Accidental Courtship

by Lisa Bingham

  The women had only been here a short time, and they were already having their effect on Bachelor Bottoms. The men were going about their business with mindless grins on their faces, Creakle was giggling like a schoolboy and Jonah...

  Jonah was forgetting what was important.

  No matter what happened, the job would always be there.

  It had been the thing that had pulled him through one of the darkest moments of his life, and it would be the only thing that remained. No woman was worth what the job could give him.

  So why was that thought suddenly so...unsatisfying?

  He was reaching to pull at the handle when the door suddenly widened and Sumner Havisham darted out, nearly mowing him down.

  Jonah automatically reached out to steady her.

  “Oh!”

  One of her hands flew to his chest to keep her from stumbling forward. And even through the layers of his clothing and the red kid gloves she wore, he could feel her warmth.

  “Dr. Havisham.”

  Her laughter was soft and rueful. “So sorry.” She held up a cotton sack cinched tight with a drawstring. “I forgot to get the apples for Mr. Bottoms’s pie. Could you hold this?”

  He automatically took the sack and she turned, locking the door behind her.

  In that instant, his anger and frustration fizzled, and he was instantly ashamed. When he’d seen the open door, he’d been quick to assign blame without even considering the fact that there could be a logical reason.

  He heard the weighty thunk of the lock hitting home, then saw the way Sumner tugged on the padlock to ensure that it had latched properly. Then she held out the two keys he’d given her earlier that day. Somehow, in the intervening hours, she’d tied them with a ribbon to ensure that they wouldn’t get lost. The sight of his utilitarian keys being kept in place with a length of blue silk tugged at his heart.

  “Do you need these?”

  Only moments earlier, Jonah had been ready to demand that she return them, but now, he realized that such measures would be counterproductive. The women would need access to the storehouse, and Sumner had proven to be more than responsible with them.

  “No. I’ve got another set.”

  She nodded and tucked them into her coat pocket, then reached for the sack.

  Jonah subtly moved them out of her reach. “I’ll carry them back to the cook shack for you.”

  “If you’re sure?”

  He gestured for her to precede him, then fell into step beside her. They walked in companionable silence before he said, “Weren’t you supposed to have a Pinkerton with you?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I started out with Mr. Dobbs, but he was needed at the mine, so I told him to go ahead.”

  Jonah opened his mouth to point out that allowing her guard to go to the mine left her unprotected, but there didn’t seem to be much point now.

  “Thank you for tending to Creakle. He came back to the office in finer spirits than I’ve seen in a good while.”

  “It was my pleasure. If anything, I should thank you,” Sumner said.

  “Oh?”

  Her face seemed to adopt a serene glow.

  “I appreciate your confidence in allowing me to tend to one of the miners.”

  In all truth, he hadn’t really thought that far ahead. He’d just wanted to stop Creakle’s bellyaching. Too late, he realized that he may have tacitly given his permission for the miners to seek medical attention from the new doctor. Although he doubted any of them would be willing to go to a woman for more than cuts and scrapes, he didn’t think Ezra Batchwell would look too kindly on having his mine superintendent undermining his orders.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Wha—no. Just a little problem at the mine. Nothing to worry about.”

  “The women have been told that Mr. Batchwell and Mr. Bottoms will be eating in their homes this evening. We’re supposed to have one of the men deliver the food up to their houses.” A slight crease appeared between her brows. “Should we take that as a bad sign?”

  “Not at all. The owners rarely join the men at night. Instead, they attend the Devotional, then Batchwell takes a brisk walk around the camp and Bottoms retreats to read his books. Neither of them cares too much for ceremony.”

  “I can’t blame them. To eat from a tray near the fire, with a book and a teapot nearby...that’s the stuff of dreams.”

  Jonah smiled at the picture she painted. She had a way with words, creating an image so homey and serene that he found himself longing to experience such a thing.

  “You could have all that.”

  She scoffed. “You mean as a wife and mother.” She vigorously shook her head. “Come now, Jonah. Think back to your mother. Did she ever have an evening like the one I described? Or did she spend her meals fetching and fixing for others?”

  Jonah couldn’t help a rueful laugh. “You’ve hit the nail on the head, I’m afraid. But...” His mind wandered back to his childhood, to evenings spent in lamplight, a roaring fire in the grate. “My mother had this little metal foot warmer covered in a scrap of woolen carpet. While she finished clearing up the dishes and putting things away, my father would slide open the drawer and place hot coals inside. Then he’d fold a lap quilt on top. By the time my mother joined us, the box and the blanket were warm. She’d settle into her favorite rocker. Then she’d wrap the blanket over her knees and spend the next few hours reading from the Bible or sewing, or asking us about our day.”

  “That sounds lovely.”

  Her expression was so wistful he feared that Sumner’s childhood had not been so idyllic.

  “You must miss them terribly,” she murmured.

  “Yes. My parents passed several years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry.” She looked stricken. “I didn’t mean to be so insensitive.”

  He waved aside her apology. “The war,” he explained succinctly. “I think the worry of having two sons fighting and the burden of the farm proved too much for them.”

