Mr. Johns’s squint had a death grip of resolution. “With your father and Miss Sattler’s uncle coming up anyway, I figured now was as good a time as any.” His hooded eyes scanned the room behind his spectacles, stopping on Winifred. “Ma’am, your uncle has been mighty worried about you.”
“And he came running to me as soon as he got your cryptic telegram.” Mr. Burke rolled his eyes. “Seemed to think my son had kidnapped you or some other ridiculous notion.”
“What was I supposed to think?” Uncle removed his hat, mussing the back of his feathery white hair. “She says she’s stuck in Deadwood with Ewan Burke, and I’m supposed to be fine with it? We all know how he left town with the two of you on bad terms—after all the bad publicity with that Erikson girl. For all I know, he’s a rascal, running a shady business up here, away from your watchful eye.”
“Uncle! What a terrible way to speak of Ewan.”
Uncle Wilbur’s brows flew upward. “Ewan?”
Uh oh. Openmouthed, she searched for some way to reply when Ewan stepped through the circle, clapping Mr. Johns on the back to redirect the conversation as he guided him away.
“Mr. Johns.” Ewan cleared his throat. “Over the past couple of months, we’ve cut costs and raised morale. And there’s an impressive vein of ore you will definitely want to see in the mountain. We’re just beginning to excavate, but if it’s the size we suspect, it should vastly improve the Golden Star’s financial situation. If you’ll follow me, I’d be happy to show it to you.”
Winifred watched them cross the shop. The confidence Ewan exuded as he ushered the older man toward the hallway door...it was breathtaking. How ever could he keep his calm in these dreadful circumstances?
“I’m coming, too,” Ewan’s father announced, trekking across the floor after the men.
Uncle Wilbur tugged on her sleeve. “While we’re looking at gold, you can go pack your bags.”
Ewan stiffened. Winifred whirled toward her uncle, hoping he hadn’t meant what that had sounded like. “Do what, Uncle?”
“You heard me. Go pack your bags and things.”
“Now?”
“Yes, we’re leaving tomorrow on the first stage. So don’t dally, child.”
“But—”
“I can see your obstinate nature has grown since you’ve been gone.” He tucked away his timepiece, his face turning a reddish hue. “I told you I came to fetch you, and that is exactly what I’m doing.”
Her mind raced. Yes, she’d planned to leave—soon—but not tomorrow. Her time at the Golden Star had slipped through her fingers before she’d known it. Winifred glanced at Delia’s worried expression, and at Ewan’s back, where he stood motionless at the door.
“Please. Do as you are told.” Though still resolute, at least the anger she’d heard moments ago in Uncle’s voice had begun to diminish. “You may ask any questions you’d like while we’re on the stage, but until then, I’m sure you have much to do to prepare.”
Winifred took a step backward, searching to make sense of this situation. To understand why it was happening now, in this way. What about having time to say goodbye without her uncle looking on?
No, she wouldn’t get that luxury.
Without another word, she followed Ewan and the others out of the shop and into the hallway. As she headed straight to the kitchen, and they turned right to the side door, Ewan spun toward her.
“W—Miss Sattler?”
She halted. Dragged in a shuddered breath. Slowly, she turned around.
Ewan swallowed, shifting his weight to the other foot. “Your portion of the reopening sales is sitting on the desk in my office. If you happen to...finish packing...before I’m through showing these gentlemen around, you have my permission to go in and pick it up.”
That’s right. So she could leave without a trace—without even a warm goodbye. After all, she was only a temporary employee.
Her eyes misted. Oh, stupid emotions. She’d known it would come to this, right? Had feared it. Blinking, she pursed her lips and gave a definitive nod. “Thank you, M-Mr. Burke.”
Hopefully she turned away quickly enough that he wouldn’t catch sight of the tears slipping down her cheeks.
