Last Chance Wife

by Janette Foreman

  Her thoughts flashed to Mr. Ansell and attacks of another nature—instead of aiming at her life, he’d aimed at her heart. Determined to explode it into a heap of splinters.

  “I say, Winnie, wait!”

  Her former mail-order prospect had chased after her all the way back to the stagecoach depot—and had had the gall to use her Christian name.

  Might as well have used something entirely intimate, like darling or dear, cookie or muffin. Except she was no one’s muffin, least of all Mr. Ansell’s.

  He had spoken as if he’d had a right to her. As if her very presence in Dakota Territory made her belong to him—and that leaving town only fifteen minutes after meeting him had been the crime... instead of the real problem, his cowardly approach to matrimony.

  Tears pricked her eyes. So many dreams had been shattered in those fifteen minutes.

  “You said yourself that you’ve ruined every match you’ve been given” he’d said. How dare he twist her words? And after she’d poured her heart out to him in her letters! She hadn’t ruined every prospect. Only three of them. And the last one being a married man was not her fault.

  “A woman ordered on six separate occasions? No one else will ever want someone like you.” He’d pelted her with those words like the stoning of Stephen—and they had haunted her ever since.

  This time, this time the arrangement should have worked. She’d done everything right, asked the right questions and answered his honestly. She hadn’t been so overly eager to make it work that she’d sugarcoated her situation. How had she not seen the catastrophe coming before she’d gone to Spearfish?

  Nibbling on her fingernail, she realized the truth stared her in the face as boldly as the sun glared into the eyes of someone exiting a cave. Except, instead of blinding her like the sun, the truth made her see her life for what it really was.

  Six times mail ordered. Never once a bride.

  Who would ever take a chance on someone like that?

  Ewan’s hand touched hers, and she jumped. Before she knew what had happened, his fingers encircled hers, clasping tight, as the barricaded tunnel faded into the darkness behind them.

  It was almost as if he’d read her mind, sensed the tension rising inside her. Except holding his hand wasn’t doing much in the way of calming her down. She needed to turn her mind to something else, lest she fool herself into believing something substantial could bloom from this hand holding.

  “So what’s this surprise you wanted to show me?”

  The lantern light threw their shadows on the wooden walls. She heard him chuckle softly. “Not telling yet.”

  She fought back a smile. So mean.

  As he led her along, she noticed the rare sight of easy roundness in his shoulders instead of his usual rigid corners. He was finally showing signs of peace and happiness—the teasing, the chuckling. Could he have possibly turned a corner in his mood?

  She glanced at their hands, unable to ignore the tingle in her stomach. Since he’d saved her from the cave-in, had they turned a corner together, too?

  “This drift here,” he said, veering left. “It’s new, just built this week, so it’s not terribly long yet.” His voice, holding promise, echoed in the quiet. “It’s actually near the edge of our property line, so I’m thankful it isn’t a few yards farther to the north.”

  “Thankful what isn’t farther to the north?” She stumbled a bit on a fallen shard of rock, then righted herself.

  Ewan paused to catch her against the sturdiness of his arm. “This. Right up here.”

  His voice came hushed, like a soft touch against her cheeks. Then he lifted his lantern to illuminate an open area, like a small cave. Swirls along the stone, both smooth and jagged, caught her eye. White and gray and...

  “Gold!” Winifred’s eyes widened. Swirls of glittering gold caught fire, reflecting the lantern light. It shone with elegant beauty unmatched by the most priceless jewelry she could imagine.

  “And judging by the quartz deposit here—” Ewan let go of her hand to draw an arch along the wall “—there should be a whole lot more where this gold came from. Patterns like this are called a lead, meaning it’ll lead us straight to the mother lode.”

  Her heart began to patter faster. She stepped close and placed her hand on the cold stone. “I can’t believe it. We’re saved!”

  “Well...” Ewan shrugged a shoulder. “I hope so, but there’s no telling exactly how much is in here.”

