Too Rich for a Bride (22 page)

Ida moistened her lips. “I’m not a teacher, and I don’t—”

“I
need
you to help him.” Tears pooled in Faith’s blue eyes, and one spilled down her cheek.

“I keep plenty busy with my work and my sis—”

“The banker is on the school board. Eugene Updike.”

Ida blinked. On her first visit to the stock exchange, she had engaged Mr. Updike in a hissing match that ended with him welcoming her to the
“snake pit.”
Ever since, she’d gone out of her way to avoid him.

“He voted against hiring me but lost to the majority.” Faith brushed the tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to cry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been known to shed a few tears myself. But I don’t see what—”

“My student, he’s the banker’s son.”

Ida groaned. Now she was beginning to
see
.

“If I can’t teach him to calculate multiplication problems, I might lose my job. I need this job, Miss Sinclair.”

Something else they had in common—they both had jobs they wanted to keep. “And you think I can help?”

Faith’s staccato nod bounced the dark curls on either side of her aqua eyes. “You could tutor Delos Updike. You could help him learn his multiplication tables. You could help me keep my job.”

At seventeen, Faith was the same age as Vivian. And if Vivian were in trouble, Ida would want someone to help her. The big-sister blood running through her veins boiled. She had to help Faith stand against the bully banker and hold on to her job.

Ida pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and rose from the edge of the bed. “You’re very persuasive.”

“I am?”

Nodding, Ida handed the linen kerchief to Faith. “I’ll tutor him Saturday mornings at ten o’clock for one hour. Eight Saturdays would put us in the middle of December.”

Faith blotted the tears from her face, and a smile chased the cloudy hue from her blue eyes.

Ida returned the teacher’s smile. “Delos should well be able to calculate by then.”

“That’ll be wonderful. Thank you.”

Big sisters are such an easy mark. At least I am
.

But it felt good to help this girl. And she’d much rather tutor Eugene Updike’s son than hear Faith talk about her romantic feelings for Tucker.

TWENTY-TWO

riday morning, Tucker stopped by Charles Miller’s office on the way to the depot. Two secretaries worked feverishly at their desks. A stack of certificates occupied the older woman on the left, while the girl on the right was on the phone, placing an ad in the newspaper.

The woman with graying hair waved him back to Mr. Miller’s private office. Charles Miller couldn’t be any taller than five foot nine, but he was a big man in Cripple Creek business, and well respected. Tucker had received mixed reviews about some of the other men who dealt in the stock exchange.

“I have something for you.” The trim broker unlocked a cabinet behind his desk and pulled an envelope out of a folder.

Tucker’s pulse jolted at the thought of stocks in his father’s ice company having sold. He might actually have capital for growing the business.

“This is the first bank draft. I have several more investors looking at the company, waiting to see what you do with this first influx of cash.” The broker smoothed his hand over his thin mustache, holding Tucker’s gaze as he held out the envelope. “Spend it wisely and diligently stick to your business plan. Remember, your prospectus is what these people are betting on.”

Mr. Miller’s counsel hung in the air in sharp contrast to Colin Wagner’s.
“What a person does is directed by his own conscience.”

Tucker nodded and opened the envelope. After seeing the number written on the check, he glanced up at Miller. “Have you taken out your fee?”

“I have indeed.” Miller smiled, revealing perfectly straight teeth. “More there than you expected?”

“Considerably.” Tucker slid the envelope into his coat pocket. “This should be enough to buy another wagon and team and land for the icehouse. And I’d like to have the icehouse built by the time winter hits if more money comes in before then.”

“Sounds like a good plan. I’m glad you were pleasantly surprised.” Miller tugged his vest straight. “We aim to please our folks on both sides of the quote board.”

“I’m pleased.”

“Check back with me in two weeks. I hope to have another draft for you by then.”

“I will. Thank you.” Tucker waved and stepped outside just as the train’s shrill whistle echoed through town.

The wind sweeping down from the snowcapped peaks caught his hat. He tugged it tight on his forehead and buttoned his canvas coat. Otis had the wagon that morning, so Tucker walked toward the bank.

From the looks of the clouds gathering and the chill on the wind, he guessed they’d have at least a dusting of snow in the valley before nightfall. But Tucker wasn’t worried about the weather hindering his construction plans. Once he and Otis had dug down about six feet and formed the rock lining, there wouldn’t much more to do to build the icehouse. They’d have the simple structure finished before the heavy snows came.

