“Everything, including a bunch of cowboys and a strange dog Mrs. Jordan brought with her from England. His name is Sir Rigsly and he loves to play in the water.”
Matty’s eyes widened as he gaped at Mr. Gaffney then at Gia. “I want to play with the dog, Mamma.”
Gia didn’t say anything, just smiled at her son. She really should have made the effort to get her children to town before winter set in. Now, without any means of transportation, they would be stuck in the mountains until spring. At least the cabin provided shelter and they had plenty of wood to burn, even if she did need to chop it almost every day to keep the place warm enough for the children.
“Mrs. Jordan came from England? Is that where Mr. Jordan is from, too?” Gia asked, hoping to divert Matty’s attention away from potential playmates and pets.
Mr. Gaffney grinned. “No, ma’am. Thane Jordan is a rancher through and through. He came to Baker City with three friends when he was sixteen or so. They went to work mining gold. One of the friends was killed, but they struck gold. Thane bought out the others and started investing his money. He’s got one of the biggest spreads in the area. His wife is a real English lady, though. She wasn’t too fond of the primitive conditions on the ranch when she first arrived, but she settled in well enough, especially when Thane built a new house that has indoor plumbing.”
Gia couldn’t imagine the wonder of indoor plumbing any more than she could envision what it would be like to meet someone of English nobility. The odds of her encountering Mrs. Jordan were slim anyway. She’d have no idea what to say or how to act around someone like the woman.
“How did they meet?” she asked, curious in spite of herself.
Mr. Gaffney grinned again. “That’s an interesting story I’ll save for another day. Better yet, you should ask Mrs. Jordan to tell it to you.” The man stood and carried his dishes to the sink then tugged on his coat, wrapped a scarf around his neck, and lifted the saddlebags that were still leaning against his chair.
“I um…” He gave her a cautious glance. “I have a few things I’d like to leave for you in thanks for your hospitality, Mrs. DeVille.”
Gia stood, Gwennie perched on one arm. “That is not necessary, sir. I would have done the same for anyone who was caught in the storm last night, especially one who was so kind and helpful. Truly, I apologize for my…”
His finger on her lips silenced her. In fact, she felt the tingle of his touch long after he dropped his hand.
“Please, Mrs. DeVille. For their sake,” he glanced at Matty then Gwennie, “take these paltry offerings.” He pulled a box of fancy chocolates, a long length of bright blue ribbon, and a package wrapped in paper that looked to be the right size for a book from his bag and set them on the table. “Please take them. It’s the least I can offer after drinking all your coffee and eating that delicious breakfast.”
Unable to speak around the lump in her throat, she nodded, all the while wondering for whom he’d purchased the gifts. It had to be the crazy woman who’d spurned his affections.
“You two keep an eye on your mother. I’ll be back soon to see how you all are getting along.” The man tugged on his gloves, slung the saddlebags over his shoulder, then ruffled Matty’s hair.
“You’ll come see us again?” Matty asked with a hopeful expression that made Gia’s heart ache.
“You bet I will.” Mr. Gaffney hunkered down and accepted the hug Matty gave him. He stood and smiled at Gwennie. After tweaking her nose and making her giggle, he lifted his hat in his hand. “Take care, Mrs. DeVille. I’ll let you know what I find out about Matty’s rocks and that other matter we discussed last night.”
The other matter being the whereabouts of her missing husband. Mr. Gaffney had asked if she remembered the name of the mine where Rocco went seeking employment. Gia had no idea, since Rocco hadn’t mentioned it.
She watched as Mr. Gaffney opened the door, tipped his head to them once more, and disappeared into the white world outside.
Would she see him again? Or would he, like her husband, never return.
Chapter Three
Grady swung off Happy and removed his saddle as his assistant manager strode up to him. He gave Jason Bowie a quick glance then went back to tending to his horse.
“Thought you were staying in town all weekend,” Jason said, setting Grady’s saddle on a rack inside the barn. “Ain’t there a dance tonight you were planning to take your girl to?”
