Lucky Creek Lady

by Shirley Kennedy

  “This isn’t my own mine or my own office,” he began. “But they’re basically the same, so I’m assuming Hugh mainly took care of the payroll. That’s a big job. Wasn’t that Hugh’s desk over there?” He walked to a large, battered desk and opened a few drawers. “Here we are.” He pulled a big blue ledger from one of the drawers. “Here’s what we call the time book. Sit down and I’ll show you.”

  Laurie sat beside him at the desk. He was looking at her strangely, as if he wasn’t sure she could understand. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

  “It’s a bit complicated.”

  Did he think she was an idiot? “Keep going.”

  “All right then.” He opened the ledger. “This is your basic book for payroll, or you can call it a ledger. There’s also a cash book and books for accounting, but this is the one you’ll mostly be dealing with.” He went on to explain how she was to write the name of each employee in the ledger. Then the foreman, or foremen, as the case might be, would insert the time in days, or proportions of a day, each person has worked, and the particular work he has been engaged in. “It makes a difference, you see. Men who work underground are paid more than those who work on the surface.”

  “I can certainly see why,” she said.

  “Yes, it’s a dangerous business. Payday comes once a week. Ordinarily the payroll master goes to the bank to get the money, but being as it’s you, we’ll get somebody else to—”

  “I am perfectly capable of going to the bank myself.” She’d come close to snapping at him.

  “Fine.” He sounded a little annoyed himself. “You will have an armed guard. That’s standard practice, whether the paymaster is a big, burly six feet two or…you.”

  What did he almost say? Something insulting, no doubt. Or a weak, insignificant female like you. “That makes sense, Mr. McKenna. Of course, I’ll need a guard. So, I take the money up to the mine and pay each miner what he’s earned. Sounds simple to me and nothing I can’t handle.”

  “I’m not so sure.” He leaned back in his chair and eyed her up and down, as if he felt the need to assess her carefully. “Some of those miners are rough characters, not the type of man you’re accustomed to. I mentioned the Cornish miners. They’re from the coal mines of Cornwall. That’s in England.”

  “I know where it is.” Good lord, did he think she was some kind of ignoramus who didn’t even know where Cornwall was?

  Blank-faced, he continued on. “They’re considered some of the best hard rock miners in the world. A rough bunch, though. They speak English, but they’re hard to understand. You might find—”

  “I shall cope, Mr. McKenna. Shall we move on?”

  “Fine, then. I’ve a few more things to show you, but if you think you’ve mastered the payroll, then after that we’re done.”

  “So, when should I start?”

  “Any time you want. There’s plenty to do, even though I’ll have to wait until the paperwork is complete before I can actually get underway.”

  Laurie looked around the office with a critical eye. Dirty, bare windows. Shabby furniture. Dust everywhere. “I’ll start tomorrow. If nothing else, I’ll get some curtains up before you even start.”

  His lips twitched with suppressed laughter. “Curtains are not at the top of my priority list, Miss Sinclair.”

  So, he found her amusing? Fine; she didn’t care. Curtains were on top of her list whether he liked it or not.

  Soon after, they closed up the office and returned to the curricle. “Do you think you can manage by yourself on the way home?” he asked.

  “I don’t know why not. It wasn’t nearly as difficult as I expected.”

  On the way back, she drove the curricle herself. This time, he rode his horse behind her after making some remark about “just in case.” She did just fine. “Just in case” didn’t happen, and she remembered how to hold the reins and the simple commands he’d taught her. All in all, the day had gone well, and when she pulled the curricle to a stop outside the stable in back of the house, she announced. “You don’t have to stay. I can do the rest myself.”

  “I’m sure you can but allow me to assist anyway.” At least he wasn’t smirking and seemed sincere enough as he helped her unhitch the horses. He instructed her on how she should rub them down and give them their oats. While she was doing that, she watched, silently grateful when he turned the curricle around and backed it into the stable.

  As he swung back on his horse, he called down to her. “There are times when you’ll need the wagon. In a few days I’ll show you how to hitch it up, too.”

