She hadn’t meant to say the last few words, and she choked on them as they came pouring out of her mouth. She put her hands to her face, to hide her embarrassment, and realized that she was crying, too. As if that couldn’t be more discouraging, the stranger was smiling at her now, and she stood absolutely still, prepared to burst into a run if the line started laughing at her. She had been mocked enough for one week.
A couple of voices rose, but there was no laughter, and the stranger put up his hand to silence even the few small sounds that had been made. As he lowered his arm, he held out his hand to her. “I am glad I asked, miss. I would’ve hated for a dog to be on the other end of that anger.”
She looked at him suspiciously, but he was not laughing. Instead, he had even stopped smiling, and his dark brown eyes were showing more than a hint of steel, the star-like glint turned metallic and hard. She gave him her hand, noticing how it shook, without even feeling that it was a part of her own body. He took her fingers, holding them tightly, and then pulled her out of the line.
“I’ve got to see the storekeeper about the mail coach,” she said, trying to pull out of his grip. She wriggled her fingers, then twisted her palm from side to side. He did not tighten his hands, but held her firmly until she had tired herself out and stood pale with anger and humiliation.
“Are you done now with tussling, or would you like to pull some more? I trained horses in Texas. I can go at it more than you.”
She shook her head. “Let me go if you please. I have to get back to New York. I’ve no time for struggling”
“You should have stayed there in the first place if you were going to let yourself be scared off by a bit of dust. What is the matter with our town that you have to leave on the first coach out of here? You can’t have been here long, or I’d have seen you before.”
Mary wanted to be angry with the man for interfering, but his low, careful voice meant that she could do nothing but calm down in his presence. His grip on her hand was slowly easing, but he was still holding her firmly as he walked her across the road to one of the saloon bars.
“Do you take a cup of coffee?” he asked, and she shook her head.
“I prefer wine, or a beer for hot days.”
“No doubt, no doubt, but if you sit with me you’ll not be having any alcohol.”
“You’re tee totaler?” She had heard about it, of course, but everyone in her group of friends drank wine, at the very least.
He nodded stiffly and ordered two coffees from the bar. She was surprised at this revelation. Tee-total promises in New York were usually for a day, or perhaps a week, starting only after a heavy night. It was rare to find a man of working age with a strong conviction against alcohol. Mary turned to find a seat, and he stopped her. “Let me do the choosing, miss, since you’re a stranger here. We don’t want to offend anyone.”
“Offend!” She gave a cry of anger, and his left eyebrow rose to the brim of his hat. He patted her arm, and she drew a steadier breath.
“Miss, you are on the verge here of volcanic eruption. I’ve never raised my voice to a stranger in public, but I see you are made from a different metal.” His voice was disapproving, and she made a strong effort to control herself, finally breathing out heavily.
He took both cups of coffee and led her over to the back of the room. He placed the cups in the darkest portion of the bar, and Mary hesitated for a second, then sat down beside him. She was able to study him more closely now, and he seemed content to be viewed. He was younger than she had first imagined, the fine lines around his face were more like marks drawn by weather and work, rather than age. If he had been in a suit, in a New York ballroom, her friends would have considered him handsome. Even here, he was certainly a better sight than most of the townsmen. He seemed to wait for her to finish looking at him, sipping his coffee until she turned her attention to her own drink.
As she took a sip of coffee, he put down his cup and said, “Now, I’ll ask you again. What is the matter with our town that you come here one evening and are set to leave the next morning?”
Mary sighed, and then took out her small bundle of letters. She dropped them in front of the stranger, who picked them up, read a few lines from each, and then put them down.
“You are looking for a husband?” She shrugged her shoulders, and bent her head down to her cup. “Well, I can see that you are. Yet you have a wedding ring on.”
“I can wear one and still need a husband,” she said, which was the truth, but didn’t help him at all. “I was hoping for a new life down here.”
“If that’s the case, I would hardly have thought that our men could have made you run away after just a night.”
She didn’t speak for a moment, and then put her hands over her face, tilting the cup and sending it over the table. He stood up, and started to wipe down the surface with his own handkerchief, then turned to look at her.
“You don’t have to leave town because you can’t find a husband. There are other jobs.” He paused. “I could do with someone to keep my house clean while I’m working. I could pay you enough to help you get home.” He paused again. “I imagine you don’t even have enough to cover your trip back on the mail?”
Mary shook her head, letting the tears run freely behind her hands. He placed one hand under her elbow, and helped her to stand.
“Then we can help each other out. I need a cleaner place, you need money. Are you able to come now?”
“My clothes…”
“That’s stopped the weeping at least. I can send for those tomorrow. Come now and get settled in. There’s a place behind my house that you can use for your private space. I don’t see why you should stay here and beg for passage when you can work your way home like an honest woman.”
She put her hands down from her face, but she was smiling. “An honest woman indeed.”
He put out his hand. “I’m Silas,” he said. “Silas Warner. I supervise the Empire Mine up in Wolf Creek. Pleased to meet you”
She had put out her own hand, and given her new name before she had even thought about it.
