Augustus Heinze crossed his arms over his chest. He had a reputation as the more tight-fisted of the group. “So what is it you think we can do about that?”
Bryan inhaled a fortifying breath, then picked up the mask from beside his feet. “I’ve been corresponding with some physician friends back East who create medical tools. They’ve made a breathing mask to filter the air the men take in.”
He showed them how the filter worked, and where the spent air released. “I’ve had three miners try them for the last several weeks.” He leveled his gaze on Martin. “Their lung capacity is already better, their congestion lessened. I’m hopeful if they keep wearing the masks, the damage done to their lungs can be reversed.”
Clark spoke up, his overgrown brows raised. “You really think that’s possible?”
Bryan met his stare. “At the least, we can stop further harm. We can save lives. Your men can work harder and faster when they don’t have to stop and catch their breath all day.” If only he could tell them the true conditions of some of the sickest men. How they could barely stand, much less work. Yet they still showed up at the mines day after day. But would they be upset to hear some of the men weren’t pulling their weight on the job? And there was no way he could tell the stories without making it a personal attack on these mine owners sitting before him. How could they possibly let men work in that condition?
“And I suppose you want us to pay for masks for everyone?” Heinze crossed one leg over the other and slouched in his chair. With his arms still braced over his chest, it was clear he had already made a decision.
“My friends are willing to send them for barely above the cost of supplies and shipping. They’re physicians by training, and they want to see the miners helped. It will take some time to manufacture enough for all the men, but—”
“Are there any other options besides the breathing masks?” Daly again. His interest had to be a good sign.
“Anything that would get the men out of the contaminated air.” Bryan shrugged. “Breaks through the day where the workers could come to the surface would be best, but it’d be too hard for them to ride the elevators so many times.”
“Wouldn’t get any work out of ‘em,” Heinze muttered under his breath.
Bryan did his best to ignore him and focus on Martin and Clark. “It might help if they had shorter work days, where the men could spend time in the sun. I’m not sure yet if lack of sunlight is a contributing factor.”
Clark’s lips pinched and his brows furrowed. Shorter work days didn’t seem to be an idea he liked. Best get back to the more plausible option. “I can order another crate of masks to let more men test them. But I think we should act soon. The men grow worse every day.”
Martin sat up, seeming to come awake from his thoughts. He glanced at the other two men. “Well, gentlemen. I’m sure you’ll join me in thanking the doctor for his most enlightening conversation.”
Bryan sank back into his chair. Ten minutes. Less than a quarter hour to plead his case. Would it make any difference?
As Bryan left the Daly house, the conversation replayed itself in his mind. Had he said enough? Said too much? Maybe he should have told individual stories of some of the men. Tad Langely, who went crazy from grief after his older brother died of the lung disease. That was a cautionary tale if there ever was one. Tad had focused his grief on Alex’s inability to save Tad’s brother’s life. He’d kidnapped Alex and Miriam to make them suffer a slow, torturous death like his brother had. It was only by the grace of God and Tad’s own weakened state that Alex and Miriam had escaped.
How many more people would suffer such grief as they lost loved ones to the mines’ angel of death?
A wagon passed near Bryan, and he stepped to the side. He glanced around to get his bearings. Ottawa Street. Claire’s grandmother’s house stood just two doors further. Why had he come this way? The clinic was two streets over on Elm.
Bryan glanced at the sun. Mid-afternoon. Claire might be between shifts at the café. Would she be home or out on one of her missions of mercy? Did he really want to stop by? Yes. But what excuse did he have for a visit?
The door of her house opened, and the focus of his thoughts stepped out onto the porch with a broom. As she turned, her eyes swept the street…and landed on him. He was close enough to see them widen, then light as a smile spread across her face.
His feet pushed forward, carrying him to the bottom of the steps.
“What are you doing here?” Her smile turned to curious pleasure.
He raised his brows. “I’m not allowed to visit patients?”
