by Jody Hedlund
Seconds ticked by, filled with the sounds of the laughter, greetings, and good-natured teasing of the men inside the tavern.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “The night we had dinner at my house, you told me you accepted me. Were you lying to me?”
She flinched.
His words were blunt, but he didn’t want to take them back. He waited, his gaze unwavering.
“I do accept you, Zeke,” she said quietly. “But as I told you, there’s a difference between accepting someone and agreeing with them.”
Was she giving him an ultimatum, telling him he had to change or lose out on having her? He shook his head. He might be infatuated with her, but even he knew a relationship would never work if one person changed to earn the approval of another. Even if he’d wanted to do that, he couldn’t fake faith. He might not be a man of God anymore, but he also wouldn’t make a mockery of religion by pretending to be something he wasn’t.
“Then I guess there’s no hope for us.” He couldn’t keep the hint of question from his words.
“I wish there was—”
“I’m not changing who I am for you.”
“And I’m not asking you to.”
“Good.”
Her expression was stricken, her eyes wide and glassy. “I hope we can at least stay friends.”
“Really?” He released a humorless laugh. “Do you think I’m a saint?”
“No, of course not—”
“Don’t ask for the impossible, Kate. Fact is, there’s no way I can be around you without wanting you.”
She looked away, but not before he saw a tear spill over.
Regret punched him low. He was letting his anger get the best of him and wasn’t being as kind and sensitive to her as he ought to be. “Listen, if it makes you feel better, then let’s pretend we never had this conversation.”
She nodded and swiped at her cheek. “Okay.”
“I’ll walk you to the laundry.”
“No. I’ll be fine. I don’t need you to accompany me.”
“I insist.”
She didn’t protest again as he led her around the tavern onto the sidewalk. In fact, she didn’t say anything at all as he walked by her side down the street. He was at a loss for words himself, his heart aching too much to pretend otherwise. When she was safely under Becca’s watchful eye and the door closed behind her, he pressed a fist against his chest.
He’d offered himself to Kate, but she didn’t want him. Now, the pain in his shoulder wound couldn’t begin to compare with the pain in his heart.
NINE
THE STEADY DRIPPING of water in the mine tunnel soothed Zeke, reminding him that everything went on as usual in the world even if his personal life hadn’t been going as he’d wanted.
He held out his lantern as he sloshed through the ankle-deep water, following Phil, his foreman. The craggy ceiling above forced them to stoop low. The slimy cold walls with calcium deposits pressed in, giving them little room to maneuver.
“The vein could be the biggest one yet.” Phil’s voice echoed with the same excitement it had since he’d approached Zeke’s table at the tavern earlier in the evening. Now, after witnessing the discovery and examining the size, Zeke agreed with Phil. The new vein promised greater wealth than he’d imagined possible. With the incentives Zeke offered his foremen and even his workers, they stood to gain a substantial profit too.
If only Zeke could muster the same enthusiasm as Phil.
He’d hoped the trek up to his mine and the hike into the newest tunnel would distract him from the conversation he’d had earlier with Kate. And he’d hoped the sight of the gold would mollify him and remind him of his goals.
Aye, he’d wanted to find gold and get rich quick. Every man who came to the Cariboo wanted that. And he was no different. But he’d wanted the capital so he could start other business ventures that would sustain him and keep him busy long term.
Now after living in Williamsville for a year and a half, he’d come to see it as a place where he could have a fresh start, maybe even a place to put down roots. He was doing all he could to help build the town and turn it into a permanent community, one that didn’t fizzle out once the gold was gone. Today’s discovery of more gold would only aid his efforts.
Yet, even after seeing the deposit and trying to distract himself, he still couldn’t stop from feeling the sting of Kate’s rebuff. It hurt more than he wanted to admit that she could so easily dismiss him for not having God in his life. What difference did it make? Especially since they’d gotten along so well all week. That’s all that really mattered.
Let her go, Hart. If she didn’t want him, then he didn’t want her either. After all, before she came and started stirring up things in him, he’d been just fine without a woman. He’d get along just fine again once he got her out of his system.
“Assay those nuggets first thing in the morning,” Zeke directed. “We want to validate the grade. No sense in claiming we have a bonanza until we know for sure.”
Doing so would only create a frenzy within the miners, drawing even more men to the area from other mining camps and towns.
“I’m afraid the word has already spread,” Phil said. “After the dust settled and the crew began hauling away the ore, the vein was staring us all right in the face.”
As they climbed a ladder and reached the main drift, the air was warmer and clearer, especially the closer they hiked toward the end of the tunnel and the outside world. While the ground was damp, it wasn’t as wet as the tunnels they’d created under the water table.
The darkness of the night blended with the shadows of the passageway, so that the swaying lantern provided the only light. The place was deserted, lacking the usual steady tap of bits against rock and the heavy ring of iron drifters boring holes to use in the blasting. The trams stood silently, some filled with useless rock that needed to be removed from the mine and added to the ever-growing dump piles.
