He’s so somber and serious. She met his intense gaze and felt her pulse kick faster. To distract herself, she glanced at the uneven lengths of the hair sticking out from his hat. He didn’t have much finesse at doing haircuts.
“I do apologize for my outburst my first night here.” Glancing at the ground, he huffed out a breath. When he looked up again, he shook his head. “Accepting the truth about my injury is difficult, but I have to face what can’t be changed.”
From the rough tone of his voice, she guessed he didn’t apologize often. This admission must have been especially hard, and her heart went out to him. She stepped around the horse until she stood on the same side. “I should offer one, too. Apology, I mean. Sometimes I get an idea and just keep going like a runaway train. I don’t even give a second thought that someone else might not agree.”
The horse bumped her shoulder and nuzzled the back of her hand.
“Oh.” She jumped back and pulled away her arm.
Valerik frowned and grasped the bridle. “Levka didn’t bite you, did he?”
“No.” She reached under the horse’s chin and scratched. “Just surprised me. And the whiskers tickled.”
“He’s checking for a treat.”
“Levka. Is that a Russian name?”
“Da, it means lion.” Valerik stroked a hand along the animal’s glossy neck. “On the day he was born, he squared off against those of us inside the corral. Like he protected his mother. That’s bravery.”
She bet he didn’t realize he’d answered using a foreign word. The longer they chatted, the more relaxed his features became. Without the beard, his expressions were easier to read. She had the impression he’d spent the long winter in seclusion and now struggled with relearning how to be around people again. “Well, I should—”
“I have a—”
She laughed at their words talking over each other’s. “Sorry.”
“Go ahead.” He waved a hand for her to go first.
“I started to say that I have an errand that needs completing.” She dipped her head then looked up. “Your turn.”
“Would the errand be anywhere near my brother’s vats?”
At the possibility of extending their time together, she couldn’t hold back a smile. “Actually, the location is very close.”
“Good.” He grinned, exposing a dimple near the left side of his mouth.
Her chest constricted. Valerik Andrusha was a good-looking man who made her toes curl when he smiled. Oh, to have a man look at her with such smiles every day.
“Do you ride?”
“Excuse me?” She blinked at the sudden change of topic.
“If you ride Nesha, then both of my horses can get exercise this morning.”
She straightened and pointed at her chest. “I was raised on a farm for the first seventeen years of my life. I can drive a wagon, herd cattle, milk cows, sow wheat, stack ricks, harvest corn—”
“Whoa, Dorrie.” Valerik held up both hands. “Only needed to know about riding horses.”
Heat invaded her cheeks, and she ducked her chin. “Sorry.”
“Will you be wearing that skirt?” His gaze ran up and down her body.
Although she knew his look was meant only to question the appropriateness of her full skirt, she couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down her spine. “I’ll change into a riding skirt and return in a few minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
I like how that sounds. On her hurried walk to the showman’s wagon parked next to Cinnia’s shop, she pinched her lips tight. Nicolai’s brother was playing havoc with her feelings, but she didn’t think he meant to. She was the one who usually had a quick answer and, if she believed Nola’s assertions, a flirty look for any eligible bachelor around.
At that assumption, she blew out a pfft sound and dug through the cupboards until she found what she needed. A dull brown split skirt that was one of the last articles of clothing she’d brought from the farm. Once she joined the vaudeville circuit, she’d kept the skirt to wear on days her other clothes were being laundered. From the back of the bottom drawer, she pulled out her riding boots. The tips were scuffed, the soles gouged, and oil needed to be worked into the uppers, but the mid-calf boots would be better for riding than her everyday ones.
She glanced in the mirror on the inside of a cupboard door. The waist was a bit snug, but otherwise, the outfit looked fine. On a hook at the back of the cupboard hung a broad-brimmed felt hat. Not very stylish, but it would keep the direct sun off her fair skin. Heavens knew she didn’t need any more freckles. At the last minute, she tossed off the crocheted shawl and dropped it on the settee.
