Undaunted Spirit

by Jane Peart

  Suddenly the minister’s voice reached her distracted ears. The Scripture he was using to base his message seemed directed at her own preoccupation with appearance. Matthew 6:28: “Consider the lilies of the field, they do not toil, neither do they spin, and yet Solomon in all his glory was not clothed as one of these. Therefore do not worry saying, ‘What shall we wear? What shall we put on?’ for after all these things the Gentiles seek. Seek first the kingdom of God. . . .” Convicted, Mindy sat up straighter. Instead of listening she’d been concerned with how she would look to a perfect stranger.

  For the next half-hour she tried to concentrate on what Reverend Thompson was saying. Afterward, she hurried back to the boarding house to change.

  As she came out to the hallway on her way to wait for Wade on the front porch, she ran into Mrs. Busby. “Coming in to dinner? I’ve got your favorite apricot cobbler for dessert.”

  “Not today, Mrs. Busby. Actually, I’m going on a picnic with Wade Carrigan.”

  Mrs. Busby gasped “A picnic? With Wade Carrigan? Surely not alone?”

  “Why, yes, Mrs. Busby, why ever not?”

  Usually not easily surprised, Mrs. Busby seemed flustered. “I know you’re new in town and not expected to know everything—but it’s just that Wade Carrigan has a well-known reputation for being a lady’s man, to put it mildly. Certainly not your type of gentleman, dearie.”

  Mindy had become used to Mrs. Busby’s take-charge attitude to everyone under her roof. But this seemed a little much. After all, she was a grown woman, on her own, making her own living, certainly capable of good judgment in choosing friends.

  She didn’t appreciate this unsolicited advice. Mainly because it triggered a little unease on her own part of having accepted Wade’s invitation on such short acquaintance. But she couldn’t back out now. First, because it make her seem unsure and immature. “He seems perfectly gentlemanly to me, Mrs. Busby.”

  Mrs. Busby looked a little chagrined as if she realized she may have overstepped her place. She pursed her mouth as if to say more then decided to let well enough alone. She gave Mindy a “don’t say I didn’t warn you” look and murmured, “A word to the wise is sufficient” as she went to ring the dinner bell with more than usual vigor.

  Wade was waiting outside, with two horses. He helped Mindy up onto the one with the side saddle, then mounted the other, “Well, we’re off.” Mindy turned her horse, and together they walked them down the dusty Main Street. Mindy imagined not only Mrs. Busby’s sharp eyes following their progress, but many other curious pairs as well.

  The river was about four miles out of town. I It wasn’t a river, really, but just a dry narrow path fed by the spring melt and lined with willow trees. That day it seemed to have a magic all its own. The autumn haze softened the landscape, the sounds, and the very wind that gently stirred the aspen trees in the grove Wade chose for their picnic.

  The ride out from town made them hungry for the picnic lunch of ham, cheese, hard-boiled eggs, apple tarts, bottled lemonade, and root beer. Afterward, they walked along what would have been the riverbed after a summer cloudburst. Mindy was becoming accustomed to the starkness of the Colorado landscape yet found in it a beauty untarnished by expectancy. It was new and different from the lush green of the countryside where she had grown up but that made it even more interesting.

  She did most of the talking. Wade’s attentiveness encouraged her to tell him more about herself than she had told anyone since coming west. She told him about some of the things she had written, the articles on women’s education, the features she had done in the Dixie Dillon column. This especially amused him. He threw back his head and laughed heartily when she recounted some of the letters and some of her replies. “So you give advice to the lovelorn, Miss McClaren. I shall have to remember that if ever I’m smitten.”

  The fact that she could amuse him and receive such undivided attention was flattering. Since going to work at the Gazette, Mindy had worked such long hours that she had almost forgotten what fun a carefree outing could be. She found Wade utterly charming and not a bit threatening, as Mrs. Busby had intimated. As the shadows began to lengthen, she was sorry to see their wonderful time together come to an end. She had enjoyed the ride, the picnic, and the fun and pleasure of a delightful companion. They rode back into town at dusk and parted at the boarding house steps.

