Читать книгу Accidental Courtship - Lisa Bingham - Страница 11

Chapter Two

It was well past midnight when Jonah brought a halt to the rescue operation on the hill. By that time, they were able to confirm that the railroad crew, nine farmers and businessmen, a widow, two families and forty-one mail-order brides had been found—all fifty-nine of them.

No. Make that sixty.

Because there was the doctor.

Sumner Havisham.

A woman.

Thanks to the Good Lord, there had been no fatalities. But some of the injuries had been severe. There were broken bones, gashes and head wounds. Two women and the conductor were currently unconscious, and they were already running low on medical supplies—which didn’t bode well for the rest of the winter. Especially since it didn’t look like anyone would be leaving Bachelor Bottoms anytime soon.

“You’re sure the pass is blocked?” Creakle asked for the hundredth time.

Jonah silenced him with a warning glance. “Let’s not spread that piece of news around, Creakle.”

“But you don’t know for sure, do you? I mean, once it’s light outside, y’ might see another way out,” Creakle said, his tone only minutely softer.

Obviously, Creakle was hoping that Jonah was exaggerating because the man’s expression fell and his eyes took on the woe of a little boy who’d been told Christmas was canceled. Being cut off meant that there would be no fresh supplies. No more shipments of food or goods. Even worse, no deliveries from Creakle’s beloved Montgomery Ward catalog.

“But there could be some other way out?” Creakle asked again, his tone full of both hope and dread.

“Maybe,” Jonah offered. But he doubted they’d find a different means to escape the valley. The debris field from the avalanche had filled the gap with more than fifty feet of snow. The locomotive and the passenger cars were destroyed, and Jonah was sure the rails would be warped or torn free. There would be no trains coming or going from Bachelor Bottoms until the snow melted. Even then, it might take months to repair the line.

“Mebbe we could get a man t’ hike over the top.” The suggestion was given half-heartedly.

Jonah had already entertained the same thought. He’d even sent one of the miners to test the slopes. But the drifts were unsettled and loose, and each step had threatened to cause another avalanche, so Jonah had been forced to call the fellow back. He wouldn’t risk a man’s life in a foolhardy attempt to get the women out of the valley. It could wait a day or two.

He hoped.

Unfortunately, he was beginning to see that while he and some of the other men had spent their time on the mountainside, the situation here in the mining camp was growing more critical than he’d first supposed. Just as he’d feared, the arrival of the women had upset the carefully regulated schedules of shifts and respites. Worse, there was a restlessness permeating the air—as if the wind itself could sense that things had changed at Bachelor Bottoms.

The men were no longer alone.

“How long have they been this way, Creakle?”

“An hour or so. ’Bout the same time Batchwell came stormin’ into the office and told me to send someone t’ tell you t’ come back t’ town fer a meeting.”

Jonah grimaced. A late-night conference with the owners wasn’t completely out of character. But Batchwell’s exact words as quoted by the runner was for Jonah to “bring along that chit,” meaning their new company doctor.

“I guess it was too much to hope that I could break the news about Sumner Havisham’s gender to Ezra Batchwell and Phineas Bottoms,” Jonah said ruefully.

Creakle chortled. “Word spread through the camp faster than that snow comin’ off the mountain. Mebbe you didn’t notice, but Batchwell and Bottoms hightailed it to the accident scene so quick I wouldn’a been surprised if the snow hadn’t melted ahead of them like the Red Sea parting for Moses.”

Jonah grimaced. He might not have seen the men coming, but he’d heard Batchwell shouting at the rescue party with such indignation that his bellowing had threatened to bring the rest of the mountainside down around their ears. Jonah’s only consolation had been the fact that Dr. Havisham had left with the first group of passengers to be taken into town. Jonah had told Ike Everett, one of the mule skinners, to take the passengers to the Miners’ Hall where the women could warm themselves and dry their clothes. Therefore, when Batchwell had stomped up the hillside, demanding to see the “lying, thieving, no-good charlatan,” Sumner Havisham wasn’t around.

Jonah might not approve of a woman parading around as a doctor, but he wouldn’t subject any gentle-born female to Batchwell’s anger. He had a short fuse and his temper could burn as hot as dynamite. After nearly twenty minutes of ranting about the avalanche, the mangled train and the stranded passengers, Jonah had thought the man had vented his anger once and for all. But judging from the lamplight blazing from the office windows, both Ezra Batchwell and Phineas Bottoms were waiting for round two.

