by Stacy Henrie
Well after the lunch hour, Samuel could no longer ignore his hunger. The tavern usually sent a boy around to the local businesses to deliver sandwiches. But Samuel hadn’t had any interruptions today. So he decided that he’d walk to the bakery and buy something from Mrs. Smith.
Just as he stood up to close up shop for a short time, someone stepped inside.
“Carmela?” Samuel said, taking a moment to register that she really was here, in his shop. He’d been picturing her back at his home, maybe searching through his food pantry for a decent meal. She wasn’t wearing the fancy green dress from the day before but a simple blue cotton dress that fit her better. She’d tied her hair back with a ribbon, and she carried a wrapped parcel in her hands.
“I thought that you might be hungry,” she said, stepping forward. “You didn’t leave the house carrying a lunch.” She began unwrapping the parcel, and a heavenly smell struck Samuel.
“What is it?” he asked as she set the offering on the bench.
“Apple tarts,” she said. “I made them myself. And a couple of egg sandwiches.”
Samuel stared at the baked goodness. “You made apple tarts?”
“Yes,” she said. “And I used the rest of your flour, so you’ll need to resupply. That, and you’ll need more sugar.”
He was stunned and didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had fixed him a meal.
“While you’re eating that, I’ll get you some fresh water,” she said, moving her hands onto her hips. “Do you need anything else?”
Samuel shook his head. “You didn’t need to do all of this.”
“It’s the least I could do,” she said, lowering her voice, although they were the only ones in the shop. “You took care of me last night, when I should have been helping you.”
Samuel flashed her a smile, and, when she smiled right back, he felt his heart expand. He couldn’t believe that his brother had persuaded this beautiful woman to come out West. There were two sandwiches, so he offered her one.
“I’ve already eaten,” she said. “I’ll go refill your water bucket. I saw the pump on the side of the building.”
Before he could protest, she’d taken the bucket and sailed out of the shop. Stomach grumbling, he bit into the egg sandwich and moaned at the goodness. By the time Carmela returned, he’d finished a sandwich and an apple tart.
“The streets are quiet this morning,” she said.
“They usually are on Sunday mornings.” Samuel brushed off his hands and rose.
“Don’t mind me,” Carmela said, flashing him another smile. “I’m just going to snoop. That is, if you don’t mind.”
Samuel chuckled. “I don’t mind,” he said, and he realized that he didn’t. He enjoyed the second sandwich and second apple tart while she did just that— inspecting his shop and checking out the blacksmithing equipment. When she reached the table where he kept his account ledger and correspondence, she shook her head.
“How do you find anything in this mess?” she asked.
“It’s meant to be confusing,” Samuel said, “in case someone breaks into the shop and wants to review my accounting methods.”
She arched a brow, her mouth starting to lift in a smile. Then her smile froze. “You have quite a bit of unopened mail here.” She reached for a letter and picked it up. “To Gideon?”
“Oh, that,” Samuel said. “One of his… friends brought it over. I haven’t taken the time to go through it yet.”
“Lydia Weathers,” Carmela said. She held up another letter. “Jessica Brown. Are these relatives?”
Samuel was surprised at her interest, but Carmela had been planning on marrying Gideon, so maybe that accounted for her curiosity. He packed away the remains of his lunch and crossed over to her. Then he took the first letter from her hand.
“I had no idea that my brother was such an avid correspondent.” Perhaps Gideon was writing to more than one mail order bride. Now, he was as curious as Carmela. Picking up a letter opener from the table, he slit open the letter and withdrew the folded, glossy paper. It was thick like a photograph.
Turning it over, he realized that it was a photograph, but one that he wished Carmela wouldn’t witness. It was too late to hide it from her, however, since she was standing right next to him.
“Oh!” she said, sounding as shocked as Samuel felt.
Although, Samuel shouldn’t have been entirely shocked that his brother was ordering photographs of naked women from who knew where. He slipped the photograph back into the envelope and carried it over to the forge. Tossing it in, he said to Carmela, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment and just watched the flames turn the envelope into black ash. Samuel moved around her and gathered everything else addressed to his brother, tossing the envelopes one by one into the fire, making sure that they caught fire and burned completely.
“You are so different from your brother,” Carmela said in a soft voice. “It’s a wonder that you’re related at all.”
Samuel didn’t really know how to answer that, but he was pleased at her observance. He’d spent his life trying to live differently than his brother— and someone had finally noticed.
“Mr. Butler,” Carmela said, her hand sliding into his.
Her touch startled him, but he welcomed it. “I think you should call me Samuel,” he said, looking down into her eyes. “I feel that you know me quite well, at least better than anyone else.”
She continued looking up at him, and he wished he could know what she was thinking. Ever since she'd arrived in Leadville, she’d had one setback after another.
“I’d be honored to call you Samuel,” she said. “But you must call me Carmela.”
He nodded. “Carmela.”
She smiled as his poor accent didn’t translate so well to say her beautiful Italian name. Then she seemed to move closer to him, just as he leaned down. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her lips, and he lowered his face toward hers, not sure that he was thinking straight but feeling that instinct had taken over.
