by Cindy Myers
“Trish and I are engaged,” he said.
“Oh, really. Funny, I don’t remember a ring. Then again, I don’t always notice that kind of thing.”
“We haven’t picked out a ring yet.”
Greg laughed. “Then you’re not very engaged, are you? If it was me, no way would I leave a woman like that alone without at least putting a big fat diamond on her finger to mark her as already claimed. With a woman that beautiful, some other man is always waiting to make a move on her. And who could blame him?”
If Greg hadn’t been a foot taller than him and outweighed him by thirty pounds, Travis would have decked him, but punching him now would only end up with Travis in the dirt—or in jail for disturbing the peace. All he really wanted was to get out of here and somewhere he could call Trish. She wouldn’t really dump him for some slick-talking jerk, would she?
He spotted a familiar blond head moving through the crowd toward them, and inspiration struck. “Greg, old friend, I’m going to do you a big favor,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“See that blonde there? The one with the big hair and the bigger boobs?”
“I see her.”
“That’s Baby Shelly.” He clapped him the back. “Have fun interviewing her, and remember—you owe me.”
Before Greg could respond, Travis turned and slipped away. Right now he had more important things to worry about than a disaster that had happened a quarter century ago.
After two hours of photographing the vendors and the crowd in the park, plus a break to nurse Angela and grab a hot dog for herself, Maggie still hadn’t seen Jameso. She tried calling him again, only to have her call go straight to voice mail. Now, in addition to being angry, she was beginning to get worried. She stood on the edge of the crowd, phone in hand, the other wrapped around the baby, uncertain what to do. If she could find Josh Miller, the sheriff’s deputy, maybe she’d ask him what to do. He and Jameso were friends. But there was no sign of Josh, either.
She headed back toward the exit, still scanning the crowd. “Maggie, is everything okay?” Janelle put her hand on Maggie’s arm. “You look worried,” she said. “Is everything all right?”
“Have you seen Jameso?” Maggie asked. “I’ve been looking everywhere for him, and he’s not answering his phone.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s over at the Hard Rock Miner competition.” Janelle pointed toward the bleachers set up at the far end of the park. “I saw him earlier, with Josh and D. J.”
Relief flooded Maggie, quickly overtaken by anger. What was Jameso doing over there with his friends when she needed him here, with her? “Thanks, Janelle,” she said, already headed toward the bleachers.
The competition area was packed, the bleachers filled and spectators lined up along the sidelines. “Excuse me, I’m a reporter,” she said, ignoring the annoyed looks directed her way by some of the spectators as she pushed her way toward the front. She spotted Rick, who waved her over.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show,” he said. “They’re just getting ready for the double-jacking. Get your camera.”
“Have you seen—?”
“Shhhh. They’re starting.” Rick held his camera up to his eye, ready for the next shot.
“Our first team is the Dark Knight and Badger.”
Maggie gasped as Jameso and Josh strode into the center of the cleared-off area. Dressed in tight black T-shirts and faded jeans, the two men elicited whistles and cheers from the crowd—and more than a few sighs from the women present. They smiled and waved to the spectators, then took up the tools of the competition.
Maggie had written about double-jacking for the paper, so she knew a little about what to expect in the event. But the announcer, Reverend Kinkaid, explained things for the crowd, many of whom had probably never seen this kind of competition before. “Miners extracted ore from the mines by drilling holes in the rock, then filling the holes with black powder,” he said. “They placed a fuse to light the powder, blew a hole in the rock, and loaded the resulting debris onto ore cars to be processed. That rock is known as ‘muck,’ and loading it into the ore carts is called ‘mucking.’
“Some of you probably saw the mucking competition earlier today. In the days before power tools, the only way to drill holes in rock was by hand, using carbon steel hand drills and hammers. The miners were known as ‘Cousin Jacks’ and the process of drilling was known as ‘jacking.’ In double-jacking, the man holding and turning the drill is known as the ‘shaker.’ The man with the hammer is the ‘driller.’ They switch places approximately every thirty seconds, and the competition lasts ten minutes. Now, let’s begin.”
