by Jane Peart
Mr. Proctor’s list of services offered by the funeral parlor were given in a hodge-podge manner. Mindy’s job was to put them in some order. Across the top of the ad, Mr. Proctor wanted a boldface heading “HAVING YOUR SAY ABOUT YOUR LAST DAY.” To Mindy, this seemed too blunt. Still, since he was paying for the ad and the best position in the paper, she would try her best.
She carefully read what Mr. Proctor had written on his list: the casket prices from “fine imported mahogany you’d be proud of” down to the cheapest one of plain, unvarnished pine “you wouldn’t want to be seen dead in.” Mindy shook her head and laughed. If she didn’t know better, she could think Mr. Proctor was joking. “Selected fabrics for lining if you so desire. Your choice of religious services. We can make arrangements if you are not able to do so. We have printed eulogies to choose from, or poetry to be read at the gravesite. You can write your own obituary beforehand to be sent to relatives back east—highly recommended.”
Mindy remembered Byron’s quip at that final sentence phrase: “Highly recommended?” he had hooted. “By whom?” With a sigh Mindy took a fresh piece of paper and began putting the ad together. Neatly, she printed out the items in their logical order. She was making the final arrangement of the layout when she realized it was getting dark. She lit the oil lamp and brought it to her desk. She wasn’t sure just how long she had been working when there was a knock on the newspaper door. Who could it be? Maybe Byron had seen the light and come to investigate? She got up and carrying the lamp went to the door. Through the windowed upper half she saw the outline of a tall male figure. A familiar Texas drawl identified him, “Taylor Bradford, Miss McClaren.”
Mindy unlocked the door, and opened it. “Is anything wrong?” “No, ma’am, not a thing. I was just concerned some when I saw the light burning in here. Knowin’ nobody works on the paper from Thursday until Monday.”
“I had a special job I needed to do. That’s all. I’m sorry if I alarmed you. Everything’s fine. I’m finished and am about to leave.”
“Well, then, I’ll just wait and see you home.”
“There’s no need, Sheriff. It’s only to Mrs. Busby’s.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know that. But it’s Saturday night, and the saloons are doin’ a lot of business. Some brawls and worse bound to happen. Saturday night’s no time for ladies to be out and about alone.”
“That’s very kind of you, but I’m sure I’ll be perfectly all right.”
“Well, if you don’t mind, Miss McClaren. For my own peace of mind, I reckon I’d like to see you safely home.” The gentle voice concealed the firm steel of resolve underneath.
Mindy realized there was no use to argue. Taylor was determined.
“Well, if you insist.” Her tone was slightly exasperated. “I’ll just finish up this copy and put it on Pete’s desk to set on Monday. Then I’ll be ready.”
“You just take your time, Miss McClaren. I’ve got all night. Things don’t get real rowdy until about eleven. But I’ll be on duty till dawn anyway.”
Mindy was actually amused rather than irritated by the big Texan’s insistence. It was most thoughtful and considerate of him to be concerned about her welfare.
She put on her jacket and bonnet, and together they left the building. Mindy locked the door and, after a slight hesitation, took the arm Taylor offered her.
She had to admit there was something reassuring about being escorted by this tall, strong fellow. His commanding appearance alone would ward off any potential danger. As they passed the numerous saloons on the way to Mrs. Bus-by’s, raucous music, loud voices, and occasional shouts emerged from the constantly opening and shutting swinging doors.
When they arrived at the boarding house door, Mindy slipped her hand from his arm. “Thank you very much, Sheriff.”
“My pleasure,” he replied solemnly. Then he added, “Miss McClaren, would you do me a favor?”
“Yes, of course, what is it?”
“Calling me ‘Sheriff’ seems kinda formal. How about callin’ me by my first name, like we were friends.”
Friendships formed fast in Coarse Gold, Mindy thought. The social prohibition of Woodhaven, where a lady wasn’t called by her first name except by her relatives and a few close friends—and never by a gentleman unless they were engaged—didn’t exist here.