The pink in her cheeks was the perfect highlight to her dark eyes. “Of course. I mean…” So cute when she was flustered.
Finally, she stepped back, motioning toward the door. “Would you like to come in? I just pulled cherry pies from the oven.”
Normally, that would have started his taste buds going. But his stomach still roiled from the intensity of the meeting. What he really wanted was this woman’s company. “Thanks.”
He followed her into the house and glanced around. “Where’s your grandmother?” And then he heard the soft rise and fall of snoring from the bed chamber.
His eyes found Claire’s, and she smiled with a nod. “Her afternoon nap.” She motioned toward a chair. “Have a seat while I cut the pie.”
“Maybe hold off on the pie for now.”
Her gaze flew to his face, searching. “What’s wrong?”
Now he was stuck. But a thread of relief eased the weight on his shoulders. It would be nice to have someone to talk to. But would she care about his concerns for the miners? Would she think he was trying too hard? Not hard enough?
“Come sit down.” She touched his arm, reining in his thoughts. A line creased her forehead.
He sank into a chair at the table, and she settled into the one catty-corner from his. She leaned forward on her elbows, waiting.
How did he start? Bryan took in a deep breath. “I had a meeting today. With three of the largest mine owners. I proposed some changes."
“And…?”
"You should see the conditions the miners have to work in.” The words poured out of him as he described the situations. All those faces he’d treated, the pain in their every breath. For once, he had the chance to share his struggles, his fears for the men. He told of his hopes for the masks. His concern that greed would overcome the chance for this lasting help.
She shook her head. “You can’t think they would refuse to buy a tool that could save the lives of their workers. Especially with all that profit.”
Bryan cringed. When she put it like that… “I should have had you talk to the owners today.”
Claire leaned forward and gripped his arm. “I’ll do anything to help.”
His mouth found a small smile. Her passion flamed like fire in those dark chocolate eyes. Must be the hint of auburn still in her hair, leftover from the Irish roots of her Sullivan name. “I think they need a few days to think through what I told them. Daly seemed like he might be open to the idea. And he owns the largest mine.”
Claire sank back into her chair as she released a breath. “I’m so glad you talked to them. I’m glad you’re doing something.”
An ache formed in his chest. Seemed like he’d been doing something to help others since he was a boy, but it was never enough.
A muffled clatter sounded behind him, and Bryan turned as Mrs. Malmgren shuffled from the bed chamber.
“Doc Bryan stopped by to visit, Gram.” Claire rose and stepped to the cook stove. “I’ll pour us all some coffee.”
Bryan stood and stepped away from his chair. He’d seen the older woman take that seat at the table before. “How are you today, ma’am?”
“Tickled as a hoppy toad now that you’re here, son. Clara Lee, have you cut him some pie?”
Bryan spoke up before Claire could do her bidding. “I’m afraid I need to be leaving. I’ve a few house calls to make before it gets too late.�
�
A knock rapped on the door.
Silence spread over the three of them, and Claire tilted her head as if she were trying to calculate who it could be.
“Reckon’ who it is?” Mrs. Malmgren said in a loud whisper.
Should he answer the door? Hair on the back of Bryan’s neck stood on end as he glanced at the thin wooden divider. Slim protection for two women if anyone dangerous did try to come in.
Claire had already stepped to open the door, and Bryan was behind her before his senses kicked in. She opened it a crack and peered around the edge. Then with a jerk, she flung the door open and threw herself in the arms of the man on the porch.
Chapter Sixteen
Bryan’s chest seized. It took all his self-control not to reach out to pull Claire back.
“Marcus. What in the world are you doing here?”
Marcus. The name had such a familiar ring. Bryan peered closer at the man’s grinning face as he awkwardly patted Claire’s back. Her brother? There was a definite resemblance between them. The same dark, piercing eyes. Almost the same hair color, although the man’s was a little darker brown.
Claire stepped back, still clutching the man’s arm. “Come meet everyone. Of course you remember Gram.”
