Accidental Courtship

by Lisa Bingham

  A deep voice came from above. “Can you grab me with your other hand?”

  “I—I think so.”

  She wrapped her fingers around the broad, tanned wrist.

  “I’m going to try to yank you out. Don’t let go.”

  “Yes. O-okay.”

  “You ready?”

  “Yes, I’m—”

  Sumner didn’t have a chance to finish her sentence before she was wrenched from her nest of ice. For a moment, her body seemed weightless, flying through the air, before she felt herself falling, landing over the body of her rescuer.

  Sputtering, she struggled to catch her breath. Then her gaze latched on to a masculine face, dark wavy hair, a beard touched with threads of gray and eyes the same mix of brown, green and blue as the river that wound through the canyon gorge.

  He regarded her with an equal measure of surprise before it became quite clear to her that he’d just figured out that she was a woman in a camp famed for its lack of females.

  Sumner’s cheeks grew heated and she scrambled to stand up. But with the tangle of her skirts and the slipperiness of the ice, she wedged herself more tightly into the stranger’s embrace.

  She could feel her cheeks growing hot, but every time she put a hand down to brace herself, she touched his arm, his shoulder, until—finally—two sets of fists grabbed her and pulled her upright.

  She wavered for a moment, a swirl of dizziness nearly pitching her onto the ground again. In an effort to appear calm and collected, she planted her heels more firmly in the ice and stood with as much dignity as she could summon.

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” she murmured.

  The miners on either side gaped at Sumner like a pair of landed fish.

  At her feet, the stranger winced and pushed himself to a sitting position. He grabbed for a hat that had fallen into the snow, settled it over his brow, then gingerly rose to his feet.

  Had she hurt him that badly?

  Self-conscious, Sumner reached to smooth her hair—only to discover that the careful swirl of braids and curls had come completely unmoored. Even worse, as she tugged at her bodice, she discovered one sleeve had torn free and she’d lost a pair of buttons in a most inopportune spot. Nevertheless, other than the bump on her head, and some scratches on her hands, she appeared to be unscathed.

  At least, that was what she presumed, until she looked up to find that nearly thirty men stood amid the wreckage of the train. Every single one of them was staring at her. Even the mules in the distance seemed to be giving her the eye.

  “Hel-lo?” she offered hesitantly.

  Except for a half-hearted bray from one of the animals, there was no response. It grew so quiet that she swore she could hear the snow crystalize beneath their feet. Her cheeks grew hotter.

  She cleared her throat, gesturing to the wreckage around her. “We’ve had an accident...”

  Honestly, Sumner. They already know that.

  “An avalanche...”

  They know that, too.

  “There are more people in the various cars. I’d say about a half-dozen crew members, a couple of families with small children. Some more women. All totaled, I’d say...fifty or sixty of them.”

  Obviously, the men hadn’t known that piece of information, because their impromptu game of freeze tag came to a halt and they moved, swarming toward the exposed corners of the passenger cars, shouting out orders.

  Sumner hurried to help them, but a hand snagged her elbow, pulling her away from the railway carriage she’d just abandoned.

  “I need to show them where to dig!” she retorted, realizing that the gentleman who held her at bay was the same one who had pulled her from the smashed railway car.

  “They know what to do.”

  “But—”

  “You’ll only be in the way.”

  Cuz you’re a girl.

  The hard set of the stranger’s jaw and the crease between his brow told her plainly enough that, even though the man wouldn’t offer the words aloud, he was thinking them. Once again, she’d been summed up in a single glance and pigeonholed as useless, simply by virtue of her sex. And that brought a starch to her spine that the avalanche had nearly knocked from her system.

  She refused to let one more man tell her what to do.

  “I assure you, I won’t be in the way. I’m a doctor.” She flung an accusatory finger in the direction of the hole from which she’d been tugged as unceremoniously as a turnip. “There are injured women inside.”

  His eyes narrowed. “A doctor?” he murmured in disbelief.

