Last Chance Wife

by Janette Foreman

  The finality of Mr. Johns’s decision, his indifferent air and his certainty in Ewan’s failure shook through Ewan and destroyed his confidence. Silence rang in his ears. Everything he’d worked so hard for dissolved in front of him. His plans. His future. And if his mine couldn’t weather this blow, he’d also lose his home and his ministry. He’d clung to the last thread he had, and with one sentence, Mr. Johns had snipped him loose.

  Ewan rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding the men’s gazes. “Well. I suppose that settles that.” He took a seat at his desk and pulled out his ledger. Might as well start figuring out his next plan of attack since he wouldn’t have any help from these men. “I think we’re done here, gentlemen. If you’d step out, please? I’d prefer to be alone.”

  “If I may, Mr. Burke.” Wilbur Dawson spoke up, “I’d like to have a private word with you before you get too engrossed in your books.”

  * * *

  Winifred shut her trunk. “That’s the last of it, I think.”

  Granna Cass handed off the bag of baked goods she’d packed. “That’s it, then.”

  Winifred accepted the bag and placed it into her stack of luggage, and with it, a piece of her feeble mask dropped off. Ewan had asked her to stay longer. What did it mean? She’d tried her best to remain strong as she filled her final pieces of luggage, but that resolve had worn threadbare.

  She should leave tomorrow, right? Shouldn’t stay. Not after his rejection last night. But what if he’d had a change of heart? She still hadn’t told him they were writing each other.

  “Honey child, you know you’re welcome here anytime, don’t you?” The old woman grappled for Winifred to envelop her in a hug. “This doesn’t have to be goodbye forever.”

  “Thank you.” But underneath the sentiment, Winifred could sense that neither of them believed she’d return. When would she ever have a reason to come back to Deadwood? “At least goodbye isn’t officially until tomorrow. Right now, I need to pick up my money from Ewan’s office and run an errand downtown, but then I’ll be back to taste one of those fresh biscuits, all right?”

  Granna Cass smiled one of those smiles that filled Winifred with buttery warmth. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be waiting.”

  Leaving the kitchen and the scent of baking biscuits, Winifred made her way to Ewan’s office. In the silence of the hallway, her dizzying thoughts finally came to a head, and Ewan filled her mind again. What should she say to his request? It was all she’d ever wanted from him...except it would mean opening her heart to him again. Could she be so brave?

  Maybe, if he was in his office now, she’d wait until he was gone to get her money. Unless, between here and his door, she could decide what she wanted.

  Footsteps echoed on the stairs above her, and soon Mr. Johns and Ewan’s father appeared. Nodding a cordial greeting, Winifred stepped aside to let the men pass. Where was Uncle? Had he gone to the office with the others? She’d fled the confrontation downstairs so fast she hadn’t paid attention to which way everyone went.

  Reaching the office, she inhaled and thought to give the door a quick knock. No, listening for voices would be wiser—she didn’t want to interrupt. Winifred leaned close to the door.

  “What did you want to say to me, Mr. Dawson?” Ewan’s voice.

  Silence followed for a long, drawn-out moment. As if a storm were about to hit. What were they doing? If only the door had been left ajar. Winifred pressed her ear closer.

  “Mr. Burke,” Uncle said, his words slow, calculating, “you may not know this, but my darling niece has been entrusted to my care since she was six years old. I don’t take that responsibility lightly, if you catch my meaning.”

  “I do.”

  Oh, dear. Winifred would rather have sunk into a hole and hidden forever than overhear such a mortifying conversation.

  “I would assume you take nearly as much responsibility for the well-being of your company.”

  “That I do, sir. This place means a great deal to me.”

  “Hmm...” her uncle mused, and she could almost see him crossing the room slowly, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “Yet it’s obvious you also care for my niece.”

  “I do, sir. Winifred is a special woman.”

  “Except you know she’d never choose a fledgling gold miner who might lose his business. Especially not when much stronger prospects await her in Denver.”

