Blessed Beyond Measure

by Kari Trumbo

  Victor clapped him on the back. His only friend tended to get melancholia rather easily. “Nope. As long as you can keep from swinging at the end of a rope. I think, if you stay here, love will find you.”

  Chapter 5

  Soft voices rose up the stairs as Lenora readied herself for her first day of working with her father. Before they’d left Boston, he’d promised that she could learn from him and help in the office, giving her something to do. There was no telling if he remembered his promise until she went down and asked him. She pushed the last pin in her hair and wandered to the staircase to listen.

  Her father spoke to a man, but she didn’t recognize the voice. Not surprising, since it could be any number of men from the small town, or even her brother. And the voices were so muffled, she couldn’t even tell which was her father.

  Mother turned from the stove and pursed her lips. “Just where do you think you’re going? You’ve got no business wandering about town, especially now that Cort and Victor have other duties.”

  And good riddance…

  She wanted to believe that, but the more he wheedled, the easier it was to listen to the cravings of her wicked heart. “I was only going down to the office. Father said that I might assist him.”

  How she’d dreamed of becoming a lawyer like her father. Geoff had never expressed interest. If they had remained in Boston, she would’ve petitioned Father to go to law school. There was no way to know if California held any schools that would allow a woman to learn, but if there was, she prayed her father would see her desire and send her.

  “And just where does that leave your brother? If anyone should be helping your father with his business, it should be Geoff, not you.”

  She hated to point out that her brother was so angry about father’s choice to hire Victor and Cort, instead of relying on his own son for protection, it had caused a rift that would be difficult to bridge. Geoff’s pride had been sorely hurt. But it would do little good to say anything. Mother would never believe it, anyway.

  “Geoff is out of the house, so if Father wants help, he’ll have to settle for me. If Father should change his mind, I’ll do as he asks.” At least for a day. Geoff wasn’t ready to sit and work through more than a few hours. His temper had taken over and he was often gone from them for days at a time. Not to mention, Mother wouldn’t argue outright with anything Father had said, so Lenora would be allowed to work, for now.

  Her mother had learned how to cook since arriving in California. But even after a few weeks cooking by the fire, she was still preparing food that was suspect. It just further drove home the truth further, that her mother couldn’t possibly be hiding the secrets the respected people of Boston said of her. She had suffered humiliating taunts for her tightly curled black hair, dark as coffee eyes, and skin that had just a hint of olive tone. Lenora had always doubted the rumors because her mother was privy to knowledge that a slave would not have; classic literature and French, and nothing of the domestic, such as cooking.

  It had been rumored that Mother was descended from a house slave who’d pleased her master. As far as Lenora knew, it was all lies, but her mother never spoke about her heritage. The family her mother had fought to stay close to, had never bothered to show up in Boston, nor had they ever gone to visit. Lenora had never met her aunts or uncles, not even her grandparents on her mother’s side of the family.

  Lenora herself had her mother’s thick, dark, curly hair, and her father’s bright blue eyes. Since she was a child, she’d been told that she was striking, but looks were just something that would fade, her mind would not. She was capable and would prove it.

  The thin boards of the stairs creaked under her as she tried to quietly descend them. Interrupting father during business would be a mark against her. As she reached the bottom and finally tore her glance from her feet, Victor Abernathy stood talking with her father. He smiled at her and when her father turned away from Victor to greet her, Victor had the audacity to wink, the cad.

  Her father approached her, and she put on a smile for him. “Good morning, Father. I’ve come down to assist you. Perhaps you could show me the work you do with Mr. Abernathy?”

  Victor’s eyes twinkled at her and she made it a point to avoid his gaze further.

  “I would love to, dear, but I won’t be granting Mr. Abernathy a plot, at least not until he can secure a position at the mine. We’ve discussed it already and the rumors surrounding the reason he is in America are enough that I simply can’t trust him with a building plot until he can prove to Mr. Winslet that he intends to stay. People come to Blessings to build a future, not to strike it rich and leave. Isn’t that right, Mr. Abernathy?”

