Behind His Blue Eyes (6 page)

A generous arrangement, Ethan thought.

But first, they had to finish the project.

Leaving Renny tied to a sapling beside Brodie's big sorrel, Ethan wandered along the sluice—an open trough with two twenty-inch-wide boards nailed in the shape of a
V
, supported by regularly spaced wooden ribs with crosspieces over the top to keep the sides from spreading. It wouldn't be watertight, but once the boards swelled with moisture, it would seal well enough. Besides, with a constant water supply, leakage wasn't an issue.

He was glad to see they were using fir and cedar. Pine could be knotty and softer woods weren't as resistant to rot. The supports holding up the trough looked solid, and the cross-bracing seemed substantial enough to eliminate sway once water was running through the sluice. He noted no evidence of shoddy workmanship that would make the structure especially vulnerable in a rock slide.

Ahead, he saw a middle-aged man and an adolescent, who was probably his son, working beside a stack of logs. Both wore the ragged homespun clothing and tattered slouch hats Ethan had seen on many a prospector. Since the sluice was a town project and not part of the bridge line, most of the labor was local, rather than Chinese, who worked exclusively for the railroad. Another boost to the Heartbreak Creek economy.

But neither of these workers looked particularly happy.

“Afternoon,” he said, stopping beside them.

The older fellow paused in his sawing. The younger continued skinning a thick log with a two-handled bark stripper.

Introductions were brief and without enthusiasm.

Keeping his tone friendly, Ethan asked if they knew anything about the recent landslide.

“Warn't our fault,” the boy blurted out. “That's what we know.”

The man, who had introduced himself as Hopewell—an apt name for a prospector, Ethan thought—doffed his hat and swiped a dirty sleeve over his brow. “Nine sections. A week's work, tangled up at the bottom of the ravine like a pile of them eating sticks the Chi-nee use.”

“Do rockfalls happen often?”

Hopewell put the hat back on his head, and looked Ethan square in the eye. “With help, maybe.”

“Why do you say that?”

“We send crews ahead to check for loose rocks. 'Specially ones big enough to do damage or hurt somebody. Me and the boy walked that ridge ourselves, and we didn't see nothing that could come down on its own.”

Ethan digested that. “You think someone intentionally caused the slide?”

“Maybe.” Anger flashed in the man's weathered face. “But it warn't us. That's all I know.”

“You tell anyone about this?”

“No time. Nobody seemed interested, anyway. Too busy pointing fingers.”

“Well,” Ethan said with a smile, “we're interested now.”

Waving an arm to get his attention, Ethan motioned Brodie over. When he arrived, Hopewell told his story again. The sheriff posed a few more questions, then nodded his thanks and let the workers get back to their tasks.

“You think what he says has merit?” Ethan asked as they headed back to where the horses were tied.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Only one way to find out.”

They rode on up the canyon to the site of the destruction, and dismounting, walked the area. Not much to see—a pile of loose stones and uprooted vegetation shoveled aside so the supports could be reset, and a few broken timbers scattered in the creek running along the bottom of the ravine. All the salvageable lumber had already been hauled out and used in the repairs.

Hands braced on his hips, Ethan scanned the slope rising above him. He could clearly see the path of the rockfall. But the longer he studied it, the more it seemed that either it had split near the top or there were two points of origin. Two separate falls—in the same area—at the exact same time? Hardly.

He turned to Brodie, who was also studying the slope. “There were two slides,” he said, and pointed. “Quite a coincidence, don't you think?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“I'm going up for a closer look.”

“Head right. I'll go left.”

Moving through brush on either side of the chute, they struggled up the steep incline. It was rough going. Twice Ethan slipped on loose rocks, and once almost ripped open his hand when he grabbed a thorny shrub by mistake. By the time he reached the top, winded and sweating, he'd developed a new respect for Hopewell and his son. And a deep regret that he hadn't brought his canteen.

It didn't take long to figure out what had happened. The two slides were about thirty yards apart. The starting point for each was a deep depression in the earth near the top. The kind of depression a big boulder might make . . . before it was shoved or pried out of its resting place and sent crashing down the slope, gathering stones and brush along the way, until it finally slammed into the sluice and sent nine sections of it sliding into the ravine.

Ethan hunkered beside a long pole that had probably been used to pry the boulder loose. Picking up a small stick, he carefully lifted aside a leafy twig and studied the loose dirt. “Tracks. Human and horse. One shod, one not, although the footprints could be from a moccasin. Indian, you think?”

