Of course, as he’d told Miss Carlson, it was bank policy not to loan money unless the customer had a job or property as security, but he’d hoped Mr. Hunt might make an exception. Maybe he was the one being irrational, and he’d allowed the young lady to cloud his good judgment.
Steven intentionally relaxed his tight fingers. No sense in getting worked up over something he couldn’t change and hadn’t expected to happen in the first place. Would he have reacted so if it had been a man who’d requested the loan? He shook off the thought, surprised at the realization that a personal attraction to Miss Carlson might have prompted this response.
He could only pray Miss Carlson didn’t arrive today. Hunt was in a foul mood over the loss of some mining business he’d hoped to acquire. Steven had barely escaped with a scathing comment concerning his lack of discernment in what type of people were worthy of loans.
Apparently the subject of Mr. Pape’s proclivity for tipping the bottle had made its way to his boss’s ears. It mattered not that Pape’s daughter was cut from a different cloth.
Possibly the best option was to drive out and let her know. Then he remembered her request not to do so. He placed his head in his hands and concentrated. There had to be a way to help. He’d tackled tougher situations in the past, and this one was important. A vision of emerald green eyes and creamy skin rose in his mind. Yes, sir, he’d find a solution, if it was the last thing he did at this bank.
At that instant the quiet of the morning shattered as a loud boom rocked the building and rattled the windows. Steven sprang to his feet and bolted for the front door, joining the tellers and customers at the expansive glass window overlooking the street.
Mr. Parker turned a pasty face to Steven. The teller’s lips were trembling. “What do you think? An accident of some kind? That surely wasn’t thunder.”
Steven winced. “It sounded like an explosion. I hope something hasn’t gone wrong at one of the mines.” He pressed through the knot of people and gained the entrance. Men in rough miners’ garb raced down the street, all seemingly intent on reaching the same destination. Stepping outside, he flagged down a passerby and grasped the man’s arm. “Any idea what’s happened?”
The fellow’s eyes darted from Steven to the men disappearing around a far corner. “A man rode through town spreading the word. He said dynamite blew in a small munitions shack next to the Quartz Lode Mine, on the outskirts of town. Took out several buildings around it. Not sure if anyone was hurt or not.” He shook his arm free and sprinted forward.
Steven slumped against the brick face of the building. The one-room cabin he called home was located at that mine site, and if he wasn’t mistaken, it was only a stone’s throw from the shed where the explosives were stored.
Charlie Pape scratched his chin and stared at the messy barn. How had it gotten this way, and where was Leah when he needed her? A flicker of memory illuminated his fogginess, and he snorted. That ding-blasted bunch of women who worked on quilts at the church. He wagged his head and spat. Not that he had anything against the women, but making quilts for a bunch of heathens was a waste of time, if you asked him.
Wouldn’t his gal be better off helping him on the ranch? After all, since Tom ran off so many years ago, he had no one else to leave it to when he passed on to glory. Or wherever he ended up. He scowled. He didn’t plan on dying anytime soon, so it didn’t much matter. The point being, the ranch had a lot of work needing done, and he was only one man. ’Course, Buddy pulled his weight as much as he could with his bad back and all.
But no two ways about it, Charlie missed Leah when she wasn’t around. He didn’t plan to let her know that, how-some-ever. The last thing he wanted was her getting a big head.
He plucked a pitchfork out of the straw and bent over the pile he needed to move. Why had he ever thought to put it here in the first place? Another memory niggled—spending an hour pitching all this straw out of the loft onto the barn floor one night after he’d returned from the saloon. He could hear Leah’s chiding almost as clear as it had been when she’d found him, accusing him of having too much to drink and not knowing what he was doing.
At the time he’d bristled and stormed around, informing her he was her pa, not her child, and, by jing, he did too know what he was doing. As he gazed at the looming pile still planted right where he’d tossed it, he wondered if that were true.