Chapter 4
Silas took Mary back to the post office, where his cart was still waiting, the horse apparently asleep. He gave a whistle, and the horse turned toward him, pulling the cart slowly over the wooden road. It came straight up to Silas, and Mary could see now that it was a smallish pony, with dark eyes that seemed to be half-covered with a whitish film.
She put her hand out towards the pony, and it seemed to step away from her. Silas took the reins tightly and pulled his cart back toward the path. “Don’t put your hand out like that,” he said. “He can’t see much and you frightened him.”
“He can’t see me?”
Silas nodded towards the hills where the explosion had come from yesterday. “He came from the pit. I told the fools that the ponies couldn’t be kept down there for too long.” He shrugged. “We lost about fourteen ponies that way. Henry here is the only one that had even a little bit of sight left. Here, you can touch him if you are careful.”
He took hold of her hand and gently moved it around Henry, letting her touch his neck and shoulder. She moved her hand slowly, along the line he had indicated, and Henry shuffled in his harness, pressing closer to her hand. She felt the warmth and trust of the animal, with the fine skin of a pony which is well-loved and cared for.
He let go of her and climbed up into the cart. “You’ll have to be quick to get up here,” he said. She walked around the cart, keeping one hand on it so that he could not drive off. He didn’t offer to help her into the back of the cart, and she had to struggle in by herself. She knew that she was getting very red in the face as she struggled in, and even more so when he let her sit down and then unhooked the side of the cart, allowing a big gap to swing open. She gave an exclamation, but he shook his head at her, and then closed up the gap before urging Henry home. The pony walked on, dragging the cart in a curious motion, seemingly nudged from side to side by the edges of the
cart. Silas occasionally shouted an instruction to the pony, and Henry sometimes responded, and sometimes Silas had to repeat himself two or three times before the cart was pulled in the right direction. Despite the pony, or perhaps because Henry knew the way really, they went steadily up the mountain.
They had gone some way up the winding street, bare of houses, before Silas slowed the pony, and pointed to a gap between the trees. Mary leaned forward, squinting hard to see what he was indicating, until a shaft of light suddenly picked out soft brown wood in place of the darkness of the trees. It was a house, then she could see another and another as she became accustomed to their shape and size. In all, there must have been about 10 or 15 houses laid out in the form of a street. They all looked similar, with straight wood roofs and flat, straight sides.
“Wolf creek,” he said, without any other explanation. The pony turned sharply at a bend, and then the row of small houses rose in front of her, seeming to climb up the side of the mountain. Above them, the sound of the gold mines grew louder, and here the dust was thicker than everywhere.
Silas set her down at the largest house, which was fitted with a slate roof in contrast to its fellows, and then drove the pony around to the back. The door of the house was tightly locked, and Mary had to wait until Silas came back. He nodded to her briefly, and then opened the door, standing aside to let her pass into the house.
It was a narrow home, larger than the others in the same row from the outside, but just as basic. Inside, the dirt floor had been covered with hardwood, but dust lay on everything, even the dining table. The back of the fireplace was darkened by soot, and she immediately noted that it would have to be scrubbed for a long time before it was clean. He walked straight past these signs of dirt, and instead showed her into the kitchen portion, tight against the back of the house and with its own stove and wash basin. He walked towards the stove, and reached into the cupboard next to it, pulling out a jumble of dusters, brushes, pans and wooden spoons.
“I haven’t had a woman in here since my half-sister left town to get married,” Silas said, as if trying to explain. “I know it’s basic, but Rachel had the whole place shining on just as little, and I was given a good meal on the table when I got home.” He paused, and then added, “You’ll be helping me in the garden too, I expect.”
Mary said nothing for a moment, and then nodded her head. She could help him in the garden if he wanted. She looked out of the window and saw a small grass patch, and then several rows of sticks, which she thought would become vegetable rows during the summer.
“Ok then. Well, I’m going back to the mine now. See if you can do a bit before I come home.”
Mary turned her attention to the cupboard, pulling out old dusters and brushes which had hardly any bristles left on them. The pots and spoons she put into a basin nearby, and she also pulled out an old kettle, large enough to take a chop.
The kitchen had another door, which seemed to lead away from the main house, but not into the garden. She knew, just by the smell as she turned the handle, that this was the pantry. Inside, it was in good condition, with pork pieces hanging from hooks and other foods stored carefully away. Some of the cheese was several days old, and starting to harden and split. Some of the other foods were also close to perishing, ‘on the turn’ as Mary’s grandmother would say.
She decided that the kitchen would have to be the first place to be cleaned, and she started to sweep it with the least worn of the brushes. Dust flew up, but settled again as soon as she moved to another tile. She scrubbed them repeatedly, but it didn’t seem to work. Exhausted, she burst into tears and threw the brushes into a corner.
When Silas came back, it was nearly dark, and the food Mary had been cooking was now going cold. He looked around the house, and she felt his disapproval growing.
“I can’t sweep with these brushes,” she said, trying to get in her point before he could object.
“I don’t think that explains everything,” he said, slowly. He took off his boots, propping them beside the door, and then walked slowly over to the table. “Rachel always had my dinner ready when I got in.”
