Love and Adventure Collection - Part 2

by Jennifer Blake

  When Superintendent Boston arrived, she served coffee she had made herself, then, perched on the edge of her chair in her mourning, she outlined what she wanted done. First, there would be an increase in wages to three-fifty per day. Following that, she meant to institute a form of old-age pension, with provisions for those disabled in mine accidents. Then, she wanted to set a minimum age for workers in her mines at sixteen; she wanted no child laborers, not even driving the burros and mules that pulled the ore cars. Speaking of the latter, she was convinced it was the greatest cruelty to keep them underground in the dark tunnels until they became blind. She understood that it was too much effort to haul them up and down the shafts, but surely it couldn’t cost any great amount to keep a lamp or two burning in their holding pens? After that, she wanted land set aside for a corral where the animals could be pastured and fed when they had outlived their usefulness, instead of being turned loose to scavenge as best they could, finally dying of starvation.

  The superintendent was a kindly man. He set out to tell her about a mule in one of the mines called Big Red who had been a favorite of the miners, picking up their bad habits like dipping snuff. He would come up to a man and hold out his lower lip, waiting to have it filled from a snuffbox. He preferred Garretts, but would take anything he could get.

  Even as Serena smiled at the tale, she had the feeling it was a smokescreen, something for the superintendent to say while he took time to think. At last, she put it to the test. “You haven’t said what you think of the new wages and benefits.”

  The man turned his hat in his hands, then reached up to scratch his head before he looked at Serena. “There’s no question it would all be gratefully received by the miners, Mrs. Benedict, or that the Century Lode could afford what you have set out to do. The problem is the other mine owners. They settled all this not too long back by going through a strike that nearly came to war. They fixed things up the way they wanted them, and got rid of a lot of radicals in the process. They’re not going to take kindly to your stirring everything up again.”

  “Even if it’s fair, even if they can afford it as well as I can?”

  “They say if you ever give an inch, the miners’ll take a mile. There’s something in that, too. If the worker demands ever get so high they interfere with a mine’s profits, well, there won’t be any use of a businessman laying out his capital to put a mine into production, will it? Not many men can swing the stake it takes to do that job alone. And then, it takes a lot of ore being brought out of a mine, better than a ton of hard rock from most, to get a hundred dollars in gold. If you have to pay too much to have it hauled out and smelted down, why, the amount a mine owner can make won’t be worth the worry and outlay. He’ll just have to close down. If that happens, where will the miners be? Out of a job, that’s where.”

  “I see that, but surely the miners wouldn’t push for so much? Surely they will have the sense to understand the consequences?”

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you, ma’am? But people are just not overly understanding of other people’s problems when it comes to money. They never wrote that fairy tale about killing the goose that laid the golden egg for nothing.”

  His allegory was too apt not to be recognized. Serena nodded, a smile in her blue-gray eyes. “Nevertheless, I don’t think I am being unreasonable. If the other mine owners don’t want to go along, that’s their choice. Not all the mines in the district have the same pay scale, do they?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “This is the middle of April. I think we can put the new guidelines into effect by the first of next month.”

  “If you’re sure that’s what you want. I wish you would talk to some of the other big men in Cripple Creek first. I sure wish you would do that.”

  “If I did,” Serena said softly, “they would try to dissuade me, and I see no reason why I should allow anyone to dictate my policies. The mine — and its proceeds — belongs to me, to do with as I see fit.”

  “As you say, ma’am.” The man’s voice was stiff, but he said no more.

  “There is one other problem: the hoist.”

  “I wasn’t going to mention it to you, Mrs. Benedict, things being as they are, but since you brought it up, I’m sure glad.”

  “I — I don’t suppose anyone else has tried to go down in it?”

  “No, ma’am!”

  “I see. What do you suggest be done about it, then?”

  “I don’t know, I really don’t. That’s just not my field. Young Patterson has been moping around the contraption, testing this and that, his face as long as a mule’s. He’s the man that might could tell you what went wrong, and what, if anything, can be done about setting it right.”

  “Could you have him come to see me?”

  “Certainly, I’ll be glad to do that. Later on, maybe you’d like to talk to the bookkeeper, take a gander at just where you are according to the figures?”

  “I’d like that, yes.”

  “Fine. I expect you’d rather he came here for the time being, but later on we’d be honored to have you visit us and poke around, maybe even go down the shaft. I know it’s not my place to be inviting you, you being the owner and all, but I want you to know you’ll be welcome.”

  Serena thanked him. The superintendent got up to leave. “By the way,” she said, her head tilted to one side. “Are you familiar with a mine in production around here owned by Ward Dunbar?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s a fine producer, the Eldorado II.”

  “As good as the Century Lode?”

  “Every bit. Rumors are they’ve taken better than a million out since last summer, and look to have another two, or even three, by the end of the year.”

  “How long has it been in operation?”

  “It was started — let’s see, must have been the fall of ‘94, but didn’t really get rolling until they found a good rich vein last August or September. Funny thing about that; Dunbar had given up on it and gone out looking for a better prospect when it came in. Stayed gone a long time, and came back to find himself and his backers all rolling in cash.”