She climbed down the metal steps, and then walked across the grassy ground to where Valerik waited with the saddled horses. Slowing as she drew near, she held out her hand and let the mare get used to her scent. “Aren’t you a pretty lady? Such a lovely white coat.” She rubbed a hand along the horse’s nose. “Her name is Nesha? Did I hear that right?”
“Da, it means pure. She’s real gentle.” He handed her the reins then stepped back. “Do you need a hand up?”
“Nope.” She grabbed hold of the saddle horn, set her left boot in the stirrup, and hoisted her right leg over Nesha’s back.
Valerik stepped close and inspected her foot in the stirrup on one side then walked around to check the other. “You and Cinnia must be similar in height. How does the length feel?”
“Fine. But we’re not going far.”
“No matter.” He settled his dark leather hat tighter on his head. “The stirrup should be fitted right so the ride is enjoyable.” He gathered the reins and set his left foot in the stirrup, hopping to put weight on it, and then lowering that foot to the ground. After repositioning the boot, he pulled heavily on the saddle horn before levering himself into the saddle.
Because she couldn’t stop gazing at Valerik’s changed appearance, she spotted his grimace when he leaned on his left foot in the stirrup. By the time he was settled, she’d turned her head and gazed at the path they’d ride. “I’m not sure how you’ll take this…But you did a horrible job on your haircut.”
A hand lifted to smooth the hair over his ears. “True. Nicolai’s shears are meant for leather.”
She shifted so she could see his face, hoping she wouldn’t shock him. “I used to cut my younger brothers’ hair and could even the sides a bit.”
For a second, his eyes widened then he cleared his throat. “I might take you up on that offer.” He flicked a straight finger in both directions in front of his chest. “Which way?”
“This is the road that leads to Michael Morgan’s gold mine.” A squeeze of her calves and a cluck with her tongue got Nesha started. From behind came the clomp-clomps of Valerik’s horse.
“Right, and the town is named after him.”
“More like that’s the name because the man owns the whole town.” She turned toward her left, to where Valerik rode. “Your brother built those two shops, but he leases the land from Michael. Just like everyone else who lives in a building in the town proper.” She waved a hand toward the two-story gray house. “The Morgans live there in the finest house in town.”
“Huh.”
On the ride up the rise, they passed a cabin situated on the south side of the road. “That’s the Thorpe place. Big John is the town blacksmith, and he has a shop up at the mine. He contracted for a mail-order bride and brought his wife Lena, who is from Louisiana, here last month. As will become evident when you move around the town, men outnumber women by at least fifteen or twenty to one.” Morning sunlight warmed the back of her shirtwaist, and she gazed over the prairie at the colorful palette of emerging wildflowers. If her request to rent the hall was granted, she’d need to allow time to collect some purple hyacinth, yellow buttercups, and white wild licorice. Maybe the paintbrush would have bloomed.
“Mail-order? Don’t tell me that’s how Nicolai got hitched.” Valerik’s brows wrinkled over the bridge of his nose.
“No, but their story is a good one anyway. I think I told you I performed with a vaudeville troupe.” How many other details did I give? As she recalled their shared meal, she remembered being excited about the idea of putting on a dance and hadn’t really mentioned the troupe.
He nodded but remained silent.
“The troupe of eleven performers arrived in the fall of last year. The timing was late to be this far west, but our promoter H.P. Thomas booked us here for a week.” She tilted her head to the side. “I like to think he didn’t know how small the town really was. But, as Nola said—”
“Nola?” He guided Levka around a hole in the path then steered back to the center.
“Cinnia’s older sister and my other best friend.”
“Will I meet her soon?”
Dorrie heaved a sigh and slumped in the saddle, fighting against a wave of sadness. “No. She married a rancher who was passing through Morgan’s Crossing and lives on his family’s ranch about a hundred miles or so north of here.”
“Ah.”
