Laurie awoke in the morning finding herself eager to start the day. How odd. Instead of dreading the very thought of spending long hours in a place she detested, she was actually looking forward to this new turn her life had taken, kind of like a new adventure. Only temporary, of course. Darcy McKenna wasn’t a man who easily showed his emotions, but when he talked about the new vein of gold they’d found, excitement sparked in those extraordinary eyes of his. He couldn’t hide it. With any luck, the mine would soon start paying off again—maybe better than before—and she’d soon be heading for Philadelphia.
As for learning how to hitch up the horses, this was all part of the new and necessary path she’d chosen. Of course, she could do it. Lots of women knew how to hitch a horse and carriage, and soon so would she. So, what was the proper attire for working at a mine? Nothing frivolous. After careful consideration, she chose the plainest dress she owned, the dark blue bombazine that buttoned nearly to her throat. She fixed her hair in a bun, foregoing the usual curly tendrils she usually arranged to dangle around her face. Confident she’d dressed appropriately she went downstairs.
Where was Valeria? Laurie had hoped to find her already there, but she hadn’t arrived yet. Too bad. Laurie hadn’t looked forward to telling her she’d been dismissed and was eager to get it over with. She fixed her own breakfast. By the time she finished, it was nearly seven o’clock. She threw on a light wrap and walked to the small stable that stood behind the house. The heavy wagon Hugh and Father used for their work stood inside, along with the six-seater landau, used when the entire family went for an outing, and the light, two-wheel curricle. The sight of the landau brought her nearly to tears, remembering Father sitting tall and proud in the driver’s high seat as he drove his family to church on Sundays. Who would drive them now? Perhaps she’d better learn to hitch up the landau and wagon, not just the curricle. Not today, though. One would be all she could handle.
The stable had always been the exclusive domain of the men in the family and she’d never paid much attention to the family’s two horses, Brownie and Prancer. During these past few days, the servants had seen to it that the horses were fed and the stable cleaned, but now? Dear Lord, she hadn’t thought it through. With the servants gone, not only would the three women of the household be doing the cooking and cleaning, they’d also be feeding the horses and shoveling out the stable. Problems she would deal with later.
Darcy had already arrived and was busily laying out the gear he’d collected from inside the stable. He looked up when he saw her. Unsmiling, all businesslike, he gave her a nod, obviously his version of a friendly greeting. “You want the curricle, right?” She nodded. “Watch carefully.”
Dutifully, she stood and watched while he led the horses from the stable, tied them to a post, and picked up a brush. “What are their names?” he asked.
“That’s Brownie and that’s Prancer.”
“First you always want to brush the horse.”
She watched as he gave Brownie a thorough brushing, complete with commentary as he went along. “You don’t want a piece of dirt left that might irritate the horse,” he muttered as he brushed. “Make sure you don’t miss anything.” When he finished, he stepped back, held out the brush to her, and declared, “Now it’s your turn. Let’s see how you do with Prancer.”
For the first time ever, she was about to handle a horse all by herself. The whole idea of it scared her, to put it mildly. What if this animal suddenly bucked? What if he kicked her? Never mind. Look confident, like she hadn’t a care in the world. She took the brush. “Don’t help me. I must learn how to do this alone.”
“Fine.”
At least he wasn’t laughing at her. Mustn’t make a mistake. Concentrating on everything he’d told her, she brushed Prancer and found that despite her fears, the horse remained docile, not seeming to notice she was there. She made doubly sure she’d brushed every inch of that horse before she stepped back and asked, “How’s that?”
“Fine.”
“What’s next?”
“Next, you hitch the horses to the carriage. First we’ll go over the name of each piece of gear.” He pointed at and described the various parts of the horse gear she’d seen all her life and never paid the least attention to. As he described each piece, she listened carefully, silently repeating each name, making a point to remember it. When he was done, he said, “All right, now you’re going to harness the horses.”
God help her, she would do this right if it killed her. Under his direction, acutely aware of his sharp eyes upon her, she began to harness Brownie and Prancer. Harness, traces, straps, cinches, head stalls. The collar, bridle, and bit. Never had she been so intent on anything in her life. When she’d got to the breast plate, she circled it around Prancer’s chest with exquisite care. “Not so high it would cut into his windpipe,” he said. “Nor so low it obstructs the horse’s movement.” There, she’d done it just right, she knew she had.
When she finished, he awarded her a quick “Good enough,” and pointed to the curricle in the stable. “Time to roll it out.”
She entered the stable. Facing the curricle, she picked up the shafts. Stepping backward, she gave a hefty tug. The thing wouldn’t budge.
“Need some help?” he called.
