The month of May had passed into a lovely June. The flowers and trees burst colorful beauty all over the carefully planned grounds. Bettina volunteered two to three days a week, though she remained cautious around Luke Edwards. Getting involved with someone so far from her ideology would be a disaster. Her personal feelings about mining notwithstanding, how could she compromise? After all, his goals cost lives while hers saved them. But, oh my. My, my, my how she liked his magnanimous personality. His low laugh that sent ripples through her belly. Liked the confidence in his walk and the breadth of his shoulders.
With the Mining and Mineral building at a distance, it hadn’t been too hard to keep space between her and Luke as well. But she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him when he arrived with supplies or to assist one of the other ladies. Unfortunately, Lydia or Jennie managed to notice, or were they intentionally watching her reactions?
Scholars and the audience could readily rip apart her farming theory during her slot at the scientific congress tomorrow if she didn’t have the new research incorporated. Research that hadn’t been released during her last year at college. Afterward, Clara McAdow promised the introduction to Reverend Doctor Kelsey. Would he feel she’d earn her place at Oberlin? Without the repeated practices her friends encouraged, it wouldn’t be possible at all.
“But can you imagine what this new knowledge means, Lydia?” Bettina leaned across the table in the center salon of the Montana pavilion, grateful for this opportunity. What a blessing to rehearse and debate the ideas in her demonstration with Lydia and Jennie acting as devil’s advocates. “Since the agriculturists here in Illinois discovered crop maturity advances from south to north as much as twelve miles per day, farming strategy could revolutionize how we produce food on a grander scale. Look at the hundreds of miles from south to north in Montana alone.”
Nodding, Jennie measured the distances. “What you’re saying is we could gain approximately twenty-six more growing days across the country with this strategic crop planning and at least add a good portion of those growing days in Montana.”
“Yes!” Bettina clapped.
Lydia waved a hand in the air. “Bettina, we have to take climate into account. Much of that south to north line is along mountainous terrain. If the chemistry isn’t right …” She let the comment hang in the air like a hawk on a current. Sooner or later that hawk would dive for a mouse.
Bettina gave her a curious look. “The chemistry?”
Jennie and Lydia exchanged glances.
“It’s like good relationships. If you sow on fertile ground and pull the weeds of misunderstanding regularly, then your tender crop has a chance,” Jennie said.
Bettina’s brow crinkled. Were they talking about farming and harvests? “I’m sure you’re right.” She swept a hand from bottom to top over the map in the almanac. “By teaching farmers to plant crops with longer growth cycles farther south and plants with shorter growth cycles to the north …”
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Lydia and Jennie were sending silent hand signals. But as soon as she looked up, the ladies suddenly seemed to be smoothing a hairdo or skirt.
“Hmm? What were you saying, dear?” Lydia smiled. “Do go on.”
Bettina finished her tactical theory, though another was forming having nothing to do with wheat or corn or feeding the masses. “… those extra days, amount to be determined by the clime and … chemistry, can mean excess to send to cities, raising farmer income while filling higher populace needs.” She stood up fast as the two ladies snapped their eyes on the map with guilty looks.
“I see. But you realize the last day of frost in Montana is not until quite late in May. Quite different than Illinois.” Lydia pointed at the northern area of the state.
Were they beleaguering the climate point for a reason? Studying their uncharacteristically bland expressions, Bettina was sure the two had a secretive conversation going on they didn’t want her to know about. But about what?
“And this area might be up to a week earlier some years but not others depending on weather cycles. I think you’re better suited to choosing crops for your comparison study by climes. Crops would mature prior to the early known frost we can often experience. The length of growing days can be fickle, as can the heart.”
Lydia nodded. “There’s a natural harmony that has much to do with matching seed to soil type, water, humidity, sun, wind, pollination, and so many other factors. Some of the chemistry you might be able to control. And then there’s the synergy, the spark of creativity you cannot control, like love. That part of life is God’s design.”
“I have the distinct feeling that either you two are wanting this conversation to go in another direction or I’ve gone over the possible objections so many times I’m boring you.”
“I certainly wouldn’t have intruded,” Lydia said with a tongue-in-cheek tone. “Would you, Jennie?”