* * *
In the cold morning, white puffs of air left Ewan’s lungs as he strode toward the mountain. With Mr. Johns, Father and Mr. Dawson flanking him, he forced down the nerves building in his chest. The investor had come a month early. No doubt his inspection would reveal the broken cam and the ruined platform. The cave-ins. Hadn’t the man the common courtesy to send a telegram ahead of time, alerting Ewan of the visit?
And his father, seeing the Golden Star for the first time. What would he say about the place?
At the mine’s adit, Ewan took his lantern down from the spike. “Follow me, please.”
Mr. Johns looked less than pleased to be jaunting off into the mountain, but he followed without complaint. Father and Mr. Dawson seemed a little more interested, if not scrutinizing. Ewan reminded himself that he had nothing to be worried about. All the men needed to see was the vein. Surely that would redeem their opinions of the mine.
The light of Ewan’s lantern bounced off the walls ahead as they walked in silence, their scuffing footsteps accompanied by dripping water and far-off echoes of miners’ work.
“Will you still return to the Black Hills in a month, Mr. Johns, as originally planned?”
He heard Mr. Johns exhale. “Yes. For a different mine in which I’ve invested.”
Tempted, he wanted to ask which one, but decided it would be considered bad form. “I think you’ll like what you’ll see in this new stope.”
Mr. Johns grunted. “I will be satisfied with numbers on paper.”
Somehow Ewan doubted that, what with the stubbornness this man had already shown. It was as if the investor had been against Ewan from the start. But Ewan wouldn’t grow disheartened at the man’s current indifference. Mr. Johns needed evidence that the Golden Star was worth investing in—and he would soon receive it. “Only a few yards more, and we’ll reach the mouth.”
God, if there is any way You can see fit to have Mr. Johns approve an investment, please make it happen.
Up ahead at the drift’s corner, a light illuminated the far wall. When one of his miners turned the corner and spotted them, he blew out his candle ration, considering Ewan’s lantern gave off enough light to fill the space.
“Mr. Burke?” The miner came closer, feet scuffing along rock, and sent a quick glance at the extra men, then back to Ewan. “I was just comin’ to fetch ya, boss.”
“For what purpose?”
“We, uh, have a situation.” The man glanced at the others again. “We found another drift.”
A warning ticked through Ewan’s ratcheting heartbeat, though he worked to hide it. “Found another drift?”
“Leading to our stope. The one with the large vein.”
The pit of Ewan’s stomach dropped. “Show me where.”
Lantern light leading the way, Ewan and the three men followed the miner farther into the mountain. With each step, Ewan’s hopes grew darker and darker. He wanted to ask questions, but his thoughts were frozen. When they reached the spot where the vein loomed over them—the place Ewan had envisioned would appear so impressive to Mr. Johns—the miner joined his fellow workers and pointed out a hole in the wall.
Lifting his lantern higher, Ewan stepped closer. The hole, no bigger than a loaf of bread, showed...sure enough, another drift. Empty now, but by the looks of the beams in place to support the tunnel, someone had been working quite diligently.
Palms slicking with sweat, Ewan swung his lantern back in the direction they had come, trying to remember how many steps he’d taken. “Men?” He swiveled toward his workers. “We are still on Golden Star property, correct?”
“Yes, sir,” one said. “W
e checked lots of times.”
“And that drift?” He jutted his thumb toward the hole.
The men’s faces went grim. “Our property, too.”
Ewan closed his eyes. Not this. Especially not now. “And the Sphinx property...”
“We’ve got several yards before we reach them.” The miner rubbed his dirty face with a muddy hand. “Sorry, boss.”
“The neighboring property undermined you?” Father’s voice echoed from behind Ewan, jarring him clear through.
Ewan ignored him for now. There would be plenty of time to hear his opinion on the matter. “How did they find out about this spot?”
The men, wide-eyed, shrugged each in turn. “Don’t know, boss,” one said. “We talk about it at meals, but not to the public. I ain’t even said a word to my wife.”
The others shared similar sentiments.
“Well, it sounds like you’ve got an informant to me,” his father responded, followed by a huff. “I’d do a thorough examination if I were you, Ewan. Question everyone. No one can be trusted.”
