Eleanora (The Widows 0f Wildcat Ridge Book 8) Page 7

  He nodded. “A shame.”

  “Yes.”

  A moment passed. His expression had turned thoughtful while he stood there, watching her. “Your information has given me a start, Eleanora. I have a better idea of what kind of man he is.”

  “A start? I fear he has more secrets than a leopard has spots, Reed. You won’t have nearly enough time to uncover them all before you must leave.”

  He hesitated, the barest of moments. “I promise I’ll put my time here to good use.”

  “Hmm.” Did he really think two days would be enough to complete his investigation and compile his report? She didn’t bother to hide her skepticism. “Well. Unless you need something from me, we’d best go to our rooms. Dawn will be here before we know it.”

  “Certainly. Breakfast?”

  “Eight o’clock. Unless you prefer earlier?”

  “Not at all.” His dark eyes glittered with a charm that skated through her blood. “I look forward to seeing you then.”

  She didn’t dare say the same, though it was true and the words were waiting on her tongue. Defying her to speak them.

  But to do so would be completely improper and leave her open to even more disappointment after he left. Still, as she padded barefoot from the kitchen, hearing Reed’s footsteps on the stairs taking him to his room, she quietly entered hers, closing the door behind her.

  The soft glow of a lamp on the dresser showed Tessa still sleeping. Eleanora stole a moment of quiet and leaned her head back against the door. Her mind filled with images of Reed Shannon, and suddenly, tomorrow morning seemed a lifetime away.

  Reed strode down Front Street toward Hester Fugit’s office. The morning air filled his lungs with clean freshness and his ears with the sound of only the occasional buck wagon rumbling down the street. No factory smells, no belching puffs of coal-thickened steam to stain the sky, no clatter of iron horse hooves over brick streets. The differences between Wildcat Ridge and Denver continued to amaze him.

  And not in a bad way.

  But as he approached City Hall, he banked the thought before he could explore it further. He entered the building, and Mayor Hester glanced up from her desk, blinked at him then appeared to remember who he was. She stood.

  “Reed Shannon,” she said. “Good morning. You’re right on time.”

  “A few minutes early, actually.” He removed his bowler and took her plump hand into his. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. It means we can get our meeting started that much sooner.” She indicated a chair in front of her desk. “Please, sit. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

  He patted his stomach. “No, thanks. Had plenty at breakfast. Belly’s still full, in fact.”

  She regarded him with a knowing look. “Eleanora cooked for you at the Crane?”

  “She did.” Waking up to the smell of brewing coffee and frying bacon had gotten him out of bed and dressed in a hurry. Sharing the meal with Eleanora and Tessa, just the three of them in the hotel’s dining room, started his day on a pleasant note, for sure.

  “An excellent cook, she is,” the mayor said. “Ask her to make her rhubarb cobbler for you sometime. She’s known for it around here.”

  “I will.”

  But the words were no sooner out than Reed realized their futility. He’d be leaving in a couple of days, hardly enough time to make any special requests from Eleanora’s kitchen.

  “Oh, lawsy, lawsy.” Cheeks pale, Hester stood abruptly. “Pardon me. My stomach is not right, and this talk of food...”

  She pressed a handkerchief to her mouth and rushed from the desk into another room to retch, leaving Reed staring after her in concern. What made her sick all of a sudden?

  She was gone long enough for Reed’s attention to drift toward a bulletin board near the front door. In prominent view hung a poster announcing the scavenger hunt Eleanora had been tasked with organizing. He’d have to make time to think on it, maybe give her a few ideas to get her going...

  Eventually, Hester returned to her chair, settling her squat body on the seat, her coloring recovered. She set a glass of water and a few soda crackers on the desk top, eyes downcast, as if she was embarrassed at what she’d done.

  “Feeling better?” he asked. “I can run for the doctor if you need one.”

  “Lawsy, no. I’m fine.” She clasped her hands, once again all business. “Now, tell me what you need from me.”

