Sew in Love

by Debby Lee

  “I thought you went and missed all the excitement today down at the river, but I guess you found some excitement of your own, eh?” Samuel joked.

  Ben glanced past him toward the women, and his gaze lingered on Maggie, who had her back to him. “If you call having to fend off every besotted male within fifty feet of Maggie McDermott exciting, then yeah, I guess it’s been an exciting day.”

  Samuel grinned. “How did they end up with you?”

  “Parnell sent for them months ago,” Ben told him. “They arrived on the same ship as my nephew. Of course with the mail service as slow as it is, they were unaware that Parnell had passed on. I told them I could bring them to Gold Bar to collect his things, but I’m not sure what they’re going to do after that.”

  Samuel poked him in the ribs. “You should marry her quick before she leaves. Who knows when another available woman will pass this way?”

  Ben took another glance at Maggie and his pulse quickened. “You know I can’t afford to support a wife. I live in a tent. And it will be hard enough to support my nephew if I don’t find more larger nuggets of gold soon.”

  “Did you see the chunk of gold Kendrick had in his hand?”

  Ben nodded, his stomach tight. If he hadn’t had to go to Sacramento to pick up his nephew today, it might have been he who discovered the gold. Of course, if he’d stayed in Gold Bar, he never would have met Maggie.

  Ben scoffed, irritated at Kendrick’s haughty higher-than-thou attitude as well as his own lack of financial resources. “Most likely it was one of Kendrick’s men who found the gold. Kendrick rarely does any panning himself anymore.”

  Samuel ran his hand over his dark beard and confided, “He said he found it in one of them river caves. Has me thinking maybe we should try panning in some of them caves too.”

  Ben shook his head. “No. It’s too dangerous. The caves can collapse. Remember what happened to Nash? Now he’s crippled and has to earn his living as a tailor.”

  “Kendrick isn’t crippled,” Samuel reminded him. “And with each new nugget he finds, he’s even richer than before. He thinks he can buy anything he wants—including your new lady friend. You might have to fight him for her.”

  “I’d fight for her dignity, but I can’t propose to Miss McDermott or any other woman until I can afford to provide for her like a decent husband should.”

  Samuel wiggled his brows. “Rumor has it there’s quite a bit of gold to be found in them river caves.”

  Ben frowned. “Sam.”

  Samuel shrugged, breaking into a broad grin. “Just telling you what I heard.”

  Maggie left her mother and Phillip at the bakery where Esther Watkins had set out a plate of sweet rolls, and followed Ben to the tiny wooden building next door to visit the postmaster. Ben had said she could wait until morning to inquire after her cousin’s belongings, but Maggie knew she wouldn’t sleep a wink until she found out if Cousin Lewis had left them any money, so they might pay for their lodging.

  The post office wasn’t so much a building that one might enter, but rather resembled a vendor stand with two large double wooden shutters that opened like the upper portion of a barn door when Ben knocked.

  A man with thin, wiry brown hair poked his head through the opening.

  “Tom Green, this is Miss McDermott, cousin of Lewis Parnell,” Ben introduced. “And she’d very much like to collect what’s his.”

  Mr. Green adjusted his round, black-rimmed spectacles and appeared to give her a closer look. “You got any proof?”

  Maggie frowned. “Proof of what?”

  “Proof that you’re his cousin,” Mr. Green said, quirking his brow. “I can’t be giving his things to just anyone.”

  “I—I don’t believe I have anything that shows we’re related,” Maggie said hesitantly. “I didn’t expect that he wouldn’t be here.”

  “C’mon, Tom,” Ben said, giving the man a hard look. “She’s had a rough enough time as it is.”

  Mr. Green rubbed his chin. “Well then, can you describe what Lewis Parnell looked like?”

  Maggie hesitated. “He had brown hair, like yours. Medium build. Medium height?”

  “Why, you just described half the men here, miss.” The postmaster pressed his lips together, as if considering what to do, then asked, “Can you describe his laugh?”

  She took a moment to think about the request. “It’s been several years, but as I recall, he had a deep, big-bellied laugh.”

