Mona Hodgson

by Too Rich for a Bride

  Distracting …

  Ida watched her brother-in-law’s fingers fly across the piano keyboard while she joined the others in one of Miss Hattie’s favorite pastimes—a hymn sing. After supper, she’d followed the crowd into the parlor. Her landlady’s phonograph usually provided background music, but not when Morgan Cutshaw was around to play the square grand piano she was storing for him until the couple’s home was finished.

  “ ‘This is my story, this is my song, praising my Savior all the day long.’ ”

  Kat’s alto voice rang out from her position on the bench beside her husband. Nell sang soprano while Judson stood next to her on one side of the piano, singing tenor. Opposite them, Faith stood beside Tucker Raines while Ida and Hattie framed the Cutshaws. The harmony of voices sent chill bumps up and down Ida’s arms, but it was the rich timbre of Tucker Raines’s baritone that warmed her heart.

  Called away from his sick sister and his life as a preacher to deliver ice and build up a neglected business, the ice man had quite the story to tell. He hadn’t told her what ailed Willow, but given the man’s rejoicing at the post office over even a slight improvement, it had to have been something serious.

  Still, he sang praises to his God. An extraordinary man.

  All the more reason for Ida to concentrate on the keyboard and Morgan’s nimble fingers. She couldn’t avoid the warmth of Tucker’s voice, but she could and would avoid the tenderness she saw in his eyes—for her sake and for Faith’s.

  The schoolteacher had managed to sit beside Tucker at supper and stand with him at the piano, and she hadn’t been nearly as diligent as Ida at controlling her impulse to stare at him. Positively googly-eyed, that girl.

  “ ‘Praising my Savior all the day long.’ ”

  The last note still hung in the air in Judson’s deep bass when Hattie began clapping. “A piece of heaven.” She looked at each one of her seven guests. “My family gathered ’round in sweet song.”

  “I agree, Miss Hattie.” Tucker’s voice drew Ida’s gaze upward, to his Adam’s apple and his strong jaw. “Good food. Good company. Good music.” He stepped around the piano and kissed the older woman on the cheek. “Thank you for including me.”

  “Anytime, dear.” Miss Hattie patted his arm like a mother would. “You’re part of our family and welcome here anytime.”

  Tucker stepped back. “I best make my way home. Titan and Trojan are no doubt convinced by now that I’ve abandoned them.”

  Faith followed him to the parlor door. “Mr. Raines,” she whispered.

  He stopped and looked at her, his brows raised.

  “Might I have a word with you before you leave?” She approached him with slow steps.

  Tucker glanced up at the rest of them, then nodded. “Of course.” He held his arm out to her and Faith laid a thin hand on his shirt sleeve. “We can talk on our way to the door.”

  They left the room, Faith speaking to him in hushed tones while her calico skirt swayed side to side, and jealousy surged through Ida.

  She turned back toward the quiet piano keys. She obviously needed to rein in her interest in Tucker to better align it with the notion of friendship.

  Thankfully, her upcoming social engagement with the charismatic Mr. Wagner was just what she needed to help her in that regard.

  TWENTY-ONE

  da scrutinized the clothes hanging in her wardrobe. She started with the blue chemise gown she planned to wear to the Butte Opera House Saturday night for her outing with the charming Mr. Colin Wagner. And Mollie and Mr. Miller, of course.

  That was still two days away. Tomorrow was Friday, and she needed to pay special attention to what she wore to work. An outfit for participating at the stock exchange required a careful mix of femininity and business attire.

  Earlier in the week, she’d worn her green serge dress to the Exchange, and her gray floral skirt late last week. For now, she only had five or six others to choose from.

  She’d just pulled her black wool skirt off the clothes bar when she heard a timid knock on her bedchamber door. Definitely Faith. Miss Hattie’s knocks sounded more like a hammer pounding the head of a stubborn nail.

  “Come in.”

  The door clicked open. Faith took two short steps forward before pausing in the doorway. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

  “Don’t be silly. We’re neighbors, and you’re not a bother. Maybe you can assist me.”

