The Halsey Brothers Series

by Paty Jager

  Taking a deep breath, she blew her nose and stopped the tears. She’d come out of this experience stronger. No one would ever get close to her, again. Having her heart broke twice was more than enough.

  “Ma’am, would you please come with me?” The conductor stood beside her seat.

  She looked around. There was no one else in the car. “Why?”

  “We need to clear the car.” The seriousness in his voice and the way his eyes darted to the exit made her nervous.

  “Is there something wrong with the railcar?”

  “That’s what we need to determine, ma’am.” He held out a hand to help her stand.

  She clutched her reticule and scanned the area outside the window. There didn’t appear to be anyone she would bump into and have to explain why she hadn’t been teaching and why she was on a train.

  “Very well.” She stood and followed the conductor to the door. At the top of the steps, she stopped. Why was a crowd gathered by the station house watching the car she exited?

  “Maeve, we need to talk.” The familiar voice jarred her from her thoughts. She looked down at a man dressed in a black wool suit. He held a bouquet of flowers and derby hat in one hand. The dark eyes were wary and the half smile, on lips she remembered so well, tilted in an apologetic smile.

  “I’m not sure we have anything to say.” Her heart rapped against her chest like a bird trying to escape. Her gloved fingers clutched her skirt as she held his gaze.

  “Just hear me out, please?” He reached a hand up to her, his gaze remained locked with hers.

  She wanted to take the hand, wanted to believe he was sorry for leaving. Glancing beyond him, she recognized her mother, Aunt Geraldine, the Halsey brothers, Darcy with a bundle in her arms, Darcy’s brother, and Mr. Barton. Why were they all standing there grinning?

  “Please, forgive me for my foolishness. I love you and have been kicking myself every day—no, every hour—that I left you at Monument.” Zeke climbed the steps and offered the flowers. “I promise to never leave your side if you’ll do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

  “Zeke…I—” She wanted to move into his arms and give him the answer he sought. But would he truly be able to keep his promise?

  “What will it take to make you my wife?” The fear and love in his eyes brought a lump to her throat.

  “A promise kept.”

  He flinched.

  Her heart fluttered. He regretted his actions.

  “Maeve, I’m so sorry.” Zeke took her hand. “I was selfish. All I could think was to spare myself. I didn’t take into consideration the ache I’ve had every minute since I left you.” He trailed a finger down the side of her face. “Or the hurt I caused you. I broke a promise I’d made to you from the beginning of our courtship. One which you finally believed.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  “Zeke,I—”

  “Shh. Don’t say anything. Think about you and me. The life we can have as Pinkerton Agents.” He held her hand. The warmth and security his touch brought wrapped around her, protecting her.

  She searched his eyes. “What about the mine, your family?”

  “Ethan’s already cooking up something to make us money without me having to be here.” Zeke raised her hand to his lips. “What do you say? Will you marry me?”

  “Really?” This couldn’t be happening. She’d dreamed he’d find her, but upon waking had faced the truth. She held her breath.

  “Yes, we’re going to get married and enter the Pinkertons as husband and wife. Barton said if we’re already married we’ll get assignments that require two operatives.”

  She studied his handsome face. He meant every word. Married and joining the Pinkertons.

  “That is if you’ll accept my proposal.” Zeke held his breath. He knew how deeply he’d hurt Maeve. It wouldn’t surprise him to have her turn him down. He deserved it for the way he ran out on her. She may think him capable of doing it again.

  Her head barely nodded, and a small smile raised the corners of her mouth. “I accept.”

  Air whooshed out of him. He swept her up into his arms. “I promise I will always be there for you as a husband and a partner.”

  “What made you change your mind? I mean about seeing me in danger.”

  He looked over at the group watching and waiting. “As much as seeing you in danger nearly killed me, I couldn’t function without you. Ethan, Hank, Clay, and even Barton raked me up one side and down the other for walking out on you. And for walking out on a love a man only finds once.”

