Ana Seymour (11 page)

“Don’t be foolish, Jennie,” he said in a calmer tone. “You’re a bright, educated woman. You don’t need to do this. Let me help you—just until your sister’s out of the hospital.”

“Until my sister comes home with her illegitimate baby, you mean. At which time the town denizens will probably try to shut down our boardinghouse again and we’ll be in a worse coil than ever.”

“Let me help you until we can work out another solution, then.”

Jennie folded the torn paper. The flyer was ruined anyway. And the truth was, while it would not be bad to do cleaning for Dr. Millard, she hated the idea of taking that kind of position with people who already thought she was lower than they. “What other solution, Carter?” she asked, her voice depressed.

“Well, for one thing I’ve reviewed the laws and I think we can get you permission to keep the miners at your house, not as a business, but as a ‘multiple residence.’ And then we can find you the fourth boarder you need.”

“I may need that room soon. Kate and I could room together, but with the baby and all…”

He waved his hand. “That’s a ways off yet. We’re talking immediate solutions.”

His tone had become lawyerly and bossy, and it made Jennie tired. She’d had enough lectures for one day. “Carter,” she said, interrupting him. “I appreciate your concern. I’ll think about this some more before I decide on the maid position. But now, if you don’t mind, I should be getting home before Barnaby starts to worry about where I am.”

Carter wanted to continue with his suggestions. It was easier making them than it was dwelling on the fact that his behavior had partially served to put her in the bind she was in. But she looked on the verge of tears. It made something well up inside him beyond the indignation he’d felt when he thought about her working as a maid. It was a mixture of protectiveness and some emotion that he didn’t recognize as ever having felt before.

The words slipped from his mouth, “Go home, sweetheart We’ll talk about this later. I’ll help you figure it out.”

The tears that had been at the base of Jennie’s throat all afternoon glazed her eyes. It was that word again.
Sweetheart.
It made her start to lose her hardfought battle for control. She blinked furiously. “Thanks anyway, Carter, but I can figure things out for myself,” she said, and then turned to hurry up the street before the drops could spill on to her cheeks.

“Twenty dollars? Twenty dollars a
week?
” Jennie stared at the three miners as if they had indeed suddenly sprouted feet of silver.

“They don’t care about money, Miss Jennie. Those mine owners have more than they know what to do with. You should see some of the mansions they’ve built over in Virginia City.”

“But I can hardly believe they would pay someone twenty dollars a week just to cook dinner once a day.”

“Dinner for forty hungry men,” Brad clarified.

“Who eat like a pack of wolves after a long winter,” Smitty added.

“And don’t smell much better,” Dennis concluded.

Jennie laughed. “Whose idea was this? How did you know I was going to town today to look for work.” They were sitting around the supper table, drinking coffee while Barnaby cleared the dishes and brought out huge servings of crusty peach pie that lopped over the sides of Francis Sheridan’s dainty china plates. Jennie already knew how miners ate.

“We didn’t,” Dennis explained. “But we knew that you’d been worried about finding another boarder, and when the Greaser up and quit after his brother struck it rich down by Elko, we thought, maybe Miss Jennie could come out here every noon and do this.”

“You’re a sight better cook than the Greaser,” Brad said.

Smitty added, “Amen to that.”

Jennie could hardly believe it. Twenty dollars a week. It would solve all her problems, or at least all the ones that had to do with money. “The Greaser?” she asked.

“Our cook,” Dennis explained. “Greaser Johnson. He left yesterday before the noon meal, and the foreman
nearly had a mutiny on his hands. They need to get a replacement quick.”

“But I imagine they expect to hire a
man,
” Jennie said, not wanting to get too hopeful, but already making calculations as to exactly how many of her bills she could pay with twenty dollars a week.

“I imagine they do,” Dennis agreed with a shrug and a grin. “But once we three tell the others about the kind of fare you’ve been giving us these past few weeks, they won’t settle for another Greaser. They’ll want you.”

“We could just pack up some of this pie to hand around tomorrow morning,” Brad said, shoveling a bite into his mouth. “That’ll do the trick.”

Jennie’s pie was untouched. “You don’t think the owners would be upset about a woman being there…I mean, there aren’t any other women up at the mines, are there?”