  “And your brother?”

  “Killed at Gettysburg.”

  “Oh.” It was a mere puff of sound. “I remember reading about the battle in one of my father’s monthly periodicals.” She paused, then asked, “Did you have any sisters?”

  “No. Just Matthew and me. By the time I returned home...” He shrugged. “The family business was in shambles, the land we farmed all but ruined. I stayed for a time with...neighbors.”

  Neighbors.

  He’d stayed with Rebecca and her family. But when Rebecca had deserted him, he’d known he needed to move on.

  “So what brought you to Bachelor Bottoms?”

  “The same as you. I was looking for a new start, a place to make a difference.”

  He’d accomplished the first, but he wasn’t so sure about the latter.

  But Sumner must have sensed the thrust of his thoughts because she touched his arm, bringing him to a halt next to the cook shack.

  “You’ve definitely done both, Jonah. Despite the reasons why all these men have gathered here, you’ve helped to create a thriving community. These men are dedicated and healthy and happy. You should be very proud of your work. I’ve seen enough coal mines in England to know that Bachelor Bottoms is quite remarkable, despite its stringent rules.”

  Since they’d arrived at the cook shack, Jonah’s excuse for accompanying Sumner dissipated into the cold. She held out her hand for the sack of dried apples and he reluctantly surrendered it. Thankfully, she didn’t immediately step inside. Instead, they stood close, but not too close, quiet, but not too quiet.

  “Something smells good,” he said when a group of miners walked within earshot. He hoped that the men wouldn’t see Jonah and Sumner together and draw the wrong conclusions.

  “Beans and salt pork, biscuits and oatmeal cookies.”

 
“The men will beat a path to your door.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping.” There was a lilt to her tone that warned him she might not be talking about food anymore. But before he could speak, she opened the door. “Until later, Jonah.”

  Jonah.

  She’d used his first name.

  And they hadn’t been alone.

  Chapter Nine

  Jonah waited until Sumner had disappeared inside the cook shack before turning back toward the office. But within a few feet, he realized that his conversation with the good doctor had not gone completely unnoticed. Ezra Batchwell stood on the opposite side of the street. He leaned heavily on his walking stick and his face was a study in disapproval.

  The man glowered at Jonah as he crossed the street toward him.

  “That woman is becoming a problem,” Ezra growled.

  “She was double-checking your dinner arrangements with me.”

  “I didn’t hire any of them to work in the cook shack. We’ve got men assigned to that.”

  “And they’ll be back to their jobs soon enough. In the meantime, the miners seem to be enjoying the change.”

  “Which won’t do anyone a bit of good. I won’t have them growing accustomed to something that they can’t have.”

  Jonah was pretty sure that Batchwell wasn’t referring to the food.

  “I want them gone as soon as possible.”

  “The weather—”

  “The weather has been clear for a couple of days. The debris field has had time to settle. Come Monday, if we haven’t had any more snow, I want you to send a team of men to examine the pass. There’s got to be a way to get those women out before the next blizzard.”

  Mere days ago, Jonah might have agreed with him. But now, when he thought of any of these women climbing the rugged slopes and walking through the canyon, he balked.

  “None of them could make the entire journey on foot.”

  “Then find a way to get a sledge and team through. Either that, or get them to a section of telegraph wire that isn’t damaged. Then we can send a message for a train to come fetch them. The women keep saying that they have people waiting for them. Let them prove it. Monday!”

  Jonah watched Ezra Batchwell storm toward the meetinghouse. Due to the shorter winter days, shadows were falling. Soon, the evening Devotional would begin. But how was Jonah going to partake of the Spirit knowing that if his men found a way through the pass, Jonah would have to demand that the women pack up and walk to the nearest railhead? With temperatures hovering below freezing, it would be an arduous trek. Even if Jonah managed to get a sledge through, the women would be tested to their limits.

  He knew Ezra was thinking of the welfare of the miners. As much as the owners had tried to ensure that the women disrupted the operation of their community as little as possible, things had changed. Despite their best attempts, a shift in focus was already occurring among the men. True, they completed their shifts and did their work, but an energy shimmered in the air and it was clear that the miners were ultra-aware of the ladies in their midst.

  And it had nothing to do with the new menus.

  * * *

  When Monday morning dawned, the sky was cold, dark and quiet as Jonah and his men assembled in front of the livery stable. Since Ezra Batchwell had issued his orders to examine the pass, the weather had remained clear and sunny—so much so that the icicles hanging from the eaves had begun to drip, and slushy puddles were turning the roads from pristine white to a muddy mess. If ever there was a chance to get the women through the pass, this was probably it.

  The majority of the men were mounted on horseback, although a few had taken their spots in a sledge being pulled by a team of horses. If they were able to find a way to reach the canyon and the rails beyond, Jonah didn’t want to waste time. By bringing the heavy-duty sleigh, they could test the soundness of the snow before ever allowing the women to approach the debris field.

  Dropping from the boardwalk, Jonah tugged his gloves more firmly over his hands, then gathered the reins to his horse. “Everyone ready?”