The sheriff bent beside him, studied the prints, then straightened. “I better get Thomas on this. If any redskins are moving through this canyon, he'll soon know how many, which tribe, and what they ate for breakfast.”

Scanning the ground for more prints, he left Ethan and walked over to where the other slide had originated.

At a sound, Ethan looked across the ravine.
Speak of the devil,
he thought when he saw a man on a spotted pony heading back to Heartbreak Creek. Bouncing along behind him was a familiar boxy, black buggy.

Audra and Redstone had been at the cabin all day? Alone?

He tossed the stick aside and rose. “Let's go,” he called over to the sheriff. “By the look of the sun, it's almost five. And you know what that means.”

Brodie gave him a questioning look.

“Your wife?”

“Oh, hell.”

Six

O
n that first tour with Nurse Eckhart of the structure at Salty Point, Ethan had soon realized it was more like a prison than a hospital. Built in eighteen fifty to benefit sick, infirm, or elderly sailors who had nowhere else to go, it housed several wards of men from countries all over the world.

Nurse Eckhart was right. It was a sad place. Ethan could almost feel the despair hanging over the long rows of beds.

“It must be intolerable,” she said in a soft voice as they walked through the wards. “Men who have spent most of their lives surrounded by a limitless horizon, now condemned to these four walls with barely a window to look out of.”

Ethan had noticed that. The gloom was almost palpable. And whenever they could, men had left their beds to stand at the windows, staring blankly at the shimmering sea stretching below them.

“Do you think more windows would help?” he asked.

“Immeasurably. And more beds. And more storage. And a gathering place with a view of the ocean. Can you do all that?”

Ethan nodded, plans and drawings already forming in his mind. “I can try.”

“Indeed?” She had studied him for a moment, those remarkable eyes as full of secrets as the smile teasing her lips. “I appreciate a man with the courage to try new things. And I'll do whatever I can to help. Come to my room this evening, and we'll discuss it.” Then she had walked away, taking a small part of his heart with her.

* * *

The morning after her visit to the cabin, Audra was escorting her charges into the hotel dining room for breakfast when a voice called her name. Pausing in the doorway, one hand on Father's arm, she glanced back to see a blond woman with lovely green eyes and a reserved smile walking toward her.

“I'm the owner of the hotel,” the woman said, stopping beside her. “Yancey told me you had arrived.”

Wondering if Curtis and Winnie were about to be refused service, Audra braced herself for a scene.

Instead, the woman held out a slim hand. “Lucinda Rylander. Welcome to the hotel and to Heartbreak Creek.”

Ah. That Rylander.
Warily, Audra gave the cool fingers a brief squeeze then released them. “Thank you.”

“You may have received our correspondence about the right-of-way across your land?”

“I have. I also spoke to Mr. Hardesty about it yesterday.”

“Did you reach an agreement?”

“We are in negotiations.”

“I see.” The smile started to fade. “Are there any questions I might answer for you?”

“Mr. Hardesty was very thorough and—”

A fluttery motion with one hand cut her off. “I hate to be so forward about this, Miss Pearsall. But until the issue is settled, the railroad can't proceed, and—” She must have sensed Audra's resistance, because she caught herself, then appeared to deflate when she released a deep breath. “Forgive me. I shouldn't be pressing you about this so early in the morning. It's just . . .” She hesitated, then seemed to reach a decision. “Will you join me for breakfast, Miss Pearsall? I promise not to badger you, but I would love to hear your side of the issue.” This time the smile was warm and genuine.

Audra glanced at Winnie and Curtis, unsure what to do. Not all restaurants openly welcomed people of color, and without Audra there to smooth the way, it might create an unpleasant situation.

“Where's Mary?” Father asked. “She said she would bring the papers.”

Winnie patted his arm in reassurance. “Not to worry, Mr. Percy. She be along soon.” Turning to Audra, she said, “We fine eating with Mr. Percy upstairs, if Mrs. Rylander, here, don't mind sending up some plates?”

Mrs. Rylander nodded. “Of course. If that's what you prefer. But we have a table by the window with a lovely view of the creek that might be more pleasant, Mrs. . . . ?”

Winnie straightened, her chin coming up a notch. “Abraham. Winnie Abraham.” With great dignity, she extended her hand.

