Refining Fire

by Cox, Carol

  The show of sympathy proved to be Jenny’s undoing. “Look at me,” she whispered through her tears, not wanting her words to carry to the patrons in the dining room. “What do you see? Is there something about me that screams, ‘This woman once worked in a saloon, avoid her, lest you be tainted, too’?”

  “Of course not. It isn’t—”

  “Then why does it keep on happening? You know working in the Nugget wasn’t something I chose to do. I never would have entered the doors of that place if I hadn’t been taken there by force. Doesn’t that count for something?” She slapped her hand against the counter. “I’ve done everything I can think of to show people I’m a decent person. All I want to do is leave the past behind me. Why won’t they let me do that?”

  “I don’t know,” Elizabeth said, wiping away her own tears. “I truly don’t. But no matter how horrible other people may be, always remember I’m your friend.” She pulled Jenny close. “And I’ll be praying for you.”

  Don’t bother. Jenny nodded her thanks and moved back to the counter to chop vegetables to put in the stew that would be on the evening’s menu. Not for the world would she intentionally hurt Elizabeth’s feelings, but her friend might as well save her breath. Jenny knew all too well the futility of calling out to a God who didn’t care about her.

  If anything were going to turn her life around, she would have to be the one to make it happen.

  two

  Andrew Garrett strolled across the plaza, enjoying the scent of pines and the odor of fresh-cut lumber emanating from the sawmill. He scanned the signs on the various businesses facing the open square until he found the one he sought: the Capital Restaurant & Bakery. A simple enough edifice, but surface looks, as he had discovered long ago in his line of work, didn’t necessarily reflect what lay within. Earl Waggoner had told him the place served the best food in town.

  The corner of his mouth quirked up into a half smile. Apparently, the owner hadn’t seen fit to change the name, even though Prescott had lost its status of territorial capital to Tucson two years previously. Maybe they saw it as a statement of the quality of the food. He grinned at the thought.

  Inside the modest dining room, he looked around for Waggoner but didn’t spot him. No matter. When he and Lute Bledsoe discussed the purchase of Bledsoe’s mining claim the day before, Waggoner had stepped up and introduced himself as the miner’s agent. Waggoner’s slick attitude had struck Andrew wrong at the time, but knowing Bledsoe couldn’t read the contract he was offering, he could understand the miner’s need for someone to look after his interests. He had to admit, though, that a few moments to enjoy his meal before he had to share table space with Waggoner would help him keep his appetite.

  A petite, dark-haired woman stopped to take his order of roast beef and new potatoes, then left Andrew free to study the faces of the other patrons, a pastime he thoroughly enjoyed. The table he’d chosen near the kitchen gave him a good view of the whole room.

  If he didn’t miss his guess, the young family near the front window had come into town from their farm for supplies. Their simple, threadbare clothing spoke of people who had to pinch their pennies. Enjoying a meal she hadn’t cooked herself was probably a rare luxury for the thin-faced wife. Her husband beamed throughout the meal, obviously proud of being able to provide her with this treat.

  What about the lone diner in the far corner? Andrew summed up the man’s slicked-back, dark hair and flashy clothing in one word: gambler. He’d seen plenty of those around Denver. This fellow would fit right in with them.

  He smiled his thanks when the waitress set his order before him. Mmm. If the fragrant aroma gave any indication of the taste, Waggoner hadn’t exaggerated his claims about the quality of the restaurant’s food a bit. Andrew lifted a bite of the roast to his lips and closed his eyes, the better to savor the home-cooked flavor.

  Just the way roast beef ought to taste. Not at all the bland fare he might have expected from a small-town restaurant. He’d eaten in the finest dining establishments from St. Louis to San Francisco. This food would hold its own with any of them.

  A bright shaft of light beamed across the floor when the front door opened. Earl Waggoner paused in the doorway until he caught sight of Andrew, then hurried over to join him.

  “Sorry to be late.” Waggoner took off his hat and set it on the corner of the empty chair next to him. “I was unavoidably detained.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Andrew said. “As you can see, I’ve already started eating. Why don’t you order, and we can talk business after we’ve finished?”

