"Is that all they taught you in that finishing school of yours? Fashion?"
Indignant, Ellie rose to her knees, hands on hips. "I know three languages, can program a computer, and--" She broke off at his look of astonishment.
"What's a computer?"
Oh, boy, now she'd done it. "It's, ah, new type of musical instrument." Struck by genius, she thought of the computerized keyboards all the pop stars used.
Jesse cocked his head to the side. "Musical instrument? And where do they use this?"
"At the opera." Hoping to get him off track, she continued, "I love the opera. We used to go every opening night for the new performances. The costumes were spectacular, and the music divine."
Apparently Jesse wasn't fond of music, because he rolled to his stomach in disinterest. "What else?"
"I also studied poetry, so I spent alot of time at the coffee houses and at poetry readings."
That caught his attention. "You actually like poetry now?"
"Yes, why?"
"I don't believe you. Who's your favorite?"
"Robert Frost," Ellie answered without hesitation.
"Ah-ha! I knew it! You don't like poetry, you just said that to rile me. I've never heard of Frost."
Ellie arched her brows. “What does a woodsman know about poetry?”
Jesse was acting like a child, but when he blushed at her comment, she felt she had injured his male pride.
“Mother had a fondness for the romance poets, so I grew up surrounded by books, especially the early poets. There’s something magical about the lyrical rhythm of the epics they wrote.” He gazed beyond her.
“I tried to read poetry to you. I even tried my hand at writing you a sonnet, but you laughed at me and called me a sissy.”
Ellie was appalled anyone could be so callous. Even though she wasn’t at fault, she felt compelled to apologize. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember doing that.”
“You were only ten at the time and I fourteen.” Jesse’s gaze slid away from her and Ellie thought perhaps the hurt was still there.
It seemed important to her to make it up to him. She gave him a gentle smile as she spoke. "Robert Frost is a fairly new poet from the New England area, so it's not surprising you haven't had the chance to read him yet.
"Part of one of his poems aptly describes my life here at Peavine, I think." She closed her eyes as she quoted, "'Two roads diverge in a wood and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.'"
Jesse stared, enchanted, as Elizabeth quoted poetry to him. Her face was serene, her voice a soft caress of the words. He shook his head in wonder. "You have really changed quite a bit, Elizabeth," he stated when she finished her short recitation. She frowned at his comment, and he wondered if she had misconstrued his compliment.
"I must go." She stood and began to gather their picnic things, stuffing them back into the basket. "I'm sure you have work to do."
"Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I probably should get back to the mine." Jesse scrambled to his feet as she tried to jerk the blanket out from under him. "Elizabeth, what's wrong?"
She looked at him then, but the tenderness he had seen earlier was gone, along with any hint of the laughter they had shared. "Nothing is wrong. Good-bye." She started down the path, only to turn half way around again. "And I told you I preferred being called Ellie, not Elizabeth."
"El--" He called her back, but she had already disappeared through the trees.
* * *
Ellie paced around the table in the kitchen, stopping to snub out her cigarette. "Damn, damn, damn!" She stomped a foot in agitation.
Lucky walked in the back door in the middle of her tirade. "Boy, Miss Elizabeth, how many times do I gotta tell you--"
"Just don't start on me, Lucky." Ellie turned on him. "And don't call me Elizabeth!"
She hated the woman, even though she had never met her. Ellie had only been in Peavine a short time, and already she felt something for Jesse Cole. And what did that man do but call her by another woman's name. It was irrelevant to Ellie that Jesse didn't know any better; that he thought she was Elizabeth. Somehow she felt he should know the difference.
By the time Zeke arrived, Lucky had fixed Ellie dinner and the two of them were playing poker at the kitchen table. Ellie guessed by the expression on Zeke's face that he didn't approve of the haze of smoke, nor the near empty whiskey bottle on the table. She shrugged.