  Her father chose that moment to glance back at Victor, as did she. His lips were set in a perturbed line, and the tension that poured from him was palpable. She wanted to leave before some of that coiled energy unleashed. Her heart ached for him; he was away from his family and now unable to work the mine or have a plot of his own.

  During their time together on the steamer and in the wagon, he’d boasted to her that he would get a plot, find gold, and make an offer for her hand, all within the span of three weeks. Without her father’s help, that seemed rather unlikely.

  “I will find work and I will prove to you that I’m trustworthy, Mr. Farnsworth.” He donned his hat, nodded to her, and was gone.

  She almost felt sorry for him. It came back in a rush, all those times her friends were invited to parties, and her family was not. Slaves weren’t welcome. It never mattered how successful Father was, it never stopped the talk. Lenora had grown to hate it all, which was why she was yet unmarried. She’d refused to even see any man whose family had spited them because of the lies about her mother.

  “Father, with all the talk that went on in Boston about Mother, talk that we know to be false, is it fair to judge Mr. Abernathy based solely on rumor?”

  Her father smiled at her and flipped open his huge ledger. “I’m not the only one who’s judged him based on innuendo, my dear. You’ve heard things about him as well, things from the ship that a lady would never talk about. I know you’ve heard them because I can see the way you look at him, with questions in your eyes. You’re far too honest. It’s good that we got you away from Boston when we did, or that trait would’ve landed us in trouble. The higher the society, the more secrets it keeps.”

  She hated that he was trying to change the subject. In this one thing, she could help Victor without him ever knowing.

  “Are you saying that what I heard was a lie?” She wouldn’t believe it even if Father told her. Not only had he been the one to tell her, she’d seen him talking to other women. He’d done it right in front of her, often glancing at her to see if she’d taken notice, and laughing heartily when he caught her. Victor was a scoundrel, a rogue, her mother would call him a rake, and that was probably the closest to the truth. Yet her heart wouldn’t listen, it wanted his company all the same.

  “Mr. Abernathy and I have had occasion to have a few long talks, Lenora. I may not trust him with Mr. Winslet’s precious land because of the stipulations he’s put on it.” He slipped a gentle finger under her chin and lifted her face to look into his blue, honest eyes. “But I do trust him to protect my only daughter. So, now you know the truth.”

  Count your blessings… His mother had always said it. She’d tried to let him be, to grow up without much direction, other than the glib remarks and platitudes. He’d thumbed his nose at all of it, convinced that the money, drinks, and women would never run dry. Until, one day they did. His father had sat him down in his study and shown him the ledger from the estate. The huge book was full of figures and every last one of them was bleak.

  Five years later, and he hadn’t heard a word from home. Did his family still own the estate? Was he still entitled to anything? The rumor that he was there to earn back his fortune was only partially true. When his father had shown Victor what his behavior had cost the family, he’d left to avoid further sha
me. Before he’d left, his mother had suggested he try to recapture the fortune in America. Now, he knew nothing, except that she was waiting for him to return home, hopeful he would bring the money to pay off his debt to the family. Yet his father’s parting glare of shame sat with him all five years. He couldn’t go home empty-handed. When he returned, they would tell him if he might inherit anything. How rich; to inherit what he had to earn.

  Now, he saw that life for what it had been, empty. The Farnsworths were a family. They didn’t love each other more or less than anyone else, but they still had what he could no longer claim; family, heritage, a place to belong.

  Though his newly acquired wealth was small, it was still more than he’d earned for years trying various things in Boston—cards more than anything. He’d get good on one gambling boat and then they’d accuse him of cheating, take his winnings or whatever he had on him, and forcibly remove him. He wasn’t a cheat, but they didn’t like winners. It was bad for their business.

