Bushedwhacked Bride (35 page)

Cole slowly shook his head. “So, you claim you come
from a time of numbers. I come from a time of names. I
reckon I like my time better.”

Her expression turned wistful. “You know, Cole, you may be smarter than I thought. But you still don’t believe
me about being from another time, do you?”

He slowly shook his head.

She clutched his hands and spoke passionately. “Cole, I wish you would open up your mind just a little.”

“Open my mind to something that makes no sense?”

“But it
does
make sense,” she argued. “Even now, here,
as we stand, the seeds of the twentieth century, of modern technology, are being planted.”

“How so?”

“Well, the telegraph has been in existence for decades.
Edison
has already invented the light bulb. Unless my history fails me, working models of airplanes have al
ready been flown, and even now the first prototypes of
automobiles using the Daimler internal combustion en
gine are in the works. Surely you’re familiar with such
developments?”

He shrugged. “I read an occasional newspaper.”

“Why is it so difficult for you to believe that these in
ventions will be further developed and enhanced? One
day we’ll have jet airplanes soaring across the skies, car
rying people across countries and continents. We’ll have
automobiles taking people about their daily tasks, and rockets flying astronauts to the moon. Where now, peo
ple’s voices can travel far distances, soon their images
will be flashed across the airways, as well, though the
magic of television. We’ll be entertained by motion pic
tures, gorgeous images dancing across huge screens to
the accompaniment of incredibly authentic sound. Fantastic machines called computers will provide information, and link the world together. And soon, visionaries
such as H. G. Wells will write about this marvelous world
to come.”

Cole whistled. “You have quite an imagination, sugar.”

“Cole, it’s all true.”

“If it’s true, it sounds like a plumb haywire world to me.”

She smiled. “It is a very complicated world, and this world is simpler, more genteel in some ways. Still, there are some marvelous discoveries coming in the future— like miracle drugs and vaccines that can wipe out common illnesses that kill scores of people in these times.”

He hauled her close. “Hush now. I’ve heard enough. I
don’t like the world you describe—a world of machines
and numbers. I like my world of people—and names. Like
your name. Like
Jessie.
I like you saying
my
name when
we’re alone.”

“Cole,”
she whispered.

He smiled, reaching out to touch the tip of her nose
with his index finger. “But you know, I think Miss Jessie
has been pulling Mr. Cole’s leg.”

“I haven’t,” she insisted.

He nodded toward the four-poster bed with its blue vel
vet counterpane. “And she’s about to get her comeup
pance.”

Jessica grinned and curled her arms around Cole’s
neck. “Now,
that
she’s counting on.”

“Then maybe Miss Jessie is smart enough to explain somethin’ to me,” he went on teasingly.

“Yes?”

“How come I had to rent two beds, when we’ll only be
using one?”

Jessica laughed. “Well, we could try your bed for vari
ety.”

Cole grinned. “Now you’re talking.”

***

It was early afternoon by the time Cole and Jessica, well
sated and freshly groomed, emerged from her room. Downstairs at the desk, they inquired about newspapers
in town, and the clerk told them of several, including the
Little London Times,
the
Colorado Springs Daily Chronicle,
and the
Republic.
Since the
Times
and the
Chronicle
weren’t far from the hotel, they decided to walk to both
offices.

They stopped first at the tiny
Times
office on
Pikes
Peak Avenue
, only to find the front door locked. Even as
they were turning away, a voice with a cultured British
accent inquired, “May I help you, madam, sir?”

Jessica turned to see a tall, slender, elegantly dressed
gentleman approaching them. “Yes—do you work here at
the
Times?”

“Indeed, I do. I’m the editor, William Sackett, just re
turning from luncheon.”

Jessica offered her hand. “I’m Jessica Garrett and this
is my cousin, Mr. Clay Lively.”

Sackett shook Jessica’s hand, then Cole’s. “What can I do for you?”

Cole answered, “We were hoping you might spare a
few minutes for us, sir.”

“For what purpose?”

Jessica and Cole glanced at each other; then she
replied, “To discuss Elijah Miser.”

The man’s face lit up. “Ah, Elijah. Funny you should
mention him, as he’s one of my favorite people. Indeed, I
just had a delightful lunch with him and several other
friends at the El Paso Club. If you’re here to give a testi
monial to Elijah, I’m ready to record it.”

Half-panicked at this pronouncement, Jessica glanced
at Cole, and he spoke to Sackett. “Actually, sir, that won’t
be necessary. We’re sorry to have wasted your time.”

And he pulled Jessica away with him, leaving Sackett
to stare after them in puzzlement.

“Don’t you think you were a little abrupt?” Jessica
asked.

Cole sighed. “No sense wasting our time if he’s
Miser’s best friend. If we’d told him more, he might have
warned Miser.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Jessica agreed wearily. “I
hope we’ll have better luck next time.”

