Copper Sunrise

by Carol Cox

  “That’s why I have you here, to keep me in line.” He smiled and held her coat for her.

  The lines around his eyes looked deeper than usual, she thought. Today’s meeting must have been more difficult for him than he wanted to admit. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and smiled her thanks when he slid the coat up over her shoulders.

  Reminded of Mattie’s concerns over her spending so much time alone with her boss, she studied his features, only inches away. She had to admit they were handsome enough, even with the lines of strain etched in his face.

  A good-looking man and a powerful one—it should be easy enough to feel attracted to him. But being near him didn’t produce anything like the electrifying sensation she felt whenever Mitch was around.

  Catherine tucked that knowledge away to ponder later. She surveyed the office and gave a satisfied nod. “I think everything is back in order.” Her mouth stretched open in a wide yawn, and she clapped her hand across her lips.

  “I knew I’d been working you too hard.”

  Catherine shook her head, mortified. “Not at all. I’m loving every minute of it. I wouldn’t change a thing.” Another yawn threatened, and she clamped her lips shut.

  Mr. Showalter chuckled and hustled her toward the front door. “Go on. Get out of here and do something more enjoyable with what’s left of the day. I don’t want my secretary looking pale and worn out in the morning.”

  Catherine laughed and bade him good-bye, then set off toward Mrs. Abernathy’s with a light step. She might be tired physically, but her spirit felt energized. Big things required a lot of work, and she was definitely part of something big. She could hardly be called one of the movers or shakers, but at least she could do her own small part. Even being on the fringe of all the action gave her a sense of importance she’d never known before.

  Bands of crimson and gold streaked across the darkening sky. Catherine spread her arms wide as if to embrace the spectacular display. In the distance, a church bell rang out. She could picture Mattie hurrying along to the evening service and settling herself in her usual pew.

  Mitch, too, would be on his way to church. Catherine felt a pang of regret at his disappointment when she told him she’d be working. Coupled with the memory of Mattie’s own dismay, a twinge of guilt marred her sense of accomplishment, but only for a moment.

  Mattie worried too much. They both did. She could always go to church, but an opportunity to be a part of something so grand only came along once in a lifetime.

  Her family would understand that. So would Alex. Wouldn’t they? Her steps slowed as she imagined their reaction to her putting in nearly a full day’s work on the Lord’s Day.

  No, they wouldn’t approve at all. Catherine felt weighted down by the knowledge then shrugged off her feelings of guilt. The Bible itself said there was nothing wrong with pulling your neighbor’s ox out of a ditch on the Sabbath. Didn’t that prove there were times when tradition had to bow to necessity?

  Ten

  “Are you sure they don’t mind me coming?” Catherine took Mitch’s hand and stepped down from his roadster.

  He continued to hold her hand even after she stood beside him on the curb. “The Johnsons are wonderful people, and you’ll love them. I promise.”

  “But they don’t even know me. Why would they want to have a total stranger over for Thanksgiving dinner?” Catherine glanced longingly at the jaunty little car, wishing she could climb back in and let Mitch whisk her away for a drive out into the desert. Riding in the sporty vehicle had been fun, but she would have enjoyed it more if her nerves hadn’t been so on edge.

  “Relax.” Mitch kneaded her fingers with a gentle pressure. “They don’t have any family living nearby so they’re always looking for a way to fill the empty seats around their table. They’ve pretty much adopted me since my mother moved back to Indiana.”

  He cupped her elbow in his hand and led her up the walk to the white stucco house. “As for them not knowing you, I introduced you to them that first Sunday morning at church.”

  “Did you?” Catherine fiddled with the latch on her purse. “I met so many people that day, I guess I don’t remember them all.”

  Mitch smiled and twisted the door bell. “They remember you.”

  The look in his eyes sent a warm glow through her. Any remaining feelings of being an outsider were swept away the moment the door opened and she found herself enfolded in a motherly embrace.

