An Unlikely Mother

by Danica Favorite

  “That’s very kind,” Mrs. Fitzgerald said. “Thank you.”

  Pierre tugged at Flora’s hand. “I suppose I’d best let this little one go outside and run around. But I will be back. I’m truly grateful for your recovery.”

  As Flora left, she couldn’t help but feel a definite lightness in her spirit as she realized that the people she’d encountered today had commented on her kindness. Not her beauty or her fashions, but on the thing she’d most wanted people to notice. Her heart.

  Which, as she thought about Ellen’s words about George, still needed a great deal of sorting out. What was the truth about her feelings for him? Was it love? Or was it some misguided emotion she hadn’t been able to place?

  And if it was love, was it strong enough to bear the hardship ahead?

  * * *

  Thanks to Crazy Eddie’s help, they reached the place Herman had marked on the map easily. Even to George’s untrained eye, the scattered rocks and boulders indicated a great deal of blasting had occurred in the area.

  “There’s the shaft,” Will said, pointing to a narrow fissure in the ground.

  “No wonder Herman nearly died,” Crazy Eddie said. “Only a fool would try blasting here.”

  They lowered a lantern into the dark space, quickly illuminating their worst fear: a man’s body.

  George closed his eyes and said a quick prayer. Though he didn’t want another death on his hands, he also couldn’t bear to tell Pierre that his father was truly gone.

  Crazy Eddie put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  They worked together to rig up some ropes to lower Owen into the hole. George had thought they’d argue with him about retrieving the body, but the others seemed to be thinking the same thing—Pierre’s father deserved a decent burial.

  When Owen reached the bottom, he called up to the others. “You aren’t going to believe this.”

  George looked down at him. “What?”

  “They found silver. Only it’s not in the direction Herman thought. You’d need a surveyor to be certain, but this just might be part of your mine, George.”

  Owen shone the light around some more, then let it settle on the body. “Can anyone read French?”

  “Just Flora,” George said.

  “Good. This man didn’t die right away, and there’s a knapsack and a journal lying next to him. I don’t know any French, but I can clearly read the name Dougherty in these pages. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this man knew he was going to die and wanted to be sure his killer was brought to justice.”

  God hadn’t answered George’s prayers for Pierre’s father to be found safe. But if there was a second thing George could have wished for on Pierre’s behalf, it would have been justice for Henri.

  The men quickly worked to pull the body up, then Owen followed with Henri’s belongings. Owen and Will looked through the knapsack, speaking quietly between themselves, then turned to George.

  “I don’t think any of this will be needed as evidence,” Will said. “It’s good that the child will have a few things that were his father’s.”

  Owen held up the journal. “But we will need to have Flora translate to confirm what we suspect this contains. If it does, we’ll need to keep this until Dougherty and the other perpetrators can be brought to justice.”

  “Of course,” George said, nodding. He took the knapsack Will handed him, holding it close. At least he had something to give Pierre.

  As they returned to town, the deputies talked about the case and how they were going to proceed. George tried paying attention, but mostly he felt sick. How could anyone in his family have thought money so important that they’d destroy so many lives over it? Did they know the extent Dougherty had gone to so they could get rich?

  George didn’t know. But he had to trust that, somehow, they could bring justice to those who had been wronged. At this point, the weight of the reparations George would have to make felt so heavy, it was almost a relief to know that Flora hadn’t declared herself to him. Though having her arms around him would lighten his burden, he couldn’t imagine her having to bear it with him.

  As it was, she would have the difficult task of breaking the news to Pierre about his father. She’d been upset at the hypothetical prospect, but now knowing it to be true, George wished he didn’t have to add so much pain to their lives.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Flora didn’t have to be told the results of their expedition when they returned. She knew as soon as she spotted them coming down the street.

  The little boy had broken down in tears when they told him, and Flora had held him until he fell asleep, sobbing in her arms.

  And now, as she sat in the parlor, struggling to focus on her embroidery, Flora was at a loss. The men were locked in her father’s study, planning their next move.

  George entered the room, holding a book. “We meant to ask you to do this earlier, but it didn’t seem right with Pierre...” He let out a long sigh. “I still don’t feel right about putting you through this pain. But I thought I should at least ask you.”

  “Ask me what?” Flora set down the sampler. All of the stitches would have to be torn out anyway because she’d made such a mess of things.

  “Pierre’s father left a journal. None of us can read it, because it’s in French. We’re fairly certain he writes about his dying moments, because he mentions the mine manager’s name.”

  Flora stared at the book in George’s hands.

  “It’s painful, I know, and if you’d rather, I’ll ask Marie’s father. He can do it, but I’m trying to let you choose for yourself.”

  “I’ll do it.” The lump in Flora’s throat made it almost too painful to speak. George was right. Reading Henri’s words would be difficult. But she needed to do this for his son.

  George handed her the journal, then stood above her. “Should I?”