Grady had hoped to avoid any discussion of his plans that had gone so far awry. At least no one knew he’d been ready to propose to Ethel. Well, no one but him and Sears, Roebuck, and Company where he’d ordered the ring. Then again, he could have bought it for his granny for all they knew.
He watched as Jason took the reins, led Happy inside the barn, and began brushing him. Grady joined him and Happy practically sighed in pleasure at the extra attention.
“It seems Miss Hobken set her affections elsewhere.” Grady felt Jason’s stare, as though he awaited more detail. He wasn’t going to elaborate about Ethel’s betrayal. Every thought of it made anger burn through him. As he’d milked Mrs. DeVille’s cow, gathered the eggs, fixed the hinge on the barn door, repaired the fence around the chicken coop, mucked the stalls, and chopped enough wood to last her a few days, he thought about Ethel and his feelings toward the woman.
Oddly enough, his heart felt relatively unscathed. If he’d been as in love with Ethel as he tried to convince himself, his heart should have been a broken, quivering mass of dejection. As it was, he mostly experienced a great sense of relief he hadn’t gotten around to proposing sooner, followed by irritation that Ethel had toyed with him and he’d let her.
Although it made him question his own changeable behavior, he couldn’t get Mrs. DeVille out of his thoughts. He shouldn’t be thinking of her at all, since her husband could very well be alive and well. If he was, Grady wanted to find the man and beat some sense into him. It was bad enough he’d disappeared, but he’d taken the horse and left his wife with no means or method of going anywhere. If she was alone, she could have walked to the closest town, but it would have been impossible with the two children to see to, particularly with tiny Gwennie. And then there was the responsibility of her livestock. She could have turned them loose, but a milk cow and laying chickens were a valuable commodity this far up the mountain.
“So, you came back rather than stay in town?” Jason asked.
“Yep.”
Jason appeared confused. “You are just right talkative this morning, ain’t ya?”
“Nope.” Grady grinned at him and led Happy into a stall. After making sure the horse was watered and fed, he picked up his saddlebags and stepped out of the barn. Sunlight glistened on the snow, making him squint his eyes against the brilliance “Any problems because of the storm?”
“No. Some of the boys were out with shovels and cleared the snow off the paths and buildings first thing this morning. We’ll be ready to get back to work Monday.”
“That’s good, Jason. Thank you.” Grady offered him a grateful look then strode toward his cabin that set about twenty yards behind the bunkhouse where the men stayed. As he walked, his gaze swept over the Lucky Larkspur Mine. In addition to the mine itself and the entrances to it, the buildings included a structure where explosives were stored, the big mill processing plant, the cookshack, an equipment and parts building, the assayer’s office, the main office, and a small store.
Thane didn’t approve of mine owners opening a store at their mines then bilking the miners out of their hard-earned wages with overpriced goods. The Lucky Larkspur store carried only the necessities a man might need such as clothing, basic toiletries, stationery supplies for writing letters to sweethearts, chewing gum, tobacco, and blankets. No alcohol was allowed at the mine, a rule Grady was more than happy to enforce. It meant his workers showed up sober each day and they had far fewer fights among employees than many other mines.
Thane’s wife insisted he create a library with
a shelf of books the men could borrow and return. Grady had read every title she’d donated at least twice. The book he’d stopped and purchased at Frank Miller’s Mercantile, along with the box of chocolates and ribbon for Ethel, was one he’d intended to read then contribute to the library. Although not all the men could read, those who did seemed to enjoy the availability of the books. In fact, he’d noticed Jason often read aloud so those who couldn’t read could still follow along with the story.
Now the book along with the ribbon and candy was in the possession of Mrs. DeVille. He felt awful about drinking the last of her coffee. From the way she’d carefully measured out the flour for pancakes, he assumed she’d used the last of it, too. Giving her those small tokens had eased his conscience slightly, but not enough he could stop thinking about doing more for her.
If anyone asked, he couldn’t have said why he felt so compelled to help her and her children. Other than he was utterly fascinated with Giavanna Angelina Esposito DeVille and her two young ones. Matty was bright and energetic while Gwennie made Gaffney think of a little fairy princess. The child, with her searching pale blue eyes and golden hair, appeared ethereal. He could almost hear the squeals of girlish joy if she and Lily Jordan ever got acquainted.
