Refining Fire

by Cox, Carol

  Her heart swelled in her chest until she thought she’d burst with gladness. After all that had happened, all the years of pain and humiliation, she was finally free.

  She hummed a few more bars, reveling in her newfound liberty. Scenes from the evening floated through her memory, the bright lights, the music, the ladies and gentlemen of Tucson dressed in their finest.

  Responding to bows and smiles and nods of greeting, and not one of them laced with a sneer of contempt. . . Jenny wanted to soar right out the window and join the stars in their celestial dance.

  What was it Evan’s friend had called her? The most beautiful woman there? And later, after the evening’s entertainment had ended, Evan had introduced her to others of his acquaintance, each of them trying to outdo the flattery of the others.

  For once, the praise hadn’t bothered her. They had spoken in a friendly manner, with no innuendos or disreputable overtones, and their words acted as a refreshing rain on the parched ground of Jenny’s soul.

  Would she ever see any of those men again? It would be interesting to see if any of them lived up to their promises to dine at the Pueblo. Would she recognize them if they did? She had been introduced to such a number of new people, they all seemed to meld into a faceless blur.

  Weariness overcame her at last. She rolled onto her side and folded her hands beneath her cheek. One face stood out in her mind, superseding all the others. Who could it be? Her sleepy mind puzzled over the mystery, sorting through the men she’d met that night.

  Just before sleep claimed her, the answer came. She hadn’t seen him that night at all. The tanned face, sandy hair, and clear blue eyes belonged to the man from Prescott, whose face seemed to be permanently etched in her memory.

  ❧

  “How are you feeling today?” Evan lounged against the kitchen doorway, watching Jenny run a tea towel across a newly washed plate.

  “I’m fine,” Jenny replied. With the last of the lunch customers gone, she needed only to stack the dishes and wipe down the counters before she closed the doors for the afternoon. “Better than that, actually. I feel absolutely invigorated today.”

  Evan lifted one eyebrow. “You are aware, aren’t you, that it’s even hotter today than yesterday?”

  “I’m fine,” Jenny repeated. “Truly.” She scrubbed the last section of the counter and rolled her sleeves back down, buttoning the cuffs in place.

  Evan lifted his hands in surrender. “I won’t argue with you. I don’t have the energy. But I do have an idea how we can relieve you of some of your workload.”

  “But I don’t—”

  Evan cleared his throat, cutting off her protest. “You’re doing a wonderful job of running the place, and I realize you’re enjoying yourself, and that’s fine—for now. But I’m looking at it from a larger perspective. What happens if you wear yourself out to the point you get sick? I’d have no trouble taking over the books, but I could never step in and manage the cooking. We’d have to shut the doors, Jenny. Do you want that?”

  She stared at him, sobered by the picture his words painted.

  He went on. “I want you to consider hiring a helper, someone you can train to cook your way. Think of it as an investment. You can still oversee the kitchen, but with another pair of hands to help, you’ll be able to concentrate more on the management end of things. It looks like I’m going to have to spend more time away from here than I thought. I need to be able to count on you to run the whole place, and you can’t do it alone.”

  Jenny squeezed the cleaning rag between her fingers. Evan had a point, especially when it came to giving her more time to do the office work. The discovery that she possessed a keen business mind and enjoyed using it buoyed her spirits. Much as she hated to admit it, though, she did feel tired at the end of the day. So tired, she often had to force herself to stay awake long enough to make the ledger entries and draw up supply orders every evening.

  What if she followed Evan’s suggestion? She wouldn’t want just anyone working in her kitchen. She and Elizabeth had gotten along famously, but that surely wouldn’t be the norm.

  But the thought of spending more time ensconced in her little office tantalized her. If Evan was right, if she could find someone willing to learn to cook the way she did. . .

  “I’ll do it.” She raised her gaze to his and chuckled at his look of surprise. “I’m a businesswoman, remember? And this will be the best choice for our business. But,” she admonished, “you have to promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  Jenny folded her arms and lifted her chin. “Don’t go looking for someone to fill the position. This is something I want to do myself.”