Maggie stuffed her camera back into her bag. “You’re going to have to photograph this, Rick,” she said. “I’m not even sure I can watch.”
“Oh, don’t be a wuss,” he said. “Jameso’s done this before. He and Jake were a team one of the years Jake won his trophy. And I’m sure he and Josh have been practicing.”
Jameso knelt beside a shin-high chunk of granite the size of a kitchen table, drill in hand, more chisels at his side, while Josh stood over him with the hammer. D. J. knelt beside them with a water hose to feed water into the hole as they drilled. The water flushed debris from the hole and helped keep the chisels from overheating. Maggie covered her eyes and held her breath.
At the first strike of the hammer on the chisel, another cheer rose from the crowd. Maggie uncovered one eye. Jameso spun the chisel just as Josh struck another blow. Every thirty seconds they switched places, with choreographed precision, changing drills as each became dull. The two men moved so swiftly, like a machine, each blow driving the sharpened chisel deeper into the rock. Maggie uncovered both eyes and watched in awe as her husband rained blows down, muscles bunching, his handsome face a mask of concentration. The sound of metal on rock filled the air, sharp and rhythmic.
At the end of ten minutes, Reverend Kinkaid called “Time,” and the men stood back, chests heaving, faces flushed, and watched while the judges—Bob Prescott and Junior Dominick—stepped forward to measure the hole they had drilled.
“Twenty-five point four inches,” Bob announced.
“Is that any good?” Maggie asked Rick as around them, the crowd roared.
“Very good,” he said. “The record is twenty-six point nine inches in ten minutes.”
Jameso spotted Maggie on the sidelines and grinned. Then he and Josh collected their tools and exited the arena. “Where is he going?” Maggie asked, intending to follow.
Rick pulled her back. “He’s got to get ready for the single-jacking,” he said. “And you’ve got work to do.”
“He’s in the single-jacking competition, too?”
“And the mucking and spike driving,” Rick said. “He’s leading the scoring right now.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“You’ll have to ask him that.” She took out her camera again, fighting a dizzying whirl of emotions. She was proud, confused, angry, hurt, and elated. At least Jameso really had been hanging out with Josh and D. J. and not seeing Mindy or some other woman. But why hadn’t he told her?
Four more teams competed in double-jacking, including a women’s team. Each drilled holes in the rock with varying degrees of speed and agility, but no one was injured and the crowd cheered them on ever more raucously.
“Single-jacking is up next,” Rick said when the last team had cleared the arena. “Since Jameso is the points leader, he’ll go last.”
Which meant Maggie had to wait through three other finalists in order to see her husband again. Two of those finalists turned out to be Josh and D. J., who came out for the first round of competition. In single-jacking, the competitor held and turned a shorter drill with one hand, while striking it with a hammer with the other. For this round, two men competed at a time, each drilling for ten minutes. Whoever drilled the deepest hole at the end of that time was the winner. A second man on each team acted as the waterer.
> Maggie had to admit, she was impressed. The men wielded their hammers with surprising speed and force, never pausing between blows, the metallic ringing providing a steady beat against the crowd’s cheers, water and bits of rock flying from the holes with each blow.
“Time!” Reverend Kinkaid called, and both men dropped their hammers and stepped back. The judges moved forward with their measuring sticks, heads together over their clipboards while the crowd murmured, restless.
The judges approached Reverend Kinkaid, who listened a moment, then turned to the crowd. “And the winner of this round is Badger, otherwise known as Josh Miller.”
Josh smiled and bowed to the crowd, then he and D. J. shook hands and collected their tools.
Jameso and a man from California who called himself Monterey Jack competed in the next round. When the announcer introduced the Dark Knight, the crowd went wild. Jameso grinned and acknowledged the cheers and applause, then turned toward Maggie and blew her a kiss. She smiled in spite of her determination not to. Whatever Jameso was up to, she’d find out sooner or later.