“No, ma’am,” Dennis answered. “But you wouldn’t be alone. You’d have the three of us for kind of guards—what’s that French word?”

“Chaperons?”

“Yeah. We’d be your chap-erons.”

“We’d take care of you, Miss Jennie,” Smitty added.

Jennie looked around at their three eager faces. They made quite a trio, big, jovial Dennis, then medium-sized Brad and finally the tiny Smitty, who didn’t seem brawny enough to be a miner. She felt a wave of affection for each of them.

“Well, how can I refuse the offer of such gallant gentlemen?” she asked, smiling back at each in turn.
“I’ll go up with you tomorrow morning after breakfast and apply for the job.”

“Oh, you’ll get the job, Miss Jennie. We’ll see to that,” Dennis said firmly. “You just pack up your apron and that little recipe book of yours and plan to stay until the meal. We’ll arrange for someone to bring you back home when it’s finished so you can get your own work done here.”

“Why, it’s just the perfect solution,” Jennie said happily, pushing back her chair.

“Yes, it is,” Dennis agreed. Then he leaned forward and picked up her plate of pie. “If you’re not going to eat this, little lady, can I have it?”

It had only taken the foreman of the Longley mine a few minutes to decide that he should take the unprecedented step of hiring a woman to do his midday cooking. The mine provided the big noon meal for the miners as part of their pay. For breakfast and supper they fended for themselves, which, in the case of the men who had less agreeable habitation than the three Sheridan silverheels, meant that they came to lunch at the long pine tables ravenous. The foreman had had two days of trying to get the food prepared himself, and was more than happy not to have to endure the men’s complaints a third noon hour.

Of course, his decision had been helped along by the fact that the three silverheels had lined up a contingent of almost half the workers backing their choice of Jennie as the new cook. Against those odds, the foreman had really had little choice.

Jennie had made a quick assessment of the mine’s
makeshift kitchen and rather haphazard larder and had thrown together a stew hearty enough to make dead men walk. She served it along with fluffy biscuits and a rice pudding for dessert. The promised pie would have to wait until she had time to cut up that much fruit. But for a hasty first day, the result was more than satisfactory, as evidenced by the compliments and grateful looks of the miners as they cleaned up plate after plate.

One of the men was assigned to clean-up duty, so once the food was served and cleared, Jennie’s duties were over. Dennis had been given permission to take her down the mountain in one of the mine wagons each day. In the morning they made the forty-fiveminute climb up to the site on foot.

As she finished up her first day, she thought of the apples in her larder. She’d cut them up tonight after supper and bring them with her tomorrow to make apple pies. It would all take a bit of organizing, but she was sure it could be done so that everything would fit into her schedule. She hummed a little as Dennis drove her away from the camp. It was a beautiful late fall day and she felt as if perhaps things were finally going her way for a change.

The mood lasted until they turned into Elm Street and saw Carter sitting on the front stairs of her house, tapping his hat impatiently in his hand.

“Where have you two been off to?” he yelled as the mine wagon approached her front sidewalk.

“We’ve been up to the mine. Miss Jennie’s going to—” Dennis stopped in midsentence with an “oof” as Jennie knocked an elbow rather firmly into his
stout side. “We’ve been up to the mine,” he concluded lamely.

“Nice morning for a drive,” Jennie said firmly. She’d done some thinking about her new position as she’d kneaded the biscuit dough this morning. The miners all seemed to accept her presence without question. They’d been unfailingly polite, even sweet. But she wasn’t so sure what the reaction of the town would be when they discovered that she was going up there every day by herself to work all alone among a group of brawny men. She suspected it would just fuel anew the furor over the wanton Sheridan sisters.

And Carter was the last one she wanted to know. After his reaction yesterday to her attempt to hire out as a maid, she couldn’t imagine what his reaction would be to her new job. He’d probably find some kind of regulation against it, she thought with a sniff. Anyway, it was none of his business.

“You went for a drive up to the mine?” he asked, perplexed.

Jennie nodded. Carter had stood up from the porch stairs and was coming toward her, but she didn’t wait for him to reach her before she jumped down from the wagon without assistance. “The silverheels gave me a little tour. It was quite interesting. Thank you, Dennis,” she added, smiling up at her escort.