But it wouldn’t do to start second-guessing his decisions, even if they did seem foolish in the full light of day. And it surely wouldn’t do to let Leah guess he’d wondered a time or two if the drinking needed to stop. But how to do that was the question. And what would fill the void if he did?
Leah halted her mare in front of Baker City Community Church and sat, enjoying the peace that flooded her. The building was so much more than a one-story structure with a bell tower and a stained-glass window.
These past three years she’d built a deep friendship and sense of family with the group of women who congregated here once a month to work on a quilt for a needy family. Occasionally they gathered more often, and each time Leah came away with her strength and faith renewed. Not that the women often delved into topics from the Bible or prayed together. It was more the unity and fellowship they enjoyed, as well as having a safe place she could bare her soul with sisters who loved her.
A shiver ran through her as a brisk spring wind kicked up. Even though it was one o’clock in the afternoon with the sun shining, the cold still penetrated. She climbed from the buggy and tied the mare, eager to see how many made it today. The group had grown this past year since Katherine’s mother, Mrs. Frances Cooper, arrived, as well as Beth Roberts—no, Tucker now. Leah would have to make a conscious effort to remember Beth’s married name, and her aunt, Wilma Marshall. Another change, but not quite as difficult, as she’d not been well acquainted with the lady before she married Dr. Caleb Marshall last December.
Hurrying up the three steps, she tugged the door open, eager to arrive in the warm side room where the quilt frame was set. She stripped off her gloves, hat, and coat as the heat from the wood stove penetrated and hung them all on a hook. Excited chatter emanated from within, and Leah stepped inside, glancing from face to face.
Katherine, her close friend and owner of the boardinghouse, sat on one side, her rounded belly evidence of the growing baby due in two months. Her face glowed as she leaned over the cooing baby in Ella Farnsworth’s arms.
Virginia Lewis bobbed her head at something Hester Sue Masters was sharing, and a silver curl escaped her cap. Wilma Roberts, no, Marshall—Leah smiled, amazed that she’d gotten it wrong already—stood not far away chatting with her close friend and Katherine’s mother, Frances Cooper. Everyone was here except Beth, but since she’d only been married a couple of weeks that wasn’t terribly surprising.
She lifted her hand in greeting and waved at Katherine, who made a move to rise. “Please don’t get up, Katherine. I’m guessing you’ve been on your feet enough today. How is everyone?”
Voices echoed from both sides, and Virginia enveloped her in a hug. The warmth spreading through her now lodged deep in her heart. She could always count on Virginia’s tenderness, no matter the situation or person involved.
Katherine patted the chair beside her. “Come look at this darling baby girl. I think she looks like her mama.”
Leah perched on the seat and leaned forward as a proud Ella sat the baby on her lap and bounced her. The little one wore a hand-sewn gown with a drawstring at the neck and smiled and cooed as the ladies crowded close. “She’s beautiful. I’m so glad you brought her. We’ve missed you on the days you’ve stayed home with her.”
Ella beamed. “Missy had a cold last month, or I’d have been here. I’m thankful we don’t have to deal with colic anymore. But I’ve been goin’ stir crazy not gettin’ to see you gals. I’m sure glad she’s doin’ better and the doc said I could take her out of the house.”
Wilma nudged her in the side with her elbow. “Be careful what you say, Frances. Since Katherine’s baby is coming soon, you might well experience it again.” She winked at Katherine, then sobered. “Not that I wish it, you understand. No mother enjoys dealing with a fussy child. We’ll pray little Missy stays healthy from now on, as well as the baby joining our household.”
Frances smirked. “I wondered if you had forgotten that you will be within earshot of the baby, should she have a tummy ache or any other ailments that keep her from sleeping. In fact, I will be calling on you to help walk the child when Katherine and Micah require rest, so I would suggest you take those prayers seriously.”
Wilma rolled her eyes. “I declare, Frances, you do beat all. Caleb and I won’t be living at the boardinghouse forever, but I’ll do my part with pleasure, until the day comes we find our own place.”