  The postmaster nodded. “My, but he had a laugh that could echo off the walls of the canyon. Didn’t he, Ben?”

  Ben chuckled. “Indeed he did.”

  Maggie hurried to explain. “He was my father’s second cousin, earning wages as a crew member on the cargo ships out of Boston until he came here, heard there was gold, and decided to stay.” She dug through the contents of her large carpetbag. “After my father died, Lewis corresponded with my mother and me and—”

  “You have letters?” Mr. Green asked.

  She pulled out the last letter Cousin Lewis wrote to her, the one he’d sent along with the money to pay for their passage aboard the Cordova. When she handed it to the postmaster, he took another letter from the shelf behind him and compared the two side by side.

  “Parnell left you a letter,” Mr. Green said. “He passed away from pneumonia, you know, after he helped rescue those people in Sacramento last winter trapped by the flood. Now, if it’s the same handwriting … yep, sure is.”

  He handed the letters over to her, and Maggie put them in her carpetbag to read over later in private. Hoping there was more, she asked, “Did he leave me anything else?”

  Mr. Green nodded. “Ah, yes. Well, there is his house, if you want it. He gave specific instructions it was part of your inheritance.”

  Maggie glanced apprehensively at Ben. “The shack we passed on the way in? The one with half the roof torn off and the—”

  She couldn’t bring herself to say rats but was certain Ben knew what she meant, for he grimaced as he gave her a sympathetic look.

  Maggie drew in a deep shuddering breath, wishing she could loosen the confining stays of her corset, and turned her attention back to the postmaster. “Did my cousin leave … money?”

  Mr. Green reached back for another item on a shelf and handed over a small brown leather pouch.

  Maggie opened it and was dismayed to find only three silver coins, two from a US mint and one that was Mexican. “You must be mistaken, sir. This can’t be everything. What—what happened to all his gold?”

  The postmaster exchanged a solemn look with Ben then said, “Lately, there hasn’t been much gold to be found, only gold dust with a larger nugget here and there. Thousands of men have come in from all parts of the world to scour the rivers and stake their claims.”

  “My cousin said he had found a lot of gold,” Maggie insisted. “I doubt he would lie.”

  “No, he didn’t lie,” the postmaster assured her.

  When Mr. Green didn’t elaborate, Ben explained, “Your cousin also had a gambling problem.”

  Cousin Lewis had gambled away his fortune? Maggie clenched her teeth then met Ben’s gaze. “I see.”

  She saw clearly all right. She saw that after enticing her and her mother to travel halfway around the world, Cousin Lewis had left them with nothing but an apologetic letter, a few silver coins, and a run-down, rat-infested shack.

  “So that’s it, then,” she said, tears stinging her eyes. “I have nothing.”

  Mr. Green smiled down at her. “Not if you marry me.”

  Chapter 3

  Maggie returned to the bakery with Ben, her temper nearly getting the better of her. How dare the postmaster propose to her at a time like this! She didn’t even know him. Then again, she hadn’t really known her cousin Lewis either, had she? Perhaps that was what made Mr. Green believe she might say yes. The man had been quite disappointed when she turned him down.

  Ben, however, had smiled. Which tempted her to think maybe he w
as glad she’d refused the postmaster. Or perhaps he just thought the whole exchange funny.

  She did not think anything about her situation was funny at all. The back of her throat ached, and her eyes stung, but she wouldn’t cry. She didn’t have time to cry. What she needed was a plan, a way to support herself and her mother, and for that she’d need to remain strong. Besides, she knew her mother would cry enough for them both.

  But why would God bring her and her mother out here? For what purpose? She’d been so certain it was His will that she come to California to marry Cousin Lewis. Now what would they do? How would they survive? Didn’t God promise to care for those who trusted in Him? That all things would work together for their good? Any good to come from this seemed as far away as Cousin Lewis’s promise that they’d be living in a grand house on fields of green with more gold than a leprechaun. How silly she’d been to have believed such a thing!

  Oh dear. She had broken her own rule. One that had always helped her to keep going when everything looked bleak. Always look for the positive in every situation, and thank the good Lord that things are not worse.

