Lucky Creek Lady

by Shirley Kennedy

  “After we’ve done all the hard work of mining it out of the ground,” Darcy said. “I’m doubling the guards at the Atlas. What about you, Sam?”

  Father’s expression became tight with strain. “Looks like I’ve got a serious problem with it, too.”

  Finding the whole business of mining to be utterly boring, Laurie turned to her sister. “We’re in the way. It’s time to go.”

  She and Ada said their goodbyes, reminding Father and Hugh they’d better be home in time for Laurie’s farewell dinner. As they started down the mountain, Laurie remarked, “I’ll miss my family and a few people I met in church, but I certainly won’t miss that Darcy McKenna.”

  Ada looked surprised. “Seems to me it’s that awful Brock Dominick you shouldn’t miss, not Darcy.”

  “Brock’s out-and-out crude and disgusting,” Laurie replied with amusement. “So, I don’t have to wonder why I don’t like him. But Darcy? I’m not sure. Maybe I don’t like him because he doesn’t like me.”

  “What’s not to like about you? You’re the beauty of the family and smart besides. Back in Philadelphia, you could have had just about any man you chose.”

  Laurie hated discussions about who in the family was beautiful and who was not. She’d been gifted with a wealth of auburn hair; big, velvet-brown eyes; and a fine figure. Not so, poor Ada, whose thin, mousey-colored hair, plump face, and chubby figure had so far not attracted any suitors. Her extreme shyness didn’t help either. But as Laurie had pointed out countless times, Ada possessed such a compassionate heart and caring nature that someday some man was bound to see how beautiful she was but in a different way. Ada always scoffed when she said that and claimed that at her age she was well on her way to becoming an old maid. “And I really don’t care. I’m happy and I feel useful. What would Mathew and Maryanne do without me?”

  Laurie felt a pang of sadness remembering Hugh’s wife, Maude, who had died in childbirth two years ago. Mathew, the baby, had survived. Ada had gladly taken over his care, along with his sister’s, Maryanne, who had just turned three. “Hugh’s lucky, Ada. You do a wonderful job.”

  “Let’s get back to Darcy McKenna,” Ada persisted. “Like I said, there’s something about him that’s enormously attractive. It’s hard to describe exactly. Maybe it’s because he has a kind of careless charm about him that he’s totally unaware of.”

  Laurie burst into scornful laughter. “You think he’s charming?”

  “Absolutely I do, and wealthy besides. They say his Atlas Mine produces more gold than any mine around, except the Coyote, of course. Brock Dominick’s the really rich man in this town.”

  “Even so…” Laurie left her sentence hang. Why should she waste her breath on a man she would never see again? “What do you suppose Hugh meant when he talked about putting some gunpowder to good use? I hope they’re not planning something dangerous.”

  “You worry too much. You should be thinking about all the good things, like tonight we’ll have a lovely celebration, and tomorrow you’re off to Philadelphia and the man you love. How could you be anything but giddy with happiness?”

  Ada had hit upon the perfect phrase. Laurie indeed found herself giddy with happiness. “You’re right. What was I thinking of? I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

  Ada burst into delighted laughter. “And may your marvelous luck continue.”

  “Oh, it will.” Not that she needed any luck. A bright, beautiful future lay before her. That anything might go wrong would be unthinkable.

  * * * *

  With Darcy holding the reins, he and Tom left the Monarch Mine and headed back to his own mine. “I wish I hadn’t done it,” he remarked.

  “Done what?” White-haired, with a weathered face and scraggly beard, Tom Crain had spent most of his fifty years in the out-of-doors, hunting, fishing, and now gold mining. He’d become Darcy’s right-hand man at the Atlas Mine. “You mean selling Sinclair all that gunpowder?”

  Darcy nodded. “He claims he knows what he’s doing. You heard me straight-out tell him I didn’t think so. I did my best to persuade him to get someone who knows about explosives, but you know how he is. Stubborn. Won’t listen to advice. Thinks he can do it all himself.”

  “He’s been successful so far, hasn’t he? The Monarch has produced a lot of gold.”

