by Mimi Milan
The thought of possibly being trapped in a mine was less than appealing, but work was work and his empty pockets were telling him it was about time to be finding some. “That sounds right fine. If you’ll just point me in the right direction, then I’ll be happy to talk to this Atherton fella.”
“Don’t you want to settle in first?” Pati asked, surprised.
“She’s right, buddy. You just got in and considering the company that just left, I can’t imagine it was an easy ride. We can take a ride up to the house—give you a chance to freshen up if you’d like.”
Miguel smiled to hide the idea that he didn’t like the idea of staying with Pete. It wasn’t that he had a problem with the man—they had been comrades in the war and friends ever since. He just didn’t like the idea of intruding. A newly married couple needed their own space. “That’s a mighty nice enough offer, friend, but I ain’t no dandelion yet. I think I’d just like to dig in and get to work… leave the resting for the young, old and newlyweds, if you know what I mean.”
Understanding registered on Pete’s face, followed by a slight color of embarrassment. He chuckled. “I hear ya, partner. At least allow us to take you to lunch, though. We’ve got a fine little place called the Forty-Niner Café. They’ve got just about anything you can imagine there.”
“Yes,” Pati enthusiastically agreed. “I wouldn’t mind visiting for myself and seeing what sweets Roxie created this week.”
“Roxie?”
“She’s the cook at the café,” Pete explained. “Works for a guy named Paul León. Nice enough fellow, but Roxie’s the real favorite whenever she makes a new batch of chocolates.”
“They are delightful,” Pati agreed.
Miguel smiled. He had a real sweet tooth and it had been a long time since he’d tried anything like chocolate. “Well, I’ve never been the sort to turn down a good meal. Don’t see the sense in starting now. Lunch sounds like a pretty good idea to me.”
His friend patted him on the back. “Great! It’s just at the end of Main Street, across from Pullen House.”
Miguel ambled alongside Pete and his wife. “That a boarding house of sorts?”
“More like a swanky hotel.”
Swanky? That sounded a little above Miguel’s pocket. He shook his head. “Fine chocolates and fancy hotels. Not exactly the sort of things I’d have thought to find in a small mining town.”
“Well, Winslet’s been setting up here for a while. He’s real generous, too. Doesn’t mind helping out folks whenever he can and encourages the town to grow—especially for those who left behind lives of luxury.”
Miguel nodded in agreement, but the wheels in his mind had already started turning again. A life of luxury. He had never really known such a thing. Even though his grandfather was one of the wealthiest around, he made sure Miguel remembered his place. That included the fact that he might have had his mother’s blood, but he still had his father’s Mexican heritage too. That didn’t make him quite good enough to carry the Delacroix name.
“There it is.” Pete pointed to a small building of clapboard and modest windows, a wooden walkway lined along the front side of it.
“Looks good,” Miguel said as they approached the building. He nodded at a pair of roughriders leaving the building, but then quickly ducked his head when they seemed a little too familiar.
Just to be safe.
Pete led the way inside, pausing momentarily as he entered. He made a show of taking in a strong whiff of the air. “Ah, almost as good as home. Almost.”
Pati gave him a playful nudge before moving away. “I’m off to see Roxie and find out what treats she has. Go ahead and order for me. You know what I like.”
Pete gave her a nod and grabbed a table for them to sit at. Miguel followed, noting that the diner seemed to do good business. Most of the tables were full.
“I’ve got to admit, I never thought I’d see the day when you were tied up. It seems to suit you, though.”
“Yes, sir, it does. I can’t imagine what my life would be like now without Pati in it. Blessings surely did just that—bless me beyond anything I could have ever imagined.”
“Well, I’m hoping for the same—a blessing that is. I’ll take mine in the form of some solid cash, though. I’m not at all interested in marriage.”
“Never say never,” Pete advised. “Stranger things have happened.”
“Maybe so,” Miguel agreed. “However, I’m not about to let them happen to me.”
