Last Chance Wife

by Janette Foreman

  Had he helped her get out?

  Was he praying for her?

  “Ewan.”

  Her voice came out scratchier than she’d hoped. He jumped at the sound of his name. Eyes wide, Ewan leaned in and scanned every bit of her face with urgency. “Win?”

  He breathed her name like it was precious gold itself. A nickname. A nickname?

  Leaning closer, he continued to search her face. “Win?”

  The sound was like soft kid leather against her skin. Blinking, she managed a nod. “Yes.”

  “Oh, thank You, Lord.” His voice rushed through a breathy whisper. “I thought—I feared that...” He trailed off as his eyes softened into gray pools.

  His hand moved to her face, warm against her cheek. Soft and tender, as though he treasured her. Her eyes widened. She didn’t have the strength to jump away, but—did she want to?

  Just as quickly as his touch set her skin aflame, Ewan pulled his hand away, like he’d been burned, too.

  “I—” He swallowed. Blinked. Met her eyes for an instant before glancing away. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to—” He stood and looked around, rubbing his hands on his mud-encrusted trousers. “I’ll let Cassandra know you’re awake.” With that, he rushed from the nook.

  Beyond the curtain, a door shut, leaving her alone in the silent kitchen. But even lying alone for several minutes, Winifred’s heartbeat refused to slow as she remembered the feel of Ewan’s hand on her cheek, the look in his eyes, the urgency in his voice—as he called her Win.

  This reaction was ten times what she’d felt from touching his hand in the woods. But how, just from a little brush against her face, like butterfly wings? And yet, it’d affected her deeply. What was happening?

  Chapter Ten

  The cave-in, along with the stamp breakdown, had jarred the entire staff. For the next week, Ewan felt like everyone floated through their work. Sleepwalked, maybe, himself included. All while Winifred lay in bed, healing under Cassandra’s skilled guidance.

  To find out the source of its collapse, he’d set aside a portion of his salary to hire an expert’s analysis. If results came back showing someone had tampered with equipment or weakened the structure within the stope somehow, then the guilty party had better leave town before Ewan found out who he or she was. The whole notion that someone would put his workers, his friends, in harm’s way made him sick.

  The letters in his suit coat pocket flapped against his torso, one of them reminding him how he’d fallen short. He hated asking Father for funds. It certainly wouldn’t impress Mr. Johns. Instead of being as successful as his brother, Ewan had only proved his father right—coming to Deadwood had become a foolhardy mission that would end in heartache.

  His other letter to mail? To his pen pal. A light in his shadowy world. Strangely, he had checked with Sol Star earlier in the week and nothing had arrived for him. They had exchanged letters like clockwork recently. He probably should’ve waited to write again until he heard from her, but he couldn’t help composing another missive. Ever since his manager had pointed it out, Ewan had realized the man was right. He found himself attracted to TD. She intrigued him, comforted him, gave him the friendship and deep conversational connection he craved in a wife. If only she were interested in exploring a romantic relationship.

  As he approached the post office, he spotted Winifred coming toward him from the direction of the Golden Star, her gown swishing over the dirt street before she stepped up onto the boardwalk. Without warning, his heartbeat stumbled.

  He didn’t want to have feelings for Winifred Sattler. She was all wrong for him. Lively and fun, often too talkative, and too nosy. She couldn’t go a full day without causing some sort of disturbance—or necessitating the occasional rescue.

  His stomach tightened at the memory of how that cave-in could easily have taken her life. Of course, that had scared him. But what scared him almost as much were the emotions that had come over him when Winifred woke up. He couldn’t believe himself. Touching her face, calling her Win? What had he been thinking?

  Perhaps he hadn’t been thinking at all. Must not have been, if he’d allowed her spunk to creep into his heart and stake a claim. He’d already been down this road with Marilee. How many times did he have to remind himself of that fact? Fun, vibrant women were wrong for him. Why couldn’t his traitorous heart enjoy a steady, straightforward woman for once?