"Wanna join us, Zeke?" She asked, squinting up from her cards. Zeke ignored her and glared at Lucky, who gave his brother a lopsided grin.
"I thought you were gonna come up with a plan to get Jesse outa this mess." Zeke issued the flat statement and Ellie hypothesized that he didn't want to play poker. Looking at her cards, then at the owl-eyed Lucky, she threw in her hand.
He had consumed far more whiskey than she had, which was why more money lay in front of her. She had wanted to get drunk, damn Jesse Cole’s hide, but in the end decided to use it to loosen Lucky's tongue and find out everything he knew about the man.
That hadn't worked. Either Lucky didn't know anything, or whiskey wasn't the way to get him to talk.
"Just exactly how involved is Jesse with Elizabeth?" She decided to get answers out of Zeke.
"What's that got to do with finding the murderer?"
She blew upward at the hair hanging in her face. Trouble with Zeke was he did know things, and was smart enough to keep them to himself.
"I already have a plan for getting at that information." She waved away his concern with a flick of her wrist. Ellie had decided on a course of action while Lucky was at the saloon. However, some morbid imp in her head wanted to know about Jesse Cole's love life. "I need to know if Elizabeth's been making out with Jesse. Don't you think it might be strange if I, as Elizabeth, suddenly decide not to anymore?" Although that’d be a cold day in hell.
Zeke turned the brightest red Ellie had ever seen a person turn. "Making out?" The words squeaked out of his mouth.
Ellie grinned. "Yeah, you know, sparking. Don't tell me they don't do that in the 1870's. Explain to me about kissing."
"Oh, boy." Lucky slapped a hand to his forehead just before sliding off his chair onto the floor in a drunken stupor.
Chapter 6
Ellie didn’t see Zeke or Lucky for several days after that. She imagined Zeke didn’t want to explain things to her, and Lucky was sure to have a hangover -- one which Zeke would rip him about. It didn’t matter, because she had things to do and would just as soon not have to explain herself to them.
First, she conducted a thorough search of the house. The Calhoun residence was small by modern standards, but she supposed it was equivalent to Country Club for Peavine, Nevada. There were only two bedrooms, the kitchen, a formal dining area and the front living room, or parlor as Lucky called it. Then, off one bedroom, she opened a door leading to what could only be Mr. Calhoun’s study.
She couldn’t find any indication that things at the bank weren’t on the up-and-up. It would help if she knew exactly what to look for, but since she didn’t witness the first go-round of the accident, she’d just have to wing it. She looked behind the pictures, pulled books from the bookcase and tossed back the rug on the floor, but couldn’t find a safe. Of course, why would a banker need a safe at home when he could keep all his stuff at the bank.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she debated her next move, and knew a trip to the bank would be necessary. There had to be a paper trail to help her understand what was going on. However, today was Saturday, so she’d have to wait a couple of days.
Being in Peavine equated with being on vacation in Ellie’s book, for the inactivity made her more tired than working. Used to a very active life, she tried to keep busy Saturday straightening up the house, even though it wasn’t hers and wasn’t really messy. She washed the dishes, rinsed out a few personal things and hung them on the line out back, took a nap and finally decided to walk downtown to the store.
Judg
ing by the duskiness of the sky, it was later than she thought, and she hoped the store would still be open. She was out of eggs and potatoes -- about the only things she knew how to cook without a microwave. She also needed to find out, without asking if possible, how to get more ice for the icebox. That sounded dumb, but unless she could find Zeke or Lucky, she couldn’t just come right out and ask when she supposedly lived here all her life. She didn’t even know how healthy keeping food on ice really was, but figured if people weren’t dropping like flies because of such a “marvelous invention”, then she could survive, too.
Whooping and hollering echoed along the boardwalk as she turned the corner to town. When she stepped past the post office, she could see hordes of men crowding the doorways of the saloons and spilling out of the boarding house. Amazed, she wondered where they had hidden all week. The other day when she’d ventured out, she hadn’t seen very many people at all.