“No, I’d never.” Jennie’s eyes twinkled.
“But now that you’ve asked.” The older woman’s expression turned motherly, and compassion enveloped her every word.
“Yes, now that you’ve asked.” Jennie nodded to Lydia. “Go ahead, you’re the one he came to for advice.”
“We’re concerned there’s been a misunderstanding.” Lydia watched Bettina closely as she asked, “What is it that keeps you avoiding our dear Luke?”
Mr. Edwards had talked to Lydia? Heat flushed up from Bettina’s high collar.
“Did he insult you?” Lydia locked a hand onto a hip like a mother ready to set straight a son. “If an apology is in order, then, by all means, give him the opportunity. After all, he’s respected for his integrity.”
“It’s not about an apology. He hasn’t done anything untoward.” Bettina leaned against the pavilion pillar, leaving the large book open on the table. The sturdy support at her back helped with the two-against-one situation. “Mr. Edwards is, well, he is …” She wove her fingers together and focused on her palms. “Our beliefs in progress and the future are too different. We’re too different.” She let out her breath slowly at their disbelieving expressions. For ladies who loved to talk, their silence spoke in thunderous volumes. Her mother wouldn’t let her get away with such a vague statement, either. “You both know what I came here for, and it wasn’t to find a man.”
Jennie crossed her arms. “There’s nothing saying you can’t find both.”
“It’s not that he isn’t a very attractive man, Jennie, he is. He’s going to make some woman a very good husband. He’s wildly handsome, confident, caring, kind—”
“Just not for you, even though you find him so appealing?”
Appealing. Apt description. “No, not for me. I don’t want to be sidetracked from the dreams in my heart.” She reached out a hand to her new friend. “You understand, don’t you?” she asked as Jennie clasped both hands over Bettina’s. “A mine owner. No, I can’t fathom the destruction. And how he could send other men into danger.” The comforting grasp encouraged her. “If there isn’t a common goal, then it’s too dangerous to step into the fire.”
“Some pine trees need fire to propagate.” Lydia smiled at Bettina’s consternation. “Oh my dear, when you grow older you begin to realize that each person can have their own goal. You don’t have to chase the same dream to help the other reach theirs. Marriage is about helping your mate, not doing it for them.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Bettina rubbed her teeth across her bottom lip. “But if those goals are complete opposites, aren’t the two destined to clash constantly?”
“You might think a little more on it.” Jennie squeezed Bettina’s hand. “I don’t believe you’ve given him a fair chance. Do you?” She slid an arm around Bettina’s shoulder in a gentle hug. “He’s asked to speak with you, and yet you turn him away. Learning more about what our Mr. Edwards does might help you see him in a different light. A hasty decision is the cause for many a mistake.”
“We do believe you’ve been a tad hasty. But then again, if it’s not possible in your mind, I’m sure my niece wouldn’t mind getting to know our Luke.” Lydia looked at Jennie. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, yes. I’m sure there’s potential with Janey.” Jennie wagged her head as if imparting solemn news. “You mustn’t feel we’re pushing the most eligible bachelor in Helena on you.”
Lydia wobbled her head, too. “No, no, you mustn’t. Although it occurs to me you’ve assumed the outcome without proper research. One must be sure of their facts.”
Even with the older women’s wisdom rolling through her mind, Bettina couldn’t come up with any option that would offer compromise to a man who owned a mine and lived off the sweat and blood of others. But feelings she didn’t expect reared up at the thought of this Janey capturing his attention. Feelings she didn’t like one bit. What did she want with a rich mine owner when her own father died in a coal mine, poor as could be? But was it fair to Luke Edwards, the way she’d locked him out with no explanation? A good scientist at least observes the facts. And a lady offered courtesy to those she disagreed with. But would mending that fence leave her heart open to—
“You sent for me, Mrs. Fitch?” Luke strode to the table, nearly out of breath. “What’s the emergency?” He gave a curt dip of his head to Bettina.
Bettina’s eyes widened as she stepped back. “Emergency?” She looked up into his blue eyes. “Oh, I feel terrible. I’ve been going on and on about the Illinois discovery. Forgive me, Lydia and Jennie. Please take care of whatever it is you must do. I’m happy to watch the display for you.”
