Too Rich for a Bride (21 page)

“On a more serious note”—Morgan paused—“have you heard anything from your parents since they left for Colorado Springs?”

Tucker leaned against the cushioned back of the sofa and propped his booted foot on the opposite knee. “I received a letter from my mother at the end of last week. My father is less than pleased with the living arrangements, but he seems to have stabilized. She said he’s breathing easier and able to walk the grounds some.”

“That’s good news.” Morgan loosened his tie and unbuttoned his vest.

“Ida said you’re staying on to run the ice business.” Judson reached for his cup of coffee.

“For a while. If I can build up the business, I’ll turn it over to someone who can run it.”

Morgan lifted his coffee cup from the table. “Don’t be too surprised when you discover you don’t want to leave Cripple Creek.”

Tucker brushed his hand through his hair. “I have responsibilities in California. I plan to return there as soon as possible.”

Judson tugged the cuffs on his shirtsleeves and met Tucker’s gaze. “You mind if I ask you a personal question?”

More matchmaking?
Planting both feet on the ground, Tucker drew in a deep breath. “Go ahead.”

“You play checkers?”

Tucker laughed. “That’s your personal question? Do I play checkers?”

“It’s a lot more serious a question than you might realize.” Morgan lowered his voice as if being heard would usher in the apocalypse.

“So, do you?” Judson returned his cup to the table.

“I do play checkers, actually.”

“You any good at it?”

Tucker leaned forward. “Just the best in seminary.”

“I like the sound of that.” Morgan gave Judson an exaggerated nod. “I think we might finally have an advantage against the Sinclair sisters.”

Light footfalls drew Tucker’s attention to the doorway.

“Dinner is served.” Miss Faith Dunsmuir was the only person he knew with that small a voice. She stood in the doorframe, rocking on her heels.

All three of the men jumped to their feet, and Tucker followed the others into the dining room.

A feast filled the table. Slices of roasted beef, creamed peas, whipped potatoes, and golden brown dinner rolls.

Ida Sinclair stood behind a chair, facing him. He held her chair out for her and then did the same for the more timid Miss Dunsmuir. As he did, he couldn’t help noting the distinct differences between the two young women.

Timid
was not a word he’d ever use in describing Miss Ida Sinclair. Instead, he’d use words like
confident
and
deliberate
.

Distracting …

Ida watched her brother-in-law’s fingers fly across the piano keyboard while she joined the others in one of Miss Hattie’s favorite pastimes—a hymn sing. After supper, she’d followed the crowd into the parlor. Her landlady’s phonograph usually provided background music, but not when Morgan Cutshaw was around to play the square grand piano she was storing for him until the couple’s home was finished.

“ ‘This is my story, this is my song, praising my Savior all the day long.’ ”

Kat’s alto voice rang out from her position on the bench beside her husband. Nell sang soprano while Judson stood next to her on one side of the piano, singing tenor. Opposite them, Faith stood beside Tucker Raines while Ida and Hattie framed the Cutshaws. The harmony of voices sent chill bumps up and down Ida’s arms, but it was the rich timbre of Tucker Raines’s baritone that warmed her heart.

Called away from his sick sister and his life as a preacher to deliver ice and build up a neglected business, the ice man had quite the story to tell. He hadn’t told her what ailed Willow, but given the man’s rejoicing at the post office over even a slight improvement, it had to have been something serious.

Still, he sang praises to his God. An extraordinary man.

All the more reason for Ida to concentrate on the keyboard and Morgan’s nimble fingers. She couldn’t avoid the warmth of Tucker’s voice, but she could and would avoid the tenderness she saw in his eyes—for her sake and for Faith’s.

The schoolteacher had managed to sit beside Tucker at supper and stand with him at the piano, and she hadn’t been nearly as diligent as Ida at controlling her impulse to stare at him. Positively googly-eyed, that girl.

“ ‘Praising my Savior all the day long.’ ”

The last note still hung in the air in Judson’s deep bass when Hattie began clapping. “A piece of heaven.” She looked at each one of her seven guests. “My family gathered ’round in sweet song.”

“I agree, Miss Hattie.” Tucker’s voice drew Ida’s gaze upward, to his Adam’s apple and his strong jaw. “Good food. Good company. Good music.” He stepped around the piano and kissed the older woman on the cheek. “Thank you for including me.”

“Anytime, dear.” Miss Hattie patted his arm like a mother would. “You’re part of our family and welcome here anytime.”

Tucker stepped back. “I best make my way home. Titan and Trojan are no doubt convinced by now that I’ve abandoned them.”

Faith followed him to the parlor door. “Mr. Raines,” she whispered.

He stopped and looked at her, his brows raised.

“Might I have a word with you before you leave?” She approached him with slow steps.

Tucker glanced up at the rest of them, then nodded. “Of course.” He held his arm out to her and Faith laid a thin hand on his shirt sleeve. “We can talk on our way to the door.”

They left the room, Faith speaking to him in hushed tones while her calico skirt swayed side to side, and jealousy surged through Ida.

