An Unexpected Widow (The Colorado Brides Series) (4 page)

“I understand. We’ll concentrate on one vice at a time. Hopefully, we can bring in new members.”

“I have to get back. Frank’s waiting for me. Let me say goodbye proper, and then I’ll be on my way.”

“It’s unfortunate you can’t stay longer.”

“You’re more than welcome to my house whenever you can stop by. We could have a sewing day, and I can read you some of my letters. My sister Louisa pens the funniest things.”

“That sounds marvelous.”

I said my goodbyes and met Frank at the church, where he’d been in conversation with several businessmen. They had taken up the front pews, while Frank stood before them with his thumbs in his pockets. It struck me then just how handsome my husband was and how good he was to me, spoiling me so beautifully. I couldn’t wait to get home and loosen my corset, whilst cuddling with him on the sofa. It was one of our favorite Sunday activities. The sooner we were on the road, the better.

Days later, I had begun to regret my decision to join Adaline, Rhoda, and Sally in our secret temperance movement. I feared exposing myself in town, especially to coarse men, but, perhaps, the pamphlet would make some of them think about the dangers of alcohol. If they were aware, perhaps they might abstain. I’d told Frank that I needed to go to town to check the mail, as we would not be able to on Friday. He was helping some neighbors assemble a barn, and that was the only day they could all come together for the project.

As we were driving into the city, I cast surreptitious glances at Frank, worried that he might suspect I was up to something, but he prattled on about this and that, wanting to check the post office and see if there had been any responses to the notice he had posted. Anxious to get the bunkhouse completed and work started on the fields, he seemed more tense than usual. After he had dropped me off at the mercantile, I encountered Sally behind the counter.

“Oh, good! You made it.”

“I suppose. I hope I don’t get in trouble for this.”

“Why on earth would you?”

“Frank won’t like it.”

“We’ll hand out the pamphlets and be on our way.”

I glanced at her dubiously. “I somehow doubt it’s going to be that easy.”

“Something must be done about the vagrancy in the city. It’s gotten out of control. More miners come in every day, adding to the trouble.”

“Maybe if I lived here, I’d be as passionate about this as you are.”

“It’s a moral concern for everyone. Your husband should preach about it. I did see some miners in church. It might encourage them to behave.”

“I’ll mention it to him. It’s better left to the men to deal with anyhow. They’re responsible for law and order. It’s not something I should concern myself with.”

“Well, the way I see it,” she untied her apron, “is that we’re going to get the ball rolling. We’ll make a fuss, and then someone will take notice and bring the lawmen. These mining districts are hardly efficient for that type of thing. They turn their cheek mostly, unless someone’s shot outright.”

I was impatient to begin, wanting to hurry before Frank saw me outside the saloon. “When do we do this?”

“Right now.” She reached behind the counter, withdrawing a stack of yellow papers. “Here you are. These are yours.”

“Thank you.”

The bell on the door rang. “Hello, ladies,” said Rhoda Caldwell, wearing a pretty straw bonnet. “It’s time to spread the word about abstinence. I’m ready.” She held out a gloved hand. “Give me those papers.”

“Where’s Adaline?” I glanced into the street, as a covered wagon ambled by, led by a tired-looking horse.

“She’ll be here,” said Sally.

“Let’s start without her then. Samuel has patients until four, and I need to be home in time to fix supper.”

“Yes, we might as well.” The sooner I handed out the pamphlets, the better. The nervous knot that had settled in the pit of my stomach was a warning that I was about to do something I aught not to.

Chapter Four

The three of us marched up the street, garnering quite a bit of attention, as women were scarce in town, especially gently bred women. There was music from the saloon, laughter, and the clinking of glasses, as we took up positions out front, mindful to steer clear of the swinging doors. I stood at the base of the steps of the boardwalk, my bonnet protecting my face from the sun.

Rhoda and Sally were nearer to the doors, which saw a steady stream of men arriving, some tying their horses to the hitching post. I was careful not to step in anything foul, keeping my eyes lowered, while holding the pamphlets in a trembling hand.

“Good sir,” said Rhoda in a clear voice. “Won’t you take a moment to read this? It’s about the evils of alcohol.” He laughed, brushing against her, his boots clomping on the wooden boardwalk. “Well, that went nowhere,” she muttered.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” Adaline rushed towards us, her skirts flying out behind her. “Here, let me help.” She took a handful of pamphlets from Sally. “Where do I stand?”

