Why hadn’t someone forced the property owners to take better care of their renters? She knew most people didn’t give a thought to the plight of the poor, focusing instead on their own sumptuous lives. Only a few residents like Maddy even ventured here.
The Bible, however, said that the poor would always be among us, so Maddy wanted to do whatever she could to help. Still, her offerings seemed so insignificant against such a vast problem, even where Loraine was concerned.
“Miss Madeline?” Frank offered his hand to help her alight from her carriage.
She took hold of his steadying grip and tried to find a place where her shoes wouldn’t become bogged down in the muck and mire. After she perched on two small, convenient rocks, Frank startled her by sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her to the larger flat stone that served as a tiny stoop. He was careful when he set her down, keeping his arm around her until she steadied on her feet. He hadn’t carried her since she was thirteen, but his strong arms felt comforting in a way she needed right now. While she knocked on the sagging, splintered door, he returned to the buggy to retrieve the basket of provisions.
She waited a long moment. When no one came, she knocked a little louder.
After another long wait, the door opened only a crack, and Loraine peeked out before she pulled the door wider. “Miss—”
“Just Maddy.” She gave a trembling smile. “Remember what I told you.”
Loraine clutched her gaping, tattered robe over the bulge of her stomach and moved back to allow Maddy’s entrance. Maddy tried not to stare. In the weeks since she’d been here, the first-time mother had expanded at an alarming rate. Perhaps her baby was due sooner than she believed. She wouldn’t last another month. She looked about to explode right now.
Frank followed through the gaping doorway and set the basket on the rickety table leaning against the wall near the open fireplace. Maddy shut the door, but it didn’t latch. Must be some trick to making it stay.
Her servant lifted the lid of the basket and started removing cans of fruits and vegetables that had been bought at Shale’s Mercantile. When he brought out a loaf of bread wrapped in a tea towel, she watched the enticing aroma capture Loraine’s attention. Her eyes strained toward the food, hunger painting a terribly needy expression across her face. Then Frank left to retrieve the basket of coal they had brought.
“Come over and let’s eat.” Maddy didn’t have to urge Loraine again.
The pregnant woman waddled to the table and dropped into the chair closest to the fire. “That smells so good.”
Loraine’s raspy voice didn’t sound right to Maddy. Worry climbed with spidery feet up her spine.
Frank hastened across the room. “I’ll keep watch over the horses and buggy.”
He scooped a tattered curtain back and peeked between the boards nailed across the broken window. With his back to them, Maddy knew Loraine would feel less conspicuous and have a sense of privacy. She was grateful to Frank for being so astute.
Maddy lifted the lid from the crockery jar filled with warm, homemade soup and filled a bowl for the young woman. To make her feel less embarrassed, Maddy also ladled a small amount into a bowl for herself. They were sitting far enough from each other that Loraine couldn’t see how little she had taken. She ate tiny bites while Loraine gobbled the soup and bread. All the while, the woman’s plight tore at Maddy’s heart.
After a few moments, Loraine slowed her eating, and her manners reflected Maddy’s. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come. I didn’t have a bit of food in the house.”
Maddy reached across the table and clasped one of Loraine’s dry, cracked hands. “Tell me how long it’s been since you’ve eaten.”
Loraine’s head drooped as if in shame. “Not since I ran out of what your driver brought me last time. That was day before yesterday.”
Maddy couldn’t imagine being in such straits. This woman’s parents should be horsewhipped. Disowning their daughter because she married someone they didn’t approve of was unconscionable. They didn’t even know her husband had died or that they were going to have a grandchild.
Her brows knit with concern. “Have you seen a doctor?”
Loraine shook her head, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.
“What about a midwife?”
“I don’t have money for either of them.”
Maddy barely heard the whispered words. She stared across the bleak, cold room at the small fire. “How much money do you have?”
