An Unlikely Mother

by Danica Favorite

  When George arrived at the guardhouse, he saw the lights were on to indicate that the office was empty. The area was silent, still, a welcome respite from all the activity at the mining camp.

  The record books were easy enough to find, laid out across the desk for anyone to see. Dougherty was either stupid or truly believed that none of the miners were smart enough to figure out what was going on.

  He opened the first book and came across the employee list. The manager’s handwriting was terrible and hard to decipher. Ink blots were everywhere, and it was no wonder the business was in disarray. Surely George’s father hadn’t known how incompetent this man was.

  George scanned the list, noting that men were added as they were hired, and a line drawn through the names as they were let go. He found the entry for his name, and the salary listed next to it was more than he was being paid. So George hadn’t been mistaken. And based on what others had told him, Dougherty was paying many of the men less than was on the books, and then what? Pocketing the difference? The man might not be able to keep a clean set of books, but clearly he was smart enough to come up with a scheme that was likely robbing the mine of thousands of dollars.

  He ran his finger down the list and found the time frame during which Pierre’s father would have been hired, based on when Pierre said they’d arrived. Pierre had said his father’s name was Henri Martin. Nothing.

  The only possibility was a large spot of ink covering up one of the crossed-out names. Carefully scraping away at the ink, George uncovered the first letter. O.

  Not Henri.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. What now? According to the employee records, Henri Martin had never worked in the mine. Then he realized...to an American not familiar with French, Henri could sound like it started with an O.

  George scraped away more of the ink blotch. Onree Mar...and the rest was undecipherable. But, yes, this could be Henri Martin. Not definite proof, but enough to know that Pierre’s father most likely had been working here.

  According to the ledger, Onree was still receiving his pay. So why was his name scratched out?

  George closed the book, wondering if any of the others would give him a clue as to what happened to Pierre’s father. At least George knew one thing: there was definitely something shady going on in the mine. If all the salaries had been inflated, it was no wonder they were losing money. Obviously someone, probably Dougherty, was skimming money from the mine.

  The second ledger appeared to be a supply inventory. The prices seemed high, but George didn’t know if it was because of the higher prices in Leadville, or if these numbers were also being inflated.

  As George was reaching for a third ledger, the door opened and Dougherty walked in.

  “What are you doing in my office?”

  George froze. What reasonable excuse could he give? Now that he knew Dougherty was most likely lying about Pierre’s father, and he knew that there was something funny going on with the payroll at least, it seemed like all he had was more questions. For a moment, he debated about giving his real identity, but at this point, without knowing everything that was going on, did he have enough to fix the problems at the mine? All he knew was that Dougherty was skimming money, not how or why the mysterious explosions were happening.

  “I invited him,” a voice said from behind Dougherty. When Dougherty stepped into the room, the man walked in behind him. John Montgomery.

  Dougherty spun. “What do you mean, you invited him?”

  “My daughter, Flora, is caring for the child of a miner who’s gone missing. When George told me that the other mines had allowed him to look at their personnel records to see if the father had given any information that might be helpful in his search, I told George to come here tonight and take a look.”

  Then Montgomery turned his attention to George. “I apologize for being held up. Flora wanted to share a cup of tea before she went to bed.”

  “You don’t have the authority to come in here and go through the records,” Dougherty said, his face reddening. “The Bellinghams might be entertaining the idea of a sale, but that doesn’t give you the right to come in here as you please.”

  “It’s customary for a prospective buyer to review the books of any business,” Montgomery said smoothly.

  George took a deep breath. For whatever reason, Montgomery had decided to help George. Probably for Flora’s sake, or maybe for Pierre’s, to get George out of Flora’s life as quickly as possible. But whatever it was, George was grateful.

  “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to start without you.” George pointed at the books. “I don’t really know where to begin.”

  “You can begin by getting out of my office!”

  The door opened, and Stumpy entered the room.

  “What’s going on in here?”

  “Where have you been?” Dougherty demanded. “How did this man get into my office?”

  Montgomery stepped forward. “I told him I’d been given access and to let Mr. Baxter in. Again, the fault is mine. I apologize.”

  “He doesn’t take orders from you!” Dougherty’s face got even redder. “I’m still the boss here.”

  “Earlier today, you told me that all the resources I needed would be at my disposal,” Montgomery said. “Apparently, I misunderstood.”

  “All of you, get out!”

  They exited the office, and even in the dim light, George could tell Stumpy was worried. He’d promised not to get the other man in trouble, and clearly, by Dougherty’s reaction, no one in this situation was safe.

  Montgomery motioned for George to follow him, but George held up a hand. “Sir, I appreciate what you did in there. But if I could be so bold as to ask another favor, Stumpy is a good man. Doing the best he can to provide for his family, and if he loses his job, well, that hardly seems fair, now, does it?”

  George’s words didn’t seem to erase the worry on Stumpy’s face, but Montgomery nodded.