She patted Ella’s hand. “I’m glad she’s better, and I imagine your husband is quite proud.”
The first-time mother nodded and smiled. “He shore is, ma’am. At first he was hopin’ for a boy, but now he wouldn’t trade her for a dozen sons.”
“I should say not!” Hester Sue interrupted. “I’ve raised both, and I must say girls are a sight easier when they’re young—until they start noticing boys, that is. Then they go plumb loco.” She rubbed her hands down the sides of her skirt. “Guess we should get to work. I reckon this quilt ain’t going to finish itself.”
Virginia pulled up a stool and patted it. “Katherine, you should stay off your feet. And if you get too tired, tell us. We’ll quit early.”
Katherine rubbed the small of her back and grinned. “It’s actually more comfortable standing. This little one seems to enjoy kicking every time I sit.”
Hester Sue ran her gaze up and down Katherine’s frame. “I’d guess from the way you’re carrying it, this one’s a boy. You got two girls already, so that might be a welcome change.”
Leah glanced at her friend, wondering how she’d take that comment. Katherine’s daughters, Lucy and Mandy, were two of the sweetest children she knew. Of course, Hester Sue hadn’t meant to be unkind. She was simply a little gruffer than most.
Katherine chuckled. “I’m not really caring if it’s a boy or a girl. But if Micah had his way, it would be twins. One of each.”
She shook her head. “He has a son, so he’d like a daughter, but I have daughters and have always wished for a son. But we’ll be happy with either.”
Leah threaded her needle and plucked her thimble from the basket. “There appeared to be some excitement when I drove into town. A lot of miners milling about the streets and smoke in the air at the far end of town. Does anyone know what happened?”
Several voices chimed in at once before Frances took command. “There was an explosion at a mine. That is why Beth did not come today. She and her mother wanted to make sure Steven was all right, since he lives somewhere in that area.”
Leah’s heart jumped. “How terrible!” She placed her thimble on the stretched quilt and gave Frances her full attention. “Was Mr. Harding or anyone else hurt? It would be terrible if the miners were injured. Beth and her mother must be worried sick about Mr. Harding.”
Frances shook her head. “They do not think so, as the dynamite exploded when Steven should have been working, but he does visit the mines periodically as part of his business.”
Wilma nodded. “That isn’t the only reason. Turns out he’s been renting a one-room cabin on the mining site, since it’s close to the bank. There’s not much to be found in the way of housing in this town with all the new people flooding in the past year or two. That’s why Caleb and I are still at Katherine’s boardinghouse.” She clucked her tongue. “Rumor has it that several of the buildings blew up or burned.”
Virginia poked her needle into the fabric. “We need to turn our attention to doing what we can for those who might be injured. Some of our fabric could be used for bandages if necessary.”
“I agree,” Wilma added. “Let’s put a few rolls together, and we can drop them by the doctor’s office on our way back home.”
Voices rose in assent, and the quilt frame was pushed to the side as some of the women dug through the boxes of fabric to find remnants long enough to be of help.
Ella lifted Missy to her shoulder and patted her back. “Gracious sakes! Where is that poor Mr. Harding goin’ to live? Since his sister and mother stay at your place, I suppose it would be sensible for him to come there. Do you have room, Katherine?”
“I’m afraid not. We’re full right now and, with the baby coming, Micah thinks we shouldn’t rent to anyone new if a room becomes available. His business is doing well, and we’d both like to spend more time with the children. And I’ll admit, taking on additional laundry and cooking is more than I can tolerate right now.”
Wilma nodded. “I agree. You’ve been doing entirely too much since Beth and I arrived, and you ought to rest. I practically forced you to let us stay, and it’s high time that changed. In fact, Caleb and I will look for a home of our own. That would ease your burden somewhat, wouldn’t it?”
Frances drew herself up as tall as her short stature would allow and glared at her friend. “Balderdash. You will do no such thing, Wilma Marshall. If anyone leaves, it will be me. I came without so much as a by-your-leave. Besides, that would leave room for poor Mr. Harding, and he could be near his mother and sister.”
