The Halsey Brothers Series

by Paty Jager

  “Mrs. Miller?” he asked, extending his hand. She kept her head tipped forward just enough her face was shadowed and hidden behind the brim of the hat.

  “Who be askin’?” Her voice caught his attention with its deep, lyrical tone.

  “I’m Ethan Halsey. My brothers and I have a claim just over the ridge.” It aggravated him he couldn’t see her face and register how she took his words.

  “Are ye lost?” The voice vibrated under his skin, causing his body to warm.

  He cleared his throat. “No, I’m not lost. I’m looking for Mrs. Miller. I’m assuming that is you, since you’re the only grown woman I see here.”

  “Ah m Aileen. Ah don’t fancy bein’ called Mrs. Miller.”

  This disclosure piqued his curiosity. “Mrs—Aileen. I’ve come with an offer.” Her head tilted, tipping the wide-brimmed hat to the side and revealing a slip of her face.

  “And what may this grand offer be?” He saw the slightest curve on one side of her lips.

  “Ma’am, not to sound bossy, but I’d like to see your face as we discuss this proposition.” Her shoulders dipped slightly before she squared them, stretched her neck to its full length, and whipped the hat from her head. Copper sparks reflected off her hair as the sun lit her dark locks.

  Ethan hadn’t believed the words of a cowardly man like Miles, and he was happy to see there wasn’t any kind of mark on the woman’s face, at least none put there by the devil. Her skin was abundantly sprinkled with angel kisses. That was what his mother had called the freckles on her face. Angel kisses. He’d always had a fondness for freckle-faced women and children.

  “Thank you, I appreciate seeing people’s eyes when talking business.” Ethan took a step closer to the porch, waiting to be invited to the shade.

  “And what be yer business?” The woman didn’t seem inclined to invite him any closer.

  “I’ve scouted the land all around our claim. The five acres of your land down where Cracker Creek drops in elevation is the perfect spot to set up a stamp mill. The side of the canyon has the right slope and the water is moving fast enough to power the mill.”

  “So yer business is askin’ me to sell my land?” She clamped work-reddened hands onto those ample hips and glared at him.

  “We’d give you a fair price for the five acres, and you could use the stamp mill to claim more gold from your mine.” The information didn’t seem to change her opinion. She still glared at him. “We’re allowing the nearby claims to build rails to bring their ore to the mill. They can use the stamp mill, giving us a small cut of their profits.” He smiled at his family’s generosity.

  “So ye’re doin’ this out o’ the goodness o’ yer heart? Takin’ yer neighbor’s land and their gold.” Her light green eyes flashed with indignation.

  Was she mocking him? “No, we’re not doing this out of the goodness of our hearts. We’re doing it to find more gold in the bedrock and to allow our neighbors the opportunity to find more gold in their claims. And yes, we do feel if we put the money into building the stamp mill, others should pay a fee to use it. At the same time, they’ll be extracting more gold from their claims using the stamp mill than they would by not using it.” Ethan threw his hands in the air. What did it matter if this woman found fault with the stamp mill. All she had to do was sell him the five acres.

  “I’m here to offer you five dollars an acre for your land.”

  The crazy woman burst out laughing. If she hadn’t been finding fault with him, he would have relished the deep richness of the tone.

  “That’s more than fair!”

  “Nae for the land o’ my bairn.” She stood with her hands on her hips in a stance as unmoving as a full grown pine tree.

  “I can’t go any higher than seven dollars an acre,” he growled, not really wanting to spend that much, but he’d set his family’s future on the stamp mill.

  “Ye dinnae be needin’ to. Ah no’ be takin’ yer offer.” She raised a long arm and extended it, pointing down the small valley. “This be the only thin’ Mr. Miller left us o’ value and ah’ll no’ be sellin’ the land. It belongs to my bairn and ye’ll no’ claim one foot o’ it.”

  “Mrs—” She lanced him with a dagger of a look. “Aileen, what if I come back tomorrow with a map and the figures all drawn up?”

  “Ye can come, but ah’ll no’ be changing ma mind. Geroot, Mr. Halsey.”

