An Unlikely Mother

by Danica Favorite

  Will stood and looked at George with sympathy. “I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you. You’ve faced a great deal of loss lately.”

  “I don’t care about that.” George took a deep breath. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss my father. But that woman, the one who died today, she had a family, and I’m sure they will miss her every day for the rest of their lives, just like I will always miss my father. I know I didn’t cause her death, but it happened at my mine, and I feel responsible for bringing whoever caused the explosion to justice. I don’t care how difficult it is, whatever must be done, I’m willing to do it.”

  George stood, straightening his back. “So, what now? If telling the truth about my identity is what needs to be done, then so be it. But those men, they hate the Bellinghams, because they blame them for poor management and low wages. I’m willing to be hated, but I think they’ll talk more to George Baxter than George Bellingham.”

  “I agree,” Will said. “Which is why I want you to keep up the charade. We’re going to put more pressure on the culprits to draw them out.”

  The lawman looked over at John. “I realize this potentially puts your family at risk, and I promise I will have my best men here at the house to protect them. But if you’re willing, I’d like you to make it known that the accident has strengthened your resolve to buy the mine. You realize that it could have been your daughter who died, and you are going to buy the mine to prevent such a tragedy from ever happening again.”

  “I already intended to do so. Not just in word, but in deed. And for exactly the reason you stated. I will not be bullied or cowed in or out of a business deal. Whatever assistance I can give, you can count me in.”

  Will nodded. “Good. I’d like to also let it be known that George Bellingham himself will be coming to stay with you to work out the details. You’ll tell people that George here is your new right-hand man to oversee the mining parts. That way, people aren’t suspicious of having him around.”

  He turned to George. “I want you to talk to your friend at school who’s covering for you and have him aware of what’s going on in case people ask questions. I’ll find someone to pose as George Bellingham when it’s time for him to come to town.”

  “What about my family?” George asked.

  “For now, I want them in the dark. The fewer people who know what’s going on, the better.”

  The plan made sense. Especially because he didn’t want to worry his mother or Julia. Knowing Arthur, he wouldn’t be able to help himself from telling his wife. The couple had always been close, which was one of the other reasons George couldn’t see Arthur knowingly being involved.

  Will gave George a solemn look. “I know you say that you trust your father’s advisor, Robert Cooper, but I’d like you to write down everything you know about him and all of his associates, particularly anyone who might connect him to this Ross fellow. Ross’s son might be innocent, but if this is how Ross would operate, my guess is that there’s someone close to the family with the same way of operating. Who better than the advisor who took over after Ross’s death?”

  “Of course.” George nodded. “I truly believe that no one we know could be involved in something so dastardly, but I have been away at school for a couple of years now, so there could be something I’m missing. I’ll do anything I can to help.”

  Though he tried sounding confident in his belief in his father’s friends, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he might be wrong. He had been gone a long time, and before college, he’d spent time traveling, because it was something his father wanted him to do. Before that, he’d been in boarding school. If George was being honest, he didn’t really know anyone at all.

  “Good,” Will said. “A friend of mine, Owen Hamilton, will be calling on you. He used to be a deputy in Denver, but he recently bought a ranch and moved here with his family. I’m going to have him investigate your family and their connections, see if there’s anything that turns up.”

  Will had been gently prodding him in this direction, but George finally accepted that, despite all his faith in his loved ones, he could be terribly wrong. That was the difficulty in the situation. The piece that seemed almost unfathomable. But until today, George would have said that an innocent woman dying at his mine was equally so.

  Anymore, he didn’t know what to believe. All he could do was hope and pray that no other innocent lives were lost in this dangerous game.

  Chapter Eleven

  Waking up in her own bed was a pleasure Flora hadn’t thought she’d find so absolutely delectable. Who knew that one could enjoy a bed so much?

  Flora stretched and smiled, then realized that Pierre was still curled up next to her.

  And then she remembered everything that had happened the day before. Suddenly, it didn’t feel right to enjoy having such comfort, knowing that today children would be waking up without a mother.

  It should have been her.

  Though everyone had been telling her differently, it didn’t ease the pain in her heart that a woman had died doing a job that was supposed to have been Flora’s.

  Pierre stirred and looked up at her, his dark eyes full of confusion.

  “Good morning,” she told him gently in French as she gathered him into her arms and hugged him. If there was a positive in yesterday’s horrible situation, it was that she needed to count her blessings and be sure her loved ones knew how very dear they were to her.

  “Où est George?” Pierre asked, looking up at her.

  Where is George? Flora sighed. The last thing she wanted was to talk about him. In the past, Flora would have made a snide comment, letting Pierre know what a horrible person George was. The liar. But not only did George’s lie have no bearing on Pierre, but it hardly seemed fair to tear down one of the few people Pierre had left these days.

  The old Flora wouldn’t have hesitated. Would have only thought of her own rage at being deceived.

  “I don’t know,” she told him gently. “But let me get dressed and we’ll go find him.”