  George gestured at a nearby chair. Flora nodded, then opened the journal.

  At first, the pages contained only personal information, the man’s descriptions of coming to America after the death of his wife and baby, hoping to make a better life for their son. Henri wrote of hardships, but with each one, he expressed an unwavering hope that things would be better. It felt like an intrusion, reading such things. But someday, Pierre would be glad to know about his father. Clearly, Henri Martin loved his son, and would do anything for the little boy.

  Tears filled Flora’s eyes. It seemed such a waste that a man who’d done so much could lose his life like this.

  “Is everything all right?” George leaned forward.

  Flora brushed away the tears. “Yes. I wish you could understand these words. Henri loved Pierre with all his heart. Everything he did was to give his son a better life.”

  “That matches everything we’ve heard about him.”

  She nodded, then turned her attention back to the journal, coming to the point where Henri wrote about Herman’s accident. According to Henri, he’d gone to see Dougherty to demand that he pay for Herman to see a doctor. He’d left Pierre by a spot where they’d camped, thinking he’d be back in a few hours. He hadn’t wanted to bring Pierre, because he’d seen small boys working the mine, and he wanted to shield his child from the sight. He never wanted Pierre to think he had to work to provide for them.

  Dougherty had argued with Henri, saying the accident had not happened the way Herman said. He’d offered to take Henri to the place where it happened to show him. Herman had been drunk and made a mistake. That’s why Dougherty wasn’t paying for it. Henri hadn’t believed Dougherty, but thought that he should play along. When they got to the spot, Dougherty had pushed him into the shaft, then set another charge to cover it up.

  Henri played dead until Dougherty left, then vainly tried to make his way out. But the shaft was too deep, a
nd Henri didn’t have the right equipment to escape. So he spent his time writing about what had happened in hopes that someone would find his body and the truth would come out.

  As Flora read the words to George, her father and the deputies entered the room. When she finished reading about Dougherty’s deeds, she looked up at them.

  “Is this enough to put the man in jail?”

  Will nodded and took the book from her. “It’s enough to arrest him.”

  “Could we have the parts about Pierre? He needs to know his father’s love for him.”

  “I’ll see what we can do,” Will said.

  Then Flora turned to her father. “Henri only wanted a good life for his son. There is no one else to care for him. Can you find out what I need to do to adopt him?”

  For a moment, her father looked like he wanted to argue, but then he nodded.

  Part of her felt completely numb. But she had to keep going for Pierre.

  She turned to George. “I promised you would always be a part of Pierre’s life. And I intend to keep that promise.”

  “Thank you.” He leaned into her. “About—”

  “Please don’t ask. I have greater concerns than my own heart right now. There’s a little boy upstairs who needs my full attention. I’m sure you can understand the need for space. You should be focused on doing what’s right by your family.”

  George nodded slowly. “You’re right.”

  Flora’s mother entered the room and a greater heaviness descended upon her heart. She knew her mother had her own pain to deal with, but Flora wasn’t sure she was ready to discuss anything with her.

  “I understand the boy’s father is dead,” her mother said.

  Flora nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She couldn’t get into an argument with her mother, not now.

  Her mother turned to George. “Will you be marrying my daughter?”

  The tightness in Flora’s chest threatened to choke her. Not the response she’d expected to hear, but at least it wasn’t a demand to send the child to an orphanage.

  “It’s complicated,” George said slowly.

  “No, it’s not.” She looked from George to Flora. “I assume you intend to give the child a home. Will you not give him a father?”

  Flora closed her eyes. Her mother was clearly still fixated on their reputation. And Flora could no longer live that way.

  “What of love?” Flora asked, finally looking her mother in the eye.

  “If you need to ask that question, then I pity you,” her mother said, shaking her head. Then she looked down at Flora. “Pierre is crying. You should go to him.”

  Flora rose, feeling everyone’s eyes upon her. Well, she’d have to get used to it. In the past, she’d craved the attention, but only in a positive way. Then she’d come to dread it, hating the way everyone judged her. And now, as she went up to comfort the child who’d just found out his father was gone forever, she found she didn’t care.

  * * *

  George watched Flora leave, wishing he could hold her or offer her some comfort. But with the way her mother glared at him, such a gesture was liable to find him at the business end of a shotgun.

  “Mrs. Montgomery,” he said slowly, trying to sound as gentle as possible, “I have nothing but the utmost amount of respect for your daughter.”

  She stared at him like he’d told her he wanted to hurt Flora in some horrible way.

  “We have spoken at length about our circumstances,” he continued, sending a pleading glance at John. “But Flora has made it clear that she needs time to search her heart to be certain of her feelings. I care too much for her to pressure her into something that will make her unhappy. Given the circumstances, I think it’s only fair to give her the space she’s asked for.”

  John stepped forward. “I appreciate you giving consideration to my daughter’s feelings. But I hope you can understand the need for distance if you have not come to an agreement.”