Sobs erupted from Loraine. Maddy waited for them to subside, praying for the poor young woman sitting before her. She couldn’t have been much more than Maddy’s twenty-one years, but she appeared decades older.
“Not even a penny.” A hiccough punctuated the sentence, and she swiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands. “When the landlord comes, he’ll probably turn me out. I haven’t paid him anything this month.”
Each word battered Maddy’s heart, chipping away some of the sadness hardening there. Her life was so much better than Loraine’s. Her losses paled in comparison. “How much do you owe him?”
Loraine stiffened her spine. “I couldn’t let you pay him, Madeline. Somehow God will take care of me. He has so far.”
“Miss Madeline.” Frank had turned away from the window. “We can’t stay long. The horses will get too cold.”
She opened her reticule and extracted what little money she carried with her. She pressed the coins and one crumpled bill into Loraine’s hand. “Don’t think about refusing me. Perhaps God sent me to you. I did feel a strong impression that I had to come.”
Loraine smiled through her tears. “Thank you again.”
Maddy pulled Loraine into a warm hug. “Either I or Frank will come to check on you and bring you food every day.”
When Loraine looked as if she would protest, Maddy stepped back and gently took her cold hand, rubbing it to bring warmth. “Loraine, just look at it as God doing His work through us.”
Tears made tracks down Loraine’s smudged cheeks as she slowly nodded. “All right. Thank you.”
Once back in the buggy, Maddy felt the cold clear to her bones. The heated brick had long since lost all its warmth. Even in the comfort of the covered double surrey, with a blanket wrapped around her skirt, she shivered—and from more than just the temperature. She had to think of another way to help Loraine. During the trip through Boston toward her home, she tried to come up with a solution. Since she had never quite warmed up in the hovel where Loraine lived, the cold numbed her body and clouded her mind.
“Whoa!” Frank Sneed called to the horses. After they came to a full stop, he stepped down from the front seat and lifted the heavy woolen side curtain. “Let me help you, Miss Madeline.”
He extended his callused hand, and she grasped it, feeling the warmth through her black kid leather gloves. If only more of it would reach her heart.
She let Frank help her to the house. Thankful for the heat that whooshed from the open door, she was even more grateful for Frank as he hurried to care for the horses, knowing he must be as chilled as she was. The dependable man always put duty first.
Sarah greeted her with a welcome cup of hot chocolate and a plate of her favorite oatmeal cookies. Spices scented the air, reminding Maddy how little she’d been eating lately, and suddenly she felt hungry.
“Join me.” She pointed toward another chair at the kitchen table. “I want to talk to you.”
Sarah poured a cup of tea from the teapot she always kept steeping and sat with Maddy. “How was Loraine today?”
“I’m very worried about her.” Maddy took a sip, welcoming the warmth the sweet liquid brought. “I think she’ll have the baby soon, but she hasn’t been to a doctor. She can’t even pay her rent.”
Sarah tsked before biting into her own warm cookie.
“I’ll have Frank take our doctor to check her. I can’t just sit here and not do anything for her.” Maddy glanced around the warm, welcom
ing kitchen so different from the one-room, bare, cold shanty she had just left. Life could be so unfair.
She’d change that for Loraine, if she could find a way.
Chapter Three
Golden, New Mexico
Jeremiah stepped from the cooler interior of the post office into the heat of midday. The spring-like weather he’d loved while growing up in the Missouri Ozarks didn’t last long in New Mexico—a few days at the most. But he’d gotten used to the rapid change.
It had been only a week since he’d mailed the letter for Philip, and his friend had already asked him to check to see if an answer had come. This mail-order bride idea had become like a burr under his saddle, and Philip wouldn’t let it go.
Jeremiah returned empty-handed to the adobe house built higher up Main Street than any other building in Golden, nestled in the Ortiz Mountains. When Jeremiah opened the door, Philip was giving pacing a valiant try, but shortness of breath had slowed him almost to a shuffle.