“No, I do not.” Bracing herself, she tried again but still no movement.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” By God, she’d move this buggy or die in the attempt. Taking a deep breath, gathering every bit of strength she possessed, she pulled with all her might. Her hands slipped. Before she even knew what happened, she had fallen backward and now sat plopped on the ground, her skirt hiked up to her knees.
He stepped forward, frowning with concern. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She burst out laughing and held out her hand. “Help me up, please, and I hope you enjoyed the view.”
Blank-faced and without comment, he pulled her to her feet. Had the man no sense of humor? “Stand back. I can do this.” She got a firm grasp on the shafts again. The wheels moved! Only a few inches, but enough that with another tremendous tug, they started to roll. Grasping the shafts firmly, she backed out of the stable, teeth clamped to contain an unladylike grunt. She didn’t stop until she reached the proper spot behind the horses. She dropped the shafts, caught her breath, and in a miraculously steady voice remarked, “You said the shafts go through the tugs on both sides, if I remember correctly.”
“Right.”
The heartless man showed not the least appreciation for the tremendous effort she’d just made. No applause, no “good work,” no nothing, and that included his stony-faced reaction at her generous display of leg when she fell backward. Actually, she hadn’t wanted him to notice how mightily she’d struggled, but that was beside the point. She finished without a problem. Success! Surely, he must see what a capable person she was, even if he didn’t care to admit it. That she’d hitched two horses to a carriage all by herself was a major achievement in her life. Inside, she glowed with pride. Outside, she gave a careless shrug. “So, is that all there is to it?”
“Just about. Of course, hitching a wagon is different, but you managed the curricle all right, so you won’t have any trouble.”
That was about as close to a compliment the man could give, so she’d better not expect anything more. “Then shall we proceed to the mine?”
“Want to do the driving?”
Just when she was savoring her success at harnessing the horses, hitching the carriage, now she was supposed to drive, too? Her heart sank. Only one answer could she give, though. “I’ve never done it before, but how hard could it be? Of course, I shall drive.”
After a slight hesitation, he came close to actually smiling. “That won’t be necessary. You’ve had enough lessons for one day.” He nodded toward his horse. “I’ll tie Champ to the curricle and do the driving. That is, unless you object?”
“Either way is fine with me.” She accompanied her remark with an uncaring flip of her hand. Vastly relieved, she climbed to the high-perched seat and waited as Darcy tethered his horse behind and settled beside her. He would never know how unsure of herself she’d been, how she’d nearly given up, coming close as a gnat’s leg to admitting she wasn’t capable of doing a simple task performed by thousands of people every day. Only her pride had saved her from complete humiliation, but he didn’t need to know any of that.
When they started for the mine, Darcy gave her the reins, told her how to use them and taught her a few simple commands. Then he took over, and they chatted the rest of the way. He did most of the talking, describing what he needed to start up the Monarch again, and how he would go about it. She could tell from the excitement in his voice that here was a project that sparked his interest. “I want to hire as many Cornish miners as I can,” he told her.
“That’s fine, but I hear they’re a crude lot.”
“Yes, they are, but they’re the best there is. If you’re going to work at the mine, you’ll have to get used to them. You think you can manage?”
“Why would you think I couldn’t?”
“The way you were raised. That fiancé of yours, for instance. Fine manners, I’d wager. Smart. Well educated. No doubt a paragon of virtues rolled into one.” He slanted an inquiring glance. “Isn’t he?”
How odd that a man who in many ways seemed rough and unpolished would use a word like “paragon.” Sometimes he surprised her. Even more surprising, why was he so interested in what Brandon was like? If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was jealous. “How did you guess?” she asked, feigning great surprise. “Brandon is all of that and more.” That wasn’t enough. She couldn’t resist one more little jab. “He’s a wonderful man in every respect. I can hardly wait to get back to him.”
Darcy said no more, and they rode the rest of the way in silence.
The Monarch Mine had looked ugly enough to begin with. Now that it was muddy, trash-strewn and deserted, it looked even more depressing. Laurie had paid little attention before, but when she walked into the ramshackle office, she looked around with new interest. This was where she would work, if only for a short time, and she’d better pay attention. Darcy followed her in. After a quick look around, she inquired, “So what am I supposed to do?”
“This isn’t my own mine or my own office,” he began. “But they’re basically the same, so I’m assuming Hugh mainly took care of the payroll. That’s a big job. Wasn’t that Hugh’s desk over there?” He walked to a large, battered desk and opened a few drawers. “Here we are.” He pulled a big blue ledger from one of the drawers. “Here’s what we call the time book. Sit down and I’ll show you.”
