by Regina Scott
“I heard you talking,” she said now as she nestled the kettle into the coals. “You have it the wrong way. Nathan Hardee honors Miss Baxter by joining with her family. They have only one child in her. Now they will have two. It is a blessing.”
Henry nodded as if the matter were settled. “So says my wife.”
Waldo humphed.
He tried once more after he and Nathan had climbed to the hayloft later to sleep.
“Nice night tonight,” he ventured.
The stars over the valley had been glorious. “Good night to sleep,” Nathan agreed.
“I hear smoke from the houses and sawmills in Tacoma can blot out the sky sometimes.”
Nathan shook his head as he lay on his bedroll. “Rain clouds and tall trees can do that out here.”
“Lots of folks out of work, unhappy,” Waldo persisted. “Could lead to mischief.”
“Get some sleep, Waldo,” Nathan said.
His partner’s grumble was louder than the rustle of the hay as he turned away.
Nathan could only marvel at the certainty that flowed through him. He had chosen the right path. Now he had to see it through to the end.
Cora was awake before anyone else and waiting outside the hotel when Nathan and Waldo rode up the next morning. A breeze blew tendrils of her hair past her eyes, but they couldn’t disguise the smile on Nathan’s face.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Always,” she answered. “But we’ll have to wait for Mother, Winston, and Mr. Kincaid.”
He swung down from the saddle. “Maybe we should hurry them along. It’s a hard ride from here to Tacoma.”
“From here to Lake Park,” she reminded him as he looped his horse’s reins over the hitching post. “We have to fetch the carriage before we can return home.”
Waldo landed on the ground in a puff of dust. “Makes no never mind. It’s still a long day. You go hurry them folks along, Nathan. I’ll just keep our Miss Cora company.”
Their “Miss Cora.” She couldn’t help her grin as Waldo hitched Bud as well. Sparky waited patiently, and Quack glanced around, ears up with interest.
Nathan narrowed his eyes at his partner a moment, then turned to climb the steps to the boardwalk in front of the hotel. Waldo watched until the door shut behind him before venturing closer to Cora.
“Nathan tells me you two intend to court.”
A tingle shot through her. “We’ve discussed it.”
Waldo snorted. “Too much discussion, not enough action, if you ask me.”
Cora raised a brow. “I don’t recall asking you, sir.”
He held up his hands so fast Quack brayed a protest. “Now, don’t go getting up on your high horse. I’m on your side. I want to see Nathan settled, with young’uns running around. It’s where you’ll settle that concerns me. Would you give up all this”—he waved a hand around—“for city life?”
Quack plunked down on his rear as if planning to sit a spell. Across the street, three men staggered out of the saloon. “And stay out!” the proprietor shouted after them.
Cora regarded Waldo.
He dropped his hand. “Well, all right, this right here isn’t all that grand at the moment. But it’s a fine town, a growing area. You’ve seen Paradise, Miss Cora. You’ve been to the summit.”
“Which is why I know I can’t live there, Waldo,” Cora explained. “I worked hard to graduate from college and secure a position. I know what my future holds.”
Waldo peered closer, eyes bright. “Do you? And are you sure it’s what the good Lord intended?”
“Do not spout that nonsense about women being meant to be only wives and mothers,” Cora warned him. “Those are fine callings, noble even. Some of us are called in other ways.”
“So long as you know it’s a true calling,” he insisted, leaning back. “Nathan, he was called to help folks—doctoring, guiding.”
“And what were you called to do?” Cora asked, curious.
He puffed out his chest. “I was called to see Nathan happy. You make him happy—happier than I’ve ever seen him. I just can’t believe leaving the mountain will keep him happy.”
Her whole body felt tight suddenly. “I suppose we’ll both find out shortly.”
The door opened, and Winston and Kincaid emerged. Waldo stepped away from her as her mother and Nathan followed. The men went for the horses while Waldo checked Bud and the mules.
“Good morning, Mother,” Cora said.
