by Zina Abbott
HAUNTED BY LOVE
Eastern Sierra Brides 1884 Book 4
By Zina Abbott
Haunted by Love by Zina Abbott
Copyright© 2016 Robyn Echols aka Zina Abbott
Cover Design Livia Reasoner
Prairie Rose Publications
www.prairierosepublications.com
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. However, among the minor characters in this work, the author did include the names and occupations of some real people who lived in Bridgeport and Lundy, California in the year 1884. These include in Bridgeport, Hiram L. Leavitt and his wife Eliza Leavitt, owners of the Leavitt House; C. Sinclair, physician; and E.A. Trask, livery stable keeper. In Lundy, William O. Lundy, one of the earliest residents of Mill Creek Canyon, saw mill owner who provided lumber for Bodie, he later built the May Lundy Hotel and was Homer Mining District Recorder; Rodney G. Montrose, lumberman and saw mill owner; Henry Martin, owner of the Pioneer Shingle Mill; Charley Hector, owner of the Bodie to Lundy Stagecoach and Livery; and in Lundy and Lee Vining, William Woodruff, shingle mill and saw mill owner. The manner in which these characters are portrayed in this novel is in no way intended to resemble the personalities or characteristics of those who actually lived in Mono County at that time.
All other characters in Haunted by Love are strictly figments of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to real people, past or present, are purely coincidental.
OHIO – October 1884
CHAPTER 1
Agnes Dodd narrowed her eyes with suspicion as she walked in the door. She spied her husband leaning back in his chair by the fireplace while he watched the girls setting the table for dinner. Only she noticed that, as usual, he showed no interest in his own two daughters. Instead, his gaze was focused on Hazel Jessup, the sister of the headstrong wife her no-good nephew had dumped on her two years ago before he once again disappeared into the mountains of California and Nevada, this time with her son, Darren. Darren, thank goodness, had settled into a steady job in Carson City. But Jim Dodd had once again continued searching for the fortune in gold that invariably eluded his grasp.
Perhaps that was not entirely true. The first time he left for Nevada, he made enough to return to Ohio and purchase a farm several counties over. Only, part of the payment had included marrying the former owner’s older daughter and paying for the care of the younger one until she was old enough to marry. As usual, her no-account nephew had not proved to be reliable. As soon as the girls’ old man died, he sold the farm and brought the pregnant wife and younger sister to Agnes to look out for with the promise he would return within the year to claim them.
Fool that I was to believe the scoundrel. But, the year of room and board he paid me looked good at the time.
But now, two years had passed. When the first year was up, and neither her nephew nor any additional funds had been forthcoming, she sent the oldest girl on her way. For one thing, Agnes could hardly abide the woman. She suspected she had money tucked away somewhere, but the girl was tight-lipped, insisting her husband had all the money. Besides, unlike her younger sister, her nephew’s wife was too headstrong and far from biddable.
Good riddance, that one.
Agnes had done her Christian duty and let young Hazel stay. She had given the older sister a year to find Jim Dodd and make arrangements to send for Hazel. The year was up. Her nephew was dead. The girl was still here.
Agnes had intercepted the letters sent to Hazel, so she knew Hazel’s sister planned to come sometime in the next month or two to collect her. In the meantime, the girl ate their food, and, being the beauty she had grown into being with the delightful personality she possessed, had attracted the attention of the young men in the community that Agnes needed to be directed toward her own daughters.
At least the girl was quite talented with the needle, and had become proficient on Agnes’s sewing machine. Agnes had put her to work making clothes for the family. Agnes felt a surge of smugness well up inside her at the thought she had even proven her generosity by purchasing a length of muslin so the girl could make a new dress to replace the two she had outgrown.
If Hazel wants a wool dress for winter, her sister can buy the fabric.
Then there was the issue of the attention the oblivious young woman received from Agnes’s own husband. He might insist that he was watching all the girls, but Agnes had been around enough years to know a thing or two about men. Her husband, the old lecher, had lust in his eyes. Agnes needed to get Hazel out of the house and on her way to California before her husband weakened and decided to act upon his desires.
It had been the last letter to Hazel that had let Agnes know the probate judge in California had settled her nephew’s estate. Due to the crazy laws in California allowing women to inherit half of the property their deceased husbands gained during their marriage, the widow had received the lion’s share of the money. What had been left after expenses was sent to Agnes’s other nephew. Even the comment intended for Hazel’s eyes that her sister felt bad that Agnes had not submitted a claim to the estate for Hazel’s care the past year had sent Agnes into a rage. How could she submit a claim for a year’s room and board for Hazel if she knew nothing about it?
Agnes had fired off a letter to Judge Bates who had handled the contract matter between her nephew and the girls’ father. The response was that, yes, he had sent a letter with instructions on how to submit a timely claim to her nephew’s estate. That led her to search her husband’s desk where she found the unopened letter from Judge Bates buried in a pile of unfinished paperwork. It contained instructions for filing a claim against the estate.
Which is why some men have no business taking care of business.