  He’d met Cort when they’d both been thrown off the same boat, Luck’s Lady, for different reasons. Together, they’d gotten good and sloppy on cheap bourbon, and Cort had shared the story of his life after Victor had shared his. They’d become like brothers after that. If Victor went back to England, Cort would have to come with him. Then his friend could finally be free of the demons that chased him.

  Victor and Cort had agreed that morning over the cook fire that they needed a plot, and that Victor was more likely to get it, since he’d been the closest with Mr. Farnsworth. Now they had no options; Winslet had said no. Because the town was so fledgling, there weren’t many businesses to find work. They’d have to start something new. He could offer his building skills, after helping Mr. Farnsworth raise his business and home. But that had been a lot more strenuous than he’d expected.

  Along the path, heading back to a small area he and Cort had claimed for their tent on the opposite end of town as Winslet House, Cort slid from behind one of the many trees and joined him. How Cort always knew where he’d be was an absolute mystery.

  “Did you get us some land?” he said, without preamble.

  “No, sorry. He doesn’t believe we’ll stay and help the town prosper. Winslet said he couldn’t grant plots to anyone who wasn’t hired by the mine, and when I met with Winslet earlier he said he wouldn’t hire me because he doesn’t think I’ll stay.”

  Cort laughed dryly. “He’s rather astute. You didn’t plan to stay here or reinvest what you find in the town, you were going to find it and head out.”

  It was only partially true. “Wrong, I was going to find it, ask for Farnsworth’s daughter’s hand, take her whether he agreed or not, and then leave.”

  “So, what now?”

  Cort ignored his ignoble plan. He most likely had an idea of his own, he always did, but he generally left Victor the job of suggesting it first.

  “You said you ran horses for a while, in Kentucky?”

  Cort narrowed his eyes and glanced behind them. “I didn’t run horses. Hayes knew a few men in the horse business.”

  “Nelson, Hayes, it’s no matter. You know horses, right?”

  “If you want me to be here to help you, you’ll bury that name and that past deep in your memory and not take it out again.”

  Cort could be temperamental, but he was the best shot Victor had ever seen, and he wasn’t about to lose the firepower over a spat.

  “Fine. Cort, do you know horses? I think we could start a livery. It’s about the only thing either of us know.”

  “And by that, you mean you want me to run it.”

  The man wasn’t stupid, Victor knew a good horse when he saw one, could saddle it if a groom wasn’t available, and might be able to pitch fodder, but his knowledge was limited.

  “Of course.”

  Cort shook his head and spat, taking his time to answer. “You don’t think there’s any other way? Opening up a business ties us here, both of us. I’m not leaving once we invest in something that big, and I won’t let you, either.”

  That was the plan. Make old Winslet think they’d changed their ways and were ready to settle down. It meant he’d have to let Cort stay behind, and lie to him for the very first time, but if he had to, he would.

  “Exactly. After a few weeks, they’ll let me have that job in the mines, and I can get us a house plot because we’ve invested in this little town. And then I’ll do just as we planned.”

  “Except you forgot one thing. If we buy what we need to start the livery, there won’t be any left to rent the plot. We’ll have to work for it.”

  The longer he had to work, the harder it would be to stay away from Miss Farnsworth, and he’d never had to wait this long for a woman. He’d needed to get his money quickly, so he could sweep her right back to the bay and off to England, to his waiting family. His mother wouldn’t find a single fault with her, he certainly couldn’t.

  “We already managed to build the law office, and just downstream, they are working on the mill. It’ll be ready soon. We could work on cutting timber this week and, with help from a few men in town, have the livery up and running in five to seven days. Farnsworth would let us use his tools. He won’t ever use them again.”

  “Culloma is out of the question. Everything was far too expensive. They charged a dollar for a glass of milk, and it was watered down by half,” Cort grumbled.

  “That’s your penance for drinking the stuff.” Even the thought of milk curled his insides, but to Cort, it was something he called home-food.

  Victor wouldn’t give up a single cent that he didn’t have to, but there also might be a way to earn some of their money back a bit quicker. “I have another way we can earn a little money, same as we did before we got here. We’ll pull up our tent and move it out into the forest, but let a few select miners know that there will be cards every night. High stakes, not like the saloon.”

