One thing was for sure. They needed more help to run this house as it should be, Ida announced early one morning. Saving them the trouble of going out looking for an ambitious soul, a widow lady named Helen Pelfry, who lved near the edge of town, stopped by seeking work. They gladly hired her on to keep house and help with the ever-increasing stacks of laundry the men carted down the stairs twice a week.
Jennifer stretched clotheslines across the yard, between four trees, where they hung countless sheets and shirts and stockings, until they had to increase their supply of clothes-pins from the general store.
She was proud. Their reputation was growing by leaps and bounds and even though some of the men were not as well mannered as she’d have liked and tended to leave their rooms in complete disarray, she soon solved that problem.
One day at the supper table she read from a list she and Ida had composed, designating several forms of behavior as unsuitable for their establishment. The rule regarding using silverware instead of their fingers brought grumbles from two men, but Jennifer’s raised brow, and a subtle reminder that the waiting list for rooms was long, soon solved that problem.
Keeping their room in decent order met with groans from three others, and Jennifer held up a hand for silence. “I expect to be able to get in your rooms in order to make the bed in the mornings without tripping over your clothing,” she said. “You each have a basket to keep your soiled things in. Use it.”
There was no more said on that matter, except for Cole Weston, who spoke up without hesitation. “I’m not takin’ a chance of bein’ booted outta here on my ear, ma’am. I’ll do better.”
Since he was not one of the culprits Jennifer and Ida had had in mind when they’d composed the rules, he was granted a smile of conspiracy as Jennifer recognized his subtle support of her edicts. “Thank you, Mr. Weston.”
Her nod and smile were received with a quirk of his lips and he settled down to eat with gusto.
It was that evening that another miner came to the door, just as the supper dishes were being put away. “Ma’am?” He stood politely on the back stoop, looking in at Ida, who’d answered his knock. “I understand y’all are renting rooms and providing meals for some of the miners. Is there room for one more? I’m willing to pay more than the going rate for a clean bed and good food.”
“We’re out of space, sir,” Ida told him. “The only way you can get accommodations here is if we start putting two in a room, and that’ll fill our dining room to overflowing.”
“Do you suppose you could ask a couple of your boarders if they’d bunk together. Maybe you could give them a cut rate to share a room.”
“Are you willing to share?” Ida was trying her best to be obliging, not willing to turn away a man with money to spend, especially one as clean and well-spoken as this specimen of manhood.
“I’d rather not, ma’am.” His voice softened and he leaned forward a bit. “I snore pretty bad, and I’m afraid most all the fellas know it already. I’d probably have a hard time finding a roommate.”
“What’s going on, Ida?” Jennifer approached and the miner smiled and looked at her with interest.
“Gentleman wants to rent a room, if we can get a couple of the other men to share and make room for him.” Ida turned and grinned. “He’s willing to pay more than the going rate if we can fit him in.”
“What’s your name, sir?” Jennifer asked, in her thoughts already counting his cash.
“Alexander Stone.”
“You’re a miner?” Somehow he was too clean to have been grubbing in the dirt all day, she thought.
“Yes, ma’am. I sure am. My partner let me leave early when he found out I was coming to town to find better accommodations than a leaky tent. I stopped at Sally Jo’s place and got a bath and shave before I stopped by here.”
No wonder he looked clean. Jennifer thought for a moment. “Let us ask at the breakfast table and see if a couple of the men are willing to share if they can get a break on their fees. Come back tomorrow and we’ll let you know. But just don’t say anything about it to any of the other men. We already have a long list of those waiting for a vacancy.”
Alexander Stone nodded and stepped down off the stoop, and Jennifer closed the door, then leaned against it. “Wouldn’t you think other folks in town would be willing to rent rooms? There’s more men with money here than I’ve ever seen in one place in my life.”
Ida shrugged. “There’s a lot of work involved and some women aren’t interested in doing any more than they’re already obliged to, taking care of their own families.”
