![]() | ![]() |
––––––––
TAKING THE EARLY SHIFT in the company mine allowed Evan time to work his claim for a few hours in the late afternoon. If he skipped dinner, he bought himself even more time, but with meals improving lately he had more reason to pull up to the long kitchen table. Besides, he was a big man that needed more than a bit of jerked beef and hunk of bread to satisfy him. Miss Sommer, though improving her cooking skills, was still troubling his mind and sometimes that tension he felt in her presence caused him to rush through his meal. That just wasn't something a Hartmann had ever wanted to do.
With a swing of his pick, he broke a large chunk of quartz from the rock wall and carried it outside into the sunlight where he could study it better. His teeth showed white against the grime coating his face. There was promise in this hole, this proved it. Maybe he wouldn't hit it this fall, but come spring he might, with a bit of luck and persistence. Persistence was something he had in spades—luck, not so much. But maybe luck could change like the seasons.
Tucking the quartz sample into his saddle bag, he secured his tools and headed out, back down the smaller stream that fed into Beaver Creek. Maybe he'd grab his dinner from the saloon and head over to Naomi's and see how Vicki and the baby were getting on. Along with a bit of that luck he was wishing for himself, he wished even more for it to shine on Vicki and her little girl. They certainly needed it more than he did. That luck might soften the heart of a mother back east and a letter would arrive welcoming Vicki and the baby home. But even as he thought it, he knew it would take more than luck. Naomi had it right. It'd take a miracle.
Evan tied his horse to the post in the alley behind Naomi's place. Dousing his grubby bandana in the watering trough, he scrubbed hard at his face, managing to lighten his skin tone a shade and bringing a tint of color to his newly shorn cheeks. The bandana was worse for the use, but Evan felt more human because of the quick wash. His bare cheeks felt the chill of the wind coming off the mountain, and he cursed his vanity.
It was a bit early for customers to come knocking at Naomi's front door, so Evan hoped to find her and maybe Vicki in the kitchen. But he was greeted by the buxom redhead, Katie, already dressed for the evening, or as it might be said, undressed for the evening.
“Evan! Aren't you lookin' fine! I like your boyish new look. Makes me want to take you in and be your mama.” She laughed. “I do love a man that still blushes.” Stepping to the side to allow him to enter, she managed to make the opening between the doorframe and her person as narrow as possible. Evan squeezed by and found Naomi sitting at the table holding the baby, Rebecca.
“Come on in, Evan! What brings you callin' at this hour? Doubt you’re here on business.” She patted the chair next to her with her free hand. “Sit yourself down. Katie, bring Evan a cup of coffee. Should still be hot.”
“I was hoping to see Vicki and find out if the little one needs anything. We got a paycheck yesterday.”
“She'll be done in a bit. Business.” Naomi lifted an eyebrow in the direction of the stairs.
Evan frowned. “I thought she was done with that until she heard from her mother. Thought the extra cash might help keep her from having to . . .”
“We gotta pay the bills and this ain't a charity house nor some home for wayward girls and orphans.” She gave a rueful laugh. “Well, maybe it might be a bit of that. Besides, this one's a nice chap, polite and clean. We try to keep her from workin' as much as we can.” Naomi pulled her finger from the child's grasp. “Here!” She held the child out to Evan. “Want to hold her?”
He shook his head. “No! Thanks, but no. I'm no good with kids.”
Naomi pushed the child onto Evan's lap and stood, smoothing her taffeta dress. “I've gotta' change. You'll be fine. Just talk to her like she was your horse.”
He held the child on his lap at arm's length, balancing her awkwardly on his knee. She was just old enough to begin giggling at those small things which amused her. Apparently, she found amusement in Evan. Her laughter brought a grin to Evan's lips, and he made a face at her, provoking more giggles. “You are a pretty little thing. You got the clear look of a Hartmann about your eyes, but the softness of your mama everywhere else.”