  A slow smile lit Evan’s face. “I’m beginning to realize there are a lot of things you want to do for yourself. Have at it, then. You’re the lady in charge.”

  five

  Jenny scooted a shipping crate across the floor of her new dwelling and set it in place next to a straight-backed chair, where it would serve as a small table. She draped a colorful serape over the crate and stood back to observe the effect. What a change this sun-drenched space was from her stuffy little rented room!

  She twitched a corner of the serape into place, marveling at the transformation that had taken place in her life. Jenny Davis, businesswoman. Jenny Davis, part owner of the Pueblo Restaurant. And now, Jenny Davis, homeowner.

  The concept still seemed foreign to her. Who would have thought the girl whose life had been shattered by tragedy would one day become the proud owner of this small but neat adobe home?

  She reached for a jar to use as a vase on her makeshift table, then realized the time. The rest would have to wait until after supper. She yawned and stretched, already feeling the effects of missing her afternoon siesta. In just a few hours, she promised herself, she would be back to finish moving in and enjoy a well-earned night’s sleep in her new home.

  Outside, the late afternoon sun glinted off the little adobe’s whitewashed walls. Jenny paused for a moment to cast a lingering glance at the rosebush blooming beside the front door. It looked like—no, it was—a real home. Her home.

  Meyer Street had started coming back to life. Jenny passed a donkey-drawn carreta and smiled at a group of dust-covered children kicking an empty can along the way. When one of her regular customers called out her name and waved a greeting, she smiled and waved back.

  Home. The word meant more than a roof over her head. More, even, than her whitewashed adobe dwelling. It signified a place where she was accepted, a place to belong. For the first time, Jenny felt she’d found that place. A place of contentment, or as near to contentment as a person could expect to come.

  Jenny sidestepped a man carrying a load of firewood on his back, then continued her musings. Perfect peace wasn’t an attainable goal for people like herself. She knew that and accepted it, even though the knowledge left an aching void she didn’t often acknowledge.

  Still, life here was good. Better than she had any reason to expect a few short months ago.

  Her steps quickened when the Pueblo Restaurant came into view. Here she had a place to call her own and a business where she could indulge in doing the cooking she loved and improve on her newfound business skills. She had no cause for complaint.

  She unlocked the front door and gazed around the dining room. In her mind’s eye, she could already see the benefits an addition to the building would create. A bigger dining area, first of all. And certainly more kitchen space.

  She hung her wide-brimmed bonnet on a peg in her office and hurried to the kitchen to don her apron and prepare the evening meal. Once the pork pie was in the oven, she scrubbed and peeled the potatoes methodically, smiling when she thought of Elizabeth’s last letter where her friend had mentioned the possibility of building an addition to the Capital Restaurant & Bakery. Wouldn’t she be surprised to hear about Jenny’s own plans?

  Thoughts of those plans kept her mind occupied while her hands were busy scraping carrots and mak
ing biscuits.

  The afternoon passed quickly, and, before long, the scrape of the front door followed by the shuffle of feet announced the arrival of the evening’s first diner. Jenny did a hasty check to make sure all was in order, then put on a welcoming smile and went to greet her guest.

  “Red!” Her smile broadened in genuine pleasure when she recognized her favorite customer. Red Dwyer might not be as dapper and elegant as the men Evan had introduced her to the night before, but his presence never failed to lighten Jenny’s spirits.

  “And how are you this fine evening, Miss Jenny?” The wiry Irishman removed his floppy felt hat and brushed a light coating of dust off his miner’s garb before seating himself at the table he preferred, nearest the kitchen.

  “Ready to hear more of your stories about lost mines and buried treasure,” Jenny teased. “But first, let me take your order. What would you like tonight?”

  “Would you be having any of that pork pie you do so well? All the time I’ve been out in the Dragoon Mountains, my mouth’s been watering for it.”

