Accidental Sweetheart

by Lisa Bingham

  “Hey, Charles. You’ve spent some time with Lydia Tomlinson, haven’t you?”

  Charles eyed him with quiet gray eyes over the top of his mug. “Some. She’s a good friend of Willow’s, so she’s been at the house quite often.”

  “What do you make of her?”

  The other man shrugged. “She’s smart, quick-witted, spirited.”

  “But what do you think of her character?”

  Charles sipped, then set his tea on the table. He took a cookie, then nudged the plate in Gideon’s direction. Absently, Gideon took one of the gingerbread men, biting an arm off with more ferocity than was necessary.

  “She appears to be a woman of exceptional character—kind, friendly, loyal. Why do you ask?”

  In his mind’s eye, Gideon could see the primitive drawing from the wanted poster. The sketch hadn’t been exact, but it had looked enough like Lydia to give it credence. Even so, he couldn’t seem to reconcile the poster with the woman who had entertained him for lunch.

  “Do you think Lydia could be capable of deceit?”

  This time, Charles’s eyes narrowed.

  “Anyone is capable of deceit. But I’ve seen no evidence of it with Lydia. Why do you ask?”

  Gideon opened his mouth to explain, but he couldn’t bring himself to mention the poster—and that fact was more disturbing than anything he’d experienced so far. If the woman was a fugitive, he should be marching into town, finding Lydia and placing her in the company jail until law enforcement could make the trip to retrieve her. But a part of him, some untapped corner of his being, balked at the thought. Granted, he and Lydia tended to make more sparks than poetry when they were together, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe that she rode through the territories robbing banks.

  “Gideon? Gideon!”

  He started, realizing that Charles had been speaking and Gideon hadn’t heard a word. Even worse, Gideon had been unconsciously plowing his way through the cookies to the point where the plate was empty and he held a headless gingerbread man in his grip.

  “Would you like me to get you another plate of cookies?” Charles asked wryly.

  “No, I—” He trailed into silence again, his gaze swinging back to the messenger.

  “Who’s the fellow you keep watching?”

  “He’s from the Pinkerton office in Ogden. He managed to make it through the pass with some correspondence.”

  “And?”

  As usual, Charles was too astute.

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s my natural suspiciousness being reawakened by contact with the outside world. We’ve got a mountain of ore to transport, no railway lines, a restless population and an epidemic of measles spreading through the valley. But even with all that going on, my gut keeps telling me that something else is wrong.”

  He glanced at his friend again, sure that Charles would offer some pastor-like platitudes to reassure Gideon that he was overreacting. Instead, he found Charles studying the messenger as well.

  “He looks like one of your detectives. Although he seems a little old for a Pinkerton around these parts.”

  Exactly.

  Charles met Gideon’s gaze. “With everything on your plate, it’s only natural you should worry—especially now. We’re all a little antsy after three months holed up in the valley, the stockpile of silver at its highest, added overtime, and, let’s face it, the future of the women hanging in the balance. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned to trust, it’s that gut of yours. If it’s telling you that something is off, I’d give heed to it.” He rose to his feet. “And you let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  * * *

  After walking Willow to the row house she shared with Charles and spending a few moments with the twins who were now awake and ready to play, Lydia finally took her leave and wandered in the direction of the cook shack. She needed to check in with the other women, apprise them of the fact that she’d failed in her attempts to capture Gideon Gault, and discover how many more miners had been “apprehended” in her absence.

  But for some reason, she found herself loath to join them. Apparently, the shrinking Pinkerton crew had relaxed the guarding of the women more than ever because she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of any of the detectives in hours—except Gideon, of course. She supposed that she should be celebrating the fact that, for the first time in months, she’d spent an entire day without the irritating company of a guard challenging her every move. She’d been able to do what she wanted, when she’d had a mind to do it. These were the freedoms the women had been fighting for since they’d arrived and Batchwell had ordered the annoying supervision. Lydia knew she should kick up her heels and shout to the stars that were beginning to peek through the dusky sky.

  Instead, she felt...

  Melancholy.

  Things had been so much simpler when she’d begun her cross-country journey. She’d been filled with anticipation at the adventures she would have in striking out on her own, and she’d gloried in her goal to spread hope and purpose through her speaking circuit up and down the Western coast.

  Now, all that seemed a lifetime away—as if it had been part of someone else’s existence.

  How had that happened?

  She still firmly believed that all women should be allowed to pursue their dreams, that they should have doorways to education and employment opened to them, that they should be given the same rights as men in owning property and being allowed to control their own money. And if wronged, they should have the same avenues to pursue redress through the courts or the ballot box.

  But what had once been such a concrete goal seemed abstract to her now, as if she were swatting at flies that flitted out of her reach.

  Where here, in Bachelor Bottoms, everything seemed so real.

  She was fighting for her friends, for a way of life that Lydia had always shunned for herself: homes, husbands, children. The opportunity to live together as a family.

  Family.

  Lydia didn’t know if she even fully understood the concept. Her aunts were her family. They’d loved and cared for Lydia as if she’d been their own. But they were hardly conventional. They sometimes looked down their noses on women who’d “settled for the stereotype life,” as they put it.

