Too Rich for a Bride (6 page)

“Morgan’s surgical rooms aren’t that spotless.” Kat giggled, and Nell swatted her arm.

As they walked past the school yard, a gusty autumn breeze pulled bright crimson leaves from oak branches and sent them twisting and twirling through the chilled air.

“Our autumn acrobats are right on time.” Kat held out her gloved hands as if she intended to catch one. “Soon we’ll be eating our fill of apple pie and pumpkin bread.”

As they walked down the hill toward the depot, Nell stared toward the mountain pass like she had gawked at the fireplace on Christmas Eve as a little girl. This time she waited for her oldest sister.

“Do you think Ida will like living here? Our adjustment to Cripple Creek was quite abrupt, with no one to meet us, then the fire. And it’s not at all like Maine.” Kat waved at a woman passing by in a wagon.

“I expect she will. Judson said there are plenty of business opportunities to appease her appetite.”

“Sounds like he knows her already.” Kat winked.

“I think I’ve been talking about her and Vivian nonstop since I saw Ida’s wire about her early arrival.”

“Seems to be the way with us Sinclair sisters.”

Nell watched a raven soar on an air current. “I know why we had to come early, but I can’t figure out Ida’s change of plans.” A sharp whistle sounded and the train cleared the cut, slowing for the last grade down the hill. Nell enfolded Kat’s gloved hand in hers. “Sounds like I’ll know her reasons soon enough. She’s on the last stretch.”

Kat raised a brow, her brown eyes pensive. “I remember it well.”

“It seemed the longest.”

“Not as endless as our wait here outside the depot.”

“She’s expecting Sinclair sisters, not a man, so she’ll be fine.” Nell giggled.

The sisters stepped up onto the depot platform just as the train rounded the last corner on its approach into Cripple Creek. As the locomotive slowed to a stop, they could see Ida’s face at the window. When their eyes met hers, Nell and Kat both let out squeals of joy, causing those around them to stop and stare.

Ida wished she could shed her soiled duster before she reunited with her sisters. However, given the pressing crowd, she counted it good enough that she’d found space to pull her coat and satchel from the shelf above her before she finally stepped out onto the deck. She accepted her hero’s hand and he guided her to the ground.

“Thank you again for your help, Mr. Wagner.” She hooked a pesky tendril of hair behind her ear. “With my sloshy seatmate and seeing me off the train.”

“My pleasure, Miss Sinclair.” He tapped the rim of his bowler. “I’ll have that talk with Mollie O’Bryan, and I’ll see you again soon.”

While he walked away, Ida scanned the platform to relocate her sisters now that she was on solid ground. Kat and Nell stood not even six feet away, their feet planted and their mouths hanging open.

After they greeted one another with warm hugs, Nell took Ida’s satchel from her and lifted a questioning brow. “You traveled with Mr. Wagner?”

“It feels like winter out here.” Ida glanced down at her soot-covered duster. “I need to remove this thing and put my coat on.” After Nell helped her do just that, Ida led the way toward the depot.

“Don’t play coy with us, Ida Mae.” Kat caught up to her, wagging her finger. “Mr. Colin Wagner is a single man, and he helped you off the train.”

“And spoke to you in hushed tones.” The dreaminess Ida saw in Nell’s blue eyes matched that of her voice.

Persistence was a Sinclair family habit. Still, the less said, the better. “You already know him, so you must also know he is an attorney here in town.”

“He said he’ll see you soon.” Kat’s chin jutted out in a teasing smile. “You’re already making social arrangements?”

“Business. He meant he’ll see me soon at Mollie O’Bryan’s office, if I get the job.”

“All business?” Nell batted thick blond lashes.

Ida huffed. “Yes. But it’s good to know we still have an incurable romantic or two in the family.” She tilted her head and raised a brow. “Now tell me, are my brothers-in-law really good enough to be related to me?”

Kat’s laugh sounded like thunderclaps and Nell’s like a trickling brook. Both were music to Ida’s ears.

They talked nineteen to the dozen all the way into the depot washroom. Letters provide sketches, but sisters take pleasure in the details. Ida told them the story of her soggy seatmate and Mr. Wagner coming to her rescue … anything to steer them clear of the shameful incident with Mr. Bradley Ditmer.

After Ida arranged for the porter to deliver her trunk to Hattie’s, she was ready to see the town she’d been hearing so much about. She was reaching for the depot door when it burst open from the outside.

A gust of wind caught the brim of her hat and yanked it free from its pins. She wasn’t quick enough to keep the hat from tumbling off her head, but she managed to catch it before it flew any further than arm’s length. She didn’t have such luck, however, with the pearl-headed hatpin that landed like a dart into the toe of a dirty work boot.

The man attached to the hatpin filled the doorway, and his brown eyes were the size of her aunt’s hot cakes. He scrubbed his neatly trimmed beard, then bent and retrieved the pin. As he stood, he held it out to her. “I apologize, ma’am.”

And so he should. This was his fault.

Ida finger-combed her mussed hair back from her face, aware he was watching her. She felt a wave of warmth burn her cheeks despite the chilled air from the open door.