“Well, we’ll see how it goes.” And somehow, she hoped it would go well, that there would be at least two men willing to share a room. Mr. Stone seemed to be a gentleman, and heaven above knew they could use a couple more men with the sort of qualities the man appeared to display.
HIS PARTNER RODE UP to the claim two days later and Lucas stood, his hat brim pulled down to shade his eyes as he caught sight of him. “Any luck?”
Sandy smiled and Lucas thought once more that it had been somewhat like sending a fox into the henhouse, pulling this bit of subterfuge.
“I always do what I set out to,” the man said. “You’ve got a room on the second floor, number three is painted on the door, and here’s how you get into it.” Sandy held out a large key and as Lucas would have snatched it from his hand, Sandy slipped it into his pocket.
“First you pay me the rent for your room for the first month, the money for your laundry being done, and an extra dollar for your dinner being provided every day.”
“You didn’t tell her—”
“Hell, no, I didn’t tell her I was renting it for you, Luc. You think I’m daft? I’m just wondering what’s going to happen when they find out they’ve been tricked. I’ll bet that girl will throw a hissy fit.”
“Won’t be the first time,” Lucas said dryly. “She’s real good at speaking her mind.” He grinned, thinking of Jennifer and the look of surprise she’d wear when he showed up, key in hand, and then moved in, bag and baggage.
“Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be glad to move in there myself. Sure did smell good in that kitchen, and that woman of yours is a pretty little thing, isn’t she?”
“Don’t bother even looking, Sandy. She belongs to me.”
“Funny way to run a marriage if you ask me, Luc. Her in town and you at the farm.”
“Don’t worry about it. Things will be back on an even keel before you know it. I’ve got some plans in the works.”
THE RIDE from his mine into town would be wearisome on a daily basis, but the comfortable bed at the end of the trail and the thought of Jennifer’s face when she realized who her newest boarder would be made it worthwhile in his sight. Lucas grinned as he rode to the livery stable and made arrangements for his gelding to be fed and kept in a stall overnight each day for the foreseeable future.
“Not a problem,” he was told. His pack was heavy, but he barely noticed the weight as he walked down the street to the big house next to the parsonage. The house where Jennifer and Ida Bronson had set up their business.
The idea of his inept bride cooking for a multitude of men and keeping a three-story house clean was almost funny, he decided. And yet she’d proved to be a ready pupil, according to Ida. Maybe Jen had a knack for cooking and cleaning that had been buried beneath that incapable but impeccable aura she’d exuded from the beginning.
He’d soon find out. Scorning the two steps, he grasped the porch rail and his long legs made short work of the long porch, the swing catching his eye as he scanned the length of the comfortable-looking area. He knocked on the back door, having been told by several of the men that the miners were to use the back door and that leaving their boots in the entryway was a hard and fast rule, one they took to heart. It seemed that hot meals made a man willing to capitulate to the decrees of the ladies in charge of this house.
The door swung open as he was about to repeat his knock and Ida stared
into his eyes, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
“It’s only me, Ida. I’m your new boarder.”
“How? When? Oh, my, Lucas. You’re in for a heap of trouble when Jennifer gets a look at you here.”
“I have my room key,” he said, flashing it in front of her. “Also a receipt, signed by Jennifer, for the first month’s rent.”
Ida looked at the paper he flourished and shook her head. “This is made out to a fella named Alexander Stone. Last I heard, your name wasn’t Stone.”
“He rented it on my behalf, but I’ve paid him what cash he used for my benefit and the room is mine for a month. I’m sure the sheriff would agree, if he were to be asked his opinion.”
“You may be right there, but I know a young woman who’s going to make your life miserable if you move in here. Or else you’ll give her such a hard time she’ll leave me holding the bag while she makes tracks for New York City. Either way, I’m not going to be happy with the outcome.”
“Don’t worry, ma’am. I only want to put my marriage back on an even keel. I want Jen in my life, as my wife.”