  “No need to wait on my account. I’d just as soon get down to business right now.” Waggoner flagged down the waitress and ordered beef stew and biscuits, then pulled out a folded paper and pushed it across the table to Andrew.

  “Here is my authorization to act as agent for Lute Bledsoe. As he told you yesterday, he can’t even sign his own name, let alone read a sales contract. That’s why he’s asked me to take care of all this on his behalf. You’ve already made the verbal agreement with him.” He paused as the waitress set down his food, then continued, “I’m just here to finalize the legal end of things.”

  Andrew chewed another bite of beef and took his time studying the paper. He couldn’t put his finger on just what it was about Waggoner that gave him pause, but something about the man set off warning bells in Andrew’s brain. “Where is Bledsoe?” he asked casually.

  Waggoner chuckled. “He left early this morning. Said he was going out to find another claim that would bring in even more money than this one.”

  Andrew set down the sheet and gave it a last looking over before handing it back to Waggoner. “Everything appears to be in order.” Unfortunately.

  “Good.” Waggoner wolfed down his last bite of stew and rubbed his napkin across his mouth, then carefully wiped each end of his mustache. “Let’s get down to it, then.”

  He wadded his napkin and dropped it onto his plate. Shoving the plate aside, he planted his elbows on the table and leaned toward Andrew. “My understanding is that you offered to purchase Bledsoe’s claim for the sum of five hundred dollars. Is that correct?”

  “That’s what we agreed on.” Andrew pulled a sheaf of papers from his coat pocket and handed them to Waggoner. “You can read the contract for yourself. It’s a fair price.”

  “Bledsoe is more than satisfied with that amount. And I’m sure your Colorado group would feel they’ve made a good bargain.” Waggoner’s thin lips spread and lifted his mustache in a wolfish grin. “But what about you?”

  “Me?” The question startled Andrew. “I’m hired to acquire properties at the best price possible. My own concern in this is to be sure the agreement is fair to both parties. I believe I’ve done that.”

  “But are you getting enough out of the deal?”

  “I told you, I’m in the employ of the Denver Consolidated Mining Company. I don’t have a financial interest in the deal.”

  “Then you’re missing out on some easy money.” Waggoner’s eyes held an eager light. “I have a proposition for you. Write out a new agreement, but make the selling price on this one seven hundred dollars. That’s still low enough that it won’t raise any concern from your investors.”

  The faint warning bells grew into clanging gongs. Andrew tried to keep his voice calm. “Are you telling me Bledsoe has changed his mind and wants to raise his price?”

  Waggoner snorted. “Bledsoe won’t know anything about it. He’ll get the money he’s expecting and that will be all, as far as he’s concerned.”

  “Then the additional money. . .” Andrew let his voice trail off, waiting for Waggoner to finish the thought.

  “Will be split between you and me, fifty-fifty.” Waggoner leaned back and laced his fingers across his stomach. “A nice little profit for both of us, don’t you agree?”

  “No. I don’t agree.” Andrew shoved his chair back and stood, towering over the other man. “Have you ever done any mining? Ever squatted
for hours in an icy stream on a placer claim, scooping up pan after pan of gravel and swirling it back and forth, waiting to spot just one bit of gold dust? Ever spent days on end shaking a rocker until you thought your arms were ready to fall off?”

  He planted his fists on the table and leaned over, just inches from Waggoner’s face. “Well, I have, and I’m here to tell you it’s brutally hard work. Bledsoe located that claim through his own sweat and determination. He didn’t try to make a killing on this deal. He just wanted a fair price in return for his labor. I don’t hold with covert transactions. If you can’t let your business dealings be known in public, there’s something wrong with them.”

  He tucked the contract back inside his inner coat pocket. “I’ll hand Bledsoe his money directly. And I’ll make sure he knows exactly how you planned to repay his trust.”

  “If you can find him.” Waggoner sneered. “He’s out in the Bradshaws by now.”