  Aileen tipped her head toward the man’s horse, hoping he’d get the idea and leave. He was a fine figure of a man. Broad across the chest, taller than most, and his face was no hardship to stare at as they badgered over her land. Nae, she’d never sell a portion of the land. Her family had been pushed out of Scotland and then after marrying an Irishman, an Englishman had killed her husband and taken over their land. She wasn’t about to lose this land. There was no place else for them to go. Not yet anyway.

  However, she wouldn’t mind butting heads with the man again.

  When she removed her hat and he smiled rather than frowned, she nearly smiled herself. A man that didn’t find fault with her discolored, freckled face was a rarity indeed.

  The man acknowledged her farewell, walking to his horse and mounting. “I’ll be back tomorrow with the map.”

  “Ye’ll be talkin’ to yerself then. We’ve a need to visit town tomorrow.” She smiled at his irritation.

  “I’ll be here the following day.”

  She waved her hand and called back, “We’ll be here.” She glanced down at Colin. “But he’ll be talkin’ to deaf ears.” Aileen winked at her son and was rewarded with a smile.

  “Ah’ll be after that sandwich now.” She sat down in her chair and watched the broad back of Mr. Halsey slowly disappear through the trees. She’d not sell any of the three hundred and sixty acres. Not till she had enough money to head back to Ireland and reclaim her son’s legacy. Twenty five dollars and the loss of five acres wouldn’t help her fulfill her commitment to reinstate her son to his da’s lost land.

  When her father pulled her and Colin onto the ship bound for America, she made a vow to bring her son back to the land of his da and fight for the O’Lear land the Englishman took. If they could continue to bring out the same amount of gold each year from the land, they’d have enough to buy that bleeding Englishman, Roderick’s, estate and reclaim it for the O’Lears by the time Colin was of an age to carry on as the master. That was her goal— to have the funds when Colin came of age and return to Ireland, giving her son his father’s legacy.

  “Momma, he had friendly eyes,” Shayla said, breaking into her thoughts.

  “Aye, ye be noticin’ too.” She smiled at her daughter. The lassie had a knack for seeing the good in everyone. And they in return showed her they were worthy of her trust.

  “He was a big man.” The warning in her son’s voice sent shivers down her spine.

  “Aye, he was.” Mr. Miller had been nearer her size and had beat her unconscious more than once. She’d never let a man do that to her again. And to think what kind of damage a man with the hands the size of Mr. Halsey… she shuddered. “We wouldn’t have to worry, Colin. Ah dinnae plan to let any man hurt our family again.”

  Chapter 3

  Ethan couldn’t believe the woman turned his offer down. He saw the small, dilapidated cabin and the crude furniture they sat on. How could she refuse easy money? It didn’t make sense.

  He dismounted and led his horse to the barn.

  “Well, did you get the land?” Clay asked as both he and Hank followed Ethan to the barn. They were both dark haired like all the brothers and built for hard labor.

  “No.” It still rankled the woman dismissed him like he’d asked to take one of her children.

  “I told ya, she was trouble.” Clay stuck his hands in the back pockets of his britches and nodded his head.

  “She really turned down our offer?” Hank shook his head. “I’d a thought she’d jump for the extra money.”

  “Looking at how they live, I was sure she would
take the money. But she’s one stubborn woman.” Ethan unfastened the saddle cinch and set the saddle on the stall railing.

  “Did she look like a killer?”

  Ethan glared at Clay. “What does a killer look like?”

  Clay ducked his head, and Hank laughed, smacking Clay on the back with his hand.

  “She looks like a woman with her hands full. Think I’ll go into town tomorrow and see what Myrle knows about Aileen.” Ethan led the horse to the corral.

  “Aileen? One trip and you’re calling her by her given name?” Hank’s back straightened from his lax stance against a pole and he stared at Ethan.

  “She refused to talk to me if I called her Mrs. Miller.”

  “I told you she killed her husband, and now she don’t want anything to remind her of the deed.” Clay rubbed his hands together, looking like a man about to eat a delicious pie.