  “Fine, then.” She waved a quick goodbye and in a buoyant mood walked into the house. The day had gone better than expected. How silly she’d been to fear she couldn’t manage something as simple as hitching two horses to a buggy. Maybe she could do a lot of things she’d thought she couldn’t, and this was just the beginning.

  Once inside the house, her spirits fell. The problems she hadn’t thought about all day began to surface. Had Mother gotten up nerve enough to dismiss Valeria? Probably not, and she, Laurie, would have to do it. How was Hugh doing? She hadn’t had the chance to visit today, and she must do so. And if by chance Mother had dismissed Valeria, who was going to cook dinner, clean the house?

  She looked forward to tomorrow, although she wasn’t sure why. Darcy McKenna didn’t like her. Plain to see he was only tolerating her because he had to. Although… She wished now she hadn’t been so snappish. Today, to her surprise, there were times when she’d actually enjoyed his company.

  * * * *

  That evening, Darcy sank into the one comfortable chair in his room at the Gold Spike Hotel. With a sigh of satisfaction, he gazed around at what had been his home for the past five years. Slightly on the shabby side, the room contained the one chair, a bed, plain wooden dresser and washstand. He might live in less than luxurious surroundings, but even so, he had no intention of moving. His good friend, Tom, recently remarked, “That place is a dump. Maybe you couldn’t find anything better when you first came to Lucky Creek, but there’s far better places now. Why don’t you move?”

  “What’s wrong with it?” Darcy had asked.

  “Your bed squeaks. That noise from below is so bad I don’t know how you sleep, what with the drunks and fancy ladies whooping it up every night.”

  Tom would never understand. Darcy himself hardly understood why, unlike his rich colleagues, he had no desire to live any differently than he had before he opened the Atlas. He’d wasted little time, if any, examining why this was so, but suspected his lack of interest in the luxuries of life had something to do with the fact he’d spent his entire boyhood in a coal mine. Twelve hours a day in total darkness. Sitting on a hard bench with nothing to do but listen for the next car coming so he could open the door and let it through. Except Sunday. God, how he’d looked forward to the one day a week he could see the sun, white clouds, the beautiful, blessed blue sky. When he was eleven, they promoted him to breaker boy. My God, how had he stood it? Hour after hour in the dim light, at least not alone but with other boys, their miserable faces black with soot, their spirits bitter and crushed. He was lucky he hadn’t lost a hand or a finger. Many did.

  Darcy pulled off his boots and dropped them on the floor. He looked around and smiled to himself. A dump? This room was a palace compared to eight hundred feet belowground in a West Virginia coal mine. He wasn’t like other men, never would be. Let them have their fancy mansions, fine carriages, and beautiful wives to show off. Marriage wasn’t for him, nor was flaunting his wealth in any way, whatsoever. For him, the luxuries in his life lay in the satisfaction he received from making a success of his mine, seeing his investments grow, although what he’d do with the money he didn’t much care. His room might be shabby, but its big window that faced east made up for it. As long he could see the sun rise over the mountains each morning, look up to a blue sky, he had ev
erything in life he’d ever need.

  A light knock sounded on his door. A soft, female voice whispered, “Darcy? Are you there?”

  He went to the door and opened it wide. “Come in. Haven’t seen you for a while.”

  Lucille Wagner, widow of hotel owner Lucius Wagner, stepped inside. Her salt-and-pepper hair piled in a knot atop her head indicated that she’d been in the world longer than he had, maybe by quite a few years. He’d never asked her age because it didn’t matter. At first glance, she looked like just another middle-aged woman in her high-buttoned, white shirtwaist and plain black skirt. Still attractive, though. She might have lost her girlish figure, but her comfortable curves and liveliness in bed made her all the woman he needed. Their relationship consisted of a lot more than just the sex, though. His words flowed easily when he talked to her. As she listened, those big grey-green eyes—her best feature—brimmed with humor and friendliness. Smart and insightful, she could hold her own on any subject they cared to discuss.

