It wasn’t a question. Tucker saw the rest of the statement etched in the little man’s beady eyes. I didn’t know Will Raines had a son.
“I arrived in town last week, sir. I’m helping my father with the family business. The Raines Ice Company.”
Updike nodded. “Why are you here, Mr. Raines?”
“My father is ill. I’ll be running the business for him, and I want to expand it.”
His revelation of sickness in the family hadn’t changed the man’s expression in the least.
“Better you running the company than that ugly”—Updike regarded Tucker with a squinted stare and spit the next word—“Negro he had working for him.”
Tucker swallowed his ire, but not very deeply. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on the desk. “Otis Bernard is a fine man and still works for us.”
Mr. Updike’s lips thinned, and he flipped the folder open. Had the fact that he didn’t share the man’s prejudice cost Tucker the loan? Cost his father his home?
“With the exponential growth here in Cripple Creek and the surrounding communities, I anticipate greater and greater need for iceboxes and ice deliveries,” Tucker said.
Pushing his spectacles up, Updike peered at a page in the folder.
Tucker opened the ledger and pulled out his estimate of growth and his list of needs and expenses. “I brought a list of items that would help us better serve the community’s needs. An icehouse and more wagons, more horses, and more men would produce more regular customers. I’ve prepared an itemized list of our needs and the estimated cost to fulfill them.”
“Last winter, your father sat where you’re sitting with a similar request.”
Tucker held out the list to Mr. Updike. When the older man didn’t accept the paper, Tucker drew in a breath and prayed it would serve to shrink his fast-growing frustration. “Sir, I think my estimates here would be enough to do the job. I’m confident that by spring the Raines Ice—”
“I told your father no.” Mr. Updike closed the folder and sat back in his chair. “My answer to you is the same.”
No longer able to abide the man’s smugness, Tucker moved to the edge of the chair. “Mr. Updike, I need to ask you why.”
The man with too much sleeve peered up at him over the top of his wire rims. “It’s my job to choose who and what would be the best investment for the bank, and I say the Raines Ice Company doesn’t qualify. If you’d like to reconsider some of your business practices and then reapply, I might be willing to hear you.”
Tucker understood. He scooped the ledger off the desk and rose to his feet. “Thank you for your time.”
He couldn’t leave the bank too soon. He gave the hunched security guard at the main door a quick nod on his way out to the boardwalk.
He could never fire the man who’d kept his father’s business alive. Otis was more a part of the Raines Ice Company than Tucker was.
Now what?
He didn’t want to go back to the house. Not yet. He couldn’t bear to see his father’s worn chair sitting empty in the corner. He’d let him down yet again. He was to blame for Willow’s broken heart and for his parents leaving Stockton. Feeling the weight of it all on his shoulders, Tucker stuck the ledger inside his canvas coat, then turned right on Bennett instead of left, headed in the direction of Mount Pisgah.
In a matter of weeks he’d have a bill from the sanitorium in Colorado Springs to add to the ledger. He was a preacher, not a businessman. God had called him to minister to the lost—to people who needed Him. And yet here he was, helplessly attempting to run an anemic ice business.
At Second Street, he stepped off the boardwalk and raised his face to the sun. “What are You doing, God?”
He hadn’t realized he’d spoken the prayer audibly until he lowered his gaze and saw Ida Sinclair standing in front of him.
ELEVEN
r. Raines,” Ida said in greeting. The redness coloring Tucker Raines’s face gave his brown eyes an autumn hue.
Ida enjoyed his coy smile until she remembered Hattie’s earlier statement. “Who says you won’t have both? You and the young Mr. Raines seemed to have a bit of a spark yourselves.” Her landlady was given to exaggeration. Showing interest in Tucker or in any other man would be putting the cart before the horse. First, a career. Then she’d decide whether or not to add a man to her plans.
Tucker pinched the crown of his flat-brimmed hat and removed it from his head. “You clean up quite nicely, Miss Sinclair.”