“If you’d like me to—”
“I sure would.”
“Well, goodnight, Taylor, and thanks again,” Mindy said and went in the house, smiling to herself. She was impressed. This was a man physically strong and yet gentle. A man who probably needed to be tough, who had faced many dangerous situations, risked his life often, and faced vicious outlaws numerous times. Still there was something endearing about Sheriff—no, Taylor—Bradford. Something she hadn’t given him credit for on first meeting. She must remember not to jump to conclusions about anyone. Especially here in Coarse Gold.
Chapter 14
The third week in October, the announcement of the Harvest Dance was brought to the paper. Contrary to the festival’s name, very few farmers actually lived near Coarse Gold, but the inaccuracy didn’t seem to bother anyone. This annual community party was a highly anticipated event.
“Kind of the last fling before the snow starts. Folks get pretty locked in then,” Byron told Mindy as he gave her the handwritten copy to edit and give to Pete.
In the dining room at Mrs. Busby’s boarding house, the closer the date of the dance drew, the more the subject was talked about at the table. There was a great deal of joshing back and forth, loud teasing about who any one of the miners might escort. Since there was a scarcity of young single women in Coarse Gold, Mindy was conscious of several hopeful glances in her direction. When the discussion became too personal, she would finished her meal and excuse herself before any direct invitation was posed.
As a matter of fact, Mindy had not planned to go at all until Byron told her that he expected her to cover it for the newspaper. There was no possibility of refusing the assignment.
“Everyone goes and everyone wants a mention in the write-up,” he told her.
“Do you go?” she asked, trying to imagine him in a social situation.
“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it. At least, I’ll put in an appearance.” He answered testily then went back to writing his editorial.
Timmy was the one who filled Mindy in on all the details. The dance was held in the storeroom above the general store. The wooden boxes were pushed back against the wall for the occasion to make room for a dance floor in the center. The floor was polished by dragging a heavy hay bale across the surface a number of times. The ladies of the town supplied pies and cakes, and as Timmy assured Mindy, there would be plenty of liquid refreshment.
Not unexpectedly, Taylor shyly asked Mindy if she would go to the dance with him.
“Thank you but I’m covering it for the paper, Taylor, so it will be more work for me than a social occasion.”
He looked disappointed but said, “I reckon it’ll be the same for me. Though I’ll not be there in my official capacity, you just never know when I may be called on. When some of these fellas get to imbibin’, there’s no telling what high jinks they’ll get up to.”
“I’m glad you understand, Taylor. A job’s a job.”
He was flattered. Mindy thought he understood, though really, he didn’t. At least about her job. He’d never known a woman who had any kind of work outside her home or who felt anything was more important than marriage or being a wife and mother. She was sure different from any of the females in his large Texas family, different from any of the girls he’d courted back home, and especially the type of woman he’d met since coming to Colorado. He was strongly attracted to Mindy McClaren, but he sure couldn’t figure her out. And that made him pretty uncomfortable.
The night of the dance, Mindy walked down main street on her way to the general store. She heard loud music pouring out through the windows of the second story. Once she was inside, the sound was almost dea
fening. Provided by a tinny piano brought over from one of the saloons, a banjo, a fiddle and a set of drums, the music was vigorously if not skillfully played. Dancers were already whirling around, arms flailing, feet sliding enthusiastically, unconcerned even if not in step or in time to the tempo of their own energy.
A bar had been set up along one side. Cowboys, three deep, were lined up in front of it, all with one elbow on the shiny surface and their bodies half-turned to watch the dancers spinning, their boot toes tapping. Mindy wondered if they were getting up the courage to find a partner and try their own luck on the slippery dance floor. Probably most of them had never even danced before, or it had been such a long time ago, in another lifetime back east. Whatever their reason, they were fortifying themselves for the effort much as they might at the start of a long cattle drive.
Lest they should run out of strength or zest to keep playing their instruments, the band was kept constantly supplied with drinks. The numbers of bottles set beside their chairs on the platform from which they swigged between numbers, increased at an alarmingly fast rate.
