Too Rich for a Bride (33 page)

Ambition had been her close companion since childhood, and now it seemed to have turned on her. At the age of twelve, Ida helped her sick mother as much as she could, and the sacrifice hadn’t been enough. Her mother had died anyway, leaving her with Father and three younger sisters to care for. Then she’d done her best at the Alan Merton School of Business in Maine only to have Bradley Ditmer try to take advantage of her. For the past three months, she’d spent most of her time and energy pursuing the business opportunities afforded her here in Cripple Creek and made money in the pursuit.

And for what?

She’d dumped money into a bad investment. Mollie didn’t trust her. Monday, she’d take the train to Colorado Springs to find out what had gone wrong with the assay, not knowing whether or not she could or would ever uncover the truth. In the meantime, she wasn’t certain she’d have a job next week, even if she did find answers for Mollie. As Ida pulled the quilt tighter under her chin, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to work for Mollie O’Bryan
anymore. She didn’t like the person she was becoming; the power her position afforded her didn’t seem to be good for her.

Ida had watched her siblings and her in-laws open their gifts. Nell’s eyes lit up when she handed Ida the scarf she’d made. Joy had danced across Kat’s face when Ida read the poem Kat had written for her.

In turn, she’d seen the pleasure of self-sacrifice disappear when her sisters and the others opened their extravagant, store-bought gifts. Sadness had even darkened Hattie’s eyes for a moment when she’d seen the two music cylinders.

Ida knew her family’s and friends’ subdued reactions didn’t mean they didn’t like the gifts she’d given them or even that they wouldn’t enjoy them. They’d seen into her heart. They knew she had jumbled her priorities long before she’d realized the love of making money had taken hold of her heart. God hadn’t been first in her life, in her decisions.

She’d been able to ignore the truth until the brown-eyed ice man stared at the garish beaver hat and spoke out.

“You spent too much.”

“So God might not have a problem with women earning their own money, but you do.”

Only with a woman who flaunts it
. Not his exact words, but flaunting her success and wealth was exactly what she’d done. Tucker had been brave enough to say what her family apparently wouldn’t utter. At least, not on Christmas Day.

He cared about her. She’d seen the affection in his eyes, heard it in the jangle of his fork dropping onto his plate when he’d caught her looking at him. She couldn’t help feeling a pull toward him and his ability to see into her heart. For a moment, she’d found herself hoping Tucker could be the person with whom she’d exchange winks and playful jabs next Christmas. The man from whom she’d receive pecks on the cheek.

But Tucker Raines didn’t care for her in that way. Especially not after the gift exchange this afternoon. An impervious businesswoman didn’t belong with a preacher. She didn’t deserve a man with a heart much more valuable than the gold she’d pursued with an unmatched passion.

Yet Tucker wasn’t the only person who weighed heavily on her heart that Christmas night. She thought of her employer. Mollie now held a lot of worthless stock because of her misinformation. And God only knew who else might suffer because of the assay debacle.

Boney
.

Ida pulled the quilt tight under her chin. The morning she’d bought the Olive Branch stock, the old miner had said she and Mollie seemed to have a special sense when it came to buying and selling stocks. She’d seen him bid on the same stock.

That
feeling
about a stock wasn’t a special sense, but secret information. Information she had no right to make use of, even if there were no laws against it. Hattie, Judson, and Kat had all tried to warn her. Greed was spreading through the town like a deadly epidemic, and she’d succumbed to it. No wonder some people shunned her as if she were a leper.

Pride goeth before destruction
.

Tears poured down her face and soaked her pillow.

She’d been prideful. She was ashamed of the arrogance with which she’d answered anyone and everyone who had tried to warn her. Why did she always have to be right? She didn’t have anything to prove. She didn’t have to earn the love that mattered most to her—God’s love.

Ida knew she couldn’t continue to be the strong one. She couldn’t live the rest of her life feeling alone, with nothing but her ambition to keep her company at night.

She had to make this right. But where would she even begin?

Thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ
.

This was the crossroads Tucker had talked about in his sermon.

Ida slid down to the rug beside her bed, pulling her quilt with her. She huddled beneath its warmth, on her knees.

Please forgive me, Lord. I’ve made a mess of my life. I’ve hurt myself and others in the process. I’ve hurt You. I never meant to hurt anyone
.

Sobbing, Ida rested her head against the bed as if it were God’s broad shoulder.

Lord, Tucker said that genuine faith seats You—Jesus Christ—where You belong. First. Above anything or anyone else. I haven’t done that. Not for many years. Please forgive me. I will trust You
.

Lord, please help me make things right
.

Her bedroom door creaked open.

“Ida, dear, are you all right?” Hattie stood in the doorway, holding a lantern.

Nodding, Ida took a swipe at her wet face. “I’ve made a mess of things. I’ve been so selfish.”