Mary held back on her retort, instead stirring the fire so that the food in the kettle started to boil again. “It’s pork and beans,” she said, “and I’ve got some potatoes too, in the pan.”
He grunted a little, and then came to stand beside her as she took the kettle from the fireplace. She had wrapped a towel around her hand, but the metal was still too hot for her to carry it any way. He took an old shirt from the table, and wrapped it around the handle, but let her carry it to the basin.
“Mind yourself,” he said, but sat back down at the table and waited. She brought the steaming food onto the table and he looked at her for a second, before whispering: “There’s no plates.”
She blushed and ran back to the pantry. Two tin plates were tucked there, apparently sealed into the space by a giant cobweb. She brushed the web aside, and brought them out, laying them at opposite ends of the table.
After the meal was finished and all was washed up, Silas opened the other door to the kitchen, and then lead her along a short pathway. In the half-light, she could see a small shack-like building close to the main house, and he now went to that and opened the door, handing her the key.
“Make yourself at home, this will be your private space.”
That night, as she walked the pathway towards her own small quarters, her body was aching and sore. She would have to get better, she knew, or Silas would take her back to town. Throwing herself down on the bed, she fell asleep fully dressed.
Chapter 5
Loud hammering woke her from sleep sometime later. Moonlight came in softly through the window, showing a small patch of the dirt floor. Everything outside seemed still and peaceful, and Mary closed her eyes again, reminding herself that this was California, and wildlife was everywhere. Just as she was falling back to sleep, the knocking started up again, this time louder than ever. There were voices too, calling the name of their supervisor.
Mary lay awake in the darkness while the knocking continued, until she heard the sash window of the house come up, and then Silas speaking to his men. She walked quietly to the door, pressing her eye to the keyhole, and then her ear to the wooden frame.
“We need you to come out with us, Silas.” One of the men was close to her hut, and she could hear him clearly.
“I’m not coming down,” Silas said. “Go home to your wives.”
“We want to talk to you about the men you have working.”
There was a pause, and then Silas said, “I can’t help you, Jim. You know that I don’t have any choice if you won’t work.”
“You can help us, alright. Or you could if you weren’t in the pocket of the boss. How much did he pay you to bring in these others? We want a share of that money, it’s owed us.”
“I’ve never taken more than I earn,” Silas said, but stiffly. “And if you would quit the idea that you need to get paid more than you’re worth, we could all get back to the job we’re here to do. Then I could have efficient men on the site and not those that don’t know their explosives from their lunch. Come back to work tomorrow, and it can all be sorted.”
“That’s not going to happen, Silas. But you can’t have any drifter going down our tunnels and taking coin from our mouths. We know what you did to Tom Davy.”
“Oh, and what is that?”
“Got him sacked for nothing.”
“For stealing, lads. I saw him throw that old rag out of the window, as did you all, and I didn’t like the way it fell. I thought he was trying to get rid of something, but I didn’t know there was gold there until I unwrapped it. I know you wanted me to overlook it, but I’m not going to stand by while you lot rob your own bosses blind. You should be ashamed. Now get out of my vegetable patch.” She heard the house rock with the slamming of the window. The miners stood hammering at the door, and calling his name for a long while, but no amount of knocking could get Sila
s to talk to them again.
Mary woke again some hours later and went into the house. Silas was already awake, and was stirring some slices of bacon around in a pan. His face looked dark, and bags hung heavily below his eyes. His mouth was firm and more heavily lined than usual. She walked up to the pan, and he turned away from her.
“I don’t have any more bacon, before you ask,” he said.
“Good morning to you, too,” she said.
“I’m assuming that you heard the noise last night.”
“It was right beside me. Yes, I heard them.”
“Those are my men, wanting to pick a quarrel with me over the mine. They’re on strike, and we’ve brought in some men from the town.”
“Miners?”
“Not miners. Unskilled for the most part. I told the boss it was dangerous, that the bang juice they are using is dangerous, and if the lads don’t know what they are doing, they’ll kill us all and the town too. But they don’t care, they want the gold out.” He shrugged and flipped the bacon onto his plate. “We could go up tomorrow if those fools put the explosives in the wrong position.”
“Can’t you get the strikers back to work?”
“They’re not striking about anything that matters to the boss. So there’s no need to talk. As soon as my men realize that, they’ll straighten up and come back to work.” He bit into the bacon, and then spat it back onto the plate. “Too hot. The problem is that they are used to mining tin, which ain’t so competitive, and they’ve got so many cousin Johnnies here now that there’s a lot of men able to do their work.”
He pushed the plate aside. “Tell you, miss. These men are going to cause trouble. There’s one of their lads was hanged not so long ago for killing a man in the town, and the way that they are set, there’ll be more of them up for the noose before next spring. I try to keep them straight, but they are wild beasts to a man. ” He pulled on his boots, and walked towards the door. Mary picked up the plate, and returned the half-cooked bacon to the pan, making it her breakfast before she started on her work.
Mock Wedding (Grass Valley Mail Order Brides Book 1) Page 2