  “Not anymore it doesn’t. Their output has gone down. I can see why he wants to blow open a new vein but why he’s so all-fired sure he’ll find gold there, I have no idea.”

  “Maybe…”

  “Maybe what, Tom?”

  “There’ve been rumors. I wouldn’t be surprised but what the high-graders are the reason the Monarch’s profits are down.”

  “Maybe. I’ve heard them, too, but it’s not our business.”

  Tom said no more. They rode in silence until he remarked, “That Sinclair girl is sure a pretty little thing. Too bad she’s leaving.”

  Darcy slanted a skeptical gaze at his friend. “You think so? I don’t.”

  Tom squinted in thought and took a long time answering. “I grant you, she’s a little bit stuck-up—”

  “A lot stuck-up. She doesn’t belong here. She’ll be happier in Philadelphia with her parties and fancy clothes.”

  “Maybe so, but we need more women like her in this town.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s got culture, Darcy. Well educated. Knows her manners. Knows how to dress proper, not like those gaudy women you find in the hotels.” Quickly he added, “Mrs. Wagner excepted, of course.”

  “Of course.” Darcy gave his friend an affable nod. Leave it to Tom to sense the special relationship he had with Mrs. Lucille Wagner, owner of the Gold Spike Hotel.

  Tom wasn’t finished. “That Miss Sinclair has a head on her shoulders and isn’t silly like a lot of women. I reckon I could have a decent conversation with her if the occasion arose.”

  “Well, it won’t because she’s leaving tomorrow, and good riddance.”

  “I still think it’s a shame. You have a lot in common, seeing as how you’re both well educated and all. Plain to see you come from the same background.”

  “Same background? Why do you say that?”

  “Well, because you talk right, use the proper grammar and all. You’ve got good manners. That is, when you care to use them. I never asked but just assumed you came from a fine family back east.”

  Darcy smiled wryly. “Guess it’s time I told you. I come from West Virginia, Tom. From Mingo County, the heart of the coal mining country. Every last man in my family worked in the coal mines. I did, too, starting when I was eight years old.”

  Tom stared in surprise. “Eight? That’s mighty young.”

  “Not according to my parents, it wasn’t. I started as a trapper. My sole job was to sit all day waiting to open a wooden door to allow coal cars to pass through. That meant I had to open that door about twelve to fifty times a day. The rest of the time, I sat in the dark two hundred feet below the surface of the earth. Nothing to do. I just sat there.”

  “That don’t sound very pleasant.”

  “It wasn’t. When I turned ten, I got promoted to breaker boy. That was less monotonous but more dangerous. I worked with other boys the same age. Every day except Sunday we sat on long wooden benches picking out the bad stuff mixed with the coal—rock, slate, clay, that sort of thing—as it came down the chutes. At times, the dust from the coal was so dense we couldn’t see. My face was black, and my eyes were red.”

  Tom shook his head with sympathy. “What about your parents? How come they let you work in the mines at so young an age?”

  “That’s just the way it was. I don’t blame my parents. Where I grew up, children were expected to work. Otherwise, they’d be spending their time in what my parents considered sinful idleness. Not just them. That’s what everybody thought. I had nine brothers and sisters. We a
ll worked from the time we were around seven or eight.”

  “What about school?”

  “No school. We never went to school. My parents sent the boys to the mines soon as they were able. They sent the girls out to do domestic work.”

  “God Almighty.” Tom pondered for a while. “Then how come you got yourself educated?”

  “That’s a long story I’ll tell you sometime.”

  Tom made a quick grimace and said no more. Good. Darcy rarely talked about his past, but Tom had become a good friend who deserved to know at least something about where he came from. He also didn’t care to hear another word about the irritating Miss Laurie Sinclair, who’d be gone tomorrow, anyway. Why she annoyed him so much, he didn’t know but wouldn’t waste another moment thinking about her.