  “Are we ready? The train needs to leave in fifteen minutes,” The conductor said, standing at the foot of the steps.

  “Come on.” He swept Maeve up in his arms and descended the steps.

  “But the train and Chicago are that way.” Maeve pointed behind them.

  “But the preacher and the wedding are this way.” He smiled at the surprise and delight in her eyes.

  “How did you know I’d say yes?” she teased.

  “I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to be prepared.” He placed her on her feet in front of the preacher. Their family and friends gathered behind them.

  Maeve held the bouquet and recited the words Zeke had been dreaming since the day he fell for her.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The preacher shut his Bible and smiled at him. “You may kiss the bride.”

  He gathered his wife into his arms. Her shining eyes and smile fused his heart to hers.

  “I love you,” she whispered and placed her lips on his.

  He’d longed for her to say those words. The force of their meaning reverberated to his heart. “I promise you won’t ever see me walk away from you, again.”

  “That’s good, because I won’t let you.”

  Miner in Petticoats

  Halsey Brother Series

  Paty Jager

  Windtree Press

  Beaverton, OR

  1

  Dedication

  To my fans who asked for more…This is for you!

  3

  Acknowledgement

  While there is a Cracker Creek outside of Sumpter, Oregon and there was mining up and down the creek, there was not a Cracker Creek Stamp Mill.

  Miner in Petticoats

  Chapter 1

  Sumpter, Oregon

  1889

  “Have you lost what little sense you had?”

  Ethan Halsey focused his gaze from the map spread across the table to his younger brother. “I’ve had more sense than you for a long time, Clay.”

  “Not if you think you can just walk up to that husband-killer and kindly ask to purchase her land!” Clay shot out of the chair, knocking it over, pacing two steps and back again.

  “Why are you calling the Widow Miller a husband killer? That’s not too neighborly of you, especially when we want to purchase some of her land.” His grown brother acting like a boy who saw a ghost was too good not to tease. Ethan let loose a rib-shattering, belly laugh. He hadn’t seen Clay so worked up in a long time.

  “Knock it off. This ain’t something to laugh about. I heard Judd Loudeman tell how they found Mr. Miller with his head bashed in layin’ in front of his mine. And how the wife and boy weren’t seen for weeks after.”

  “All that tells me is they were scared and hiding.” Ethan rolled up the map. “I traipsed over the ridges and canyons in a five mile section. The slope with Cracker Creek running at a good clip in that corner of their property is where we’re going to build a stamp mill.” He stood, placed the map on the front window ledge, and faced his brother. “I made a promise when Ma and Pa died to make sure you and the others are taken care of.” And Lord, he would never take on the responsibility of another family again. “I also promised the miners around here we could provide a way for them to squeeze more gold out of their claims.” He crossed his arms and stared at Clay. “Have you known me to ever squelch on my word?”

  “No, but I’m telling you, that widow ain’t none too friendly.
” Clay filled a cup for himself and clanked the coffee pot down on the potbellied stove.

  Ethan raised an eyebrow at his brother’s unnatural selfishness. He strode across the small cabin and poured himself a cup. “You seem to know a lot about this woman. Maybe you should be the one to make her the offer?”

  Clay spewed coffee across the room, missing Ethan by all but two drops. “I’m not setting foot on her land. Miles said she’s marked by the devil.”

  “Since when have you given a dime about anything that no-account Miles Osborne had to say?” Ethan was fed up with all the bad-mouthing of a woman neither one of them had met. Miles had been making up stories to get attention since they were boys.

  “He said her bonnet blew off one time when she was in town, and her face has dark markings. He said it was the devil’s mark.”

  “I say again, since when was anything Miles had to say worth listening to? And how would he know the devil’s markings? He been keeping time with the fellow?” Ethan sat at the table and pointed to the chair across from him.