  Since she did, indeed, seem fine as best as he could tell, Reed turned businesslike, too. “I wanted to inform you of my intentions in coming to Wildcat Ridge. As an attorney for the Miners Association, it’s my job to keep the miners’ interests first and foremost.”

  “Which will prove difficult since the miners—our husbands and loved ones—are dead.”

  “Yet, their widows remain in Wildcat Ridge.”

  “Not so many anymore, I’m afraid. Quite a few have left to return to their families.”

  “Unfortunate, but understandable.”

  “Wildcat Ridge is suffering from the loss.”

  “Yes.” The boarded-up and vacant buildings, the almost-empty streets and mostly-deserted boardwalks attested to her declaration. “My goal is to hold Mortimer Crane accountable,” he said. “Perhaps we can reverse the loss.”

  “Hrmmph! He’s as slimy as a slug. You won’t be able to hold him to anything.”

  Reed smiled with no humor. “Don’t underestimate me, Mayor.”

  Her gaze sharpened. “Oh?”

  “My first step will be to ride out to the mine to determine if his management—or lack thereof—could be responsible for the fire and explosions.”

  “You won’t find anything out there. There’s nothing left but char and destruction. We couldn’t even excavate all the bodies. Most of those we could were burned beyond recognition.”

  Reed grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

  “We’ll likely never know what caused the cave-in, but you can be assured faulty shoring was part of it. Crane never spared an extra penny to keep the mine safe for his men. It was common knowledge that if he could cut corners, he did.”

  “A troublesome occurrence among many mine owners, unfortunately.”

  She sniffed her disdain. “Well, he was the worst. If our husbands were still alive, they’d swear he was.”

  Reed inclined his head. She spoke so fiercely, he had no reason not to believe her.

  “He never trusted the men who worked for him, either,” she continued. “What kind of mine owner despises the very people who risk their lives to make him rich?”

  “Can you give me an example, Mayor? This lack of trust you mention?”

  “For starters, he had a special room built near the entrance of the mine and required the men to change their clothes before entering. For those he might think particularly untrustworthy, he instructed his shift bosses to force them to jump up and down naked in case they were hiding gold in their private parts.” She huffed. “If you know what I mean.”

  Reed didn’t know if he should be shocked or amused. “Seems extreme, doesn’t it?”

  “And then there were the secret shifts. He had his favorite miners, those who were loyal to him, and he’d get them to work all night. He never allowed them to speak about what they were doing or why, but Eleanora’s husband was one of them.”

  “Darvin Cavender?” Reed’s brow rose.

  “Yes. Him and his crony, Cuddy Wortman. Leastways, that’s what my Henry told me.”

  He made a mental note to ask Eleanora about it.

  Mayor Fugit studied him hard. “Our town is desperate, I’m afraid. We’ve got a horse auction coming up and another project I’m not at liberty to speak of at the moment. We hope to bring in some money, but—”

  She halted, a sudden sheen of tears in her eyes.

  “But you worry it might not be enough,” he said, his tone gentle.

  “Yes,” she said. “So many have left already.”

  Like Eleanora, the mayor laid a heavy burden on
his shoulders. The responsibility to save the town, to hold Mortimer Crane accountable for their losses... hell, could he do it? Could he succeed?

  He drew in a deep breath, straightening his stance in his chair. “Can you do something for me, Mayor?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Make me a list of every miner’s widow in Wildcat Ridge. First and last names of both, if you will.”

  She took a pencil and noted his request on paper. “I’ll have it for you tomorrow. Anything else?”

  “Later, I’m sure, but collecting the names will be a good start. Might ask more of you once I’ve had a look at the mine.”

  “I hope it won’t be a waste of your time.” The mayor set her pencil down. “I can recommend a judge if you need one.”

  He stood. “Hopefully, I will, yes.”

  “One more thing.” She stood, too.

  “Name it.”

  “On your way out to the Gold King, stop by the Cavender cabin. As a favor to me, if you will.”