He tipped his hat and winked at her. “It was a pleasure, Miss Jennie. Let me know when you want another tour.”

“I will.” She waved as he signaled to the horses and the wagon pulled away.

Carter stood behind her, waiting. After the mine wagon had turned the corner and disappeared, he said softly, “Now, Jennie. Tell me what you were
really
doing this morning.”

H
e’d wanted to come last night, but he’d sensed after their encounter in town in front of the doctor’s office that Jennie had a tenuous grip on emotions stretched to a dangerous limit, and he hadn’t wanted to push her. Also, night was a dangerous time. They’d already discovered that. He wasn’t too sure about his own grip on things when he was around her after dark.

So he’d come over after lunch today. His plan was to offer to help her go over her books and set figures on exactly how much she’d need. Then in the course of the calculations, he’d once again make an offer to supplement her income, at least until the hospital was paid off. He didn’t have a lot of savings, but his prosecutor’s salary was generous and, as a single man with no obligations, he spent little of it.

But he’d arrived to find the house empty and Barnaby, who’d run home during the school lunch recess, had been oddly evasive about where Jennie might be. So he’d decided to wait.

Now he was more mystified than ever. As far as
he knew there was only one kind of woman who ever went up to the mines. And they went up there for only one thing. In a way, it was the same thing Jennie was trying to do—make money. But it was too absurd to even think that Jennie would be that desperate. Although, she had been willing to hire out as a maid, which in some circles might be put in the same category as those women from Tinkersville who’d head out to the mines every payday.

“I fail to see that it’s any of your business how I spend my mornings,” she answered, turning up the path toward the house.

He grasped her shoulder and spun her back around. “Damn it, Jennie. When are you going to let down some of that stubborn pride of yours and let me help you? What were you doing with Dennis? Surely the mine doesn’t need
cleaning?
”

She pulled out of his grasp and rubbed her shoulder where his hand had been, though he was sure he hadn’t been rough. “You might try seeing how proud you’d be, Mr. Jones, if you’d been shunned and called ugly names by half the townsfolk.”

Carter hesitated. Yes, he understood that kind of pride. He’d already had a lifetime’s share of ugly taunts. His voice more calm, he said, “Those people aren’t worth getting upset over, Jennie. Believe me, you have to learn to pay no attention to people who are that ignorant You need to toughen up that lovely soft skin of yours.”

He started to reach a hand toward her cheek as the personal remark slid them both back to the dangerous territory they’d traveled the night in Virginia City. It
seemed to keep happening. And Carter was darned if he could figure out if he welcomed it or dreaded it. Jennie’s response was less equivocal. Instant anger.

“What makes you such an authority on insults? Did you get some criticism on how well your shirts were pressed at that fancy school of yours?”

Carter sighed. “My life didn’t start at Harvard, Jennie. If you’d let down that guard of yours for a moment or two sometime, we might have a chance to discuss exactly how much I might know about insults.”

Suddenly the bravado disappeared and once again he saw the scared young woman who was doing her best to tackle a world that had not been particularly kind to her over the past year.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re absolutely right You’ve done nothing but offer to help me, and I always seem to end up railing at you.”

Carter smiled. “We do seem to set sparks off.”

“Perhaps we should just realize that we have conflicting temperaments, and leave it at that”

“Perhaps.” In Carter’s mind, it was the attraction that was causing their problems more than the conflict, but he refrained from saying so. Even now, irritated with her as he was, he could feel his body’s response to her. He had to shift his gaze away from the slight heaving of her full breasts.

Jennie offered a peacemaking smile and extended her hand. “So, thank you for your various offers of help, Carter, but I think I’ll be fine on my own.”

The breeze was picking up and he felt chill on the back of his neck, but she had a sheen of sweat at her
temple and along the line of her jaw. He tried to blink away the memory of kissing her there. “What about your financial problems? The hospital bills?”

“I’ll be able to manage.”

He frowned and said bluntly, “How?”