  Winifred gasped. Nearly pushed open the door, too, to protest her uncle’s accusations, but Ewan’s response caused her to wait.

  “You underestimate your niece, sir. She may be a dreamer, but she has a head on her shoulders, too. She’s driven and won’t be persuaded into anything she doesn’t want.”

  Her heart sang Ewan’s praises. Maybe she should stay, see if anything could become of them together.

  “Yes, she is driven. And what about you, Mr. Burke? What drives you through life?” Uncle’s voice grew streamlined and on edge. “This land, the water? The desire to be a gold tycoon?”

  “I didn’t start this business for the money.”

  “Then why did you start it?”

  Ewan seemed to hesitate. Tears pricked Winifred’s eyes. The poor man sat in there, vulnerable beneath her uncle’s stinging words. Why was Uncle speaking that way?

  “It doesn’t matter why I started the business,” Ewan finally explained, his voice even. “What matters is what I do with it. Right now, it provides work for those who can’t find work elsewhere.”

  “Yes, your father mentioned the charity work. Thus, I have a proposition for you.”

  Leaning closer, Winifred couldn’t help but pin her hope on whatever Uncle might say.

  “If you love this mine so much, I’ll help you grow it. I’ll give you everything you need to make the Golden Star a thriving contender. I’ll give you money for more stamps, more employees and more equipment. Your downtrodden workers will never want for another job.”

  The promise tugged at Winifred’s chest. Uncle would do that?

  “But?” Ewan prompted.

  “But it will come at a price. I’ll help your business flourish if you stay away from Winifred.”

  She gasped, covering her mouth with both hands to muffle the sound. What a horrible thing for her uncle to suggest, paying Ewan like this, as if he was buying her away from the Golden Star. But on the other hand...what an opportunity for Ewan! What a valuable resource her uncle could be for him if he would just agree. And what did he lose by it? He had already shown that she wasn’t what he sought in a wife. If he refused the offer, he could lose the mine. If he accepted...he lost nothing that he wished to keep.

  “Let me see if I understand,” Ewan said, the timbre of his voice unreadable. “You’ll keep my workers employed if I promise to let Winifred go back to Denver with you, unattached and free to find a more suitable match?”

  “Do you doubt that I can save your mine? I’m a very powerful man, Mr. Burke.”

  “Yes, but...lose Winifred to gain the mine? What kind of twisted proposition is that?”

  Winifred straightened. That foolish man wasn’t going to take Uncle’s offer! He was actually going to sacrifice the jobs of all those people—Delia, George, Lars—and for what? A matter of principle or honor? No, that could not be. She wouldn’t allow it. She couldn’t let him throw their lives away like so much rubbish.

  Turning the knob, she pushed the office door open.

  Uncle stood at the window, Ewan at the corner of his desk. They both flicked their attention to her, the discussion dropping.

  “Winifred?” Uncle pivoted. “Did you need something, darling?”

  “I was thinking that it’d be best to go home today, on the two o’clock stage.” The repercussions of her statement shuddered through her, but she forced her gaze to lock on her uncle’s. “Why wait until tomorrow? I’m packed. Besides, I’ve been missing Aunt Mildred and my li
fe in Denver.” Which was all true...even if it broke her heart to leave Deadwood.

  And Ewan. But she wouldn’t allow her happiness to come at the expense of the mine.

  Her gaze sought out the man she’d be leaving behind. The anguished look in his eyes made hers burn. She almost reconsidered. But she blinked the mist away as she stepped back into the hall. No use prolonging the awkward meeting. “Shall we, Uncle? Leave today?”

  The older man watched her with hands folded behind his back. A quiet expression gentled his face. “I’ll be right down to help with your things.”

  Winifred nodded and shut the door behind her, then untied her apron strings in haste as she ran down the stairs, her heartbeat suddenly picking up pace. Did she understand the consequences of what she’d just done?

  Certainly she did. She was giving Ewan permission to find a steady, serious wife. And saving the mine.