She straightened. “Anyway, Nola said Mr. Thomas took advantage of the place being a mining town and on the frontier, knowing the men would be looking for wives. Do you know that he actually sold hours of the single ladies’ time to meet with any man willing to pay the fee? And without asking any of us if we agreed or not.” Anger fueled her tone to a high pitch. She transferred the reins to her right hand and flexed her left. After a couple of deep breaths, she thought she could continue without shrieking. “Then the lily-livered cad skipped out under the cover of darkness with his two horses and left the troupe on its own.”
“Doesn’t sound like a nice man.”
“For four years prior to that incident, he had my good opinion. He was a competent manager, and most of the performers didn’t complain.” She glanced sideways and scrunched her nose. “Well, a couple always complained, but the rest of us quit listening a long time ago.”
He nodded. “What act did you perform?”
Before she could stop herself, she flipped a tendril of hair over her shoulder and lifted her chin. “I’m an acrobat and assistant dog trainer.” Suddenly, those skills didn’t sound as important as she thought they should. At least, not to a man who seemed like he’d experienced more of the world than she had. “Plus, I filled in with the dance master when his sister, uh, I mean his wife was ill.”
“You confused a sister with a wife?” Twisting toward her, he leaned his forearm on the saddle horn as the horses climbed the rise.
“That’s not what happened.” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows, enjoying the role of relating the scandal that had played out. “For two years, they pretended they were sister and brother. Married couples don’t often get hired as performers in my line of work.” She raised a hand and shook her head. “I don’t know why, but Mr. Thomas was very clear about that rule. So after he left, the troupe argued about what to do and where to go.”
Straightening, she glanced his way and cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I forgot to tell you that the coward took all the money when he left. We staged two more performances, but Nola is better skilled as a dog trainer than as a promoter.” Guilt stabbed her at the disloyal statement. Even if Nola admitted the fact herself. “The production got shut down when the miners demanded their appointments with the ladies. Following that, the rest of the performers headed to Denver, where they hoped to get hired in a theater for the winter.”
An insect buzzed close by.
Lifting her hand in a wave, she brushed it away. “Meanwhile, Cinnia had secretly made arrangements to rent the empty shop next to Nicolai’s and open the dressmaker’s business, which set off Nola, who wanted to take the dog act to Sweetwater Springs. When Torin, who had a sprained wrist, needed help driving his herd of mustangs north, Nola agreed to a marriage of convenience in order to earn enough money for a train ticket. For years, Nola’s biggest wish has been to perform in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West.” Suddenly realizing she was doing all the talking, she turned and met his gaze. “Am I boring you?”
“No. I’m enjoying the story.”
With a nod, she faced forward. The rumble of the stamp mill informed her they were almost to the mine. “Well, spending all that time together on the trail drive changed Torin and Nola’s temporary marriage into a real one. Now she’s expecting their first child in a couple of months. And I already told you about your brother and Cinnia.” That traitorous niggle of envy at the happiness her friends now enjoyed threatened to rise. But she fought to tamp it down.
Part of her reason for staying in Morgan’s Crossing had been because of the attentions of a big handsome Scandinavian miner named Janus Swenson. Unfortunately, he abandoned his job and the town at the first sign of winter. Another reason to stay put was not wanting to be separated from her friends, the York sisters, who had been her surrogate family since joining The H.P. Thomas Traveling Entertainment Company four years ago.
“What was my new sister-in-law’s act?”
“She performed dramatic interpretations of poems, and she created the costumes for all the performers. Oh, the pretty words she spoke and the gestures she did really accented the story.” At the memory, she nestled clasped hands against her chest. “Everyone would be spellbound while the poem unfolded and right to the very end.”
“To think I’m related to this enchantress.”
What? Her breath caught in her throat. She shot him a look and spotted the corner of his mouth twitching. “Are you joshing me?”
He lifted a shoulder and smiled. “Perhaps a little.”
Smoke from Big John’s forge rose black in the air. They crested the rise. The stovepipe of the weather-beaten mine office came into view. Past that building were the barracks where the guards lived. “There’s my destination. I need to speak with Michael for a few minutes.”