  Well, she and her mother were alive, weren’t they? Which meant they were much better off than Cousin Lewis. She could thank God for that, couldn’t she?

  And they had met two other women in this place who seemed to genuinely care for their well-being. Oh, and how could she forget Ben and his nephew, Phillip? Her spirits rose as she thought of their smiling faces. Yes, new friends could be counted a blessing.

  She also had her strength, no doubt something else she should be grateful for. At twenty-one years of age, she’d already worked as a seamstress, a maid, and a cook to put food in their bellies and a pillow beneath their heads at night. There had to be someone, somewhere, who would hire her.

  She thanked Ben once again for his kindness as he delivered both her and her mother’s trunks to one of the hotel rooms in the back portion of the bakery, which—thank the Lord again—had indeed been available. Then after Ben and Phillip left, she joined her mother, Esther, and Agnes at a small table beside the bakery counter for a plate of hot, buttery biscuits and a cup of tea.

  Maggie told them what she’d learned from the postmaster and handed the two silver fifty-cent coins from Cousin Lewis’s leather pouch to Esther Watkins, who ran the bakery and hotel with her husband, Samuel.

  “Will this be enough to cover our lodging for one night?” Maggie asked, even though she suspected it wasn’t.

  Esther took the coins, gave her a warm, welcoming smile, and said, “Of course it’s enough.”

  “I’ll find a way to make more money,” Maggie vowed.

  “You always do,” her mother said, wiping a tear. “But it wasn’t supposed to be this way. You were supposed to marry Cousin Lewis and live a life of ease.”

  Esther set down her teacup, leaned forward, and looked at Maggie. “You were engaged to Lewis Parnell?”

  She shook her head. “Not officially.”

  “But it was presumed he’d propose the moment we arrived,” her mother added. “I’ve just come out of mourning for my dear husband, and now I suppose I’ll have to dye my gown black again. Maggie too.”

  “Oh no! You can’t do that!” Esther exclaimed, her face full of alarm.

  Maggie’s mother frowned. “You do not think we should mourn the ones we’ve lost?”

  “If you wear black, you can’t get married,” Agnes declared, matter-of-factly.

  “That’s right,” Esther said, and gave Maggie a wink. “A young girl as pretty as you will have no trouble finding a husband at all, and in view of your dire financial situation, the sooner the better, don’t you think?”

  Maggie’s mother gasped. “Doesn’t proper etiquette require a woman to wear black for a period of one year after the death of a fiancé?”

  “Not if she wasn’t officially engaged,” Agnes drawled, tossing her napkin aside. “And no one has to know about what didn’t happen.”

  Maggie’s mother took a sip of tea then shook her head. “He was a cousin, and there is still a three-month waiting period for cousins.”

  Esther looked at Maggie expectantly, as if measuring her up. “Was he a first cousin?”

  Maggie looked around at each of their faces, not sure what to think. Marriage? Was that her only option? Perhaps she should have taken the postmaster’s proposal more seriously.

  “Cousin Lewis was my father’s second cousin, which would make him my third cousin,” she said, hesitantly. “Would that make a difference?”

  “Well, let’s see,” Esther said, bustling to the back of the bakery counter where she retrieved a thick book and flipped open the worn, yellowed pages. “In Godey’s Lady’s Book, it says a woman must wear solid black for one year for a husband, then another six months of black with some color, and finally lighten her gowns to gray for the last six months of half mourning. For a brother or sister, the proper attire is black for six months, and for an aunt, uncle, or cousin three months, but for a friend or second cousin it is only a matter of weeks.”

  “Out here rules are different,” Agnes said in a gravelly voice. “We live off the land and don’t have the money for fancy dye or changes in wardrobe. I should think for a third cousin, Maggie and her mother could pay their respects and not have to change their gowns at all.”

  Esther nodded. “As the only women in Gold Bar, the only ones who would even notice you aren’t following the dictated social norms are sitting at this table. Men don’t care much for following the rules of proper society.”