Mindy could not help but compare this scene to the decorum of dancing parties in Woodhaven. There, everything was done according to an established order. Ladies were given dance cards on which gentlemen politely requested their names to be written, a favor bestowed genteelly. Chaperones, overseeing those dancers, would have dropped over in shock if any man had approached a girl with the salutation, “If you ain’t spoken for, how about the next dance?” as was the common approach Mindy witnessed here.
Mindy moved around on the outskirts of the dance floor, nodding and speaking to the people she knew, making a few notes in the small notebook she pulled out of her pocket every once in a while to jot down a name in case she forgot it. She wasn’t sure when she became aware of the sensation that she was being watched. As if somehow compelled, she involuntarily turned and met the intense stare of a man directly across the room.
He stood head and shoulders above the men standing near him. It wasn’t just his height that made her notice him, however. The way he was dressed would have stood out in any crowd. He was wearing a well-cut gray broadcloth coat that reached the top of his black polished boots, a satin vest in a bold paisley design, an immaculate white ruffled shirt, and a black string tie. Apart from his attire, he was exceptionally fine looking. He had a magnificent head of wavy, chestnut brown hair. The eyes that held hers were dark but with a mischievous sparkle. While their gaze held, his mouth lifted in a slow smile—regarding her as if he already knew her. Mindy’s cheeks flamed hotly under his knowing glance. She felt a strange sense of recognition. But of course that was impossible. He was a total stranger. She had never seen him in all the time she had been in Coarse Gold.
She started to turn away but suddenly was unable to move. The man was sauntering toward her with an assured stride. The next thing she knew he was right in front of her. He towered over her with that disarming smile.
“Good evening, Miss McClaren.” His voice was deep with a kind of vibrancy that played on her nerve ends like the mellow sound of a cello.
“Good evening.” Mindy wished she didn’t sound so breathless.
“I haven’t had the pleasure of being formally introduced, so I hope you’ll forgive me my boldness approaching you. I’m Wade Carrigan.”
His manners were such a contrast to the rough-hewn regulars Mindy had become used to, she was taken aback. Inexplicably, Mindy’s heart somersaulted. It was insane. Instinctively Mindy knew that this man would be easy to fall in love with. And that would be dangerous.
“Would you care to dance?”
Actually Mindy had not planned to dance. She had only intended to “put in an appearance,” as Byron had suggested, take her notes, and leave. But she couldn’t resist this invitation.
Carrigan could dance—and he danced superbly. In his arms, Mindy glided easily, despite the wild music and the couples improvising around them.
As the tune came to an end she felt hot and very out of breath. Carrigan looked down at her and suggested they step outside for some fresh air. For a moment she hesitated. Was it wise to leave with someone she had just met?
However, the party had all the earmarks of getting more boisterous. The way both the musicians and guests were quaffing down the liquid refreshment, perhaps it was a good idea. As they made their way through the crowd Mindy felt the target of some resentful glances. Mainly from the men who were gearing up their nerve to ask the pretty newspaper lady for a dance. She caught Taylor’s dismayed expression as she passed him. He momentarily broke off whatever he was saying to two pretty blondes, who both looked glad to see Mindy go.
Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Byron at the bar and wondered if she should stop and offer to accompany him home. But Carrigan’s hand was guiding her firmly down the stairs and into the night.
Outside was cool and the dark sky full of stars. “This is certainly my lucky night,” Carrigan remarked. “This party was a surprise, and meeting you a pleasanter one. I’m just back in town. Been up at my silver mine. Brought some samples down to be assayed. My partner’s still there. It looks like we’ve struck a rich vein.” He paused, “I didn’t know there was a new reporter at the Gazette until someone pointed you out.”
“I’ve only been here a few months,” Mindy told him. “A lady reporter’s quite a novelty in this part of the country. I take it you’re from back east?”
