by Lisa Bingham
Sumner had shown, in a simple act of kindness, that she accepted them, totally and completely—even if their clothes were muddy or their manners needed some polishing. In an instant, the brittleness had been broken and the cook shack was back to normal.
His men were back to normal.
Jonah supposed that Ezra Batchwell would have something cutting to say about the whole event. But Jonah was touched.
“Jonah, wait up!”
He turned to find Gideon jogging toward him.
“Hey, Gideon.”
“I got a chance to talk to your girl, Sumner.”
Jonah opened his mouth to insist that Sumner wasn’t his girl, but for some reason, the words wouldn’t come.
“I like her.”
Jonah wasn’t sure what he’d expected his friend to say, but the simple statement would have been far from his wild guesses.
Gideon’s eyes twinkled. “She’s no shrinking violet, that one. She’d catch the tail of a tiger and give him what-for, if she had a mind to do so.”
Jonah shook his head in confusion. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full night’s sleep and his weariness was making it difficult to understand what Gideon was trying to tell him. But before he could ask, Gideon pointed a finger in his direction.
“You’d be crazy to let that one go without a fight, I’m telling you here and now.”
“Gideon, Sumner and I are just...friends.”
“Then you’re a bigger fool than I ever took you for—and I’ve never taken you for a fool.” He jabbed with his finger again. “That woman is the first girl I’ve met who’s worthy of you.” Gideon’s voice grew oddly husky. “So don’t wait too long, you hear? God’s sent you a gift, so don’t let someone else snatch it away from you.”
Then, before Jonah could gather his wits about him, Gideon turned on his heel and strode away.
Leaving Jonah standing on the stoop to his house, his hand wrapping around the doorknob, his body thrumming with pain and weariness and Gideon’s words shimmering in the darkness like cracking ice.
God’s sent you a gift, so don’t let someone else snatch it away from you.
But even as the words wrapped around his heart, the pain in his back was nearly overwhelming.
Help me, Heavenly Father. Help me to know what to do.
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, knowing that he’d be better off on his knees than praying on the doorstep. But his back was on fire and his feet were so wobbly he feared that, once down, he wouldn’t be able to get up again. So he dropped into his mother’s rocking chair and closed his eyes. Breathing deeply, he murmured, “Please, Lord. I’m lost and alone and I don’t know which way I should turn.”
Then he sat in silence as his mother had taught him to do.
He waited, becoming intimately aware of the sough of the wind and the tic-tic-tic of snow being thrown against the windows. Gradually, a peace began to seep into his chest, bringing a warmth and heat that had nothing to do with the tepid box stove. Muscles he hadn’t even known were tense began to loosen.
Have faith, Jonah.
The words weren’t spoken aloud; they weren’t even whispered in his heart. He felt them. Felt the hope that they brought. And even though his mind railed against their sentiment, his soul latched on to them like a drowning man being thrown a rope.
He stayed with his head bowed, reveling in the emotions that blossomed within him, allowing them free reign in a way he never would have allowed before. Then he added his thanks to God, who had once again come to his aid.
Jonah didn’t know what to make of the path that had been shown to him. But he’d never been a man to turn his back on inspiration.
Standing, he winced when his muscles seized up before finally allowing him to straighten. With the last ounce of energy he could summon, he climbed the stairs and went into the sparse room he called his own.
In truth, it looked more like a prison cell than a sanctuary. There was a cot, a trunk and hooks along the wall to hold his clothes at night.
Lifting the lid to the trunk near the foot of his bed, Jonah hissed at the stabbing pain in his back as he bent enough to dig into the far corner of the tray. There, he found a small, faded velvet pouch.
His heart thudded in his ears as he loosened the drawstring and reached inside, retrieving the delicate gold ring. A deep red ruby glowed at him from the shadows.
His grandmother’s wedding ring. Even Rebecca had never seen it. She’d frowned on anything old, wanting to be surrounded by new, glittering things. Soon after she’d rejected him, Jonah had tucked it away in the recesses of his trunk, knowing that he would never have need of it.
Until now.
His pulse pounded even harder, filling him with terror and anticipation, peace and exhilaration. Then he slid it back into the pouch, and the pouch into one of the pockets of his vest. As he carefully buttoned the flap, he saw the way his fingers trembled.
There’s no need to fret. Not yet. You might not have need for it, after all.
But the moment his inner naysayer issued the warning, Jonah pushed it aside.
Have faith, Jonah.
The nervousness he’d felt vanished as swiftly as it had come. Straightening, Jonah glanced at his watch. He could fit a few more hours of work in before bedtime. He knew that he hadn’t been sleeping much lately. For the past few weeks, he’d found it so difficult to nod off that there hadn’t been much point turning in at all.
But as the sound of snow shifted to the rustle of sleet, his eyes strayed toward the bed.
Maybe he’d put his feet up. Just for a minute.
He gingerly sat on the edge of the cot. Then stretched out. Then sighed as his muscles throbbed, then loosened.
Then all conscious thought fled, and he slept.