“Shall I wait?” Valerik straightened and glanced around.
At the mine entrance stood a tall man with a round face under a dark hat. In his arms, he cradled a rifle against his barrel chest.
Sometimes, as she went about her business in town, she forgot about the valuable ore that was being dug here from deep in the earth every day. Dorrie waved. “Good morning, Milton.”
The guard lifted his hat in salute.
“Neither of us knows how long we’ll be, so don’t wait. The vats are down a ways along that path between those big oaks.” She pointed, dismounted, and then walked around the front of Nesha to look up at Valerik. “His spring box is in the creek straight down the bank from the vats.”
“Should be only ten minutes or so. But I have confidence you can get Nesha settled in the stable when you’re finished.” Flashing a quick smile, he touched a finger to the brim of his hat, and then urged his gelding toward the trees.
His teasing tone sped her pulse. Turning toward the office, she led Nesha close to the hitching rail and tied off the reins. Unable to resist, she lifted her gaze to watch his broad back disappear into the dappled shadows. The mystery continued. Next time they met, she vowed she’d be the one who listened while he revealed a few personal facts.
*
As soon as he figured he was in complete shadow, Valerik steered Levka through the trees and cut a sideways path along the downhill incline. When he could see both Nesha and the front door of the office, he stopped and loosened the reins. The sight of the armed guard raised his defensive hackles. Locating the vats paled in comparison to making sure Dorrie was safely on her ride away from the mine.
Although he’d never worked as a mine guard, he’d ridden shotgun for a stagecoach line for a brief three-month stint. After surviving a robbery attempt and getting the stage and its passengers to the next stop with only a shoulder injury to the driver, he’d quit. Valerik had been raised to fight to the death to protect what was his. But that incident taught him that no one could pay him enough to defend what didn’t belong to him.
Closing his eyes, he focused on the woods and the creatures within. The earthy scent of dam
p dirt slowly warming under the sun’s heat. The scurry of a squirrel over a branch above him. A meadowlark’s flute-like call interspersed with the coo-coo of a mourning dove. Each sound was evidence of life continuing. Centered in his chest, his connection to the living world grew, edging back the despair that had consumed him for so long.
As if from a great distance, the sound of Dorrie’s cheery “goodbye” reached his ears. He opened his eyes, squinting at the sudden brightness. Only when she disappeared around the bend in the path did he tighten the reins and move back in the direction she indicated.
Ten minutes later, he’d located the vats, giving the hides and tanning solution a few stirs, and spotted the spring box in the swift-moving creek. The slope made him pause about inspecting it. He didn’t want to put his foot to the stress of climbing down there until he had something that needed chilling.
On his walk back to where he’d tied Levka, he caught a glint of sunlight on metal and discovered a trunk not far from the vats. Inside, he found small-game traps and a fishing pole that must belong to Nicolai. The idea of either rabbit or trout for supper set his mouth watering. Without the proper bait for the trap, he settled for digging the tip of his knife into the soft dirt for earthworms. Late morning wasn’t his favorite for fishing, but before too long, he slipped a string of a half-dozen bronzeback bass, the biggest weighing about three pounds, into a saddlebag.
The pole went back in the trunk, and he headed off the hill, cutting west across the prairie away from town. On the flat ground, he gave Levka his head so he could work out the kinks in his legs with a long gallop. Finally, the throbbing in his left foot couldn’t be ignored. He eased back on the reins and patted a hand on the gelding’s damp shoulder. “Slow down, boy. Let’s catch our breath.”
Turning the horse in a wide circle, Valerik scanned the horizon above the green prairie grass waving in the breeze. A dark smudge marred the crystal blue sky. That must be the blacksmith’s fire that marked the town’s outskirts. He gazed around to put certain landmarks to memory, knowing he’d be making daily rides of the area. Off to his right ran a line of cottonwoods marking a creek or a stream. He pulled out his spyglass and focused on a herd of cattle and a couple of riders.
Montana Sky: Dance Toward The Light (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Entertainers of The West Book 3) Page 5