Lydia deepened into a pink one shade deeper than the bitterroot’s petals. “Dear boy, there’s no emergency.” She glanced at Bettina. “I simply sent one of the ladies to ask that you stop in when you had a chance.”
“When I—”
Now she understood how he must feel with all his matrimony prospects being managed by such helpful friends. They’d kept her talking long enough for someone to fetch him. Was the mention of Janey’s interest another ruse then, too?
“Would you be a dear and explain to Miss Gilbert here what your plans are for your mines? A little on how you’ve changed practices to protect nature will do. Of course, we all know the strides you’ve made in mining safety protocol.”
Bettina would have turned tail and skedaddled out of there. But Lydia put an arm around her waist and wasn’t letting go.
He looked between the two women. His eyes narrowed. “I think I’m on to you, Mrs. Fitch.”
“Me? I have no idea what you could mean, dear boy.” She feigned an innocent, wide-eyed expression. “Go ahead, I’m sure this is going to fascinate us.”
“If Miss Gilbert is at all interested, she’s welcome to attend one of my talks at the Mines and Mining building. I’ll be sure to go into detail for her.” He gave them all a nod. “Enjoy your afternoon, ladies.”
“Oh, my dear.” Lydia’s face looked worried as she watched him walk out. “You must at least go to one of his talks. It appears that though he may not have offended you, you certainly did offend him. You were on at least a first-name basis the last few weeks.”
Luke had been by the Woman’s building several times in the last few weeks. He’d managed to find reasons to check in with the ladies but only garnered a good snubbing from Bettina Gilbert for his trouble. For a man who ran several mining crews of rough characters, that woman could make his knees quake with a single glance. Something no other had been able to do. The ladies made sure to continue their quest to find his perfect mate while Mrs. Fitch made a few attempts to smooth the way for him with Bettina. But nothing swayed her. He’d met more women in those few weeks and he couldn’t remember half of them. Why couldn’t he forget her?
He knew when he spotted Mrs. Fitch listening politely to his presentation about silver, gold, copper, and other Montana mining successes she had news of some sort—or she’d given up on patching his rift with Bettina. “Though mining can be competitive, the Kimberley Diamond Mining Company has underwritten this entire exhibit with contributions from more than twelve counties sharing over fifty tons of specimens. The gold nuggets you see are dwarfed by the forty-eight-ounce giant here.” He placed a hand on the mother of gold nuggets, enjoying the amazement of his guests. “In addition, please note the sapphires, rubies, and garnets native to our mountainous state.” He moved to steps near the middle of the room. “Now I’d like to share a little about our Lady Justice, who was commissioned by the state fair board. Mining companies across the state worked together to promote the health of the industry in her creation. The solid gold plinth she stands on is on loan from the Spotted Horse Mine of Maiden, Montana, and measures two feet on each side. The lady herself is solid silver belonging to two men loaning equal measures for the mold pouring. She holds a level balance of silver and gold, and her sword denotes the battle of justice for all.”
The mingling nations were often represented in the fairgoers through exotic dress, language, and customs. He knew some followed his gestures but couldn’t follow all of his words. “You’ll note our twelve-foot-tall Lady Justice has her eyes uncovered.” He pointed up. Then for the sake of the foreign children, Luke bent his knees and flashed his fingers open in front of his eyes, garnering a round of giggles. “In researching the concept of justice portrayed this way through the centuries, we discovered she’s only been blindfolded the last two hundred years. In Montana, we don’t want Lady Justice to turn a blind eye. Contrary to the idea that she be blind to individuals, we believe in individual freedom in Montana. Though often portrayed in marble and stone, this is the first time she’s been immortalized in a precious material like silver. Are there any questions?”
Mrs. Fitch raised her hand.
He took a breath, drawing deep. “Yes, ma’am.”
“My niece would like to know, who modeled for the lovely statue?”
She wouldn’t have asked that particular question normally. He knew exactly how she felt about the choice of model. Now he knew Mrs. Fitch’s purpose in attending another one of his talks—she’d resumed her matchmaking. So even she’d made no progress with Bettina, whose avoidance communicated volumes. She wasn’t interested. His heart squeezed. It was hopeless. Was it time to give up and turn himself over to the three women who had his well-being at heart? If he wanted a wife, he had to get that pretty botanist out of his head.