  He greatly admired her but didn’t love her, and she was fine with that. She didn’t love him either, although he sensed her warm fondness for him. Her husband had owned and operated the Gold Spike. When he died suddenly of a heart attack, everyone thought his modest, self-effacing little wife would sell. After all, she was only a woman, so how could she possibly run a successful business? But Lucille surprised them. She kept the hotel, and with a shrewd business sense that maybe even she didn’t know she had, took over the operation herself. With the improvements she made, and was still making, profits grew each year. Darcy had been friends with Lucius, but after his death, he and Lucille had drifted into more than just an ordinary friendship. She lived in a suite of rooms at the other end of the second floor, so what could be handier? They hadn’t planned it this way, but their special arrangement suited them both. Neither ever made demands on the other, nor expected anything of the other.

  Once inside, Lucille shut the door and inquired, “Where have you been?”

  He waved her to his one good chair and sat on the bed. “Here and there. Been busy.”

  She settled into the chair. “You haven’t been sick?”

  “No.”

  “You haven’t visited for a while.”

  What she meant was, he hadn’t come to her bed for a while. “Like I said—”

  “You’ve been busy.” A hint of a smile played on her lips. “I’ve missed you.”

  He owed her an explanation, but how could he explain when he himself wasn’t sure why he hadn’t paid a visit to one of the most understanding, sympathetic women he’d ever known. Sometimes when he went to her room, they just talked. He didn’t drink much, but once, when he’d had one too many beers, he’d let his barriers down and told her about his miserable childhood. She’d listened with such compassion that for once he held nothing back. Reached deep inside himself to a place he’d never visited before, to his agonized memories of the heartless greed of the mine owners, the cruelty of his parents, his desperate yearning just to look up and see the sun anytime he wanted. Yes, he could do that now, but even so, there were days when the world closed in on him, and he was still that young boy, helpless, trapped in the desolate darkness of a coal mine and there was no way out.

  She’d held him tight in her arms that night and whispered, “You must put it all behind you.”

  “I pretty much have,” he’d said.

  “No, you haven’t,” she told him. “The world sees you as a successful mine owner without a care in the world, but on the inside, you’re still a lost boy looking for the sunlight. If you don’t find it soon, it will ruin your life.”

  Silently he’d scoffed at her idea, and still did. Now there she sat waiting for an answer to her very reasonable question. Why hadn’t he been to see her? He’d be honest, like he always was. Never would he lie to Lucille Wagner. “I honestly don’t know why I haven’t been to see you. Busy, I guess. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “You’re always busy. It’s something else.” She thought a moment. “You’ve met a woman.”

  He burst into laughter. “I talk to women all the time, but I assure you, I haven’t suddenly lost my heart to one, nor is that likely to happen.”

  “Really?” The skeptical expression on her face clearly indicated he hadn’t convinced her. “Name some of the women you’ve had dealings with lately.”

  She had the wrong idea, but he’d humor her, despite her wrongheaded thinking. “Well, let’s see now… I’ve mostly been dealing with the Sinclair women. They’ve needed some help after Sam died.”

  Lucille nodded agreeably. “What a sad business that was. I’m glad you’re helping them. Mrs. Sinclair’s a fine woman. So’s Ada, such a likable girl, although it’s a shame she’s so shy. I don’t know Laurie that well, although I’ve seen her in church a few times. She hasn’t been here that long, but she seems a lovely person, quite beautiful, and I get the impression she’s settling into her new home quite nicely.”

  His head jerked back in surprise. “Where did you get that idea? Laurie Sinclair doesn’t belong in a place like Lucky Creek. She can hardly wait to get back to Philadelphia where life will be a hell of a lot easier than it is here. She likes her comforts and doesn’t want to stay in what she considers this hellhole a minute longer than she has to.”

  “My goodness, it seems you’ve taken quite an interest in that young lady.” Lucille regarded him through half-lowered eyelids. “Perhaps you have a special interest in her?”