“Is that my Marcus?” Mrs. Malmgren’s voice quivered as she reached out a hand.
Marcus stepped forward and clasped it. “Gram, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” His voice had a relaxed drawl to it. He hugged the older woman, towering over her, but the grin on his face brimmed with affection.
At last, the man’s eyes found Bryan. Searching. Taking his measure.
“Marcus, this is Doctor Bryan Donaghue. He’s been helping Gram.” Claire stood in the space between them. Looking as if she didn’t know which man to side with.
Bryan’s chest tightened. This shouldn’t be hard on her. Her brother had come, it was a happy day. He stepped forward and extended a hand. “It’s good to meet you. Claire’s talked a lot about you.” Too late, he realized he should have said Miss Sullivan.
Marcus’ grip was firm, and he met Bryan’s gaze, raising one brow higher than the other. Then he shifted his focus to Claire. “I hope she hasn’t told you any incriminating stories.”
“Not yet.” Claire stepped closer and slipped her arm through her brother’s. “So what are you doing? Please tell me you didn’t come all this way just to check on me.” She rolled her eyes to Bryan. “Marcus can give a whole new meaning to overprotective.”
“As if you don’t need it.” He gave a playful punch to his sister’s arm. “But that’s actually not the main reason I came.” He stood a little straighter. “I’ve taken a church here in Butte.”
Claire sucked in a breath, then let out a little squeal. “You have? Oh, Marcus, that’s wonderful.” She threw her arms around his waist again.
The grin on Marcus’s face was a bit off-kilter as he patted her back and glanced at Bryan. His gaze said he didn’t quite know what to do when his sister embarrassed him like this.
“Congratulations,” Bryan offered. So this was the new preacher Gideon had sent for? Claire sure seemed to be excited about that fact. What would this do to his chances with Claire? What if Marcus didn't approve of him? Would he try to come between them? How had this woman become so important to him?
Marcus nodded and held his sister at arm’s length. “So tell me, how are the two of you doing?” His eyes roamed between her and their grandmother, then zeroed in on the older woman’s still bandaged hand. “Is Claire not taking good care of you, Gram?”
His tone was teasing, and Claire gave him a playful swat. “That happened before I got here, thank you very much.”
Her own bandage caught his glance and he snatched her wrist, holding it up as his brows lowered. “And you, too? What’s going on around here?” His gaze roamed over Claire, then cut to Bryan. Accusing?
Claire pulled her wrist away, and elbowed him with her good arm. “Just a little cut from cooking. Not half as bad as the scrapes you come home with.”
Marcus’s expression softened as he watched his baby sister.
Claire had a way with him, and it was cute to watch the two of them bicker. Bryan had known they were close, just by the pride in Claire’s voice when she talked about her big brother. But the sheer joy on her face now that he was here…
His chest ached. If only he could be the one to put that expression there. At least she had her brother. And he knew all about being overshadowed by a brother. Seemed it was time for him to bow out.
Bryan edged toward the door. “I need to be leaving.”
Claire pulled away from her brother and took a tentative step toward Bryan. “Are you sure? Don’t you want to stay for pie?” Her eyes said she was sorry their conversation had been interrupted. Her eyes… Windows to her soul. Revealing the purity there.
It made his chest pull even tighter. If only he could step forward, brush his fingers across her cheek. But not with her brother eyeing the two of them.
He swallowed. “I need to get back to the clinic.” And bury himself in work. She needed space and time with her brother.
“All right.”
As Bryan stepped outside and closed the door behind him, he couldn’t shake the feeling his relationship with Claire had just changed.
~ ~ ~
It was too good to be true.
Claire fought the urge to grip Marcus’s arm again. “Come and sit down while I cut us all some cherry pie.”
Marcus’s face took on that silly grin she remembered from forever. “Cherry pie?”
Warmth flooded her chest. “Sit down. Both of you.”