  “Welcome, my dear! We’re so happy you could come.”

  “Thank you for having me,” Catherine said as soon as she could catch her breath.

  A joyous smile wreathed her hostess’s round face. She turned toward the back of the house and called, “Pete, they’re here!”

  Mr. Johnson, his lean frame a counterpoint to his wife’s plumpness, ambled into the room. He peered at Catherine over the top of his glasses. “We’re sure glad you could come. That smile of yours brightens up the whole room.”

  Before she could respond, Mrs. Johnson put in, “I’m just ready to put things on the table, Catherine. You can help me carry in the food.”

  Preparations flowed quickly from that point. With no time to feel awkward, Catherine found herself feeling like a member of the household. In what seemed only a few minutes, Mitch was helping her into her chair and seating himself next to her.

  After Mr. Johnson said grace, his wife looked over at Mitch. “Have you heard from your mother lately?”

  He spread his napkin in his lap and nodded. “I got a letter just yesterday. She’s over her bout with the grippe and seems to be feeling better than she has in some time. She’ll be spending the day with her brother and his family.”

  Catherine’s mind flew to her own family. What would they be doing today? Her mother, father, and brother would have set off for her grandparents’ home early that morning, in plenty of time for the women to put the finishing touches on the holiday meal. More than likely, her grandmother would have invited others to share the dinner with them.

  Who would be sitting in Catherine’s usual chair? A twinge of homesickness smote her. She ordered herself to focus on the moment instead of looking back. She had a new life now, her own life. Grandma Elizabeth didn’t get to go back home for the holidays once she’d made the decision to venture out to Arizona. Surely she must have felt the same loneliness from time to time. But she had gotten through it somehow. Catherine could, too.

  Bowls and platters were passed around the table, and the plates were heaped high with Mrs. Johnson’s delicious cooking. Catherine feasted on turkey, stuffing, and sweet potatoes until she thought she would explode if she put one more morsel in her mouth.

  Mr. Johnson folded his napkin and laid it next to his plate. “And now comes my favorite part of the meal. We’re coming up on the start of the Christmas season, when we celebrate the birth of our Savior. Seems to me this is the perfect time to reflect on what He has done for us over the past year. Let’s take a few minutes to talk about the things we’re grateful for.”

  His wife patted her lips with her napkin and nodded. “Why don’t you start?”

  Mr. Johnson cleared his throat. “My heart is overflowing with gratitude for a number of reasons.” He sent a warm look toward his wife at the opposite end of the table. “The Lord gave me the finest woman any man could be married to, and He’s blessed us with another year together. That’s plenty to be thankful for, right there.

  “But on top of that, I want to say that I’ve been in this territory for thirty years now. I’ve seen it grow and prosper, and it looks like great strides have been made this year in moving toward that day we’ve all been waiting for. Next year, I hope to be able to say I’m thankful for Arizona being the forty-seventh state in the union.”

  “Hear, hear,” the rest of them chorused.

  “I’ll go next.” Mrs. Johnson folded her hands across her waist. “I’ll say the same thing I did last year: When our boy, Paul, moved away to St. Louis, things got very lonely for Pete
and me. I’m thankful the Lord brought Mitch along to help fill the gap.

  “And this year I give special thanks for him bringing his young lady to spend the day with us.” She smiled sweetly in Catherine’s direction. “Why don’t you go next, dear?”

  It took a moment for Catherine to gather her thoughts. “There are a lot of things for me to be grateful for. The weather, for one thing. That clear blue sky today is a far cry from Thanksgiving with six inches of snow on the ground.” Everyone laughed along with her, but then she sobered. “Beyond that, God has blessed me with a wonderful job, a place where I have a chance to make a difference.”

  She glanced at Mitch. Should she say anything about him, or not? She didn’t dare mention the feelings that had been growing in her heart. Still, she couldn’t leave him out altogether.