Eagerly, the older man turned a questioning gaze on Jeremiah. “So, did I git a letter?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, I’ll be danged. I was sure I’d a-heard by now.” He slumped into his favorite chair and began rocking.
“I didn’t expect an answer yet,” Jeremiah said kindly. “Mail’s slow, and who knows how long it’ll take the paper to publish the ad?”
“Oh, I know all that.” Philip reached toward his chin but stopped halfway, letting his hand drop into his lap. “I jist feel this urgency.” His bony index finger tapped twice against his chest.
“Urgency? You planning on kicking the bucket anytime soon?” Jeremiah chuckled at his own joke, but his friend didn’t join him.
“Ain’t no laughin’ matter, Jerry.” Hurt threaded through the words. “I havta prepare a place fer her.” Intensity blazed from Philip’s eyes. “Cain’t take too long with it neither.”
Jeremiah rubbed at the tension tying knots in the muscles on the back of his neck. He didn’t want to call Philip a pain in the neck, but this crazy notion about a bride brought on all kinds of aches in him. Getting a woman to come for his friend was bad enough, but he’d never considered the idea of sending off for a wife for himself. The likelihood of him never having a wife stung a place deep in his heart. Baking soda wouldn’t ease this kind of heartburn.
Sure the saloons employed women, but who wanted to hitch himself to one of them? The only decent ladies in town were already married when they arrived. Respectable women, especially single ones, didn’t want to come to a rough mining town, even if Golden did have several businesses besides the saloons.
Success was a cold bed partner. He’d felt that chill far too long. He wanted someone to share his life with besides an old miner who seemed determined that he wasn’t long for this world. Much as he loved the old man, he knew he would love the right woman even more.
Memories from his childhood intruded. His mother rocking him to sleep was the earliest memory he could dredge up. Another of her soothing hand on his brow when he was sick. Her warm kiss on his cheek that he’d been embarrassed for his school friends to see. Then she was gone. If she had lived longer and taught him about love, he might not have given in to the lust of the gold fields. But if he’d stayed in the Ozarks, he’d probably have been a dirt farmer just like his old man. Trying to eke out a living from the thin, rocky soil and barely getting by.
He jerked his thoughts back to his friend’s last statement. “What do you mean, ‘prepare a place for her’?”
The retired miner pulled his Bible off the table beside his rocker. “Been readin’ the Good Book. Says God’s goin’ to prepare a place fer us.”
Jeremiah leaned against the closed door and crossed his ankles. “So?” How could there be a heaven, when he wasn’t even sure there was a God? If there were, where was God when his mother was jerked from his life, leaving him a frightened, lonely little boy? He shook his mind from that thought before it pulled him back into a dark place deep inside that no one else knew about.
“Cain’t ask no woman to come here and not prepare a place fer her.” Philip closed the book and looked up, a challenge in his piercing eyes.
Might as well agree with the older man. If he didn’t, Jeremiah would never have any peace. “You have a nice house.” He glanced around the bright, sunny room filled with factory-made furniture. Not many people in Golden had furnishings this nice. They’d worked long and hard on repairing this place when Philip sold his mine. Looked like a mansion to Jeremiah already. “Much too large for just one man.”
“Yeah, but not if’n she has kids.” Thin fingers drummed on the carved wooden armrest as Philip ceased rocking. He raked the room with a critical eye. “Won’t be enough then.”
Jeremiah straightened. “Couldn’t you turn the storeroom in the back into a place for her?”
Any woman who’d answer a newspaper ad surely wouldn’t be too picky. She should welcome any shelter if she was in such dire straits. Then again, it’d be a lot of unnecessary work if no one answered the ad.
“I ain’t stickin’ her out there.” Steel laced Philip’s words and cooled the atmosphere in the room as his thumb jabbed the air toward the back of the house. “Wouldn’t be fittin’.”
“So what did you have in mind?” Jeremiah knew he wouldn’t like what was coming, but there was no way around it. And keeping Philip happy mattered to him. Probably more than anything else in his life.
