Lucky Creek Lady

by Shirley Kennedy

Father had told Laurie that at one time the Monarch had employed over two hundred miners. Now the number was reduced to only a few. Had anyone else been in there besides Father and Hugh? How much worse could this be? “I’ll see what I can find out.” Laurie tried to keep her voice steady, not easy when her insides ached with fear. She raced toward the entrance again where a group of men stood at a distance, watching the black smoke still billowing out. They were doing nothing, just shaking their heads in a helpless sort of way. She recognized Brock Dominick of the Coyote Mine along with Tom Crain and Darcy McKenna. She ran up to them and inquired, “My father—is he still in there? Is anyone else? Can you get them out?” She’d tried to keep the panic from her voice but without complete success. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the fate of her beloved father.

  Darcy drew her aside. “They say your brother was barely conscious when they found him. He could hardly talk, but they understood him to say he barely got out before the roof of the mine shaft collapsed and your father had been behind him.”

  “So, you don’t think he got out?”

  “It doesn’t look that way.”

  She couldn’t utter another sound and suddenly shivered from the cold. The night had turned chilly, as it always did in the mountains. In their frantic haste to get to the mine, no one had thought to put on a wrap.

  Darcy removed his buckskin jacket and threw it around her shoulders. “Here, take this.”

  “I couldn’t.” She started to remove it.

  “You could.” He pressed the jacket into place on her shoulders and stepped away. “Will you be all right?”

  He’d been so kind she’d forgotten she disliked him. “I’ll be fine. I must get back to my family.” She turned away, dreading to give her mother and sister the terrible news.

  * * * *

  The crowd had dispersed by the time Darcy and Tom left the scene of the Monarch Mine disaster and headed for home. Nothing more could be done. They’d have to wait at least a few more hours before the smoke cleared enough that they could get inside. Tom shook his head. “Poor bastard. You warned him it wasn’t safe.”

  Nodding in agreement, Darcy flicked the reins. “Sam Sinclair was a good man. Foolish, maybe, but if ever a man could be trusted it was Sam.”

  “You think he’s dead?”

  “It would be a miracle if he’s still alive.”

  “He died for nothing. The miracle would be if that blast opened up another vein of gold as good as the first one.”

  Darcy didn’t speak for a while, focusing his attention on the treacherous mountain road. “He wouldn’t have taken a chance like that if he wasn’t about to go broke. The Monarch was close to closing down. That old vein of gold was nearly exhausted.”

  “What do you suppose the family’s going to do? Hugh will be laid up for a while, if he lives. Then there’s Sam’s wife, the two grown daughters, and those little ones of Hugh’s. They’re not but more than two and three, aren’t they?” Tom’s brow furrowed with concern. “A real shame.”

  “We’ll go back tomorrow. The smoke should have cleared by then.”

  “Maybe they’ll be a miracle, and we’ll find him alive.”

  Darcy threw his friend a cynical smile. “Pigs will fly before that happens. Sam’s dead, Tom. No way on earth he could have survived that explosion. We’ll be lucky if we find what’s left of him.”

  * * * *

  The town possessed what was optimistically called the Lucky Creek General Hospital, although it was nothing more than an oversize clinic, financed and run by the generous and compassionate Doc Hansen himself. Sickness and injuries were so common in the mining camps that from the day the unimposing, one-story wooden structure opened for business, it ran at full or near-full capacity. With rudimentary equipment, assisted by one experienced nurse and two Indian women to help her, the good doctor treated an endless stream of miners whose injuries ranged from sprained fingers to broken bones, frostbite, snake bites, grizzly bear attacks, and more. Rampant diseases took their toll, everything from colds to measles, mumps, diphtheria, cholera, and pneumonia. Bad nutrition, a common problem in the camps, led to scurvy.

  While his family hovered close by, Doc Hansen examined Hugh, muttering gloomily to himself and shaking his head. “He’s badly hurt. I’ll set the arm, but I don’t know about that head injury. And then there’s those broken ribs. Not much we can do about those, other than just let them heal.”

