Tall, Dark, and Determined (32 page)

But Chase knew for a fact that Braden Lyman refused to store explosives or any of their paraphernalia on site. Once they'd blasted the main tunnels into the side of the mountain, he'd shipped any remaining items back to the dealer. Lyman considered it an elementary safety precaution against blast-happy miners who might accidentally get people killed.

His common-sense approach was one of the reasons Chase agreed to work with Braden Lyman in the first place. Usually he steered clear of mining outfits. Whatever land they didn't strip bare, they blew up to get to the coal or silver ore. Miners were bad for the land and bad for business. Miracle Mining had been the best of the bunch. Their plans to build a town and capitalize on the railroad route offered assurance that they wouldn't carelessly destroy the surrounding countryside.

For this reason, Chase signed on to walk them over their land, explain its basic features and the way one area connected to the other, and suggest the best site for Hope Falls itself. They'd needed help determining a spot close enough to be productive, but far enough away so the town wouldn't be affected if and when they needed to blast their way farther in.

And Lyman's point-blank refusal to overuse blasting powder or even keep it on hand had been typical of the outfit. His partner protested, but Lyman maintained he could always order more if need be—their train access made short work of waiting.

Which was why Chase found it so hard to believe the story he'd heard about a blasting accident bringing down the mountain. Lyman hired surveyors to gauge the rock and engineers to design custom supports at intervals along every tunnel they made.

The man did everything right—so it shouldn't have gone wrong. If Miracle Mining had been a two-bit operation with shaky methods, Chase wouldn't have recommended Laura's husband for a job. He'd put his faith in Braden Lyman's company and lost his family. Now Chase needed to prove he hadn't misjudged the outfit. Then he could find justice for the men who'd died.

But instead of investigating, he had to deal with the daft woman who'd decided to give
his dog a bath
. His anger over her presumption, and the difficulty it would cause, paled in comparison to his rage over the time her foolishness cost him.

Chase controlled his temper by not talking. The rest of today and tomorrow morning would be given to butchering the elk, but its size bought him a day without needing to make a kill.

Tomorrow I hunt the real prey of Hope Falls. The thought calmed him. But today I take Miss Lyman down a peg
.

    TWENTY-SIX    

O
ops
. Lacey didn't quite know how to regain control of the situation. Bathing Decoy had been a wonderful idea—thankfully, his enthusiasm for playing in the water kept him in place through the prolonged ordeal.
If only Dunstan didn't come looking for us
. Lacey caught the thought and sternly stopped it. The only things “if only” ever applied to were things that hadn't happened and most likely never would.
Useless things
.

But the man's timing proved
most
unfortunate. Lacey would not have chosen for him to ruin the surprise and certainly would rather have kept the mistake with the soap between just her and the girls. Mr. Dunstan looked as though he'd taken it well enough. He stood there, somehow taller than he'd seemed indoors, casting dark looks when the others didn't notice.

Dark looks, Lacey could handle.
Particularly when they're dark
good
looks
. This time she didn't even try to catch the wayward thought. She kept busy sneaking her own looks his way.

Since coming to Hope Falls, Lacey accepted that proprieties couldn't always be observed. She accepted minor lapses not only for the sake of necessity, but also because it gave the women a bit more leeway than they could enjoy in an established town.

If she hadn't quite become accustomed to seeing men in their shirtsleeves, at least the experience wasn't new. Some of the workmen would either forgo or forget their waistcoats when they showed up for the midday meal. On long, hot days Lacey understood this to be common practice, and thus, unremarkable.

But there was nothing common about Chase Dunstan. Framed by the sunlight, he sported no jacket and no waistcoat—although Lacey had never seen him wear one. The tan trousers of hard-wearing canvas and his worn boots were familiar, if drenched.

The cambric shirt, striped by his suspenders, wasn't familiar in the least. He'd rolled up his sleeves. The futile attempt to remain dry exposed strong forearms sprinkled with dark hair. Decoy's exuberant splashing soaked into the once-white fabric up to Dunstan's shoulders. The fabric molded to those remarkably broad shoulders and an extremely solid chest. He'd left the top button undone, leaving his collar to gape open. Lacey was transfixed to discover a smattering of the same dark hair peeking just above the next button.

Who knew men had fur?
And as far as she could see, he looked to be the same sun-kissed gold as his forearms. She tried to look away but found her thoughts running rampant.
Does Dunstan go without his shirt during those long walks in the woods?

“You know better.” His rumbling chastisement jerked her attention back to his face. Dunstan did not look amused.

Did he catch me ogling?
The possibility mortified her. Lacey felt the telltale heat in her cheeks.
No! I can't blush! He'll see it as a sign of guilt
. Which, of course, it was.

“I'm sure I don't know what you mean.”
I hope I don't
.

His scowl deepened, and he crossed his arms over his chest, mercifully blocking the distracting view. “Don't play games, Miss Lyman. You had no right to try to change my dog.”

“Excuse me?” It sounded like he was talking about the way she took initiative to clean his dog. Not … anything else.

“You shouldn't have taken him from the store at all.” Dunstan rolled his shoulders, the movement shifting the collar of his shirt. A second button slipped its mooring, she noticed.