  “I’ll see what I can do. If Dougherty lets you go because of this, come see me. I’ll find a place for you at one of my mines.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Stumpy said. “Now, you’d all best be going. If Dougherty sees you here when he comes back out, he’s liable to...it won’t be good.”

  “Understood.” George nodded at him. “And thank you. I know you put yourself out for us, and I appreciate it. I won’t forget this.”

  Stumpy winked. “If you ever strike the big one, you’d best find me.”

  “I will.” George smiled at him as he followed Montgomery down the path toward the camp.

  They stopped at a ramshackle cabin some distance from the glowing lights and sea of tents.

  “Thank you again, sir,” George began. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  Montgomery stared at him. “You can begin by telling me what you’re really doing here, George Baxter Bellingham.”

  * * *

  Flora spent the next morning doing chores around the cabin, teaching Pierre the words for the things they were doing, and for simple objects they interacted with. He wouldn’t remember it all, of course, but hopefully the more she helped him engage with the English language, the less isolated he’d feel.

  “Let’s go to the creek for some more water,” Flora told him, holding up a bucket. “Do you remember what this is called?”

  “Bu-kit.”

  The little boy grinned at her nod.

  “Very good.” She held out her hand and Pierre took it.

  As they walked toward the creek, Flora spied Sarah and her friends sitting around, talking. For all the accusations the other girl levied at Flora for not working, it seemed like every time Flora saw Sarah, she was idle. She shouldn’t judge, she knew, since Sarah probably worked very hard at other times, and just as Sarah never noticed Flora working, it didn’
t mean the girls didn’t work.

  “Allo, ladeez!” Pierre waved at the group of women. The little boy was friendly and gregarious, and though he’d gotten off on the wrong foot with many of the ladies at camp, he still liked to greet them.

  As long as he didn’t notice Sarah. He still liked to hide from her, and generally didn’t say much when she was around.

  “What a little darling,” Ellen Fitzgerald, one of the women, exclaimed, coming toward them. “Why aren’t you with the other children?”

  “He doesn’t speak much English, but we’re trying,” Flora explained.

  “Well, he is becoming quite the charmer, isn’t he?” Ellen turned to Sarah. “He’s really not so terrible.”

  “My name is Pierre,” Pierre said proudly in his halting English. “I help Flora.”

  Ellen bent down in front of him. “My name is Ellen.”

  “El-len,” Pierre repeated. He pointed to the bucket. “I help water Flora. You like water?”

  “Oh, he is precious,” Ellen said, standing. “Flora, would you like to join us while Pierre gets the water?”

  Flora looked at the other girls, who seemed hesitant. Sarah glowered.

  Oh, it would be nice to finally be able to socialize in a group like this. Maybe even to have Sarah thaw a bit.

  But the little boy swinging the bucket beside her reminded her that she had other duties to attend to.

  “I would love that, but Pierre isn’t old enough to get water on his own. Some other time?” She smiled at Ellen, hoping the other girl could see she was being sincere.

  Ellen nodded. “Of course. Some other time.”

  The relief Flora saw written on the other girls’ faces told her it would be a long time coming, but Flora was grateful Ellen had made the effort. Perhaps everyone didn’t hate her, after all.

  Flora and Pierre continued their journey to the creek, noticing that George and her father were standing by the rock where George had found Pierre.

  “Hello,” Flora said, waving at them. “What are you two doing here?”

  George trotted over to see them, immediately picking up Pierre and swinging him around.

  “Your father wanted to see where I’d found Pierre,” he said, setting the little boy down. “He’s decided to help me search for Pierre’s father.”

  Looking over at her father, Flora tried to see if his expression betrayed anything about what he might be up to. Though her father was a good man, she couldn’t see him ignoring work and his other responsibilities to help with this project. When she caught his eye, she knew. He was uncomfortable with the amount of time she was spending with a miner and wanted to act as a chaperone as much as possible.

  “How kind of you,” Flora said, trying not to betray her disappointment that her father felt the need to supervise her so closely. “I’m sure Pierre will be grateful to know that so many people care about finding his father.”

  Her father nodded. “A man just doesn’t disappear like that with no trace, not with a child waiting for him to return.”

  Once again, Flora tried to force the unthinkable out of her head. Though it seemed unlikely that a man would have willingly abandoned Pierre, she also couldn’t fathom something happening to him.

  But if something had, all she could think was, what then? What about little Pierre?

  She brought her attention back to George. “Why aren’t you at work? I’m not used to seeing you so early.”

  “I had a disagreement with the mine manager,” George said. “He told me to take a few days off without pay to see if having less money would make me more willing to listen to him.”

  “And I will pay you for that time,” her father said. “It’s wrong of him to punish you for following my directions.”

  “I’m just grateful he didn’t fire me,” George said, smiling. “And I don’t mind. It gives me more time with Pierre.”

  Something in the exchange made Flora think there was something else going on between the men. But it didn’t seem right to question it, not when she already suspected her father was helping because he thought there was more between Flora and George than there ought to be.