“You can come by me,” said Sally.

A wagon approached, filled with miners; wide brimmed hats shaded their leathery faces. One by one they jumped from the wagon, approaching the saloon, keen on having a drink. Adaline managed to give away several pamphlets, while Rhoda was in conversation with a tall, blonde man, whose accent was European. I was far too timid to make small talk with strange men, and I found myself stepping away from the group, wanting to distance myself.

“What ya got there, lady?” asked a deep male voice behind me.

I spun around, meeting a startling blue gaze. This had been the man who had been ejected from the saloon the other day. “Um…here.” I shoved a pamphlet towards him. “Read this.”

He eyed the paper, the edges of his eyes crinkling. It was improper to look steadily at one, but I found myself doing just that. He was cleaner than the other miners, his clothing stitched neatly around the edges, not frayed. He had bathed recently, because the smell wasn’t overwhelming.

“Temperance and moderation?” He grinned, his gaze skimming over my face. “You’re hardly a deterrent to drinking, Mrs.?”

“Mrs. C-clark.”

“Knowing that you’re standing here, I might have to come more often.”

“Haven’t you a better hobby, sir?”

His smile was enormous, revealing white, yet slightly crooked teeth. “Why, yes I do.” He pointed to the establishment across the street. “When I’m not drinking, you can find me in there.”

I gasped. He had indicated the brothel. “I’m…speechless, sir.”

“I should apologize for that, but…oh, hell, it was fun.” He’d yet to stop staring at me, his expression teasing and far too intimate.

“Well, I’ve done my job today. I’ve given you that…paper. Good day, sir.”

“Is that all?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Aren’t you gonna lecture me about the evils of drinkin’?” He waited expectantly, a flicker of amusement glimmering in his eyes.

“It’s evil when women and children suffer, sir.”

He hadn’t anticipated that retort, his smile faltering. “I have to agree on that score.” He leaned in. “But there aren’t any women and children in the saloon.”

“No, of course not. They suffer after…after the drunken man comes home.”

“That would be…” he glanced at the paper…“the poverty and wife-beating part, eh?” The teasing grin was back.

“Yes, sir.”

“What do you recommend I do then, to save myself?”

“You could start by not drinking.”

“And?”

“Then you should go to church.”

Thick eyebrows shot up. “Church? Haven’t been to church in a good spell. Might burst into flames and such, if I did. I’m liable to burn the entire town down, seeing that all the buildings are wood.”

“You’re teasing me, sir…what is your name?”

He removed his hat, exposing a thick mane of dark hair. “Nathan Weaver at your service, ma’am.”

“Besides drinking and…that other hobby, what is your profession, sir?” I regretted asking this question, as it was far too personal, and why on earth did I care what he did?

The hat was back in place. He rubbed his chin, which was coated in short, dark hair. “I reckon I’m a bit of a gambler, ma’am. I’m mighty flattered by your interest in me.”

Ouf! The gall! “I’m hardly interested in the likes of you, Mr. Weaver. I only ask because maybe you might like to improve yourself.”

“And you think going to church will accomplish that?”

“It certainly can’t hurt.”

Again he neared, his voice lowering. “If you’ll let me sit beside you, I might consider it.”

I wasn’t sure what startled me more, the silky rich baritone of his voice or the shiver that went down my backbone, leaving me tingling in odd places. Utterly flustered, I faltered; whatever response I had been about to verbalize died in my throat.

“Hannah! What on earth are you doing?” Frank approached, his look stern, yet slightly amused. “What in the blazes is going on here? I leave for five minutes, and you’re…” he glanced at Mr. Weaver…“making all kinds of new friends.”

“I’m…this is…oh, dear.”

“You mustn’t fret, Pastor Clark,” said Adaline. “We’re the Women’s Christian Temperance League of Denver City. We’re doing our part to stop the abuse of alcohol and women.”

His mouth fell open. “Give me that.” Frank took a pamphlet out of my hand, reading it quickly. To my surprise, he began to laugh. “Oh, Hannah. What’ve these women talked you into?” He glanced at Mr. Weaver. “I’m sorry about that. I hope my wife wasn’t too annoying. I had no idea she was going to do this.” He held out his hand. “I’m Pastor Clark, by the way.”