  “We’re just waiting on Creakle. He’s driving the team.”

  Jonah loosely gripped the reins to his gelding, leading the animal in a wide circuit around the group of miners, checking their gear, their tools, making sure the men were dressed warmly. There were nearly two dozen of them. All had been equipped with rifles—in case they encountered any easy game along their way—and the sledge had been loaded with empty feed sacks, pickaxes and shovels. Even if they found a means of travel clear enough for a man to traverse, a group of women with long skirts may need some clearing in order to make it feasible.

  At long last, Creakle toddled toward them, but he wasn’t alone. A willowy figure in long skirts followed close on his heels.

  “Creakle?” Jonah couldn’t help the way that his voice emerged with apparent disapproval. But before he could say anything, Creakle heaved a crate into the sledge, then took his place. When he shifted, Jonah was able to see that it was Sumner who followed him. She placed a drawstring sack in the sledge, as well, then crossed to Jonah.

  “You’ll be needing food while you’re on the slopes. There’s biscuits, cold ham, cheese and apple tarts in the crate. In the bag, you’ll find some cookies. We’ll have hot coffee and a warm meal for you whenever you return.”

  Jonah felt unaccountably touched. He wasn’t sure how the women had discovered the nature of their errand, but he was pleased that his crew wouldn’t have to spend the day working on an empty stomach.

  “Thank you, Dr. Havisham. And thank the other women in the kitchen. That was mighty thoughtful of you.”

  Judging by her expression, she was blushing, and Jonah wished there was enough light to see her cheeks grow pink.

  “It was no trouble at all. I only wish that we’d been able to find a way to send something hot.”

  “We’ll be fine. Thank you.”

  She took a half step forward, her fingers lacing together, then she appeared to become aware of the curious gazes fastened in her direction because she directed her words to the entire group. “God keep you safe.” Then she lifted her skirts and hurried back toward the cook shack.

  Suddenly, the morning was a little brighter, their errand a little less burdensome. Even so, Jonah couldn’t shift his heavy mood. He kept telling himself that, rather than focusing on what the community would lose when the women left, he should remember what could be gained. Over and over, the women had insisted that they had destinations to reach and people waiting for their arrival. Although Jonah might have real qualms about the safety of the proposed enterprise, many of the women may be looking for a means to escape the valley. If they were successful today, Jonah might be able to grant them that wish.

  Unfortunately, even as he reminded himself of the good that might come of a hard day’s work...he couldn’t discount the twinge of his gut. He had a bad feeling about the day to come.

  A really, really bad feeling.

  * * *

  Throughout the morning and into the afternoon, Sumner tried to keep busy. She’d never been the sort of person who liked to waste the day away. She felt out of sorts if she didn’t have things to do—a result, no doubt, from her years of training and working in the women’s hospital. She’d grown used to having responsibilities that often overlapped one another.

  But since the men had left for the pass, she was having trouble focusing on the tasks she’d assigned herself.

  “Any word?” Iona asked.

  Much like Sumner, the older woman kept hovering near the window, checking for any sign that Jonah and his men had returned.

  “No.”

  “It’s getting late,” Willow murmured, her brow creasing. “It’ll be dark soon.”

  As if their concern were catching, the main room of the hall became quiet, and all attention went to the
windows.

  “Is it a good sign or a bad sign that they haven’t come back yet?” Stefania asked.

  “I suppose it all depends on whether or not you want to get out of the valley,” Ruth mumbled.

  Myra and her twin exchanged glances. “We’ve been praying that they get through.” Myra’s brow knitted. “I don’t want to wish harm on anyone, but...this is our chance to make homes for ourselves. If our husbands-to-be make other arrangements...we have nowhere to go.”

  Several of the brides nodded in agreement.

  Iona sniffed. “Well, I don’t mind the delay so much. My sister and her family aren’t going anywhere. And since I’m getting on in years, this might be the only adventure I’ll ever have in my life.”

  “What about you, Willow?”

  Willow seemed startled to have all eyes turned in her direction. Her cheeks pinkened as she said, “I’m in no hurry.”

  Sumner wasn’t surprised. If Sumner had been destined to marry a man twenty years her senior with a passel of kids, she’d rather put that off for as long as possible.

  The room echoed in a companionable silence, broken only by the soft rip of fabric. This afternoon, after Sumner had found a stash of worn-out linens that had been destined for the scrap heap, she’d enlisted the brides’ help to boil them in lye soap, then hang them in the whipping wind and bright sunshine. Once the sheets were dry—a feat that took hours in the cold—they tore them into strips and began rolling them into more manageable bundles.

  “I, for one, will be glad to get into my own home,” Stefania offered.

  Sumner was sure that most of the women would agree with that remark. They’d all managed to settle into their temporary quarters. The hall no longer looked like a male retreat. There were pots of laundry cooking on the potbellied stove and articles of clothing hanging from ropes that had been strung from the rafters and the rungs of the banister. Some of the women passed the time by sewing or helping one another to repair items of clothing that had been torn during the avalanche. There was even a pair of women in the corner who artfully mended hats and bonnets by steaming brims and repairing the finery.