Accidental Sweetheart

by Lisa Bingham

  Gideon nodded. From some of the discussions he’d heard, the owners were thinking of adding another hundred miners to the workforce.

  “Those men will need housing.”

  “Sure.”

  “So, what if, instead of adding more row houses in town, Batchwell and Bottoms bought a piece of property bordering the land they already have. There would be plenty of room there for them to build family dwellings. I bet the men would willingly build the structures themselves in their off hours!”

  Lydia’s enthusiasm was infectious. Gideon felt his own brain snag on the idea, poke it, prod it. For the life of him, he couldn’t think of a reason why it couldn’t work, why it wouldn’t work...

  If they could just get Batchwell to agree.

  “Don’t you see? Technically, the women wouldn’t be a distraction. They’d be away from the heart of the mining town and the single men, immersed in their own family-oriented community. Yet, they’d still be near enough that they could attend services at the Meeting House, work in the cook shack, and tend to the wounded when needed. It’s the perfect compromise.”

  “You’re forgetting. Batchwell isn’t your only problem. Bottoms would have to agree as well.”

  Lydia’s eyes twinkled with some secret knowledge. “Somehow, I think he’ll look favorably on the plan.”

  “I don’t know if you’ll ever get Batchwell to calm down enough to even consider the proposal. As soon as he hears that you’ve held the valley hostage, he’s likely to explode like a case of dynamite.”

  “Leave that to me.” Lydia jumped to her feet.

  “Wait! You need to untie me, Lydia!”

  She paused, her hand on the doorknob. He could see her determination wavering. She even swayed in his direction. But then she shook her head.

  Returning to his side, she lifted the gag from where it had fallen nearby.

  “I’m sorry, Gideon. It’s for your own protection.”

  He fought against her, trying to rear away from the rolled-up dish towel. But with his hands tied behind him and his head still pounding, his efforts merely made him sick. He was forced to become still to make the waves of nausea go away.

  Lydia cupped his face with his hands. In that moment, despite everything that had happened, he’d never seen anyone so beautiful. Her gaze had softened, her face filling with such a wealth of tenderness and wonder that he had a hard time believing it had been directed solely at him. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought he saw a portion of his own fragile feelings for her reflected in their depths.

  “Don’t you see, Gideon? I’m leaving you this way for your own good. If this doesn’t work, if I can’t make Batchwell see reason, you can honestly say that you had no part in any of it.”

  To his amazement, she leaned close, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

  “I know you’ll probably never forgive me for this, Gideon. And I’m sorry. I really am. But I can’t leave this valley knowing I didn’t try my best. So many lives are at stake. Against all that, my own happiness isn’t worth a hill of beans.”

  He opened his mouth for one final argument, but she took that opportunity to shove the towel in his mouth, then tie it behind his head. He tried to speak, tried to call her back. But she rose to her feet and left the room, quietly shutting the door behind her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I can’t leave this valley knowing I didn’t try my best.

  Panic rose in Gideon’s chest as Lydia’s words echoed through his head. But his apprehension had little to do with the way he’d been hog-tied with a set of dish towels.

  So many lives are at stake. Against all that, my own happiness isn’t worth a hill of beans.

  He suddenly understood. After everything that Lydia had told him—and knowing enough of the Tommy Gang to piece together the rest—he finally realized why Lydia had been so adamant against marrying and having a family of her own.

  He didn’t doubt that she felt the need to champion women’s suffrage and equality. As a child, she must have felt helpless. Clinton Tomlinson had a reputation for being ruthless. He’d shot one of his own men in the back for bumping into Clinton’s horse. How much more ruthless would he be with his own blood? Gideon could only imagine that, from the time she’d proved useful to Clinton, he’d demanded absolute obedience from his daughter. The man had taken her on his raids, forced her to participate in them, then had threatened her with horrible images of what would happen to her if any of them were ever caught. The thought of her being so young and exposed to so much savagery filled Gideon with such a boiling wave of anger and protectiveness that he could scarcely breathe.

  Yet, through it all, she’d found the courage to turn her father in, thinking all the while that she would go to prison for her efforts. And now, after fighting so hard for her future, she’d placed herself in a position where Batchwell could see her put behind bars as well.

  No.

  Gideon fought against the dish cloths that restrained him, knowing that he had to stop Lydia before she approached Batchwell. There might still be a way to present the compromise. If they could bring an end to the protest and get the men back to work before the evening shift change, maybe, just maybe, they could avoid the brunt of Batchwell’s anger.

  The door cracked open, silently, stealthily. Gideon grew quiet, praying that Lydia had come to her senses and come back to untie him.

  But it wasn’t a woman who stepped inside.

  It was Jonah Ramsey.

  For a moment, Jonah stood frozen, taking in the sight of Gideon bound and gagged on the dining room floor. Sumner hadn’t been lying about the measles. Gideon could see the faint evidence of the telltale rash on his neck and hands.

  The man stepped inside and closed the door. He leaned against the wall and folded his arms, managing to look stern and amused at the same time. Then the room vibrated with the sound of low laughter.

