A Timeless Romance Anthology: Old West Collection

by Carla Kelly

  Lydia swallowed back her distaste for things that weren’t clean. If she were to marry a miner, she’d have to put up with stained hands. She moved her attention from Mr. Parker and focused once more on the choir. Two of the eligible men were singing— Mr. Roberts and Mr. Brown. Mr. Roberts was a bit short for her taste. What would it be like to kiss a man a tad shorter than she? Would she have to lean down? Her face flushed at the thought, and she looked away from Mr. Roberts. The other eligible bachelor in the choir had the reddest hair Lydia had ever seen on a man, or anyone, for that matter. Yet his name was Mr. Brown.

  Mr. Brown also sang louder than all of the other choir members, reminding Lydia of her father— not a good thing. The choir launched into a rendition of one of her father’s favorites, and Lydia’s eyes stung with tears.

  Lydia blinked rapidly and drew in a breath to calm herself. She diverted herself from the swelling music by glancing discreetly about the room. Mr. Janson sat in the row ahead of her boss. Mr. Janson was a bit craggy in the face— perhaps he’d had the pox as a child— but he was kind and soft-spoken.

  How did such a gentle man endure such a harsh work environment? Mining was hard labor, and unless you had ownership in the mine, the pay wasn’t enough to support a family. Men shared rooms in boarding houses, scrimping and saving until they could get enough money to move on. Rumblings of a strike for higher wages were part of everyday gossip.

  Lydia’s gaze flitted to Mr. Dawson again. He’d joined in the singing— all of the congregation had except for her. As the music assaulted her heart, she went over her mental list of requirements a husband would need to possess. They were quite specific— as well they should be.

  Her mother had been the one who encouraged Lydia to apply for the secretary job, saying, “You’ll find yourself a hard-working, ambitious man up at Leadville. Just make sure he’s a family man and goes to church, and that he has eyes only for you.”

  Lydia’s mother’s advice had never gone astray. Not when Lydia had been engaged to Roger or to Thomas. Her mother had been right about both men… neither had fulfilled her mother’s four requirements. Thankfully, Lydia’s hometown knew only of her engagement to Thomas. And the engagement to Roger had been very brief. Two failed engagements, however, were enough motivation for her to leave an all-knowing small town for a bigger one and make a fresh start.

  Her gaze stopped at Mr. Bartholomew, who sat on the right side of the church, his eyes fastened on the choir. He wasn’t singing either, but he seemed absorbed in the music. His suit was far from new, yet it was clean… a mark of a conscientious man. Plus, he kept his hair short and his face shaved. For those reasons, she added him to her list.

  The hymn came to a merciful close, and as Reverend Stanley prayed in dramatic tones for the souls of the “good citizens of Leadville,” Lydia took another peek at Mr. Dawson. His head was bowed, but his eyes weren’t closed. In fact, from the corner of his eye, he was peering at her.

  Heat rushed to Lydia’s face, then spread all the way to her toes. She lowered her head, snapped her eyes shut, and squeezed her gloved hands together. Even with her eyes closed, she could see Mr. Dawson’s green ones in her mind, along with the slight upward turn of his mouth and the way his curls had escaped their careful Sabbath grooming.

  Oh laws. Someone please save me from the embarrassment of being caught staring at my boss. If the reverend hadn’t still been praying, and Lydia hadn’t feared causing a disturbance by hurrying out of the church, she would have left then and there. If only to escape what was surely a very amused Mr. Dawson.

  Chapter Two

  Erik Dawson leaned against the outside wall of the church, waiting for the reverend to finish talking to the departing members of the congregation. For two years, he’d been coming to this church, and for two years, the reverend had rejected Erik’s requests for aid. But this new reverend had been here only a month, so Erik hoped to persuade the man to help his sister.

  The Colorado mountain air seemed especially thin today, or maybe it was Erik’s growing awareness of his new secretary, Lydia Stone. He’d caught her looking at him more than once during services, and he didn’t know what to make of it. Miss Stone hardly paid him mind at the office. She went about her business in silence, totally absorbed in her work, as if she were afraid to make any demands.