Her mother inclined her head. “Good morning, dear. One more day of this tedium, and then we’ll be home.”
She waited for the anticipation, the excitement. None came. Very likely, she was merely tired.
But as she and her mother waited for the horses to be brought around, Waldo’s words came back to her. Her calling. She hadn’t really thought about her work that way. It was an opportunity for independence, to live beholden to no one who might disappoint her or abandon her. She felt called to fight for the vote, but, once won, permanently this time, what then? Was there something greater, something more important, she should be doing with her life?
Her mother was gazing out at the town, nose wrinkled as if she could not like what she saw. Cora closed her eyes.
Dear Lord, is there more you want of me? Will you give me wisdom to know the right choice for my future? Show me the way forward, for I’m not sure I see it correctly.
She didn’t know what to expect, but no heavenly voice thundered an answer. Instead, her tensions melted away like puddles in the sun, and, opening her eyes, she smiled at the strength coursing through her. All would be well.
As if her mother noticed the change in her, she frowned at Cora.
Cora couldn’t care. There was much to be said for talking with the One who held all the answers.
They made Lake Park by supper. Waldo insisted on stopping to eat, and even Mrs. Winston appeared grateful for the meal. Nathan’s partner was planning to stay the night there before moving on to Shem’s tomorrow.
Nathan was more concerned about Cora. He had ridden beside her, crowding Kincaid out when necessary, as much of the way as the road allowed. They’d talked of friends, her work at the bank, her efforts to secure the vote, his violin, anything except their future. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when she left Blaze to rest at the Lake Park livery stable and climbed into the carriage with her mother and Winston for the last leg into the city. One of the lads from the stable agreed to drive for them.
“Surely we require no further escort, Mr. Winston,” her mother said as the banker handed her into the coach.
Waiting her turn, Cora looked to Nathan.
“I started from your front door,” he said. “That’s where I finish.”
She nodded, smile pleased.
“And I would not abandon you so close to your home, my dear,” Kincaid assured her.
Her smile vanished.
He and Kincaid rode ahead of the coach.
“Outriders for the queen,” Kincaid mused. “Quite the honor once.”
Nathan refused to comment.
Kincaid tsked. “You still blame me for your father’s poor choices it seems.”
“Not his choices,” Nathan said. “Yours. You didn’t have to call in the debt when he was already reeling.”
“He wasn’t the only one in trouble when the Japanese tea fleet went to San Francisco instead of Tacoma. I had deals to bolster too.”
Nathan eyed him in the twilight. He sat confidently, reins held lightly, face calm. Could he truly not see the damage he’d done?
“And it never dawned on you to team up, support each other?” he challenged.
“No,” Kincaid said. “We often competed for the same work. I only loaned him money when I knew I’d gain the greater profit than pursuing the work myself. Now you and I are apparently competing for the hand of the fair Coraline.”
Nathan shook his head. “We’re not competing, Kincaid. She’ll never have you.”
�
�Perhaps not today,” he allowed. “Not flush from her triumph on the mountain. But it’s only a matter of time before she realizes she was meant for more than a cabin by the creek.”
The urge to tell him about Winston’s offer tugged. How satisfying to see that smug smile fade. Few would sneer at Nathan with the title of associate director of the Puget Sound Bank of Commerce after his name and Coraline Baxter on his arm.
The thought knifed his chest, and he caught his breath.
“Might have a stone,” he managed, before turning his horse aside and letting Kincaid ride on. He caught a quick glance of Cora’s face in the window as the carriage rumbled past as well.
Nathan raked his hand back through his hair. What was he thinking? Not even in the city yet, and he was dreaming of posturing. Strutting about, showing off Cora’s admiration of him, was a sure way to lose that admiration. Unlike Kincaid, he wasn’t courting her because she was the most sought-after woman in Tacoma.
He was courting her because his life wouldn’t be right without her in it.
Might as well admit it. He was falling in love, deeply, finally. And he was willing to pay any price if it meant her happiness. But turning himself into his father, or, worse, Kincaid, was no way to make Cora happy.