  “Clay, you’re four years younger than me. I would say that makes you a mite old to be going around believing everything you hear. You’re also old enough to know better than to badmouth someone you haven’t met.” Ethan took a sip of coffee, never taking his eyes off his brother. It was something he learned twelve years ago, when the sudden death of his parents left him in charge of four younger brothers. Always look them in the eyes and never back down. Of course being the tallest at six-five and the broadest helped too, but eye contact always made them buckle under to his way of thinking.

  His brother bowed his head and stared into his coffee cup. “Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t let what other people think influence me.” He looked up. “Kind of like Maeve. From all the mush Zeke always spouted, I expected some soft, doe-eyed schoolmarm. Instead, she’s a prickly, sharpshooter with more spit than polish.” He laughed at the picture he painted of his new sister-in-law. Ethan joined the laughter.

  “Zeke definitely met his match in that one.” Ethan cocked his head listening to the approaching horses. “That should be Hank with the miners who’ll profit from our stamp mill.”

  Clay smiled. “This is one time, big brother, when I think you finally found a way for Pa’s claim to make a handsome profit.”

  “That’s the plan. Come on, let’s talk to them outside where there’s more room.” It would be impossible to discuss the stamp mill in the one room cabin. Clay, Hank, and himself barely had room to turn around when all three were inside.

  Clay headed out the door. Ethan took one more sip of coffee, grabbed the map off the window sill, and headed out to see how many of their neighbors were willing to pitch in some money and labor to make the Cracker Creek Stamp Mill a reality.

  ****

  Aileen Miller plucked the oversized straw hat from her head and wiped the sleeve of her shirt across her brow. She’d dug at the side of the mine since breakfast. All she had to show for it was a couple buckets of rubble. Fresh air and the gurgle of the stream beckoned. She leaned the pick against the side of the cave and reached down to catch the rope handles of the buckets in her hands.

  “Momma! Momma! Colin won’t he’p me!”

  “Stay put, lassie. Ah’m comin’ out.” Aileen called to her four-year-old daughter and gem of her heart. “Nae need for yetocome in this bloody tunnel.”

  She ducked and stepped out of the cave opening. The sunshine warmed her face as she took a deep breath of the clean air. Small arms wrapped around her legs. She looked down, taking in the angelic face of her darlin’ Shayla.

  “Where be the laddie?” she asked, scanning the area for her twelve-year-old son. Where Shayla was her gem, Colin was her soul. He came from the seed of a man she loved with her whole being. She nearly died the evening her father came and told her he’d been killed. There were times when she and the laddie communicated without speaking. The morning had begun that way, with Colin quietly taking the pick and heading for the mine without her so much as saying: “Today, we’ll work in the mine.” When the area became too small for the two to work, he’d just as quietly left the confines.

  “He’s pannin’.” Shayla tugged on the bucket Aileen had yet to set down. As the child spoke, she spotted her red-haired son.

  “Aye, so he is. And why are ye pesterin’ him?” She packed the buckets down to the sluice box and dumped the contents into the top level of the wooden boxes. Shayla followed alongside, dragging her feet.

  “I’m hungry. I asked him to he’p make a sammich.” The dark-haired angel extended her lower lip and placed her hands behind her back.

  Aileen laughed and patted Shayla’s dark curls. “Let’s find a bite for yer wee tummy.” She held out her hand and clasped the small fingers in hers. “Colin! Come laddie, a body cannae work on an empty stomach!”

  He nodded, and stopped sloshing water over the side of the pan. He placed the pan on the ground careful to not lose any of the trailings. When he stood, her heart lurched. Each day he became more and more like his da— a man who voiced his concerns and worked to better his and his neighbor’s plight. Aye, Patrick, if only ye could see yer bonnie laddie.

  Tears burned the back of her eyes. Aileen tugged on Shayla and headed to the cabin. Colin had a way of knowing when she felt lonely or sad. She didn’t want to spoil his day with her longing for something that would never be again.

  “’Tis a good thing we baked bread yesterday or yer belly would be whinin’ as much as ye,” Aileen tweaked her daughter’s nose and patted her backside. “Wash yer hands and fetch a jar o’ preserves from the lean-to.”