Creakle snorted. “Looks like they’re ready t’ confront the lady doctor, and you get t’ be the witness.”

Right now, all Jonah wanted was a hot meal and a warm bed. He was cold and hungry and had long since lost his patience. He needed a few minutes of peace, quiet and solitude to push back the old demons that rattled inside him whenever his back seized up and burned like the blazes.

Many more days like today, and you’ll be pushin’ up daisies.

No.

Any moments of respite he’d hoped to have seemed far from likely. Even now, as he nudged his gelding onto the main thoroughfare, he sensed the hushed expectancy. The shivering anticipation. The need. Even worse, the air shimmered with a host of unusual noises.

Laughter.

High-pitched chatter.

Singing.

With each step his mount took, it became obvious that—while Jonah had been overseeing the rescue operation—the men who hadn’t been on the slopes or on duty had seen to the needs of the stranded passengers, the bulk of whom were women. Now they didn’t look inclined to leave. By the looks of it, half the men of Bachelor Bottoms stood on the road outside the Miners’ Hall. All of them within full view of the mine offices.

No wonder the owners were riled up again.

“We found a few menfolk—farmers and salesmen—and two small families on the train. They’ve been put up in the empty miners’ houses on the edge of town,” Creakle said. “A few of the miners doubled up so we had enough room for everyone. But the womenfolk...”

They’d been brought to the hall as a temporary situation, but it was apparent that they would have to stay there for a little while longer. There was no other building large enough to house that many females at once. Unfortunately, that meant that the men who were used to gathering there to play darts or checkers had nowhere else to go.

Jonah followed the direction of the men’s gazes toward the two-story building. Even though the evening was black as pitch, it was easy to see that the women had staked their claim on the frame structure. Soft lamplight painted the street with panes of buttery gold. Due to a lack of curtains, the women had seen fit to make do with what window coverings they could find. The openings were hung with lacy petticoats and brightly patterned shawls, scarves and dresses. Overall, the effect was warm and inviting and fanciful—and certainly more welcoming than the chilly miners’ shacks or the inquisition that awaited Jonah in the main office.

Even worse, now that the men had been drawn to the hall by the feminine sounds, they weren’t inclined to leave, even though there was little hope that they would ever be invited inside. Instead, dressed in their coats and hats and scarves, they pounded their boots to keep warm. But they didn’t talk. There was a nervousness, a giddiness and...a reverence to their vigil—as if they feared the women would disappear in a puff of smoke.

“The men have been at it since they ended their shift,” Creakle offered “By then, they weren’t needed on the hill, so’s they came to gawp at the ladies.”

Which meant Batchwell and Bottoms were probably close to a fit of apoplexy.

Jonah opened his mouth to order the men to return to their quarters, but before he could speak, one of the heavy carved doors to the hall flew open, and there, backlit in the lamplight, was Miss...

No.

Dr. Havisham.

Somehow, she’d found the time to clean herself up. Her face was washed, her clothes were changed and a voluminous apron covered her from hem to neck. She stood for a moment, her hands on her hips, frowning at the shapes she could see in the darkness.

“Get away now! Scat!” She shooed at them with the hem of her apron. “These women don’t need you spying on them like foxes eyeing a henhouse. Go home.”

Finally, the miners began slipping away into the shadows. As soon as the last man had turned away, Dr. Havisham sent a stern gaze in Jonah’s direction.

“Mr. Ramsey.”

Jonah brought his mount up short. He hadn’t been aware that Dr. Havisham could see him in the darkness. He’d been hoping to slip away unnoticed. That way, he could send someone to retrieve the woman and deliver her to the mine offices. Apparently, he wouldn’t escape a confrontation so easily.

“Yes, Miss...” She frowned and he quickly corrected himself. “Dr. Havisham.”

Her disapproving glance could have set fire to a bush at twenty paces.

“I might have expected such rude behavior from the workers, but not of their leader.”

For some reason, the woman’s clipped British accent and lilting cadence softened her reprimand. Jonah opened his mouth to explain that he’d just arrived and that he’d had no part in the silent vigil. But one glimpse of the spots of pink on her cheeks warned him that it would do no good. She had her dander up, that was for sure.

So he lifted his hat instead, murmuring, “Ma’am.”

Her lips pursed, causing a shallow dimple to appear in her cheek. A part of him wondered if that tiny crease would deepen if she laughed.