With the new vein, he’d have to resume using a night watchman to keep thieves away. Maybe he’d finally have to consider a night shift to excavate the gold faster. He could afford to hire more men and pay them better than Putnam, Blake, or any of the other smaller mines. But giving raises to his men would only cause discontent among the other mine workers and lead to tension with area bosses. He didn’t want any problems, not now when he was getting along with the rest of the mine owners.
Phil reached the portal first and stumbled over a rope strung at ankle length across the width of the opening. He tripped and fell to his knees onto the rocky ground, yanking the string in the process.
On one side of the entrance, just outside, Zeke caught sight of a sparking flare, like the striking of a match.
He paused, held the lantern up, and attempted to make sense of what he was seeing. When they entered the mine, they hadn’t encountered any obstructions across the opening. Who had placed the rope there, and why?
A flashing and fizzling flowed along a line, and the smoky scent of gunpowder rose into the air.
Phil began to rise, grousing under his breath and peeling back the slit at the knee of his trousers to reveal a gouge in his flesh.
Zeke stepped over the rope and watched the spark pick up speed.
“I told them not to dump the ore so close to the portal.” Phil pressed a hand against his trousers at the kneecap, blood turning the wool dark.
If Zeke didn’t know better, he’d almost believe someone was in the middle of a blasting project. The flare of an ignition, the long line intended to give plenty of get-away time, and the odor of sulfur and charcoal.
He studied the setup again, this time noting the flare was burning faster and heading toward a small barrel. The container wasn’t full of gunpowder, was it?
As the spark touched the barrel, Zeke’s pulse took a giant leap. In the same instant, he dove toward Phil. “Watch out!” His body slammed into Phil’s.
They’d been sabotaged. Someone had purposefully set a trap, hoping to de
stroy them and make it look like an accident.
An explosion rocked the air, sending fire and earth skyward. The force blasted into Zeke. Though he attempted to keep his hold on Phil and shield him from the debris, the power of the gunpowder propelled Phil out of his grasp.
Heat scorched Zeke’s flesh, and he cried out. The next thing he knew, his body crashed into a pile of rocks. His head slammed against the stones. Pain erupted against his skull. And the world went black.
Kate brushed the charcoal pencil with short, choppy strokes in the areas where dark met light. Her loose markings formed the outline of the mountainous landscape that rose over Williamsville. The heavier strokes in the foreground were bringing to life the businesses and several men lounging in front of the general store. As much as she tried not to, her fingers had a will of their own and sketched Zeke’s ruggedly handsome features into the face of one of the men.
She’d hoped the process of drawing something would get him out of her mind. When that hadn’t worked, she hoped by bringing him to life on the page she could accept he wouldn’t be in her life. She had three pages of sketches with him in each one, and she was still no closer to forgetting about him than when she’d started.
With a sigh, she let her pencil grow idle and leaned against the rough log wall of the shack, the lantern light sputtering at this late hour. Becca was already asleep in her hammock, her hand dangling over the edge, skin cracked and raw but glistening with grease.
Earlier, when Becca had stumbled inside, exhausted and in need of a little doctoring, Kate had pillaged through Mr. Chung’s supplies and had also borrowed items from their neighbor so she could make a honey-butter salve for Becca’s chapped hands.
Now the sweet scent of the salve mingled with the lye that permeated Becca’s damp garments. Wasn’t that how life was—a mixture of pleasant and harsh?
Here she was in Williamsville, connecting with Zeke Hart, the man she’d always adored. He’d noticed her as a woman. Said he liked her. Wanted to court her. Thought she was beautiful.
She closed her eyes, unable to stop the smile from curving her lips. He’d not only spoken words of desire, but each of his slow strokes on her cheek and neck had told of his desire just as loudly and boldly, so much so that she’d almost thrown away all caution and wrapped her arms around him in return. Even now, she could feel the graze of his fingers down her neck, and the heat from before returned to her belly and swirled there.
“Oh Lord, help,” she whispered.
Her pencil clattered to the plank floor. Quickly she opened her eyes and grabbed it before it dropped through one of the floor slats. She’d already lost a paintbrush that way and hadn’t been able to fish it out of the narrow crack.
Lifting her pencil and angling it toward the paper, she studied her sketch, her attention invariably drawn to the center of the page, to Zeke, to his face and the way he’d looked when he tilted his head and asked her: “Aye, we like each other. So why not court and see where this leads?”
She’d wanted so desperately to tell him yes. But how could she, when they didn’t share the same values? Her parents hadn’t been united in their faith, and their marriage had unraveled because the threads holding them together hadn’t been strong enough without a common commitment to the Lord.
When Kate had been just a girl of ten, her father left their family on a quest for adventure.
The morning he’d stood in the doorway ready to leave, Kate rushed to him, threw her arms around his waist, and buried her face in his chest.
“Ah, my Katie, my dearest,” he crooned, laying one of his broad hands upon her head and smoothing back her hair. “Don’t ye be a-cryin’ now, d’ye hear me?”
From the bed in the corner underneath the coverlet, her mum’s sobs were brokenhearted, laced with the disappointment of a woman who’d begged God for years for her husband’s salvation, to end up having him reject not only God, but her.
“I almost forgot.” He set down his bag and dug into his coat pocket. “I’ve got something for ye.”