Laurie sat beside him at the desk. He was looking at her strangely, as if he wasn’t sure she could understand. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”
“It’s a bit complicated.”
Did he think she was an idiot? “Keep going.”
“All right then.” He opened the ledger. “This is your basic book for payroll, or you can call it a ledger. There’s also a cash book and books for accounting, but this is the one you’ll mostly be dealing with.” He went on to explain how she was to write the name of each employee in the ledger. Then the foreman, or foremen, as the case might be, would insert the time in days, or proportions of a day, each person has worked, and the particular work he has been engaged in. “It makes a difference, you see. Men who work underground are paid more than those who work on the surface.”
“I can certainly see why,” she said.
“Yes, it’s a dangerous business. Payday comes once a week. Ordinarily the payroll master goes to the bank to get the money, but being as it’s you, we’ll get somebody else to—”
“I am perfectly capable of going to the bank myself.” She’d come close to snapping at him.
“Fine.” He sounded a little annoyed himself. “You will have an armed guard. That’s standard practice, whether the paymaster is a big, burly six feet two or…you.”
What did he almost say? Something insulting, no doubt. Or a weak, insignificant female like you. “That makes sense, Mr. McKenna. Of course, I’ll need a guard. So, I take the money up to the mine and pay each miner what he’s earned. Sounds simple to me and nothing I can’t handle.”
“I’m not so sure.” He leaned back in his chair and eyed her up and down, as if he felt the need to assess her carefully. “Some of those miners are rough characters, not the type of man you’re accustomed to. I mentioned the Cornish miners. They’re from the coal mines of Cornwall. That’s in England.”
“I know where it is.” Good lord, did he think she was some kind of ignoramus who didn’t even know where Cornwall was?
Blank-faced, he continued on. “They’re considered some of the best hard rock miners in the world. A rough bunch, though. They speak English, but they’re hard to understand. You might find—”
“I shall cope, Mr. McKenna. Shall we move on?”
“Fine, then. I’ve a few more things to show you, but if you think you’ve mastered the payroll, then after that we’re done.”
“So, when should I start?”
“Any time you want. There’s plenty to do, even though I’ll have to wait until the paperwork is complete before I can actually get underway.”
Laurie looked around the office with a critical eye. Dirty, bare windows. Shabby furniture. Dust everywhere. “I’ll start tomorrow. If nothing else, I’ll get some curtains up before you even start.”
His lips twitched with suppressed laughter. “Curtains are not at the top of my priority list, Miss Sinclair.”
So, he found her amusing? Fine; she didn’t care. Curtains were on top of her list whether he liked it or not.
Soon after, they closed up the office and returned to the curricle. “Do you think you can manage by yourself on the way home?” he asked.
“I don’t know why not. It wasn’t nearly as difficult as I expected.”
On the way back, she drove the curricle herself. This time, he rode his horse behind her after making some remark about “just in case.” She did just fine. “Just in case” didn’t happen, and she remembered how to hold the reins and the simple commands he’d taught her. All in all, the day had gone well, and when she pulled the curricle to a stop outside the stable in back of the house, she announced. “You don’t have to stay. I can do the rest myself.”
“I’m sure you can but allow me to assist anyway.” At least he wasn’t smirking and seemed sincere enough as he helped her unhitch the horses. He instructed her on how she should rub them down and give them their oats. While she was doing that, she watched, silently grateful when he turned the curricle around and backed it into the stable.
As he swung back on his horse, he called down to her. “There are times when you’ll need the wagon. In a few days I’ll show you how to hitch it up, too.”
“Fine, then.” She waved a quick goodbye and in a buoyant mood walked into the house. The day had gone better than expected. How silly she’d been to fear she couldn’t manage something as simple as hitching two horses to a buggy. Maybe she could do a lot of things she’d thought she couldn’t, and this was just the beginning.
Once inside the house, her spirits fell. The problems she hadn’t thought about all day began to surface. Had Mother gotten up nerve enough to dismiss Valeria? Probably not, and she, Laurie, would have to do it. How was Hugh doing? She hadn’t had the chance to visit today, and she must do so. And if by chance Mother had dismissed Valeria, who was going to cook dinner, clean the house?
She looked forward to tomorrow, although she wasn’t sure why. Darcy McKenna didn’t like her. Plain to see he was only tolerating her because he had to. Although… She wished now she hadn’t been so snappish. Today, to her surprise, there were times when she’d actually enjoyed his company.