Dr. Havisham huffed. “I hope you’ll make it clear to your miners that we women aren’t to be stared at like monkeys in a menagerie, Mr. Ramsey.”

He tried not to laugh. She looked quite militant with her arms folded, even when she used that imperious tone and highfalutin words like menagerie. He wondered if she was always like this, quick to battle, eager to defend those she felt were in her care. Unfortunately, some of her bravado was negated by her obvious weariness. Dark shadows lingered under her eyes. A garish bruise made her look vulnerable and fragile. Judging by the number of people they’d pulled from the wreckage with injuries—both major and minor—Jonah wasn’t the only one who’d had a trying day.

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled in what he hoped was a soothing tone of voice. “The evening Devotional was canceled due to our rescue efforts. There’s a morning Devotional scheduled to take its place when the hoot-owl and the early-bird shifts switch places. I’ll be sure to mention that the Miners’ Hall is off-limits to all the men.”

“Thank you,” she said. Then, since he’d conceded so easily to her argument, some of the starch wilted out of her posture.

Leaving her looking...lost...

Exhausted.

“How are all the passengers?” Jonah asked, somehow loath to see her disappear inside again. Now that her militant stance had eased, he couldn’t help thinking that Sumner Havisham might be considered a handsome woman. She wasn’t pretty exactly. She wasn’t sweet and dreamy with a Cupid-bow’s pout. No, she was sturdy. A little tall for a woman. Unconventional.

But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t turn heads. Especially in the territories where a fragile ingenue wouldn’t last a week.

No, this woman could hold her own.

“Now that I’ve had time to examine everyone pulled from the wreckage, I’m relieved to say that most of them are better off than I’d first believed. We’ve got a half dozen broken bones, lots of bruises and cuts, but no life-threatening injuries. Thankfully, the last of my unconscious patients roused a few minutes ago, which is a good sign. For most of the women and the few remaining crew members still housed in the hall, there’s nothing that some sleep and a good, hot meal won’t cure.”

A good, hot meal.

“I told Stumpy at the cook shack to bring you something.”

“Early this afternoon, a pair of men brought coffee and biscuits. Thank you, Mr. Ramsey. But many of the women were too dazed or upset to eat. There was no evening meal provided, probably because your...chef...was overwhelmed with the task of feeding the men who’d helped in our rescue. I’m sure the women can wait until morning. By then, I imagine their appetites will have completely returned.”

Botheration. Why hadn’t Stumpy sent something to the women when he’d fed the men? The last thing Jonah needed on his hands was a passel of hungry, angry women.

But quick upon the heels of that thought came another dilemma that Jonah hadn’t anticipated when the pass had been blocked. Although the mine stockpiled the necessary staples to see them through the winter, their supplies were made with two hundred hungry miners in mind. If they couldn’t get the stranded passengers through the canyon, their foodstuffs would need to be stretched. Jonah would have to send out a hunting party. And if they couldn’t make up what was lacking that way, they would have to cut the men’s daily allotment.

Which meant hungry miners.

Which meant trouble.

“And what about you, Miss Havisham? Did you take the time to eat?”

Her guilt was so obvious that he felt a tug of protectiveness. One that made him ashamed that he could be so easily swayed by a striking woman. No. Not striking. Inviting? How else would you describe a woman with such soft brown hair, brown eyes—even her dress was brown.

So why did the combination make him feel warm inside?

Jonah resolutely pushed that thought aside. He must be even more weary than he thought if he was entertaining such drivel. He’d long ago dedicated his career and his future to the Batchwell Bottoms mine. And he’d had no regret at signing an agreement to forego drinking, cussing or being in the company of women.

Which meant that it was time for him to focus on the job. And that meant summoning Dr. Havisham to the impending meeting with the mine’s owners.

Straightening in his saddle, he tried his best to look authoritative and imposing—even though his back felt as if it were on fire. Pushing aside the pain, Jonah pointed toward the mine offices. “If you’ll join me at that building there, the one at the end of the row, I’ll see to it that Stumpy brings you a plate.”

“I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to—”

He sighed, lifting a hand to stop her.

“You misunderstand, Miss Havisham. I wasn’t offering a social invitation.” He hesitated before saying, “You’ve been summoned to a meeting with the owners of the mine—your so-called employers. I’ve been told to ensure that you get there as soon as possible. They want to have a word with you before you retire.” He waited one second, two, sure that she would object. When she didn’t budge, he prompted, “If you wouldn’t mind.”