  Oh, this realist of a man. Winifred nearly rolled her eyes. “But if it produces the amount you suspect?” she prompted. “Would that be enough to save us?”

  “We’d still have to curb our mysterious costs...” In the dim light, his mouth twitched at the corners. “But possibly so, yes.”

  A thrill shot down her arms. She gripped her hands to keep from clapping, but it only lasted a few seconds before she applauded full force. And squealed. They were saved! The Golden Star could remain open, and everyone could keep their jobs.

  She threw her arms around Ewan’s torso, jumping up and down. Stiff at first, Ewan moved with her. A laugh surfaced from within him, and she joined in. Thank the Lord, they would get to keep the mine!

  As their laughter faded, so did their dance—until they stood motionless in the semidarkness. But even stopped, Winifred couldn’t drop her arms. “Can we still have the store’s party?” The question sounded more breathless than she’d meant.

  His free hand cupped her back. Orange light flickered in his eyes and shadowed a portion of his face as he stared down at her. “Of course. We have more reasons to celebrate now than ever.”

  The fabric of his suit jacket caressed her fingertips. Did she dare let go? Or worse, did she dare hold on?

  Ewan searched her eyes. What did he see there? His chest rose and fell beneath her chin. Flutters moved through her middle. He tilted his face down toward hers.

  Distant laughter echoed from the tunnel entrance. Gasping in air, Winifred spun her body away from Ewan’s, pretending to stare at the swirls of quartz. More candlelight filled the stope, and as men’s voices grew louder, she was thankful the unsteady light would hide her burning cheeks.

  “Hey, boss,” one said. “Showing off the mother lode, huh?”

  Winifred closed her eyes, as if she’d been caught doing something bad. Had she?

  “Can’t wait to get this stuff to the mill,” the other miner piped up. Farther into the stope, he dropped mining supplies with a series of loud clangs—chisels, hammers. Other things. So opposite of the peaceful quiet that had enchanted her earlier. “Pretty amazing, ain’t it?”

  Winifred threw Ewan a glance. In the few moments since their interruption, he hadn’t moved. Like he’d been carved from the very pocket of quartz he’d shown her. The only sign of life was the slight rise and fall of his chest in the light.

  “Amazing, yes.” He raised his eyes, connecting his gaze with hers, and her breath caught.

  It felt exactly like the mysterious emotion that had coursed through her veins when Ewan touched her face and called her Win. A heady joy that stopped up her lungs and nearly brought her to tears. So overwhelming, she ached to run away. What sort of feeling was this? Warm and good, yes, and certainly unlike anything she’d felt before...but was it real and would it last? Did she dare take the time to define it for her heart?

  Because if whatever this was betrayed her, she didn’t know what she’d do.

  * * *

  They left the mine in silence, moving down the hill as the sun rose over the Black Hills horizon. Though the mountain ranges around Denver were beautiful, there was something quaint and unique about the way these hills dipped, the way the craggy rock faces jutted from the grass and trees. Ewan had never seen anything quite so breathtaking.

  Not that he’d truly regained his breath since spending a few moments alone in the dark with Winifred.
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br />   As they reached the larger rocks at the base of the outcropping, he lifted his hand to her. He didn’t speak. Thankfully, neither did she. Instead, she simply accepted his help, using his hand to balance her as she climbed to the grass waiting below.

  Oranges and reds, yellows and purples splashed across the sky. The clouds suggested rain, or maybe snow. Oh, hopefully not snow. But October had certainly come to the Black Hills. Most of the leaves had fallen from the aspen that intermingled with the ponderosa pine. A crispness bit at the tips of his ears as they crossed the grass toward the store and offices.