That same letter to Hazel had conveyed the California probate judge’s opinion that if Agnes wanted to be paid for the year of caring for Hazel, she needed to get the money from the living nephew who had received the windfall inheritance.
And that was exactly what Agnes had been about. She had gone to see her other nephew who was far from pleased to see her, and was loathe to part with the money he had received from his brother’s estate. It was only when Agnes had threatened to dump Hazel off on him to support until someone came to collect her, plus hire a lawyer to take legal action against him for the year’s worth of room and board along with the expenses for Hazel, that her nephew had settled. Of course, his young wife did not want pretty Hazel Jessup living under her roof. She encouraged her husband to make peace with his aunt.
Agnes had not gotten everything she wanted, but it was good enough. She collected six months of room and board plus the cost of fabric for one dress for Hazel. She also collected enough to cover a one-way train ticket, stagecoach tickets, plus food and lodging for Hazel to travel to her sister in California.
Back in town, gossip had led her to the Sweeneys’ doorstep, an added bonus. The couple had made arrangements to leave in two days time to travel to San Francisco to visit their son and his family, including two grandchildren they had never seen. They agreed to chaperone Hazel as far as Reno. Hopefully, the telegram she would have the Sweeneys send in Omaha would lure that witch of a sister up to Reno to collect her. If not, Agnes would ask her son to help get Hazel on the right stagecoach to take her south to her sister’s home up in some ho
le-in-the-mountain town named Lundy, where they had buried her reprobate of a nephew.
At least no one can accuse me of sending the girl out into the world without an escort.
Agnes moved to the kitchen to help the girls set the food on the table so they could all sit down to supper. She glanced over at her husband’s face, void of expression except for his eyes, which followed Hazel Jessup’s every move.
Can’t get that girl out of my house fast enough.
BRIDGEPORT, CALIFORNIA – October 1884
CHAPTER 2
Luther Caldwell folded his arms and huddled in his heavy wool jacket as through the double-wide doors of the livery he studied the sheets of rain pouring down. Looking toward the Sierra-Nevada Mountains to the west, he saw no sign of a break in the slate gray clouds overhead. He and his brother, Val, had intended for this to be their last trip up to Lundy in Mill Creek Canyon with supplies for Charley Hector’s Bodie to Lundy Stagecoach and Livery. But, studying the rain and the rivulets of water turning the road into a quagmire, Luther wondered if he would even be able to get the loaded wagon back to the Caldwell ranch where he would pick up his brother for the long haul up the canyon.
Then again, Luther speculated, it might be their last shipment, ever, to Charley if the man followed through on his threat to close down his stage line. The trickle of miners leaving Lundy after the closure of the May Lundy Mine had turned into a deluge, leaving the town with an even smaller population than usual. Not only had wages dried up, so had businesses. People grew less and less able to pay for goods and services. More and more, Charley had no riders, with only the mail and maybe some small freight to carry from Bodie to Lundy.
Lundy is getting ready to go the way of all gold and silver mining towns—bust. Beth got out of there just in time.
Beth Dodd was Val’s fiancée, although to Luther’s way of thinking, Val should have insisted the woman marry him long before this. Something about needing to go back east and collect her little sister kept her putting his brother off. Even though Val had offered to give her the travel money, or go with her as part of a honeymoon trip, she insisted on taking care of her own responsibilities by herself rather than act the part of a helpless female who must rely on a man.
Stubborn female is what she is. But Val loves her.
The thought crossed his mind that maybe Beth’s former employer up there, Gus Herschel, and his wife might not be earning enough to stay in Lundy over the winter. Gus had the chop shop, a popular eatery behind the Arcade Saloon. Beth had baked for Gus, then taught Louisa, a new mother she had rescued from a local brothel, how to bake. Now that Gus and Louisa were married, Louisa did all of the baking.
Does a pretty good job, too. Almost as good as Beth.
One thing Beth had convinced Val to do was to offer Gus a job as a cook for the Caldwell crew over the winter until Gus decided where he wanted to go to set up a new eatery. Even though it was getting late in the season to butcher, it would also give Gus a place to make and age his bratwurst so many of the men were particularly fond of. If Gus could get enough made, he could probably make good money selling them beyond the ranch. Beth even offered to put up a smokehouse on her land, but Val put a stop to that. He reminded her the Caldwell ranch already had a perfectly good smokehouse for Gus to use.
Luther had to admit having Gus and Louisa Herschel come to the ranch would solve several problems. For one thing, ever since his sister Barbara had married and moved away with her husband, the ranch hadn’t had a cook—not for the main house or for the bunkhouse. Neither Val nor Luther cooked. Any man they tried to hire as a cook ended up leaving within weeks at the first rumor of the latest gold or silver strike. The men who did stay on the ranch hated to cook, but muddled through the best they could. But even something as simple as biscuits often ended up either doughy or burnt black as charcoal.
Right now, Val had Beth preparing cast iron pot dishes and baking bread and pies to take to the crew in exchange for the supplies and work around her homestead because the stubborn woman wouldn’t allow her intended to help her without compensation. But, it would be handy to have a cook and baker at the ranch full-time over the winter when the deep snow between the ranch and Beth’s homestead along Robinson Creek made travel more difficult.