It had been a long time since Mindy had been in the company of such an attractive man, who was evidently interested in getting to know her. In her nervousness, she heard herself rattle on about how excited she was to be here, how interesting she found the job, and how beautiful Colorado is. Finally realizing she was chattering like a magpie, she halted abruptly.
But Wade seemed to listen attentively. His eyes were fastened on her—not out of interest in what Mindy was saying, but because he was thinking how attractive she was. Compared to the usual women Coarse Gold offered, Miss McClaren was something entirely new. He enjoyed seeing how her eyes shone, how animated her expression, and how the light shining out from the windows above sent bronze glints on her auburn hair.
Realizing she had been going on and on while he said nothing, Mindy felt self-conscious. She took a few steps away, “I really must go.”
“Home? This early?
“No, to the newspaper.”
“Sure you don’t want to go back in? Dance some more?” He sounded amused.
“I think not.” In spite of herself her voice was regretful. “I like to write my reports up while everything is still fresh in my mind.”
“I take it you’re not a social butterfly?”
“No, I consider myself a working woman. Although that isn’t to say I didn’t enjoy the dance.”
So did I, and I was looking forward to another, maybe several.” He paused, “Any chance of seeing you again? Tomorrow maybe?”
“Tomorrow?” Mindy couldn’t believe the way her heart was hammering.
Carrigan fell in step alongside her, and Mindy realized he intended to walk her back to the newspaper office.
Do you ride, Miss McClaren? He asked.
“Yes, I do but—““Good. I stable two horses at Flaherty’s Livery. Would you like to ride into the hills tomorrow, have a picnic by the river?”
Mindy hesitated, “I haven’t ridden since coming here.”
“Well, not to worry. Both my mounts are gentle. You shouldn’t have any trouble. I’ll get the groom to side-saddle Sugarfoot. Shall I come for you at ten?”
“Ten would be fine—Oh, no, I almost forgot, tomorrow’s Sunday. I won’t be back from church until noon.”
“Ah, yes, keeping the Sabbath. Of course, you would.”
His tone was cool. Afraid he was about to withdraw his invitation, Mindy suggested, “You’re welcome to attend. We could leave directly after service was over.”
Wade gave a short laugh. “Thank you, but no thanks. It might upset the congregation too muc
h to see me there. Not tomorrow anyway. Perhaps another time.”
They had reached the newspaper building. Wade glanced at the darkened interior.
“Surely you’re not going in there and work alone at this hour of the night?”
“Oh, yes, I often do. It’s sometimes easier to work when everything is quiet. No one coming in to disturb my train of thought.”
“Are you able to manage your train of thought so neatly, Miss McClaren? I’m impressed. I find my own thoughts run amok at times, and I have no control over them at all. As well as my feelings. They are the hardest to keep on a tight rein.”
Mindy heard the innuendo in his words that would be risky to explore, “Well, thank you, Mr. Carrigan for escorting me.”
Wade put out his hand on her arm to detain her. “Wait, please. Where do I come for you tomorrow?”
“I board at Mrs. Busby’s.”
“Aha, the doyen of landladies,” he chuckled. “My calling for you there should start the rumor mill humming.”
“Would you rather I meet you somewhere else?”
“No not at all, Miss McClaren. I am always delighted to give the town something to gossip about.” Wade laughed then placed his hand under her elbow and escorted her right to the door. “This has been a most happy chance, Miss McClaren. I look forward to tomorrow with great pleasure.”
Chapter 15
Mindy stirred restlessly in the pew. The sermon this Sunday seemed interminably long. Her thoughts kept straying to the fascinating man she had met the night before, Wade Carrigan. She was also uncomfortably conscious of the fact she had worn her best bonnet to church and that the hat pins securing it were jabbing her scalp. Well, soon she would be rid of both the hat and her tightly laced corset.
She was really looking forward to being on horseback again. She had never owned a formal riding habit, but her denim skirt, and jacket in a becoming blue, should be suitable for the ride into the hills. She would wear the broad-brimmed Goucho hat with its leather chinstrap and tie a scarf around her neck.