  And of course, the irony hadn’t escaped him that he had feelings for two women. Neither of whom, he could—or should—have.

  Looking up as she neared, Winifred spotted him and released a small, reserved smile. Which was so unlike her. Did she feel as awkward about last week’s encounter as he did?

  Gripping his hands, Ewan forced away the memory of her cheek’s warmth and offered his own cordial smile. “Good morning. Feeling better today?”

  “I am. Thank you. The ache in my head has finally subsided.”

  Ewan nodded. Silence stretched between them, and finding himself at a loss for words, he sidestepped to the post office door. “I wish you the best with your downtown errands, then. I’m off to mail a letter.”

  “That’s where I’m heading, too.” She lifted the leather valise she carried and stepped toward the door, a slight blush covering her cheeks.

  “Oh.” Moving back, he opened the door as his mother’s teachings flowed through his actions. “After you.”

  Dipping her chin in a thank-you, she walked inside, her heels clicking across the floor in slow steps. Hanging back by the door, Ewan allowed Winifred to make her way to the counter in privacy. She didn’t need him hovering over her like some overprotective chaperone. It didn’t matter to him who received her letters. A beau back home, most likely. She’d never mentioned one, but surely someone like her had one—maybe scores of suitors waited for her return.

  The postmaster’s eyes lit when he looked up from a note he’d scribbled. “Miss Sattler.” When his gaze passed her and landed on Ewan, his brows rose for an instant before he masked his...his what? Surprise? Though Ewan didn’t know why the man would be surprised to see him here. Since TD had come into his life, Ewan had likely become Star’s most frequent patron.

  “Morning, Mr. Burke,” the man said with a nod.

  “Good morning,” Ewan replied with a nod of his own.

  Winifred cleared her throat. “I have a letter to mail. As well as a telegram.” She unhooked the strap on her valise and withdrew an envelope before slipping it across the counter.

  Star took the letter and smiled as he passed her a telegram slip. “I have one for you, too. I’ll be right back.”

  As Winifred waited for him to return, she stood with her back as straight as a board, staring forward as she filled out the telegram form.

  He couldn’t help but watch her, observe her. The silent memory of her too-still frame in the stope still cut him down at the knees. Of all the injuries and disasters he had endured as owner of the Golden Star, this particular scare had terrified him the most. But why? Why did the mere idea of this woman in danger have the potential to frighten him senseless?

  “Here you are.” Star returned from the back room and slid an envelope across the counter.

  Winifred snatched it up and stuffed it into her valise without reading who it was from, glancing at Ewan over her shoulder before turning back to Star. “Thank you.”

  She paid for her telegram, then stepped away from the counter and nodded to Ewan, as if to signal that she’d finished her business. He expected her to walk out as he approached the counter, but she didn’t—only lingered near the front door, as he had.

  Clearing his throat, Ewan shuffled his envelopes so the one to Father sat on top before passing them both across the counter. Winifred was too far away to see the writing on his envelope to his pen pal, but that didn’t mean he wanted to take the risk. One little glimpse would tell her it didn
’t list a recipient’s address. And if she asked, he didn’t know how to tell her he had sought a wife through the mail. There were some things that affected a man’s pride too much.

  Ewan lifted his eyes and caught Star smiling. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He took Ewan’s letters and backed up. “Just happy to say you have mail.”

  Did he have to sound so obvious? Ewan schooled his features, hoping red didn’t climb his neck. “Thank you.”

  When Star returned with the envelope—so obviously doodled upon—he pushed it across the counter in as concealed of a manner as Ewan had done with his—for which he was thankful.

  Pocketing the letter, he thanked Star, who continued to wear an incredibly odd smile, and left the post office. Winifred stepped out first and fell in beside him as they ambled back to the mine. Usually he preferred silence, but today was shaping up to be a strange day.