When she finally spoke, she all but pushed the words through her clenched jaw. “If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll fetch a wrap.”

He hadn’t meant to imply that he would squire her to the offices himself.

As soon as the thought appeared, Jonah realized he was being churlish—and shortsighted. If Dr. Sumner Havisham were to march up the boardwalk without an escort...

Resisting a groan, he turned to Creakle, the only man brave enough to disobey Jonah’s orders to hotfoot it back to the row houses.

“Ya want me t’ take yer horse t’ the livery?”

It was the last thing Jonah wanted—because he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stand up, let alone walk.

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Creakle made a cackling noise. “I got no problem missin’ the fireworks that’re ’bout to go off in the office.”

“What do you mean?” Jonah handed the older man his reins.

“Yer forgettin’. They hired Dr. Havisham on the understanding that she was a he. She’s got a boy’s name, don’t she? So they’re probably thinkin’ she was up to some shenanigans in getting the job. Problem is...she’s got a five-year contract.”

“And?”

“And I don’t think she’s of a mind t’ give up an’ go home just cuz they tell her to.” He nodded in Dr. Havisham’s direction. “An’ she’s not likely to give in anytime soon. Not with a signed agreement. Don’t know whether they’ve thought of that. Seems to me, she prob’ly has the law on her side.”

Jonah winced at the thought. Then, knowing that there was no way around it, he swung his leg over the saddle and lowered himself to the ground. The pain that radiated through his body was enough to make him rethink the “no cussing” portion of his employment contract.

“Don’t s’pose there’s any way you could just go home an’ put yer feet up, is there?” Creakle asked once Jonah had managed to hold himself up under his own steam.

“No,” he grunted through clenched teeth.

Creakle grinned. “Then I’ll be leavin’ ye with my best wishes.” When the door to the hall opened and Dr. Havisham sailed out, Creakle added, “Yer gonna need it.”

* * *

Sumner didn’t need her ears to burn for her to know that Jonah Ramsey and the wizened Mr. Creakle had been talking about her. Their guilty looks were all the confirmation she required as she stepped outside.

“Evenin’ t’ ye, ma’am,” Creakle said—a vein of hidden mirth evident in his tone.

Before she could comment, he reined his mule in the opposite direction to the mine offices, pulling Mr. Ramsey’s horse behind him.

“Mr. Creakle won’t be joining us?” she murmured as the man disappeared.

“No. He’ll be needed at first light for the morning Devotional.”

“As will you,” she pointed out.

The man moved slowly, joining her on the boardwalk. In the lamplight that streamed from the hall windows, Sumner was able to see sharp lines of weariness bracketing his lips.

“True. But I’m used to an all-day shift, now and again.”

She wanted to point out that he’d had an all-day, all-night shift, but she feared that such a remark would allow a...personal note to enter into their conversation, and she supposed that wouldn’t be the wisest course of action.

“Shall we?” Jonah gestured to the office and she fell into step next to him.

She was surprised to find that, despite the rough-and-tumble surroundings, the boardwalk was wide and completely devoid of snow. The buildings—which had obviously been constructed with some haste—had been made to withstand the elements. On each building, a placard proclaimed the building’s purpose: Cook Shack, Barber Shop, Company Store. Bachelor Bottoms had the comforts of a real town, if in miniature.

However, the more she gazed around her, the more Sumner became aware of a lack of a feminine touch. There were no displays at the store, no curtains in the windows, no library, no schoolhouse—not that an all-male encampment would have children to educate. But it left an impression of starkness. Impermanence. As if the town knew that such austerity could not be tolerated for an extended amount of time.

“How long has the mine been here?” she asked.

“Seven years.”

She gaped at Mr. Ramsey. “Really? Everything looks so...new.”

Jonah nodded and she became aware of the way he moved with a gingerness that belied his powerful frame.

“The first five or six years...this was a tent city. Most of the buildings are less than a year old.”

“But how could you live here in the winter without some kind of shelter?” The air around her bit through her clothing and her breath hung in front of her face like a silver cloud. Why would anyone endure such conditions with only a tent for protection?

“I suppose a man can get used to anything if the job is right.”