“Mr. Butler?” a female voice said behind him.
Samuel released Carmela as quick as lightning and spun around. “Mrs. Smith,” he said, sure that his face was bright red.
“You never picked up your bread order yesterday,” she said, carrying a paper sack. “I was sorry to hear about your brother,” she added, her eyes widening as Carmela stepped out from behind him.
“Oh, I didn’t know you had company.” Mrs. Smith’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as she stared Carmela up and down.
Here it is, he thought. Samuel would have to say something, and, whatever it was, it would be all over town like a flash.
But before he could make introductions, Carmela stepped forward, her hand outstretched. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Carmela Domeneca Rosalia Callemi,” she said. “I’m awaiting the next train to Boston, and Mr. Butler here is a friend of someone who was once dear to me.”
Mrs. Smith’s mouth rounded into an O. But she quickly recovered and said, “I’m Mrs. Smith. I run the bakery down the road. If you’re in need of refreshment, I can oblige you.”
“Oh, thank you so much,” Carmela said. “I appreciate the offer. I am perfectly all right.” Carmela turned to Samuel. “Thank you again, S— Mr. Butler. I’ll just be on my way.” Then she left the shop, leaving Samuel to face Mrs. Smith.
Chapter Eight
He had been about to kiss me, Carmela thought as she hurried away from the blacksmith shop. And that Mrs. Smith woman would have walked in on them. Wouldn’t that have been something for the town to gossip about? Although, Carmela wasn’t sure why a kiss between her and Samuel Butler would be fodder for gossip in a mining town that, apparently, had two taverns and plenty of tavern women.
The town seemed to be finally coming alive as she walked down Main Street. A couple of the shops had opened, and music floated out from one of the taverns. Loud laughter erupted, and a man burst
out of the front door, staggering to keep his balance. His efforts almost worked until he ran right into Carmela.
“Sorry, miss,” the man said, slurring his words. He grasped Carmela’s arms to steady himself. It was all she could do not to slap him. His breath was foul, and his clothes looked like they’d been slept in for several weeks in a row.
She drew away from him, peeling his fingers off of her skin. Then she stepped back and turned toward the road. She’d rather walk in the muddy street, she decided, than on the boardwalk next to the tavern.
But then a strong hand latched onto her arm, stopping her. “Where ya goin’ in such a hurry?” the man asked.
She turned to face the drunk again. “Let go of me now, or I’ll scream!” she warned.
The man only chuckled, his foul breath puffing into her face. “Never minded a bit of screamin’.”
Carmela slapped his cheek with her free hand. The man cried out, releasing her. And suddenly, another man stepped out of the tavern.
This man was sober and looked well-dressed. “Johnson!” he barked as he latched onto the man’s collar and tugged him toward the doors. “We’re going to sober you up then kick you out for good.” He gave a quick glance at Carmela. “Are you all right, miss?”
“I am,” she said, brushing off the front of her dress, feeling like she might have caught some disease.
“I hope Johnson’s poor behavior won’t stop you from visiting my establishment.” Then the man had the gall to smile at her.
Carmela could only stare at him in disgust. “I don’t ever plan to step foot inside your place.”
The man only smiled again and tipped an imaginary hat. “If you change your mind, you’d be very welcome.”
Carmela turned from him and walked back the way she’d come. She wasn’t thinking now about where she was going, just that she had to get away from the tavern owner and the drunk. She didn’t know who was worse. Walking briskly, she arrived at the blacksmith shop once again. She could hear the pounding of metal— Samuel was inside working.
Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to calm her racing heart. But this didn’t help, and tears budded in her eyes. Finally, she stepped into the shop. Just seeing Samuel made her feel better.
He looked up from his work bench, and a smile broke out on his face at the sight of her. “You’ve returned,” he said with obvious pleasure.
If she hadn’t still been so upset, this sight would have made her melt.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his face sobering. He stood and crossed to her, his expression seeming full of concern. The thought that Samuel might care, might truly care, brought her tears to the surface. “Carmela?” he asked in a worried tone.
She stepped closer and wrapped her arms about his waist. He didn’t move for a moment, but then his arms came around her, feeling sure and strong.
“What’s happened?” he asked again.
Carmela finally found her voice. “There was a man who grabbed me. He was coming out of the tavern and—”
Samuel drew away. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” Carmela breathed. “He just… scared me. Then the tavern owner came out, calling the man Johnson. But the owner wasn’t much better.”
Samuel’s jaw clenched. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
He looked back at her as he strode to the door. “Make sure neither of them bother you again.”
“But—” Carmela started to say, yet Samuel was already gone. What if Samuel gets hurt? she worried. She hurried out of the shop after him, but he was already halfway down the boardwalk. Before she could call out, he disappeared into the tavern.
Carmela felt ill. I’ve caused a lot of trouble for Samuel already. And he’ll probably praise the heavens the moment I get back onto the train. Just as she neared the tavern, two men burst out. She recognized the first as Johnson immediately, for he staggered, nearly falling, then steadied himself and took off running, albeit in not quite a straight line.