“Well, howdy there, honey.” Rough hands grabbed her around the waist and sour breath assaulted her senses. “Are you a new little piece of sugar from Miss Molly’s sent here just for me?” Coarse male laughter accompanied the question.
Ellie reacted the instant the man touched her, but his strength and size overpowered her as he lifted her right off the sidewalk. “Let me go, damn it!” She swore between gritted teeth, swinging her arms and feet at her attacker.
None of her self-defense classes had included lessons on fending off an assault while wearing an ankle length skirt that kept wrapping around her legs. Ellie couldn’t find any skin to bite, and digging her nails into the man’s forearm didn’t faze him. She threw back her head, hoping to conk him on the chin, but instead left her neck exposed to his slobbery kisses. Bile rose in her throat.
“Looks like ya got a handful, Tom. Need some help?” Several male voices added to the clamor as panic knotted in Ellie’s stomach.
“Naw, I like a little fight in my women.” The man called Tom roared with laughter as Ellie fought all the harder.
“It’s too bad this particular lady isn’t your woman. Now put her down.” A calm but steely voice made itself heard over the crowd.
Tom turned to the source of the command; Ellie’s body flopping like a rag doll as she flew in a semi-circle, still clutched in the giant’s paws. Her relief at seeing Jesse quickly died when she noticed all he had to back up his dictate were wide shoulders and a brave stance. No gun or knife; no sheriff. Not that it mattered, apparently, for Tom immediately dropped her, and when Ellie teetered to the side, his previously rough hands gently set her upright.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cole. Is she your woman? You know I’d never mess with her if’n I knew she was yours.” The huge man, sounding so contrite, almost garnered sympathy from Ellie, until she recalled how brutal he’d been before Jesse appeared.
She whipped around to give him a piece of her mind, but Jesse caught her forearm and gently but strongly pulled her back against his side. Even though his gaze never left the gigantic miner, Ellie had no trouble hearing his softly whispered, “Don’t even think about it,” before he spoke out loud to the group of men. “Women should always be treated as ladies, regardless of whether they work at Miss Molly’s or are the banker’s daughter.”
Ellie frowned at the derogatory tone he used when labeling her “the banker’s daughter.” She didn’t know Miss Molly, but from earlier remarks, could only assume she either owned the saloon or a brothel; maybe both. Jesse’s words didn’t really answer Tom’s questions, and Ellie wondered if he didn’t think of her as his lady, or if she just didn’t qualify as a lady at all.
The men quickly dispersed after Jesse’s admonishment, and without a word he turned her around and herded her towards home.
“I have errands to run.” She stated as way of explanation for her appearance, though she didn’t know why she felt the need to excuse herself.
“It’s Saturday night.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
Jesse stomped onto the porch at Elizabeth’s house before answering. “For God’s sake, Elizabeth, I’m usually an easy going man, but the past few days you’ve tried my patience in more ways than one. Not to mention I left a perfectly good beefsteak to rescue you.”
For once, Ellie was glad Jesse called her Elizabeth. The name somehow excused her from feeling guilty at causing him such trouble. At the same time, the fact that he was eating steak while she had eaten her last two eggs -- scrambled -- made her mad. “That still doesn’t explain all the men on the streets. And what’s so special about Saturday night?”
Jesse ran a hand over his face in exasperation. “Have you forgotten everything since you came back home? The majority of men working the mines aren’t married, so they live right up at the mine sites in tents during most of the year. If Tom wasn’t one of my own miners, it probably wouldn’t have been so easy to get him to let you go. Those men only come down to town on payday, which is Saturday, and then it’s not always just to get a home cooked meal and a bath.”
Ellie actually blushed at the implications, but that raised another question. “If Saturday night is so special, why didn’t you come over to take me out?”
“Why would I do that?” Jesse looked at her with a startled expression. “While I will admit you’ve been on my mind alot lately, I don’t see the need to do things different than before.”