“Want to add two large rooms ’cross the side a the house.” Excitement filled the old miner’s visage, twinkling his eyes. “And we’ll need new furniture fer both. As good or better’n what I got fer me.”
Philip talked as if Jeremiah didn’t have a ranch to run. He figured he’d get stuck with finding the laborers to build the addition, obtaining the building supplies, and seeing to the furniture. Probably have to oversee the whole job too.
“I’ve already drawed the plans.” The older man shuffled to the sideboard and grabbed a large rolled-up paper. He hobbled over to the dinner table and spread the sketch out. “See this.” His finger followed the lines. “This room. And here’s my bedroom. This’n’s the kitchen.” He glanced up from under bushy white brows, as if making sure Jeremiah paid attention. “She oughta be comfy in these two rooms.” His forefinger tapped each area.
She sure should. They would almost double the size of the house. Philip must have bats in his belfry. All this work could be a complete waste. Jeremiah didn’t realize he’d mumbled those last words until one of Philip’s eyebrows rose toward the ceiling.
Jeremiah held up his hands in surrender. “I understand. You won’t consider it a waste, even if no one answers your ad.”
“Right on the nose!” Philip’s index finger tapped the side of his nose on each word.
“So.” Jeremiah heaved a sigh. “What do you want me to do?”
While Philip explained, Jeremiah’s thoughts jumped around. He tried to listen to his friend while figuring how much time he could spend in town helping him and how much he really had to be on his own ranch. Those cattle wouldn’t take care of themselves. With all the gold fever, he had a hard time keeping good help. Sometimes when he returned to the ranch after going to town, all the hands had abandoned their jobs. But the miners certainly liked eating the beef he produced. Selling meat to them and other people in town kept his bank balance healthy.
“I’ll order the lumber and plaster tomorrow.” He forced a smile instead of the grimace he felt like making. “I can come into town by eleven.”
“Won’t have to.” Philip started rolling up the paper. “Done already ordered it all. Should come in on the train any day.”
That was a surprise. “How’d you know how much to order?”
“Wasn’t always a miner.” The older man shuffled toward the rocker and settled into it. “Useta be a carpenter.”
“I never knew that.”
The twinkle returned to Philip’s eyes. “Lotta things ya don’t know ’bout me, son.” He chuck
led. “Whole lotta things.”
What could Jeremiah do but join in the laughter? Philip was right. No matter how many times they talked together, new things were always popping up.
“So.” He studied Philip to see his reaction. “You ever been married? We never talked about that.”
The shaggy head nodded. “Sure was. Some of the happiest years of my life.”
“And you never told me about it?” How could they have missed something that important?
“Never came up.”
“Until now.”
Why hadn’t he asked Philip more about his life before the mining?
Because Jeremiah was too interested in his own misery. He hadn’t looked beyond himself. If they’d discussed this part of Philip’s life sooner, maybe the mail-order bride thing wouldn’t have come as such a surprise to him.
“Want to tell me about her?”
Philip’s eyes glazed over while he stared out the window. “Not much to tell. I loved her until the day she died. Still carry her and our son in my heart.” Once again his finger tapped his chest. “Wish I’d a-had a pitcher made a-them.”
Stunned, Jeremiah looked at Philip with new understanding. “Is that why you want to help a woman? Why you’d welcome children?”
“Partly.” Philip rested his chin on his chest. Jeremiah thought he’d dropped off to sleep until one finger wiped a tear from each rheumy eye. “Lots a times, I’ve wondered what my son woulda been like if he’d a-lived. And I miss my Maggie every day. But I’m not lookin’ to replace them. This is jist what God done told me to do.”
Always came back to God. Everything with Philip returned there eventually. Even if he didn’t force his ideas on Jeremiah, they were part of who Philip was. No doubt about it.
Love Finds You in Golden, New Mexico Page 2