Since he’d spent most of the night awake thinking of a woman who went out in a storm to vent her frustrations so no one would hear or witness her torment, he needed a bit of rest. In his cabin, he draped his saddlebags over a peg in the wall, stoked the stove, toed off his boots, shucked out of his clothes and climbed beneath the heavy woolen blankets on his bed.
Only sleep refused to come. He kept picturing Mrs. DeVille with all that hair spilling down her back. It was the most unusual color he’d ever set his eyes on. He’d seen dark brown hair, of course, and blond, but he’d never seen them together on one person’s head before. He assumed those yellow strands were the reason little Gwennie had a froth of golden hair on her head. The child didn’t bear much resemblance to her mother, though. It was Matty who looked so much like her, including those honey-colored eyes.
As he tried to force himself to rest, Grady kept thinking of Mrs. Deville and tigers and soon the two became one in his mind.
Unable to control his thoughts, he sat up and forked his fingers through his hair. He needed to do something to keep his mind and hands busy.
He got up, dressed in work clothes, and headed for the cookshack. The cook grumbled at him about expecting special attention, but begrudgingly made him two sandwiches filled with thick slices of beef. Thane had brought up fresh beef and pork the previous week and the men had been enjoying it immensely.
How he wished he could take some of it to Mrs. DeVille. It was good she had milk and eggs, but she and the young ones needed something to eat besides watery vegetable soup.
If he wasn’t mistaken, the woman’s pride would keep her from accepting help outright. Unless the children were in danger or starving, he was sure she’d refuse any sort of assistance she viewed as charity.
As he ate his sandwiches and drank a cup of strong, black coffee, he considered the options. With a plan forming in his mind, he hurriedly finished his lunch, asked the cook to wrap up a loaf of bread and a dozen cookies, then headed toward the barn. He hated to take Happy back out after his horse had carried him down and back up the mountain without much rest. No one would haul the ore wagons anywhere today. The horses that pulled them were big but capable of being ridden.
Grady saddled a steady chestnut gelding named Custer for his yellow mane and led him outside the barn.
“Heading off again?” Jason asked as he walked up beside him.
Grady jumped slightly, caught off guard by the young man. He’d been lost in his thoughts of Mrs. DeVille and her children and failed to notice Jason’s approach.
He glowered at Jason as he headed toward his cabin. “I’m going hunting.”
“Hunting? What in the world for?” Jason gave him a confused look. “Mr. Jordan just had all that beef and pork brought up last week. We’ve got plenty of meat.”
Grady tied Custer’s reins around a post and went inside his cabin. Much to his annoyance, Jason trailed along behind him. “Are you feeling okay, boss?”
“I’m fine. I just want to go hunting,” Grady said as he gathered his rifle, ammunition, and filled his saddlebags with supplies, including a pair of dry socks and extra gloves. After looping a thick scarf around his neck, he settled his hat on his head and returned outside. “I’ll be back this evening. Keep an eye on the Brunson brothers. If I’m not mistaken, they’ve been making moonshine again. Oh, and can you take these to the assayer’s office?” Grady dropped the two rocks he’d taken from Matty’s box into Jason’s hand.
“Will do. Be careful out there. If you aren’t back by morning, shall we come searching for you?” Jason asked as Grady led the horse over to the cookshack.
“If I’m not back by noon tomorrow, you have my permission to hunt me down.”
Jason grinned. “Some of the boys might think that was fun.”
Grady shot him a narrowed glare then hurried inside the cookshack to retrieve the bread and cookies. The cook grumbled about it, but he handed Grady a second pack filled with more sandwiches, three apples, and half a dozen meat pies.
“Thanks, Sizzler.” Grady nodded at the cook. The grizzled little man was a foot shorter than Grady, but wiry and tough. No one messed with the camp cook or complained about the food. He ruled the cookshack like a tyrant and no one, not even Thane, dared cross him. If he wasn’t so good at his job, Grady was sure with his surly attitude he would have been tossed on his ear long ago. As it was, the only time the cook smiled was when Thane brought one of the children with him to the mine. He doted on Jack and Lily, fussing over them each time they visited. Too bad he didn’t extend a little of that graciousness to the miners.