Her niece stepped into view. Jeanne. No. Joanne. No. J, it starts with a J. With any luck one of the ladies would drop the lovely girl’s name before he had to admit not remembering it. He smiled at the young lady and warmed to her returned smile.
“That’s a wonderful question, Mrs. Fitch.” He waggled a finger with a dramatic flair, bringing grins from the little ones dressed in colorful satins. “And a controversial one as well. Montanans had their own idea of a feminine model, chosen from young ladies who lived in our state. But our executive director over the Montana World’s Fair Board, Mr. Bickford, and the artist had other ideas. Ada Rehan, the famous New York actress, stands before you, immortalized in precious metal.”
The crowd oohed at the mention of the well-known actress with a bit of a questionable reputation, and the story-behind-the-scenes that Luke shared.
“Our citizenry didn’t appreciate a nonresident actress chosen over the epitome of Montana womanhood. However, Miss Rehan fit sixty-two of the sixty-eight artistic points of beauty. Who can argue with an artist and win?” He chuckled with the attendees who understood English. “Our newspapers still tried to mount a campaign up to the very last moment. We are a stubborn people.” He lifted his arms then let his hands fall against his legs. Another short burst of appreciation for his light wit rippled around the central space inside the Grecian columns surrounding the booth.
“Miss Rehan posed for the statue mold. Then the mold was poured from Montana silver provided through the First National Bank of Helena due to the work of Mr. Samuel T. Hauser and Mr. William A. Clark of Butte on March 18th.”
Janey—the name suddenly came to him—sidled closer to her aunt and sent him a flirty smile. Perhaps he should open his mind if Mrs. Fitch believed Janey could be a good wife. She was of age and very attractive. Could she relax and converse as they grew to know each other? He could at least try. How could one form an opinion in such a short first visit? Then again, he’d only had an afternoon visit with—
“Mr. Edwards?”
He knew that voice, and his blood raced at the sound of it. “Yes, another question.” He searched the growing crowd for the presence of the woman he’d hoped might give him a chance. People filled in the standing-room-only aisles inside and around the mining exhibit. Touted as a not-to-be-missed feature, the Montana Mining and Minerals hadn’t let up in its popularity in the first month.
“Mr. Edwards, do tell us if you think you might run out of this precious silver any time soon?”
“Excellent question, Miss Gilbert.” Was that it? Had she worried about his livelihood since the silver pricing downturn began? She didn’t seem like the type to be that concerned about security, but what did he know of a woman’s mind? He could quell that concern. “As a matter of fact, no. The silver deposits in Montana are nowhere near running out, regardless of the Silver Act redirecting purchases to the gold standard. Last year alone our state produced enough silver to cast a thousand of these statues, if they’d been needed, and still have plenty left over to mint a thousand silver dollars in addition.”
“You mean that ripping the land apart for financial gain is worth the scars left behind? What about future generations? What about rehabilitating the natural resources? What about the danger to the men?” She had a fierce expression. “What a waste of God’s green earth.” She turned to leave.
“Kindly let me offer a response, Miss Gilbert.”
“I can’t imagine that you’d have one, Mr. Edwards.”
“But I do.” The crowd parted as he stepped down off the dais at Lady Justice’s feet and walked into the great hall beyond the pavilion. Many followed him while others that hadn’t fit inside the booth merely needed to turn a bit. “Tell me about how cities are built without wood or quarries. How should dentists fill cavities without gold? And without coal, how can the iron horse ship food to distant places or bring more coal to warm tenements?”
“I’m sure those things—”
“Are important to civilization?”
“Of course. However, we must act with conservation and safety in mind. When the land is changed and it can’t regenerate, then what direction have we set but one for destruction?”
How could he get across to her the need for mining with her mind set in stone? “And copper? Copper conducts electricity.” There must be copper in his veins, because she’d managed to get his blood surging. “How do you suppose we provide electricity to cities, hospitals, or homes in the future if we have no mining for this resource?”