Except acting without trust would be a betrayal of so many of his men who’d seemed genuinely excited by these turn of events. Several had stopped by his office to express how enjoyable their work had been in the past few weeks, not to mention the security they felt now in knowing about the mother lode. None of them would jeopardize the mine by leading their competition straight to the treasure.
Grip tightening on the lantern handle, Ewan forced his thoughts to stay rational. Someone had let the word leak to outside sources. Hopefully by accident...though, coupling this incident with all his previous suspicions of sabotage, he highly doubted it.
“Wait—” A miner near the outskirts of the group lifted his head. “I just remembered someone on the night shift mentionin’ it over breakfast at our boardinghouse. It was such a simple conversation, really, mixed in with other things. I nearly forgot about it.”
“Which night-shift worker?” Ewan lifted his lantern higher.
“Works in the stamp mill. Tall, gangly. Wild hair. Young.”
Ewan’s muscles solidified, growing rigid all along his neck and arms. He heard his father and the others shift behind him, and heat coursed over Ewan’s skin. Why in the world was Charlie Danielson talking publicly about the vein of gold?
Chapter Fourteen
Ewan pushed through the side door of his office building and into the corridor, leaving the older men outside to bicker among themselves. He needed time alone to process what he’d learned. He’d been bludgeoned by the realization that Charlie Danielson had betrayed him.
Earlier, after Ewan and the others left the mine, they’d gone straight to the boardinghouse where Danielson lived and woken him from a dead sleep to find out the truth. Presenting him with all the facts, and bringing up the multiple acts of sabotage, had caused the young man to buckle beneath the pressure. He confessed everything, down to removing the nails beneath the platform in the stamp mill.
Ewan paced the hall, staring at the floor, too agitated to climb the stairs to his office but unsure of where else to go. He’d trusted the man, allowed him access to the mine’s resources and permitted him to watch over the well-being of his crew. For the reward of a bonus and a job with the Sphinx, Charlie had willingly put dozens of people in danger.
Soon, he would need to inform his workers. But for now, he only wanted to confide in one person. In—
“Win.” Ewan stopped short as he looked up from the floor into the woman’s eyes.
Halting in the corridor, Winifred shoved her arms behind her back. “Ewan. I thought you took the men on a tour...is everything all right?”
His gaze traveled over her attire—the kitchen apron over her dress, a smudge of flour on her cheek. “I thought you were packing.”
“I was—but since we’re not leaving until tomorrow, I thought I’d help Granna Cass with one more batch of biscuits. And then I was going to run an errand.”
She took what looked like an envelope from behind her back and shoved it into her apron pocket, so quickly Ewan hardly registered it. He took a few swift steps toward her and grabbed her hands in his, startling her. “I have to tell you something important. It can’t wait.”
Her grasp tightened around his fingers. “What is it?”
“The Sphinx Mine found out about the mother lode. Their claim being directly next to mine, they drove a neat little drift onto my property and helped themselves.”
She gasped. “No.”
“Yes.”
“When did you find out?”
“Just now, in the mountain.”
“Oh, my.” She pulled one hand away to cover her cheek as the information processed through her. “Is there any gold left?”
“Some, but who knows how much the Sphinx has already taken, how much they’ve already spent? I don’t know how much was there to begin with.”
Her beautiful brow pinched. “But aren’t their actions illegal? They were on your land. Surely there are repercussions.”
“There won’t be a record of the Sphinx’s earnings, and the gold could be anywhere by now. Crushed up and mixed in with theirs. Reporting it won’t guarantee I’ll see any financial returns.” He shrugged, trying to deflect the pain that burned through his chest, when all he really wanted to do was collapse against the wall, defeated. “Besides that, I seriously doubt Mr. Johns will invest in the Golden Star now.”
“Don’t say that, Ewan. We don’t know that for certain.”