  “I do. And I’m doing my best,” George said. “Which is why I think we should talk about other things, such as how we’re going to find out who Dougherty is working with.”

  “I agree.” John turned to the other men. “I assume we can trust your discretion in the matter of my daughter.”

  “Absolutely,” Will said. “I’ve seen nothing untoward between her and George, and I believe she handles herself admirably. I’ve never had cause to think George was acting inappropriately toward her. I hope my daughter grows up to meet a man who will treat her with the same respect.”

  The other man gave him a sympathetic look, as though he understood what it meant to be doing your very best to be honorable in a difficult situation.

  A knock sounded at the door, and Flora’s mother went over to open it. At the sound of the man’s voice, George looked at John. “That’s Robert Cooper. He’ll recognize me.”

  John joined his wife at the door, while Will helped George get to the kitchen, where he would be shielded from view yet still able to hear the conversation.

  “I’m here to talk to you about purchasing the mine,” Cooper said, as John ushered him into his study.

  George noticed that John left the door open a crack, giving him the ability to listen in on the conversation.

  “I’m glad,” John said. “My attempts at contacting your office have been unsuccessful.”

  Cooper made a sympathetic noise. “Yes. My apologies. We’ve been busy dealing with the other family holdings.”

  “We?” John asked.

  “Arthur Eldridge and myself. We’ve been running the Bellingham family business since poor Elias’s passing.”

  “Yes,” John said. “My condolences. I’ve always regretted my rift with Elias.”

  “Thank you. The death of a friend, especially a former friend, always puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?”

  “Indeed it does. Which is why I feel the need to purchase the Pudgy Boy Mine. It seems only right to help the family out of a bind.”

  The two men sounded so cordial, it seemed almost impossible to believe that they suspected Cooper of mismanaging the funds.

  “I can understand your desire. However, it is with great regret that I tell you the mine is no longer for sale. The family circumstances were much exaggerated, and we feel it’s not prudent to dispose of such a valuable asset at this time. I’m sure you understand.”

  It seemed odd that Cooper would come all this way to tell John that the mine wasn’t for sale. Especially since the man had been avoiding all contact with John up until now.

  “Odd,” John said smoothly. “That wasn’t the impression George Bellingham gave me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  George smiled at the panic in Cooper’s voice.

  “He’s quite concerned about the family’s circumstances, especially with the discrepancies I found in the mine records. He’s coming to stay with me to get to the bottom of the situation.”

  “He is?”

  It took considerable self-control not to laugh at the way Cooper’s voice wavered.

  “Indeed. Would you like to see our correspondence?”

  George could hear rustling in the room, presumably to get the papers George had written and signed to make people like Cooper believe he’d been talking to John all along.

  “I see,” Cooper said. “But...”

  “It’s my understanding that only George can authorize the sale of the mine, is that not right?”

  “Well, yes...”

  “So, then, I don’t believe we have anything else to discuss, do we, Mr. Cooper?” John’s tone was incredibly patronizing, but if anything would set Cooper off, it was being talked down to like that.

  “I...”

  “Let me walk you out,” John said.

  He walked
a rather bewildered-looking Robert Cooper to the door, and as soon as he left, John called in to the kitchen.

  “What do you think?”

  “Something’s up,” George said. “He was very nervous at the idea of George Bellingham having information about the mine.”

  “I think it’s time for George Bellingham to finally make his appearance,” John agreed.

  “Definitely,” Will said. “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I’m going to make some arrangements.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  George hated the feeling of being confined to the stuffy closet in the Montgomerys’ guest room. After Dougherty’s arrest several days ago, word had spread about the mismanagement at the mine, and John had been very careful to let people know that he expected George to arrive today.

  John had spared no expense in setting up this ruse. He’d used his connections to get a private car in Denver for the train to Leadville, carefully making sure no one could see inside. Owen had donned fine clothing, covering up with a large overcoat, scarf and hat so no one could discern his features. Though it was too warm for such clothing, it had given him the air of being a wealthy man attempting to travel incognito. When John’s carriage arrived at the station to pick up George Bellingham, the windows were carefully covered to protect Bellingham’s identity.

  The whole scene had created quite a stir in town, and from what George had gathered, everyone knew George Bellingham had arrived to sell his mine to John Montgomery and finally be rid of the stain of what was becoming a rather large embarrassment in the form of the Pudgy Boy Mine.

  Which left them to wait. The Montgomery family had gone to the Tabor Opera House for an evening of entertainment, where they would regretfully inform their friends that Mr. Bellingham was too exhausted from travel to attend.

  After the stagecoach robbery that seemed to be about harming George, Will and Owen were certain that whoever was behind the mine troubles would try again if they knew George Bellingham was home alone at the Montgomery house. Which left Owen in the guest bed, pretending to be George, and George hiding in the closet to identify the perpetrator.