  “No, he isn’t.” A gray-haired man at a neighboring table turned toward them. “I saw him just this morning, over at Bowen Mercantile. Said he was waiting for some money so he could stock up on supplies before he headed out.” He fixed Waggoner with a level gaze. “This young fellow won’t be the only one spreading the word about how you do business. No one will trust you to so much as hold his horse for him by the time this day is out.”

  Waggoner’s expression now reminded Andrew more of a slinking coyote than a hungry wolf. “I’ll get to Bledsoe first and block the sale. No one’s going to make a profit out of this.” He stormed out, leaving a relieved silence behind him.

  ❧

  Jenny drew away from the swinging door and turned her attention back to dishing up the next order. Altercations like that weren’t commonplace in the restaurant, unless you counted Elizabeth springing to Jenny’s defense whenever some unwise customer made a disparaging remark about her background. The raised voices had caught her notice; the words that carried through the door riveted her attention.

  She hadn’t recognized either of the voices, although she felt an immediate distrust for Waggoner, just by hearing his oily tone.

  The other man, though—that rich baritone inspired confidence, even without a glimpse of his face.

  Jenny sliced another serving of roast and set it on a plate, her curiosity piqued by the argument she had heard. Most of their customers wouldn’t be so scrupulous about turning down an easy profit.

  Good thing this one had. Jenny knew Bledsoe as one of the miners who frequented the restaurant. Knew him and liked him. He’d worked hard to find that claim. He didn’t deserve to be cheated by some unscrupulous would-be agent.

  Apparently, the mellow-voiced man felt the same way. Jenny’s mind raced while she ladled out a helping of carrots. What manner of man would behave that way? And for someone he didn’t even know?

  His actions didn’t mesh with what she’d seen in the majority of the men she’d known. After her experiences with Martin Lester, Burleigh Ames, and the customers at the Nugget, Jenny had pretty much given up on men altogether. If she were ever going to be interested in a man, he would have to be one with the mellow-voiced stranger’s brand of integrity.

  “Jenny?” Elizabeth came through the swinging door, her face alight with curiosity. “There’s a customer out there who wants to talk to you.”

  “With me?” Jenny threw a wary glance toward the dining room. “Who is it?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I’ve never seen him before. And he didn’t mention you by name, just asked if he could speak with the cook.”

  Jenny smoothed her apron and patted her hair into place, pondering the strange request. A sudden thought struck her. Could it be the man she’d just heard? The one who put another man’s welfare ahead of his own gain? Her heart quickened at the idea of meeting him face-to-face.

  Hoping her face wasn’t too flushed from the heat of the kitchen, she pushed open the door and stepped into the dining room.

  three

  After Waggoner stomped out, Andrew realized every gaze in the restaurant was turned his way. Let them look. He knew he’d raised his voice and lost his temper, but he didn’t see how he could have done otherwise. The idea of Waggoner fleecing both Bledsoe and the group of investors galled him. The agent’s casual assumption that Andrew would be willing to go along with the plan sickened him.

  The dark-haired man Andrew had taken for a gambler raised his hand and called the waitress over. She spoke to him, then hurried off to the kitchen, and the customers turned back to their meals.

  Andrew fished in his pocket. He’d pay his bill and get out of there while he was no longer the center of attention. It looked like he’d be paying Waggoner’s bill, too, he noted grimly. One more black mark against the man’s name.

  The kitchen door swung open again, and a slender young woman stepped into the dining room. Andrew’s breath caught in his throat. Her face could have come straight out of a Gainsborough portrait. Curly blond bangs hung loosely over her high forehead. The rest of her hair, pulled up to the crown of her head in the back, descended in ringlets to just below her shoulders.

  She glanced around the room, her blond curls reflecting glints of copper in the light that streamed in through the front window. Then her blue-green gaze met Andrew’s, and for a moment his heart felt like it had frozen in his chest.

  Who was she? What was she like? Everything within him yearned to find the answers to those questions.

  But that would take time. Time he didn’t have. The Denver Consolidated Mining Company trusted him to carry out the job they’d hired him to do. As soon as he paid Bledsoe, he had to head down to Tucson to investigate the rumors of gold, silver, and copper in the southern part of the territory.