* * * *
That evening, Darcy sank into the one comfortable chair in his room at the Gold Spike Hotel. With a sigh of satisfaction, he gazed around at what had been his home for the past five years. Slightly on the shabby side, the room contained the one chair, a bed, plain wooden dresser and washstand. He might live in less than luxurious surroundings, but even so, he had no intention of moving. His good friend, Tom, recently remarked, “That place is a dump. Maybe you couldn’t find anything better when you first came to Lucky Creek, but there’s far better places now. Why don’t you move?”
“What’s wrong with it?” Darcy had asked.
“Your bed squeaks. That noise from below is so bad I don’t know how you sleep, what with the drunks and fancy ladies whooping it up every night.”
Tom would never understand. Darcy himself hardly understood why, unlike his rich colleagues, he had no desire to live any differently than he had before he opened the Atlas. He’d wasted little time, if any, examining why this was so, but suspected his lack of interest in the luxuries of life had something to do with the fact he’d spent his entire boyhood in a coal mine. Twelve hours a day in total darkness. Sitting on a hard bench with nothing to do but listen for the next car coming so he could open the door and let it through. Except Sunday. God, how he’d looked forward to the one day a week he could see the sun, white clouds, the beautiful, blessed blue sky. When he was eleven, they promoted him to breaker boy. My God, how had he stood it? Hour after hour in the dim light, at least not alone but with other boys, their miserable faces black with soot, their spirits bitter and crushed. He was lucky he hadn’t lost a hand or a finger. Many did.
Darcy pulled off his boots and dropped them on the floor. He looked around and smiled to himself. A dump? This room was a palace compared to eight hundred feet belowground in a West Virginia coal mine. He wasn’t like other men, never would be. Let them have their fancy mansions, fine carriages, and beautiful wives to show off. Marriage wasn’t for him, nor was flaunting his wealth in any way, whatsoever. For him, the luxuries in his life lay in the satisfaction he received from making a success of his mine, seeing his investments grow, although what he’d do with the money he didn’t much care. His room might be shabby, but its big window that faced east made up for it. As long he could see the sun rise over the mountains each morning, look up to a blue sky, he had everything in life he’d ever need.
A light knock sounded on his door. A soft, female voice whispered, “Darcy? Are you there?”
He went to the door and opened it wide. “Come in. Haven’t seen you for a while.”
Lucille Wagner, widow of hotel owner Lucius Wagner, stepped inside. Her salt-and-pepper hair piled in a knot atop her head indicated that she’d been in the world longer than he had, maybe by quite a few years. He’d never asked her age because it didn’t matter. At first glance, she looked like just another middle-aged woman in her high-buttoned, white shirtwaist and plain black skirt. Still attractive, though. She might have lost her girlish figure, but her comfortable curves and liveliness in bed made her all the woman he needed. Their relationship consisted of a lot more than just the sex, though. His words flowed easily when he talked to her. As she listened, those big grey-green eyes—her best feature—brimmed with humor and friendliness. Smart and insightful, she could hold her own on any subject they cared to discuss.
He greatly admired her but didn’t love her, and she was fine with that. She didn’t love him either, although he sensed her warm fondness for him. Her husband had owned and operated the Gold Spike. When he died suddenly of a heart attack, everyone thought his modest, self-effacing little wife would sell. After all, she was only a woman, so how could she possibly run a successful business? But Lucille surprised them. She kept the hotel, and with a shrewd business sense that maybe even she didn’t know she had, took over the operation herself. With the improvements she made, and was still making, profits grew each year. Darcy had been friends with Lucius, but after his death, he and Lucille had drifted into more than just an ordinary friendship. She lived in a suite of rooms at the other end of the second floor, so what could be handier? They hadn’t planned it this way, but their special arrangement suited them both. Neither ever made demands on the other, nor expected anything of the other.
Once inside, Lucille shut the door and inquired, “Where have you been?”
He waved her to his one good chair and sat on the bed. “Here and there. Been busy.”
She settled into the chair. “You haven’t been sick?”
“No.”
“You haven’t visited for a while.”
What she meant was, he hadn’t come to her bed for a while. “Like I said—”
“You’ve been busy.” A hint of a smile played on her lips. “I’ve missed you.”
He owed her an explanation, but how could he explain when he himself wasn’t sure why he hadn’t paid a visit to one of the most understanding, sympathetic women he’d ever known. Sometimes when he went to her room, they just talked. He didn’t drink much, but once, when he’d had one too many beers, he’d let his barriers down and told her about his miserable childhood. She’d listened with such compassion that for once he held nothing back. Reached deep inside himself to a place he’d never visited before, to his agonized memories of the heartless greed of the mine owners, the cruelty of his parents, his desperate yearning just to look up and see the sun anytime he wanted. Yes, he could do that now, but even so, there were days when the world closed in on him, and he was still that young boy, helpless, trapped in the desolate darkness of a coal mine and there was no way out.