D. J. served as Jameso’s waterer. “Ready, set, go!” came the cry, and they were off, hammers flying, ringing loud on the steel drills. Maggie stood on her toes, trying to get a better view of Jameso, hunched over the chunk of granite, face red, muscles bunching from the strain.
Then his hammer slipped. The crowd gasped, and Maggie cried out. Rick put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right,” he said. “It hit the rock, not his hand.”
But that slight fumble slowed him down. Monterey Jack, realizing what had happened, picked up his own pace. Maggie bit her lip, afraid of what would happen next.
Jameso’s face was grim with determination as he hefted the hammer again and brought it slamming down on the drill. Sparks flew as he turned and pounded, turned and pounded.
When Reverend Kinkaid called time, Jameso dropped his hammer and straightened, breathing hard, his expression still grim. The judges made their measurements. Bob said something to Jameso, and his shoulders relaxed a little.
“The winner is Jameso Clark, the Dark Knight,” Reverend Kinkaid announced. “He’ll compete against Josh Miller in the final round.”
In the short intermission between rounds, Maggie went to find Jameso. “Maggie!” he greeted her, face flushed, eyes alight with excitement. “What did you think?”
“You were wonderful.” She kissed him. “And awful.” She shoved at his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me what you were up to?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he said. “And I didn’t want you to worry.”
“But I missed half the competition,” she said.
His smile faded. “Yeah, that part didn’t work out so well. I thought Rick would have you photographing the whole thing. I sent someone to find you, but they couldn’t in the crowd.”
“What about your phone? I’ve been trying to call you all morning.”
“I left it at the Dirty Sally last night.” He looked sheepish. “I was a little distracted.”
“Let me see your hands.”
He put his hands behind his back. “Why?”
“Let me see them.” She held out her own, palm up. Reluctantly, he extended both his hands. She ran her fingers over the bruises and scratches on his knuckles. “That must have hurt,” she said.
“Not so mu—” But her lips, pressed gently to the injuries, stopped his words. He closed his eyes, then opened them and reached around to caress the back of her neck. She looked up at him. “I’m sorry if I screwed things up by being secretive,” he said. “I wanted you to be proud of me.”
“I am proud of you.” She straightened. “So proud.”
“Okay, men. Time to go.” D. J. claimed their attention. “Maggie, better get back to your seat.”
Reluctantly, she returned to the sideline. “I can see I’m going to have to do all the work this year,” Rick said as he picked up his camera.
“I guess you are.” She wrapped both arms around Angela, who blinked at her sleepily. “I’ve got to cheer on my husband.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, Badger and the Dark Knight!”
The roar from the crowd rose to deafening levels as the two men, shirtless this time, stepped into the arena. Maggie had trouble getting her breath as she stared at her husband, his muscular torso gleaming with sweat. From the catcalls and whistles from women in the stands, they appreciated the show as well.
“All right men. Take your places.”
Each man stood before a chunk of granite, while the waterers knelt to one side.
“Ready. Get set. Go!”
The hammers beat down ping, ping, ping, ping, pingping-pingping, so rapid the sound blended into one long reverberation. Maggie had never known ten minutes could be so long. The men never let up their pace, faces red, muscles straining, hammers ringing on steel.
“They’re neck and neck here, folks,” Reverend Kinkaid said. “Let’s cheer them on to the winner.”
The crowd obliged, shouting and whistling. Most of the spectators were on their feet now. Even Rick had put down his camera to clap and cheer.
“Go, Jameso!” Maggie shouted. “You can do it!”
“Time!”
Both men straightened, seemingly at once, their hammers idle in the dirt, though the sound still rang in Maggie’s ears. She held her breath as Reverend Kinkaid and the judges approached. The judges measured the depth of the holes, then gave their findings to the reverend, who raised the microphone to his lips.