  Serena, a little pale, nodded her comprehension, and then moved with him toward the front hallway.

  In the door, the superintendent paused. “There was quite a few thought Mr. Benedict was balmy, leaving you in control of the mine and everything, ma’am, meaning no disrespect. They said the whole operation would go to pot in a month. Now me, I don’t think so. I think everything’s going to be just fine, provided we can weather this wage and pension business. One thing sure. The two of us are going to get along like a house afire. I do admire a person, man or woman, who can make up their mind.”

  He took the hand she offered in a callused grip, clamped his hat on his head, and strode from the house. Looking after him, Serena shook her head and, smiling, closed the door.

  She did not have to see her own visitors from the house for long. True to his words, Ward found a new housekeeper. She arrived on the evening train two days after the departure of Mrs. Anson and Dorcas. With her was a familiar face, that of Mrs. O’Hare from the boardinghouse in Colorado Springs where Ward had taken her so many months before. The new housekeeper was Mrs. O’Hare’s sister from St. Louis. Recently widowed, Mrs. Egan was childless, with no way to support herself. She had been living on her older sister’s charity until Mr. Dunbar’s telegraph message reached them. It would be lovely to be earning her own way. She had never been a housekeeper before, except for her own dear departed husband, of course; still, she was sure she would soon fall into the way of it. The sight of that kitchen fairly made her itch to get started; running water, would wonders never cease? And all that lovely beef and the chickens already dressed, to say nothing of that beautiful slab of nice, cold marble for rolling pastry. What would Mrs. Benedict like for dinner? They really should have the chickens; it was so warm today they might spoil, even if they had been packed in snow.

  Mrs. O’Hare, having seen her sister hard at it, and enjoyed a
comfortable chat with Serena and a blatant, laughing flirtation with Ward, took the Midland back to the Springs. Before she left, however, she took Serena aside.

  “I’ve told my sister Maureen how things are between you and Ward.”

  “Did you? I wish you would tell me,” Serena said, the look in her eyes sparkling.

  “Go on with you! What I mean to say is, you needn’t fear any airs and scenes from her because the two of you aren’t married yet. She understands. Being a recent widow herself, she knows that some marriages were just not meant, but that a decent time has to be passed anyway, before setting out on the sea of matrimony again.”

  “Oh, but Mrs. O’Hare—”

  “Now, I will admit I had hard feelings toward you when you upped and married Nathan Benedict, instead of Ward, but that’s neither here nor there. I just want to say I’m glad you’ve come to your senses and decided to make Ward happy. The dear Lord knows, he deserves it.”

  “If by that you mean marriage, he hasn’t asked me, not since Nathan died.”

  “Give him time, child, give him time. No finer man ever lived. He’ll do the right thing by you, I know he will.”

  There was no point in arguing, no point in telling her what she suspected her fine man had done. It was best to smile and agree, and ignore the ache in the region of her heart.

  Three days later, Patterson, the engineer, put in an appearance at last. He seemed nervous and ill at ease. Serena received him in the study, where she had been going over some of Nathan’s papers. At Mrs. Egan’s suggestion that she serve the young gentleman tea, Serena nodded, then indicated a chair for her guest.

  They exchanged a few commonplaces about the unseasonably warm weather, the way the wind was drying everything out, then moved on to the continuing growth of the mining district and the price of gold. The last subject led to the production of the Century Lode and, naturally, to the hoist that was preventing operation.

  The engineer clasped his narrow hands between his knees, leaning forward in his chair with a frown. “There’s something I have to tell you about the hoist and cage, Mrs. Benedict. You may not like it, but you have to be told.”

  Serena felt the blood leave her face. Had this man discovered the mechanism had been tampered with, did he know who had done it, and why?

  He took a deep breath, glanced at her, then looked away again. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Benedict, but I have to tell you that I’m to blame for your husband’s death.”

  In the stillness they could hear the wind outside and Mrs. Egan singing to herself in the butler’s pantry as she set out the tea service.

  “You?” Serena whispered.

  The engineer gave a miserable nod. “I allowed Mr. Benedict to talk me into letting him go ahead with the installation of the hoist. I let myself be convinced that I could give instructions about the way it should be set up from my bed at the hotel. It was a mistake.”

  “You were ill, weren’t you?” Serena said. Her voice sounded strange. She jumped a little as she heard the front door open and shut, followed by footsteps on the stairs. That would be Ward, returning from town. He had not stayed at the Eldorado during the late afternoon and evening since he had come to Bristlecone, though he usually went into town every morning.

  “I was ill, under a doctor’s care, but that’s no excuse. I should have insisted on being there, insisted on seeing that everything was done properly. If I had, if I had seen to my job, nothing would have happened.”

  “Are you saying it was a — a mechanical problem, something you can definitely identify?”

  “That’s right.”

