Too Rich for a Bride (23 page)

“You’re probably just working too hard.” Ida patted her shoulder. “Seventeen seems a young age to strike out on your own and take on the responsibility of teaching other people’s children.” Especially people like Mr. Updike.

“I like teaching.”

“It shows. You’ll do just fine.” Ida glanced out the window at the cloudless sky. “Would you like to go for a walk?”

“Thank you, but Miss Hattie is expecting me back at the house for lunch, and then she’s helping me with my hair. We’re going to Dr. Cutshaw’s piano concert tonight.”

“I’ll be there too. I’ll see you back at the house this afternoon.”

“Yes. Enjoy your walk.”

Ida left Faith standing at the blackboard and put on her wool mantle. As she walked out of the schoolhouse, the bright sunlight made her shield her eyes. The sun’s warmth had melted the snow from the steps, but the ground still held a thin blanket of white powder, causing a blinding reflection.

She’d decided on a walk, thinking it might be good for Faith, but since the mention of the concert, Ida’s thoughts churned with her own plans to visit the opera house that night with Colin Wagner. A walk seemed like a favorable idea for sorting them out, but the idea of strolling the main thoroughfare didn’t appeal to her. She did that every workday.

If only the creek were safe. Burbling water seemed the most compelling destination.

Tucker Raines had once invited her to visit the stretch of creek on his parents’ property. Did the offer still stand? Did she dare take him up on it? As much as he’d been working lately, he probably wouldn’t be home. He wouldn’t even have to know she’d been there.

Ida walked down the hill to Bennett Avenue, then turned left on Third Street and crossed over to Second Street on Warren. She approached the Raines property warily. A modest log cabin, a privy, a small barn. The fence was in good repair, with a gate at the corner. The enclosure seemed safe enough.

Solitude
.

Nestled between two slender willow saplings, a narrow, pine bench sat on a grassy knoll just above the creek, exposed to enough direct sunlight to keep the early snow melted off. A peaceful setting and a perfect place for thinking. Was that why Tucker had put the bench here? Did he come here to think and pray?

Ida straightened her spine, hoping to realign her thoughts as well. She wasn’t here to ponder the ice man.

Tonight’s concert would have been a family affair, except Colin Wagner invited her first and she’d accepted, not knowing her brother-in-law would be the entertainment and all of her Cripple Creek family would be there. The evening was simply an outing for a group of business colleagues, but seeing her there with the attorney could add fuel to the matchmakers’ fires. And the fact that Ida would also be in the company of the stockbroker and Mollie O’Bryan might not sit well with the family. Judson, in particular.

“Miss Sinclair?”

Ida jumped up from the bench and turned. Tucker Raines approached her, wearing his blue chambray shirt and a smile that rivaled the warmth of the sun. Ida couldn’t help noticing that ice delivery apparently did for the body what good preaching did for the soul. “I didn’t know you were here,” she said.

“I’m glad you took me up on my invitation.” He continued walking toward her, and she grasped the back of the bench to steady herself. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but the weakness in her knees had less to do with being startled than with who had startled her.

Ida pressed her collar to her neck. “It’s a lovely place.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” He stopped directly in front of her.

“Me too.” Had she really said that aloud?

The grin on Tucker’s face said she had not only spoken aloud, she had also used Nell’s dreamy voice in doing so.

He needed to quit looking at her.

When his gaze lingered, hers did too. And looking into his brown eyes, she suddenly craved a tall mug of rich coffee with a hint of fresh cream.

Tucker shifted his weight to pivot toward the bench. “I’d enjoy sitting with you for a few minutes, if you don’t mind.” He held out his hand.

She wouldn’t tell him she liked the idea, but she did. And why not? They could be considered friends. They both attended the same church. They both adored Hattie. They both felt obligations to their respective families. It made perfect sense for them to enjoy visiting with one another, especially with no matchmaking crowd present.

Ida seated herself at the far end of the bench.
Good
. They wouldn’t be looking directly at one another anymore.

Tucker sat beside her and leaned back.
Worse
. He was close enough that she could smell Bay Rum on his scrubbed face. Close enough to lay her head against his solid shoulder.

What was the matter with her? She shook her head to rid herself of such thoughts.

“Are you all right?” Concern etched his voice.

Ida peered over at him, conjuring up that refreshing cup of coffee again. When he reached for her face, her breath caught.

“You have something …” He gently slid his finger over the bridge of her nose. “Chalk?” Without looking away, he wiped his finger on his trousers.

She nodded, waiting for the lump in her throat to allow words through. “I’m tutoring one of Faith’s students. I was working at the blackboard.”

“So you’re not all business?”

Ida’s back stiffened and she pressed her hands to her skirt. “Why does everyone assume I’m some kind of self-centered moneygrubber? I do have other interests. I spend time with my sisters. Hattie. Church. Tutoring.”

Tucker reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a crisp, white handkerchief. Smiling, he waved it. “I surrender. You have other interests.”

Ida giggled as much in a nervous response to her outburst as she did to his humorous antics.

“I didn’t mean it as a criticism.”

“That makes you the only one.” Ida hooked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear and drew in a cleansing breath. “I’m sorry I overreacted.”

“Apology accepted.” He slid the handkerchief back into his pocket. “I gather you’ve faced some opposition since you’ve been in town.”

Ida relaxed against the back of the bench. “How did you guess?” More giggles spilled out of her. “Any further word from your sister on how she’s feeling?”