Chapter Thirteen
Jonah woke feeling more at peace with himself than he had in years. He’d slept deeply, dreamlessly, and it wasn’t until the late-morning sunshine hit his face that he became aware of his surroundings at all.
Unaccountably, he took his time getting ready. He polished his boots, found a freshly laundered shirt at the bottom of his trunk, and a new pair of trousers that he’d been saving for a special occasion. After laying everything out near the bed, he glanced into the mirror over his pitcher and basin. Darned if he didn’t look like an old mountain man with a too-long beard and hair. He’d have to stop at the barber shop sometime this morning and see to that, as well.
It was noon by the time he stepped into the mine and headed down the tunnel toward the lean-to office. A trim and some proper grooming by Anson Pettibone left him smelling of bay rum and feeling like a dandy. Even more pronounced was the sensation of hope that permeated his whole being. The glow centered around the circlet of gold still tucked in his pocket for safekeeping. At odd moments, he found himself patting his side as if to reassure himself that somehow, someway, he’d find a way to make Sumner a permanent part of his life.
He was whistling under his breath as he opened the door and stepped inside. But it wasn’t until the latch clicked back in place that he found he wasn’t alone.
Phineas Bottoms waited in the chair behind the desk.
The melody died from Jonah’s lips. He was late for work—especially by his own standards—but he refused to feel guilty. He’d more than put in his hours over the last few months—years. He didn’t need to be ashamed of running a personal errand.
“Mornin’,” he offered as he settled his hat on the coat tree and shrugged out of his jacket.
“Good morning.” Phineas had been reading one of the production reports and he tipped his head so that he could look over the spectacles he wore for close work. “You’re looking mighty chipper this morning.”
Jonah didn’t bother to comment—after all, what could he say?
As Jonah
settled into the only other chair, Phineas removed his glasses and carefully folded them before placing them in his pocket.
“It’s nice to see you taking some time for yourself.”
Jonah grimaced. “I’d grown shaggy as a bear, so I figured I’d better head to the barber shop before the rush.”
The man nodded, and Jonah hoped Phineas accepted his explanation on face value.
Jonah wasn’t really sure what had led to Batchwell and Bottoms becoming business partners. All he knew was that the two men had worked together as boys in the coal mines of Scotland. After a youth of toil and hunger, they’d decided to band together in business—first by providing cheap goods for the miners, then investing in bigger and bigger enterprises, until they’d decided to set sail for America and the opportunities to be found there.
Jonah could understand the business relationship between the two, but Ezra and Phineas were so contrary in nature that their relationship should have remained cool and professional. Where Ezra Batchwell was hot-tempered, cantankerous and drove a hard bargain, Phineas was meditative, pragmatic and quiet. But there was a shrewdness to Phineas that most people overlooked. If a business enterprise needed to be analyzed or an employee’s effectiveness examined, it was Phineas who saw to the heart of things. Sometimes, Jonah wondered if the man could peer through walls.
Unfortunately, it seemed as if Jonah had captured the man’s attention.
“You’ve been feeling a little poorly lately,” Phineas remarked.
It wasn’t a question.
Jonah didn’t bother to lie or prevaricate. It wouldn’t have done any good.
“That second avalanche didn’t do me any favors.”
The older man frowned. “It was a fool’s errand sending you and your men to the canyon. I tried to get Ezra to change his mind, but...sometimes he gets an idea stuck in his craw and there’s no dislodging it. I’m sorry that you all ended up getting hurt.”
Jonah waved aside the apology. It was an act of nature, something over which Bottoms had little control.
“Have you injured your back again?”
Other than Batchwell, Bottoms, Gideon and Creakle, no one else at the mine knew about Jonah’s condition. But when Jonah had interviewed for the position, he’d been up front with his employers. And he was indebted to them. If they hadn’t taken a chance on him, he wasn’t sure how he would have survived the last few years. For that, they deserved his continued honesty.
“I don’t know. I’ve had some numbness and tingling in my feet. Dr. Havisham isn’t sure if it’s due to the old injury or the fall down the hill.”
Phineas nodded, those pale blue eyes narrowing as he ruminated over the information. But when he spoke, he took a slightly different tack than Jonah expected.
“She knows her stuff... I’ll give her that. I didn’t think a little thing like that would ever be able to keep up with the needs of a mining community. But she’s handled herself well.”
Coming from Phineas, that was high praise indeed. Jonah made a mental note to pass on the news to Sumner.
“It’s too bad so many of the men don’t take too well to a female doctor.” For a moment, Phineas’s gaze moved to the windows that looked over the juncture leading to the various tunnels. He ruminated a moment before saying. “Still, she’s proven to be a good leader with a level head on her shoulders. A person like that could be a valuable member to a community.”
“Yes. Yes, she could.”
“I’m glad to see that you’ve let her see to your back. You do what she says.”
“Yes, sir.”