Ida felt her cheeks blush. So far, flying hatpins and muddy clothes seemed to characterize her meetings with Tucker. No sparks had been involved. “Thank you. Amazing the difference a day makes.”
“All the difference in the world.” The monotone she’d heard in Tucker’s voice at Miss Hattie’s had returned. One minute he was all fists, ready to protect her from a harmless old man, and the next he seemed hidden behind a cloud.
Ida considered walking away, but this man stirred her curiosity. She crossed and uncrossed her arms. “So did He tell you?”
“Who?” Tucker glanced behind him.
“You asked God what He’s doing. Did He tell you?”
“Not yet.” Perfectly masculine brows hooked over his eyes as he squinted at her. “Unless you’re part of an answer.”
“Me?” Her voice jumped a full octave. The man was as unpredictable as a summer snowstorm. She believed in God, even talked to Him most every night as a sort of benediction on her day, but she wasn’t likely to be anyone’s answer to prayer. She couldn’t do anything for a man running an ice business for a sick father.
“It’d be nice if He’d at least hint at His purposes.”
His purposes. Tucker spoke about God in such a personal manner. No, Tucker Raines was nothing like Bradley Ditmer or the miners. Nothing like Mr. Wagner from the train either. Tucker seemed to carry a trace of vulnerability as comfortably as he did confidence, a combination Ida found intriguing—all the more reason to steer clear of him.
She looked down at his boots as if the act would move her own feet in the opposite direction. The ice man had cleaned his boots since their encounter at the depot.
“I had a meeting at the bank,” he said.
“I had a job interview and I—”
“Found employment?”
Feeling the excitement of her new job afresh, Ida smiled and nodded.
“Here I’ve been babbling while you have cause for celebration.” He looked her square in the eye. “You have to let me buy you a cup of coffee.”
She didn’t exactly gasp, but she did feel her mouth drop open. She glanced up the hill. “I can’t. My sisters are expecting me at Miss Hattie’s.”
“Of course. I understand.” His voice was steady without a hint of disappointment. In fact, he looked relieved she’d declined. Perhaps he’d also surprised himself with the invitation. Given Tucker’s situation with his folks and returning to run the family business, he no doubt also needed to remain focused.
So they were curious about one another. Curiosity didn’t comprise a spark. Soon they’d each go their own ways, entrenched in their efforts to thrive here in Cripple Creek—Colorado’s city of opportunity.
“Let me at least walk you up the hill.”
As soon as Ida nodded, Tucker set his hat back on his head and presented his arm. He guided her across Bennett Avenue and up Third Street, which soon turned into Hayden. She enjoyed the easiness of his company, but she suddenly realized that agreeing to let Tucker walk her to the boardinghouse hadn’t been a wise choice.
Clearing her throat, she stopped at the corner of Golden Avenue. “I appreciate your company, Mr. Raines, but you needn’t go out of your way any further.”
“Another thirty feet is hardly out of my way.”
Ida drew in a deep breath. If the man knew about the master matchmaker and her two elves, he too would be concerned about being seen with her. Not that he would be susceptible or interested, as he obviously had his work cut out for him seeing to
family matters. Still, there was no need for either of them to suffer embarrassment because of her sisters’ or her landlady’s good, but misguided, intentions.
“Very well.” His gaze seemed to linger. “Have a good visit with your sisters, and best wishes in your new job.”
“Thank you.” Ida turned away and walked up the block toward Hattie’s. About halfway to the yellow house on the right, she glanced back toward the corner.
A mistake.
Tucker still stood there, watching her. His wave was too warm and his smile too bright. He could easily become a distraction.
She couldn’t give him that chance.
Ida focused on the sunflowers that beamed from the planters in front of Hattie’s house and climbed the porch steps to the door. When she twisted the doorknob, someone else was doing the same thing on the other side. As soon as she let go, the door opened, and Faith, the schoolteacher who rented a room down the hallway from her, stared up at her.
“I’m sorry. I was trying to help.” Faith’s small smile was the perfect accompaniment for her soft voice.