Jennie looked as if she were exerting control to keep from snapping at him, but her voice was pleasant. “Now, see. There we go again. Those conflicting personalities. You can’t seem to get this through your head. My financial problems are not the concern of you or any other man. In fact, I don’t intend that they ever will be.”

“I’m not trying to imply that you’re not capable—”

“Good,” she interrupted. “Because I am. And now, Carter, if you don’t mind, I’ve had a tiring day and I have yet to get the supper started.”

He had no choice but to let her go. He stood at the end of her walk until she’d disappeared inside the house, debating whether he should march after her and demand to know exactly what kind of tiring day she’d had, up there in the mountains. It was none of his business, she’d told him in so many words. Never would be. But it was driving him crazy.

Jennie giggled a little as she shut the door behind her. She’d seen the frustration on Carter’s face. He’d wanted to know what she was up to. There’d been that other kind of interest there, too. He’d had the same look she’d seen at the hotel in Virginia City. And she had to admit that it evoked a response somewhere low in her insides. But just because her body
had discovered these unruly sensations didn’t mean that she was about to begin letting a man interfere with her life.

She was perfectly capable of handling things on her own. Granted, it had been the miners’ help that had gotten her the lifesaving job at the mine, but it would be her hard work and skill that would make it successful.

With the energy of one who’s found a way around a huge obstacle in her path, she bustled around the kitchen, fixing chops and cabbage for the evening supper and starting to peel a barrelful of apples to take up to the mine tomorrow for pies.

When Barnaby came in from school, she enlisted his help. “It sure takes a lot of apples,” he said, perched on a stool to reach the kitchen counter.

“The men eat a lot, because they work so hard.”

“You work hard, too, Jennie, and you don’t eat a lot.”

In fact, she’d lost some weight over the past few months. Some of her clothes were sagging. “I eat my share. And I’m not as big as those men are.”

“You’re sure not as big as Dennis,” Barnaby said, and chuckled. “At school they’d call him a fatso.”

“Which would be quite unkind,” Jennie chided. “It’s never nice to call names, particularly ones that might hurt people’s sensitivities.”

“Their what?”

“Their feelings. It happens especially when you tease about things that are of special importance to people. Things that they feel deep down.”

Barnaby was silent for a long moment, then he said. “Like not having a father.”

“Yes. Or being fatter than others or not quite as smart.”

“I’m glad I’m not fat or dumb,” Barnaby said with youthful bluntness.

“Everyone has weaknesses in one area or another. The important thing is to be kind to all types of people.”

Barnaby nodded gravely. “They should tell that to the boys at school.”

“Yes, they should. The teacher should and their parents should, too.” The way some of the prominent adults around town had been acting, it was probably too much to hope that their children would be growing up to be any more tolerant

“So I’m not supposed to tell anyone that you’re cooking up at the mine?” Barnaby asked. Jennie had told Barnaby of her decision to keep her job secret.

“That’s right. It’ll be easier to keep it just between us.”

“And the silverheels won’t tell anyone?”

“No. You know they don’t talk much to the regular townsfolk here.”

“Did you tell Carter?”

“No.”

Barnaby looked surprised. “I thought you’d at least tell him.”

“Well…no. Why did you think that?”

“‘Cause he’s in love with you. Usually people tell each other things when they’re in love.” He stopped
and looked a little uncertain. “But maybe you’re not in love with him back.”

Jennie didn’t know whether her urge to laugh came from Barnaby’s attempt to sound worldly with such an adult topic or from her discomfort at his assertion. “Carter’s not in love with me,” she said firmly.

Barnaby finished peeling the last apple in the pile and sat back with a sigh of relief. “Yes, he is.”

Jennie hesitated at the absolute certainty in his voice. “Now you have to chop them,” she said, waving at the peeled apples. “Neat pieces about a half-inch thick. Why do you say that?”

Barnaby sat forward again and picked up the first apple. “Well, he looks at you all the time. I mean,
all
the time. And he looks at you the way Chauncy White looks at Susan Hardwick in the back row at school. And they’re
sweethearts.
”

Jennie took several furious chops at the apple she was holding, her eyes down. Finally she said, “Well, Carter and I are
not
sweethearts. I’m too busy to have a sweetheart.”