Phineas stood and moved to the door, then paused yet again. “You still got that piece of property...north of here, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
His first few years in the territory, Jonah had used his wages to register a homestead on the other side of the river, right on the border of the mine’s property. It had been difficult making the improvements and cultivating the land while keeping up with his duties at the mine, but he’d been determined to have something that belonged to him. Just in case. In the past few years, he’d spent little time at the cabin he’d built. There hadn’t been much point once the row houses had been finished. But during the spring and summer, he’d still visit the place a few times a week to make sure everything was secure.
“It’s a pretty little spot, if I’m remembering right. A place like that would be the ideal location to raise some cattle or horses someday.” He made a soft, chortling sound. “I’d do it myself if I were a little younger.”
Then he disappeared, leaving a stillness in his wake.
For long moments, Jonah sat in his chair. There was something to the older man’s words, something that Jonah couldn’t quite piece together. But it seemed...important.
“Boss man, we’ve got trouble in tunnel six again!”
Creakle’s bellow pulled him from his reverie and he looked up to find Creakle striding toward the lean-to.
Later. He’d mull it over then. But for now...
He had work to do.
* * *
Sumner finished smoothing salve over the back of Iona Skye’s hand.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to wrap it with a bandage?”
Iona shook her head. “No, dear, I’m fine. I should have been watching what I was doing. When I poked the coals, I turned to talk to one of the other women and hit the stove door with my hand. That’s what happens when you get old and forgetful.”
Sumner shook her head, making a tutting noise.
“Nonsense. You’re in your prime, Iona.”
Iona couldn’t be much older than sixty and with everything she’d done to help Sumner at the infirmary, she’d proven that her mind was sharp as a tack.
“Perhaps.” A wistfulness settled over her features. “But I have to admit that I’ll miss all this when it’s over.” She used a hand to gesture to the Dovecote.
“You’re still thinking about the arrangements with your sister, then?”
Iona shrugged. “I can’t help but think about it. I worry that once I’m there...I won’t be needed. There’s nothing on earth that makes a person feel old than not being needed.”
Sumner reached out to squeeze her uninjured hand.
“I wish you had a better option. I wish we both had better options.”
“Have you thought of what you’ll do, Sumner? Will you try to stay in the territories? Or will you go back to your home in England?”
Sumner shook her head. “No. I won’t go to England.”
“But won’t your family be worrying about you?”
“No. My family...my family doesn’t want to see me again. It was one of the conditions of my becoming a doctor.”
Iona’s eyes grew moist. “Oh, my dear. How awful for you.”
Sumner’s throat grew tight. “That’s why I came here. To make a new start.” She squeezed Iona’s hand again. “It’s too bad the two of us couldn’t team up and pool our resources.” Her smile was rueful. “Maybe if we put our heads together, we can come up with something that would help us both.”
Iona winked. “Wouldn’t that be something.”
Sumner helped Iona to wriggle off the examination table and began putting her medical supplies away. She would need to go through her trunks to see if she had enough ingredients left to make another batch of burn salve. She had less than a third of a jar left.
“Would you be up to helping me make some medical concoctions today, Iona? I’m running low on a few of my cures.”
Iona’s eyes sparkled. “With pleasure. Anything to beat the boredom away.”
Now that they’d moved to the Dovecote, the women were allowed more freedoms. They’d begun taking the air outside—at least as far as their Pinkertons would allow them to go. Some of the younger ladies had begun fashioning a family of snow peo
ple that populated the tree line. A laundry station had been set up in the clearing outside of Sumner’s office and the women kept themselves busy washing, ironing, sewing. Some of them had even begun taking in mending for the miners. But there were times when the sameness of their days grew tiresome.
The outer door creaked open and both women turned. Sumner expected to see one of the other mail-order brides carrying in a basket of laundry frozen into odd angles. But it was Jonah who stepped into her office.
Immediately, Sumner was overcome by an odd excitement and her pulse leaped into an irregular gallop. She barely heard Iona offer a murmured greeting, then leave the room.
Sumner’s cheeks grew hot as she realized that Iona must have sensed her charged emotions to leave so quickly. But even that thought flew from her head almost immediately.
Something had changed with Jonah, something dramatic. At first, she thought that it might be the fact that he’d trimmed his hair and his beard. The effect was startling, highlighting his sharp brow, high cheekbones and razor-square jaw. But she soon realized that it was more than that. There was a color to his cheeks and a lightness to his expression that she’d never seen before.
He closed the door behind him and swept his hat from his head. Sumner’s fingers twitched to smooth the new springy waves back into place. Idly, she wondered if his newly cut hair would feel as soft and silky smooth as it looked.
“You must be feeling better today,” she said with a smile.
“Yeah. I slept well last night.”
Even his eyes appeared lighter, more blue than brown.
“Listen, I’ve got to get back to the mine. We’re having trouble shoring up one of the tunnels. But... I wondered if you were going to be busy tomorrow afternoon.”
She shook her head. “No. I should be done in the cook shack by eleven.”
“Great. Do you think you could rustle up a few sandwiches for a picnic of sorts? I’ve got something I’d like to show you. It’s several miles off company property, so we’ll have to take a sleigh. Dress warmly. If things go well,” he said, spots of color appearing in his cheeks, “we might be gone for a couple of hours. I’ll pick you up at noon.”