“I don’t need anything.” Except for you to stay. But she’d been too young and in too much awe of her father to speak her mind.
He tugged out a ribbon, long and silky, and a bright rosy pink. “Thought of my sweet lass the instant I saw this.”
“It’s very pretty.” She reached out and stroked it, her throat tightening.
“Not as pretty as ye are.” He smiled his handsome grin before he twirled his finger at her. “Turn around.”
She obeyed as she always did.
He combed her hair gently, almost reverently. Then he looped the ribbon underneath and wound it to the top of her head. His big fingers fumbled as he tied it into place. “There.” He stepped back and took her in. “Every time I think about ye, I’ll remember ye just like this, that I will.”
She wanted to say something—anything—but she couldn’t get her voice to work.
“My Katie.” The excitement in his eyes dimmed.
She had to convince him not to go. Maybe he didn’t love Mum enough to stay as Mum had accused him, but maybe he’d stay for her. “I love you, Papa,” she whispered, unable to keep her lips from trembling. “Please don’t leave me.”
He hesitated, and his shoulders sagged as they had so often of late. “I love ye too, my Katie, my dearest.”
Her hope widened. But then he picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “I just wish I could have been everything ye and yer mum needed me to be. And I’m sorry I’m not.” He touched her ribbon, gave her a last sad smile, then turned and left.
Kate hadn’t been able to move. Instead, she stared at the open doorway and waited for him to walk back through, pick her up, and toss her into the air like he’d done when she was a wee lass.
Instead, only Jeremiah came through the door. His furrowed brows and brooding eyes told her he’d heard every word of the good-bye. He walked straight to her, took her hand and squeezed it tight, but didn’t say a word.
There hadn’t been any words to make her feel better, not then and not now.
She slipped her hand into her pocket and grazed the fraying ribbon.
No matter how sweet and handsome Zeke was, she couldn’t fall prey to the same mistake her mum had made by courting and marrying a man who didn’t follow God or His ways. She’d made the right decision earlier in turning down Zeke’s offer. It was for the best, and she’d get over him, especially once she started meeting other men.
She stuffed the ribbon back down to the bottom of her pocket. She didn’t know why she hung on to the silly old thing after all these years. She needed to throw it away. It wasn’t worth keeping.
A tentative knock on the door startled her. She scrambled to her feet and stared at the door. It was late, well after midnight. And she should have been asleep hours ago, the same as Becca.
Who could be knocking on her door at this time of night? And why?
Zeke’s warnings about the men clamored at the back of her mind. Sometimes she was too trusting and needed to use more caution. Was this one of those times?
“Miss Millington,” came an unfamiliar voice. “I realize it is quite late—or I should say early—1:46 a.m. to be exact.”
Was her visitor Wendell, Zeke’s assistant? If so, what was he doing out at this hour?
“It’s now 1:47.”
Yes, her unexpected guest was Wendell. And the urgency in his tone pricked her. She flung open the door only to catch him in the process of knocking again, this time at the air.
“Miss Millington.” His hand stalled in mid motion. His shirt was half untucked, bowtie askew, and hair mussed. Worse, the lantern he held revealed his pale face and grave expression.
The hair on her arms stood on end. “What brings you out at this hour of the night?”
“My grandfather sent me.”
She waited for him to explain further.
He stared back as if waiting for her to say something first.
“And what does Mr. Peab
ody need?”
“He doesn’t need anything.”
“Then why did he send you?”
“I told him the matter could wait until morning, but he insisted.”
“What matter?” She tried to keep the exasperation from her voice.
“Zeke—”
“Aye?”
“He’s been hurt. There was an explosion up at the mine.”
She’d heard enough about the mines to know explosions could be dangerous, even deadly. “Is he still there?” She stepped outside and closed the door.
“No, he’s at home. The doctor’s still with him trying to save him.”
Trying to save him? Dread coursed through her. He wasn’t dying, was he? What if he was already dead?
She pressed a hand against her mouth to stifle a cry. Then, without waiting for Wendell, she darted forward. Even though she’d only been to Zeke’s home once, she knew exactly where it was. As the largest home, it stood out, and her feet carried her swiftly toward it well ahead of Wendell, her head and heart pounding with the need to see Zeke and to do anything she could to help.
The taverns along Main Street were still brightly lit, doors open, boisterous talking and laughter ringing in the night air. Thankfully, however, the street was deserted except for a drunken man relieving himself to the side of one of the businesses.
As she stepped onto the portico at the front of Zeke’s house, the dread inside her had taken on a life of its own, so that she could hardly breathe. She didn’t have time to knock before the door opened wide.
“Mademoiselle.” Mr. Peabody wore a long nightcap over his bald head and was attired in a flowing nightdress that fell to his ankles. His ruddy face had lost all color, making his dark mustache and goatee more prominent. “Thank you for coming.”
“How is Zeke?”
He shook his head, and tears welled in his eyes. “Not good. Not good at all.”
Her pulse, which was already pattering too fast, picked up pace. She sidled past Mr. Peabody into the hallway where several miners with somber faces waited. At the sight of her, they stared at the floor.