“She does, doesn't she? Makes me feel like Jimmy's still here with us.” Vicki stood in the doorway at the bottom of the stairs. Evan could see that she'd taken the time to change out of her working clothes and into a simple, sky blue cotton dress, a color that matched her eyes perfectly.
Evan stood as she entered. The habits of childhood still dictated his actions where a woman was concerned. He held the child out to Vicki's open arms. “You're looking well, Vicki. And the little one is growing so fast. I'd heard she wasn't feeling well, but she looks plenty healthy now.”
“She is. Thank you for your help, Evan.” She kept her eyes on the baby, nestling into the crook of her arm. “I'm sorry about.” She tipped her head slightly toward the stairs. “I wouldn't be still . . .”
Evan shifted his feet, uncomfortable at the change in topic. He moved to the stove and poured more coffee into his already full cup, an excuse to avoid her apologies. He remained there for a while, fiddling with the hot pad, his back to her. “You don't owe me any explanation. It's your life. I just want to help if I can.”
He could hear the soft sounds of the child, more like a lamb than a human, he thought.
“I'm just sorry a woman has so few choices. And those you got, well . . .” He forced himself to turn back to her.
Vicki said, “When my husband died in that mining accident three years ago, I thought things couldn't get much worse.” She moved to the table and sat in Naomi's empty chair. “I was wrong.” The child grabbed a strand of Vicki's long hair. “But when I met your brother—I had hope again. I thought things might be looking up.”
Vicki's face wore the look of one who'd cried all the tears within her, the reservoir dry. A faint smile on her face, she looked up at him. “I will choose to believe that, Evan. And take comfort in it.”
Putting down his cup in the sink, he shuffled the few feet to the door. “I'm praying for a miracle for that little girl. Think she deserves one.” He slipped his hat on his head as he headed for the door. Hesitating at the door, he turned, saying, “Let me know when the letter comes. Somehow we'll get you off this mountain before winter comes.”
Evan arrived at the house after everyone else had finished eating dinner. A single plate lay on the table. Drying the last dish, Lena stood peering out the window when he stepped into the kitchen. She turned at the sound of his footsteps. “Good evening, Evan. There's chicken and dumplings on the stove. Please help yourself.”
He simply nodded his head, mumbling a thank you. From the corner of her eye, she watched him scoop creamed chicken onto his plate. Surprised that it could be possible, she thought that he looked even more somber tonight than last night. In that moment, she felt more than curiosity about his sullenness. A stirring compassion made her want to ask what troubled him. But nothing about his body posture or countenance invited such inquiries. Instead of hastening out of the room as she’d done on previous evenings, she lingered.
“Ely told me the company has started payroll again. That's certainly good news.” She tried a topic that might break through his reserve, hoping to engage him in casual conversation.
“Yes, they paid out last week.” He mumbled, working a mouthful of biscuit past his teeth.
“Must be quite hard for you men.”
Evan glanced up, his green eyes shadowed with dark circles, making him look older and more worn down than ever. “It's harder on the men with families. This isn't a good place for women and young ones.” The words came out hard. A muscle in his jaw worked, but not at chewing his meal.
The utensils rattled as the drawer shut with the force of Lena's bristling temper. “And why is that, Mr. Hartmann? It seems this is a city after all. Cities usually attract both men and women, and where there are the two genders, there are inevitably children. Do you have something against cities?”
“This is a boom town, Miss Sommer. 'City' is hardly what I'd call it. Boom towns have that name for a reason. They explode with activity; businesses come to take advantage of the gold and silver . . .and anything else, and then they move on. They live for a short time, fed by greed, and then they die. And heaven help the man or woman stuck in them through a winter.”
Turning her back to him she stopped herself in time before throwing the towel into the sink. With supreme control, she folded the towel into a neat rectangle, placing it on the counter. Gathering her remaining composure, she walked from the room. “Good night, Mr. Hartmann.”