  Some distance hung between them. Part of him wanted to close that gap, while the sensible part wanted to leave it wide-open, broad enough for a winter gale to rush through. It was dangerous to analyze her further—because of what he might find. If he found a link that connected his heart to hers, he’d be in a world of trouble. For one thing, she surely had enough fare money by now. He wouldn’t be surprised one bit if she left after the store’s celebration. And if he opened his heart, where would that leave him once she was gone?

  “Your mind seems to be full,” Winifred murmured.

  Ewan dipped his chin. “Sorry about that. I was just...” Just what? Realizing that this woman had come to mean more to him than he’d ever wanted?

  Winifred shivered. “Chilly morning, isn’t it? Winter is around the corner.”

  “Yes, it is,” he replied, thankful for the change in topic. “And only a couple more months before Mr. Johns comes.”

  “The mother lode will certainly impress him.” She beamed up at him, her smile filling him with unbidden warmth. He managed a small smile, then looked away.

  “I’ve been praying, searching for a solution to keep things running.” This lead was necessary to make this place—to make himself—a success, and it’d finally happened. Dared he hope that this was God showing favor on Ewan’s endeavors?

  TD would be so proud.

  Frowning a little, Ewan dropped his gaze to the ground, sidestepping a rock and rubbing his hands down his trousers. He glanced at the woman walking beside him. He had a desire just as strong to share this victory with Winifred as he did with his mystery friend. Alarming, to say the least. Where did that leave him, desiring to share his joy with a pair of women he could never have? The person he should be excited to share this news with was his father—a father who didn’t yet recognize his son’s accomplishments. Maybe this vein of gold would remedy that problem, too.

  “Thank you for showing me the gold.” Winifred broke into his thoughts.

  She smiled, the lines of her mouth soft and kind. Ewan dragged his gaze away from her and opened the door. If it was the last thing he’d do, he would forget the urge he felt to kiss Winifred Sattler. What a close call he’d had in the cave! He had almost succumbed to the desire, and that would have been the worst thing he could have possibly done.

  “You are welcome.” He allowed her to step in ahead of him. When he shut out the rising sun, the darkened hallway met them, lit only a little by small windows around the corner. “I’ll walk you to the kitchen,” he murmured, taking a step forward, occupying his hands by crossing his arms.

  “You know,” she began, “once some of that vein is processed, you’ll likely have the money to fix the broken platform. And the cam.”

  “And the collapsed drift columns.”

  “I’m so glad, Ewan.” She looked up at him then, touching his bicep with her hand. “And we’ll catch whoever is sabotaging the mine. I promise.”

  Though he couldn’t see the full shape of her eyes in the dim light, he knew by the tone of her voice that she stared at him in earnest. Everything she did was with that same sense of urgency and emotion. Which often led to putting the cart before the horse, getting herself in a world of trouble. But even so, her heart always seemed to be in the right place—in helping others reach their potential.

  She was different than Marilee in that way. His former fiancée had only cared about herself—that was clear to him now. It was not her vivacious personality that was to blame, but rather her cold and indifferent heart—a fault that could never be ascribed to Winifred Sattler. But he still couldn’t allow himself to fall for a woman who flitted around like a hummingbird from flower to flower. Mission to mission. Always busy but not always steady.

  And he was coming dangerously close to falling for her anyway.

  Had she felt it, too? The pulsing shock to the system when they’d stood in the cave, as close as they stood now? Pushing the moment aside, he reached for the kitchen doorknob. “Have a good day, then.”

  Hesitating, she finally nodded. “Yes. You, too.”

  He turned the knob and opened the door, allowing the kitchen’s light to fill the corridor. Leaning in, he nodded to the cook, who stirred a pot on the stove. “I’ll breakfast in my office this morning, Cassandra. Thank you.” And at home tonight. Surely he could find a crust of bread in his bare cupboards to tide him over.

  Leaving the women, Ewan marched down the hall, then stepped back into the morning air and breathed in its crisp bite, praying the late-autumn temperature would break the spell he was under.