  Faith stepped inside, then closed the door behind her. “I’d be happy to try, but I’m not sure how much help I’ll be.”

  She reminded Ida of a skittish bird sitting on a brittle branch in a windstorm. Even when she’d summoned the courage to follow Tucker Raines to Hattie’s door last Sunday.

  “It’s my outfit for work tomorrow. Which one do you think I should wear?”

  Faith looked past her at the open wardrobe, her eyes wide.

  Ida suddenly felt embarrassed by her comparative affluence. She’d only seen the schoolteacher wear two different skirts and one housedress. “I didn’t … wasn’t showing off. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Now who’s being silly?” Faith’s monotone punctuated her sagging shoulders.

  Ida liked the schoolteacher, but she and Faith didn’t have much, if anything, in common. Other than their curiosity about Mr. Tucker Raines, though Ida suspected the girl’s interest in the ice man ran deeper than mere curiosity.

  She couldn’t help noticing the way Faith had looked at him in church and again at supper while he told a story about his travels as an itinerate preacher. Doe-eyed. As soon as Miss Hattie had announced Tucker would sit opposite her at the table, Faith claimed a chair beside him. Then there was that hushed conversation in the entryway. It seemed Tucker enjoyed the schoolteacher’s attentions.

  Good.

  Was that why Faith had come to her room, to talk about her feelings for the ice man?

  Not quite ready for such a conversation, Ida held up the black wool skirt. “Which dress do you think I should wear tomorrow for my visit to the stock exchange?” She pulled a pale blue broadcloth shirtwaist off a hook and paired it with the skirt. “This one?” She returned the outfit to the wardrobe and pulled out a plum-colored linsey-woolsey two-piece. “Or this one?”

  “I like the plum dress for a Friday.”

  “The plum one it is. Thank you.”

  A tentative smile quirked Faith’s mouth on one side. “You’re welcome.”

  Ida returned the clothes to the wardrobe, wondering why Faith had chosen plum specifically for a Friday but even more curious about the girl’s reason for wanting to talk to her. Faith didn’t even have money enough for a new dress, so stock investment was out of the question. And the business world was far removed from the school yard. They had nothing in common there. That left Mr. Raines and matters of the heart.

  Faith’s fingers worried the sleeve of her pink floral housedress. “I like your flair for fashion.”

  “Thank you, but I have to give my sister Vivian credit for much of it. She designed the blue shirtwaist and the plum outfit.” Once Ida began making some serious profit from stock dividends and her commissions with Mollie, she’d show them all what real fashion looked like on a Sinclair sister.

  “Your sister has good taste, and so do you.” If the strength of the teacher’s voice was any indication of the strength in her knees, Ida had cause for concern.

  She closed the door on the wardrobe and turned the chair in front of her dressing table to face the bed. “Would you like to sit down?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Ida sat on the edge of the bed. As nervous as the girl was, a man had to be the subject on her heart. When Faith didn’t show any outward signs of beginning the conversation, Ida drew in a deep breath and took the lead. “Faith, if you’re worried about what I think of you and Mr. Raines growing … uh, closer, don’t be.”

  The younger woman’s eyes widened while her cheeks out-pinked her dress. She popped up from the chair. “That’s not what I want to
talk to you about.”

  “Oh?”

  Faith paced from the dressing table to the wardrobe and back. “It’s a school matter.”

  “I see.” It was a common expression, but why did people say they saw when they didn’t see anything at all? Ida certainly couldn’t see why the teacher would come to her with such a matter.

  Faith sat back down and clasped her hands in her lap. “I have a student who is having difficulty with multiplication.”

  The teacher’s intentions were still no clearer than the mud in Colorado’s potholes. “You have a business mind,” Faith continued. “I’ve heard you talk at the meal table and during our tea times with Miss Hattie. I hoped you could help him.”

  Ida moistened her lips. “I’m not a teacher, and I don’t—”

  “I need you to help him.” Tears pooled in Faith’s blue eyes, and one spilled down her cheek.