She turned back toward the quiet piano keys. She obviously needed to rein in her interest in Tucker to better align it with the notion of friendship.

Thankfully, her upcoming social engagement with the charismatic Mr. Wagner was just what she needed to help her in that regard.

TWENTY-ONE

da scrutinized the clothes hanging in her wardrobe. She started with the blue chemise gown she planned to wear to the Butte Opera House Saturday night for her outing with the charming Mr. Colin Wagner. And Mollie and Mr. Miller, of course.

That was still two days away. Tomorrow was Friday, and she needed to pay special attention to what she wore to work. An outfit for participating at the stock exchange required a careful mix of femininity and business attire.

Earlier in the week, she’d worn her green serge dress to the Exchange, and her gray floral skirt late last week. For now, she only had five or six others to choose from.

She’d just pulled her black wool skirt off the clothes bar when she heard a timid knock on her bedchamber door. Definitely Faith. Miss Hattie’s knocks sounded more like a hammer pounding the head of a stubborn nail.

“Come in.”

The door clicked open. Faith took two short steps forward before pausing in the doorway. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Don’t be silly. We’re neighbors, and you’re not a bother. Maybe you can assist me.”

Faith stepped inside, then closed the door behind her. “I’d be happy to try, but I’m not sure how much help I’ll be.”

She reminded Ida of a skittish bird sitting on a brittle branch in a windstorm. Even when she’d summoned the courage to follow Tucker Raines to Hattie’s door last Sunday.

“It’s my outfit for work tomorrow. Which one do you think I should wear?”

Faith looked past her at the open wardrobe, her eyes wide.

Ida suddenly felt embarrassed by her comparative affluence. She’d only seen the schoolteacher wear two different skirts and one housedress. “I didn’t … wasn’t showing off. I didn’t mean to—”

“Now who’s being silly?” Faith’s monotone punctuated her sagging shoulders.

Ida liked the schoolteacher, but she and Faith didn’t have much, if anything, in common. Other than their curiosity about Mr. Tucker Raines, though Ida suspected the girl’s interest in the ice man ran deeper than mere curiosity.

She couldn’t help noticing the way Faith had looked at him in church and again at supper while he told a story about his travels as an itinerate preacher.
Doe-eyed
. As soon as Miss Hattie had announced Tucker would sit opposite her at the table, Faith claimed a chair beside him. Then there was that hushed conversation in the entryway. It seemed Tucker enjoyed the schoolteacher’s attentions.

Good
.

Was that why Faith had come to her room, to talk about her feelings for the ice man?

Not quite ready for such a conversation, Ida held up the black wool skirt. “Which dress do you think I should wear tomorrow for my visit to the stock exchange?” She pulled a pale blue broadcloth shirtwaist off a hook
and paired it with the skirt. “This one?” She returned the outfit to the wardrobe and pulled out a plum-colored linsey-woolsey two-piece. “Or this one?”

“I like the plum dress for a Friday.”

“The plum one it is. Thank you.”

A tentative smile quirked Faith’s mouth on one side. “You’re welcome.”

Ida returned the clothes to the wardrobe, wondering why Faith had chosen plum specifically for a Friday but even more curious about the girl’s reason for wanting to talk to her. Faith didn’t even have money enough for a new dress, so stock investment was out of the question. And the business world was far removed from the school yard. They had nothing in common there. That left Mr. Raines and matters of the heart.

Faith’s fingers worried the sleeve of her pink floral housedress. “I like your flair for fashion.”

“Thank you, but I have to give my sister Vivian credit for much of it. She designed the blue shirtwaist and the plum outfit.” Once Ida began making some serious profit from stock dividends and her commissions with Mollie, she’d show them all what real fashion looked like on a Sinclair sister.

“Your sister has good taste, and so do you.” If the strength of the teacher’s voice was any indication of the strength in her knees, Ida had cause for concern.

She closed the door on the wardrobe and turned the chair in front of her dressing table to face the bed. “Would you like to sit down?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Ida sat on the edge of the bed. As nervous as the girl was, a man had to be the subject on her heart. When Faith didn’t show any outward signs of beginning the conversation, Ida drew in a deep breath and took the lead.
“Faith, if you’re worried about what I think of you and Mr. Raines growing … uh, closer, don’t be.”

The younger woman’s eyes widened while her cheeks out-pinked her dress. She popped up from the chair. “That’s not what I want to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

Faith paced from the dressing table to the wardrobe and back. “It’s a school matter.”

“I see.” It was a common expression, but why did people say they saw when they didn’t
see
anything at all? Ida certainly couldn’t
see
why the teacher would come to her with such a matter.

Faith sat back down and clasped her hands in her lap. “I have a student who is having difficulty with multiplication.”

The teacher’s intentions were still no clearer than the mud in Colorado’s potholes. “You have a business mind,” Faith continued. “I’ve heard you talk at the meal table and during our tea times with Miss Hattie. I hoped you could help him.”