  Mindy did not want to join the rest of the boarders for supper. She slipped past the dining room, where the sounds of clanking plates, water being poured into tumblers, and the rattle of silverware mingled with voices and laughter. She didn’t want to meet Mrs. Busby’s disapproving glance nor have the day she had enjoyed spoiled by questions or explanations.

  That night she slept soundly, awakened later than usual. She had to hurry to get to work. When she arrived, however, the newspaper office was still locked. Timmy, who did not have a key, was sitting dejectedly on the steps. It seems Karr had not shown up—unusual for a man who often worked with a hangover on Mondays. Upon checking, Mindy discovered that starting Saturday night of the Harvest party he had gone on a longer, worse binge over the weekend and was sleeping it off.

  Karr didn’t come in until late Tuesday afternoon. Although apologetic, he was unable to do much work. Mindy suspected from his frequent trips over to the Golden Slipper that he was trying the legendary but untrue remedy of ‘the hair of the dog that bit you.’

  Mindy gathered together the main stories for the week and wrote a glowing report of the Community Harvest Dance, filling in some of the gaps of information she had missed by leaving early with Wade Carrigan. On Wednesday afternoon, with the paper almost ready to “be put to bed,” Mindy chanced to look up from her desk and saw Wade enter the newsroom. She had been so busy taking over Byron’s work she had hardly time to recall the day they had spent together.

  As Wade approached her desk her heart gave a little flip-flop. His eyes darkly mischievous, he told her, “I’ve got the horses saddled and ready to ride.”

  She would have liked nothing better than to say yes, to jump up from her desk, and run hand-in-hand with him out of the grubby newsroom, away from the smell of printer’s ink and the clunk of the old press, to ride with the cool wind in her face out to where the jagged blue line of the hills met the sky.

  Regretfully, she turned him down. She still had a few items to finish so that all the copy would be ready for Pete to set. “I’ll have to work into the evening to make sure all the deadlines are met.”

  Wade seemed reluctant to accept her refusal.

  “You’re sure I can’t tempt you?”

  Mindy shook her head. She couldn’t depend on Byron. “Sorry. I really can’t. Karr is—well, not feeling well. It’s up to me to get the paper out.”

  “You’re a woman of discipline, aren’t you?” She couldn’t tell if Wade was mocking her or if there was a note of admiration or something else in his tone.

  “I just try to be responsible. People expect the paper will be out tomorrow.”

  “Karr doesn’t seem to care.”

  “But he does!” Mindy rose quickly to the editor’s defense. “It’s just that he has this—problem, sometimes.

  A strange expression passed swiftly across Wade’s face.

  “Are you always so understanding about other people’s weaknesses, their faults?”

  Not wanting to seem sanctimonious, Mindy stammered a little, replying, “I try to be. I have enough failings of my own to be tolerant of someone else’s.”

  “‘He who casts the first stone,’ right?” Wade said sardonically, raising his eyebrows. “The Christian virtues of compassion and forgiveness.”

  She was surprised at his quoting Scripture. It seemed out of character somehow. But then she reminded herself she did not know Wade Carrigan all that well.

  “Aren’t we all supposed to be?”

  “If we live by those rules.”

  For a moment Mindy saw something in Wade’s eyes that troubled her. A darkness. Melancholy? Bef
ore she could discern what it was, he smiled.

  “Well, if I can’t lead you astray, I’ll go.” He walked to the door, then turned back to say, “I’ll be thinking of you grubbing here while I’m out enjoying the great outdoors.”

  He left and she struggled to get back to work. Their enigmatic exchange kept cropping up in her mind. Wade Carrigan was more than a handsome façade. There were layers and layers within him that would be fascinating to unravel. It was late when she finally got up from her desk, stretched her aching muscles, picked up her jacket, and blew out the lamp. She made her way across the room to the door, went out, and locked it behind her.

