Tall, Dark, and Determined (35 page)

Mr. Dunstan looked anything but pleased with the suggestion, but held his tongue. Maybe the man knew better than to argue after the debacle earlier this morning. Maybe he realized that keeping an eye on the four of them when they weren't in town, and possibly exposed to greater danger that way, counted as part of his position. And maybe … just maybe … he felt a twinge of compunction over the way he'd treated Lacey earlier.

Cora couldn't be sure of his reason for keeping quiet, but she knew Lacey volunteered his help as a form of revenge. Her best friend was as hurt as she was angry by Dunstan's low opinion, and that sort of thing always made Lacey lash out.

It must be a Lyman trait
, she decided. Braden did the same.
I wonder whether he'll be unhappy letting another man accompany me on a picnic?
Jealousy, although not ideal, meant a man cared. Trust could follow love, if the feelings remained.

A sigh escaped her.
How low I've sunk if I'm hoping he's jealous!
There had been a time once when Braden wouldn't leave her side long enough to become jealous. Before Hope Falls.

“Sounds like a splendid idea,” Cora seconded Lacey's plan. Whether or not the ploy worked would be telling. If Braden rose to the bait, it would be a good indication that he merely hid the feelings she kept hoping to rekindle with her visits to him. Otherwise, he no longer cared. His reaction would tell her if she should continue hoping … or if all hope was lost.

Lacey hoped her burst of inspiration would unsettle Chase Dunstan—and remind him of his place.
Not out of snobbery, she reassured herself. But because he deserves to feel as unsettled as he makes me. The man may not follow convention, but that doesn't mean he can do as he pleases and insult whomever he wishes!

The cribbage reward clipped his wings, since usually Dunstan came and went as he pleased. But the contrary man gave no outward sign of displeasure at the imposition. He fought dirty to find a way out of taking her along on a hunt, but maintained total equanimity when faced with shepherding eight people on a picnic. A chill spread through Lacey's midsection.

He didn't protest because I curtailed his freedom, she suddenly realized. The picnic doesn't bother him. Most likely, he wouldn't have argued if Cora or Naomi wanted to learn how to track animals. No. He's doesn't want to be saddled with me
.

An odd numbness gripped Lacey as the men around her enthusiastically agreed to the competition, rising to their feet to go fetch the cribbage boards they'd made weeks before.

Draxley, the avowed cribbage critic, looked like he was weighing whether or not to throw his hat in the ring. Strangely enough, his question wasn't about food—the only thing he'd showed interest in for the entire time Lacey knew him. “Where is this picnic going to be? Any sort of spot in mind, Dunstan?”

“Doesn't matter where we go, so long as the women are with us.” Williams already took for granted that he'd win a place.

“What sort of food will there be?” Clump worried. “Will there still be lunch for those of us who don't get a spot?”

“No one misses a meal!” Evie sounded scandalized. To her, the very idea she'd let someone go hungry was deeply offensive. “I believe Lacey meant that Mr. Dunstan would be going out of his way to catch a special treat for the picnic goers.”

“Already have something in mind. As for the place”—he wore an odd look of determination as he decided—”toward the south, just past the mines, there's plenty of spaces already cleared. It'll be far enough away from town so the party stays private.”

“Braden won't like that.” Cora's mutter didn't sound like a protest. In fact, her best friend looked pleased at the idea of irritating her fiancé. “He won't like that one little bit.”

“Here, now!” Draxley's high, reedy voice reached the breaking point. “Those mines aren't safe! Even if there wasn't any danger, it'd be a dismal place to try and enjoy yourself. It reeks of morbidity to picnic in the shadow of such a tragedy.”

“I think it speaks of honoring life,” Cora argued. “The lives that were lost and the way life should move along for those who remain. Laughter leaches away sorrow, and we've allowed the sorrow to take hold for long enough, Mr. Draxley.”

Lacey could only guess what that speech cost her friend, but Cora's face absolutely shone with the power of what she'd said.
She's ready to move past the tragedy,
Lacey realized.
Braden's the only one determined to wallow in it—and he drags Cora down along with him. Little wonder she's eager to tell my brother that we aren't making the mountainside a macabre memorial!

“Mr. Dunstan has greater understanding of the land and how it lays than any of us,” she chimed in. “Whether you agree with his choice or not, I have every confidence we'll be safe. It's not as though he plans to take us on a tour of the ruins.”

Surprise and speculation stamped Dunstan's face before he schooled his expression into impassivity. Lacey abruptly became aware that she'd never complimented his abilities before. Declaring her faith in his judgment made a considerable leap from arguing with him over his faulty ideas about her character.

Well, Mr. Dunstan. There are some things we can agree on and others you'll have to learn. Perhaps I shouldn't hope to aggravate you—I should hope you'll get to know us well enough to become more agreeable! She smiled as the men brought their games and cards to the tables, their chatter humming through the room
.