Lacey blinked. Now was not the time to notice such things. She blinked again. A lady
never
noticed such things!
Although
, a small, utterly inappropriate voice mused,
perhaps that's because ladies are never confronted with them in the first place?

“I asked you to watch him in the store.” Her lack of response drove him to expound, “You should have stayed there.”

“It is not your place to tell me where I should or shouldn't go or when I might leave my own shop, Mr. Dunstan.” Lacey refused to be distracted any longer by his state of dishabille. “You overstep your position to think otherwise.”

A muscle worked in his jaw while he chewed that over. Clearly still angry, Dunstan couldn't refute plain facts.

“Furthermore”—she found her own temper fueled by his unreasonable one—”I very clearly protested you leaving Decoy in my barely finished, newly scrubbed store. You didn't listen.”

He relaxed his stance a fraction. “When you asked what you should do with him, I took it you were accepting the task.”

“You told me I would think of something,” she riposted. “So I took the challenge and came up with a
resourceful
solution.”

“Dumping an entire box of soap onto a dog doesn't qualify as being resourceful!” Clearly he remembered using the word, and Lacey's gibe hit its mark. “The kindest word is foolish.”

“Mr. Dunstan!” Naomi's rebuke reminded Lacey that she and Dunstan weren't alone. Her cousin, Cora, and Evie stood around the yard, watching their every move and listening intently.

“The truth isn't always pleasant,” he grumbled, looking uncomfortable for the first time since Lacey met him.

“Everyone makes mistakes.” Cora, who used the same sort of kind understanding in her continued visiting of Braden, came to Lacey's defense. “Besides, it turned out all right in the end.”

Their championship of her acted like a balm to the still-remaining sore spot from when they'd hired Dunstan. Until that moment Lacey hadn't realized that she'd seen it as her friends taking his side, choosing him over her.
He's right—I am foolish
.

“It's not all right,” he thundered. “Look at Decoy!”

At the sound of his name, the dog perked his ears. He left the tub, which he'd been sniffing as though curious where the water had gone, and gamboled to Dunstan's side. Just before he got there, the dog hunched lower to the ground and gave a massive shake that started at his shoulders and shivered down to his rump. Water flew everywhere. Then he plopped down at his master's side, panting happily as though pleased with his work.

Lacey looked at the dog, obviously none the worse for washing, then looked at Dunstan. She raised a quizzical brow.

“Useless!” the hunter declared. If he hadn't reached down to scratch behind Decoy's ears as he said it, Lacey would've felt sorry for the dog. “He can't go in the forest like this.”

“What?” Evie scoffed at the ludicrous statement before anyone else could. “We didn't hurt him, Mr. Dunstan. It was your insistence that Decoy be allowed to follow you indoors that made this necessary. As you say, the truth isn't always pleasant.” She paused as though trying to find a way around that then shrugged. “The dog stank. He's shedding from the heat. Something had to be done to make his presence indoors more acceptable.”

Lacey could've cheered, but refrained.
Go Evie!

Their opponent looked as though he'd dearly like to kick something. “He's a
working
dog. I don't bring him inside often.”

“But when you did, you abandoned him to run loose in my nice clean store.” Lacey crossed her arms, mirroring his stance.

“You don't get it.” He passed a hand over his face, rubbing his forehead. “When he smelled like a dog, it didn't alarm the animals. Now anything we track will bolt if it's downwind from us. Snow Boy Washing Powder might as well have been a warning cry.”

“Then I suggest you attempt to remain upwind for the next few days.” Lacey wouldn't give an inch. “It'll wear off.”

He shook his head. “It doesn't work that way. Deer and mountain goats don't kindly turn around when the wind shifts. You just don't understand anything about hunting.”

“And you don't understand anything about running a shop!”

“If this is what it takes, I wouldn't want to learn.” Arms now resting at his sides, Dunstan revealed his drying shirt. Even the wet spots speckling its expanse no longer clung to him. “Cleaning a room is far easier than tracking an animal.”

His dismissal of her hard work rankled. When he wasn't looking ruggedly handsome, Dunstan became irksome. He needed someone to push him off his high horse—and Lacey needed a project now that the store was ready but had no customers.

“We'll see about that, Mr. Dunstan.” She gestured toward Decoy. “Having deprived you of your hunting companion, I'll join you tomorrow. Then you can show me just how difficult it is.”

“No.” He didn't waste any words refusing her company.

She'd suspected as much. What Lacey hadn't expected was how much she'd want to go tracking once the idea came to her.

“Hunting is your job. Knowing the ins and outs of Hope Falls is mine.” She didn't come out and say she was the boss, but Lacey knew he caught the implication. “This is the perfect opportunity for me to learn more about my land.”

“No.” His return to monosyllabic responses goaded her.

“You agreed to teach us how to trap the wildlife hereabouts.” Naomi's words made Dunstan go still.

“What?” Lacey slanted a curious glance toward her friends.

“It was one of the conditions of his employment,” Evie filled her in. “He told us he'd be happy to teach us.”

Oh, this is too perfect
. Lacey beamed at this new development and made a mental note to ask Cora what other conditions Dunstan had agreed to in their meeting.