Leah glanced from one distraught face to another. Katherine’s distress was evident, and Leah hurt for the two older women trying so valiantly to fix what they perceived as a personal dilemma.
She placed one hand on Frances’s shoulder and the other on Wilma’s shoulder. “Ladies, I can’t speak for Katherine, but from what I’ve seen, you’re both a wonderful help.” She narrowed her eyes and thought. “As for Mr. Harding, I suggest we pray that God opens the perfect place for him, if he has indeed lost his home.”
“Wise words, my dear,” Virginia said. “It doesn’t pay to rush in when emotions are high and try to make decisions. Things tend to work out with time and prayer, as well as a bit of patience.” She held out her hands to Hester Sue and Ella. “The quilt can wait a few more minutes. There may be others at the mining camp who are injured or without homes. Let’s ask the Lord if there’s anything more we can do.”
Leah started at the words. She’d meant it when she’d said they should pray that God would meet Mr. Harding’s needs, but not once had it occurred to her that any of them should offer assistance. Her heart sank at the thought. Surely Virginia wasn’t hinting that God would expect her to do anything in the way of offering the man a home?
The women knew she had plenty of room in the bunkhouse, but the last thing she wanted was a greenhorn city man getting in her way, even if he was one of the most handsome men she’d ever laid her eyes on. In fact, that was even more of a reason to keep out of his way. She’d never get enough work done with a man like that underfoot.
Chapter Five
Hours after the blast, Steven stared at the ruins of his home, steeling himself against the rising discouragement. The smoldering cabin had been too hot to deal with after the explosion, so he’d gone back to work for a while. When he returned, he was armed with a shovel and work clothes Jeffery had loaned him. Tendrils of smoke spiraled from the pile, and the stench drove him backward a step.
It wasn’t the first time he’d suffered loss. At eight years old he’d lost his father and his sister, and for several years following, his mother’s grief and guilt over his sister’s disappearance put her in such an emotional state he’d practically raised himself.
Ma had finally found a man she could love again, but after nine years his stepfather had died as well. The l
oss of their farm and the necessity of moving to town had set Ma back—not to mention her poor health resulting from the cholera attack years earlier that killed so many on the wagon train. But Ma had Beth now and a home at the Jacobs’ boardinghouse where she was comfortable and loved.
With the town booming and lodging scarce, he’d probably be forced into an expensive hotel room. He’d only recently begun paying for his mother’s lodging, and with almost no expenses of his own he’d put away a sizable nest egg from his wages. But that would get eaten up if he didn’t find reasonable accommodations soon.
But seeing the remains of all that he owned lying in a charred heap snatched the wind from his lungs. At least he’d had his mother all those years, even if he’d had to be more parent than son much of the time. Part of what had kept him going was the knowledge someone depended on him. That all ended when Beth came back into their lives.
What did that leave him? A job he’d thought he’d wanted in a town where he now felt a virtual stranger, and no ties to the farmland he hadn’t realized he would miss. He pushed the ungrateful thoughts aside and grabbed a shovel. Now that his cabin was gone, his job was all he had.
He wouldn’t allow foolish sentiments and yearnings for the past to put that in jeopardy. The first order of business was to sift through the rubble and see what he could salvage, then figure out where he would live. Dark would be fast approaching, and clouds were moving in. He’d better get to work while he still had light to see.
Someone tapped his shoulder, and he pivoted. Jeffery stood nearby, shovel in hand. “What can I do to help?”
Steven grinned, thankful his sister had married this man who accepted him like a brother. “Ma and Beth brought me a shirt and a pair of old trousers a few hours ago, but it’s going to be messy. If you don’t mind getting dirty, I’m hoping I can find something to save. But be careful as there are hot timbers.”
Dreaming on Daisies: A Novel (Love Blossoms in Oregon Series Book 3) Page 4