  Of course, Erik was no stranger to women looking at him. In fact, he’d experienced quite a few disreputable ones throwing themselves his way— that was part and parcel of spending time at his sister’s brothel— but Lydia Stone was different. It seemed she’d finally taken notice of him, although they’d spent hours together over the past two weeks, working in close quarters.

  She was pretty enough, and definitely grown up enough, to have a husband and a brood of children of her own. Why she was single, and working in a rabble-rousing mining town, mystified Erik. She wasn’t widowed and didn’t seem particularly destitute— that much had been clear from her application. It all made Erik curious, even though he didn’t want to be.

  The last thing he had time for was a woman.

  Managing his silver mine and keeping track of his sister had taken up all of his physical time and emotional energy. Not to mention that the combination of Erik Dawson and women seemed to always end badly. His mother had left their family when he was nine, and his father drank himself into a stupor, disappearing two years later. Erik’s childhood sweetheart had up and kissed Teddy Jennings— his biggest enemy. Without their parents, his only sister, Margaret, four years his senior, had tried to support them. But she had no education, and no one would hire her to clean or watch children. It seemed their father had burned every possible bridge.

  In the end, Margaret had fled to a brothel to feed him.

  And that was how she paid for Erik’s private boarding school. It wasn’t until he was sixteen that he discovered where the money had really come from, and then he was so horrified he dropped out.

  That’s when they’d had their terrible fight. Margaret had fled town, and Erik had spent the next fourteen years working in mines across the country, trying to find his sister. He found her more than once, but each time, she turned away his offer of support. Erik was determined to rescue her from her life of debauchery, settle her in her own home, and show her that she didn’t need to sell her body to earn a living.

  At least, not any more.

  When Erik had learned that Margaret and her group of ladies had established themselves in the booming mining town of Leadville, he investigated in advance. With a bank loan in his favor, he bought out a few small claims. Miraculously, those mine shafts revealed rich ore deposits only a few more feet down, more than the seller had known about. And thus, Dawson Mining was born.

  Erik still visited Margaret several times a week in an effort to persuade her to leave. So far, she’d refused. And now she was ill… seriously ill, if Erik was to believe the doctor he’d hired to examine Margaret.

  Consumption, the doctor had said, and the thin mountain air wasn’t helping.

  Margaret said she knew she was dying, but she didn’t care. She wanted to stay with her “ladies”— the women had become like family to her.

  That fact sat like a bitter pill inside Erik. His sister preferred the life of a paramour over a clean one where he could provide for her. If only he could get a reverend in to hear her confession, then Margaret could relieve her guilty conscience and begin the road to change.

  The congregation leaving the church had thinned, and Erik hoped it would only be a few more moments before he could petition the new reverend. Then Lydia Stone stepped out of the church and shook the reverend’s hand. She smiled up at the reverend, her cheeks faintly flushed, and Erik felt a twinge of envy. Ridiculous! The reverend was a portly, older man, certainly not someone Lydia could be attracted to. But she had never smiled like that at the office. And never at Erik.

  Of course, any proper woman wouldn’t give him a second glance if they knew about his sister’s living. If there was an
y word to describe Lydia Stone, it was proper.

  Her gaze moved from the reverend’s to meet his. Her eyebrows lifted in faint curiosity, but she looked quickly away. She stepped past the reverend, and Erik straightened to speak to her. “Good afternoon, Miss Stone.”

  For a moment, Erik thought he saw a spark of interest in her calm, gray eyes. But maybe he was mistaken. She nodded, he nodded back, and she stepped off the porch and walked away.

  Mr. Janson came out of the church next, a tall, lanky fellow. He bid farewell to the reverend then hurried after Miss Stone.

  Erik let out a sigh, unsure why it was a disheartening to see a man try to capture Lydia Stone’s attention. It was nothing new. Every miner entering the office practically tripped over his heavy boots after coming face-to-face with the gray-eyed woman.