“Nathan Weaver.”

Recognition lit Frank’s eyes. “
You
responded to my query. You and a fellow named Jerry Pratt.”

I glanced between my husband and Nathan, seeing men of similar height and build, although Nathan was bulkier. My husband needed fattening up.

“Yes, I did.”

“You’re looking for work?”

“I am. I found mining not to be…to my liking.”

“I need strong men to help build a bunkhouse and till a field for planting and such. I confess; I’m not much of a farmer. I’m a city boy, born and raised, but I want to make a go of it. I’ve got a hundred and twenty acres, most of it useable.” He smiled at me. “At least I think it is, once I kill off those darn prairie dogs.”

Nathan slid his hands into pockets. “I’m from Missouri. I’ve done my fair share of farming. I could see helping you out, sir, if you’d be willing to hire me.”

“You know this Pratt fellow?”

“I sure do. He’s a friend of mine.”

“Why don’t you come out to the house tomorrow, and we’ll talk about it.”

If my husband hired this man, he would be living on our property, no more than five feet from our home. I opened my mouth to object, but—

“I think I will. Then we can discuss wages and such.” Nathan glanced at me. “It might be time for me to…better myself.”

“I…we should talk about this, Frank,” I said. “I’m not sure I want strangers on our property.”

“I’ll be checking references, my dear. You needn’t worry about that.”

“But…they’re strangers.” I met Nathan’s stare and shivered. What worried me more than anything was the way I felt in his presence.

“Stop by the house tomorrow. It’s due east, about three miles away.”

“I’ll do that.” He tipped his hat. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Clark.”

“Sally Higgins!” someone shouted. “What are you doing here?” Her husband approached, his angry footsteps stomping on the dusty street. “What in Sam Hill is going on here?”

Frank took my arm, leading me away. “I think you’ve had enough fun for one afternoon, my dear.”

A lady never peers over her shoulder while walking down the street, but curiosity got the better of me, and I took one last look at Nathan. He watched me with a grin, his hands firmly in his pockets. The Christian Women’s Temperance League of Denver City had been disbanded for the afternoon; our efforts weren’t all that successful.

As Frank handed me up into the wagon, I said, “What about the barn tomorrow? I thought you were helping the Williams?”

He sat next to me, grasping the reins. “That’s been put off another week. I’m buying the lumber for the bunkhouse tomorrow. Looks like I’m finally in business.” He snapped the reins, shouting, “Yah!”

“Oh, Frank. I can’t believe you hired strangers, especially that man. He’s a drunkard.”

“He seemed perfectly sober to me.”

“That’s because I stopped him before he went into the saloon.”

“Yeah, about that, what are you women thinking? Why on earth would you be standing out there like that? You’ve had this planned for a while, haven’t you?”

“It…was Rhoda’s idea.”

He nodded. “She’s a firecracker, that one.”

“Something has to be done about the drunkenness in town.”

“Let the law handle that.”

“There is no law here.”

He sighed. “I’ll preach about moderation on Sunday. Will that make you happy, my dear?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I suppose.” Unease settled into my bones. Nothing good would come of having Nathan Weaver on our property. Nothing at all.

“Now, you want to tell me what you were doing protesting outside the saloon?”

“Not really.”

“If you want to improve things in town, why don’t we work on establishing a charity? Once our farm is up and running, we’ll have plenty of food left over to sell and to give away to poor folks.”

“We need to do something.” I glanced at the tents that spotted either side of the road. Miners lingered over cooking pots. “These men won’t stay here. They’ll leave as soon as the gold is exhausted.”

“But plenty will set down roots. We’re going to stay. I think it’s beautiful here. The winter might be rough, but it’s not unlivable. We have heat and shelter, and there’ll be plenty of food, come the harvest. It won’t be long before they declare this place the Colorado Territory. Might even happen as soon as next year.”

I glanced at him. “I didn’t really want to hand out those pamphlets. Sally and Adaline talked me into it.”

“I knew you’d never come up with something like that on your own. Those women are bad influences.” He grinned, amusement etched into the lines on either side of his mouth. “My meek little wife has taken up with troublemakers. What is this world coming to?”