  “I keep plenty busy with my work and my sis—”

  “The banker is on the school board. Eugene Updike.”

  Ida blinked. On her first visit to the stock exchange, she had engaged Mr. Updike in a hissing match that ended with him welcoming her to the “snake pit.” Ever since, she’d gone out of her way to avoid him.

  “He voted against hiring me but lost to the majority.” Faith brushed the tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to cry.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve been known to shed a few tears myself. But I don’t see what—”

  “My student, he’s the banker’s son.”

  Ida groaned. Now she was beginning to see.

  “If I can’t teach him to calculate multiplication problems, I might lose my job. I need this job, Miss Sinclair.”

  Something else they had in common—they both had jobs they wanted to keep. “And you think I can help?”

  Faith’s staccato nod bounced the dark curls on either side of her aqua eyes. “You could tutor Delos Updike. You could help him learn his multiplication tables. You could help me keep my job.”

  At seventeen, Faith was the same age as Vivian. And if Vivian were in trouble, Ida would want someone to help her. The big-sister blood running through her veins boiled. She had to help Faith stand against the bully banker and hold on to her job.

  Ida pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and rose from the edge of the bed. “You’re very persuasive.”

  “I am?”

  Nodding, Ida handed the linen kerchief to Faith. “I’ll tutor him Saturday mornings at ten o’clock for one hour. Eight Saturdays would put us in the middle of December.”

  Faith blotted the tears from her face, and a smile chased the cloudy hue from her blue eyes.

  Ida returned the teacher’s smile. “Delos should well be able to calculate by then.”

  “That’ll be wonderful. Thank you.”

  Big sisters are such an easy mark. At least I am.

  But it felt good to help this girl. And she’d much rather tutor Eugene Updike’s son than hear Faith talk about her romantic feelings for Tucker.

  TWENTY-TWO

  riday morning, Tucker stopped by Charles Miller’s office on the way to the depot. Two secretaries worked feverishly at their desks. A stack of certificates occupied the older woman on the left, while the girl on the right was on the phone, placing an ad in the newspaper.

  The woman with graying hair waved him back to Mr. Miller’s private office. Charles Miller couldn’t be any taller than five foot nine, but he was a big man in Cripple Creek business, and well respected. Tucker had received mixed reviews about some of the other men who dealt in the stock exchange.

  “I have something for you.” The trim broker unlocked a cabinet behind his desk and pulled an envelope out of a folder.

  Tucker’s pulse jolted at the thought of stocks in his father’s ice company having sold. He might actually have capital for growing the business.

  “This is the first bank draft. I have several more investors looking at the company, waiting to see what you do with this first influx of cash.” The broker smoothed his hand over his thin mustache, holding Tucker’s gaze as he held out the envelope. “Spend it wisely and diligently stick to your business plan. Remember, your prospectus is what these people are betting on.”

  Mr. Miller’s counsel hung in the air in sharp contrast to Colin Wagner’s. “What a person does is directed by his own conscience.”

  Tucker nodded and opened the envelope. After seeing the number written on the check, he glanced up at Miller. “Have you taken out your fee?”

  “I have indeed.” Miller smiled, revealing perfectly straight teeth. “More there than you expected?”

  “Considerably.” Tucker slid the envelope into his coat pocket. “This should be enough to buy another wagon and team and land for the icehouse. And I’d like to have the icehouse built by the time winter hits if more money comes in before then.”

  “Sounds like a good plan. I’m glad you were pleasantly surprised.” Miller tugged his vest straight. “We aim to please our folks on both sides of the quote board.”

  “I’m pleased.”

  “Check back with me in two weeks. I hope to have another draft for you by then.”

  “I will. Thank you.” Tucker waved and stepped outside just as the train’s shrill whistle echoed through town.

  The wind sweeping down from the snowcapped peaks caught his hat. He tugged it tight on his forehead and buttoned his canvas coat. Otis had the wagon that morning, so Tucker walked toward the bank.

