“May I help you?” Bonnie asked. Earline, being above her, if only by half a rung, had never bought so much as a paper of pins in the mercantile.
“It’s all over town that you and Webb Hutcheson are secretly married!” Earline thundered, bearing down on Bonnie at such speed that Bonnie felt called upon to put the width of the counter between herself and her visitor.
“If it’s all over town, then it isn’t much of a secret,” Bonnie dared to say. She was annoyed at being accosted in such a manner, and in her own store, too.
“So it’s true?” demanded Earline, wrenching off her gloves as though to prepare for fisticuffs.
Bonnie didn’t know how to answer that. “Well—”
“Of course, the gossips are having a heyday, between that and the night you and Webb spent together over across the river!” Earline paused to draw a deep and shaky breath. “You’re messin’ around with my man, Bonnie McKutchen, and I don’t like it!”
“How can Webb be your man if he’s married to me?” Bonnie was careful to speak in a roundabout way to avoid saying right out that Webb was indeed her husband.
“I’ll tell you how he can be my man,” Earline hissed, bending forward so that her enormous breasts touched the counter and keeping her voice low. “He’s been sleeping in my bed for three years, that’s how he can be my man!”
Bonnie was shocked, although she supposed she shouldn’t have been. After all, Webb was a healthy, vital man and, as such, he had certain needs. Needs Bonnie had certainly never supplied. “Oh,” she said lamely.
“Thought you were all Webb needed, did you? Well, Angel, you were wrong. Now, maybe Northridge believes that you and my Webb are married, but I’ve got reason to think it’s Eli McKutchen that’s liftin’ your skirts, and I want to know the truth. Right now!”
Bonnie’s cheeks pounded with the hot color of outrage. “Get out of my store, you crude woman, before I throw you out!”
“That’s liable to be a tall order, Mrs. McKutchen, you being such a scrawny little thing!”
Bonnie was rounding the end of the counter, bent on showing Earline the error of her ways, when she caught sight of Eli standing just inside the door. He was grinning, and Bonnie knew then that he’d heard the worst of what Earline had said. She was so mortified that she stopped cold.
Earline, on the other hand, was decorum personified. She took her time putting her gloves back on and assessing Eli’s impressive frame. He was wearing the rough clothes of a working man, his shirt open almost to his midriff, and he still managed, damn him, to look like the refined New Yorker he was. “When you get tired of living at the hotel, Mr. McKutchen,” Earline said sweetly, “you come on down to my rooming house.” She cast one look back at Bonnie before adding, “All the comforts of home. I look after a man right and proper.”
Eli had stopped grinning, but a corner of his mouth twitched slightly and his eyes danced. “I’ll keep the offer in mind, ma’am,” he said, with a polite inclination of his head.
Satisfied, Earline swept past him and out the door, her nose high in the air.
“You do have a gift for making enemies, Mrs. Hutcheson,” Eli observed, when they were alone again.
Bonnie put both hands to her cheeks in a desperate attempt to cool them. “That hussy! She had her cap set for Webb, that’s all!”
Eli approached the counter, set his dinner box down with a thump and did his best to look pained at the state of modern morals. “Sounds like your secret husband is about as faithful to his vows as you are.”
Bonnie could hardly say that she had been “faithful” to Webb; Eli knew she hadn’t. Neither could she swear indignantly that Earline had been lying about her relationship with Mr. Hutcheson. It was all a terrible mess, one that could never be untangled. “If you have business here, Mr. McKutchen,” Bonnie said stiffly, “I would like to know what it is. If, on the other hand, you simply want to harass me—”
“I came about the materials Seth plans to order for the cabins.”
Though Bonnie kept her chin high, she also clenched the counter’s edge for support. Now it would happen, now another dream would be dashed. “I see.”
“Judging by the total dearth of color in your face and the whiteness of your knuckles, I’d say that you don’t see. You’re expecting me to rescind the order, aren’t you?”