  He went into a detailed explanation that meant little, though it seemed to give him comfort to tell her. Serena listened with her hands clenched on the arms of her chair. When he had finished, she leaned toward him. “Are you positive that the hoist didn’t fall because someone — interfered with its working?”

  “Oh, no, Mrs. Benedict. That couldn’t have happened, not at all. I know because I got out of bed especially to be present for the final test. I was standing not six feet away from the controls when the accident took place.”

  The tears rose, shimmering in her eyes, spilling over her lashes to trace down her face. Bending her head made them run faster. Serena fumbled for her handkerchief.

  “Mrs. Benedict, I’m sorry,” the engineer said, horror in his voice. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Please?”

  She blew her nose, breathing deep against the sudden sense of release. “No, no, it’s all right. I — I don’t blame you, Mr. Patterson, not now, or for the accident. It seems the fault must have been my husband’s for being so impatient. You mustn’t punish yourself for what you could not help. I know how Mr. Benedict was when he — when he wanted something.”

  They had their tea. Over it, they both calmed enough for Patterson to venture an opinion on salvaging the hoist. It could be done. There was no doubt the machinery would work as it was intended once it was properly put together. The Century Lode would be the first to have this new and modern innovation, just as Nathan had planned.

  When the engineer had gone, Serena sat alone. So Ward was not guilty. None of the terrible things she had thought and accused him of were true. He had not deserted her for money, he was not battening on her because she was a wealthy and available widow, had not killed Nathan. How could she have been so wrong? Had she wanted to think the worst? Was that it? Had she used her false judgment of him as a shield, to prevent herself from being hurt by the way he had treated her? The evidence had been there, or so she had thought. To have all her theories disproved gave her an odd, bereft feeling. She did not know what to think, or what she would say to Ward when she saw him.

  In the event, she said little that mattered. She ascended the stairs with slow footsteps. Ward was not in his room, nor was he in hers. The door of the nursery stood open, and Serena turned in that direction.

  Inside the room, she stopped. Ward stood in the evening dimness with his hands braced on the foot of the baby’s cradle. He stared down at the cooing, smiling child with softness limning his features, though there was a shadow in the deep green of his eyes. He turned his head, as he became aware of her presence. Straightening, he reached to lay the tips of his fingers along Sean’s rounded cheek, and pull the long dress down over his kicking feet. Ward was still an instant, then he turned away, moving toward Serena. As Sean began to cry, Mary materialized out of the shadows to pick him up, holding him close against her.

  “Does she think I would harm my own child?” Ward asked, running a hand over his hair in a gesture of weariness.

  “If Mary thought so, she wouldn’t have stood back out of the way. She doesn’t know you very well, and so she’s protective.”

  “She won’t have to worry about it anymore. I’m leaving.”

  Serena stopped in the middle of the hall. “You’re what?”

  “Coming here was the wrong thing to do; I should have known better. Instead of protecting you, I just gave the gossips, and your demented elder, something more to talk about.”

  “Is that — the only reason?” Serena had to force the words to her lips. She had not been particularly welcoming, quite the opposite.

  “No, it isn’t. There are all sorts of rumors floating around town about the changes you have made at the Century Lode. It’s the general feeling of the mine owners that either you are being unduly influenced by me, since the reforms you are instituting are substantially the same as those I’ve established at my own mine, or else you are just playing at being a mine owner and there’s no need to take anything you do seriously.”

  “Are the things I’ve done similar to yours? I didn’t know.”

  “I’m aware of that, since you didn’t see fit to discuss it with me.”

  “I didn’t know you would be interested.”

  He shook his head. “It would be more accurate to say you were afraid I would take over, wouldn’t it? But never mind. You didn’t discuss it with the other mine owners either, conduc
t they consider irresponsible, but to be expected from a woman who takes a man into her bed so soon after her husband’s death.”

  Serena sent him a cold look. “I had no choice.”

  “They don’t know that. I assume they will take notice if you throw me out.”

  “It makes no difference to me what they think,” Serena snapped.

  “Maybe not now, but it will when Sean gets older, when he starts school and begins to join the other sons of the rich.”

  “That will be a long time yet. Just now, I don’t care. It may not suit me to throw you out; it may not suit me at all!”

  He stared at her, the flecks of gold in his eyes shining bright. For an instant she thought he would reach for her, drag her close into his arms. She swayed toward him.

  Abruptly the light in his face was quenched. “In this case, as in the other,” he said, his voice rough, “you have no choice.” He swung and walked away from her.

  “Ward,” she cried.

  The only answer was the sound of his footsteps on the stairs, and the closing of the door.

  23

  He was gone. It was incredible how empty the house had become. It seemed Ward Dunbar had made his impression on Bristlecone just as quickly and completely as he had upon her heart. Why had he left so abruptly? The question revolved in her head for two days, along with the excuses he had given. What it all came to was, he had left for the sake of her reputation. If that was so, if that was the real reason, there was an easy cure. He could have married her. No such offer had been forthcoming. Apparently he did not care enough for that, not now. She had lost the chance to become something more than his bedmate.