She’d held him tight in her arms that night and whispered, “You must put it all behind you.”
“I pretty much have,” he’d said.
“No, you haven’t,” she told him. “The world sees you as a successful mine owner without a care in the world, but on the inside, you’re still a lost boy looking for the sunlight. If you don’t find it soon, it will ruin your life.”
Silently he’d scoffed at her idea, and still did. Now there she sat waiting for an answer to her very reasonable question. Why hadn’t he been to see her? He’d be honest, like he always was. Never would he lie to Lucille Wagner. “I honestly don’t know why I haven’t been to see you. Busy, I guess. That’s all I can tell you.”
“You’re always busy. It’s something else.” She thought a moment. “You’ve met a woman.”
He burst into laughter. “I talk to women all the time, but I assure you, I haven’t suddenly lost my heart to one, nor is that likely to happen.”
“Really?” The skeptical expression on her face clearly indicated he hadn’t convinced her. “Name some of the women you’ve had dealings with lately.”
She had the wrong idea, but he’d humor her, despite her wrongheaded thinking. “Well, let’s see now… I’ve mostly been dealing with the Sinclair women. They’ve needed some help after Sam died.”
Lucille nodded agreeably. “What a sad business that was. I’m glad you’re helping them. Mrs. Sinclair’s a fine woman. So’s Ada, such a likable girl, although it’s a shame she’s so shy. I don’t know Laurie that well, although I’ve seen her in church a few times. She hasn’t been here that long, but she seems a lovely person, quite beautiful, and I get the impression she’s settling into her new home quite nicely.”
His head jerked back in surprise. “Where did you get that idea? Laurie Sinclair doesn’t belong in a place like Lucky Creek. She can hardly wait to get back to Philadelphia where life will be a hell of a lot easier than it is here. She likes her comforts and doesn’t want to stay in what she considers this hellhole a minute longer than she has to.”
“My goodness, it seems you’ve taken quite an interest in that young lady.” Lucille regarded him through half-lowered eyelids. “Perhaps you have a special interest in her?”
“Good God, no.” He explained how he was going to pay off Dominick’s loan. How he would own fifty-one percent interest in the Monarch Mine, and despite his preference to the contrary, was committed to working with Laurie Sinclair for a while. “At least she’s volunteered to help, I’ll give her that. She’ll leave soon as she can, though. The day her brother is well enough to take over, she’ll be hightailing it back to Philadelphia and that bug catcher fiancé of hers.”
“Why don’t you like her?”
Leave it to Lucille to ask one of those piercing questions that made him think. “It’s not that I don’t like her. It’s hard to explain. Laurie lived on Society Hill in Philadelphia. She grew up in a world centered on class and privilege. Lucky Creek is the last place on earth she’d pick to live. Like I said, she’ll head home at the first opportunity, which is fine with me.”
“Really?”
Lucille had that perceptive look on her face. He’d seen it before when she saw right through him. “Yes, really. She can’t help it, but she’s a bit of snob and she hates it here.”
“Even though her mother and sister are staying?”
“They want to move back, too. It’s a matter of money. At least they’ve made an effort to like it here, unlike Miss High-and-Mighty Laurie Sinclair.”
Lucille chuckled. “My, my, Darcy, I hardly ever hear you make a derogatory remark, yet here you are, making no bones concerning your dislike of the young lady. But is it dislike? Are you sure about that?”
“Very sure.” Was he lying? All day he’d been thinking about this morning and how she’d bravely undertook to harness the horses, despite her obvious fear. And then, when she’d fallen backward, and her skirt flew up? Seeing those long, slim legs, those slender ankles, caused an unexpected spike in his heartbeat. His breath had caught, and he’d barely managed to conceal the unexpected, and certainly unwelcome, effect she’d had on him.
Lucille got up to leave. With a pleasant smile, she remarked, “I must go. Lots to do. I’ll not trouble you further. Remember, my door is always open.”
After she left, Darcy sat staring into space. Whether he wanted to or not, he’d just hurt a woman he loved and respected. Of course, she was too much of a lady to show it, and had her pride, but he knew. What he didn’t know was why he hadn’t visited her room lately. She seemed to have this crazy idea that he had another woman on his mind, and in particular, Laurie Sinclair.
Maybe there was some truth in that. Maybe more than he realized, especially after this morning, but what good would it do him? Laurie Sinclair loved some guy in Philadelphia who studied bugs. Holy hell, he couldn’t begin to deal with that.
If he was smart, he’d be showing up at Lucille’s door later tonight.
But somehow, he knew he wouldn’t.