  Spending time with Winifred lately had made him want to believe. Believe that simply because she wasn’t like Marilee, she wouldn’t someday hurt him. But logic told him otherwise, and the reminder solidified within him his reasoning for seeking a serious wife. A dependable woman, who cared deeply for loyalty and put her heart in the work of the mine. He didn’t care one iota if she was beautiful, or had a warm smile, or even if she enjoyed laughing. Those things wouldn’t keep a business fortified. They were only good for breaking hearts.

  TD had told him she wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship. But after they’d sent so many letters, would she possibly change her mind?

  She seemed stable and consistent. Even helpful and undeniably understanding of Ewan to his core. What would she be like in person? She wished men would consider their actions before pursuing women like a game. Well, he’d stopped and considered the possibility until a chill ran down his spine—and it wasn’t from the cold.

  He gripped his hands into fists and released them as he mulled over the most exciting, and scary, thought he’d had in years.

  What would happen if he asked TD to meet?

  Chapter Twelve

  Meet Mr. Businessman?

  Oh, dear. Winifred’s hands trembled as she refolded the letter and shoved it beneath her pillow. This circumstance hadn’t even crossed her mind up to now. How could he possibly want to meet, after she told him specifically that she wasn’t interested in a relationship?

  Which was a lie now, wasn’t it? It might have been the truth starting out, but with every new letter, her opinion had shifted. She wanted to meet him more than doing just about anything else. But she hadn’t seriously thought it would happen. Could she do it?

  Letting out a shaky breath, she left the empty kitchen, tying her sash and listening to her heels clicking down the hallway toward the party starting in the store. This was a decision she’d have to make later. Right now, everyone had congregated with their arriving guests, and she was late.

  When she entered, she stopped short at all the patrons flooding the room.

  Homemade decorations hung in swags from the windows and shelves. A sign for a guessing contest had been set up in the corner—how many pencils had been stuffed into a jar? The winner would receive five pieces of hard candy for free. Laughter poured from her right and conversation from her left. Granna Cass carried around a tray of gingersnap cookies pulled from the oven an hour ago. Soon Winifred would join her in offering refreshments. A few customers Winifred recognized had come with their spouses. Several others she didn’t recognize walked through, though she hoped they’d be frequent customers now.

  But who really caught her attention was Ewan. Proud and confident, he stood at the entrance like the
host he was, greeting each guest with a smile and a friendly handshake. In the last week, he’d surprised her. Where she thought stood a stern, grumpy business owner was now a passionate, caring man instead—with a hint of humor in his words and a whole lot of heart for people. She had never seen someone work so hard and agonize so deeply over the well-being of others—but all of that had been true from the start. The change now was that the new vein seemed to release his fixation on keeping the mine out of the wrong hands and shift his focus to how to make it grow.

  “Isn’t this fun?” Delia came alongside Winifred, a cookie in hand. “And your drawings are selling best out of anything.”

  “Truly?”

  “Yep. I guess people like pictures of their town.”

  In the days leading up to the grand bazaar, Winifred had walked around Deadwood with her sketchbook in hand. Whenever she spotted something worthwhile, she stopped and captured it. Children playing in front of a store. Old miners resting out of the sun, stems of wheat poking from their weathered lips. Well-loved establishments like churches and the post office. Maybe Delia was right about people wanting pictures of where, and with whom, they spent their time.

  She looked up as a young family stepped inside. Ewan shook hands with the father before squatting to shake the hand of each small boy. His brows rose as he asked them questions she couldn’t hear from this distance. The boys laughed, fully entranced by whatever he had to say. She watched as he slipped from his suit coat pocket two pieces of hard candy. Grins wide, the boys accepted the gifts and popped them straight into their mouths. Then, like lightning, they bolted across the room to the guessing table to cast their votes, apparently in hopes of more of the candy they’d sampled.

  Ewan caught her eye. One side of his mouth lifted before he turned back to another arriving guest.

  Something about that smile did strange things to her stomach.