Their next stop was at the
Colorado Springs Daily
Chronicle
office, obviously a much more substantial en
terprise, ensconced in a two-story white frame building
on
Platte Avenue
. As they stepped inside the front office,
Jessica marveled at the quaint setup—the old-fashioned
printing press thrumming away, the clerks scurrying
about with papers.

A named-looking man looked up at Jessica and Cole
from the front desk. “Yes?”

Jessica answered, “We’d like to speak with your editor.”

“Mr. Battle. At the back.”

They wended their way through the clutter, pausing be
fore the desk of a rotund, balding man in a striped brown
suit; he was peering through his thick spectacles at a
typewritten article.

“Are you Mr. Battle?” Jessica asked.

Startled, the man struggled to his feet. “Yes, ma’am.”

Jessica offered her hand. “I’m Jessica Garrett and this
is my cousin, Mr. Lively. We’re visiting from Mariposa.”

“I see.”
Battle
shook hands with Jessica, then Cole.
“What may I do for you folks?”

Jessica flashed her most ingratiating smile. “Do you
have a few moments to chat with us?”

The man hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. “Yes, but
only a few. Please, have a seat and state your business.”

After all three were seated, Jessica offered her most winning smile. “First, I have a question for you.”

“Very well.”

“What is your opinion of Elijah Miser?”

The man’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. “Why do you
ask?”

Cole answered, “Let’s just say we’ve had dealings with
Miser and we don’t cotton to him. What about you, sir?”

Battle
frowned for a long moment. “Though I’ll deny
this if you ever try to quote me, I think the man is a
scoundrel. I’ve lost patience with him due to his attempts
to influence the
Chronicle's
editorial policy. Mostly, I try
to steer clear of him and his cutthroat associates on the consortium board.”

Jessica and Cole exchanged a relieved look.

“At any rate, folks, I’ve a deadline here. Please tell me
why you’re here.”

“Very well.” Leaning toward him, Jessica confided, “I
thought the
Chronicle
might be interested in hearing about conditions
at the mines Miser and his cronies own near Mariposa.”

“You mean the Aspen Gulch Mines?”

“Yes,” Jessica replied. “Miser’s been victimizing the citizens of Mariposa for far too long, through deplorable
conditions at the mines. And surely, given your feelings
about the man, you’ll want to write an expose on him.”

Battle
whistled. “Wait a minute, miss. You’re correct
that there is no love lost between Miser and me, but he’s
also a respected citizen of this town. Moreover,
Colorado
Springs
was built on mining. If I published such unsub
stantiated allegations as yours, I’d be tarred and feathered
and ridden out of town on a rail.”

“The allegations aren’t unsubstantiated,” Jessica argued. She gestured at Cole. “My cousin has lived in the
area much longer than I have. Mr. Lively, would you ex
plain to Mr. Battle what we mean?”

Cole gave a brief history of the mines, including the various cave-ins over the years and the alarming conditions now. He described his recent visit to the eastern branch. “That hillside is ready for a major collapse,” he
concluded.

Battle
tapped a pencil and scowled. “Perhaps what you
tell me is true. But you still haven’t explained why I
should publish something about this.”

“How about so a bully will be set in his place?” Jessica
demanded. “And so you won’t have the deaths of dozens
of miners on your conscience?”

Battle
groaned. “Miss, please.”

“And you must know Miser is planning to run for
U.S.
senator,” Jessica continued irately. “As a citizen of this state, do you really think he should be representing us?”

Though his expression was troubled,
Battle
slowly
shook his head. “I see your point, and I want to help you.
I’m just not sure I can.”

Jessica surged to her feet. “Very, well, then. Mr. Lively
and I will visit every newspaper in this town until someone does help us.”

Battle
sighed. “Pardon me, miss, but you’ll be wasting
your time. Miser has Will Sackett of the
Times
in his back
pocket, and I doubt the
Republic
will give you the time of
day, either. For that matter, don’t count on
anyone
in the
Springs daring to cross Miser.”

Jessica’s chin shot up. “Really? Then I’ll go to the
Rocky Mountain News
or
The Denver Post,
and get one of
them to write an expose—beginning with the fact that
your cowardly publication tried to bury the truth.”

That barb met its mark. Red-faced,
Battle
surged to his
feet. “Young woman, this is blackmail. You have no right
whatsoever to try to intimidate me. Though I’m sympa
thetic to your cause, I’m in no position to help. Threats
will get you nowhere.”

Jessica faced him down. “Oh, really? I predict my
threats will get me into print.”

Battle
glared at her, and when she didn’t back down, he
waved a hand wearily. “Please, miss, sit back down.”

Jessica sat down and grinned.
Battle
followed suit,
rolling his eyes at Cole. “Is your cousin always so obsti
nate?”

“Oh, yes,” he confirmed proudly.

Jessica continued earnestly. “Mr. Battle, I’m offering you a scoop. The information is going to be published,
one way or another. Why shouldn’t you be the first to
print the truth?”