  Sumner shook herself free of his grip and pulled herself to full height. Unfortunately, she still barely reached his shoulder, but she wasn’t about to let that fact deter her. “Yes. I’m Sumner Havisham. The mining camp is expecting me. I’ve been hired to serve as their company doctor for the next five years.”

  His brows rose, nearly disappearing beneath the brim of his hat.

  “You’re... Sumner Havisham.”

  “Yes, of course. I have a copy of the signed contract...” She automatically felt for her reticule, then sighed, resisting the urge to stomp her foot in frustration. “It’s with my things.” She waved in the direction of the train.

  The stranger sighed and stared at the ground as if pained, the pad of his thumb rubbing at the crease that appeared between his brows. Then he muttered, “Give me strength,” before gesturing to a wooden sledge a few yards away. “Why don’t you wait over there, miss—”

  “Dr. Havisham.”

  “Dr. Havisham. As the passengers are pulled free, we’ll bring them to you.”

  When she would have argued, he held up a broad hand to stop her.

  “The way things are, we’ve got to tread lightly over the debris path so we don’t end up crashing through a window, or starting another avalanche. None of this is stable.”

  Sumner shivered at the thought, her gaze convulsively leaping up the slopes of the mountain where an enormous gash gouged through wind-carved whiteness. Broken trees and displaced boulders gave evidence to the churning power of the forces which had already given way.

  “Please, Mi—Dr. Havisham. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  Although her pride still prickled at being excluded, Sumner had to concede that this was hardly the moment to prove her strength of will, especially since Willow and the other women were awaiting rescue.

  “If you think that’s best.”

  “Oh, yes, Dr. Havisham. I really think it’s best.”

  Sumner’s eyes narrowed. The tone of the man’s voice had held an irritating mixture of condescension and vehemence.

  “And you are...”

  He paused. Sighed. Then momentarily lifted his hat. “Jonah Ramsey. I’m the superintendent of the Batchwell Bottoms mine.”

  She’d only been in the valley for a few minutes and she’d already managed to irritate one of the top officials—a fact she could ill afford.

  Sumner wasn’t foolish enough to think that the owners of the Batchwell Bottoms mine had willingly chosen a female doctor. Not when the rules of the community were so strict against the gentler sex. She’d been astounded when her letters of introduction had been answered—and even more amazed when further correspondence had led to an offer of employment.

  We would be honored to offer you a five-year contract at our establishment...

  Sumner had hardly been able to believe she’d been so blessed. She hadn’t just received a job; she’d been offered a contract for five years.

  It hadn’t been until after she’d sent her acceptance that she’d begun to feel the first needling doubts.

  Why on earth would a mining community so well-known for its stringent rules—no drinking, no cussing, no women—been willing to hire her as their doctor?

  She’d tried to reassure herself that she wasn’
t an actual miner but a member of the support staff. Next, she’d bolstered her inner argument by reminding herself that her professors and fellow staff at Ludlow’s Hospital for Women must have offered her a glowing recommendation. There was nothing untoward about her job or her appointment as mine doctor, despite her gender.

  And then she’d remembered one salient point. Although she’d answered every question put to her by Ezra Batchwell and Phineas Bottoms, neither one had ever asked her if she were male or female.

  They’d just assumed that Sumner Havisham was a man.

  Even now, her body filled with the same frustration that she’d felt that day. But by then, it had been too late to retrieve the letter or clarify the offer—even if she’d wanted to do so. It shouldn’t matter whether she was male or female as long as she could do the job. It shouldn’t matter if her name were Sumner or Sally or Madame X.

  Weeks later, when she’d received instructions, a sum of money for supplies and the journey and her travel arrangements, Sumner had decided to give the owners of the Batchwell Bottoms mine the benefit of the doubt. Maybe it wouldn’t matter. Maybe they’d be accepting of her and her skills. She would journey to Utah Territory and see what happened. True, the owners might try to force her to leave so that they could find a “more suitable male replacement.” But with the weather closing in and a signed contract in her pocket, she’d hoped she could force her hand—for a few days, a few weeks, a few months. Long enough for her to find another position somewhere in America so she wouldn’t have to return to England.