  “All done?” a deep male voice asked. Startled Mindy spun around practically into Wade Carrigan’s arms.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for you. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

  At one point, as they chatted about this and that on the way to Mrs. Busby’s, Mindy was aware of a spicy smell, the hint of tobacco and fresh linen. For a moment, she felt almost dizzy and quickly moved away. But it was too late; he had already reached out, circled her upper arms with his strong hands, and pulled her close. Before she knew it, he was kissing her as she had never before been kissed. Not possessively nor passionately, but with an assurance that was more unsettling—as if he knew she wanted to be kissed.

  When she could breathe again, she drew back, looked up at him. Wade spoke softly, “I’ve wanted to do that since Sunday. I didn’t dare. I was afraid I’d scare you off. Now I’m not so sure that would happen. You are some lady, Miss McClaren. I have an idea you don’t scare easily.”

  Later, that night, Mindy lay in bed, wide awake, the memory of his kiss still vivid. Her cheeks warmed as she remembered how she had responded. That had never happened with Judson, the only other man whom she had ever kissed. And they were practically engaged at the time.

  She never intended for something like this to happen. Falling in love wasn’t in her plan. Being in love made a woman vulnerable, dependent. She had come out west to avoid that. To reach her own goals, realize her own dreams. Falling in love with a man like Wade Carrigan could be a disaster for someone like herself. He was unlike any other men she had known; her father, her brothers, Farell Judson, who lived by the established code of ethics. Wade sauntered through life making his own rules.

  While his difference made him fascinating to her, Mindy wondered what he had seen in her? She tried to remember just what they had talked about the day of the picnic. He seemed to like hearing about her, about her hometown, her family, and he especially liked to hear about her relatives—the odd names of the various ones amused him.

  “What about your name?” he had asked. “Mindy must be short for something. Minerva? Minetta?”

  “You’d never guess,” she said, then explained about Farell’s stammer. “My brother couldn’t pronounce my real name, so I became Mindy.”

  “So what is it then? I’m curious.”

  “Independence.”

  Wade looked amused. “Independence! That figures. It suits you.” It occurred to Mindy that, although she had told him practically her whole life story, she had not learned much about him. Wade talked little about himself. When Mindy tried to probe gently about his background—how, when, and why he’d come to Coarse Gold—Wade deftly changed the subject. “I have a checkered past you wouldn’t want to know about.”

  During the next week, Mindy moved like a person drifting in a cloud. She found Wade irresistible. A reporter learned to look beneath the surface, to observe people, ferret out the motives for their behavior and actions. But with Wade she drew a blank. She knew there must be more to his character hidden beneath the smooth, self-assured façade. She had seen beneath Judson’s mother’s refined veneer to discover that she had a fishwife’s temper and vocabulary. She recalled telling Wade about the incident at the Powells’ anniversary party and how it had pulled the scales from her eyes to see a horrid, mean-spirited personality revealed. “Things were certainly not what they seemed.”

  “Things seldom are, Mindy,” Wade had replied with unusual seriousness.

  In the days that followed Mindy was happy just being with him. That was enough for now. Maybe when they got to know each other better, she would find out about his life before Coarse Gold of which Wade gave her no clue. His tender, teasing manner warded off inquiry and Mindy was too enraptured to pursue it. She left her reportorial skills at the office when she was with Wade.

  On Monday of the second week, Mindy woke up after a lovely dream. She lay there for a few minutes smiling. Of course, Wade was in it. But the dream was not even as pleasurable as the reality.

  She and Wade had spent almost the entire weekend together. She felt guilty about it skipping church because Wade suggested they ride out early and watch the sunrise together. “I must be stronger, not give into his whims so much,” she told herself half-heartedly as she got dressed. These days she spent more time fixing her hair and choosing her wardrobe—in case she were to see Wade. He dropped by the newspaper any time of the day. She never knew exactly when. Funny, she used to not care how she looked because she was always in a hurry to get to the newspaper. Lately she had been meeting Wade for breakfast at the Palace Hotel, where Wade was staying. Mindy hummed happily as she buttoned the white ruffled blouse and slipped on the blue jacket that nipped her waist above the flaring darker blue skirt. A quick check in the mirror showed her a little pale with faint lavender shadows under her eyes from keeping such late hours. Wade never wanted to say goodnight and they lingered long over parting. In spite of the pallor, there was something new and shining about her. She had the look of someone who had been told she was lovely and had recently been often and thoroughly kissed.