  Victor couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner. The quicker he and Cort fleeced the good miners of their earnings, the quicker he could be on his way.

  “You know that Geoff will be down there every night and it’ll only be a matter of time before Mr. Farnsworth finds out. You may be in his good graces when it comes to his daughter now, but if you bring gambling into Blessings, be prepared to deal with the consequences.”

  Farnsworth might get angry, but it would be Winslet he’d have to worry about. Winslet held the cards in Blessings, and he was sitting on a full house.

  Chapter 6

  Edward Farnsworth was a hard man to please, but Lenora couldn’t stop thinking about all the things she’d learned as she walked a sample down to the Winslet Mine office. So far, she’d managed to stay out of her father’s way and learn more than she’d thought possible. She now knew how to accept the gold samples from the prospectors, and to label them accordingly, and her father had even trusted her to take them over to Mr. Winslet—he was such a hoot. She now knew the land around Blessings so well that, when someone spoke about the section numbers the miners gave, she knew just where they were talking about.

  Mr. Winslet sat in his office, his old boots propped up on his desk that looked suspiciously like old crates, but she’d never asked him about them.

  “Afternoon, Miss Farnsworth. Have you brought me more dirt?” His eyes twinkled. He’d teased her the first time she’d brought a sample, as it’d had almost no ‘color’ at all.

  “Yes, sir. A fine sample from near the east mine, section five.”

  He nodded and slapped the sample on the corner of his desk. She wasn’t privy to what he did with them after she brought them.

  “Your father is proud of you, you know.” His hazel eyes seemed to look right into her soul. Her father had said that Winslet had an uncanny ability to know a man, without knowing him at all.

  “That remains to be seen. He’s yet to trust me with any more important task than bringing you bottles of dirt.” Though she prayed there was something more in them, for Mr. Winslet’s sake.


  “Just because he don’t do what you expect him to, don’t mean that he ain’t proud. He wouldn’t be workin’ so hard to teach you iff’n he weren’t.”

  She’d had to try so hard just to get Father to agree to let her work with him that it didn’t seem possible.

  “Thank you, sir.” She turned, trying to avoid more conversation as Millie Winslet walked in.

  “Lenora! So good to see you. Were you able to make use of that hare?” Millie smiled and wrapped an arm about her shoulders. “I haven’t seen your mother since the land office was built, tell her she needs to come over and have a sit.”

  Her mother hadn’t left the house, and had taken to cowering in her room, but Father wouldn’t approve of her telling anyone, especially the town founder and his wife. They might feel responsible, and Lenora knew it wasn’t the Winslet’s fault in the slightest.

  “The hare was delicious, thank you.” And surprisingly, it had been. Once she’d figured out it had to be skinned like a chicken, the rest had been easy. “She’s been feeling poorly. Please don’t take it as a slight.”

  Millie nodded and released her hold on Lenora’s shoulders. The loss was immediate, her own mother had never been the type to give such attention.

  “As soon as she’s up to it, come on over and I’ll show you how to make rabbit that’ll melt in your mouth.”

  “Oh!” Mr. Winslet jumped to his feet. “I almost forgot. You dropped these when you were in here the other day.” His smile caught her heart as he dropped two coins in her palm.

  “I did no such thing.” She hated taking his money when her own father wouldn’t pay her.

  “Oh, I’m certain they’re yours.” He shooed her toward the door. “Your father is waitin’ on you, best get back to work.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She slipped the coins into her pocket and vowed to save them.

  Back at the office, she sighed and slid onto her hard, wooden stool. The whole room was the same size as their home, but her father had wanted her desk away from his. It sat near the front window, so she could see when people were going to come in and could welcome them. Though, her gaze seemed to look for one man more than others, the one man she kept telling herself she had to avoid, and who shouldn’t be coming in anyway, since he wouldn’t be getting a plot.