  From the looks of the clouds gathering and the chill on the wind, he guessed they’d have at least a dusting of snow in the valley before nightfall. But Tucker wasn’t worried about the weather hindering his construction plans. Once he and Otis had dug down about six feet and formed the rock lining, there wouldn’t much more to do to build the icehouse. They’d have the simple structure finished before the heavy snows came.

  God was making a way for him in the wilderness, as He had for Morgan Cutshaw. At supper on Sunday, the doctor had shared how he’d lost his first wife and son in childbirth. How God had given him a second chance with Kat and the child they were expecting. God was doing the same for Tucker. His father still seemed to be in remission. His mother didn’t appear to miss her house much and enjoyed spending time with her sister. Willow showed signs of coming out from behind the shadow of sorrow. Both the sanitorium and the asylum had agreed to a sixty-day stay on the bills. God was doing a new thing for him as well.

  “Thank You, Lord.” Tucker looked around, expecting—maybe even hoping—to see Ida Sinclair watching him as she’d done the last two times he’d prayed aloud on the street. But she wasn’t one of the people walking the boardwalk on either side of him, and he continued toward the bank.

  After depositing his investment money and a quick stop to see the land agent, Tucker headed to the loading dock at the depot. Otis already had the wagon backed up to the ice car.

  “Happy Friday, Otis.”

  His bear of a friend looked at him from around the back of the wagon. “Well, if you don’t look like a mountain lion that done swallowed a marmot.”

  “Sold some stocks.”

  Anticipation made Otis’s dark eyes shine like a handful of diamonds. “Thank the Lord.”

  “Indeed. And we have an icehouse to build.” Tucker pointed to the four acres of property behind him. “That creekside piece of property now belongs to the Raines Ice Company.”

  Otis’s smile, though still lopsided, enjoyed the full width of his face. “I just know God is blessing you for your faithfulness in the trials.”

  “Manna in the wilderness?” Tucker removed his hat and held it out to the sky, as if to catch falling bread.

  “Yes sir, everything we need.”

  Tucker nodded. “The next draft should buy us enough lumber to finish up the icehouse and add more stalls to the barn. In the meantime, I have your pay for you.” He pulled an envelope of cash from his coat pocket and handed the package to his partner.

  “Thank you. I wouldn
’t take this just now, except—” Otis counted the bills and shoved them and the envelope back at Tucker. “It’s too much.”

  Tucker raised both hands, refusing to accept the return. “Just a small bonus for your faithfulness to my father. And to me. I know you agreed to work for a set pay, but you’ve been more than just a hired hand to us.”

  “Thank you.” Otis stuffed the offering inside his shirt. “You think when we’re done loadin’ we could stop outside the Exchange? Boney’s been spendin’ most of his mornings there lately. Said he’d buy me some stock when I was ready.”

  “We can do that.”

  Tucker smiled. Neither Otis nor Boney fit any mold he had ever seen. As a matter of fact, this town was unlike any he’d ever been to, with few people fitting into established patterns. Laborers buying stocks, women running businesses …

  And a preacher selling ice.

  TWENTY-THREE

  ou’ve gone beyond an hour, Miss Sinclair.” Faith spoke from her desk, where she’d been working through a stack of slates. Ida set her chalk in the tray and glanced up at the clock on the back wall of the classroom. Five minutes past eleven. She looked down at Delos Updike, who stood beside her at the board. “You’ve done a fine job today.”

  “I think you’re helping me.” His smile showcased the freckles that bridged his nose. “Thank you, Miss Sinclair.”

  The Updike boy wasn’t at all what she’d expected. Unlike his father, he had manners and a sweet disposition.

  “You’re welcome, Delos. You’re a hard worker, and I think you’ll do fine.” Ida retrieved her mantle from a corner desk. “Remember what I told you.”

  “Yes ma’am. It doesn’t matter which number is first, the answer will be the same.”

  “Very good. I’ll see you next Saturday morning then.”

  He nodded, and his red hair waved like grass in the wind. At the door, he turned to his teacher. “Good-bye, Miss Dunsmuir.”

  “Good day, Delos. I’ll see you Monday.”