Bonnie swallowed. If he did that, she would be ruined, and she had no real hope of mercy. Eli could be a very ruthless man, and it was entirely possible that he was out to destroy her. “I guess I am,” she admitted.
“Well, then, you’re wrong, Mrs. Hutcheson. The order stands—on one condition.”
Bonnie held her breath. Of course there would be a condition. She only hoped it wouldn’t be too terrible.
“You are not to involve my daughter in this lie you and Hutcheson have concocted.”
“L-lie?”
Eli laughed—it was a bitter sound, completely void of humor—and shook his head. “By God, you never quit, I’ll say that for you. You’re not married to Hutcheson any more than I am, Bonnie, and we both know it. You can tell the town whatever you like, but don’t you dare tell that little girl that she’s anyone but who she is, or you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it. Do you understand me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“You little liar, you know exactly what I’m talking about. You delight in driving me crazy, that’s all—I have half a mind to take you across my knee right here and now!”
“That’s your problem, Eli McKutchen—you have half a mind! And if you so much as touch me, I’ll—I’ll—”
Eli was, incredibly, unbuttoning his cuffs. Rolling up his sleeves. “You’ll what?” he prompted, in a deceptively soft voice.
“I’ll report you to the marshal!”
“And he’ll charge me with spanking the mayor—a dire offense, and there’s probably no precedent. Be serious, Bonnie.”
Eli was edging along the counter as he spoke and it looked as though he meant to carry out his threat. Bonnie was enraged at the prospect of such humiliation, but she was scared, too. This was no time to throw oil on the fire.
“You don’t believe in striking women!” she blurted out, as a desperate reminder.
“I don’t believe in blacking their eyes and breaking their bones,” Eli conceded evenly, still advancing, “but I’m not the least bit opposed to blistering their—”
“Eli! Bonnie!” Genoa swept into the store, in a rustle of skirts and sunny goodwill. “How nice to see you talking together! It’s almost like old times!”
Bonnie closed her eyes and breathed a silent prayer of thanks, and when she dared to look again, she saw the golden sparkle in Eli’s eyes that told her, better than words ever could have, that he’d only been teasing her. With a nod to Genoa, he took his dinner box from the counter and left.
Genoa beamed. “You’re such a handsome couple,” she said, with a delighted sigh. “It’s a pity Eli had to rush off—”
“Yes, isn’t it?” Bonnie replied, forcing a smile. “He’s working at the smelter now, you know.”
Genoa’s joy faded. “Yes, I know.”
Bonnie wanted very much to make her friend feel welcome and at ease. She put aside her irritation over Eli’s trick and asked, “Do you have time for tea? I was just about to close the store for the day.”
“I’m sorry, I’m in a dreadful rush—just went for the mail, don’t you know—are you planning to attend my party?”
Bonnie’s smile was a genuine one. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Genoa.”
“Excellent. Well, I must be off—oh, yes, I forgot—Katie and Rose Marie are at my house. They are having quite the best time with the roller organ and I wondered if they mightn’t spend the evening with me?”
Bonnie nodded. “Will you see them home in your carriage? I wouldn’t want them walking in the dark, with so many strangers in town.”
Genoa looked offended, though only moderately
so. “Why, Bonnie, of course I wouldn’t allow them to take such a chance! How can you even suggest that I would?”
“I’m sorry,” Bonnie said. “It’s been a very long, exciting day and I’m not thinking very clearly.”
“Poor dear,” crooned Genoa. “You work much too hard.” Having made this pronouncement, Miss McKutchen took her leave.
Bonnie pulled the shades down over the windows and carefully locked the door. Between Eli’s bluff and that messy confrontation with Earline Kalb, she’d had enough of this day.
Upstairs Bonnie searched her tiny icebox for something to make for supper. Perhaps she’d been impulsive in inviting Webb over tonight, but it was important that they talk, especially after Eli’s demand that Rose Marie must not be presented as anyone’s child but his own. Eli had joked about the spanking, but Bonnie knew that he was dead serious when he warned her not to lie about Rose.