He would have continued, but Paul León approached their table and the conversation died down. Pete made the appropriate introductions and then ordered for him and Pati.
“That sounds pretty good,” Miguel said. “It’s been a while since I’ve had any decent spoon bread. I’ll take some with my steak—medium rare.”
“And to drink, señor?”
Miguel’s brow shot up at the sound of Spanish being spoken to him. “Señor? Now why would you go and call me that?”
Confusion marred the café owner’s face. “My apologies, sir. I occasionally slip back into my native language.”
Miguel felt a bit like a heel for being so suspicious and jumping to conclusions. How would anyone in this small town know his true heritage? “No need to apologize. Just remember this is American country now. Might not do so well to speak Spanish around some folks.”
“Of course,” Mr. León agreed, apprehension still plagued his features and he shot a look of concern at Pete. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go get your lunch.”
Pete nodded, smiling. As soon as the owner walked away, he turned to Miguel. “Hey, you don’t have to worry about anything here. This town’s not like that.”
“Maybe not, but I’d rather not take any chances. You haven’t told anyone nothing about me. Have you?”
“What do you take me for? A rat? I ain’t said nothing about your past—on either account.”
Miguel sat back, only slightly relaxed. He didn’t like the idea of people knowing his heritage—didn’t want them judging him for it. However, the only thing that put a quake in his boots was the thought of someone catching on to the reason he pulled up out of New Mexico. He wasn’t about to be pinned for a crime he didn’t commit!
“That would be lovely. Thank you, Roxie.”
Pati joined them again and Miguel couldn’t help but wonder if his friend had shared their secrets with his wife. He raised a questioning brow at Pete who slightly shook his head with a negative, allowing Miguel to once again relax.
“Roxie has just agreed to be on the welcoming committee,” Pati happily reported. “She’ll be donating a small box of chocolates to any newcomers taking residence in Blessings. Of course, that will include you as well, Mister St. James. However, it’ll take a day or two since she doesn’t have any on hand at the moment.”
“That’s unusual,” Pete said as Mr. León approached, carrying a small tray of glasses filled with lemonade. “I’ve never known her to actually run out of sweets before.”
Paul León sat a cup down in front of Miguel, who marveled at the orange, lemon and lime slices garnishing the glass rim.
Fancy indeed.
He picked up the beverage and took a sip, delighting in the sweet mixture. “Well, if those chocolates are even half as good as this, then I’m sure to become a regular customer.”
“Not if Bart Frister has anything to do with it,” Paul groused. “Como un Don Juan, todo el mundo se olvidó.”
The digging remark about the wishful ladies’ man caught Miguel by surprise. He tried to swallow down his laughter despite the mouthful of lemonade. The results were disastrous. He coughed and spurted, wiping at his wet nose and tearing eyes. Several patrons chuckled, but it was the soft laughter from a nearby table that caught his attention. His mouth went dry to find an olive washed beauty boldly staring back at him. Amusement shone in her eyes until the woman she was dining with tapped her arm, making her quickly sober.
“You alright, partner?” Pete asked.
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br /> “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just hit a sour spot is all.” Miguel looked up to catch a disbelieving glare from the owner, and he quickly rushed on. “Or maybe I just swallowed wrong.”
The owner sniffed disapprovingly. “The food should be ready. If you’ll excuse me… sir.”
The way he stressed the word caused Miguel to inwardly cringe. Not even a day in town and he was already off on the wrong foot. He leaned towards Pete and whispered, “I think I might have made a bad impression with that León fella.”
“What? Paul? Nonsense. He’s harmless—you’ll see.”
Miguel wasn’t too sure he agreed, but didn’t think it was to say such—especially when the man crossed the room with yet another tray and set a plate of steaming food down in front of him.
“Much obliged,” he said and cut into his steak. “This looks perfect.”
The compliment earned him a nod of appreciation and the man went off again, smiling, to see to other matters.