  Where the men were even more unreasonable than those in the wild and woolly American territories.

  She blinked, unable to keep herself from studying the man who stood in front of her. If anyone epitomized the rough and rugged men of the West, Jonah Ramsey fit the bill. He wore his hat low over his brow, and his hair exploded from below the brim in an unruly tangle of waves. His beard was full and needed a trim, and his eyes...

  Those eyes could melt ice with their intensity.

  And they were focused on her.

  His gaze was so direct that it caused a prickling to skitter down her spine, but she ignored it. Instead, overlooking the fact that her appearance wasn’t entirely conducive to formal introductions, she held out her hand. Best to show the man at the very beginning that she considered herself his equal.

  “I’m very pleased to meet you, Superintendent Ramsey.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed as if she were behaving untowardly. She realized that Bachelor Bottoms had a “no women” policy, which probably meant they had a “no touching” policy.

  Did that include shaking her hand?

  Or was Mr. Ramsey one of those incredibly stuffy gentlemen who believed that a woman shouldn’t offer introductions herself, but should wait for a male relative to do so?

  If Mr. Ramsey was waiting for any kin to offer such niceties, he would wait a very long time.

  He reluctantly closed her fingers in his. Her skin was icy and numb from digging through the snow, but it wasn’t so cold that it didn’t immediately absorb the warmth of his clasp. In that brief instant, she became intimately conscious of the calluses at his palms, the strength of his grip and the long, slender fingers that nearly swallowed hers whole.

  Then, just as quickly, he released her and began tugging on his gloves.

  “If you’ll wait over there,” he prompted.

  It wasn’t a complete dismissal, but it felt awfully close. Clearly, Mr. Ramsey wasn’t pleased with her identity or her profession.

  Her spine stiffened and her chin tilted infinitesimally. Ignoring the disarray of her clothing and her disheveled hair, she picked up her skirts and marched with as much dignity and decorum as she could muster. She’d been treated worse before and she supposed that she would be again.

  But if Mr. Ramsey thought that she would be dissuaded from practicing medicine in Bachelor Bottoms by such aloofness alone...

  He had another think coming.

  Chapter Two

  It was well past midnight when Jonah brought a halt to the rescue operation on the hill. By that time, they were able to confirm that the railroad crew, nine farmers and businessmen, a widow, two families and forty-one mail-order brides had been found—all fifty-nine of them.

  No. Make that sixty.

  Because there was the doctor.

  Sumner Havisham.

  A woman.

  Thanks to the Good Lord, there had been no fatalities. But some of the injuries had been severe. There were broken bones, gashes and head wounds. Two women and the conductor were currently unconscious, and they were already running low on medical supplies—which didn’t bode well for the rest of the winter. Especially since it didn’t look like anyone would be leaving Bachelor Bottoms anytime soon.

  “You’re sure the pass is blocked?” Creakle asked for the hundredth time.

  Jonah silenced him with a warning glance. “Let’s not spread that piece of news around, Creakle.”

  “But you don’t know for sure, do you? I mean, once it’s light outside, y’ might see another way out,” Creakle said, his tone only minutely softer.

  Obviously, Creakle was hoping that Jonah was exaggerating because the man’s expression fell and his eyes took on the woe of a little boy who’d been told Christmas was canceled. Being cut off meant that there would be no fresh supplies. No more shipments of food or goods. Even worse, no deliveries from Creakle’s beloved Montgomery Ward catalog.

  “But there could be some other way out?” Creakle asked again, his tone full of both hope and dread.

  “Maybe,” Jonah offered. But he doubted they’d find a different means to escape the valley. The debris field from the avalanche had filled the gap with more than fifty feet of snow. The locomotive and the passenger cars were destroyed, and Jonah was sure the rails would be warped or torn free. There would be no trains coming or going from Bachelor Bottoms until the snow melted. Even then, it might take months to repair the line.