  “Eleanora’s?” He didn’t try to hide his surprise.

  “There’s a reason why she’s living at the Crane Hotel, but she’s not saying. She loves that cabin, always has, since Darvin brought her out here, but she claims the place was too damaged after the explosions. Might be true. I haven’t ridden out there myself to know for sure, but buildings can be fixed, and she’s not making the effort. That hotel is no place for a child, especially with Mortimer Crane coming and going any time he takes a notion.”

  With a floozy late at night, no less. Wasn’t right Eleanora had to live with that, protecting her daughter from witnessing anything untoward and hiding in alcoves to keep herself from being seen, too.

  “I will,” he said, his tone grave. “I’d be curious myself.”

  “Thank you. I got a bad feeling about her being there in that hotel, let me tell you.”

  Hadn’t he had his own suspicions? A gut-sense she was hiding something?

  “If Crane is guilty of anything criminal, could be beneficial to my investigation against him,” he said, thoughtful.

  But damn, time was ticking, and how could he get everything done in the short amount of time he had left? Like a simmering volcano, urgency built within him.

  Her mouth pursed. “Just what I was thinking.”

  He took his bowler and settled it on his head. “I’d best get going, then.”

  “You’ll need a horse,” she said. “Can you find the livery?”

  “Know right where it is.” He headed toward the door, his mind filling with a sudden need for a new change of clothes, too.

  “Glad you’re here, Reed,” she said. “I look forward to hearing what you find out.”

  She spoke with enough gratitude to humble him. And worry him, too. She had no idea how easily he could fail. Bracing himself for the responsibility that grew heavier with every moment, he left.

  Chapter 9

  Favor or not, his pure and growing curiosity compelled Reed to stop at the Cavender cabin on his way out to the Gold King Mine. If the mayor was to be believed—and he had no reason to think she wasn’t—the mine’s reputed widespread destruction would yield little of interest to benefit his investigation. He’d have to make that determination himself, of course, and he would. Later. After he satisfied this burning need to know more about Eleanora’s home and the life she lived before the explosion.

  He found the rustic structure easily enough. Set back from the road and nestled in the woods, surrounded by cottonwoods and ponderosa pines, its location appeared chosen for shelter from the strong Utah Territory winds. Looked real picturesque, too, if he ignored the tall grasses growing in the yard and the patch of ground that likely served as a garden, now overrun with weeds.

  Damned shame how the place looked abandoned and unloved.

  Which it had been, of course. Abandoned.

  But the loved part was there once. Flower boxes graced the lower edges of a double-wide window on one side of the wooden door, a single-wide one on the other. Had Darvin built them so Eleanora could plant flowers? Did he aim to please her? Make her happy, like a husband would do out of love for his wife?

  The thought twisted through him. He refused to define it as jealousy, but more of a longing. A regret, maybe, that he didn’t have the chance to do something similar for his own wife.

  Not that Myrna would have wanted anything of the sort. She wasn’t much for nurturing, plants or otherwise. Children included. Her love and energy went into activism for the causes she’d embraced, and well, two women couldn’t have been more different.

  Myrna and Eleanora. Why was he comparing them, anyway?

  Setting his teeth, he dismounted from the gelding, who seemed a mite lazy and more interested in grazing on all that grass than carrying Reed down the road toward the Gold King Mine. Reed looped the reins around the saddle horn and told him not to wander off, assuring him he wouldn’t be long. Just wanted to take a nosy look around and satisfy that curiosity running strong within him.

  Save for a twitching of ears, the horse seemed agreeable, and Reed strode through the grass toward the cabin. A single, low-growing mock orange bush needed pruning but had leafed out nice and green, budding freely alongside a narrow porch. A weathered chair sat near the door; on the seat, two figurines that had been whittled out of wood.

  They’d be Tessa’s, he guessed, picking one up. She must’ve forgotten about them when they moved into town. Both were crudely carved but in the shape of horses. Or maybe cows. He couldn’t tell for sure, and not that it mattered, leastways to a child with an imagination like she had.