  Flora put on her robe and opened the door, peering out to see who was around.

  “Miss Flora!” One of the maids was coming down the hall. “You’re awake.”

  “I am,” she told the girl, smiling. “Could you please take my young friend to the kitchen and help him find some breakfast?”

  Flora turned and gave Pierre instructions in French. Then she brought her attention back to the maid. “Please be kind to him. He doesn’t speak English, so if he does something wrong, do not shout. He doesn’t understand, and it will only make things worse. Come get me, and I’ll deal with the situation.”

  “Yes, miss.” Then the maid bent and spoke to Flora’s charge in perfect French.

  “Wait,” Flora said as the maid started to leave with Pierre. “You speak French?”

  “My family comes from France,” she said. “My mother and sisters all work for the dressmaker, producing the finest fashions from Paris. But I have no skill with the needle, so here I am.”

  The maid ruffled Pierre’s hair. “He is adorable. Where did he come from? Our family knows everyone from France, and I do not know anyone who has a little boy.”

  Flora explained the situation to the maid, who looked puzzled. “That is simply not possible. No one from my country would abandon their child like that.”

  “I don’t think he was abandoned. Who could abandon a child like Pierre?” She took a deep breath, hating to give voice to her concern, but after yesterday’s events was better able to face tragedy. “I fear something terrible happened to his father, but he seems to have disappeared without a trace. There’s some mix-up at the mine as to whether or not he worked there. Could you ask among your people if they knew Pierre’s father?”

  “Of course! Perhaps my father knows something I don’t.”

 
“Thank you.” Flora smiled at her as she took Pierre’s hand. The maid turned to guide him downstairs, but Flora stopped them.

  “Wait. I realize this sounds incredibly rude of me, but I don’t know your name. I’m so sorry. I should know our staff, but I don’t. Until recently, it didn’t occur to me that you were a human being, just like me. I hope to behave differently in the future.”

  The young woman smiled, pretty dimples in her cheeks that Flora would not have noticed in the past. “It’s Marie, Miss. And I will take good care of Pierre.”

  Though people in Flora’s social circle had always called it unseemly to be too familiar with the help, Flora realized, as Marie left with her charge, that it seemed even more wrong not to know who was in your home, caring for your children. How could she have let someone whose name she didn’t even know take care of Pierre?

  Flora reentered her bedroom and looked through the dresses in her wardrobe. Though her father had teased her about buying her more, the number of dresses she owned seemed almost overwhelming. Worse, as she looked at each garment, she realized how unsuitable they were for caring for a small child.

  Pierre liked to run and play, and though Flora had not yet acquired his affinity for mud, she also knew that staying neat and tidy when he was around was nearly impossible.

  “Miss Flora, you’re awake.” Agnes bustled into the room, carrying a tray. “The maid brought the little boy down, and they are chattering up a storm. How fortunate to have someone to take that child off our hands.”

  “Her name is Marie,” Flora said, turning her attention back to the dresses. “And she’s not taking Pierre off anyone’s hands. I accept full responsibility for him until we can find his father.”

  “Yes, of course it’s Marie,” Agnes said. “They’re all called Marie. As for the child, I’m sure your parents will have something to say about that. Wear the pink, it brings out the color in your cheeks.”

  Flora glanced at the dress in her hand, and while the pink did, in fact, show off her color quite nicely, the lace along the edges was white and would get soiled too easily.

  She turned and looked at Agnes. “I thought only the wealthy were supposed to be snobs. Marie is a very nice young lady, and I’m grateful for her help. My father knows how I feel about Pierre. He will be staying with us. Say nothing further on the subject.”

  With a sigh, Flora turned to the tray. “Things are going to be different around here now, Agnes. I have to think more about what’s best for Pierre. And I have to do more to show my concern for those around me, not in looking down on them in judgment, but in seeing them as my fellow human beings.”

  After pouring herself a cup of tea, Flora sat in one of her chairs. “I shouldn’t have called you a snob. I’m sorry.”

  She watched as the older lady looked through Flora’s wardrobe.

  Agnes turned, holding up a green dress. “I suppose I am a snob, miss. I’m a firm believer that everybody has their place and they should keep to it. I think it’s good that you wish to be kind to this maid. More mistresses should. But that doesn’t mean they’re your equal. Wear this one. Folks have been calling, and you won’t want to be an embarrassment to your family. I’ll get the boy bathed. Your father purchased some clothes for him.”

  Agnes’s gruff tone betrayed her frustration in being thwarted by Flora and her father. It felt good to know that at least Flora’s father was on her side.

  And, as Flora examined the dress, she was pleased to notice that Agnes had chosen something suitable.

  “I’d forgotten about this one. It’s perfect,” Flora said.

  “I saw the way you turned your nose up at the lighter-colored dresses. On account of the child, I imagine. Not that I blame you. Boys are filthy creatures, and I am so grateful that your parents weren’t blessed with one. I know every man wants an heir, but some things are not worth the sacrifice.”