  But when Lydia thought of the love she’d seen between Jonah and Sumner, Charles and Willow—and yes, even the emotions she saw blossoming between Iona and Phineas—settling seemed an inappropriate word. In Lydia’s opinion, these women seemed to have found something precious and nurturing and...

  Glorious.

  “So pensive.”

  Lydia started, whirling to see Sumner stepping out of the infirmary. Lydia blinked, thinking that her thoughts had triggered some kind of walking dream, but when Sumner grinned at her, she realized her friend was here in the flesh.

  “You gave me a fright,” Lydia admitted, folding her arms. Now that night was falling, the air grew chilly and she hadn’t thought to bring a wrap with her. “I was just thinking about you.”

  “Good thoughts, I hope,” Sumner said with a smile, approaching the spot where Lydia had unconsciously paused on the edge of the boardwalk.

  “Of course. What are you doing here?”

  “Charles sent word to me of the...measles epidemic.” Her tone bubbled with suppressed mirth. “My goodness. When you stage a protest, you go all out, don’t you?”

  Lydia hoped the deepening shadows hid the blush that she could feel rising like a tide of heat into her cheeks.

  “We were hoping it would buy us more time.”

  Sumner gestured to a nearby bench. “Well, it delayed Jonah’s return for a few days, anyway,” she said as they settled onto the hard wooden seat. “He’s been chafing against my orders for him to stay at home, and I’ve been expecting him to revolt at any minute, saddle up his horse and ride back to the mine.
Especially now that the fever’s long gone.” She laughed. “I left him stewing with guilt, sure that he’s responsible for the entire workforce being ravaged with illness.”

  Lydia snorted. “Hardly. We’ve only got about sixty men so far.”

  “I believe the total is substantially more by now.”

  “Really?”

  Lydia’s tone was filled with such obvious delight that Sumner laughed.

  “As for your...epidemic, hopefully, my visit will give it credence, but I wouldn’t plan on the situation lasting much more than a day or two. Despite his guilty conscience at infecting his coworkers, Jonah will soon feel that his duty to the mine outweighs the need to recuperate at home.” She waved toward the infirmary. “And I wouldn’t think that your willing captives will last much longer than that. Right now, they’re enjoying an unaccustomed holiday and having the other girls dote on them. But they’re miners to the bone and they’ll be itching to get back to work.”

  Lydia nodded, knowing that her failure to capture Gideon Gault still remained the largest obstacle to their efforts.

  “Tomorrow,” she promised. “Come what may, we’ll go into the final phase of our plans.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Keep Jonah at home.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  A comfortable silence spooled between them for a moment. Then, knowing that her friend might be the only person who could help Lydia sift through her confusing emotions, she asked, “Have you ever felt as if you somehow veered off the path you’d set for yourself? So much so that you find yourself...lost?”

  It felt strange, confiding such thoughts with another person. As much as she loved her aunts, they weren’t women to suffer any sign of weakness or vulnerability. Their mantra had always been: forge forward at all costs.

  But Lydia wasn’t quite sure what forward meant anymore.

  Sumner took her hand, squeezing it.

  “Right now, I’m living the other path.”

  When Lydia looked at her questioningly, she explained, “I probably never told you, but my father was not...a loving man. At least not to me.”

  Lydia’s brows rose.

  “When he discovered my mother had given birth to a girl rather than a boy, he didn’t even bother to choose a new name. I became Sumner Edmund Havisham.”

  “Really?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Despite that male moniker, my father believed that, as a female, I should adhere to the strict parameters outlined by society—which was, in effect, be seen, but not heard. I was to learn the arts of housekeeping and embroidery and nothing more. When I announced that I intended to become a doctor, he was livid. For a time, he tried to force me to comply to his narrow rules.”

  Lydia had known that Sumner had become a doctor through the sweat of her own brow, but she’d had no idea the opposition her friend had encountered at home.

  “What happened?”

  Sumner squeezed her hand again. “He disowned me. By that time, he had his precious son through my stepbrother. I, on the other hand, was considered a disgrace and a stain against the family name because of my chosen profession. That’s how I ended up here, in Aspen Valley.”

  “Thereby incurring the wrath and disapproval of a whole new set of men.”

  Sumner laughed. “Oh, yes. My gender was a most unwelcome surprise. And I will admit, that I came into the situation with a giant chip on my shoulder. I felt I had to prove my worth at every turn until...” She seemed to focus on a spot several yards away, but Lydia knew that Sumner was plumbing her memories. “Until I learned that the path I’d been searching for all along was love. It’s the reason why I became a doctor. Even more importantly, it’s why I finally opened my eyes to happiness and what my heart yearned for the most. Acceptance.”

  The word pinged in Lydia’s heart, the effects radiating throughout her soul.

  Acceptance.

  Wasn’t that at the core of what she fought for as well? For women to be accepted with dignity and respect for the talents and desires that God Himself had given them?

  And yes. That was what Lydia yearned to experience. Acceptance. Not simply from the world at large acknowledging that her gender had untapped potential to offer, but also from one man in particular.