He had not said that he would try to take Rose away, and for now, that was enough.
Bonnie pumped water into the tea kettle and set it on the stove, then built a fire. If Eli wasn’t planning to raise Rose Marie himself, then there was no reason to marry Webb …
There was a tap at the rear door as the clock struck six and Bonnie smiled at Webb’s promptness. “Come in!” she called.
The door opened and Webb entered, looking wan and just a bit harried. He forced a smile, however, and said, “Let’s have supper at the hotel. You’ve been working all day and you shouldn’t have to cook.”
For the millionth time Bonnie wished that she’d had the plain good sense to fall in love with this man. How many others would be so considerate and kind? She thought of Eli, threatening to spank her like a child, and simmered.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Webb,” she said. On the way down the side stairs, she remembered Tuttle and his hoped-for apprenticeship. “Did young Mr. O’Banyon pay you a call this afternoon?”
Webb smiled, still looking very pale and tired, and took Bonnie’s elbow in a gentlemanly manner, helping her to navigate the stairs. “Yes, and I hired him. I’ve been needing someone to help out for a long time.”
Bonnie felt pleased. All in all, it had been a grand day, what with Seth’s plan to order enough goods to build an entire town and Tuttle finding a trade that would provide him with a comfortable livelihood.
Webb and Bonnie were seated in the dining room of the Union Hotel, their dinners ordered, before Bonnie mentioned her own good news. Instead of looking pleased that Seth was going to buy thousands of dollars’ worth of goods through her store, however, Webb scowled.
“When we’re married, you won’t be running the store anymore, Bonnie. I hope you understand that.”
Bonnie understood but was annoyed that Webb was taking such an arbitrary attitude. He might at least have been happy for her! She unfolded her napkin and placed it neatly in her lap, letting Webb’s comment go unchallenged.
Momentarily he sighed and took her hand in his. “Bonnie, I’m sorry. It’s wonderful that you’ll be making such a sale, of course, and I’m happy for you.”
“What’s troubling you, then?” Bonnie asked softly, all her ire displaced by concern.
“You and Hem were right about that anti-union article I wrote—I’ve had some threats, Bonnie.”
Bonnie’s eyes rounded. “Threats?”
“Letters,” Webb confessed. “Unsigned, of course. I’m not afraid for myself, Bonnie, but some of those people threatened you. They’re demanding that I print a retraction.”
“You aren’t going to do that, are you?”
Webb assessed Bonnie with worried eyes. It was going to be very hard to tell him that she couldn’t become his wife. Very hard indeed. “I couldn’t back down that way, Bonnie. McKutchen is doing everything he can to make things right, and I mean to point that out in the next issue of the paper. Still, if anything happened to you—”
“Nothing is going to happen to me, Webb. I can look after myself.”
“All the same, I wonder if you and Rose would be safe out at the house, all alone. Bonnie, I think it might be better if we put the wedding off for a few weeks—just until things calm down a little. Until those new cabins are built and the strike is over.”
Inwardly Bonnie sighed with relief. There being no need to hurt Webb now, she could put off dashing his hopes. “Earline Kalb came by to see me today,” she said, with a mischievous smile.
Webb dropped his coffee cup.
CHAPTER 13
STANDING AT THE liquor cabinet in his office, Forbes poured brandy for himself and McKutchen. A light rain was spattering the windows and the river was rising; there had been a great deal of snow during the winter just past, and Forbes could picture the stuff melting off the high peaks of the Canadian Cascades, swelling all the streams that poured into the Columbia. Fleetingly he wished that he’d built the Brass Eagle on higher ground.
He handed McKutchen his glass and sat down in the chair behind his desk. He wondered what it was that Eli wanted of him. A woman? Information about Bonnie? What? He waited.
McKutchen looked fit, though there were burns and small blisters on his hands. Even in his working clothes he had an air of authority. “I need your help, Durrant,” he said, after staring into his brandy snifter for some seconds.