“No need to apologize.” Something the young woman did far too often. Ida stepped inside, expecting to see her sisters, to hear the phonograph playing in the parlor. “Kat and Nell aren’t here yet?”
“Yes. We’ve been waiting for you in the kitchen.”
Ida caught a whiff of something sweet and cinnamon. She sniffed the air as she followed Faith Dunsmuir down the hallway and through the dining room. “Apple pie?”
Faith nodded, setting her midnight-colored ponytail bobbing. “Four apple pies. Miss Hattie can’t be still when there’s waiting to be done.”
“I do love autumn.” Ida followed the timid schoolteacher into the kitchen. Kat sat at the table, snapping string beans and dropping them into a kettle, while Nell pulled a pie from the oven and Hattie slid another one in.
Her landlady wiped her hands on her paisley-print apron. “I was beginning to think we might have to go pry you out of the stenography office.”
“Miss O’Bryan had someone else with her when I arrived so we were late starting the interview.” Ida kept the names of the men to blame for her delay to herself as she crossed the room and sat down between Kat and Faith.
Kat snapped the ends off a bean and dropped it into the kettle. She looked pale, and her eyes a bit dull.
Before Ida could open her mouth to inquire as to her sister’s dreary countenance, Kat met her gaze and shook her head ever so slightly as if to say, Don’t ask.
“How did your interview with Miss O’Bryan go?” Nell set a teapot on the table in front of Ida.
“Well …” After waiting a moment for full effect, Ida clasped her hands. “The job is mine. I start in the morning.”
Hattie, Nell, and Faith erupted with congratulations.
“That’s good news,” Kat said, but she didn’t seem able to rise to the others’ level of excitement.
“Kat?” Ida reached for her arm. “Are you sick?”
“Oh dear. We can’t have that.” Hattie wiped her hands on her apron, then laid the back of her hand against Kat’s forehead.
“I’m fine.” Kat drew in a deep breath and stared at the kettle of raw beans in front of her. “I mean I’m not sick. I am, apparently, quite pregnant.”
“Oh my stars!” Hattie clapped as she plopped down into a chair beside Kat. “What wonderful news!”
Ida reached for Kat’s hands and squeezed them. “You’re going to be a mother, and that makes me an aunt. Hattie’s right—that’s wonderful news.”
Nell nodded, her blue eyes glistening with tears.
A frown claimed Kat’s face as she looked across the table at Nell. “I’m sorry.” Her mysterious apology came out on a sigh.
Nell splayed her fingers across her mouth and darted out of the room.
Ida stood, watching her sister flee, and then spun back toward Kat. “What was that all about?”
“Nell is the one who wanted a baby.”
“And you don’t?”
“Of course she does.” Miss Hattie rose from her chair. “Babies are a gift from God.”
Kat pressed her hand to her abdomen. “I do, but—”
“Morgan’s not happy about the baby?” Perhaps her brother-in-law wasn’t so likeable after all.
“He says he is, but, you know, Morgan lost a son in childbirth … his wife too.” The last words came out on a whisper.
“I’m sorry,” Ida said. “I’d forgotten.”
“But that scene with Nell wasn’t about me. She hasn’t conceived yet. And I did.”
Whatever was Nell worried about that for? She’d only been married a handful of months, and as far as Ida was concerned, it was better to wait awhile before the added responsibility of a child.
“I should go talk to her.” Kat gingerly rose from the wooden chair.
Ida waved her back down. “I’ll go.”
Kat’s eyebrows arched in concern. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be the one to talk to her about this. That particular big-sister look in your eye tells me you don’t understand her reaction.”
“I can be understanding.”
“You go on ahead, Ida.” Hattie pulled an oak tray from the cupboard. “Kat and I will gather the teacups and bring them into the parlor. I’m sure that’s where she’s gone.”
When Ida arrived in the parlor, Nell stood in front of the mantel, face to face with the clock. “Are you all right?” Ida asked.
Sniffling, Nell nodded and turned toward Ida, swiping at the tears rolling down her blotchy cheeks. “Of all the times not to have a handkerchief with me.”
