money... oh, that’s a fortune!”
There was more. A folded piece of paper. His pulse humming, his heart racing, his brain hoping, he pulled that from the envelope, too. Unfolded it carefully, just in case it’d disintegrate in his fingers.
His proposed agreement. The out-of-court settlement he’d written and signed, and Judge Vaile had signed, too, and his breath hitched. He angled the paper toward the kitchen light, in case he was wrong.
Except he wasn’t.
There was another name there, too.
Mortimer Crane’s signature.
Only then did Reed jump up and let loose with a loud whoop!, punching the air with his fist, and he didn’t even care if he woke up Tessa or the entire hotel with his exuberance.
“Reed? What’s going on?”
Eleanora stood stock still, her beautiful face showing her confusion and uncertainty. He grabbed her by the waist, swinging her around in a full circle, swirling the hems of her robe. She held onto his shoulders, suddenly laughing, too, until he set her down in front of him, leaving her breathless and unsteady.
He cupped her face and kissed her. Fast and hard.