  Agnes kept muttering to herself about what a burden it was to deal with small boys, and Flora had to stifle a laugh. She’d had her own moments of horror caring for Pierre, particularly when he’d found insects and other equally disgusting items to show her. But oddly enough, those moments were part of what made her love the little boy so dearly.

  Once Flora finished dressing, she went down to the parlor, where her mother was sitting with Rose Jones.

  “Rose! I’m so glad you came. It wasn’t the same at the camp without you.”

  With a pang, Flora remembered the one other friend she’d made up there. “Is there any word of Ellen? She and I became friends after you left, and I’ve been worried about her.”

  “No change,” Rose said as she gestured to the chair beside her. “But the doctors think that she’ll recover.”

  Flora took the seat beside her friend. “I hope so. I feel terrible about what happened to Ellen, and I wish I could do something.”

  “That’s why I’m here.” Rose gave her a gentle smile. “I know you blame yourself for what happened, but you need to remember that you didn’t cause Ellen’s accident. You have to let this go.”

  “All right.” It wasn’t an agreement Flora wanted to make, but from the expression on Rose’s face, she wasn’t going to accept anything else.

  The door opened, and Milly, Rose’s stepdaughter, came running in. “Miss Flora! I bringed you a fwower! Pierre helped me. Not Ma-few. Him’s still too little.”

  Milly ran into her arms and handed her a rose from the garden. Flora sniffed it and smiled.

  “It’s beautiful. You’ve met Pierre?”

  George entered the room, holding Pierre’s hand, followed by Silas, Rose’s husband, holding Rose’s infant son, Matthew.

  “Flora!” Pierre ran to her, telling her about the flower he’d found for her. The boy chattered about meeting Milly, who, despite being just a little girl, was very nice. He also talked about Marie and how welcome she’d made him feel.

  “Now that everyone’s had a chance to say hi, I’ll take the children back outside to play,” Silas said. “I know you all have a lot to discuss.”

  “Thank you,” George told him. “It’s good to see Pierre playing with other children.”

  “I’m happy to do so. Especially since you’re working with Will to bring whoever caused this horrible tragedy to justice. It might have happened at the Pudgy Boy, but those of us at other mines, like the Mary May, we’re nervous. If it can happen there, it can happen anywhere, and we all want to keep our loved ones safe.”

  Silas managed the Mary May mine, owned by Rose’s family, so Flora could understand his concern. Flora gave Milly and Pierre one last hug each, and they followed Silas out while George sat in a nearby chair.

  For the first time since he’d entered the room, Flora looked at George. Though still dressed like a worker, in clean clothes, with his hair washed and slicked back, he was quite handsome, indeed. Not that Flora cared about such things. George could be the handsomest man in the world, and she wouldn’t care. Not even when his eyes looked at her with such...

  She turned her head away, focusing her gaze back on Rose. It didn’t matter what George was thinking, or how he looked at her. The pain of his lie ate at the pit of her stomach. Of all the terrible things Flora had said or done, she’d never befriended someone, toyed with their feelings and completely lied about who she was.

  Why couldn’t he have believed in her enough to trust her with his secret?

  * * *

  George hated the way Flora looked at him—so much disdain and disgust. What had changed between them since coming down the mountain? It was like Flora had turned into a completely different person.

  No, that wasn’t true. She was still loving and kind to Pierre, and even Milly. But she acted like George was waste stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

  Then again, they were back in civilization. In Flora’s parlor, where a miner would ne
ver dare set foot. Even the housekeeper had looked down her nose at him, acting as though he didn’t deserve to be in such a fine house as this. He’d have had to have been deaf to not hear her arguing with John about allowing the likes of George to sleep in their guest room. Not wanting to cause trouble in the household, George had chosen to sleep in the barn.

  At least it would continue to help sell the ruse that he was a mere miner, and that George Bellingham would be on his way soon. After all, most good families wouldn’t allow someone of such low status to grace their halls. George just wished it hadn’t meant being right about Flora. There was no way she’d be able to accept the kind of life he had to offer.

  The sheriff had closed the Pudgy Boy Mine, pending an investigation. John was at the sheriff’s office with the sheriff, Will and Dougherty, discussing how the investigation should proceed. Dougherty was refusing to allow John access to any of the records, even though they had approval from George Bellingham.

  George sighed and focused his attention on the ladies. He’d have preferred to be in with the men, but Dougherty said George had no business in there.

  “George, what do you intend to do for work, now that the mine is closed?” Rose asked, smiling at him.

  “For now, Mr. Montgomery has asked me to work with him, sorting out the status of the mine.” Then he looked at Flora and smiled. “Plus, I promised a little boy I’d help find his father. Now that the law is involved with the mine, Will has said that they’ll also look into Pierre’s father’s disappearance.”

  Flora gave him a frosty look and turned her head away, then focused her gaze on her cup of tea.

  “I don’t understand why the law hasn’t been involved before now,” Flora’s mother said. “It’s disgraceful that a child would be left on his own like that.”