Forbes settled back in his chair, his brandy in one hand, and smiled to himself. “In what way?” he asked moderately.
The look McKutchen gave him was sharp enough to pin anybody to the wall. “I want you to manage the smelter again.”
So the job was too tough for McKutchen, was it? Forbes knew better than to say this aloud; he let the silence say it for him.
McKutchen tossed back his brandy and set the snifter down on Forbes’s desk with a thump. “Well? Will you take the job or not?”
Forbes pretended to consider. In truth he needed the income that management of the smelter works would provide. He could live well on what the Brass Eagle Saloon and Ballroom brought in, of course, but he had certain financial goals that could only be met if he continued to invest and for that he required the sizable monthly bank draft from McKutchen Enterprises. “What changed your mind?” he stalled. “I got the definite impression that you didn’t care for my management methods.”
“I didn’t and I don’t, but Seth doesn’t have time for a job like this and neither do I. It might be months before I can bring in someone else, so I’m giving you a second chance—at a higher salary—if you want it.”
Forbes was galled. “Why should I help you, McKutchen, if you’re planning to replace me when you can?”
Josiah McKutchen’s grandson smiled. “I won’t bring in anybody else if you can do the job, Durrant. This time, just do it correctly. I’ll be looking over your shoulder, and so will Seth. You might want to keep in mind that I’m being generous here—considering some of the discrepancies Seth found in your bookkeeping system. A few of them were just blatant enough to land you in prison.”
Prison. Forbes swallowed hard. He was too good-looking for prison.
McKutchen spread his hands. “I’m willing to overlook past transgressions, Durrant—we can start fresh.”
The offer now seemed more than generous. Why, it was downright bighearted. “What do you want me to do first?”
“Call another meeting. Make it clear that every worker is welcome, whether he’s still doing his job or out on strike. In the meantime, I want you to have some bills printed and passed out, saying that from now on, there will be three shifts at the smelter, instead of two. Each man will work eight hours, instead of twelve, for the same wages he’s getting now.”
Forbes’s mouth dropped open for a moment. “That’s financial suicide!” he protested.
McKutchen rose from his chair. “I hardly think so, Forbes. The profits we’ve been making in the past five years were enormous. We can well afford to give something back to the men. What we can’t survive is a prolonged strike.”
“Then you’ll give in to the union’s demand
s?”
McKutchen sighed. “If the men want a union, I won’t try to stop them from having one. But I won’t subsidize the organization, either. Make sure the workers understand that any dues they dole out to the union boys will come out of their own pockets, not mine.”
“You won’t raise wages.”
“I’ve decided to make other concessions instead—I’m providing those cabins free of charge. I’m cutting back hours. For now, that’s all I’m willing to do.”
Privately Forbes thought the company was conceding too much. After all, they could have hired Chinamen to replace the workers that were out on strike and made greater profits than ever. In the final analysis, however, he was certainly in no position to argue. “Very well,” he said with a shake of his head.
McKutchen paused at the door. “That woman who came in here the other night—the one who runs the rooming house—”
“Earline?”
“Yes. What’s her claim on Webb Hutcheson?”
Forbes shrugged. “She’s his landlady and probably his mistress.”
“I’m surprised Bonnie was willing to overlook a mistress, considering that Hutcheson is supposed to be her husband.”
Forbes laughed then. “I’ve heard the rumor, but the Angel isn’t married to Hutcheson and never has been. For one thing, Webb wouldn’t have permitted any wife of his to dance the hurdy-gurdy—I guarantee you that.”
“I see,” McKutchen replied, with a half-smile on his lips. At that, he opened the door and left.
The rainy weather might have put a damper on Bonnie’s spirits if it hadn’t been for the pages and pages of neatly printed merchandise orders Seth brought to the store. Even considering past-due accounts and shipping costs, Bonnie’s own profits would be huge. To save time, she decided to travel to Spokane and meet with her suppliers in person, rather than trusting her orders to the mails. She would go that very day, and she said as much.
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