  “And He’s given me some special friends here,” she added. The comment fell far short of what she wanted to say, but it was the best she could come up with on a moment’s notice. She flicked a quick look in his direction. Had she said enough? Had she said too much? His expression didn’t give her any clue.

  “It looks like I’m the one to wind things up,” he said. “I have more to be thankful for this year than any other I can remember. My articles are gaining acceptance and building a readership for me, and I have a boss who is willing to let me expand my writing opportunities.”

  Catherine’s heart beat in double time when he cast a sidelong glance her way.

  “And I’ll echo Catherine’s sentiment as well,” he added. “I’m thankful for. . .special friends.” He reached under the table and clasped her fingers in his.

  Catherine felt sure her face was beet red. She picked up her tumbler and took a sip of water to cover her confusion.

  Mrs. Johnson reached over and patted her hand. “We’ve missed seeing you in church, dear. I’ve hoped you’d be able to accompany Mitch more often. Our pastor has been giving some wonderful messages lately. He feeds our souls as well as we’ve fed our bodies today. I’m sure you would enjoy them.”

  The glow Catherine felt after Mitch’s secret touch fled. She looked down at the tablecloth, avoiding eye contact. “I’m sure I would,” she said and left it at that. She slipped her fingers from Mitch’s grasp and busied herself helping Mrs. Johnson clear the table.

  The only point of contention in her growing friendship with Mitch had been the times she’d had to turn down his invitations to church. It wasn’t her fault, though, that she had to work on Sunday. She knew her sporadic church attendance disturbed Mitch, but it couldn’t be helped. She lined up two serving dishes on the kitchen counter and went back to the table for more.

  Times were changing, and they all had to accept that fact. They lived in the twentieth century now, and some of the old ways of doing things were bound to pass away.

  Still, it just didn’t feel right somehow. She set a handful of silverware in the sink and picked up a cloth to wipe down the kitchen counter. Sometimes progress demanded sacrifice. Right now she had to sacrifice her own time for the greater good of the territory.

  She had accepted that. She just hoped Mitch could.

  ❧

  The bulb in the green-shaded desk lamp flickered, then came back on full strength. Or maybe it was his eyesight that had flickered. Mitch pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and glanced at his study window. Pitch black outside. He checked his pocket watch and groaned.

  In only a few more hours, the first streaks of dawn would lighten the sky. If he had a lick of sense, he’d get at least a bit of rest before he went in to work at the Clarion. He rose and switched off the lamp, more than ready to head for his waiting bed.

  Halfway there, he pivoted on his heel. Who was he kidding? If he didn’t figure out what had been bothering him for the past few hours, he’d never get a bit of sleep. He returned to the desk and switched the lamp back on again.

  “All right, Brewer, focus.”

  He fastened his bleary gaze on the scraps of papers and pages of notes spread before him and tried to get his mind to cooperate. Somewhere in that untidy heap lay the cause of his late night vigil. But where?

  His evening had started out simply enough. The profiles he’d written were proving eminently successful, but they would hold people’s interest for only so long. If he wanted to continue to build on his success, Mitch knew he would have to come up with something fresh.

  Thanks to Nathan Showalter, he believed he’d found the perfect means of doing just that. During their interview, a chance comment the businessman had dropped in regard to real estate development had planted the tiny seed of an idea that had grown and blossomed as the focus for a whole new set of articles.

  The more Mitch dug into the subject, the more excited he became. If he could clearly show the growth potential along with descriptions of the projects various development groups had in mind, the resulting series could not only enhance his career but boost investment in Arizona, as well.

  Until tonight, it looked like he was well on his way to doing just that. Until the point when his subconscious realized that, no matter how rosy things looked on the surface, they simply weren’t adding up. Like a bad smell floating in the air, he caught the scent of something amiss.

  The thought niggled at him all evening and well into the night while he sorted his notes and tried to decide on the best approach for the articles he planned. The more he tried to ignore it, the more it refused to go away.