  “Good God, no.” He explained how he was going to pay off Dominick’s loan. How he would own fifty-one percent interest in the Monarch Mine, and despite his preference to the contrary, was committed to working with Laurie Sinclair for a while. “At least she’s volunteered to help, I’ll give her that. She’ll leave soon as she can, though. The day her brother is well enough to take over, she’ll be hightailing it back to Philadelphia and that bug catcher fiancé of hers.”

  “Why don’t you like her?”

  Leave it to Lucille to ask one of those piercing questions that made him think. “It’s not that I don’t like her. It’s hard to explain. Laurie lived on Society Hill in Philadelphia. She grew up in a world centered on class and privilege. Lucky Creek is the last place on earth she’d pick to live. Like I said, she’ll head home at the first opportunity, which is fine with me.”

  “Really?”

  Lucille had that perceptive look on her face. He’d seen it before when she saw right through him. “Yes, really. She can’t help it, but she’s a bit of snob and she hates it here.”

  “Even though her mother and sister are staying?”

  “They want to move back, too. It’s a matter of money. At least they’ve made an effort to like it here, unlike Miss High-and-Mighty Laurie Sinclair.”

  Lucille chuckled. “My, my, Darcy, I hardly ever hear you make a derogatory remark, yet here you are, making no bones concerning your dislike of the young lady. But is it dislike? Are you sure about that?”

  “Very sure.” Was he lying? All day he’d been thinking about this morning and how she’d bravely undertook to harness the horses, despite her obvious fear. And then, when she’d fallen backward, and her skirt flew up? Seeing those long, slim legs, those slender ankles, caused an unexpected spike in his heartbeat. His breath had caught, and he’d barely managed to conceal the unexpected, and certainly unwelcome, effect she’d had on him.

  Lucille got up to leave. With a pleasant smile, she remarked, “I must go. Lots to do. I’ll not trouble you further. Remember, my door is always open.”

  After she left, Darcy sat staring into space. Whether he wanted to or not, he’d just hurt a woman he loved and respected. Of course, she was too much of a lady to show it, and had her pride, but he knew. What he didn’t know was why he hadn’t visited her room lately. She seemed to have this crazy idea that he had another woman on his mind, and in particular, Laurie Sinclai
r.

  Maybe there was some truth in that. Maybe more than he realized, especially after this morning, but what good would it do him? Laurie Sinclair loved some guy in Philadelphia who studied bugs. Holy hell, he couldn’t begin to deal with that.

  If he was smart, he’d be showing up at Lucille’s door later tonight.

  But somehow, he knew he wouldn’t.

  Chapter 7

  Next morning, Laurie found Valeria already in the kitchen. Wearing her bowler hat and bright skirt and shawl, she stood at the stove scrambling eggs with a big wooden spoon. Laurie had no idea how their Bolivian cook would take the bad news, but she could avoid the dreaded moment no longer. “Can I speak to you a moment?”

  Valeria turned to Laurie and inquired, “Yes?” in her usual blunt fashion. She wasn’t much of a one to dwell on the niceties of conversation.

  Laurie had to clear her throat twice before she could speak. “I’m so sorry about this, but we’re going to have to let you go. I’m sure you understand, what with our tragic loss of Mr. Sinclair. Of course, you’ll receive your pay and a week’s extra. I’d give you more if I could. You’ve always done an excellent job for us, and I can only hope you understand. And of course, I’ll give you a glowing reference should anyone ask.” There. The unpleasant deed was done. Not an easy task, but she’d done the best job she could and could only hope the cook would take the news well and not get too upset.

  Valeria dropped the spoon, crossed her sturdy brown arms, and glared at Laurie. “I’m not going.”

  For a moment Laurie could only sputter, unable to grasp what she’d just heard. “What do you mean you’re not going? I just dismissed you. Did you not understand? Like I said, you’ll receive all your pay and a week’s extra.”

  True to form, the fiery-eyed cook threw her head back and glared in defiance. Her broad face settled into uncompromising lines. “I stay here and work. You pay me what you can.”