  “I didn’t ask her why she prefers to be called by her given name, but I’ll do just about anything to get that land.” It rankled that the woman didn’t realize a good thing and had the power to hold up his plans. Ethan stared at his brothers. “We’ll be building that stamp mill, and it will be running by winter, I guarantee.”

  ****

  Ethan walked up the steps of the only place in Sumpter a person could purchase a meal. It wasn’t a restaurant, only a house in the middle of town with a woman—old enough to be his mother—who cooked for a living. When her husband left her a widow two years after gold was found in the area, she did what she did best—cooked meals for the miners when they brought their ore in to be assayed. That was over twenty years ago. She still did all the cooking, but the last few years she’d recruited other widows to help her out. Giving them a place to stay and a few coins to spend.

  “Ethan, what brings you to Myrle’s? Finally couldn’t stomach any more of Hank’s cooking?”

  Ethan hugged the gray-haired woman, whose head rested against his belly, and chuckled. “That, and I’m in need of information.”

  She pulled out of the embrace and tipped her head back to look at him. “Well, plant yourself in that chair. I’ll bring you some grub, and we can talk.”

  “Sounds good.” Ethan sat at the table Myrle indicated near the kitchen door and smiled at the Widow James, who walked out the door Myrle disappeared through. A bashful smile trembled on the widow’s lips as she poured him a cup of coffee.

  He nodded his thanks to the woman. She tittered and stood staring at him. Ethan shook his head. For some odd reason he addle-patted Mrs. James. She was a good fifteen years his senior, but she acted like she’d jump into his arms if he gave her any indication. Which he never would. He planned to live out the rest of his days single. He didn’t need a wife and kids. He had his brothers and their families to watch over. That was more than enough for any man.

  Myrle returned carrying a plate heaped with eggs, biscuits, and a steak on the side.

  Ethan’s mouth watered as the aroma’s wafted to his nose. “Who else you planning to feed?”

  “You’re a big man with a big appetite. I’ve run this place long enough to know how much fills up a man your size.” Myrle winked at him and sat down. She picked up an empty cup and waved it in the air. Mrs. James rushed over to fill her cup and then hovered.

  Ethan rolled his eyes, and Myrle laughed.

  “Edith, I think Charlotte needs help in the kitchen.” When the woman reluctantly headed to the kitchen, Myrle leaned forward and patted his arm. “The poor dear has her sights on you. But I tell her you’re too much man for her.”

  Ethan spat the coffee he’d just slurped across the table. “That’s mean, even for you Myrle.”

  “What, you don’t think I know what kind of woman you need?”

  “Don’t start that again. I didn’t come here looking for a woman. I’ve told you, I don’t need nor want a wife.”

  “But you do need one, Ethan. You can’t be a bachelor your whole life. It would be a waste. There is so much you’re missing out on not being a husband and a father.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “Didn’t you boys come to me when your ma and pa were taken from you? And didn’t I promise to feed you when times were poor?”

  Ethan nodded. If not for this woman, he and his brothers would have had some pretty slim winters. “I appreciate all you’ve done for the boys and me. Two are married, and I’m sure the other two will find a good woman soon. Don’t worry about me.”

  “And you’ll be all alone in that cabin. What are you going to do then?”

  “Enjoy the peace and quiet. Maybe finally get to the books in Ma’s trunk I’ve wanted to reread.” He thought of the only thing he treasured more than his brothers—the trunk full of his mother’s books. He’d started reading them as a young man, but after he took on the responsibilities of his brothers he hadn’t picked up a book.

  “You could read them to your children.” Myrle patted his hand and stared at him with her rheumy, faded eyes.

  Her words sifted in and swirled around. He liked the idea of sharing the stories with a child curled up in his lap. He shook his head. No. His wants came after Clay and Hank were married and happy, not before. He could read to nieces and nephews.

  “What did you come here to ask me?” Myrle took a sip of her coffee and watched him.

  “What do you know about the Widow Miller?” He chuckled at the way the old woman’s gray eyebrow arched.

  “I thought you weren’t looking for a wife?” Her accusation, sliced through him.

  “I’m not. I have business dealings with the woman, but she’s none too hospitable.”

  Myrle snorted. “No, that one isn’t. What kind of dealings?”