  “So—” he toed a pebble as he walked “—sending a telegram to your family?”

  “My aunt and uncle. To let them know I almost have enough fare, and that I’m coming home soon. Though it took a little of my money to send the telegram...” She shrugged, watching her skirt swish over the road. “You?”

  “Yes, to my father.” Never mind the second letter. “He likes to be updated on my progress from time to time.”

  “Any good news to share?” She let out a little gasp. “You didn’t tell him about the cave-in, did you?”

  “No, I left that part out...” He stole a sideways glance at her. “Although, while we’re on the subject, I wish you had never gone in there.”

  “Oh, me too.” Winifred glanced at the sky, a little of her usual animated inflection seeping back into her voice. “I was so conflicted the entire time. But they promised I wouldn’t be in the way, and besides that, I thought maybe I could find out if someone is trying to hurt your mine.”

  “Did you find out anything?”

  Her shoulders sagged. “Not really.”

  “Well, at any rate, I’m glad you’re safe.” Crossing his arms, Ewan watched the road near his feet. “Also, I know about the drawings in the miners’ lunch pails.”

  He’d extensively interviewed the men involved in the cave-in, knew of their innocent yet careless plan to have Winifred draw sketches of them at work to send home to their families. Of all people, those men should’ve known the dangers they were exposing Winifred to. As punishment, he’d suspended them each a week without pay, hoping it would motivate them to think about what they had done.

  “Ewan, I’m so sorry.” She clasped his sleeve in her hand, pausing where the Golden Star’s walkway met the road. “I never expected my drawings to end up like every other blunder I’ve made here. Worse, even.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “They weren’t a blunder. The sketches were a nice surprise. I didn’t even know you liked to draw.”

  She shrugged. “It’s something to do.”

  He suspected she was being humble. “Well, the men really appreciated the gesture. But may I ask, why did you draw pictures for them in the first place?”

  Wide, blue-gray eyes gazed up at him as she seemed to prepare herself for the explanation. “I wanted to give the men a reason to look forward to coming to work each day. A surprise that cost the mine nothing. A spot of sunshine.”

  The pieces began to click together. “You did this to help the mine?” To help me?

  With hesitation, she nodded—as if she thought he would be mad. But how could he be? She’d known his frustrations with the mine, his constant effort to cut costs and keep the business afloat. And, without spending a dime of the mine’s money, she’d rallied the miners together, boosting their zeal. All with a simple stack of pencil sketches.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Brown hair brushed across her forehead, and her dangling red earrings caught the sunlight. Striking. Everything about Winifred was striking.

  Wait. What was he thinking? Blinking, Ewan dipped his chin and took a step back, putting more distance between them. The sketches were simply acts of kindness on Winifred’s part. Yes, he was touched, but that didn’t negate her carelessness in so many other things. Speaking her mind too boldly, rearranging his store without asking, nearly killing herself in the stamp mill, venturing into the mine without him—

  “Thank you for saving me, by the way.” Giving him a small, shy smile, she continued up the front walk.

  Managing a smile in return, Ewan slanted her a glance. “Of course.”

  “When I was younger, I fell into a narrow ravine,” she said. “I was twirling with my eyes closed, and I didn’t see it until my foot slipped. I had to wait hours before my aunt came looking for me. It was one of the scariest experiences of my life until last week.” She paused in thought. “It’s interesting how our childhood experiences shape our lives.”

  His shoes scuffed against the wooden walk. “I’ve seen my share of cave-ins, but this one scared me more than most.”

  “Oh?”

  Listen to him. Entirely too personal, too vulnerable. Time to return to topics of business. “And I didn’t tell you, but the day of the cave-in, one of my stamps broke.”

  “Oh, no. What will you do?”

  He shrugged. “Fix it. Somehow.”

  She frowned. “You don’t have the finances to do so.”