  Her step was light as she crossed Main Street, went up the steps of the Palace Hotel, and walked into the dining room. Only a few people were there. The table Wade usually occupied by the window was empty. Maybe, he hadn’t come down yet. Mindy turned and looked expectantly toward the staircase, imagining that any minute Wade would descend, freshly shaved, groomed, his suit pressed, boots polished, and linen spotless. But he was nowhere to be seen. The clerk behind the desk was reading, a penny dreadful with a lurid cover of a cowboy shoot-out. Mindy did not want to ask him about Wade or show undue interest in him. The lobby of the Palace was a hotbed of gossip. That the woman newspaper reporter was inquiring of the whereabouts of the dashing Wade Carrigan would make a juicy morsel to pass from ear to ear. So, instead, Mindy waited until Bertha, the waitress she knew, emerged from the kitchen with a large platter of scrambled eggs and sausage. After Bertha had set it down on a nearby table, she saw Mindy, nodded, came over to her, wiping her hands on her blue checked apron.

  “Mornin’, Miss McClaren, what’ll it be—hotcakes or muffins?”

  “Just some coffee, please, Bertha.”

  “That ain’t enough to keep a bird alive. You ought to have a stack and some bacon, mebbe?”

  “Thanks, Bertha. But that will be enough for now.” Then as casually as she could manage, Mindy asked. “Has Mr. Carrigan had breakfast yet?” In spite of herself, she felt a blush rising into her cheeks.

  Bertha, busy wiping the oil-cloth cover on a nearby table, answered, “Oh, he come down early. Jest as we was opening the kitchen. Had his usual ham and eggs. Then he rode off. He’d left orders at the stables last night to have his horse ready, and we packed his saddle bags with enough grub for a long ride. I ’spect he’s gone out to his mine.”

  Gone? Without a word? Without even a mention of it the night before? After the way he’d kissed her? Mindy’s face flamed. Why hadn’t he said anything about leaving? She had a hard time concealing her shock. She took a sip of the coffee Bertha poured for her.

  She should have known better. It was her own fault she was hurt. She had allowed Wade Carrigan entry into a heart she had thought protected. A deep sense of betrayal trembled all through her. She got up, left the dining room, went back across the street to the boar
ding house, and back into her room. She was shivering uncontrollably. She would have to pull herself together before going into the paper. And she better start working on forgetting Wade Carrigan.

  Chapter 16

  As if to match her downcast mood, the weather turned gray. October’s beautiful blue skies became heavy with clouds, and it rained steadily.

  In the wake of Wade’s sudden, unexplained departure, Mindy struggled to deal with her heartache by throwing herself into her work. She should never have let it happen. For a few short weeks, she had let herself be diverted from her goals of becoming a topnotch newspaper journalist. She despised her own weakness for falling in love so easily and so hard with a man she hardly knew.

  In spite of her decision to forget him, she kept thinking over the events of their time together, wondering if it was something she had said or done that had made him wary. In spite of his obvious attraction to her, Wade had never once said the words she longed to hear: “I love you.” Was the romance all in her imagination?

  Mindy was sure Byron had observed her preoccupation with Wade. He often took his meals at the Palace and had seen the two of them eating dinner together, sometimes breakfast. He couldn’t miss Wade showing up at the news paper office, and then notice that Mindy would hurriedly clear her desk and leave with him. He’d made no comment, but Mindy was aware of the calculating glances he had given her when he caught her daydreaming over her work.

  Mindy determined to stop thinking about Wade. She would concentrate on carving a niche for herself at the Gazette, make a name for herself in journalism. She searched for an idea for an article of local interest told from a woman’s viewpoint.

  In a conversation with Mrs. Busby, the seed for one was planted. Quickly, Mindy outlined the idea to Byron. He leaned back in his swivel chair; a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “So you’re back to being a real newspaper woman, are you?”

  Mindy blushed but lifted her chin defensively. “I’m always that, always looking for a good story, wherever it is, whoever may have it.”