At least they were well fed and the cookshack was kept clean and tidy.
Sizzler gave him a studying glance before returning to his preparations for supper.
Grady tucked the food into his saddlebags, swung onto the back of Custer, and rode out of the mining camp. In places, the snow was nearly up to Custer’s chest where it had drifted, and other spots it barely skiffed the ground.
He rode back to where he’d seen tracks not far from Mrs. DeVille’s cabin and followed them. Half an hour later, he swung off the horse and left him tied near the creek then quietly followed the tracks around a bend. Not twenty feet ahead, six deer drank from the creek. A big buck raised his head and looked around. Grady couldn’t shoot such a majestic-looking animal and set his sights on a smaller three-point buck. He took a deep breath, held it, then pulled the trigger.
The small buck dropped on the edge of the creek while the others scattered. Three pheasants shot up from the brush near Grady, startling him.
He released a whoosh of air then hurried over to the deer. He was never jumpy, infinitely aware of his surroundings. Yet, since he’d encountered Mrs. DeVille, he’d been as twitchy as a cat in a barrel full of hungry dogs.
It didn’t take him long to dress out the meat and be on his way to Mrs. DeVille’s home with the deer dragged behind him on evergreen boughs lashed together with a length of rope. He would have draped the deer across the back of the horse, but Custer wanted no part of the dead animal dangling over him.
“Contrary critter,” Grady groused at the horse as they rode through trees. In the distance, he could see a faint line of smoke and hoped it was Mrs. DeVille’s cabin. He’d tried to approximate where it would be located and was relieved when he rode into the small clearing and saw the cabin there, along with the barn and the open shed where her wagon was parked.
Although he hadn’t considered it previously, perhaps she’d allow him to bring horses over and take her into Baker City. Surely, she’d jump at the opportunity to head into town instead of being trapped alone on the mountain through the winter.
“Mrs. DeVille!” he called as he neared the cabin. “It’s Gaffney, Mrs. DeVil
le!”
The door opened and she stepped onto the small porch, shotgun cradled in her arms as she watched his approach.
“What are you doing here, Mr. Gaffney?” she asked, coming down the steps.
Thanks to his efforts this morning, the steps were clear of snow as was a path to the barn. He’d found a rope hanging on the barn wall and tied it from a porch post to an anchor nail he secured near the barn door. If another blizzard arrived, she could at least find her way to the barn to take care of the cow and chickens.
“I shot a deer, but we just got a load of fresh beef and pork at the mine and won’t use it. Do you think you could do something with it? I hate to see it go to waste,” he said, doing his best to sound innocent.
The woman pinned him with a harsh look, one that said she knew exactly what he was up to. He held his breath, waiting for her to refuse the meat. She seemed to be considering something before she slowly nodded her head.
“I can do something with it. Thank you.” She hurried up the steps with the gun, dashed inside the cabin, and returned with a large dishpan and two sharp knives.
“I can cut up the meat if you tell me where you want me to put it,” he said, swinging off Custer and leading the horse to the barn.
“I’ll help.” She set the knives and dishpan on a stump and disappeared inside the house again. When she came back out, she wore an old stained apron over her coat.
Grady tossed a rope over a nearby tree branch and tied up the deer then led Custer inside a small corral off the barn. After loosening the cinch on the saddle, he rolled back the sleeves on his coat and got to work.
It took them the rest of the afternoon to cut the meat. Grady showed Mrs. DeVille how to smoke some of it so she could preserve it. At least her husband had built a small springhouse near the creek. The rest of the meat would stay in there for a while since it was so cool, at least if no animals got into it.
When the woman asked him about preserving the hide for leather, he told her he knew someone who could take care of it and rolled it up to take back with him to the mine. One of the miners liked working with hide and would turn it into a supple piece of leather for a reasonable fee. Grady had no intention of allowing Mrs. DeVille to pay for it, though. Not when she was clearly struggling.
Gift of Hope Page 4