  When Shayla finished washing, Aileen leaned down, submersing her hands and arms into the bucket. She scrubbed the sweat and dirt from her skin. It had been a month since she’d had a good soaking. Her body carried the stench of her labors. If they planned to get supplies at the store tomorrow, today would be a good day to take a bar of soap down to the creek and clean up.

  Colin stopped beside her, waiting for his turn to wash. “There’s my laddie.” She kissed the top of his head and wrinkled her nose. “We’ll all hike down the creek this evenin’ and give us a wash.”

  His green eyes narrowed slightly. “This mean we’re going to town tomorrow?” The disinterest in his voice didn’t fool Aileen. Colin disliked going to town, yet refused to let she and Shayla go alone.

  “We need supplies. I know ye didnae like to go, but we need to eat, and there’s gold that needs to be exchanged.”

  “I know. I just don’t like what the people say about us.” He shoved his fists into the water, sloshing the contents down his legs and over his boots.

  She ruffled his hair and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Ye are so much like yer da. Ye go against what ye feel to do what is right. If only that day he wouldn’t have gone with his feelings and not been goaded…” Tears burned her eyes, and she ducked into the cabin. If only Patrick hadn’t felt the need to stand up to the English, he’d be beside her today.

  The one window allowed only a small amount of light through. She left the door open for more light and air. No matter how much she cleaned the house, she couldn’t get rid of the stench of her second husband. He’d lived in the cabin before the marriage and peed in a corner when he drank, which happened to be every day.

  They fought over the drinking and the habit. She eventually won, but the house reeked, and the reminder of him made it hard to sleep most nights. She preferred the outdoors and did only the necessary indoor living. Even in the bitter cold of winter, they all preferred to work in the mine to being shut in the house with all its reminders.

  She grabbed the bread, knife, a board to cut on, and carried the lot out to the small, covered porch. They spent most meals gazing at the babbling creek and staring up the other side of the tree-covered canyon.

  Colin took the board and knife, placing them on a log they used as a table. Since they spent this time of year on the porch, their chairs already waited for them. Shayla returned with
the preserves and her usual smile.

  Aileen sliced the bread and spread the preserves, handing a slice to each child.

  “Ma, ain’t you gonna eat?” Colin asked his eyes rebuking her even if his words didn’t.

  “In a minute, someone’s coming down the hill.” She tugged the floppy straw hat down to her ears to hide her face, and stood. The slow approach of the horse and rider felt like a bomb ticking. They had few visitors and never anyone alone. Not since the death of Mr. Miller.

  Chapter 2

  Ethan kept the horse at a leisurely pace. He didn’t believe the trio under the porch roof would shoot him, but the things Clay and the other men said when they found out who he was headed to talk to, niggled in the back of his mind. There was nothing cowardly about being cautious. Even if all he saw was a child, a young boy, and a tall, sturdy woman dressed in men’s clothing.

  The clothing didn’t bother him. The other men had made mention of how the widow woman wore the dead husband’s clothes. Both his sisters-in-law wore britches as much as they did dresses. They allowed it made riding and working outside easier. If the widow worked the claim, she needed to wear practical clothes. And her dead husband’s would be handy and free.

  He stopped his horse near a tree and dismounted, wrapping the reins around a limb.

  “Afternoon,” he called, sauntering toward a cabin smaller than the one he shared with his brothers. The only difference between the two structures was the state of disrepair and the lean-to in the back.

  The woman nodded, but didn’t say anything. None of them appeared hostile. The boy stared blankly. The little girl’s grin was infectious, and he found himself grinning back at her. He pulled his attention from the curly-haired imp to study the woman. She was tall. Not near his height, but she had to be gaining on six foot. The men’s clothing she wore did nothing to hide her attributes. The pants clung to her wide, round hips, and her full breasts gave the buttons on her shirt a working.