  George picked up Pierre again and tickled him, the little boy’s giggles ringing through the area. Such a happy sound. It was good for Pierre to have something to smile about.

  Flora filled the bucket with water and set it on the ground. “All right, you two. George may not have to work today, but we have plenty to do. I’m sure Rose is wondering where we’re at.”

  Pierre looked up at George. “I help Flora,” he said proudly.

  “You’re learning. Nice job!” George ruffled the little boy’s hair, then smiled at Flora. “You’re doing splendidly with him. Have you thought about becoming a teacher?”

  Of course it would be on George’s mind to suggest a job to Flora. Her parents would never permit it, of course, especially since her one attempt at becoming a nanny had failed so miserably.

  Still, what Flora loved most about being around George was that he always saw her for the possibilities in her life. He believed in her in a way that no one else had. George saw her for the woman she wanted to be, not the woman she once was.

  “I’m sure that would be lovely,” Flora said, glancing at her father. “But I can’t see my parents permitting such a thing.”

  “No, we wouldn’t,” he said, putting his arm around Flora. “You deserve a family of your own, not having to put up with all that other nonsense.”

  Then he looked over at Pierre. “Present company excluded, of course. I agree that you’re doing a fine job with Pierre, and that just proves how you were meant to be a mother. Some fine young man will scoop you up, and you’ll have a very nice life, I’m sure.”

  Her father’s words were meant for George, there was no doubt. Basically, keep away from my daughter, because I have a brilliant match planned for her.

  The trouble was, none of those men seemed to like Flora very much. George, on the other hand, was constantly reminding her of how much he liked her.

  So what was a girl to do?

  “Thank you, Father.” She smiled at him. “But we must get back to the camp now.”

  “Let me take that for you.” George picked up the bucket. “I think we were done here, anyway.”

  “Thank you.”

  Though Flora smiled at him, part of her wanted to ask him what he was thinking. The nicer he was to her, the more likely her father was to keep interfering. And it wasn’t that she didn’t love her father, but it was hard enough being in this situation without his reminding her constantly of her duty.

  It wasn’t that she held out any romantic hope for George, but no one understood how good it felt to be with someone who accepted her for who she was without judgment.

  George liked her, and she didn’t have to earn it.

  When they arrived back at camp, the other ladies were gathering up supplies to go to the mine. Pastor Lassiter had taken to going up at the noon break to provide refreshment.

  “Ah, Flora!” The pastor greeted her warmly. “Rose needed to return to town today, so I was hoping you’d be willing to join us. Just to serve water, nothing too taxing. People might find little Pierre charming as he helps.”

  “Of course.” Flora gave him another smile, realizing that her cheeks were beginning to hurt from being so agreeable. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go help, but she could already feel Sarah’s eyes on her, burning into her back in disapproval.

  They loaded up a wagon, and Flora walked behind with Pierre and the other ladies on the way to the mine. Though the ladies chattered amiably amongst themselves, they didn’t include Flora. In the past, she would have found a way to jump in, but now, she felt insecure about speaking up where she may not be wanted.

  Sarah’s giggle sounded louder than no
rmal, and it pained Flora’s heart every time she heard it. George stepped in beside her.

  “I’m so glad to see you joining in with everyone. I think much of the problem has been that you and Pierre have been so isolated. Now that you’re working with them, the other ladies are sure to see what a wonderful woman you are.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly, feeling eyes upon her. “I know you’re trying to help, but the more the others see you talking to me in a personal way, the more they will think you’re a suitor, and we know that’s not possible. Besides, it will only make things worse. So please, don’t try to help.”

  “I beg your pardon,” George said, walking away.

  Part of her wanted to call him back, to beg his forgiveness, to tell him that she was grateful for his friendship. That she appreciated everything he’d done for her.

  But that would be most telling of all. And she’d never convince the others that there was nothing going on between herself and George.

  The trouble with having spent her whole life trying to enforce society’s rules was that she knew what would be going too far. And to lose her heart to someone outside their social circle would make her an outcast forever. Wasn’t that what had happened with Cecilia Dean, who’d married the family’s groom? Mrs. Dean no longer spoke of her daughter, and most people acted like the poor girl had died or something. Flora might be brave, but she was not that brave.

  Chapter Seven

  George knew better than to take offense at Flora’s words. Were it his sister being courted by a miner, he’d have called the man out. Not that he was courting Flora, of course. They were just friends. But even George knew enough about the rules of polite society to know that there was a fine line between being just friends with a young lady and encouraging an inappropriate attachment.

  He sighed as he looked around to find a place to walk so he wouldn’t be in the way, but where he could still observe Flora and Pierre. After he left, he heard giggles from some of the women, and Flora had turned a shade of red that wasn’t at all flattering to her delicate features. He’d have liked to say something in her defense, but Flora was right, it would only serve to make others think there was something going on between the two of them.