Without hesitation, Mrs. Rylander took it.

“And this here's my husband, Curtis.”

Mrs. Rylander shook his hand, too. “Mr. Abraham.”

Any reservations Audra might have felt about the woman immediately dissipated. Slipping an arm around Father's shoulders, she concluded the introductions. “And this is my father, Percival Pearsall.” Relieved to see kindness rather than pity in Mrs. Rylander's expression, she smiled. “And I think he would enjoy the window table immensely.”

“Will Mary be there? She's not usually so late.”

“She on her way, Mr. Percy.”

Soon they were all seated—the Abrahams and Father at a corner table by the window, Audra and Mrs. Rylander at a smaller table nearby. Before their coffee had arrived, she and Lucinda Rylander were on a first name basis.

“Who is Mary?” Lucinda asked, pouring cream into her cup.

“My mother. She died twenty years ago. But Father . . . is unwell.”

“I'm sorry to hear it.”

“He's gotten so much worse over the last year. That's one of the reasons we came here. I'd like for his last days to be peaceful ones.” Audra explained about Father's tendency to wander, and that because of it, she had grave concerns about having a rail line pass so close to the cabin. “If I were to accept Mr. Hardesty's generous offer, I would have to move to a place more suitable for Father. And with the added expense of rent, any money received from granting the right-of-way would soon run out.”

Lucinda listened without interruption, her elbow propped on the armrest of her chair and one long finger gently tapping her lower lip. Audra could almost see ideas and solutions bouncing behind those intense green eyes.

“And what if he were to offer you rent-free housing, as well?”

Audra hesitated. She knew she was being prideful and hardheaded, but the idea of becoming an object of charity, or being beholden to strangers—especially Ethan Hardesty—was repugnant to her. She treasured her independence and guarded it zealously. That was the reason she had refused Richard, being unwilling to marry a man she didn't love just for the sake of security.

She had managed so far. God willing, she would continue to do so.

Buying time to consider her response, she took a sip of coffee, then returned the china cup to its saucer. “I am currently seeking employment,” she said in the spirit of compromise. “If I find something that will produce enough income to support the four of us, I will be happy to consider Mr. Hardesty's offer. Until then, I have no choice but to stay at the cabin.”

“Then we must find you employment. I assume you can read and write?”

And have won awards for it,
Audra thought, biting back a smile. “Yes. I'm competent with sums, as well.”

A sudden smile lit Lucinda's face, one so broad it left a dimple in her left cheek. “Then I have the perfect opportunity for you, although I won't know for certain if it's available for another week or so.”

“That's very kind. Thank you.” But wanting to make her position clear, Audra added in a firm tone, “But until the issue of employment is settled, I shall hold off on a decision about the right-of-way and do what I must to make the cabin a suitable home for the four of us.”

“I understand.” Lucinda laughed, apparently undeterred by Audra's gentle warning. “And I won't badger you again about signing the papers, even though I'm certain it will all work out. But be forewarned”—she gave a sly wink—“I usually get my way. Ask my husband.”

She was so brazen about it, Audra had to laugh. “I'm certain you do.”

Reaching across the table, Lucinda gave Audra's hand, which rested beside her plate, a squeeze. “I sense we are going to be great friends, you and I.”

“I would like that.” Audra meant it. Since Father's illness, she had let most of her friendships lapse, and dearly missed the companionship of women.

Chuckling, Lucinda sat back. “I can't wait for the other ladies to meet you. They'll adore you for resisting my manipulations.”

“What other ladies?”

“The ladies of Heartbreak Creek. And a formidable group they are.”

* * *

It took less time than Audra expected to bring the cabin up to snuff, especially after Lucinda and Yancey arrived several days later with a wagon full of household goods, including furniture, bags of bedding, and kitchen stuffs.

“Ethan said the cabin was rather Spartan,” she said, climbing down from the wagon when Audra and the Abrahams came out to greet her. “After the renovations at the hotel, I find I no longer need all this and thought it might be of use to you.”

Audra was so grateful, she almost burst into tears. “Thank you so much. I shall return everything as soon as I am able to purchase my own.”

“Nonsense.” A dismissive gesture with one elegantly gloved hand. “It takes up valuable storage space. You're doing me a favor taking it off my hands. Yancey, while I visit with Miss Pearsall, perhaps you and Mr. Abraham can carry these items inside. I'm sure Mrs. Abraham can tell you where to put them.”