God was making a way for him in the wilderness, as He had for Morgan Cutshaw. At supper on Sunday, the doctor had shared how he’d lost his first wife and son in childbirth. How God had given him a second chance
with Kat and the child they were expecting. God was doing the same for Tucker. His father still seemed to be in remission. His mother didn’t appear to miss her house much and enjoyed spending time with her sister. Willow showed signs of coming out from behind the shadow of sorrow. Both the sanitorium and the asylum had agreed to a sixty-day stay on the bills. God was doing a new thing for him as well.

“Thank You, Lord.” Tucker looked around, expecting—maybe even hoping—to see Ida Sinclair watching him as she’d done the last two times he’d prayed aloud on the street. But she wasn’t one of the people walking the boardwalk on either side of him, and he continued toward the bank.

After depositing his investment money and a quick stop to see the land agent, Tucker headed to the loading dock at the depot. Otis already had the wagon backed up to the ice car.

“Happy Friday, Otis.”

His bear of a friend looked at him from around the back of the wagon. “Well, if you don’t look like a mountain lion that done swallowed a marmot.”

“Sold some stocks.”

Anticipation made Otis’s dark eyes shine like a handful of diamonds. “Thank the Lord.”

“Indeed. And we have an icehouse to build.” Tucker pointed to the four acres of property behind him. “That creekside piece of property now belongs to the Raines Ice Company.”

Otis’s smile, though still lopsided, enjoyed the full width of his face. “I just know God is blessing you for your faithfulness in the trials.”

“Manna in the wilderness?” Tucker removed his hat and held it out to the sky, as if to catch falling bread.

“Yes sir, everything we need.”

Tucker nodded. “The next draft should buy us enough lumber to finish up the icehouse and add more stalls to the barn. In the meantime, I have your pay for you.” He pulled an envelope of cash from his coat pocket and handed the package to his partner.

“Thank you. I wouldn’t take this just now, except—” Otis counted the bills and shoved them and the envelope back at Tucker. “It’s too much.”

Tucker raised both hands, refusing to accept the return. “Just a small bonus for your faithfulness to my father. And to me. I know you agreed to work for a set pay, but you’ve been more than just a hired hand to us.”

“Thank you.” Otis stuffed the offering inside his shirt. “You think when we’re done loadin’ we could stop outside the Exchange? Boney’s been spendin’ most of his mornings there lately. Said he’d buy me some stock when I was ready.”

“We can do that.”

Tucker smiled. Neither Otis nor Boney fit any mold he had ever seen. As a matter of fact, this town was unlike any he’d ever been to, with few people fitting into established patterns. Laborers buying stocks, women running businesses …

And a preacher selling ice.

TWENTY-THREE

ou’ve gone beyond an hour, Miss Sinclair.” Faith spoke from her desk, where she’d been working through a stack of slates. Ida set her chalk in the tray and glanced up at the clock on the back wall of the classroom. Five minutes past eleven. She looked down at Delos Updike, who stood beside her at the board. “You’ve done a fine job today.”

“I think you’re helping me.” His smile showcased the freckles that bridged his nose. “Thank you, Miss Sinclair.”

The Updike boy wasn’t at all what she’d expected. Unlike his father, he had manners and a sweet disposition.

“You’re welcome, Delos. You’re a hard worker, and I think you’ll do fine.” Ida retrieved her mantle from a corner desk. “Remember what I told you.”

“Yes ma’am. It doesn’t matter which number is first, the answer will be the same.”

“Very good. I’ll see you next Saturday morning then.”

He nodded, and his red hair waved like grass in the wind. At the door, he turned to his teacher. “Good-bye, Miss Dunsmuir.”

“Good day, Delos. I’ll see you Monday.”

The boy flew out the door and tromped down the steps.

Faith wore her gray linsey-woolsey dress again today. Ida made a mental note to add a dress for the schoolteacher to her Christmas shopping list.

“You were good with him.” Faith’s emphasis on the word
good
suggested she’d been just as surprised as Ida by her skill with Delos.

“Thank you.” Ida reached for her reticule. “It’s been awhile since I contemplated the basics, but I had fun.”

“He’s a joy to teach, just lacks confidence.” Faith could’ve been speaking of herself, and for the first time, Ida wondered if a lack of confidence contributed to the young schoolteacher’s nervousness. Timidity wasn’t a trait any of the Sinclair sisters could claim.

Faith lunged forward and enfolded Ida in a tight hug, then let go and swiped at tears that curtained her face. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Ida smiled. “My sisters and I hug all the time.”

More tears. “That’s just it. I’ve always wanted one. A big sister.”

“They’re bossy. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.” Ida winked, and Faith giggled. Ida felt her own shoulders lift, knowing she still had the magic
big-sister touch
. Self-deprecating humor always worked on Nell and Vivian too.