  Jenny laughed at the blatant flattery. “And since you’re sitting where the aroma floats right out the kitchen door, you know perfectly well that it’s on the menu.”

  Red’s eyes glinted with good humor. “Ah, Lass, you’ve too quick a mind for the likes of me. Bring me a portion of your pork pie, then, and fill the plate to overflowing.”

  Jenny complied, bringing herself a smaller serving as well. “It looks like a slow night,” she said, glancing around at the otherwise empty room. “Mind if I sit with you? You can fill me in on your latest adventures while we eat.”

  “A succulent meal and the company of a charming lady to go with it?” Red gave a contented sigh. “What more could a man ask for?”

  Jenny felt a faint blush rise to her cheeks. Red’s constant Irish blarney had made her uncomfortable at first. It had taken her some time before she realized he meant it in a good-natured way and not with the unpleasant familiarity of many of the miners she’d known at the Nugget. Now she treated him with the easy camaraderie of someone she’d known for years rather than a stranger who’d only come into her life a few weeks before.

  It’s a little like the way Pa and I used to talk, she reflected. Red was older than her pa would have been, though. Probably in his mid to late fifties, although his sunbaked face made it hard to judge. And the gray strands that threaded through his dark red hair attested to his advancing years.

  But his cheery disposition and sparkling sense of humor showed no signs of age. He took a bite of the pork pie and closed his eyes as if in transports of bliss. “This is it. The very flavor I’ve been dreaming of these past days.” He dug into the rest of his meal with gusto, not speaking again until he had finished and blotted his lips with his napkin. “Jenny, you’ve saved a desperate man.”

  Jenny swallowed a bite of her own meal and shook her head. “Enough of the flattery, Red. Let’s hear some more of your stories.”

  “Ah, well. Where shall I begin?” He slurped his coffee and settled back in his chair. “You’ve heard about me childhood in Clonlara, the fairest spot on the Emerald Isle, correct?”

  “Mm-hm. And how you sailed to America to escape the terrible famine in Ireland.”

  “And my time in Boston up until I decided to follow the lure of riches and headed to the gold-encrusted hills of California to make me fortune?”

  Jenny pushed her plate aside and leaned forward, enjoying the banter involved in recounting Red’s history. “And instead of finding the mother lode, you barely made enough to keep yourself alive. And so. . .”

  “And so I came to search for El Dorado here in Arizona Territory for one last try at making a strike before I get too old to pack up my burro and head off into those tempting hills.”

  Jenny laughed. Only Red would call the rocky hills surrounding Tucson tempting. She’d heard plenty of other terms for the area: bleak and barren, for starters.

  “It must be so different here than where you grew up.”

  Red ran his hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head. “You’re right about that. This heat-blasted country is a far cry from the Emerald Isle, to be sure. On the other hand, there’s always that hint of treasure to be found, the promise of fortune lying just ahead. It’s drawn me for years. I couldn’t turn my back on it now if I wanted to.”

  Jenny tapped her fingers on the table. “I’m still waiting for my story.”

  “But, Lass.” Red spread his hands wide. “It sounds like you know my life history as well as I do. What more could I be telling?”

  “It doesn’t matter what you tell; it’s the way you tell it. You could spin a grocery list into one of Scheherazade’s tales. You’ve been gone five days. Surely you’ve had some adventures during that time. Things just don’t stay quiet for long when you’re around.”

  “Ah.” Red tipped his chair back on two legs and drained the last of his coffee, seeming to ponder Jenny’s accolade. “Well, if it’s news of my latest wanderings you’re wanting, you shall have it.”

  He rocked his chair forward, setting the front legs back on the clay floor with a thud. He cleared a space in front of him, planted his hands flat on the table, and looked straight into Jenny’s eyes. “I’ve found it, Lass.”

  “Found what?” she started to ask, but the dancing excitement in his eyes set a certainty growing in her mind.

  “Red!” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure the place was still empty, then continued in hushed tones. “You mean you struck it rich out there?”