Ida pulled a handkerchief out of the pocket on her skirt and handed it to her. “You have plenty of time to have a baby, Sis.”
“I know.” Nell drew in a deep, shuddering breath and dabbed her eyes. “I can’t believe I ran out of the kitchen like that. You all must think I’m a baby myself.”
“Kat understands.”
“But you don’t understand, do you?” Nell asked.
Ida pressed her lips together and slowly shook her head. She didn’t know what it meant to love a man so much that she’d want to set her ambition aside to marry him and have his child. But she didn’t have to understand to be understanding.
Nell giggled—a sweet sound. “Don’t feel bad. I don’t either. Judson and I only married four months ago. It’s not like we’re going to be childless like poor Miss Hattie and her George. She never could bear children.”
A gasp and clanging cups drew their attention to the doorway, where Miss Hattie steadied the tea tray in Kat’s hands.
Fresh tears flowed down Nell’s face. “I didn’t mean … What’s the matter with me? I’m such a mess.”
“Yes, you are, dear.” Miss Hattie approached Nell and reached for her hand. “Love and longing can do that to a person. But there’s no reason to feel bad about what you said. It’s true that God chose to bless George and me with the care of other people’s children—most of them grown—rather than with our own.” A warm smile lit her silver eyes.
It seemed God had gifted the landlady with an uncanny way of mothering despite her barren womb. Ida took the tray from Kat and carried it across the room.
“Thank you, Miss Hattie.” Nell drew the gracious woman into an embrace then faced Kat. “I am the most selfish person on God’s green earth. But you have to know that I really am excited to be Auntie Nell.”
“I know you are.” Kat hugged Nell.
“Are you and Morgan all right?”
“We haven’t talked about that part of it yet.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, Kat.” Ida set the tray on the sofa table while the others seated themselves. “I may not be qualified to offer marital advice, but—”
“But that’s not going to stop you.” A smile tipped Kat’s mouth to one side.
“You do know me well, don’t you?” Ida sat on the sofa beside Kat. “And I know you. You won’t rest until you’ve expressed your feelings.
None of us are good at holding in our emotions.”
“Ida’s right.” Her voice strong again, Nell handed Kat a teacup. “Granted, you needn’t be as transparent as I am, but if you don’t voice your concerns, they’ll fester and your health will suffer.”
Ida warmed her hands on her cup. She was right, wasn’t she? She hoped so. She truly wasn’t qualified to counsel either of her Cripple Creek sisters on the finer points—or on any points—having to do with marriage.
Business was her ally. Love and marriage, her foe.
TWELVE
hursday morning Ida relished the warmth of the sun on her back as she strolled down Third Street toward Bennett Avenue. She’d chosen to wear a burgundy skirt with a white shirtwaist for her first day of work. She’d pinned her hair up in a French twist and donned a new pair of calfskin shoes. She only hoped she was ready in Miss Mollie O’Bryan’s way of thinking.
She’d drunk a hefty helping of bicarbonate soda to settle her stomach. Still, bees seemed to buzz about inside her. It would help if she could shut off the memory of yesterday’s interview. Of Miss O’Bryan’s battle with Colin Wagner. Of her leaning in toward Ida, close enough that Ida could smell the scent of her lavender bath soap, and asking why she wanted to work for her. Ida shook her head to rid herself of the intimidating image. She could do this.
Turning the corner at the Imperial Hotel, she stepped up onto the boardwalk at Bennett Avenue and drew in a deep breath. This morning she was stepping into her future as a businesswoman. This was the day she’d prove the Bradley Ditmers of the world wrong.
At First Street, she pulled her mother’s pendant watch from her reticule. It was 8:50. Ten minutes early was her norm. She returned the watch to its protected place and crossed the street to the narrow brick building two doors down from the corner.
Moistening her lips, Ida breathed a prayer for grace and wit, then reached for the doorknob, which didn’t give in the least. She’d beat her employee to work and the door was locked.
Ida turned around just in time to see a familiar man and his mule stop in front of the building.
Mona Hodgson Page 8