  “Where is it, Lord? It has to be right in front of me, but I just don’t see it.”

  He gathered his papers and shuffled them around. Maybe looking at things from a different perspective would help. He laid the notes out in random order, hoping his subconscious mind would take over and sort things out for him.

  His hand paused in the act of laying a sheet of paper on his desk. There it was, right where it had been all the time. Like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle, the bits of information fell neatly into place.

  Mitch stared at the lists in front of him, hoping he could make them mean something other than he feared they did. Try as he might, he couldn’t.

  He pursed his lips and sucked in a slow breath. If he was right, his research pointed to some serious skullduggery, and from someone highly placed.

  His stomach tightened. Assuming he was right, and all this came to light. . .

  The implications staggered him. If word of this got out, it could create a scandal that would have far-reaching effect, maybe even have an impact on Arizona’s hopes for statehood.

  His reporter’s instincts kicked into high gear. If wrong was being done, it had to be brought to light. But he couldn’t go off half-cocked. He needed the facts—all of them—before he could make an accurate assessment.

  Pale threads of light seeped past the curtain. Mitch recognized the herald of a new day but focused on the job at hand. He could sleep another time.

  He pored over his notes, seeing them in a whole new light. Little by little, a pattern emerged. Someone was systematically buying up large tracts of land in the outlying areas.

  Nothing wrong with that, in and of itself. With statehood on the near horizon, it was no secret that the value of land around the capital was bound to increase in a big way. All a speculator had to do was buy up all the desert land he could afford and resell it later at a handsome profit. Someone with a fair amount of money to invest could make millions.

  Still no surprises there. That was just good business. What intrigued Mitch was the comparison of recent sales and purchase amounts, which led to two very interesting questions: Why, on the brink of a boom in land values, had the current owners decided to sell? And why were they all willing to settle for such low prices?

  He had no idea. Yet.

  Finding the answers would take time. . .and some delicate investigation. If the wrongdoing ran as deep as he suspected, this wasn’t the kind of thing a person could ask about straight out.

  Money had immense power to corrupt. With so much a
t stake, a man’s life could become a cheap commodity. Mitch had no intention of treating his own life lightly. Over the years, he’d learned a few tricks of the reporter’s trade for finding informants. It was time to put out a few feelers.

  A shaft of sunlight darted between the crack in the drapes and caught him full in the eyes. It was also time to get ready for work.

  ❧

  Mitch got to the Southwestern office that evening just before Catherine and Mattie stepped outside. Catherine’s eyes lit up at the sight of him, and Mitch’s heart swelled. To see that look, he would have waited outside all afternoon.

  He tipped his hat. “May I walk you ladies home?”

  “That would be lovely.” Catherine’s smile was radiant. “We’ll be honored to have such a gallant escort, won’t we, Mattie?”

  Mattie shook her head. “Count me out. I need to stop by Woolworth’s on my way home. But the way you two close out the rest of the world when you’re together, you’ll never miss me.” The wink she gave them took any sting out of her words. “See you at dinner.”

  Mitch held out his arm, and Catherine tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. They strolled along Jefferson, watching the Christmas shoppers dart in and out of the downtown stores.

  “Have you heard anything from Alex or any of your folks back home?”

  “My grandmother wrote just the other day.” Catherine’s face glowed with a tender light. “She’s been in the territory for nearly forty-five years, and to hear her talk, you’d think reaching statehood was all her doing! She’s determined to come down for the celebration whenever the day arrives. I wish I had a car like yours. I’d love to drive up there and bring her and Grandpa back down with me. It would be something they’d always remember.”

  Mitch chuckled. “Mine would be too small, I’m afraid. It only holds two people.” Inspiration glimmered like one of the electric street lamps that lit their way. “What if I asked my boss if I could borrow his touring car when the time comes? We could go up there together and bring your grandparents back in grand style.”