Winnie grinned. “Yes, ma'am, I surely can.” Turning to the men, she waved a fleshy arm. “Get on with it, you two. And keep quiet. Mr. Percy and Cleo napping.”

As the men began unloading, Lucinda looked around, a small crease of worry between her blond brows. “It's rather remote, isn't it?”

Audra followed her gaze. Tall trees cast the cabin in perpetual shadow. Brushy undergrowth, desperate for sun, encroached on the small clearing, and here and there, snow still showed through the tangle of leaves. The air was constantly chilled. The ground felt damp and spongy underfoot, and the wooden shingles on the roof were covered in a thick layer of moss. By summer, mosquitoes would be eating them alive.

“It's certainly not Baltimore,” Audra admitted with a thin smile.

“Don't fret.” Lucinda patted her arm. “While we await word on that employment opportunity I mentioned, we'll find a better place. This is horrid.”

Horrid, yes. And lonely, and gloomy, and beyond rustic.

But it was also peaceful, and much safer for Father than living on a busy city street. And it was hers. Until the mosquitoes came, she could live with that.

By the end of the first week, the cabin was livable. The Abrahams took the curtained alcove off the main room. Audra and Father took the second room, which Audra furnished with two small, slightly battered hotel beds separated by a long curtain to give the illusion of privacy. It was a struggle to fit four adults and a dog into such a small house, but they managed.

Several days later, when Audra was picking up supplies at the mercantile, Lucinda popped in to invite the four of them to dinner at the hotel. Apparently, it was a tradition among the “ladies” and their families to dine together after Sunday church services.

“It will be a boisterous crowd, as always.” Lucinda counted off the attendees other than her husband, herself, and Audra's four. “The sheriff and his wife—Declan and Edwina Brodie. They'll bring their five children—a new baby and four by Declan's first marriage, and a rowdy group if there ever was one. Prudence Lincoln, Edwina's half-black half sister will be there—her last gathering until she leaves for Indiana in a few days. Thomas Redstone will accompany her if he's not off tracking whoever is causing all the problems with the sluice. The Wallaces aren't back from Texas yet—Angus is a Scottish earl and Maddie is an English lady—they're on a photography expedition. What does that come to? Fifteen? Oh, and Mr. Hardesty will be joining us, too. That makes sixteen.”

Audra's reservations must have shown on her face.

Lucinda chuckled. “It won't be as bad as it sounds. Especially since my guardian, Mrs. Throckmorton, and her two companions are away in Denver until next month. That cantankerous old dear can turn any gathering upside down.”

“But so many people . . .” Since Father's illness, Audra had avoided social gatherings, and until the trip here, he had rarely left the house except for an occasional buggy ride in the park. “I'm not sure Father—”

“He'll be fine. Certainly less disruptive than the younger Brodie children, who, fortunately, will be at another table.”

“What about Winnie and Curtis?”

“What about them?” Lucinda's smile gave way to a frown. “Surely you're not thinking that because they're Negros they won't be welcome?”

“Well . . .”

Lucinda gave a derisive snort—which was unsettling, coming from such a serene-looking woman. “We're the last people to cast stones, Audra. Heavens, you'll be sharing a meal with an Irish orphan who lived in a brothel, a Cheyenne Dog Soldier, several unruly children, a near-mute sheriff, a rather emotional Southerner, her stunning mulatto half sister, and a man who was once hanged and later fought for money. Do you truly think the addition of a couple of Africans will make a difference?” She laughed heartily at the notion.

Audra blinked at her. “Who lived in a brothel?”

“Never mind. Just meet us at the hotel at ten on Sunday. We'll all walk to church together, weather permitting.”

A parade of misfits off to worship the Lord. Add a muttering old man and a woman experienced in forgery and fraud, and the farce would be complete.

* * *

Sunday dawned clear and sunny—although Audra wasn't entirely certain of that until the buggy broke out of the trees and rolled into sunshine. The air grew pleasantly warm, lacking the blustery winds that had moaned through the eaves during the previous few days, and the chill that had seeped into her bones since they had moved into the gloomy cabin finally began to fade.

She was ready for an outing. Judging by the other smiling faces in the buggy, they were all looking forward to a day away from their cramped quarters.

Hoping to prepare them—and herself—for the day ahead, Audra related to the Abrahams what Lucinda had told her about the other guests.