Lord, help me be your man. That’s the only way to happiness, for me and for Cora.
He drew in a breath and urged Honoré after the coach. He’d promised Cora he would accompany her home, and he would keep that promise.
It was dark when the coach pulled into the porte cochère. Winston handed Cora and her mother down. The young man from the livery stable was gazing around, eyes wide, as if he’d entered another realm. Darcy must have gone for Charlie, for he came hurrying around the house, and Lily stood in the doorway waiting for them.
“I’ll call on you tomorrow, Miss Baxter,” Kincaid said from his horse, doffing his hat.
“We look forward to it,” her mother said, eyeing Cora as if defying her to disagree.
Winston turned to Nathan instead as Kincaid rode off. “I cannot thank you enough, my boy. You were as good as your word. All the way to the top of Tacoma and back. Who would have thought it possible?”
“Cora,” Nathan said. “She knew. It was a pleasure serving you both.”
She pulled away from her mother and hurried to his side, reaching out to cling to the worn leather of his stirrup. “But you’re staying in town. We’ll see you again.” She nearly winced. Was that desperation in her voice?
He leaned down to cover her hand with his own, gaze soft.
“Waldo and I will be in town for at least a couple of days to gather supplies,” he assured her.
“And to give me an answer to my offer of employment, I hope,” Winston suggested.
He released Cora. “That too. I’ll call on you both soon.”
All she could do was nod as he turned his horse and rode into the night.
Her mother didn’t speak until they had entered the house. Lily took Winston’s derby.
“Tell Charlie to take good care of the stick on my pack,” Cora said to the maid. “And see if someone can send a word to Miss Carruthers tonight to let her know I’ve returned successful.”
Lily nodded.
“It was beyond generous of you to offer Mr. Hardee employment, Mr. Winston,” her mother was saying, “and I’m certain he must be grateful, but is it wise to continue an association?”
Cora bristled as Lily hurried off, but Winston patted her mother’s shoulder. “He’s a fine man, dearest. Whichever path he takes, he will go far.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” her mother said. “Very likely he will refuse you in any event. He seems to enjoy his mountain retreat.” She turned to Cora. “Coraline, I know you must be tired, but be sure to bathe and wash your hair before going to bed. I don’t want to have to burn the sheets too.”
“Yes, Mother,” Cora said dutifully. Weariness fell like a rock off Gibraltar. She could almost hear the whistle. She moved to her stepfather’s side and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Winston, for everything. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
His eyes twinkled. “I think we both know that isn’t true, but thank you, nonetheless. I couldn’t be prouder to call you daughter.”
“And I to call you father,” Cora assured him.
His cheeks were turning pink as he followed her mother.
The stairs felt narrow as Cora climbed behind them, the walls too cluttered with patterns and paintings. Her room seemed overly fussy as well. And it took Lily quite a while to fill the bathing tub. Unlike at Longmire’s Springs, which had hot water waiting, their cook had to heat the water on the stove, and Lily had to carry it upstairs for the tub. Her mother and father—yes, she would call him that—would be bathing too. While she waited, Cora sat on the window seat in her dressing gown and gazed out at the moonlight.
She’d never thought the house particularly noisy, but now she was aware of voices down the corridor, the clack of Lily’s shoes as she crossed the wood floor. Outside, from near the tideflats, came the horn of a Northern Pacific engine, mournful and long. Carriages trundled by on C Street.
And the smells. Lemon—must be the polish Darcy used on the wood. Lavender—her mother’s sachet. Something smokey. Had her mother already burned her clothes?
It was all normal, all commonplace. But it seemed odd, as if she’d suddenly outgrown a favorite gown.
That was it. She was bigger, stronger, than when she’d left. This life no longer fit. In fact, it felt entirely too tight.
Was this why Nathan hesitated to return to society? He’d certainly grown from the young man who had walked away after his father’s death. Was he willing to allow himself to be confined once more?