  The wiry man rubbed his palms together and grinned. “The next thing to it, anyway. I’ve located a vein of silver out there. A big one, by the looks of her. The biggest this old rock pounder has ever seen. I saw a streak of white quartz on the side of a gully and went to check it out. And there she was, just sitting there as if she’d been waiting all these years for me to come along.” His eyes gleamed with anticipation. “She’s the strike I’ve dreamed of through all my days of wandering, Lass. I know she is.” His pale blue eyes glistened and seemed to focus on a scene far beyond the confines of the restaurant’s walls.

  Jenny stared in openmouthed wonder, then burst out laughing. “You old scoundrel! How long were you going to keep that to yourself if I hadn’t dragged it out of you?”

  “I had no fear about that.” Red’s mouth tweaked up in an impish grin. “Knowing how fond you are of stories, and all.”

  “So why are you sitting here talking to me instead of heading back out there to bring it out and come back a wealthy man?”

  “Ah, there’s the problem.” Red rubbed his hand along his jawline. “It’s a simple enough answer, though. I’m broke.” He chuckled at her gasp of dismay. “I have enough to pay for my supper, never fear. And I’m able to pay for my lodging and otherwise keep body and soul together for the time being. But enough to finance the equipment I’ll need for a venture like that. . .alas, no.”

  “But you can’t just walk away from it. Not after you’ve worked so hard all these years.”

  “I won’t walk away forever, Lass. Just until I pull together the funds I need to see me through. Get some investors, perhaps. That vein of silver has waited for me this long. It won’t be so bad for either of us to wait a little longer.”

  Jenny stared at him, turning the information over in her mind. “What do you plan to do?”

  “Drive a wagon, haul adobe bricks, whatever happens to come along. I’m not too proud to do any honest work. If the good Lord intends for me to see this thing through, He’ll provide a way; of that I’m sure. And in the meantime, I’ve heard of a young man who’s worked with the mines up Colorado way. I may just strike up an acquaintance with him and see what advice he might have for me.”

  Jenny’s long-ingrained suspicions kicked in. “Don’t you go telling a total stranger about this, Red Dwyer. Do you hear me? You’re a kind, honorable man and you think everyone else is the same way. But I’m here to tell you, people are capab
le of putting on a good front when they’re after something. It isn’t safe to give your trust to just anyone.”

  Red listened to her tirade, then fixed her with a shrewd glance mingled with a look of compassion. “I have the feeling you’re speaking from experience, Jenny dear. Someday, maybe you’d like to turn the tables and be telling me your story for a change.”

  Jenny forced a tight smile. “Some things are better left forgotten, Red.” She heard the sharpness in her voice and softened her tone. “But thank you for caring.”

  “I have no daughter of my own. It’s easy to care about you. And anytime that burden from your past gets too heavy to bear, remember you can always share it with your old friend, Red, will you?”

  Jenny gave a brief nod, her mind already on other matters. “You mentioned getting investors. How much money do you think you’d need?”

  Red pulled a slip of paper and a stub of pencil from his pocket and began jotting down figures. When he’d tallied them, he pushed the paper across to her.

  Jenny drummed a light tattoo on the table with her fingertips. Her earnings from the restaurant had surpassed her fondest expectations, but after the purchase of her house, she couldn’t come up with the full amount Red needed.

  Still, what she could manage might be enough to make a difference. She’d seen Elizabeth take a similar chance on some of the miners around Prescott and knew the potential for profit existed. Perhaps investing in Red would be a way of helping both him and herself. If Evan could be involved in more than one moneymaking enterprise, so could she.

  “What if I grubstaked you half of that?” The look of surprise in his eyes made her glad she’d asked.

  “Girl, I’m not asking you to part with your hard-earned money. That wasn’t my intention at all.”

  “I know.” Jenny grinned. “If I’d thought you were asking, I might not have offered.” She stood and brushed the wrinkles out of her apron. “There aren’t many people in this world that I trust, Red. You’re one of them.” She extended her hand across the table. “If you’re willing to take it, the money is yours.”