“Before what?”
An arresting grin on his face, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the porch rail. He raised one eyebrow and gave her a totally male, I’m-everything-you-ever-wanted, look. “Before you threw yourself at me the other day.”
Ellie hadn’t quit sputtering in anger before he leaned forward and quickly kissed her on the forehead, then turned and stepped off the porch.
“I most certainly did not throw myself at you.”
Rich laughter met her denial.
Refusing to give him the last word, Ellie responded in the heat of anger. “Well, if you’re too busy to take me out on a date, then I’ll just find someone who will.”
That stopped him. He turned, standing in the shadow of the house, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “OK, I’ll take you to church tomorrow. Will that do for a date?”
Secretly pleased with herself, if only for a small victory, Ellie smiled. “Yes, I think that will do nicely.” She gave him a little flip of her head and turned to go into the house.
Only in visiting with the minister after church the next day did Ellie find out that Jesse always took Elizabeth to church. The fact of the matter was both their fathers had been responsible for seeing the church built in the first place, and in recognition, the families had the very front pew together.
* * *
Ellie knew she had a quest to fulfill within the month, but it had become difficult to keep that separate from her growing infatuation for Jesse. Even when he made her mad, she wanted to spend time with him, to get to know him and what he liked to do and...well, more. At the same time, she knew she had to cultivate Clayton Scott’s trust to uncover the exact plan he had to take over the Nightingale Mine. After the little trick Jesse pulled Sunday, Ellie decided Clayton could very well serve an additional purpose in making Jesse jealous. She just hoped she could keep him under control.
While she would prefer Clayton not be at the bank when she arrived, she had to assume he would be. With that in mind, Monday morning Ellie chose a frilly dress with lots of ribbons. Lucky stopped by and stood there gapping at her like she was a Martian. When he opened his mouth, and Ellie just knew he was going to make some crack about her attire, she frowned so quickly he turned tail and ran without even having a cup of coffee.
Henry’s eyes widened when she opened the door to the bank. He stammered when addressing her, and Ellie had the uncomfortable feeling she had once again done or said something inappropriate for this time period.
“Miss...Miss Elizabeth. I haven’t seen you here since Mr. Calhoun...died.” The last word came out a strangled whisper, but at
least she now understood his nervousness.
Ellie couldn’t help but be moved. She reached past the bars of the teller cage and patted Henry’s hand. Even though Mr. Calhoun wasn’t her father, she felt empathy for Elizabeth and the people of Peavine. A shiver ran down her spine. Heaven forbid, but she was beginning to assimilate herself into 1870.
“It’s all right, Henry. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come in again.”
“Well, you never did come in much.” Henry amended his earlier statement, then apparently embarrassed by his outspoken words, he began stammering again. “I mean...other than to get money...” He finally gave up, staring down at the paper in front of him.
Ellie laughed, trying to defuse the situation. “I’ve decided to take a more active interest in banking, Henry. Could you please point me to Mr. Scott’s office?”
If Henry thought it strange that she didn’t know where the office was, he didn’t say as he reached around his partition and pulled open the half gate so Ellie could enter the back of the bank.
“I’m sure Mr. Scott won’t mind if I borrow his office for just a little while, do you think?” Ellie pasted on a smile as she opened the massive wood door to an office directly behind the teller’s cage.
Well, hell!
“Good morning, Elizabeth. You’re out and about early this morning. Do I dare hope you came all this way just to see me?” As suave as ever, Clayton rose when she entered and moved around his desk to take her hand in both of his.
Ellie sincerely hoped her facial expression didn’t give away her surprise at his being there, nor her hesitation as he kissed her gloved hand. She wanted him to be gone so she could check the bank records, but now if she just turned around and left, he would get suspicious.
She forced a smile and very politely accepted his offer to take an early morning ride in his carriage.
Prospecting for Love Page 7