  “I’m gone a couple of weeks and the whole place falls apart,” he said once he’d managed to tamp down his mirth.

  Gideon struggled against his bindings. He tried to order his friend to untie him, but the only thing that emerged were garbled noises—which only seemed to make Jonah laugh harder.

  Finally, he pushed himself upright. Even then, he took his blessed time crossing the room.

  “I tell you, I nearly took my life in my hands by coming here today. Sumner has been fussing over me like a mother hen. The way she was acting, you’d think that I was at death’s door most of the time. For the past week, I’ve been about ready to go stark, raving mad. This morning, I finally caught on that she wasn’t desperate about my health. She was desperate to keep me out of town. Once I figured that much out, I knew the women were up to something. The warm weather was bound to make them desperate.”

  Jonah reached for the gag. “They’ve got this tied in a half-dozen knots,” he muttered to himself as he worked. But finally, the gag fell away.

  “How’d you know I was here?” Gideon gasped, gulping for air.

  “My first stop was the mine. One of your men filled me in. Where on earth is Charles? I left him in charge of the tunnels.”

  “He’s guarding Batchwell. The women have kidnapped half the miners and they’re holding Bottoms as a hostage in his own cottage.”

  Jonah chuckled again.

  When was he going to stop laughing and turn him loose?

  As if Gideon’s thoughts had been spoken out loud, the cloths binding his wrists gave way and Jonah made quick work of the ones at his feet.

  He stood, then reached out to haul Gideon upright.

  Gideon swayed for a moment, his hands and feet tingling as the circulation returned to them.

  “What’s the plan?” Jonah asked.

  “I need to get to Batchwell’s place before the women do. In the meantime, gather more miners from the tunnels. Outfi
t them with revolvers and rifles from the storehouse and storm the buildings where they’re keeping the men.”

  “You plan to shoot the girls?”

  Gideon shot Jonah a pithy look. “No. But I’m betting that, with a show of force, we can get them to give up this nonsense and get the men back to work. The sooner that happens, the better off everyone will be.”

  Jonah nodded. “Fair enough. Then what?”

  “Then meet me at Batchwell’s. I’ll wait until you get there before I talk to the man. Maybe with you and Charles there, we can keep him calm.”

  Jonah started laughing again. “So, we’re resorting to wishful thinking, are we?”

  “Just do it, Jonah.”

  Jonah shot him a mock salute, then headed for the door. Gideon didn’t even wait for his friend to leave. He was already climbing out the window to the side alley beyond.

  * * *

  Lydia kept her head down as she hurried across the street, down the narrow lane leading to the Meeting House, then to the road that wound from the tail end of the miners’ row houses, up, up to the owner’s homes. She’d walked little more than a third of the way, carefully averting her face from view, her eyes smarting with tears, when she became aware of a pair of riders galloping furiously onto the main thoroughfare from the opposite end of town.

  She paused, high enough on the hill now that she could see them head pell-mell toward the mining office. There, one of the men brought his mount to a skidding halt while the other one continued his furious pace toward the mine.

  Lydia wasn’t even conscious of changing course, her step quickening as she returned toward the heart of Bachelor Bottoms. As the first deep tolls of the warning bell rang through the valley, she broke into a run, arriving at the Mining Office as a few men began to poke their heads above the false fronts of the buildings.

  “There’s a large group of men heading into the valley!” the rider shouted to anyone within earshot. “It looks like an advancing army! They’re loaded to the eyeteeth. They’ve even got a cannon!”

  Lydia came to a shuddering halt.

  She rested a hand against the building to steady herself as Jonah Ramsey jogged into view. Lydia didn’t have time to wonder when he’d managed to arrive in town. Like the leader he was, he immediately commanded the attention of anyone within earshot.

  “It’s got to be the attack that the home office tried to warn us about. You! Get over to the mine. I want every man you can find. Send them to the storehouse and start handing out the weapons and the ammunition. I doubt we’ve got more than twenty or thirty minutes until they break through the canyon.”

  Lydia’s feet seemed to move of their own volition, backing away from the crowd gathering around the alarm bell. Whirling, she picked up her skirts and ran to the Miners’ Hall.

  She was several yards away when the door opened and Hannah nervously poked her head out.

  “I take it that they’ve figured out what we’ve been doing?”

  “No. Let the men go.”

  “What?”

  Greta joined her friend in the doorway.

  “Was ist los?”

  “The Tommy Gang. They’re riding toward town. They mean to steal the silver and who knows what else. We’ve got to warn people! We have to fight back!”

  “Lydia!”

  She whirled, unable to believe the evidence of her own eyes. Just when she needed him most, Gideon came running toward her.

  Lydia ran into his arms. “Please! You don’t know him like I do. He’ll do anything in his power to get what he wants. You’ve got to warn everyone. I can ride toward the pass and head him off. As soon as he sees me—” she sobbed, panic twining in her chest like a living thing “—I can stall him for a few minutes while you get the women to safety. T-take them into the mine, or have them run out of town. P-please.”

  To her amazement, Gideon didn’t chastise her. He didn’t blame her for the danger heading toward them. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and issued orders over her head.