Besides, once Beth brought her little sister out from Ohio in the next month or so, and Beth and Val married, hopefully Val would be able to convince her she had more important matters to see to than cooking and baking for a bunch of ranch hands.
“You figure those mules of yours will still be able to pull this load up the canyon with all this rain?”
Luther turned toward Trask who had walked up next to him. In addition to being the livery stable keeper, he ran a small feed store in the back.
“Oh, yeah. But I’m not sure I want to be out in the rain if I don’t have to. The last thing Charley needs is a bunch of damp feed turning moldy and sour and full of sprouts.”
“Ahh, you cover it good with a heavy oiled canvas tied down tight and you’ll be all right.”
“I still think I’ll wait until morning and hope the rain lets up.”
“You planning to get a room over at Leavitt’s, then?”
Luther barked a laugh. “No, I figured I’d stay here as your guest. While you were still helping your last customer I moseyed on over to see Hiram. With this bad weather he’s about filled up, and the late stage from Carson City hasn’t come in yet.”
“Maybe they decided to delay a day due to the weather.”
“No, Hiram said he got a call from the hotel next to the stage depot. They got a late start, but they’re on their way with five people needing three rooms. I would think if they stopped along the road for the night they would at least try to send a telegram or call.”
“Well, you’re welcome to bunk down here if you can’t get a room at the Leavitt House. Maybe you can cuddle up to one of your mules to stay warm.”
Both men chuckled at the suggestion.
“I suppose I could,” Luther drawled, “seeing as how I haven’t found the right woman yet to marry and keep me warm, although I usually prefer the hayloft. Besides, we always bunk at Charley’s livery when we’re up at Lundy, so I’m used to it. I was supposed to be at the ranch tonight so Val and I could leave at first light. Wish there was a way to let him know I won’t be home until tomorrow.”
“That reminds me. How come you’re the one picking up the order? It seems like Val usually gets together a shipment for Lundy.”
Luther laughed and slapped his thigh. “That’s because Val’s fiancée used to live up in Lundy and he looked for every opportunity he could find to go up there to visit with her. Last month she moved down on her homestead along Robinson Creek. Want to take a guess where he is now?”
Trask chuckled and shook his head. “Ah, yes, the capable and indomitable Widow Dodd. She was in here a couple of days ago putting in her order for chicken feed and the different chicken breeds she wants come spring. I guess she plans to keep separate runs and raise some for eggs, some for meat and some for feathers. Something like that.”
“Yep, Beth Dodd loves her chickens. Last week we had a small barn-raising for her along with setting up a bunkhouse. Val persuaded her she needs to hire someone to look after her place during those times she’s with him at our ranch. But we also ended up doing a chicken coop-raising. Eggs and poultry along with her baking is how she plans to pay for improvements to her land.”
“Seems to me Val could help her with that.”
“She won’t have it. I imagine Val is going to end up spending a lot of time there even after they get married. But, when it comes to improving her own property toward getting the patent on it, she insists on paying for everything herself.”
Trask pursed his lips, deciding against expressing his opinion of independent women.
“So, how do you get along with your future sister-in-law?”
“I like her, although we mix about as well as hot grease and water, her being
the hot grease. But, as long as Val’s happy with her, it’s fine. And, you know me. I get my digs in with her any chance I get.”
Trask snickered. He knew about Luther’s kidding around and practical jokes.
“Well, Luther, it sure would be handy if you had one of those telephones there at the ranch and one at her place. How come Val won’t put one in? You Caldwells are well enough off you can afford them. That way, he could check on her without riding over there, and you could give her a ration anytime you want. Both you boys and the future Mrs. Caldwell could call Hiram to have him tell me you’re coming in for an order.”
“I think it will be awhile before Beth will agree to install a telephone. And, even if we get one at the ranch, Hiram won’t want to be our errand boy. Besides, it isn’t Val that’s against a telephone at the ranch. It’s our older brother Edwin who’s against it—says it will cost too much to run a line out to the house. But, you can bet he has a telephone in both his house and law office up there in Sacramento.”
Luther clamped his mouth shut and, with his arms still folded, rocked heel to toe rather than say anything further on the subject.
Trask shook his head, but had enough sense to not comment about Edwin Caldwell. Although the man had been gone from the Bridgeport area for over twenty years—ever since he left for college—he was still a part-owner in the Caldwell ranch run by Val and Luther. As the oldest brother and the one tasked by their late father with taking care of the legal obligations of the ranch, he held fairly tight reins over the decisions concerning the property. The old-timers in Bridgeport knew about Edwin Caldwell, and generally didn’t think well of him. But, they didn’t hold their low opinion of the oldest Caldwell son against his half-siblings, Val, Barbara, and Luther.
Luther studied the rain that appeared to be letting up some. “I think I’ll run over to the telegraph office and send a wire up to let Charley we’ll be a day later than planned.”