  A corner of his mouth lifted. She could entertain herself for a good long while with only sticks of peppermint candy, couldn’t she? He’d be sure to bring these back for her. She’d like the surprise and something new to play with.

  Tucking both into his coat pocket, he moved closer to the double window. Only now did he see that the glass had cracked, same as with the single window. No doubt both had suffered from the explosion, and the panes looked precarious. A good, strong wind blowing at the right angle would send the glass flying inward, leaving shards everywhere. Their replacement couldn’t come soon enough.

  He cupped his hands to shade his eyes and peered in, taking care not to touch the glass. Eleanora had left all her furniture, few pieces that there were. A couch built for two, a kitchen table and chairs, and a few rugs strewn about the floor. Strange that there was a plate and coffee cup on the table, though. Wasn’t like her to leave her kitchen untidy, but she might have been forced to leave in a hurry.

  His perusal lingered on the floor. Unless the early afternoon sun played tricks on him, the wooden slats looked buckled. Which meant the cabin had likely shifted off its foundation, and that right there made the cabin unsafe to live in.

  He stepped off the porch and hunkered down to study the cabin’s footings. Jagged cracks marred the concrete, and they’d need some fixing to be able to carry the cabin’s weight with any degree of stability.

  He rose, stepped back onto the porch and strode toward the door. Going inside would afford him a better idea of damages, too, but before he could lift the latch, the tall grass rustled. Not from behind him where he’d left his horse, but off to the side a ways. From around the cabin.

  He froze.

  “Get away from that door, mister,” a gravelly voice ordered. “Put your hands up, too.”

  Never occurred to Reed not to do what he was told. He eased away, lifted both arms and kept his hands high. After a slow turn toward the voice, his heart lurched.

  A long, unkempt beard and a wide-brimmed hat that was years away from being new all but hid the face of the man holding a shotgun. He eyed Reed with an animosity that warned he’d shoot, and he wouldn’t need much of a reason before he did.

  “I’m not armed,” Reed said. “Don’t even own a gun, if that’s any consolation.”

  “What’re you doing out here?” He adjusted his weapon. “I ain’t standing for no looters.” />
  Reed shook his head. “Not here to do anything of the sort. Name’s Reed Shannon. I’m with the Miners Association.”

  The man stiffened. “What’d you say?”

  “I’m in town to investigate the explosion at the Gold King Mine.”

  An eye narrowed beneath the dirty hat brim. “Yeah? What if I don’t believe you?”

  “Then that’d be unfortunate because it’s the truth.”

  “All right. Answer me this. Where’s the headquarters of the Association?”

  Reed kept his features impassive, but the question threw him. Understandable the man would want to test him, but he hadn’t expected the subject matter. “Denver.”

  “Who’s the president of the union?”

  “James Martin Wheeler.”

  “I’ll be damned.” The shotgun lowered. “You an investigator?”

  “Attorney. I file cases against mine owners in defense of the miners.”

  He scowled. “About time you got here, then. What took you so long?”

  Reed didn’t bother to explain how Eleanora’s letters got him here. “Mind if I put my hands down?”

  “Go on. But I’m a good shot, just so you know.”

  “I’d be a fool not to respect your abilities.” Arms lowered, Reed smiled.

  Beneath bushy brows, a beady-eyed stare fastened onto him. “You talk smooth like you’re from the big city, all right.”

  “I’m guessing you mined for Crane?”

  “I did, yep.”

  “But you weren’t working the day of the explosions.”

  “Oh, you’re a smart one. If I was, I’d be dead about now, wouldn’t I?” Despite his retort, sadness shadowed the weathered expression. “Lost plenty of friends that day. Darvin was one of my best.”

  “Darvin Cavender?”

  “Yep. We was like brothers. I quit the week before the mine blew. I tried to talk him into quitting, too, but he wasn’t ready yet.”