  * * * *

  Laurie would never forget her first shocking glimpse of the mountain town of Lucky Creek, California. She’d known better than to expect the same tree-lined streets and stately brick mansions of Philadelphia, but nothing could have prepared her for the primitive conditions of her new home. Most of the town consisted of muddy, trash-strewn streets and a collection of squalid shacks and tents scattered along the American River. At least the main street of town showed a semblance of civilization with decent boardwalks where a lady could walk without muddying her skirt. Day and night, the main street teemed with activity, what with several hotels, restaurants, and saloons that flourished alongside groceries, bakeries, a bank, saddlery, and blacksmith shop. Men in miners’ clothing thronged the streets, some headed for their mining claims with their picks and shovels. Or, if they’d been lucky, they were headed for the Assay Office with their bag of gold dust, or, if they’d been really lucky, gold nuggets.

  To say the Sinclair family lived in one of the finest homes in Lucky Creek wasn’t saying as much as that description might imply. At least the large, two-story house Sam Sinclair built for his family was located in what could be termed the better part of town. Surrounded by similar two-story houses with wide front porches and green lawns, it stood on a tree-lined street that might have reminded Laurie of Philadelphia except the pine and fir trees stayed green the year around, unlike the dogwoods and poplars of Society Hill. I won’t miss it at all, Laurie thought when she and Ada arrived home from the mine and walked into the usual noisy, bustling Sinclair household. The house was spotless, thanks to Mei Ling, their young Chinese maid. Delicious aromas wafted from the kitchen where Valeria, their Bolivian cook, had something in the oven and three different items cooking on the big woodstove. In the parlor, their mother, Elizabeth Sinclair, sat on the settee reading from a storybook to Mathew and Maryanne. Again, Laurie remembered Hugh’s late wife, Maude. What a shame she couldn’t be here to see how healthy and happy both her children were, and how adorable.

  Elizabeth looked up from the storybook and sighed. “I can’t believe this is your last day here. I’m going to miss you, Laurie, but I must say, I’m delighted with your reason for leaving.”

  “I knew you would be.” Struck by the irony of it all, Laurie recalled how she’d welcomed the opportunity to stay behind when the family moved west. Finally, she could escape the smothering presence of her mother. At age twenty, she wanted to make her own choices, especially where men were concerned, but Elizabeth Sinclair knew better. In her zeal to find “just the right suitor” for her daughter, she insisted upon knowing each suitor’s age, education, family background and finances before giving her approval. How ironic that when left to make her own choices, Laurie chose the perfect man to warm her mother’s heart. Brandon Cooper, five years older than she, blond and handsome, came from one of the oldest and finest families in Philadelphia. A great-uncle on his father’s side had signed the Constitution. Brandon himself had graduated cum laude from the University of Pennsylvania and had already distinguished himself in the elite world of entomology.

  “And I’ll miss you.” Laurie meant what she said. She’d miss Ada, too, and Hugh and Father. Actually, words would never convey how much she’d miss her family, surprisingly her mother most of all. White-haired, with a regal posture, Elizabeth Sinclair no longer tried her daughter’s patience. Since she’d moved to Lucky Creek, she found ways to look at the bright side and never lamented her fate, even though she had every right to. In Philadelphia, she’d led a privileged life: wealthy husband, plenty of servants, beautiful home in a fine neighborhood, a high standing in Philadelphia society. Now she lived in this coarse, crude, mining town, the ugliest place on earth as far as Laurie was concerned. If Mother ever uttered one word of complaint, Laurie never heard it. Of all the family, Mother was the only one who’d never rebuked Sam Sinclair for uprooting her from the life she loved. “It’s something Samuel felt he had to do,” she explained many a time, and had rejoiced when her unpredictable husband finally found enough gold that he was able to open his own mine, the Monarch, and she and the family could join him.

  Laurie sat on the settee and placed little Maryanne on her lap. “And I’ll miss the children, too. I feel guilty, leaving you and Ada to care for them.”

  Ada quickly spoke up. “Oh, no, you should never feel that way. You must do what makes you happy. Don’t worry, Mother and I will do fine, and of course there’s always Hugh who helps when he can.”