  Ethan told her of the stamp mill. How they could employ up to four men around the clock to keep it running and help the miners around them produce more from their claims. “But I need to purchase five acres of the widow’s land. She informed me yesterday there is no way she’d sell anything to me or anyone else.

  “Seeing how she and her children live, I’d think she could use the extra money. I don’t think her and that scrawny boy are pulling enough gold out of their claim to live proper.”

  Myrle’s expression softened, and she shook her head sadly. “That’s a woman with more grit than ten, I swear. That animal she was married to used to beat her something terrible. When I questioned her, she clammed up and tucked the boy to her side. I wouldn’t doubt the bastard threatened to harm the boy if she said anything.” The woman’s face reddened, and her eyes sparked with outrage. “That oldest is from her first husband. Before Miller started beating her on a regular schedule, she came to town, and we had a couple cups of coffee together.

  “She loved her first husband. You can see it when she talks about him and that boy. She never told me how he ended up dead. Only said her father made her and the boy come to America, but her father died on the trip over. She answered an ad for a wife and ended up married to Miller.”

  “Why does Miles say she killed Miller? Is there truth to that do you think?” Ethan could see the woman swinging a board to protect her children if the man had been beating on them.

  “Miles is an idiot! He tried to spark her a year after Miller was dead. When she laughed in his face, the little rooster started spreading that lie.”

  “Thanks Myrle that gives me a little better idea how to go about getting her to sell.”

  ****

  Aileen held tight to Shayla’s hand. She hated coming to town as much as Colin. The people always stared. The only person to ever give her a smile and a greeting was the widow who fed people out of her home. They passed Myrle’s house as Mr. Halsey and Myrle stepped out onto the porch.

  “Morning, Aileen!” Myrle called and waved. “How about a cup of coffee?”

  Longing to sit with Myrle and chat pulled at her. She missed female conversation or any kind of adult conversation. Aileen glanced down at Shayla grinning like she’d found a new toy. She followed her daughter’s gaze and found Mr. Halsey smiling back at the child. His
gaze shifted from Shayla to her. The humor left his eyes. In its place a darker interest gleamed.

  Colin tugged on her sleeve. “Let’s get the supplies and head home.”

  Aileen sighed. “No’ today, Myrle.” Colin moved down the street, and she followed, afraid to leave him alone. Whenever she did, he seemed to find a fight. She looked back at the woman and man standing on the porch and sighed. Aye, maybe next time she could visit.

  “Ma, I know you like to visit with the widow, but I don’t like the way Shayla cottons to Mr. Halsey.” Colin’s words stopped her feet.

  She grasped Colin’s sleeve and turned him. “What do ye mean?”

  “That’s all she jabbered about yesterday after he left. Big man. Happy man.” He rolled his eyes.

  Shayla stood between them. She grinned. “I like Happy Man. He makes me smile.”

  Aileen shook her head. “Lassie, he’s no’ a man to be friendin’.”

  “Why?” Shayla stuck out her bottom lip, and tears glistened in her eyes.

  Pulling Shayla against her skirts, Aileen gave her a hug. “ ’Cause he wants to take away some o’ our land.”

  “He’s not a bad man.” Shayla pushed out of the embrace and stomped her small foot.

  “Stop blubberin’ and pitchin’ a fit.” Colin grabbed his sister’s arm roughly.

  Aileen pried his hand from Shayla’s arm and stepped between them. “Ye’ll no’ touch a female roughly.” She bent down, making herself eye level. “Ah dinnae care if she has embarrassed ye or made ye mad. Yer da wouldn’t have harmed a female, and ye’ll be like yer da no’ that monster.”

  Colin’s eyes widened before he shuttered his emotions. He jerked from her grasp and ran down the street.

  “Colin! Come back! Colin!” Aileen took a step to follow when a large hand grasped her elbow. She jumped, sucking in air.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get him.” Mr. Halsey ruffled Shayla’s hair before he headed between the two buildings where Colin disappeared.

  Aileen jammed her fists on her hips and watched the man’s long-legged stride carry him away. If he only knew how Colin felt about him, he would think twice afore chasing the boy down.