“In your life? Or in your bed?” Ida’s cheeks burned as she spoke the words without forethought. “Sorry,” she murmured, “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Lucas grinned. “I think you’ve got the whole thing all figured out. Having Jen in my life sorta puts her back in my bed, don’t you think?”
“Well, I wouldn’t count on that happening right off. She’s not real happy with you, Luc.”
He sobered. “I know, but I’m going to fix that.”
Behind Ida, the kitchen door leading to the hallway burst open and Jennifer made her way across the kitchen floor. “I’ll talk to him,” she told Mrs. Bronson. “You go ahead with whatever you were doing.”
“Just frying the last pan of chicken. And then you need to be mashing the potatoes and getting the biscuits out of the oven while I make the gravy.” She looked at Luc. “Your wife has become quite a hand at cooking lately.”
“So I’ve heard.” He dropped his heavy pack on the floor and crossed his arms across his chest. “I came to judge for myself.” And wasn’t that a stupid thing to say? Almost guaranteed to rile her out of her composure.
It did. “You’re not welcome here, Lucas.”
“I have a key to room three and a signed receipt.”
“Where’d you get them from? The last room I rented was to Alexander Stone.”
“That’s my partner, Sandy. He came here representing me, and took the room for me. I was pretty tied up at the mine.”
“Well, you can just go back to the mine,” Jennifer told him. “You don’t have a room in our house.”
“Ah, but I do,” he said. “And if I have to, I’ll go get the sheriff to prove the point.”
Jennifer looked him with blue eyes that shimmered. Not with tears, he hoped, for he didn’t think he could deal with her in a crying mood. “Jen, I want to live where you do, eat at the table with you and if I can’t do it back at the farmhouse, I’ll do it here.”
“That’s all you want?” She looked doubtful, he thought, and he didn’t blame her.
“For now,” he said, modifying his aim a bit.
“I don’t want any trouble, Lucas. You can stay here, but only because I’m afraid the sheriff would side with you, and I don’t want my other boarders to be wondering about our ethics. I’ll admit I rented the room to Alexander Stone in good faith. But the man didn’t tell me he was representing someone else.”
“It’s a common way to do business here,” Ida said from where she stood at the stove. “Lots of the miners have a legal representative, and if two men are partners, they’re each allowed to speak for the other.”
“Come on in, then.” Jennifer looked like a cloud about to drop its contents over his head, but she spoke nicely. “Your room is at the top of the stairs, right across—” She broke off and he watched as a look of fear touched her eyes.
“I’m not here to demand anything of you, Jen.” He picked up his pack and chanced another glance in her direction. “I just want to be where you are.”
Her jaw tightened and her cheeks were pale, bloodless it seemed. “Supper will be on the table in fifteen minutes. Don’t be late or you might not find much left over.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
LUCAS MOVED IN. Toting his pack up the stairs, he glanced toward the top of the long flight to see Jennifer watching him. She stood in a doorway just across from the room designated as number three, and he could not resist giving birth to the smile that curved his lips upward.
“Right across the hall, Jen?”
Again she looked like a thundercloud just awaiting the right moment to dump her load of rain on his head, and he reached the top of the stairs before she spoke.
“Not my choice, Lucas. That I’ll guarantee you.”
“I believe you.” He nudged open his door with his shoulder and walked inside. He’d felt safe in leaving it ajar after his first scant inspection of the premises, and had gone to get his belongings in anticipation of a good night’s sleep. Now he wondered just how much sleep he’d get, his own bed just twelve feet or so from Jen’s, with but two walls between them.
As if she read his mind, she tilted her chin upward and followed him to the doorway of his room. “My room is locked at night, and Susan is a light sleeper. Not to mention that the dog sleeps in there with us. Don’t be thinking about visiting me.”
“Wouldn’t even suggest such a thing,” he said, grinning, even as he spoke the lie. For it was exactly what he’d thought, right off.