  At least, that would be her heart’s consolation.

  * * *

  “We’re going to miss you, Winnie Sattler.”

  Tears lodged in Winifred’s throat as she stepped into Granna Cass’s embrace. How the old woman managed to sound so strong, Winifred didn’t know. But she desperately prayed for even an ounce of that strength to rub off on her, too.

  “I’m going to miss you even more.” Standing on the road outside the store, Winifred lifted her gaze over Granna Cass’s shoulder to find Delia lingering in the doorway. If she wasn’t mistaken, the young woman’s eyes appeared red and puffy. They had said goodbye a couple of times already, and once more seemed impossible.

  Behind her, Uncle stood with Mr. Johns and Mr. Burke, ready to walk to the station for their exit on the stagecoach. Thanks to the assistance of a few miners, her luggage already waited there.

  She should stop stalling...but there was no sight of Ewan.

  Attempting to stifle her sigh, she stepped out of Granna Cass’s arms. “I suppose I had better go.”

  “No tears, now, honey child.” The woman swiped her weathered brown thumbs beneath Winifred’s eyes. “Or you’ll make the rest of us cry, too.”

  A soft laugh escaped through a sob. “You have my address, correct? Do you promise to write me?”

  “Anything for you, missy.” Granna Cass offered a tight-lipped smile. “And even more importantly, I’ll be praying for you.”

  “I’ll pray for you, too.”

  “The stagecoach leaves soon, Winnie.” Uncle Wilbur appeared beside her. A hint of tenderness softened his voice, as if he realized the difficulty she had in saying goodbye to these people who had become like family. “Thank you, ma’am, for watching out for my niece.”

  “She’s a special girl.” Granna Cass gave Winifred’s hand one last squeeze before letting go. “We’ll always remember her.”

  Inhaling, Winifred turned to go.

  “Wait! I can’t take it.” Delia’s voice rang out as her shoes clomped down the walkway. “It’s not right for you to leave.”

  “Oh, Delia.” Winifred caught her young friend by the shoulders. “Don’t you see? I have to go. My life is in Denver.”

  “No, your life is here, with us.” Her hands waved as she spoke. She shook her head frantically, strands of blond hair slipping from her pins. “I can’t watch you leave like this and ruin your life.”

  Despite the lump in her throat, Winifred laughed a little. “Don’t be ridiculous. I have a whole life waiting for me back home—and you have amazing opportunities waiting here for you.”

  Provided that Ewan took Uncle’s offer to invest. Oh, how she hoped he would.

  “But nothing will be the same here without you.”

  That familiar burn began behind Winifred’s eyes. She threw her arms around Delia for a quick hug. “Be strong. Let God guide you.”

  Then she tore herself away before her heart convinced her she couldn’t leave this place, these people. She had to go. There was no other choice.

  But where was Ewan?

  Then he appeared at the shop door. Tall, resolute, a tree firmly rooted on the threshold. Her heart wanted to run the other way, to protect herself from the great hurt she’d surely feel at approaching him. But leaving without saying goodbye wasn’t an option, either.

  She crossed the slatted front walk and stood before the man who’d been both employer and friend. And possibly could have been more, had they been given the chance, but she couldn’t allow her mind to trespass there.

  A hush fell over them for a moment. “I suppose this is goodbye,” she finally murmured.

  “I suppose so.” Something hard edged his words. She’d wounded him. Her heart couldn’t handle this. Stubborn thing, why wouldn’t it understand that she and Ewan would never suit? Even if he knew she was his writing companion, he wouldn’t be happy with a whimsical woman like her.

  Ewan looked away as the silence bore down on them. Winifred stepped back, and a board squeaked beneath her boot. “I’m eternally grateful for all you have done for me.” The rasp in her quiet voice ripped through her. “I will never forget your courage and your kindness.” The end of the word cut off in a stifled sob.

  Ewan squeezed his eyes shut, the muscles working in his jaw.

  God, give me strength.