  They waited while Doc set Hugh’s badly broken arm. Once finished, he remarked, “Did the best job I could, but it’s broken in several places, and I don’t know how well it will heal. A good thing he was unconscious when I set it, so he didn’t feel the pain. You all go home now. Get some rest. We’ll see what happens in the morning.”

  Exhausted, they returned home. Elizabeth had made a valiant attempt to hold herself together, but she’d lost the only man she ever loved, and maybe her only son, and she had lapsed into kind of a dazed silence. Ada, so delicate and vulnerable, had pretty much fallen apart and couldn’t stop crying. Grief for her father tore at Laurie’s heart, but she did her best to remain strong for them all. She checked on the children. Mei Ling had stayed to watch them. Laurie thanked her and sent her home. She made sure her mother and sister got to bed and went to bed herself. She tried to sleep, but her mind kept jumping from one anguished thought to the next. Father dead. Hugh badly injured and maybe would die. And sometime during the night the thought struck her. I won’t be going home tomorrow. But all that seemed unimportant now. She didn’t dwell on it long, and soon her never-ending, anguished thoughts returned.

  She wasn’t sure how much she slept that night, if she’d slept at all. Early next morning, she got up, dressed, and went downstairs intending to put on a pot of coffee. Ordinarily, Valeria didn’t arrive this early, but Laurie found her in the kitchen, the coffee already brewing. “Good morning, Valeria. How good of you to come early.”

  Her cook’s command of the English language was sketchy at best, but Laurie understood the sympathy that filled Valeria’s eyes as she gave Laurie a hug, saying, “Lo siento por tu pérdida…I’m sorry.”

  Talking slowly, Laurie replied, “I hope your husband—tu esposo—doesn’t mind that you came early.” She hadn’t spoken idly. Their Bolivian cook was married to a white man, Emery Finch, a card dealer who worked at the Palace Hotel. Laurie had never met him but had heard of his reputation. Noted for his foul language and trigger temper, he was also noted for his fiery speeches demanding all foreigners be banned from the gold fields. He was said to rule his wife with an iron hand. Possessing a volatile jealousy, he never let her out of his sight except to come to work. More than once, Valeria had shown up with a bruise on her arm or face. She laughed off any suggestion her husband had beat her, but the Sinclairs suspected otherwise. The strange thing was, Valeria wasn’t the kind of woman who couldn’t stand up for herself. Somewhere in her forties, with a tough, weathered face, she came from a town called Sucre that nestled high in the Andes Mountains, over nine thousand feet above sea level. She never complained but once told Laurie life hadn’t been easy for the cholitas, the women of Indian heritage, who lived in Sucre and worked mostly as lowly servants. Laurie loved the manner in which she dressed in colorful layered skirts and shawls, a bowler hat perched atop her long, black braids. Sometimes she removed her hat when she came to work. Other times, the hat sat securely on her head while she cooked dinner, a source of amusement for the Sinclairs, although they never let on how funny they thought she looked. But above all else, they highly appreciated not only her skilled cooking, but her loyalty and devotion, especially to the children.

  “Mi esposo no mind,” Valeria assured her. Laurie wasn’t sure she believed her but was grateful she was there just the same.

  Agatha Harrison from next door arrived shortly after, expressing her sorrow and offering to help any way she could. “You’ve had a hard night. No
w you just sit down and I’ll fetch us some coffee.”

  Her neighbor’s kind words touched Laurie’s vulnerable emotions so much she almost cried. She sat at the kitchen table and watched while Agatha poured them cups of coffee from the big pot Valeria had just brewed on the stove. “Do you think there’s a chance Father could still be alive?”

  “There’s always that hope, of course,” Agatha said carefully. “Warren knows about such things, being as he’s lived around here for years. I hate to tell you this, but he says the best you can hope for is they find what’s left of him, so you can give him a decent burial. Mr. McKenna said he and Mr. Crain will look for him today if the smoke’s not too bad. Warren says Mr. McKenna knows all there is to know about mines. If there’s anyone who’d be better at finding your father, I don’t know who it would be.”

  “That’s reassuring,” Laurie replied without conviction. Darcy McKenna had been kind to her last night, but her low opinion of him hadn’t changed. No need to say so, though.