  Finally, the reverend was alone, and Erik followed him back into the church. “May I speak to you in private?”

  Reverend Stanley turned, his thick brows arched. “Of course, son. Do you need to confess?”

  Erik flushed. “No, I have a special request to make, if you don’t mind. It’s for my sister.”

  The reverend clasped his large hands together, waiting. But by the time Erik was halfway through explaining his sister’s plight, Reverend Stanley was already shaking his head.

  “Please, sir,” Erik said. “She’s very ill, and I need her last days to be ones of peace.”

  “If she’s not accepting of the good word, I cannot force her.” Reverend Stanley spread his hands wide as if he were completely helpless.

  Erik let out a breath, trying to keep his frustration and anger at bay. It was the last thing he wanted to do— to coerce or bribe. But his sister’s soul was the most important thing to him. “I will make a sizable donation to the church.”

  The reverend’s eyes widened. He was silent for a few moments, the only sound reaching a passing wagon. Finally he said, “Can she travel? Come here tonight after dark?”

  Erik’s heart sank. Getting his sister to leave the brothel would be near impossible in her condition, and especially if she knew of the destination. But if that was the only way the reverend would speak with her, he’d figure out how to bring Margaret.

  Chapter Three

  Lydia had agreed to go on a walk with Mr. Janson on Sunday evening after supper. Yet almost as soon as they started, she profusely regretted it. Strolling down one side of Main Street had been more than enough, but they still had to return to her rented room over the bakery at the other end of the town.

  Sunday night was always a wild time in Leadville. The saloons were open, with virtually every miner in attendance. Easy women stood in groups outside of the saloon, smiling and flirting with the male passersby.

  The site of such casualty made Lydia shudder. She’d been eyed more than once by bawdy miners, which caused her to tighten her grip on Mr. Janson’s arm. She hoped he wouldn’t take her actions for more than what they meant.

  Yet that wasn’t all. Mr. Janson might be gentle and kind, but women seemed to be his weakness as well. He’d actually stopped when a woman wearing a low-cut dress, displaying her ample bosom, had called to him from across the street. Plainly, that woman couldn’t have cared less that Mr. Janson had a lady on his arm. And the woman was good and drunk.

  Mr. Janson tried to escort her across the street to speak to the brazen woman.

  Lydia’s face heated thoroughly. “I’ll wait here, thank you,” she said, when in fact, she should have demanded he take her home then and there. If she were braver, she’d have up and left. But she was too nervous to walk back alone; too many drunken men were about, if the shouts and laughter coming from the saloon across the street were any indication.

  “She seems to have an urgent question. Maybe she needs my help,” Mr. Janson said. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  Lydia pressed her lips together and nodded her reluctant assent. Mr. Janson didn’t waste a moment hurrying across the dusty street. The sun had set awhile back, and the sky was navy, cut by the glow from the collection of saloons with their fancy gas lighting. Lydia pulled her shawl tightly around her, warding off the cool breeze, as she ignored the stare of a man walking by.

  She scooted to the side of the boardwalk as the stranger lumbered past. His steps weren’t quite steady, although his gaze was— and it was on her. The man continued on his way without saying anything; Lydia exhaled in relief. She looked over at Mr. Janson again, who was leaning against the outside wall of a saloon, talking to the woman.

  What on earth? Could Mr. Janson really be that daft? And was she so foolish as to wait for a man talking to a… prostitute?

  Lydia fished out a folded piece of paper that she kept in her bodice and opened it. Mr. Janson’s name was number four on her list. With the stubby pencil from her handbag, she crossed his name off with three lines to ensure that it was properly crossed out.

  She started walking along the boardwalk, ignoring every greeting and jest directed at her. She made eye contact with no one, and even when she heard Mr. Janson calling after her, she didn’t stop.

  Not until she saw Erik Dawson did her step come up short. He was exiting a building next to another saloon. Lydia didn’t need to see the dangling wooden sign creaking in the wind above the door to know her boss had just exited a house of ill repute.