  Once he’d finished his business there, though, he might just come back and make the acquaintance of the girl with the coppery highlights in her hair. It would give him a reason to complete his business in Tucson as quickly as possible.

  For now, though. . . He tore his gaze away, left his money on the table, and stepped through the door to find the Bowen Mercantile and talk to Lute Bledsoe.

  ❧

  Jenny caught sight of a tall, sandy-haired man staring at her. Her heart sped up even more. Could this be the one who had asked to speak with her? Then he looked away, set some money on the table, and walked out.

  With a sense of loss, she watched him go, then scanned the rest of the room. A man in the far corner beckoned to her. He rose to greet her as she made her way to his table.

  “Are you the one responsible for the delicious meal I’ve just enjoyed?” He favored her with a slight bow. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Evan Townsend.”

  Jenny took in his frock coat and embroidered vest. Coupled with his confident air, they reminded her of some of the habitués of the Nugget’s gaming tables. “How do you do? I’m Jenny Davis.” She offered her hand, wondering why he had summoned her.

  His soft fingers enveloped hers in a warm grip. “And you truly are the one who did the cooking today? The ham, the crumb cake?”

  Jenny nodded. “Elizabeth and I share the cooking duties, but I did fix those.”

  His eyes glowed. “Beauty and talent in the same package. A rare find.”

  Jenny withdrew her hand and clasped her fingers behind her. “I need to get back to the kitchen, Mr. Townsend. If that’s all you wanted. . . ?”

  “No, wait. Forgive me for not coming straight to the point. I’d like to discuss a business proposition with you. Sit down.” He pulled out a chair and flashed a brilliant smile. “Please.”

  Every instinct told Jenny to turn on her heel and march back to the kitchen. She’d had enough experience with bold men and their business schemes to last a lifetime. She studied Evan Townsend and his assured smile. At least he’d asked her to stay, not ordered her to. Still, everything about him spoke of a man used to getting his own way. If she had any sense, she ought to get out of his reach before he spoke another word.

  To her amazement, s
he sat.

  Evan’s smile lit up the dim corner where they sat. “Thank you.” He pushed in her chair and seated himself directly across from her. “Miss Davis, I’m a businessman. I have various holdings throughout the territory: part ownership in a freighting company in La Paz; a lumber mill not far from here; a store near Camp Verde. Right now, I’m focusing on starting some new ventures in Tucson.”

  Jenny nodded distractedly, her mind back on the tasks going undone in the kitchen. With Elizabeth back there at the moment, she knew nothing would be left to scorch on the stove. But there were still carrots to slice and potatoes to put on to boil. And that last batch of rolls should be finished rising.

  Evan Townsend went on. “I’ll admit Tucson hasn’t been much of a showplace, but things have been changing since the territorial capital moved there two years ago. There are opportunities for a man who knows how to make things happen.” He settled back in his chair and looked straight at her. “A man like me, Miss Davis.”

  “That’s very interesting, Mr. Townsend. Now I really must—”

  “I’ve purchased a building in a favorable location. Granted, it’s small, but space can be added as needed. It’s an ideal spot, close to the center of the action. There’s plenty of profit to be made, and I’m just the man to do it.”

  Those rolls would be ready to overflow their pan if she didn’t get back to them. Jenny pushed back her chair and stood, eager to escape this flow of information. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Townsend.”

  He scrambled to his feet, a crestfallen expression twisting his features. “Then you’re not interested?”

  “Interested?” His astonishment made it apparent she’d missed something. But what?

  “I thought I’d made it clear. I intend to open a restaurant in Tucson. I’ll provide the building and the start-up capital, but I need someone with excellent cooking skills to make it a profitable investment. As soon as I tasted that meal, I knew I’d found one cook in a million.” His face lightened again as he looked at her. “And once I met you, that sealed my decision. What do you say? Will you come in with me as my partner? Your culinary skills and my business acumen. We’ll split the profits right down the middle.”