She couldn’t prevent the way that her mouth gaped—and Mr. Ramsey must have taken exception to her disbelief because he said, “Most of the miners are immigrants from England, Scotland and Wales. There are some from Europe, and a few from the coal mines back east. All of them came here with empty pockets, hollow bellies or dreams for a better future. They can make twice at Batchwell Bottoms than they could at their old jobs. That’s a powerful incentive to any man.”

“And what was your incentive, Mr. Ramsey?”

He looked at her, meeting her gaze with an expression that was as fathomless as the shadows that surrounded them. In the light of the lanterns posted at intervals on the buildings they passed, she thought she saw a flash of pain, a loneliness. But just as quickly, the emotions were gone.

“That’s a conversation for another time.” His curt refusal set her firmly in her place. After all, she was a woman in a man’s world.

The unfairness of it all caused an old, familiar defensiveness to bubble up inside her.

She stopped him with a hand on his arm, then snatched it back again when he stared down at it.

“You don’t like me very much, do you, Mr. Ramsey?”

His gaze was impatient. “I haven’t formed an opinion one way or the other, Dr. Havisham. I haven’t had time.”

“But you don’t like the idea of a woman doctor in your town, do you?”

He considered his words before saying, “No, ma’am, I don’t.”

“Haven’t I demonstrated that I’m more than qualified?” She waved a hand in the direction of the Miners’ Hall. “I’m highly trained and good at what I do. Shouldn’t that be the only factor in my employment?”

“No.”

“And why not?”

“Because you’re a woman.”

“Obviously.”

“And as a woman, you’ll cause trouble.”

“Do you think me so lacking in self-control? Or is it your men who can’t keep themselves in line?”

He huffed, clearly unwilling to enter into her argument, but she refused to let him dodge it—a fact she made clear by refusing to budge until he answered her question.

“I don’t think you or my men are morally weak, Dr. Havisham. I’m merely being realistic. Men will be men, and women will be women.”

“Meaning what? That a woman must be, by definition, weak?”

“No. Meaning that a man and a woman cannot be together without certain...situations coming into play.”

She huffed softly.

“Then there’s the fact that, so far, your only doctoring has been on women. I’ve seen the correspondence you’ve had with the owners. All your experience was completed at a charity hospital in Bristol.”

“A fact that has little relevance.”

“It will have a great deal of relevance when the next injured miner refuses to let you treat him. And if that’s the case, what use are you to any of us?”

The words shivered in the cold, echoing into the darkness.

You’re just a girl.

“We shall see about that, Mr. Ramsey.”

He shook his head, pausing a few feet from the door of the office. “Look, you asked me what I thought, and I told you the truth. I’ve been at this mine from the moment the first stick of dynamite was lit and the first timbers were put into place. I know these men like I know my own family. There’s a reason why no women have been allowed on the premises, and those reasons aren’t going to change just because you managed to get a contract under false pretenses.”

“False pretenses!”

“It’s pretty obvious that you misled the owners, falsifying your credentials—”

“My credentials are in perfect order!”

“Then falsifying your name. Come on, Dr. Havisham. Admit it. Your Christian name couldn’t possibly be ‘Sumner.’”

Indignation bubbled up in her chest so strongly that Sumner couldn’t prevent the words from spilling free. “For your information, at my christening, I was named Sumner Edmund Havisham. S-u-m-n-e-r. My father wanted his first son to be named after his father. So when I arrived, and my mother died soon thereafter, he was too disheartened to bother changing his mind.”

The words reverberated in the darkness, revealing far more than she’d ever intended. But now that they were uttered, she couldn’t withdraw them.

“Dr. Havisham, I presume.”

The stern voice came from a spot behind her, and when she turned, Sumner found the grim countenance of Ezra Batchwell regarding her from the open door of the office. She recognized his balding pate and dark curly hair from an article called “Entrepreneurs of the American West” in the Christian Observer, the same periodical which had drawn her to this remote place.

“I believe this conversation would be more suited to the privacy of our offices rather than the street, don’t you?”

Just when she’d hoped to impress the men of Bachelor Bottoms with her strength and dignity, she’d been caught hollering in the dark like a fishwife.

She thought she saw Jonah Ramsey’s lips twitch in amusement—and in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to stamp her foot in frustration. But that would never do. Not if she hoped to repair the damage she’d already done.

“After you, Miss Havisham,” Jonah drawled, sweeping a hand in front of him to indicate that she should enter first.

“Doctor,” she reminded him.

“Dr. Havisham,” he corrected himself.

But he wasn’t able to completely stifle his amusement at her plight.