  “Mebbe we could get a man t’ hike over the top.” The suggestion was given half-heartedly.

  Jonah had already entertained the same thought. He’d even sent one of the miners to test the slopes. But the drifts were unsettled and loose, and each step had threatened to cause another avalanche, so Jonah had been forced to call the fellow back. He wouldn’t risk a man’s life in a foolhardy attempt to get the women out of the valley. It could wait a day or two.

  He hoped.

  Unfortunately, he was beginning to see that while he and some of the other men had spent their time on the mountainside, the situation here in the mining camp was growing more critical than he’d first supposed. Just as he’d feared, the arrival of the women had upset the carefully regulated schedules of shifts and respites. Worse, there was a restlessness permeating the air—as if the wind itself could sense that things had changed at Bachelor Bottoms.

  The men were no longer alone.

  “How long have they been this way, Creakle?”

  “An hour or so. ’Bout the same time Batchwell came stormin’ into the office and told me to send someone t’ tell you t’ come back t’ town fer a meeting.”

  Jonah grimaced. A late-night conference with the owners wasn’t completely out of character. But Batchwell’s exact words as quoted by the runner was for Jonah to “bring along that chit,” meaning their new company doctor.

  “I guess it was too much to hope that I could break the news about Sumner Havisham’s gender to Ezra Batchwell and Phineas Bottoms,” Jonah said ruefully.

  Creakle chortled. “Word spread through the camp faster than that snow comin’ off the mountain. Mebbe you didn’t notice, but Batchwell and Bottoms hightailed it to the accident scene so quick I wouldn’a been surprised if the snow hadn’t melted ahead of them like the Red Sea parting for Moses.”

  Jonah grimaced. He might not have seen the men com
ing, but he’d heard Batchwell shouting at the rescue party with such indignation that his bellowing had threatened to bring the rest of the mountainside down around their ears. Jonah’s only consolation had been the fact that Dr. Havisham had left with the first group of passengers to be taken into town. Jonah had told Ike Everett, one of the mule skinners, to take the passengers to the Miners’ Hall where the women could warm themselves and dry their clothes. Therefore, when Batchwell had stomped up the hillside, demanding to see the “lying, thieving, no-good charlatan,” Sumner Havisham wasn’t around.

  Jonah might not approve of a woman parading around as a doctor, but he wouldn’t subject any gentle-born female to Batchwell’s anger. He had a short fuse and his temper could burn as hot as dynamite. After nearly twenty minutes of ranting about the avalanche, the mangled train and the stranded passengers, Jonah had thought the man had vented his anger once and for all. But judging from the lamplight blazing from the office windows, both Ezra Batchwell and Phineas Bottoms were waiting for round two.

  Creakle snorted. “Looks like they’re ready t’ confront the lady doctor, and you get t’ be the witness.”

  Right now, all Jonah wanted was a hot meal and a warm bed. He was cold and hungry and had long since lost his patience. He needed a few minutes of peace, quiet and solitude to push back the old demons that rattled inside him whenever his back seized up and burned like the blazes.

  Many more days like today, and you’ll be pushin’ up daisies.

  No.

  Any moments of respite he’d hoped to have seemed far from likely. Even now, as he nudged his gelding onto the main thoroughfare, he sensed the hushed expectancy. The shivering anticipation. The need. Even worse, the air shimmered with a host of unusual noises.

  Laughter.

  High-pitched chatter.

  Singing.

  With each step his mount took, it became obvious that—while Jonah had been overseeing the rescue operation—the men who hadn’t been on the slopes or on duty had seen to the needs of the stranded passengers, the bulk of whom were women. Now they didn’t look inclined to leave. By the looks of it, half the men of Bachelor Bottoms stood on the road outside the Miners’ Hall. All of them within full view of the mine offices.