“Tucker, dear?” A thin-faced woman peeked around the man. “Your father—”

“Yes.” He glanced out the door and then back at Ida. “Would you mind holding the door for a moment?”

Ida stepped forward to do so. She watched him reach out to a man who leaned on a hand-carved walking stick and looked as if he’d been sucking
on persimmons. The younger man cradled the gentleman’s elbow and assisted him over the threshold. Then he extended his hand to the thin-faced, fragile-looking woman and helped her up the step as well.

She’d stood in their way, embarrassed that she had been so concerned about a little gust of wind. “I should’ve been the one to apologize,” Ida said.

He looked back at her and nodded, his smile warming his cocoa-brown eyes.

On her way out the door, Kat handed another wayward pin to Ida, then glanced toward the ticket counter and the brown-eyed man. “Business?”

Giggling, the three of them set off for the boardinghouse, hand in hand.

Tucker took long strides from the depot to the ice car. Otis had dropped him and his folks off before driving the wagon around to the loading dock for the ice pickup. By the time Tucker arrived, Otis and Abraham had already loaded a full layer of ice into the back of the wagon, and while Abraham spread straw over the first layer, Otis slid another three-hundred-pound block on top of it.

He looked up at Tucker. “Didn’t expect you till after the train hooted on its way out of town.”

Tucker pulled his wool gloves out of his coat pockets. “My father said he’d rather I tend to the work needing to be done.” He jammed his fingers into the gloves.

“I’m sorry.”

Sorry his father was sick? Sorry he’d left Willow and the work of his heart in California? Or sorry his father blamed him for the drowning and held him responsible for everything that had happened since then? Tucker
chose not to ask. He simply nodded, grateful for Otis and his loyalty to the family. Raines Ice Company wouldn’t have survived at all without his steadfast work ethic and brawny build.

“He never mentioned having children.” Otis’s tone held the same flatness Tucker felt. “Your mama told me about you. Said you’re a preacher.” He glanced at the flat-topped, wide-brimmed hat Tucker wore.

“I am. I mostly speak at camp meetings.” Tucker shifted his weight to the other boot—the one punctured by the hatpin. “That is, I did until I left California to come here.”

“You miss it? Preaching?”

Tucker turned and sat on the edge of the wagon. “I was eighteen—five years ago—when I placed my faith in Jesus Christ. My curiosity and my ‘gift of gab,’ as one of my seminary professors called it, shifted to focus heavily on Scripture and spiritual things. Some people call it ‘religion.’ I call it ‘relationship beliefs.’ ”

“I expect your pa wanted you to go into the ice business.”

Tucker nodded. If that had been their only roadblock, he probably would’ve found a way through it.

“I have that joke for you, Mr. Tucker,” Abraham said as he climbed out of the wagon.

“He may not be of a mind for one right now, son.”

Tucker met his friend’s gaze. “The Good Book says there is a time to mourn and a time to laugh. I think now might be a good time for laughter.”

“Does that mean I can tell my joke?” Abraham’s dark eyes twinkled like polished jewels.

Otis nodded and Abraham straightened to his full height. The boy cleared his throat. “What did the ice say to the lake?”

Tucker glanced at Otis, who shrugged.

“Freeze. I got you covered.”

Tucker pictured a block of ice wearing a gun belt and started chuckling. Within seconds all three of them were laughing and drawing the attention of the dock workers around them. When they’d settled down, Otis grunted as he hoisted another block onto the wagon. “What’ll you do about the ice company?”

“It’s all my parents have, but it’s not enough to pay the bills. The pittance I’ve been able to earn as a preacher isn’t enough to support the whole family.” Tucker hopped down from the wagon and into the railcar. “I don’t know what I should do.”

“This town’s gettin’ to be a regular city. Lots more businesses.” Otis wiped his brow with his red bandanna. “More folks with money for iceboxes movin’ in. With just one wagon, we’re only supplying about ten businesses a day—a lot of them the same ones. If we could grow the business—”

“We’d need more wagons and horses. More men.”

“I could drive a wagon, Mr. Tucker.”

Tucker had no doubt that Abraham could do so as well as most men and leave the customers charmed while he was at it. “One day, but it’s still a little early for that.” He returned his attention to Otis. “We’d also need an icehouse to store enough ice for the city’s year-round needs. That’s the only way we can keep the ice company alive.”

Tucker scraped the tongs along the edges of a block of ice until he had a good grip. Then he slid the block out of the ice car and into the wagon.

Otis stuffed his red bandanna in his back pocket. “And what about iceboxes?”

“You could sell lots of ’em to the rich folks.” Abraham drew a generous circle with his arms.

“I like the way you two think. Hopefully, the banker will too. I’ll talk
to one this week about a loan.” Tucker slid another block out of the rail car, and Otis hoisted it into place.

Icehouse. Seminary. Appointment as a circuit preacher at camp meetings. Now it seemed he’d come full circle … back to the life he’d walked away from. And the duration of this detour depended upon the banker.

FIVE

da’s new landlady walked into the parlor, carrying a tray laden with cups and goodies. Ida scooted forward on the sofa and pushed a worn Bible to one side of the sofa table, clearing a space large enough for the silver platter.