  Agatha slapped a hand to her chest. “Oh, dear, I just remembered. You were supposed to leave today.”

  “I know, but I can’t go now, can I? Guess I’ll have to”—Laurie’s voice broke miserably as a flash of disappointment ripped through her—“cancel my ticket.” She hadn’t realized until this moment how deeply, desperately she’d wanted to leave Lucky Creek. If she’d been asked yesterday, she’d have said her entire future life depended on her getting back to Philadelphia, into the loving arms of Brandon Cooper, and nothing could possibly stand in the way.

  “Such a shame, Laurie. I know how much you wanted to get back to the fellow who collects all those insects.”

  At another time, Laurie would have laughed, but today nothing was funny. “I’m afraid he’ll have to wait.”

  “If he loves you, and I’m sure he does, he won’t mind in the least. Right now, your mother needs you, and Ada, and of course poor Hugh, if he even lives.”

  “Of course, I’m disappointed, but it’ll be a short delay, just long enough for the family to get on their feet again. A week or two at the most, I should imagine.”

  “Of course.” Agatha sounded doubtful. “Doesn’t the stagecoach company act as agents for the steamship line?” Laurie nodded. “Then you’ll need to cancel your tickets and get your money back. I’ll have Warren do it if you like.”

  How good to have a neighbor who cared. “Thanks, but I’ll take care of it myself. We’ll be going back to the hospital to see Hugh, and I’ll return the tickets then.”

  Strange, how all her hopes and dreams had centered on those tickets, but now, in the space of only hours, she’d hardly given them a thought. Right now, she must focus on her family’s tragedy, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t get back to Philadelphia. It would just take a little longer than she’d thought.

  * * * *

  Eyes red from crying, Ada soon came down for breakfast, but Mother did not. When Laurie went upstairs, she found her mother lying pale and exhausted in her bed. Determined to return to the hospital, she’d tried to get up but felt dizzy and weak and had to lie down again. “I must go see Hugh,” she whispered, so softly Laurie could hardly hear.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Laurie told her. “You’ve had a shock and you need to rest. Ada can stay with you, and I’ll go. If he’s awake, and I’d wager he will be, I’ll explain you were feeling a bit ill and will visit later. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

  She waited, prepared for further argument, but her mother breathed a weary sigh. “All right then. I’ll just lie here and rest for a while.”

  That didn’t sound like Mother at all. Laurie hid her concern. “Good. I want you to stay in bed and not lift a finger. Then I’ll find a ride to the mine and see if”—hard choking the words out—“they’ve found Father. I’ll be back soon as I can.”

  Ada agreed to stay with Mother. At least she’d stopped weeping and seemed resigned to the sad fact Father was gone. “Albert brought the rig back,” she said, referring to the down-on-his-luck miner Father had hired as their stableman. Sometime last night he’d brought Sam’s horse and carriage back from the mine. Fine with Laurie. She’d have had to walk otherwise. She caught Albert before he had a chance to unhitch the horses and had him drive her to the hospital.

  At least Hugh was still alive. According to the nurse, he’d awakened, appeared to have all his senses, and had fallen asleep again. “We still don’t know,” Doc Hansen said when he stopped by. “There’s the broken arm, the head injury, and those ribs were pretty badly crushed. If he lives, he’ll need time to heal and will surely be laid up for a while. A long while, I’m afraid.”

  At least her brother was still alive, and for that she was grateful. She’d think of the bad news about his ribs later on when she didn’t have so much else on her mind. “Have you heard anything about my father?”

  The kindly doctor shook his head. “All I’ve heard is there are men up there looking, but I don’t know if they’ve entered the mine yet. That smoke can be deadly. No sense taking a chance, especially when your father is likely…” He caught himself and cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

  The doctor’s words hit her hard. She wished she could be like Ada—start to weep, let it all out—but instead she took in a deep, steadying breath. “Thank you, Doctor, I know he’s likely dead, but there’s always the hope.”

  “You should go up there yourself. I know for a fact several of the owners are there. They’ve brought some of their workers along, and if there’s a way to get in there, they’ll find it.”

