A Vote of Confidence (9 page)

Gwen almost sputtered with indignation. What a question! Of course she wanted her town to flourish. But she didn’t believe
an outsider was the right person to make that happen. The mayor of Bethlehem Springs should be intimately acquainted with
the people who lived here.

“I believe in progress, Mr. McKinley, and I want prosperity for those who live here. But I don’t believe you know our town
well enough to make those things happen in the right way.”

“Sometimes an outsider can see things more clearly than those on the inside.”

Gwen felt heat rising in her cheeks. What gall! Had he no humility whatsoever? As if they needed him to rescue their town, the same way he’d wanted to rescue her when his motorcar
startled Shakespeare.

He smiled.

Was he laughing at her?

“Miss Arlington, I believe I have intruded on you and your family long enough.” He held out his empty glass to her. “I thank
you all for your hospitality.”

He
was
laughing at her. He must be, for only a blind man wouldn’t have seen how he’d angered her. She took the glass from his hand,
making certain their fingers did not touch.

Morgan rose from the chair and placed his hat on his head. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Arlington. Cleo.” He nodded
one last time at Gwen. “I look forward to further discussions about how we might improve Bethlehem Springs.” Then he turned
and walked away, disappearing through the gate a few moments later.

“A pleasant fellow,” her father said.

“Pleasant?” Gwen felt as if the veins in her temples might explode. “He was condescending and… and supercilious. Why, even
his churchgoing must be to help him win the election. Wasn’t this the first time he’s been to your services? Isn’t that what
you said? What a hypocrite. Doesn’t he know God won’t be mocked?”

“Gwennie,” Cleo said, “I think you’re being a bit hard on the man. You don’t know that’s why he came to church. You don’t
want to be judging him unfairly.”

Gwen looked from her sister to their father and back again. Had Morgan McKinley won them over so easily? Her own family! Well,
she wasn’t so easily swayed. And if he’d thought this would make her rethink her own candidacy, he was in for a rude awakening.

Harrison Carter folded the morning’s newspaper and placed it on the table next to his breakfast plate. What he wouldn’t like
to say to Nathan Patterson about this edition!

“Susannah?” He looked toward the opposite end of the table. “Is everything in readiness for tonight’s supper party?”

“Yes, Harrison. Of course it is.”

He had not expected otherwise. His wife was the epitome of efficiency. Thirteen years his junior, Susannah had been groomed
for marriage to a man of his station. Trained by her mother to properly manage her husband’s household, to serve as the perfect
hostess, and to bear and raise his children while doing everything in her power to please him, she was genteel, compliant,
and attractive. Everything a wife should be.

Harrison pushed his chair back from the table and stood. “I’ll be home in time to change before our guests arrive.” He picked
up the newspaper, then strode to her end of the table and leaned down to kiss the cheek she turned to him.

The Harrison Carters owned the largest home in Bethlehem Springs. It was built by a man made rich in the Idaho gold rush fifty
years earlier; Harrison had purchased the three-story mansion for a song after the owner lost his fortune in the financial
panic of 1893. Some men were fools — and he was glad of it. He often profited from the mistakes of others.

When he stepped out his front doorway a short while later, Harrison found his automobile and driver waiting for him. The drive
to his office took only a matter of minutes, but it afforded him another chance to peruse the newspaper.

“Why They Are Running for Mayor
,
” the headline blared. Beneath it were three articles, written by the candidates, about what they hoped to accomplish if elected.

Hiram Tattersall, as could be expected, came off sounding like the buffoon he was. Gwen Arlington’s piece was articulate and
insightful. Unfortunately, so was Morgan McKinley’s.

His eyes narrowed as he folded the paper once again. Two things were needed. First, he must convince Tattersall to withdraw.
He didn’t want him taking even one vote away from Harrison’s chosen candidate. Second, he needed to discover — or manufacture,
if necessary — something that would discredit McKinley. The second would be more difficult than the first, especially since
the election wasn’t that far off.

The motorcar rolled to a stop on Main in front of the law office. The driver was quick to get out and open the door for his
employer.

“Be ready to take me home at five-thirty,” Harrison said as he disembarked.

“Yes, sir.”

He glanced up at the sign on the building.
Harrison Carter
,
Attorney-at-Law
. What the sign did not say was that Harrison was an ambitious man who knew what he wanted. And that once he knew, he went
after it.

What he wanted now was that land McKinley had purchased just weeks before Harrison received confirmation — confidential confirmation — that there was a wealth of gold hidden in the mountains to the north of town. If he’d known anyone else had
been interested in purchasing the land, he would have made an offer sooner. But he hadn’t known.

It wasn’t right that someone like McKinley could sweep in here and take what Harrison had meant to be his. And somehow he
must persuade McKinley this wasn’t the right place for him after all.

Standing outside the main lodge at the resort, Fagan Doyle slapped the newspaper against his thigh and laughed. “Boy-oh, I’m
thinkin’ you’ll have no easy win over Miss Arlington.”

Morgan nodded his agreement. He too had been impressed with Gwen’s article in that morning’s
Daily Herald.
It revealed intelligence and integrity, as well as her heart. It should give her an edge at the ballot box.

Not liking the direction of his thoughts, he cleared his throat. “Bring me up to date on the construction. Anything particular
I should know?”

Fagan’s grin disappeared. “Sure, and there is one thing you should know.” He jerked his head to the right, then turned in
that direction.

Morgan fell into step beside him.

“I don’t know when it happened. When everyone’s workin’, it makes for a racket. All the hammerin’ and such. Still, ’tis hard
to believe we never heard a thing.”

“Heard what?”