  Laurie suppressed a disdainful sniff. She wouldn’t contradict kindhearted Ada, but their widowed brother rarely if ever lifted a finger to help with the care of his children. But wasn’t that the way of things? Child-rearing was women’s work. Still, Laurie didn’t like the way Hugh almost completely ignored his children. Not long ago, he’d made matters worse when he moved out and took up residence in a fine suite of rooms at the Egyptian Hotel. Of course, he’d left his children behind for his family to care for. According to Father, Hugh was levelheaded, thoroughly dependable, and doing a good job at the mine, although lately he’d got some wild idea in his head about a lost lake covered in gold dust. According to the stories he’d heard, it was the greatest find of all—a golden lake high in the mountains, hidden and unimaginably rich. Those who’d seen it swore they’d seen sheets of gold dotting the lake’s surface like leaves in autumn. They’d seen Indians fishing with golden fish hooks. Everyone scoffed, especially their sensible father, who had no time for such impractical dreams. Hugh claimed he’d find it someday, though. He just needed time.

  By late afternoon, the tantalizing aroma of Valeria’s picante de pollo filled the air. Hardly anyone dined fashionably late in Lucky Creek, and dinner would be ready at six o’clock. They’d invited their next-door neighbors, the Harrisons, to help them celebrate. Although a family’s so-called social standing meant nothing in a place like Lucky Creek, Mother highly approved of the Harrisons, who once had lived in Boston and hobnobbed with the wealthy Brahmins of Beacon Hill. Like Sam Sinclair, Warren Harrison had caught the gold rush fever and headed west. Unlike Sam, he soon realized there were other ways to make money besides digging for gold. He now sold mining equipment throughout the Sierra Nevadas, a business that had earned him a small fortune. Warren and his wife, Agatha, had three well-behaved children. Ruthie, their little girl, was the same age as Maryanne, and they often played together.

  Father and Hugh would be home any minute. The Harrisons were served refreshments while they sat visiting in the parlor and waited.

  And waited.

  Six o’clock came and went. Where were Father and Hugh? They should have been home by now. By six thirty, Valeria indignantly marched in from the kitchen, announced, “If I no serve dinner now, it’s ruined,” and marched out again.

  They agreed they’d better get started. No one wanted to tangle with their fiery-tempered cook. As they all sat down at the dinner table, the crystal glasses on the table shook, accompanied by a low, rumbling sound. “That sounded like thunder,” Laurie remarked. “Was it supposed to rain?”

  Warren Harrison leaped to his feet. “That wasn’t thunder, that was an explosion.”r />
  Elizabeth Sinclair slammed a hand to her heart. “At one of the mines, do you think?”

  Warren gave the answer no one wanted to hear. “I’m afraid so. From what I could tell, it could have come from the Monarch.”

  Chapter 2

  The dinner instantly forgotten, Warren Harrison gave Laurie, her mother and sister a fast ride in his carriage to the Monarch Mine. Laurie’s stomach knotted with fear when she saw black smoke pouring from the entrance. A crowd had gathered. People were milling about, but no one was getting close or attempting to go in. Was Father still inside? Was Hugh? She started to run toward the entrance, but Tom Crain appeared before her, blocking her way. “You can’t go any farther,” he yelled, his voice harsh. “Get back. That smoke is deadly.”

  She gulped and took a deep breath, trying to control the fear rising within her. “But Father’s in there, and my brother, and I must—”

  He firmly grasped both her arms. “No, you can’t. I don’t know where your father is, but you can’t look for him now. Your brother’s over there.” He nodded toward a small group gathered about a still body lying on the ground. “He’s alive but just barely.”

  She rushed to her brother’s side. Kneeling beside him, she couldn’t hold back a cry of shock and anguish. She could hardly recognize him, his face blackened from soot, or burns, she wasn’t sure which. He lay with his bloodied right arm partly bent beneath him in such an unnatural way it had to be broken.

  Doc Hansen, the town’s only doctor, had already arrived. After a quick examination, he declared Hugh must immediately be taken to his clinic where he would do what he could for his injuries, but the doctor didn’t look hopeful.

  Mother and Ada stood by crying as Hugh was carried away. “Where’s Samuel?” Mother cried, looking at Laurie with pleading eyes. She’d always been a strong woman; Laurie had never seen her cry. But now she looked on the verge of hysteria. “Is he still in the mine? Is anyone else in there?”