Or had she grown sufficiently to shake off the shackles herself?
Eugene’s houseman left Nathan standing on the porch when he knocked that night. He couldn’t blame the older fellow. Not only didn’t Nathan look like someone with whom Eugene would associate, but he’d arrived after dark and with a favor to beg. Eugene could well order the servant to tell Nathan to return in the morning.
Instead, his friend came to the door, banyan wrapped around his widening frame, and ushered him into the house.
“Nathan! What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect to see you back in town for some time.” His eyes were as wide and penetrating as an owl’s. “Did she do it? Did she climb the mountain?”
“She did,” Nathan assured him with a smile. “It should be in the papers soon.”
Eugene rubbed his hands together. “Well, that calls for a celebration. Come, let me introduce you to my wife.”
Nathan glanced down at his clothes. “You sure? I don’t look like good company.”
“Nonsense.” Eugene clapped him on the shoulder, and dust puffed out. “Amelia will be delighted to meet you. This way.”
He led Nathan into a parlor. Fine wood furnishings, pretty paintings, a carpet from the Orient, if he didn’t miss his guess. Eugene was doing all right for himself. The petite brunette sitting on the sofa by the fire looked up with a pleasant smile, hands pressed into her printed cotton skirts.
Eugene moved up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Darling, this is my old friend, Nathan Hardee. He guided Miss Baxter as she climbed Mount Tacoma.”
“Mount Rainier,” his wife said with a laugh. “That is the one area on which we disagree, Mr. Hardee. Please, sit down. Would you like refreshment?”
“I’m fine, ma’am, but thank you.” Nathan glanced around for a safe place to sit that wouldn’t risk dirtying the Thackerys’ fine furnishings. He settled for pulling a hardback chair closer to the couple on the sofa.
“Nathan tells me she did it,” Eugene reported to his wife.
“Oh, wonderful news,” she exclaimed. “I knew we were right in asking her to represent the Tacoma Women’s Suffrage Association.”
“Indeed,” Eugene said. “So, tell us why you’ve come to see us now, Nathan. It wasn’t just
to bring us the news.”
“No,” Nathan admitted. “Last time I was in town, you asked me to contact you if I ever needed anything.”
She glanced between him and her husband. “Would you like me to leave the room?”
Eugene looked to Nathan, brows up.
Nathan shook his head. “No, ma’am. This affects you as much as your husband, now that I think on it. I’ve been offered a job at the Puget Sound Bank of Commerce, and I’m debating whether to accept.”
“Congratulations,” Eugene said, though the words held doubt. “I didn’t realize you were considering returning.”
“I wasn’t,” Nathan said. “Until I grew to know Coraline Baxter. That’s why I need your help. I’d like advice on how to pass for the sort of gentleman who courts a woman like Cora.”
Eugene’s eyes widened.
His wife frowned. “But Mr. Hardee, how can you court Miss Baxter? She’s going to marry Mr. Kincaid. The announcement was in the paper today.”
25
Cora was up and waiting when Lily came in to start the fire the next morning.
“Will you want your blue silk for church today, miss?” the maid asked, moving to the wardrobe.
“I suppose I will,” Cora said. “And you’ll find Miss Fuller’s bloomer suit near the top of my pack. We must make sure it is returned to her safely.”
“Yes, miss.” She removed the dress from the wardrobe, then hugged it to her chest a moment. “Are you really going to marry Cash Kincaid?”
Cora tossed her head. “Of course not. I don’t care what Mother says.”
Lily lowered the dress. “It wasn’t Mrs. Winston that told me. It was in the paper. Charlie showed us.”
Cold, icier than the mountain wind, stabbed her. “Then show me,” Cora demanded.
Lily dropped the dress on the bed and ran.
Cora paced her room, cold quickly replaced with the heat of anger. This had to be Kincaid’s doing. Did he think she’d capitulate to save herself embarrassment? Even being called a jilt was better than marrying him.