Just as Morgan asked that question, they reached one of the larger storage sheds — the one holding the window glass that had
arrived by freight wagon two weeks earlier. Fagan yanked open the door. Morgan stepped inside and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. When they did, he felt his stomach sink. Shattered
glass lay everywhere.

“Not a whole pane left amongst ’em,” Fagan said.

Morgan stepped deeper into the shed. Glass crunched under his shoes.

Who did this? Is it related to what happened up at the dam?

As if reading his mind, Fagan said, “Young boys up to a bit of mischief, I’m thinkin’. The shed door wasn’t locked, though
I promise it will be from here on in.”

Morgan drew a deep breath as he turned to face his friend. “I’ll order more windows as soon as I’m back to town.” He stepped
outside into the sunlight. “In the meantime, we’d better hire some guards with dogs to help patrol the site.”

“Aye .”

It wasn’t the cost of replacing the glass that bothered Morgan nearly as much as the time it would cost them. Each delay piled
on top of another. Sometimes it felt to him as if the resort would never be completed.

The two men headed back toward the lodge.

“Did I make a mistake, Fagan?”

“What mistake would that be?”

Morgan rubbed his forehead. “Believing I should build this resort in Idaho where I don’t know anyone. Right now it seems like
the whole world is working against us.”

“ ‘Fagan,’ me blessed mother used to say, ‘don’t be bangin’ your shin against a stool that isn’t there.’ ” He raised an eyebrow.
“God almighty has spoken to your heart, Morgan McKinley. So you’ve told me and so I believe. Quit doubtin’ yourself. ’Tis
not like you.”

His friend was right. It wasn’t like him. Morgan usually had an abundance of confidence. Maybe the frustrations of the past few weeks had cracked his self-assurance. Or maybe he just
needed a few good nights of sleep. He hadn’t slept well since moving to town.

The two men completed a survey of the lodge, the bathhouse, and the pools. Morgan made some notes to himself, including one
about another visit to the municipal building to inquire again about land-use permits, variances, and options to buy.

An hour later, his business finished, he mounted his horse and rode toward Bethlehem Springs. He let the gelding have its
head while his thoughts continued to churn and tumble, while he worried and fretted about construction delays and vandalism
and manpower and mounting costs.

But eventually the calm of the forest that surrounded him seeped into his consciousness. He reined in, bringing the horse
to a standstill, and stared at the towering pines that swayed and whispered in a gentle breeze.

Then shall the trees of the wood sing out at the presence of the Lord
,
because he cometh to judge the earth. O give thanks unto the L
ORD
;
for he is good
;
for his mercy endures forever.

He drew a deep breath and released it slowly, the tension going with it. “Your mercy endures forever.”

A Steller’s jay swooped across the road only a few feet in front of him, causing the horse to sidestep and toss his head.
The bird landed on a branch of a nearby ponderosa pine. A moment later, it was joined by another, their dark-blue feathers
in striking contrast to the yellow-green of the pine tree’s needles.

Then shall the trees of the wood sing out at the presence of the Lord!

Morgan nudged the gelding’s sides with his heels and started down the road once again.

The delays in construction were irritating but not critical. Replacing the window glass would take both time and money, but
not an insurmountable sum of either. He needed to relax and trust God. Keep the faith, as Fagan always told him.

“Hey, Morgan!”

At the sound of his name, he looked around. There came Cleo Arlington, cantering her black and white pinto across the bridge.
He stopped and waited for her, greeting her with a touch of his fingers to hat brim.

“Did your automobile break down?” she asked as she drew near, slowing her horse to a walk, then to a stop.

“No. The car is fine. My horse needed exercise so I decided to ride him up to the resort.”

“You headed back to town now?”

“Yes.”

“Mind some company?”

“Of course not.”

“Dad and I enjoyed visiting with you last Sunday.”

He’d bet money her sister wouldn’t say the same.

“One of our ranch hands brought the newspaper back from town earlier today. Seems to me you and Gwennie think more alike than
you do different.”

The horses moved forward in unison.

Morgan chuckled. “Maybe that’s why she seemed so smart to me when I read her piece.”

“Could be. Sure could be.” She gave him a hard stare, but her smile remained broad. “Know what, Morgan? If it weren’t for
Gwennie, you’d have my vote. That is, if I could vote in the town’s elections, which I can’t.”

“Thanks anyway, Cleo. It’s kind of you to say so.”

“Pity you’ll have to lose to my sister.”

“What makes you so sure I’ll lose?”

“Some things a gal just knows. Especially when her twin’s involved. It’s a kind of special connection we’ve got.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I heard you’re twins, but it’s a bit hard to believe.”

“Don’t I know it. My gorgeous sister, as pretty and ladylike and genteel as you please.” She dropped the reins onto her horse’s
neck and held out her hands, palms up, then shrugged. “And me.”

He immediately regretted what he’d said. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Cleo’s feelings. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean
— ”

“Easy, Morgan. My hide isn’t that thin. The boys at the ranch would have me for breakfast if it was.” She shrugged again.
“I am what I am, just what the good Lord made me. That suits me fine.”

She pulled a watch from her pocket, then released a whistle. “I’d better get me a move on. I promised Gwennie I’d help her
get ready for the shindig Carter’s putting on for her. Guess you knew he’s supporting her candidacy.”

Morgan went still at the name. What was Harrison Carter’s interest in Gwen? Was he courting her? Or was he just trying to
keep Morgan from winning?

“If Gwen’s elected mayor, those two will be working together plenty, so it’s good he believes in her. And I guess there isn’t
anybody in town who’s got more pull than Carter. Lots of folks turn to him for advice, him being a lawyer and all.”

Morgan made a sound to let Cleo know he was listening, but in his mind he imagined Harrison with Gwen. A disturbing image.