Tucker gazed out at the water burbling in front of them. “She’s been in an institution for nearly two years.”

“Oh.” She turned and joined him in an unfocused gaze toward the creek. What if one of her sisters required such care? How would she manage? “Is Willow going to be all right?”

“I received a second report today. She’s beginning to respond and speak.” He drew in a deep breath. “Bereavement melancholia is what the doctor called it. Something happened.”

“If you’d rather not talk about it …”

Tucker picked up a rock at his feet. He seemed to study it and then threw it into the creek before looking at her again. “Willow married my best friend. Sam’s the one who shared his faith in Christ with me.” He cleared his throat. “He and I were in seminary together in San Francisco. When Sam and Willow married, he moved her into a cottage on the school grounds.”

Ida gazed back at the house behind them. “Your parents were here by then?”

“No, they were still living in Stockton. The three of us went down for weekend visits. Sometimes Sam and I practiced our preaching at his father’s church there. We liked to go to the San Joaquin River on our breaks to picnic and swim. One Saturday in July of ’94, I decided to see if I could
swim across to the opposite shore. The wind kicked up some waves, but it didn’t seem rough enough for me to give up.”

The knot in Ida’s stomach told her this story wouldn’t have a happy ending, and she swallowed hard against the fear.

“Sam lost sight of me and became worried. Went in after me.” Tucker stared into her eyes as if he were drawing strength from her. “I didn’t know it until I’d returned to shore. He wasn’t there, and Willow was hysterical with fear. I looked for him, but I was too late.” His shoulders sagged.

Ida resisted the impulse to pull him into an embrace, to comfort him. He’d been carrying far too heavy a load. And a man of God, no less. A man who appeared to walk by faith no matter the path.

“I’m so sorry.” Ida leaned toward him. “You have to know his death wasn’t your fault.”

“One can know something deep down, but on the surface where we tend to live, those things are harder to see and believe.” Tucker pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the tears spilling down his face.

He was deeper than any other man she’d ever met. And she’d guess his faith in the midst of pain had taken him there.

“After the funeral, Willow moved back in with my folks. She withdrew deeper and deeper into herself until finally my father couldn’t bear to see her anymore. He was angry at his inability to help her and embarrassed by her irrepressible sorrow.”

“He had her committed?”

Tucker nodded.

Ida laid her hand on his arm.

“Thank you.” His smile sent shivers up the back of her neck.

Sympathy. Empathy
. That would explain her reaction to this multifaceted man.

Except that he’d stirred her heart long before she knew the depth of his pain. Before she’d seen the strength of his character.

And sitting beside him now in comfortable silence, watching two ravens gliding on a wind current, only served to strengthen the stirring in her heart.

TWENTY-FOUR

ucker guided the carriage he’d rented for the evening’s festivities down Bennett Avenue. As Titan’s and Trojan’s hoofs thumped through the thin layer of snow toward the Butte Opera House, his thoughts churned in rhythm with the wagon wheels.

He was escorting two women to Morgan’s piano concert. He considered each of them a friend, but neither had administered a soothing salve to his heart at the creek.

“So kind of you to be our escort this evening, Tucker.” Miss Hattie sat beside him. He couldn’t see her smile in the shadows, but he knew it was there.

“It’s my pleasure, Miss Hattie.” He glanced at the seat behind her where Faith Dunsmuir sat looking more like a porcelain figurine than a young woman who kept up with children all day. “Miss Dunsmuir. Two lovely ladies to escort.”

Tucker looked toward the opera house. Couples heading to the only wholesome evening entertainment available in Cripple Creek that night clogged the streets. Many older couples stood patiently in line, but he was struck by the number of young couples holding hands and finding pleasure in each other’s company. He’d certainly enjoyed friendships with women, but he hadn’t courted anyone. He’d been too busy the past six
years working at his father’s icehouse in Stockton, attending seminary, visiting Willow, and then trying to keep things afloat here.

Once Tucker had turned the horses and the carriage over to the attendant, he escorted his two companions up the steps. Miss Hattie stopped just outside the door and her gaze darted toward Faith.

When he realized what Hattie was suggesting, he held his arm out to the schoolteacher. “Miss Dunsmuir.” He didn’t want to encourage her attentions toward him, but he could be a gentleman. After all, tonight was reserved for friends and fun with the Sinclair sisters and their husbands. He and Ida hadn’t talked about her plans for this evening while at the creek, but she’d no doubt be sitting with her sisters.

The moment Tucker stepped into the lobby with Faith on his arm, he knew he’d supposed wrong. Ida was there, looking like his vision of royalty visiting heads of state, with a gloating man stuck to her side. At least it appeared that way to Tucker.

“Mrs. Adams.” Wagner held a top hat. “Miss Dunsmuir.” Returning his crown to his head, the attorney shifted his gaze to Tucker. “Mr. Raines.”

No doubt about it, the man was a peacock, and his feathers were full out.

Tucker lifted his freshly brushed, wide-brimmed hat off his head with his free hand. “Miss Sinclair, it’s good to see you again. Quite a transformation from what you wore earlier at the creek.” When Ida’s thin smile gave way to a glare, he turned his attention to the man dressed like a president. “Mr. Wagner.”

He’d just spread his own feathers. He couldn’t say why, but Ida Sinclair didn’t belong with that man.