The second man was Samuel. He seemed unharmed, although he looked a bit roughed up. “Samuel!” she cried out just as several other men came out of the tavern. Some of them pointed in the direction Johnson was running, but others seemed more intent on watching Carmela.
She took a deep breath and gained command of her emotions. It wouldn’t do to start crying with relief in front of all these strangers. Samuel watched after Johnson for a moment, then he was apparently satisfied, and he turned toward her. He looked surprised to see her, but didn’t say anything to that effect. Instead, he walked to where she was standing and touched her lower back, steering her away from the gathering crowd.
“What did you do in there, Samuel?” Carmela whispered as they walked along.
“First, I told the tavern owner that if he ever spoke to you again, he’d regret it,” Samuel said. “Then I took care of Johnson. He won’t be showing his face anytime soon.” He slowed as they arrived back at his shop. “Look, Carmela, it’s best that you don’t walk through town unaccompanied. There are very few unmarried women here, and most of those are ladies of ill repute.”
Carmela’s face felt hot. She’d gathered as much. “Thank you for defending me,” she said. “But I feel terrible that you went to all that trouble.” She felt the tears burn in her eyes again, but she refused to let them fall. She was strong, not some whimpering female.
“Have you ridden horses?” Samuel suddenly asked.
“I have,” she said. “Although it’s been a while.”
“Then I’ll close up and take you home on my new mare,” Samuel said. “Riding her back will take no time, and you won’t have to sit in the heat of the shop all afternoon.”
“Your new mare?” Carmela was more interested now. “Where is she?”
“Behind the shop, probably eating all of the grass there.”
Carmela followed him around the shop. A beautiful mare with a dappled brown coat grazed on the nearby grass as she stood tied to a tree.
“Oh, she’s beautiful,” Carmela said, stepping up to the horse and holding her hand out for inspection. “What’s her name?”
Samuel leaned against the side of the shop. “I don’t know exactly. What do you think it should be?”
“I can name her?” Carmela asked, turning back to the horse. “Hmmm. How about Cinnamon or Nutmeg? She reminds me of sweet spices.”
The horse lifted her head and let out a soft snort. Carmela laughed. “I think she likes her new name.”
“Which will it be?” Samuel straightened, crossed to the horse, and gently stroked its head.
“Cinnamon.”
“All right,” he said.
Carmela fixed her wide eyes upon him. “Really?” Samuel smiled, and something fluttered in Carmela’s stomach.
“Really,” he said. “Now let’s get going.” He helped her onto the horse then climbed up behind her. As they rode down Main Street, she noticed that the crowd from the tavern had dispersed. Carmela decided that anyone who saw her with Samuel could speculate all they wanted. She didn’t know them, and she was more than happy to be under Samuel’s protective care.
With one of his arms wrapped around her, she realized that she had never felt so protected and energized at the same time as she did now. She had not expected Gideon to have a brother and one who had all the qualities that she had thought Gideon himself would have. If he had never duped me into coming out to Leadville, I would have never met Samuel. Perhaps fortune had smiled on her after all.
Chapter Nine
Samuel was still feeling upset as he rode with Carmela back to the homestead, but he hoped that he was hiding it well. It had taken every bit of his resolve not to challenge Johnson to a gun duel. Leadville wasn’t exactly the Wild West, but women should be able to walk down Main Street and not worry about being harassed. Samuel’s heart still pounded at the thought of the treatment this innocent woman had received at the hands of a drunken man.
He wanted
to pull Carmela into his arms and comfort her again. But he would have to settle for having one arm wrapped loosely around her waist as they rode on the newly named Cinnamon. He found himself relaxing as Carmela’s dark hair brushed against his neck, and he inhaled her scent of wildflowers and fresh soap.
As they passed the train station, Carmela turned her head. A notice had been posted on the outside of the station about the next train’s arrival from the West. Even from his position, Samuel could read it. There was no denying that tomorrow the train would come through at noon.
Disappointment rushed through him, and Samuel had to shake it off as Carmela said, “Oh, the train is coming tomorrow— at last.”
This meant that, by tomorrow at this time, she would be gone from Leadville forever, on her way back to Boston. Samuel wondered why he was suddenly so melancholy at the thought of her leaving. He barely knew her, and she’d had nothing but disappointments since she had arrived.
“I can pay for your ticket,” he said. “It’s the least I can do about the… uh… mix-up.” He regretted offering this because he didn’t want her to get on that train.
She shook her head and then turned slightly so that she could look up at him as they rode. “You are too kind,” she said. “But I have enough for the ticket. I wouldn’t want to put you out any more than I already have.”
“You haven’t put me out,” Samuel said, knowing that these were the truest words he’d ever spoken. He had enjoyed helping her. He wished they could spend more time together, for he wanted to know everything about her.
All too soon, they reached the homestead. Samuel climbed off the horse then helped Carmela down. As she slid off the horse, she slipped into his arms, and he had the sudden desire to touch her hair and her cheek, to lean in and breathe.
“Thank you for the ride,” she said, looking up at him, that sweet smile on her face.