  Thankfully, Uncle Wilbur came alongside her and gave her elbow a light tug, signaling that it really was time to go.

  With one final, tear-blurred glance, Winifred took in the property as the man led her to the station. Uncle Wilbur slowed until he kept pace beside her, their feet scraping along the dirt road as carts and wagons passed by. “I know you’ll miss this place, Winnie, dear, but it’s for the best.”

  Winifred mustered a smile. “Thank you, Uncle.”

  Exhaling, he took her hand and patted it before placing it on his arm. “When we arrive home and settle you in, I’ll do some digging and find you a steady match, all right? Then we can put this whole mess behind us.”

  Winifred’s mind flashed to Ewan. Just the mental image of him helped her world shift back into place—until she remembered she could never see him again.

  How could she have been so foolish? For a moment, she had allowed herself to think she’d found the man of her dreams—the one she had foolishly sought through mail-order letters. She had thought try number seven would result in a love everlasting. But the truth stared her in the face—the more she tried to help, the worse she made things become. Always.

  And if she stayed to tell him she was his secret friend, there was the possibility he’d accept her—which would cause him to lose the mine.

  So it was best to leave before she caused such damage.

  Chapter Fifteen

  One more twist, and the cam was secured. “That should do it.”

  Ewan straightened, grease slicking his hands, and inspected his handiwork. Pride surged through him. The cam itself cost quite a bit of his personal salary, so rather than hire someone else to repair it, he’d studied the mechanical workings and installed the new piece himself. And as far as he could tell, he’d done a pretty good job of it.

  Only one way to find out for certain. “Marcus,” he called down from the repaired upper platform, “turn her on!”

  The manager cleared his throat, and his boots clipped across the wooden floor until Ewan could see him over the platform’s edge. “Actually, boss, if you don’t mind, there’s something else we need to do first.”

  “What is it?”

  “Come down and see.”

  Curiosity heightened, Ewan took the stairs. What could be more important than this work, which was the only thing that had kept him going these past few days? A week had passed since Danielson was fired and Winifred left for Denver with her uncle. Every time Ewan passed through the store, he tried not to imagine the beautiful woman who used to stand at that counter and drive him mad with her restless habit of rearranging his merchandise. It was har
dest when he sat in his office, seeing her graceful hand around the room, where she had organized his files, updated his records and made things run smoother than he could’ve done on his own.

  That’s the way she was. Selfless, working tirelessly for others—for the mine. For him. And he’d thrown it away the night of the bazaar. That was why she’d left the next day, even when he had asked her to stay. He hadn’t known—until he saw her leave for good—what a treasure he’d lost.

  “What is it, Lieberman?” Ewan regarded his manager as he approached. The man simply grinned and opened the door.

  Outside, a sea of faces looked back at him. Jaw slack, Ewan scanned each one. Workers from the mine, all of them. Both the morning and night crews. But what were they doing here?

  “Mr. Burke,” Marcus began, stepping out and motioning with a nod for Ewan to follow, “we’re all well aware of how much everyone wants this claim. But you’ve held your ground and developed a sizable business. Not everyone could do that, and you should be proud of your accomplishments.”

  Ewan blinked. “Well, I—”

  “So we’ve come to offer our gratitude,” one of the miners said, stepping forward with a crock in his arms. “Everyone pitched in what they could. It’s to fix the damaged drifts.”

  A frown overtook Ewan’s mouth. What was the man talking about? He accepted the crock from the miner, and when he looked inside, paper money poked out to greet him. And lots of it.

  Ewan raised his gaze to the crowd. “Thank you—I really don’t know what to say, except that this is far too generous.”

  “We thought you’d say that,” another miner piped up, his comment followed by a wave of light chuckling in the crowd.

  “But we’ve been inspired by Miss Sattler to do all we can for the mine,” the first miner added. “She did, even when she barely knew us. It’s time for us to follow her example.” He nodded toward the crock. “And if that money ain’t enough, we all agreed to work rebuilding those drifts for free on our days off until the cost is met.”