Her gaze searched his, and for a rare moment, he longed to bask in her naive sunshine. A rare moment that was becoming not so rare, he realized. Ewan’s fingers trailed up to cup her soft cheek. Such a precious jewel. She had been here when he’d needed someone the most, and he’d miss her terribly when she left tomorrow.
“Stay longer, Win.” The words ached in his heart. “Don’t leave so soon.”
Her eyes widened, and the beat of his heart jolted.
Oh, no. He’d spoken before thinking. Every word was true—he meant them fully—but by the look on her face, maybe he ought to have kept his wishes to himself.
Nearby, a masculine throat cleared.
Ewan and Winifred jumped apart. Standing on the threshold of the side door, Wilbur Dawson glowered at him, looking as dangerous as a bull caught on the wrong side of the fence. When had he entered? His glare shot spears through Ewan’s chest—but before anyone could speak, the door opened again and Mr. Johns entered, followed by Father.
Winifred scurried back toward the kitchen, her plum-colored skirts disappearing through the doorway, and Ewan retreated up the stairs to the safety of his office, though of course, the men followed.
“You’ve always known I don’t approve of your mine, son, but nevertheless, I thought you would be above this sort of thing.” Father’s voice came from farther down the stairwell.
How many times since they’d left the mine did Father have to state his disappointment? Ewan entered his office and paced near his desk. He’d just asked Winifred to stay longer. For what purpose? Hadn’t he told her last night that he chose the wrong girls, implying she was one of them? Dash it to the rocks, but he was confused. He wanted to see if their relationship could blossom, and yet he was afraid to even consider the idea. To top it off, she might see his request as an emotional response to his discovery of the Sphinx’s crooked ways, or because of his concerns that Mr. Johns wouldn’t invest in his company. The last thing he wanted to do was string her along, to make her feel that he wanted her for nothing more than emotional support.
“I thought sending Richard Johns to finance this place might make it worthwhile, but there’s nothing you can do to save it now,” Father continued. “Too much damage has been done.”
“I’ve had setbacks, but the mine is still producing plenty of gold, Father. Now that I’ve fired Danielson, I can turn things ar
ound—”
“I wish that were true, but history will only repeat itself through another offender.” Father folded his arms. “A bad apple spoils the whole bushel. I should have known it would end this way. You get your hopes up too high and trust too easily. It’s why you shouldn’t own a business like this, especially far from home where I can’t advise you on whom to depend. You should come back to Denver and work for your brother.”
Gritting his teeth, Ewan glanced at Mr. Johns, who hadn’t said a word to him since they’d found the secret drift. The investor simply took a seat in the corner, rolling his thumb across his fingertips in a thoughtful manner. Surely he would pull his potential support now. The prospect had only been a glimmer of hope anyway. Ewan straightened his spine and reminded himself that the mine could survive this blow. He still needed an investor to bring his business to a thriving level, but it wouldn’t go under now that he’d caught the culprit.
Ewan stopped behind his desk and braced his arms against it. “I’m a grown man, Father. I understand how to run a business.”
“Apparently not. What kind of environment is this that one of your own employees would leak information about a mother lode to your neighbor, your competition?”
“The promise of a higher-paying job was worth the exchange to him.” Mr. Johns finally spoke up. “Not enough respect existed between employer and employee.”
“He told us he thought we’d go under. He acted out of fear.”
Ewan’s remark caused Father to pin him with a cautionary look. “I don’t know why you’re defending him. He collapsed your business.”
Every muscle in Ewan’s body tightened at the notion of failure. “It hasn’t collapsed yet.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Burke,” Mr. Johns said, leaning forward, “I believe the problems with the Golden Star Mine are inherent and irreversible. Throwing money at this type of hemorrhage will only prolong the bleeding.”
Ice seeped through Ewan’s veins as he made eye contact with the investor. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying even your employees don’t have faith in this company. Why should I?” He tugged out his pocket square and touched his nose with it. “I won’t be investing my money here. You can be certain of that.”
Last Chance Wife Page 19