“See? That wasn’t so hard,” Pete encouraged him. He seemed ready to say more, but the front door to the café swung open and caught his attention. “Well, if it isn’t the man himself. This here is the man I was telling you about. Michael, this is Winslet Atherton.”
Miguel moved to stand, but Winslet motioned him back down. “No need to trouble yourself, son. In fact, it gives me an excuse to sit myself down for a spell. That is, if y’all don’t mind me joining in for a glass of something cool to drink.”
“We’d be delighted, Mr. Winslet.” Pati gave the elderly man her best smile. He awarded her with one of his own, not the least bit bashful that a few teeth were missing.
Winslet grabbed a chair from a nearby empty table and pulled it up to join them. He stuck his hand out to Miguel. “Allow me to properly introduce myself now. Atherton Winslet, prospector and protector in this little piece of paradise, at your service.”
“Good to meet you, sir. Name’s Michael St. James and I’m just your run-of-the-mill cowpoke, looking to see what the west has to offer.”
“Well, Blessings has plenty, that’s for sure. Maybe you can tell us more about yourself and we can see where you might fit in best.”
“Yes, Mister St. James,” Pati finally spoke after taking a sip of her lemonade. “My dear Pete hasn’t shared much more than the fact the two of you served together in the war. Is that right?”
“Indeed, ma’am.” Miguel looked her way and caught a glare from the pretty lady who had laughed at him just a few minutes earlier. The searing look in her eyes made him feel like he was on trial for committing the worst imaginable crime. He cleared his throat, quickly cutting into his steak and shoving a forkful of the meat in his mouth, barely chewing or tasting it as he swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I’m afraid there’s not much more to tell. It was an unfortunate time for everyone involved.”
He busied himself with chewing, hopeful she wouldn’t ask any more questions and was thankful when Pete spoke up instead.
“Thankfully, that was a long time ago. Now you’ve arrived and I’m sure Mr. Winslet here wouldn’t mind taking you on at the mines.”
“Well, I’m not too sure.” Atherton sat back and scratched at his scraggly beard. “Kind of thinking we’re at quota right now.”
“At quota?” Pete asked, surprised.
“Yep,” Atherton insisted. “I think that’s about right. I mean, maybe we are and maybe we ain’t. I don’t feel right about taking the risk in case we are, though. I wouldn’t want to hire ya on just to let ya go again—or worse—have to lay off one of the old timers who’ve been loyal since we was digging out nothing but dirt. Nope, it wouldn’t be right. Besides, you don’t look much like a mining man to me at all. No, sir. Might be better suited for some other kind of work, though.”
Miguel perked up. “Oh, yeah? What kind of other work?”
“How do you feel about sawmills?”
A sputtering sound came from across the dining room and the pretty lady who had previously attracted Miguel’s attention bolted up from her seat, dropped a bill on the table and excused herself from her company.
“What’s with her?” Miguel mumbled.
Pete opened his mouth to speak, but Mr. Winslet gave him a soft kick under the table. He smiled up at Pete and slyly winked.
“Oh, that’s just Miss Chel. She’s one of those creative sorts—big into painting and such. You know how they are.”
Miguel didn’t know how they were, but something about paint tugged at the alcoves of his mind. “Well, I hope everything’s alright for her.”
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Atherton insisted. “Now let’s get back to what we were discussing.”
“Yes, you were telling me something about working at a sawmill. I think I’d like that. In fact, I believe I’d rather enjoy it a great deal.”
“Good. Then it’s all settled. I’ll take you down to meet the owner right after lunch.”
“Thank you kindly, sir.”
Miguel nodded at the elderly gent, but then glanced over at his newfound friends. He couldn’t help but wonder about their curious looks… nor shake the feeling that he was getting a whole lot more than a job at a sawmill.