  So the gossip was true. Before she could avoid being seen, Mr. Dawson caught her gaze. Lydia knew her face must be flaming bright red, but his expression surprised her. Where she would have thought he’d be embarrassed, or defiant, at having been seen both at church and at a brothel in the same day, all she saw on his face was sadness. Possibly grief.

  And it was for that reason she didn’t start moving again until he’d turned and crossed the street without further acknowledgment of her. Which was just as well. Her heart pinged at the thought of what could have possibly made Mr. Dawson so upset. Perhaps his favorite prostitute had found someone younger and more handsome. She gave a derisive laugh.

  And then she felt foolish; she’d once considered that man for her eligible list. He was lightly penciled in as number ten, pending her ability to discover whether the rumors were true. As disappointment burned through her, confusing her thoughts, she felt even more foolish. She hadn’t held any particular affection for him. Why did she now feel such profound regret? As soon as she would return to her room, she’d cross his name off too.

  “Miss Stone,” a man called behind her.

  She realized too late that Mr. Janson had caught up. She exhaled and turned to face the man who’d been a terrible companion.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, coming to a stop and trying to catch his breath.

  “Mr. Janson,” Lydia said, keeping her voice firm, although she felt anything but. She had to practically crane her neck to look up at him, he was so tall. “You are no gentleman. You abandoned me on the street with drunken men all about, in favor of a woman of ill repute.”

  “She only wanted to know—”

  Lydia held up her hand to stop him. “It doesn’t matter. I would appreciate it if you did not call on me again.” Anger pulsed through her. How much more could her heart could endure in a single night? Turning, she walked as rapidly as her heeled boots would allow.

  Mr. Janson called out, “Miss Stone…” But his voice died away.

  She kept her chin lifted and gazed forward with smarting eyes. It appeared that no one was whom he seemed tonight. If she hadn’t witnessed her boss coming out of the brothel, she would have continued to doubt the rumors. Thank goodness she’d been able to find out Mr. Dawson’s and Mr. Janson’s true characters so quickly.

  As she walked, she ignored the squeeze of disappointment in her heart. Instead, she thought of the other eight names on her list. She hoped there wouldn’t be any terrible secrets about them to be discovered. She didn’t know how many more surprises she could tolerate.

  Chapter Four

  “Damn,” Erik muttered. “Double damn.”

  First, his
sister had refused to listen to reason. He’d groveled to the reverend for nothing. Then Lydia Stone had come marching down the street. Her wide eyes had said what she must think of him… But he didn’t have time to worry about that. He had to get back to the church and let Reverend Stanley know that his sister wouldn’t be coming tonight after all.

  He just hoped the reverend would have an extra measure of compassion, as befitted a man of his profession, and agree to visit the brothel. Erik moved to the alley across the street, where he’d left his wagon. He didn’t want any of Margaret’s friends to alert her that he’d brought a wagon into town to take her to the church in before he could talk her into it.

  Erik smoothed back the mane of his ever-patient horse, Rust, then climbed into the wagon. He pulled onto Main Street, letting the horse clip along at his own pace. Sunday night was busy in town, as if all the miners and their women were trying to get every last moment of the weekend in before work started at dawn the following morning.

  As he traveled along the street, he recognized a few men, although there were probably more of them he should have recognized, but he was used to seeing them covered in dust. It had taken nearly two years to get the men to trust him. Being the manager and owner of a mine was delicate business. Men had threatened to strike at other mines, asking for higher pay and fewer hours. Erik wondered when discontent would reach his mine.

  The profit in silver mining was rising, but each raise in pay had to be considered carefully. Erik had seen boomtowns rise to the top for months, only to become ghost towns before the year was out. Often when miners banded together and went on strike, managers would fire the strikers and bring in a new group of men willing to work for the contracted pay. Erik had decided long ago that when the price of silver went up, he couldn’t pay his men more, because when the price inevitably came back down, they’d refuse to take less pay.