“And the winner, with a depth of fifteen point eight inches, is Jameso Clark.”
Maggie scarcely heard the rest of the announcement. She was already crossing the arena to Jameso, who drew her to him in a rib-crushing hug. “I am definitely proud of you,” she said. “But not because you won or lost. Just because you’re you—and because you’re mine.”
She had no time to say more, as they were swept along by a crowd who wanted to congratulate Jameso, patting him on the back and shaking his hand. Angela started fussing, and Maggie unwound the sling and held her, but finally surrendered her to Jameso. He made an incredibly appealing picture, brawny and shirtless, cradling the tiny baby in one muscular arm.
“I hope you know, you are one lucky woman.”
Startled, Maggie looked over to see Mindy standing beside her. “Yes, I am,” she said. “Sometimes I forget how lucky.”
“Just so you know, we never did more than flirt,” Mindy said. “It was just a game to pass the time. Anybody could look at you two and know no one else stood a chance.”
“I knew that,” Maggie said, though she felt her cheeks heat at the lie.
Mindy drifted away and Maggie turned to watch Reverend Kinkaid present Jameso with his trophy—a bronzed miner’s lamp. He posed for pictures with Josh and alone, still with Angela in his arms. Then at last the crowd thinned and Maggie was able to claim husband and child again.
“How could you ever think I wouldn’t be proud of you?” she whispered, kissing his cheek.
He made a face. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe because your first husband was rich, or because your old man won this competition three years in a row. Jake’s been dead a year and people still talk about him as if he was alive.”
“You really love me,” she said. “That’s worth more than anything either one of them ever did.”
“Well, I want to do more than that.” He looked down at her, his expression serious. “I’m cutting back my hours at the Dirty Sally.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I shouldn’t have nagged you about it. And if you enjoy the work—”
“It’s okay. The new owners have hired another bartender.”
“New owners?” How had this information escaped her? “What about that guy in Nebraska who’s owned the place for years? Larry somebody.”
“Oh, he still owns the building, but he wanted to get out of the management side, so he sold half a share to a local guy.”
“What local guy?”
“Me.”
She stared at him. “What?”
“I had some money saved, so when I heard Larry might be interested in selling, I called him up and made an offer. We worked out a deal. I probably should have told you before, but I wanted to make sure it was really going to happen. I signed the papers this morning.”
She laughed. “I never knew I married such a devious man,” she said. “Do you have any other surprises planned? Because I’m not sure how many more I can stand.”
“No more, I promise.” He squeezed her hand. “So you’re okay with this? I won’t be bartending as much, but I’ll have to spend more time on the management side of things. We may have to hire some help at the B and B.”
“We’ll work it out.” She leaned into him. “That’s my new motto: Whatever happens, we’ll work it out. There’s just one thing.”
“What’s that?” He looked wary.
“You have to give me the exclusive interview for the paper. After all, new management at the town’s only bar is a big deal.”
“It’s a deal. And I hope you know you always have exclusive access to me.”
“I know. I’m sorry I was a jealous shrew.”
“Yeah, well, I guess I’ve proved you’re not the only one in this partnership with some insecurities.” He drew her around to face him. “Nobody said this was going to be easy, for either of us,” he said. “But we’re going to make it work. Just remember how much I love you.”
“And I love you.” They kissed, a sweet embrace that reminded her of all the good they had created together. She wasn’t going to let the past drag at them anymore. She’d remember that what had happened to her before wasn’t nearly as important as the future they could build together.
Chapter 18
Backstage at the Eureka Opera House was the typical pre-performance confusion of last-minute adjustments to sets and costumes, actors running over lines, family members hovering, and Cassie issuing instructions to everyone while mostly being ignored. Mindy pushed her way through the crowd around the door. “Where have you been?” Shelly asked. “I was afraid you wouldn’t make it. Can you help button up my costume?”