Chapter 3
Araceli peered out of the office window for the third time. It would just be her luck that old man Winslet would get a crazy idea like some former soldier working for her father. It was no secret that the Arroyos had lost their land during the war. Considering the do-gooder that he was, Mr. Winslet had probably gotten it in his mind that he could help heal some old hurt by bringing together this solder and her family. It wasn’t going to happen, though. She’d see to that! She had sacrificed the opportunity to paint just so she could warn her father. However, the office was empty when she arrived. That meant he was probably overseeing the men who worked for him—maybe even up some tree himself. She hated the idea of him doing such dangerous labor at his age, but he insisted that he had the energy of a man half his age. Besides, there weren’t enough hands to go around. He needed to be there.
And that was why she was going to take matters into her own hands. She wouldn’t bother her father with trivial nonsense like an unwelcomed soldier. Instead, she would simply tell Atherton that there was no room for the newcomer.
The clopping of horse hooves caught her attention and she glanced out the window again. Sure enough, the two men came riding up in Mr. Winslet’s wagon with the stranger himself steering the thing.
Just like those American soldiers… always taking over.
Well, she would put an end to any possibility of it happening at the Arroyo Mill. Araceli rushed out into the main foyer and then abruptly stopped. Wouldn’t it look suspicious if she was already waiting for the men? She hurried back to the office she shared with her father and paced a few steps before spotting a stack of old invoices she had forgotten to file away. She snatched them up and rushed over to the cabinet that held all the important documents. The bell above the door chimed just as she started slipping the papers into their proper places. She waited to hear footsteps on the floor and a familiar voice called out.
“Howdy do?” Atherton Winslet said as he appeared at the office entrance.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Winslet. To what do I owe the privilege of your company? Are you needing more beams to brace the mine?”
The old man’s eyes twinkled and Araceli immediately realized the first mistake she made—not thinking past common pleasantries after she had overheard the man specifically suggest the soldier seek work from her father back when they were at the café. The elderly gent didn’t let on, though. He only gave her one of his crooked grins and motioned beside him. The soldier from earlier appeared, looking a bit surprised to see her. He removed his hat to properly greet her.
“How do you do, ma’am? The name’s Michael St. James.”
Araceli gave him nothing more than a brief nod, ignoring his look of continued surprise when she failed to introduce herself. Instead, she turned back to Winslet. “I’m sorry,
Mr. Winslet, but if you came looking for my father then I’m afraid you’ve arrived too late. He left a message that he would be working on site today.”
“Did the message say whereabouts he’d be working?”
Araceli pursed her lips together. Of course, her father had indicated where he would be working. After all the two of them had lost, they always kept one another informed as to where they would be in case an accident occurred. Well, almost always. There were a few excursions Araceli may have forgotten to mention. However, she kept them secret only because she knew how much her father would disapprove.
She didn’t feel much inclined to sharing any of that with old man Winslet. At the same time, what excuse could she give for withholding information as to where her father was? And she wasn’t a liar by any means.
“Yes,” she said.
The man waited a moment and then gave her an expectant look. “And could you please tell us where that would be, Miss Arroyo?”
“Well, I can but I’d have to warn you that he wouldn’t be much for visitors. He is very busy trying to meet a deadline.”
“Then he would more than likely welcome us with glee,” Atherton insisted. His face set with determination. Araceli inwardly sighed. There was no use trying to dissuade the man any longer. He was determined to speak with her father and Atherton Winslet was the sort to always get what he wanted in the end.
“He’s about a mile downriver,” she finally revealed.
“Very well. We’ll ride out that way to speak with him.”
Araceli watched as the men began to leave and was suddenly struck with an idea. If she was on site when they asked her father for employment, then maybe she could give him some kind of signal to warn him that this stranger was not to be trusted. She sped up to Winslet and his guest.
“Perhaps I should go with you,” she offered. “To make the appropriate introductions.”
“Then perhaps we should be properly introduced first.” Miguel gave her a roguish smile and offered a hand. “I never did catch your name, Miss.”