“Resources that may not be replenished if done irresponsibly.”
“You are assuming all mining is done irresponsibly, Miss Gilbert. Civilization demands support. Through our mining and mineral opportunities we better the lives of everyone on this planet.” Isn’t that what she’d told him she wanted? To uplift the lives of the less fortunate?
“What about the lives of those men in the mines? Tell me your answer to that, Mr. Edwards.” She crossed her arms and tapped a foot.
“I’ll tell you about the jobs responsible mining provides, and then I’ll tell you about all the families those working men feed. Without mining, our entire nation would lose a major industry for our populace. Children would go hungry with fathers out of work. Do you propose we let that happen?”
Mrs. Fitch moved into his line of sight. She gave three small, sharp shakes of her head at him.
If he didn’t end this impromptu debate, there might be no coming back with Bettina Gilbert—and they needed to talk. She had to give him the chance to clear up the misunderstanding that he couldn’t comprehend. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending. Be sure to see my two favorites, the Statue of Liberty made of salt and the Silver Lady next door in the Colorado pavilion, on your tour through the rest of the building. Thank you.”
The crowd applauded. A few voiced their appreciation while a family from somewhere in Asia ducked their heads to him in a small bow as Bettina whirled and stomped away.
Was it mining, safety, or something else that bothered her? Luke glanced around for Mrs. Fitch and Janey.
Mrs. Fitch threaded through a few people. Was she disappointed or delighted Bettina offered less competition to her niece? “Oh, Luke. How could you?”
Disappointed. He turned his palms up and sighed. “What was I supposed to do? She wants to help people but doesn’t understand there’s more to it than feeding them bread.” He pushed his hands into his pockets and stared at his shoes.
“She’s a smart girl. She will understand if you take the time to help her.”
“She doesn’t want to have anything to do with me now.” He looked down the cavernous aisle she’d exited. A city girl who despised his way of life would be the worst choice for a miner’s wife, wouldn’t she? So why couldn’t he get her out of his head?
“I think you’re misreading the situation, dear.” She patted his arm. “If she didn’t want to know you, she wouldn’t have come. She’s been miserable, though trying not to let anyone notice. Time to stop avoiding the conflict and get started on securing yourself a wife.”
“Aunt Lydia? Mr. Edwards?” Janey managed to squeeze through the crowd and join the two of them. She looked fetching in a light pink day dress and straw sun hat covered in an array of pink and white flowers. The pink bow at the right of her chin brought a youthful color to her complexion. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, dear.”
Why couldn’t he have fallen for a sweet, simple girl like Janey? “It’s just ‘Luke.’” He took her fingers in a genteel greeting. “Janey, thank you for coming. Did you enjoy the presentation?” he asked as he released her hand.
“It was a bit technical for me, but I enjoyed your beautiful speaking voice.”
“Ah. Technical. That could dampen my tour for some.” He looked at Mrs. Fitch to add her opinion.
She merely glanced away at the stack of copper bricks behind Lady Justice.
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
Janey fluttered her lashes, seeming to preen that he’d considered her thoughts a valuable commentary.
Mrs. Fitch glanced between Janey and Luke, gave an almost imperceptible tilt of her head the direction Bettina had gone, and pressed her lips together. Then she raised her brows, signaling with her eyes down the aisle, as if to say, “I think you have somewhere to be, young man.”
If she offered, albeit silently, he’d take her advice and go. “Pleased to see you again, Janey. Will you ladies excuse me?”
He waved to one of the other men in the far corner to take over and heard Mrs. Fitch behind him.
“He is a bit too slow for you, Janey dear. I have another fellow much more charming in mind.”
Luke choked back a laugh as he headed out the south entrance, through grand doors that led to the lagoon in the center of the Court of Honor.
“Bettina!” He couldn’t believe it. She stood in front of the colossal fountain depicting Columbus’s arrival in America. She turned at his call with red-rimmed eyes and tears streaking down her cheeks that could create a fountain of their own.
Shame for the way he’d spoken to her doused any fire he’d felt at her words. Somehow they had to clear up the mess they’d made—and it started with humbling himself. He stood beside her, waiting for her to accept his presence.