Hattie rushed to her side and stroked her hair. “I’m sure Tucker likes the hat.” Her soft voice was full of compassion. “You surprised him, dear. You surprised all of us.”

“It’s not about the hat.” Shuddering, Ida mopped her face with the quilt.

“I know you’re having troubles at work too, dear. But you’re on your knees and you couldn’t have gone to a better Source of help.”

Ida nodded and sniffled.

“Let’s you and I go downstairs and have us a nice cup of peppermint tea.” Hattie placed her forearms on the bed and raised herself up from the floor.

Ida wiped her face again, but before she stood, she turned back to the edge of the bed and whispered, “Amen.”

THIRTY-SEVEN

da stepped away from the game table in Nell’s parlor and moved to the bookcase, where Judson stood. “I need to speak with you.”

Her brother-in-law regarded her with wary blue eyes and a raised brow, then glanced over at his wife. Nell sat engrossed in the checkerboard. Ida had already lost to her. Morgan squirmed while Kat, his coach, sat beside him.

Judson nodded and led her into the kitchen. “Shall we sit down?”

“A good idea.” Ida chose a chair and Judson sat across from her, looking much more relaxed than she felt.

He cleared his throat. “This about what I said at the picnic?”

“It’s about Colin Wagner. Thanksgiving Day, actually.”

Judson leaned forward, his forearms on the table. “Figured you’d get around to asking about that.”

“Why did Colin assume you’d written me the note?”

“He didn’t.”

“What do you mean? He glared at you and asked if you were responsible.”

Judson folded and unfolded his hands, then grew still and looked her in the eye. “Colin assumed I meant the message for him, not you.”

Jigsaws were easier to put together. Even beating Nell at checkers was less of a challenge. “Colin thought you were telling him he was making a mistake?”

Judson nodded.

“Why would he assume that?” Ida squared the place mat in front of her and looked up at her brother-in-law.

“You think you’re ready to hear what I have to say about the man you’re seeing?”

“I’m not.” She looked away. “Seeing him anymore, that is.”

“I’m relieved to hear it.”

“But there’s other trouble.”

Judson met her gaze, showing no sign of being surprised by her news. “The assay report for the Olive Branch Mine?”

“Yes, and I need answers.”

“You believe Colin is responsible?”

She frowned. “That’s not what I … Is that what you think?”

“I think he’s somehow involved. Yes.”

Ida pressed her fingers to her forehead, trying to assuage an oncoming headache. “Why would Colin falsify the report? How?”

“Mollie trusts him. The mine owner, Blackmer, does too.”

“Yes, so why would he betray their trust and take that kind of a risk?”

“It’s all the love of money.” Judson stood and leaned on the back of his chair. “A couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, I saw Colin accepting a package from a suspected high-grader who works at the Mary McKinney Mine.”

“High-grader?”

“High-grading is stealing valuable ore from the mine. Sneaking it out and selling it on the sly.”

Ida pressed her hand against her roiling stomach. “How can you be sure it was Colin?”

“He and his high-grader friend met in the shadows between two buildings. When he saw me, I told him he was making a big mistake.”

“And what did he say?”

“He tried explaining away his contact with the man as part of his job as a law counselor.” Judson shook his head. “That’s not what the high-grader said when I later threatened to expose the deal he had with Colin.”

Clearly, Mr. Wagner wasn’t who he’d purported to be—an upstanding citizen with concern for his fellow business folk. She heaved a sigh. “Have you told anyone else?”

“Deputy Alwyn and, more recently, Reverend Taggart.”

Swallowing the acid burning her throat, Ida rose from her chair. “Colin was only seeing me to get to you?”

“I don’t know about that. I just know Colin Wagner is not what or who he professes to be.”

“I assumed Faith wrote the note out of her infatuation with Tucker. She was a bit enamored with him at first, and I figured she was just telling me Tucker was a better choice than Colin.” She paced between the icebox and the stove. “Do you think Faith knows something more about Colin?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

The schoolteacher was due back from Denver that afternoon. “I will.”

“I know I can’t tell you not to get involved in this mess—you already are—but be careful, will you?” Concern narrowed his blue eyes. “We care about you.”

“I’ll be careful. Thank you.”

Judson smiled. “We’d best return to the tournament. My wife is probably ready for her crown.”

Ida laughed and then breathed a prayer of thanksgiving for her family.

An hour later, Ida knocked on Faith’s bedroom door.

“Come in,” Faith called.

Ida obliged, breathing in the sweet scent of lilac.

Faith pulled a stack of sachets out of the carpetbag on her twin bed and twisted to look at Ida. “A gift from my grandmother.”

“So you had a good Christmas with your family?”

Faith nodded and set the sachets on top of her bureau. “It was hard to leave.”

“I’m sure it was.”

“I can’t imagine having a family member off in Paris. Denver is far enough.” Faith pointed to an armchair in the corner. “You want to sit down?”

“No, thank you. I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to ask you something.”