  Laurie thanked him. “Come back later in the day,” Doc Hansen said. “He should be waking up soon.”

  For her next stop, she had Albert drive her to the office of the California Stage Company where she cancelled her reservations and was able to return her tickets and receive the refund. At the sight of the money in her hand, she came close to choking up. Always generous, Father had given her the money for her trip home, despite his disappointment that she wasn’t going to stay. He was like that. Always generous. Always willing to give her anything she wanted. She’d been his special pet, more so than Hugh or Ada, although he would never admit it, nor had Laurie ever boasted that she was.

  That errand done, she had Albert drive her up the narrow mountain road to the Monarch Mine and arrived to find only a small plume of light-colored smoke arising from the mine entrance. A group of men stood not far away, talking earnestly. One, seeing her arrival, broke from the group and walked toward her. Why did it have to be Darcy McKenna? She sighed to herself and climbed from the carriage.

  Darcy touched two fingers to the broad brim of his hat. “Good morning, Miss Sinclair. You’re wondering if we’ve been in the mine. We haven’t yet, but as you can see, the smoke is just about gone, and we’re about to send in a search party.”

  He was certainly being kind, she’d give him that. “Will it take long, do you think?”

  “There’s no telling. Depends upon how deep we have to go. I wish I could have talked to Hugh and found out more. How’s he doing?”

  “The doctor doesn’t know yet.”

  “Weren’t you planning on leaving today?”

  “Yes, I was.” His question surprised her. Why should he care when and if she left? He was simply making polite conversation, she supposed. Considering he was about to search for her father, she owed him a decent answer. “I already got a refund for my stagecoach and ship tickets, so I’ll have to stay at least another week, maybe two at the most.”

  “You never did like Lucky Creek, did you?”

  What business was it of his whether she liked this town or not? “I hate it here and won’t stay a minute more than I have to.” She should stop right there, but something about this man galled her no end, and she couldn’t let it go. “Not that I worry. My fiancé will completely understand why I’ve been delayed. Among his many fine q
ualities, he possesses all the patience in the world.”

  “That so?” Darcy’s solemn expression remained the same except for a faint twinkle of amusement in the depths of his eyes. “Are you talking about the man who collects bugs?”

  He was needling her, she knew he was, yet she couldn’t help rising to the challenge. “Brandon Cooper is already one of the most noted entomologists in America. He’s traveled the world—South Africa, the East Indian Archipelago—in search of rare specimens of orthopteroid insects.”

  His forehead creased. He removed his hat and scratched his forehead. “Or-thop-ter-oid? I’m impressed.”

  “For your information, that’s grasshoppers and crickets. And furthermore, his collection of microlepidoptera is remarkable. That’s moths.”

  “Well, now.” He got serious again, as if he’d suddenly realized he shouldn’t be laughing at someone who had just lost her father. He replaced his hat. “We’ll be going into the mine soon. Go home. You need to be with your family. If and when we find anything you’ll be the first to know.”

  She watched as he turned away and headed toward a group of men who stood at the mine entrance. What had she been thinking? She’d just made a fool of herself. She didn’t know how much education he had, but obviously Darcy McKenna wasn’t the least impressed with her fiancé’s great achievements in the field of entomology. How very childish she must have sounded with her bragging, doing her best to impress him. And why? She didn’t even like the man.

  He’d given her good advice, though. With a sigh, she returned to the carriage.

  * * * *

  Idiot woman. As Darcy strode toward the mine entrance, he shook his head in disgust. Not at her but at himself. Yet again, he’d let the snobbish Miss Laurie Sinclair get under his skin. Usually if he didn’t like someone, he’d simply avoid them. If by chance he had to deal with them, he did so quickly, making sure he remained detached, cool, unruffled. But that didn’t happen when he talked to Laurie Sinclair. When she mentioned her fancy fiancé with the fine education, his blood shot through his veins like one of those geysers in Wyoming. Entomology? Who cared? A bug was a bug, as far as he was concerned. He’d never been to school. No shame in that. Lots of people had never been to school, yet that was a fact about himself no one needed to know. And besides, in a very real way he’d received the best education in the world, just not in a schoolhouse.