“Think he can rustle up some more beaver tails?” Someone spawned an avalanche of fond remembrances over the soup.

“Naw. They's too rare nowadays.” Regret coated every word as the man slapped his cribbage board down atop the table.

“Do you suppose we get to choose which woman we want to take there?” Bobsley shot an assessing glance Naomi's way.

“Dunno, since two of 'em aren't up for grabs anyway.” One of the buckers from Williams's crew gave an unconcerned shrug. “So long as you get to go along, you've got a chance to cozy up to whichever one you like.” Bobsley's sharp elbows jabbed the man into realizing Lacey could hear every word. He quieted.

Lacey drew her packet of cribbage pegs from the pocket of her apron—she'd tucked them inside on the way to the kitchen that morning when the skies made it clear they'd be spending the day indoors. It never hurt to be prepared—or to save herself from getting soaked to the skin in a dash back to the house.

“All right. Now, everyone who doesn't wish to play can take a seat at that table.” She pointed toward the front of the room, away from the kitchen. “Then head to the left if you know how to play, or go to the right if you need a demonstration first.”

Thankfully, more men headed to the left. Lacey didn't have the patience of a good teacher, but she would've stepped in if more competitors didn't know the complex game. Her cousin, with unshakable composure and a fondness for giving lessons, made an excellent teacher. Lacey gladly left the beginner table and all the explanations of values, rules, and terms to Naomi.

Among the rest, she was surprised to see Mr. Draxley. “I was under the impression you didn't enjoy cribbage,” she couldn't resist remarking. After all, the man made his opinion known to all of them, and to top it off he'd criticized the picnic site.
What made him decide to join the competition?

“I'm curious to see what our new hunter brings to the table.” He didn't look particularly excited. “Besides, I rarely take a day away from my desk. It'll break the monotony a bit.”

Lacey didn't question him further, instead divvying up the remaining men into pairs. “We'll do this properly. Each pair will draw to see who deals, and the cards will be dealt and pegs in place for every table before anyone starts playing.” Hopefully that would regulate the timing of the games and give Dunstan the opportunity to make sure no one tried to cheat.

With the exception of Naomi's table of learners, who'd already gotten underway in a team-style match, they readied themselves swiftly. When Lacey judged everyone prepared, she nodded to Evie, who stood beside the dinner bell. Her friend rang it with an impressively loud, resounding
clang
.

On cue, Lacey called out, “Let the games begin!”

    TWENTY-NINE    

I
'm being watched
. Chase felt her eyes on him, sensed the impatience with which she waited for him to finish his outstanding breakfast of eggs in overcoats. He'd never seen the like of the dish and refused to rush through it.

Miss Lyman could cool her heels while he enjoyed this admirable creation. After the stunt she'd pulled last week, foisting a picnic on him with the cribbage winners, Chase didn't feel particularly inclined to accommodate her.

Maybe if Williams hadn't managed to snag a spot, he wouldn't mind so much. But the man had joined Riordan, Clump, and—surprisingly—Draxley in victory. Clump and Riordan were good sorts to have around. Draxley might prove useful if Chase could pump him for more information about Hope Falls when it was owned by Miracle Mining.

Williams ruined what could have been an enjoyable afternoon. Now, instead of questioning Draxley or even relaxing, Chase would have to keep a hawk eye on the rabble-rouser. The man made no bones about the fact he was angling for Miss Lyman, and he'd already started making noise about wanting to go for a little walk after the meal ended.
Not going to happen
.

Today they'd be hunting partridge for the special main dish Miss Lyman recklessly promised. Food was a form of art Chase really appreciated, and he intended to savor this example. Besides, he deserved to linger over breakfast before facing the next few days. Chase picked up another one of the eggs in overcoats and surveyed it closely before sinking his teeth in.

As near as he could figure, they'd baked potatoes, cut off the tops, and scooped out the insides. They mashed the potatoes real nice and creamy and added bits of ham to the mix. That alone would've made for good eating, but the estimable Miss Thompson didn't stop there. She'd gotten
creative
and plunked a boiled egg between layers of the ham mash and baked cheese.

Chase had no idea the egg lurked inside until he bit into the thing. Then the name made sense.
Eggs in overcoats, indeed
. He put away four of them before so much as reaching for the coffee. Since then, he'd polished off three slices of buttered toast and was now reaching for his fifth overcoated egg. Miss Lyman, he'd been instantly aware, started watching him while he enjoyed the third egg-and-potato surprise. Now the heat of her impatience could've kept a cabin warm on a winter day.

“If you're quite finished, Mr. Dunstan?” Apparently reaching her breaking point, she stood before him. Her graceful fingers played with a small watch dangling from a thin chain.

Actually, he had been. While she kept silent, he figured he'd kept her waiting long enough to get the message across. But she'd shot herself in the foot by coming over here.
Now I have to show her we're on my timetable—not hers. When we hit the forest, it's my way of doing things, and she either learns to live with that and follow my directions or gets left behind
.