Barnaby shrugged. “If you say so.” He attacked his apple with careful precision, making each piece exactly the same size as the first. But after a full minute had passed, he looked directly up at her, his young eyes suddenly wise, and said simply, “I wonder if Carter knows that.”

The conversation with Barnaby stayed with Jennie the entire evening and into the next morning as she once again went up to the mine and prepared a huge
vat of scalloped potatoes and ham, which was sucked clean by the end of the appreciative miners’ meal.

She half expected to see Carter sitting on the steps again when Dennis brought her back home. She wouldn’t put it past him to check up on her. But the steps and house were empty. Perhaps he’d finally taken her at her word that she wanted to deal with her problems by herself.

Perversely, that thought made her a little sad. Make up your mind, Jennie, she berated herself. You either are going to stand on your own two feet or not. She’d already resolved not to risk getting involved with one of those males who are around when they need you but not when you need them. Just because a particular one of the species happened to have gray eyes that made her breath catch when they looked at her was no reason to change her opinion.

She went into the kitchen to deposit the heavy sack containing two large briskets she’d brought down from the mining camp. She intended to soak them overnight with some of the spices from her own kitchen. When she got used to her new schedule, she’d arrange to get help transporting some of her kitchen supplies and food up the mountain. The mine had its own larder, but it consisted of simple fare. Jennie looked forward to trying some of her favorite recipes on the men. They were so complimentary about the easy dishes she’d tried so far. She loved her job.

Perhaps she should tell Carter what she was doing, after all. It was a perfectly respectable employment. Except for the fact that she was working with all men,
she couldn’t see how the position could be criticized. And, at twenty dollars a week, she was probably making almost as much as Carter himself. That would steam a pleat or two out of his starchy shirts, she thought with a smile.

She thought about the matter all the while she prepared the briskets for soaking and whipped up a batter of potato pancakes to serve with the leftover chops for supper. Finally she reached a kind of compromise. She wouldn’t seek Carter out to tell him about her job, but if he questioned her on the subject again, she’d tell him the truth. It probably didn’t matter anyway, she thought, attempting an indifference she couldn’t entirely master. After the way she’d snapped at him yesterday, Carter wasn’t likely to seek her out, and with her busy schedule, she’d rarely get into town. She might never see the man again.

The silverheels had consumed a frightening quantity of potato pancakes and were in no hurry to move away from the table, so Barnaby ran to answer the knock at the front door. Jennie knew immediately who it would be. Her mother would have said that she’d
willed
him there.

“Hey, Jones—have you finally gotten your senses back?” Dennis greeted him. “Your room’s a-waitin’ upstairs. I can’t understand how you can sit down there in town and eat that hotel food while we’re feasting on these.” He pointed to the platter where one lonely potato pancake remained as the silverheels’ token tribute to table manners.

“I could make up some more in a minute,” Jennie offered.

Carter shook his head. “I’ve had supper, thanks. Though you’re right, Dennis, I’m sure it was nothing like yours.”

Jennie stood. “Have a seat. I’ll just help Barnaby bring out the puddings.”

“And then after supper you can join our game, just like old times,” Smitty suggested to Carter.

Carter looked around at the three miners, then at Jennie. “Ah…thank you,” he said, sitting down at an empty place. “I’d be obliged for the dessert, but then I…” He looked uncharacteristically ill at ease. “I was hoping to be able to speak with you, Jennie.”

“Come sparkin’, eh?” Dennis said with a wink.

Jennie almost dropped the plate she was carrying. From the doorway Barnaby grinned and mouthed to her, “Told you so.”

Without answering, she swung into the sanctuary of the kitchen. So he’d come after all. His curiosity had probably gotten the better of him. Well, she’d satisfy it. When the silverheels started their game, she and Carter could go into her office and she’d tell him all about her new employment. That should settle things. He wouldn’t have to feel guilty anymore about the lost rent money, and maybe then he’d leave her in peace.

She put the dishes of butterscotch pudding on a tray, wondering once again why everything suddenly seemed so much more
alive
when Carter Jones was in the vicinity.

“I told you he was sweet on you,” Barnaby said
in a stage whisper as he came swinging through the door with the last of the dishes. “You can go sit out on the front porch swing and moon over each other.”