“You’ve managed to insinuate yourself into this place, Lucas, but that’s as far as it goes. Our marriage is over. I won’t go home with you, and I won’t allow you any of the rights and privileges of a husband while you’re living here in my house. I hope we have an understanding about that.”
He laughed. “You may have an understanding, Jen. But my plans are somewhat different. I’m your husband, no matter where we’re living. And you can be certain that every other man in this house will know how things stand by the time breakfast is over in the morning.”
“Don’t cause trouble for me, Lucas.”
He thought it sounded somewhat like a warning, and at the same time he heard it as a plea for his understanding. He preferred the warning.
“I’d like to cause a lot of things to happen where you’re concerned, Jen, but none of them add up to trouble.”
She stepped back from his doorway. “I hope you’ll find your room to be comfortable. Sleep well.” Giving him a final view of her backside, she opened the door opposite his and then closed it behind her. The urge to follow gripped him and he gritted his teeth against the compulsion he felt to snatch her up and keep her in his own bed until morning. The thought of a nightlong exploration of that lush set of curves and hollows made his mouth water, and he sat on the edge of his bed, fighting the arousal that would not be conquered.
“Soon, Jen. Soon.” The words were low, a whispered promise he had every intention of fulfilling.
LUCAS WAS RIGHT, she found. By the time the line of miners left the kitchen, lunch pails in hand, they were properly subdued, their eyes lowered as they thanked Jennifer for their lunches, complimented Ida on the breakfast she’d served, and then made their way out the back door.
Somehow, Lucas had let them know that Jennifer was his property, and as such was totally off limits to them. Since none of the men had ever been other than polite and appreciative of her efforts, she would not have realized Lucas’s effect on them, had they not failed to meet her eyes as they bid her a good day upon their departure.
At least two or three of the men were prone to ask about supper before they left in the morning, as if they relished the thought of good food during the drudgery of their days. Today was different. Lucas had instilled the fear of God in them. Except for Cole Weston, who seemed to be enjoying the sight of Lucas defending his territory.
“Don’t work
too hard, Miss Jennifer,” he said nicely, accepting his lunch pail from her hand. “Looks like you’ve got a load of washing to do.”
“Nothing more than we can handle, Mr. Weston.” She smiled up at him, aware that the man had eyes for her, that his interest was obvious to Lucas. And if a smile in Cole’s direction was enough to make Lucas squirm, she’d aim it at the handsome man daily.
Lucas appeared in front of her, his own hand outstretched. “Thank you for packing my sandwiches, ma’am,” he said. “I’ll be thinking of you when I eat them.”
“I’m sure you will.” The thought of layers of newspaper between slices of cold roast beef made her smile. She’d given him something to chew on, and his thoughts would not be kindly, she’d warrant.
The laundry went well, with Helen doing her share of scrubbing on the board. Jennifer hung countless pairs of trousers on the line, filled another with towels and pillowcases, and then placed the clothing in the parlor, spread over the furniture where the men could sort and find their own items of apparel. Had they marked their clothing in some way, she could have sorted them herself. As it was, the task was theirs and she knew from past weeks that they would not grumble.
And then she picked up a shirt she recognized, held it in front of her and imagined the body it would mold itself against sometime in the next few days. Lucas looked well in this shirt, she thought. The blue stripes matched his eyes. And with that thought, she dropped it to the sofa, as if the very fabric had burned her fingers.
“Something wrong?” Helen asked from across the room.
“No. Just got a case of the dropsy,” Jennifer answered, picking up the shirt and shaking it out before she folded it and placed it atop a pair of Lucas’s trousers. It seemed his clothing gravitated toward her hands, for she found that she recognized his things among the rest of the men’s without hesitation.
Stockings and smallclothes were stacked beside his trousers. Shirts were folded and placed on top and she stood back to view the results. None of the other clothing they’d sorted and folded resembled the neat piles she’d made of Lucas O’Reilly’s belongings.
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