  Agnes chuckled. “Men don’t care for following rules, period. I’m sure they’d be as pleased as a fruit fly on a plum tree if you decided to forgo the formalities.”

  “I don’t know,” Maggie’s mother fretted.

  Maggie considered a moment, then made up her mind. “Esther and Agnes are right. The sooner I find a husband, the sooner we’ll have financial support. Seems to me, there’s no time to waste.”

  “You could have a husband tomorrow if you desired,” Esther gushed. “Pretty young women in these parts are rare, and the men are lonely, which will have them all vying for your attention.”

  “The problem won’t be finding a husband,” Agnes agreed. “It will be trying to decide which man would be best.”

  Maggie’s heart raced. “You think I’ll be able to choose my own husband? But how will I make money until I decide upon one? My mother and I still need to eat.”

  “Can you sew?” Agnes asked.

  Maggie nodded. “My mother and I are both quite good with a needle.”

  “Perfect!” Agnes exclaimed, with a clap of her hands. “You can both help me wash and mend the men’s clothes. Charge them whatever you want and keep your own earnings. Eben Nash, who thinks he’s the camp’s only tailor, won’t like it, but Lord knows, there’s more than enough work for all of us.”

  Overcome by an unexpected flood of relief, Maggie smiled. Perhaps God was watching over them after all.

  Ben tried his best to talk with his young nephew, but soon after they’d left the women at the bakery, Phillip became quiet and withdrawn, barely looking at him. Two years had passed since they’d last seen each other. While Lucinda’s family stayed in Boston, Ben traveled west where land was less expensive, hoping to build a horse ranch. A dream he still hoped to achieve, once he found enough gold to purchase the right property and needed supplies.

  He glanced over at Phillip’s untouched bowl of chicken stew they’d fetched from the camp cook, and asked, “Aren’t you hungry?”

  Phillip didn’t answer but shrugged, his face pale and looking forlorn.

  Ben wasn’t sure what to say. He wondered if Phillip missed his parents or if he was simply weary from his long journey. Whichever case, a good night’s sleep would do them both good.

  However, the next morning when Ben asked Phillip if he’d slept well, the scowl upon his nephew’s face became more pronounced. “There were no rats. However, I did not think we would be living in a te
nt.”

  Ben thought the boy’s stiff proper speech out of place here in the wild, where most of the men used a variety of slang, but no doubt the ladies would find it refreshing.

  “The tent is temporary,” Ben promised. “I’ve got some money stashed away, and as soon as I find a little more gold, I’ll build us our own house.”

  “There is no school here.”

  Ben lifted a brow. “You told Maggie you didn’t need to go to school.”

  Phillip shrugged. “There is no one else my age.”

  “One of the miners has a seven-year-old girl.”

  “I am nine and a half,” Phillip reminded him. “And I do not talk to girls.”

  Ben grinned. “One day you will.”

  “Can we go see Maggie?” Phillip asked, a flicker of hope lighting his young face.

  For a moment, the thought of seeing her sparkling blue eyes and fiery red-gold curls escaping her frivolously feminine pink-ribbon bonnet didn’t seem like a bad idea. Then he remembered he had work to do.

  “I think we might let her settle into camp first,” Ben replied. When Phillip’s face fell back into a scowl, he added, “How would you like to go down to the river and learn to pan for gold?”

  His nephew startled him by giving him a direct look. “Can I keep any gold I find?”

  Ben assured him he could, and for a while, as they sifted through the stones from the riverbed, all seemed fine. Until the boy tired.

  “I wish I’d never come here!” he shouted, wiping tears from his eyes with his fist. “I should’ve run away from Miss Lang and found my own place to live. At least then I’d still be in Boston, where I belong.”

  Ben’s stomach clenched and the back of his throat grew tight as his nephew sat down on a large rock a few yards away and tossed stones aimlessly into the water. He couldn’t help but wonder—Had he been wrong in sending for the child? If he’d had the money, he could have paid for Phillip to attend private school in Boston. But the nine-and-a-half-year-old was all the family he had left. They needed to stick together. Certainly, that is what his sister, Lucinda, would have wanted.