Gram peppered the boy with questions while they settled into chairs around the table. Marcus filled them in on his graduation from seminary and how Dad had heard through one of his contacts in Richmond that Butte was looking for a pastor.
“So here I am.” Marcus leaned back and spread his hands, palms up.
“But how did you get here so soon?” Claire slid loaded plates in front of them both and settled down across from her brother. “You still had three weeks before graduation when I left to come here.”
He wrinkled his nose at her. “I took a faster boat than you.”
It was too good to see him to get riled. “So that’s it? You’re here for good? Where’s all your stuff?” She glanced at the door. He’d not come in carrying anything.
“I agreed to a trial period. Six weeks of sermons, then we’ll talk and make sure they like me.” He gave a quick, rueful raise of his brows.
“They’ll love you.” Claire leaned forward on her elbows. “Is your first sermon tomorrow?”
“Next week. When I get settled, I’m to check in at the doctor’s clinic to meet up with a Gideon Bryant.”
“I’ve heard of him. He’s related to the doctor’s wife.” A flush of heat ran through Claire. “The other doctor. Bryan’s younger brother.”
Marcus raised a brow at her, looking like he might ask more.
Better change the subject. “Are your things outside?”
“My trunk and bag are at my new house.” Marcus leaned back in his chair like a proud papa.
“They gave you a house with the deal?” This was almost too much to take in. It’s like Marcus had taken on a different life while she was away. “Where?”
He nodded toward the door. “One street over and a little farther north. Close to the church.”
“And you went there before coming to tell us you were in town?” Claire propped her hands on her hips.
“Just dropped my stuff and asked the first stranger I saw where to find the two prettiest gals in town.” He drank a swig of his coffee, then set the mug back on the table with a clunk. “'Course when I got to that saloon he sent me to, I found a better way to ask directions. Eventually, someone told me how to find the two of you.” That self-satisfied twinkle in his eyes was all too familiar.
“Marcus.” All she could do was shake her head.
~ ~ ~
Claire was pouring coffee for a table full of miners that evening when Marcus came in with Gram on his arm. That tall profile with the broad shoulders sent her heart into a leap of joy. It was better than the Fourth of July to see him.
"You two come sit right here." She motioned at the special table in the corner where she usually put Gram.
Marcus glanced at it, and his forehead creased. "Mr. and Mrs. Bryant said they would come have supper with us. And maybe the doctor, too."
Claire's stomach flipped. Bryan was coming. "Why don't we pull this other table next to it?" She scooted the two together, so there were enough seats for six.
Once Marcus and Gram were settled, she poured coffee in their mugs. "We're having goulash and cornbread tonight. Lilly makes it better than Mama. Wait 'til you taste."
"Your Mama's an excellent cook," Gram piped up, her mouth coming to rest in a pinch.
Claire's gaze flicked to Marcus, and he met it with a smirk. "I know, Gram. You taught her well. I think you'll like Lilly's stew too, though."
The front door opened, and Miriam Donaghue walked in, an infant swaddled in the crook of her arm. An elegant woman trailed her, brown hair coifed under a fashionable hat that matched her dusky blue day gown. Behind them entered a tall, dark-haired man Claire hadn't met, followed by Doc Alex.
Marcus rose as the group strolled toward them. "Mr. and Mrs. Bryant. Doctor and Mrs. Donaghue. So glad you could all join us."
Miriam stepped forward. "It's a pleasure, sir. Claire, I'm so glad you're here too. I've been dying for you to meet Leah. And look at my niece, Emily. Have you seen such a precious angel?" She paused for only a breath to beam at the sleeping face in her arms, then glanced up again. "Leah, this is Mrs. Malmgren's granddaughter and Marcus's sister, Claire Sullivan. She's beautiful, isn't she? And just as sweet as she is pretty."
The heat that flooded Claire's face made her duck and take a step back. "I'm not… I mean…" She forced herself to meet Leah's gaze. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Bryant."
Mountain Dreams Series: Books 1 - 3: Mountain Dreams Box Set 1 Page 55