  Ewan pursed his lips. “Yes, thank you for the reminder.” He huffed a weak laugh and opened the shop door. “And now I need to fix a drift and a stope, too.”

  She nudged brown wisps off her neck. “What you need is to earn money quickly. Like with a fund-raiser or an auction.”

  “Yes, because gold mines do that sort of thing.” Chuckling, he entered after Winifred—but nearly bumped into her as she halted in the doorway.

  Two men in suits, hair slicked back beneath their hats, stood at the counter. Ewan’s chest tightened.

  Delia popped to attention at the sight of him. “These gentlemen are here to see you, Mr. Burke.” Her fingers trembled against the countertop. Had these men, the owners of the Sphinx Mine to the north, insulted or intimidated her?

  “Mr. Burke.” Mac Glouster removed his hat, and his brother, Bradford, followed suit. Their confident smiles only served to irritate him. “We’d like a word with you.”

  “I don’t recall us having an appointment.” Ewan looked from one Glouster brother to the other.

  “Just the same, we think you’ll like what we’ve come to offer you,” Mac replied.

  Ewan glanced at Winifred. She hung back by the threshold, as if she didn’t know whether she should go up to his office and work, as she normally did this time of day, or stay in the shop. Oddly, he kind of wished for her to accompany him. But that desire didn’t make any sense.

  “Miss Sattler, can you help Miss Richardson in the store for a few minutes?”

  Winifred ran her hands down the front of her skirt panel. Finally, she nodded and slipped behind the counter.

  Ewan let a couple of seconds tick by before he gave the men an answer. “All right, follow me, please.” With straightened shoulders, he led the way down the corridor and up the winding stairs. Lord, give me strength to deal with whatever they have to say.

  * * *

  Winifred continued to watch the door after it shut behind Ewan and his visitors.

  “I thought they’d never leave.” Delia collapsed against the counter as if her stamina had finally given out. “You came at the right time. I had no idea what else to say to them.”

  “You don’t think they’ll try to badger Ewan, do you?”

  “All I know is I didn’t get a good feeling from ’em.” Delia seated herself on a stool and sighed. “Mr. Burke isn’t the type to be pushed around. He’ll be fine.”

  Of course he’d be fine. Winifred worried too much. She leaned her hip against the counter and crossed her arms, pushing asi
de thoughts of him upstairs battling those men for his business. “Any sales yet today?”

  “A few, but not many.” Sighing, Delia leaned her elbows on the counter and surveyed the sales log outstretched before her.

  Winifred approached to look as well.

  “One man told me we have nice supplies, but he always forgets we’re here. You know, being at the end of a long street of other shops.” She plopped her chin in her hands and stared at something beyond the sales log. “I think we need to attract more attention in this direction.”

  “That’s probably true. It couldn’t hurt, at least.” Winifred joined Delia at the counter, also propping up her chin. They both stared out over the customerless store. “We also need to find a way to save the mine.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Winifred shrugged. “It’s not doing so well. But most of that is because of recent expenses that have been out of Ewan’s control.” She glanced at Delia, weighing if she could trust her with more information. “I think someone is trying to harm the mine.”

  Delia gasped. “Really?”

  “I have no proof yet, but when I worked through his expense reports, I saw things I’d consider strange.” She shrugged. “I’ll keep looking into it. Anyway, in the meantime, I need to find a foolproof way to help the mine make more profit to counterbalance recent, excessive costs. But everything I’ve tried has gotten me in trouble with Ewan.”

  “That man is a complete mystery.” Delia sighed. “But a handsome mystery, at least.”

  The statement left Winifred speechless. She simply swung her gaze to meet the store clerk’s and raised a brow.

  Delia laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in him. I’ve sworn off men for quite a while.”

  Weight hung beneath her joking tone. Winifred could hear it even if Delia tried her best to keep her turmoil hidden. She certainly felt proud of how much the spunky woman had blossomed, how well she’d adapted to her new life.