  Gideon Gault.

  If he knew her, really knew her, he would never accept her. How could he? The Pinkertons might be a private agency; their men might be described as detectives. But here in Aspen Valley, they were the law enforcers. Gideon had spent years developing a reputation with the mine. He was known by all to be fair, honest and loyal. He’d earned the trust of his employers, the miners and the men. If he knew even an inkling of Lydia’s true background, he would have nothing to do with her.

  “Lydia?”

  Too late, she realized she’d lapsed into silence and now Sumner was eyeing her with open concern.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No, I—” Lydia broke off, realizing that she owed Sumner more of an answer. She laced her fingers in her lap. “I suppose I find myself at a crossroads of sorts, and I’m not quite sure which path to take.”

  Sumner reached over to shake one of Lydia’s hands free, then held it in her own capable palm. “When the time comes to make a decision...follow your heart.”

  * * *

  Gideon had been subtly following Eddington as he left the cook shack, took a lazy circuit around town, then headed inside the Pinkerton building, presumably to sleep in the cot that had been set aside for him. But even though Gideon’s body thrummed tiredly, he knew it would be useless to turn in himself. He didn’t sleep much anymore. Unless he drove himself to exhaustion, he’d lie in bed with his memories circling through his head like a worn-out carousel. The more he thought, the darker the images became, and then the nightmares were soon to follow.

  For that reason, he’d become a haunt himself, roaming around town until well past midnight, or riding his horse out of town in an effort to flee the past.

  As he sat on the bench outside the barbershop, whittling a piece of wood with his penknife, he saw Lydia appear from the direction of the Wanlass home. He’d been about to stand and approach her when Sumner stepped from the infirmary.

  The two of them soon settled into conversation, and not wanting to appear as if he were spying on them, Gideon stayed in the shadows. Watching.

  When had things changed between Lydia and him? There had been a point when they’d only had to share the same room for his body to flood with exasperation. From the very beginning, she’d had an uncanny knack of riling up his emotions. He’d gone from antagonism to irritation to anticipation. And now, he had only to look at her to feel a certain...peace.

  How had that come about? How had they settled into this odd place where he spent most of his time unconsciously seeking her out, only to have his heart flip-flop in anticipation once he’d found her?

  Did she feel it too?

  His brow creased when he noted the serious nature of her conversation with the good doctor. Briefly, he wondered if she were conversing with Sumner about a medical complaint—did she worry that she’d contracted the measles?

  As soon as the thought appeared, he pushed it away. Judging by the way she’d been charging around town with her usual spirit and flair for the dramatic, she didn’t need the doctor’s medical advice.

  Which meant she’d approached her friend on another matter.

  Maybe an affair of the heart?

  Stop it!

  Just because he’d begun to follow her every move like a young lad in the throes of puppy love didn’t mean that she felt anything of the kind herself. Lydia was a woman of the world, highly educated, driven and a self-proclaimed suffragist. She wouldn’t think along those lines. Men were superfluous for women of her ilk. She longed to take the stage and flood the theater with fiery discourse in order to change
the world for women. And Gideon had to grudgingly admit that he’d love to see her in her element. Although he’d never really thought much about women’s suffrage, he could imagine the fire in her eyes and the high color in her cheeks once Lydia had been given a lectern and an audience.

  But that would never happen here. Not in Aspen Valley. So, it was unlikely that Gideon would ever have a chance to hear one of her speeches.

  “She’s confused, you know.”

  Gideon looked up to find he wasn’t alone in the darkness. Iona Skye had somehow approached and stood only a few feet away. Honestly, the situation with the women was becoming increasingly intolerable if they were able to wander around town so openly with nary a guard in sight. Gideon knew he should put his foot down, right now, march into the cook shack, and order his men to get these women under control and sequestered in the Dovecote.

  But he didn’t have the heart to do it. Not when they would be gone soon.

  He pushed himself to his feet. “Would you like to sit down?”

  Iona seemed surprised by the invitation. Obviously, she’d expected him to order her back inside with the other women.

  “Thank you. It grew so warm in the cook shack that I came out for a breath of fresh air before things grew too cold.”

  She sat on the bench, arranging her skirts so that he could sit beside her. “It’s a lovely night, isn’t it?”

  Gideon glanced up at the ever-darkening sky, at the stars glittering like chips of ice.

  “Yes. It is.”

  Iona gestured above her. “This is one of the things that first struck me upon my arrival in Aspen Valley. I spent most of my life in New York. There, the stars seemed much fainter and a million miles away. Here, it feels as if a body could reach up and snatch one of them from the sky.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  Silence spooled between them for a few moments. But Gideon found that the quiet wasn’t uncomfortable. Quite the contrary, in fact.

  “Do you care for her?”

  Too late, he realized that his gaze had strayed to Lydia again. He opened his mouth to offer an immediate denial, but found he couldn’t say the words. Mere days ago, he would have scoffed at the idea that he would have tender feelings for anyone, let alone the indomitable Lydia Tomlinson. Now...