She turned back to the water trickling off the fountain’s oars and splashing below Columbus’s feet as he stood on the bow searching for the shore. Could they find dry ground?
“Bettina, will you forgive me?” He said it softly without demand or expectation that she should.
She looked up into his eyes, searched his soul for what seemed an eternity, and then offered her own apology. “I’ve made assumptions about you and judged you harshly without merit. The apology is mine to give, not yours. By meeting you, I came face-to-face for the first time with the kind of monster I blamed for my father’s death in a mine collapse.” She dropped her eyes to his chest. “I’m an orphan.”
“But you speak of your parents as if they’re alive.”
“I’m adopted. Adopted by the doctor … the doctor who couldn’t save my mother. But he could save me, as sick as I was with typhoid, too.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Just listen. When I heard you were rich, that made me angrier, because I assumed that you made money from the suffering of others. The monster in my mind I’d built up all these years finally had a face.”
“But—”
“I know.” She turned to face Columbus again as if she drew strength from the cascade of water, helping her pour out her story. “You weren’t a monster. The more I’ve watched you, the more I’ve discovered a man of kindness and integrity. A man who cares about others and serves without resentment. You brought water, food, and ran the smallest of errands for all of us”—she let out an ironic chuckle—“you made sure everyone else was taken care of first, before yourself. I couldn’t understand it or release that monstrous picture I’d built in my head even though my eyes could see.”
He lifted a hand, palm up, and held his breath. Would she touch him?
She placed her hand in his and a jolt rocketed through his body. They watched the light reflect on the splashing surface. The mist cooled the hot, still summer air around them. He released his breath slowly, evenly, so as not to disturb the moment, and listened to her heart.
“After my father’s death, my mother had no choice but to move us into the city.” She jutted her chin toward town. “Chicago. She did everything she could to survive. Things she wouldn’t have had to if my father hadn’t died. Then typhoid struck and people started dying in the epidemic. First my little brother, he was four.” She swiped away a tear dangling from her chin. “Then my mother fell ill for weeks and still tried to take in laundry. Eventually she caught pneumonia. That finally took her. She hadn’t worked in so long, we had no food. I begged on the streets while she slept, tried to help wash clothes, and began to get ill as well. But a neighbor took pity and called for a doctor to look in on our family.”
He tightened his hold on her hand, wishing he could carry this pain for her. Pain he’d had no idea he churned up like tailings from a mine poisoning the very ground it’d come from. That she could bear up under the weight of it made him admire her that much more for her strength. For the desire to change the circumstances of others like herself.
“On my mother’s deathbed, she told me not to be afraid, that the doctor was here to help me. He wouldn’t leave me alone.” She smiled at the ground and then gave him a sidelong glance that said she understood as an adult now what her mother had tried to do for her. “I don’t know whether he felt pressured or some form of guilt, but that doctor agreed to take care of me. He promised my mother he wouldn’t leave me behind when she breathed her last.” Her mouth worked a moment, though no words came out. She took a deep breath. “Right there, in that hovel, she gave me into the safekeeping of the doctor. And then she was gone. I was eight. He kept that promise, even refusing the neighbor’s payment for his visit. He knew our neighbor was a very poor man.” She smiled, her tears drying. “He still says he got the better part of the deal in a daughter. My parents adopted me, educated me, and have never treated me with anything but the deepest of love. I’m so blessed. But there are so many others who have no one to rescue them from starvation, disease, and poverty. That’s why I’m so driven. Someone has to help the others.”
She inspired him to want to do more, to help her live out the calling on her that seemed God ordained. If only he’d known sooner. “I’m so sorry my ignorance caused you further pain.”
She shook her head, the tiny ribbons down her back fluttering as the breeze off the water picked them up and dropped them back down. “You’ve done nothing wrong. What I want to say is thank you. Thank you for helping me face my childhood demons and forgive people caught in circumstances beyond their control.” She blinked in the sunshine as she gazed up at him. “If you consider me unworthy of your—”
Luke took her in his arms and held her close. “I consider you most precious.” Then he realized the liberty he had taken and released her. But he whispered into her ear as he pressed her hand to his heart, “The most precious of women.”