  “Greta, Hannah, send the men to the storehouse. We need as many people armed and ready as we can manage.”

  Lydia reared back, gripping his arms. “No. No! That won’t do any good!”

  When Gideon’s gaze met hers, she was shocked to see that it held no recrimination. Instead, his coffee-brown eyes swirled with a curious mixture of warmth, urgency and a fierce protectiveness.

  “We can hold them off, Lydia. A good number of these men are veterans. They can handle a wea—”

  “There’s no bullets!”

  Gideon stopped in midsentence, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

  “What?”

  “You won’t find any bullets in the storehouse! We emptied all of the boxes and crates and took the ammunition back to the Dovecote. It’s hidden in several dozen trunks all over the dormitory!”

  Gideon made a sound that was half laugh, half strangled moan. Then his eyes swept the town.

  “Get the weapons anyway. I want men stationed in every doorway, at every alleyway, on every rooftop. But keep out of sight.” He grasped Lydia’s arms. “How many women are here in town?”

  She scrambled to think.

  “A-about thirty, I’d say.”

  His grip tightened ever so slightly and he said, “Do you think you could get the ladies to the Dovecote without being seen?”

  She thought of the tall stands of pine and aspen that surrounded the Dovecote. “I think so, yes.”

  “Go the long way there, down by the riverbank, so that you won’t be seen from the roads. They’ll have a spotter watching the town soon, if they haven’t already. Bring as much ammunition back as you can carry and take it to the cook shack. I’ll have men waiting there to redistribute it to everyone with a weapon. Can you do that?”

  “Yes. Yes, we can do that!” She pointed to Greta. “Get the women from the infirmary. Hannah and I will round up those in the store and the barbershop and the cook shack.”

  “Jawohl!”

  Lydia broke free from Gideon and dashed across the street.

  “Lydia!”

  She glanced over her shoulder at Gideon’s call.

  “Be careful, you hear me? I don’t want to hear that anyone’s been hurt, least of all you!”

  He regarded her so intently, so fiercely, that a warmth ignited in her chest. The thinly veiled message was clear, and yet, incredible.

  Gideon Gault cared about her safety.

  He cared about her.

  Despite all the trouble she’d given him.

  “The same goes for you,” she said back, hoping that he understood. Please, Lord, let an inkling of what she felt for this man be transmitted in their seemingly innocent exchange.

  “After this, you and I are going to talk,” Gideon added, his tone filled with warning.

  The words should have filled her with dread, but she felt a tingling anticipation instead. “Yes. We’ll talk.”

  “Lydia!”

  She turned to find Hannah watching her impatiently.

  Knowing that they didn’t have time to waste, Lydia tucked away the thought of her short exchange with Gideon.

  Later.

  Later, she would pull out the memory from every angle, examine it minutely, polish each tantalizing detail.

  But right now, she needed to help protect this town.

  Her town.

  In that instant, as she raced to the company store, she suddenly understood what the other women had been fighting so hard to retain.

  This was their home.

  Their home.

  And no one was going to take it from them, least of all Lydia’s father.

  * * *

  That moment, when Gideon was forced to turn his back on Lydia and start organizing the men, was one of the hardest that he had ever experienced in his li
fetime. It took every ounce of his control not to rush toward her, sweep her off her feet, and carry her away to some hidey-hole where she would be safe until this confrontation was over.

  But he didn’t have the time to surrender to his own emotions. Not when so many lives and the future of the mine itself was at stake. They needed that ammunition to protect themselves and the livelihood of the community. If people were hurt—killed—and the cache of silver stolen, it would take years for the mining company to recoup its losses. Which meant that hundreds of men could be laid off, and their families could go hungry.

  No.

  That wasn’t going to happen. Not on his watch. He may have given the women too much lead in the last few weeks, but he knew how to do his job. He’d been an officer in battle, and the old instincts were stirring quick and strong. As the men poured from the buildings, he began assigning them to groups, each with an area of town to defend, a commander, and a runner. The runners were immediately sent to the cook shack. As soon as the ammunition arrived, they would start ferrying it to their groups. The rest of them would gather their weapons from the storehouse and get into position.

  “How are things going?” Jonah asked, breathing hard from his run to the mine. Behind him, men funneled out of the yawning entrance, carrying pickaxes and shovels and mallets—anything at all from their tools that could be used as weapons.

  “Take half of your group to the warehouse,” Gideon ordered. “Tell them to be inside the shed and ready to defend that silver with anything they’ve got. As soon as I have more men with weapons and ammunition, I’ll post them outside the building and on the roof.”

  Jonah nodded. “What about the rest?”

  “Outfit them with rifles and send them back to the mine. I want a good half-dozen men at the mouth of each tunnel. I don’t want Clinton Tomlinson thinking he can force our hand by destroying the passageways or the equipment.”

  “You’ve got it. But what about that infernal cannon they’ve got? We’re powerless to that kind of weaponry.”

  Gideon whirled to point at Marsh. “Keep ringing that bell until you see Charles Wanlass heading down the hill.”