Tall, Dark, and Determined (29 page)

L
acey took particular care preparing for dinner that night. The walking suit she'd worn earlier held more dust than fabric after hours spent shuffling items in the store. She'd taken it outside, flapping the skirts to release much of the debris, but henceforth the outfit would be worn strictly for work.

Tonight we're having a party!
Lacey wore the anticipation around her like a bubble bearing her toward happiness. How long had it been since she went to a celebration of any kind? She couldn't even remember with any certainty except that it was before news of the mine collapse. When she'd been told her brother died alongside the majority of his best workers.

At first, mourning protected her from having to attend social gatherings and smile through the staggering loss. But even when they received news of her brother's miraculous survival, she'd not taken the time to celebrate properly. Her brother waited, alone and unable to move, thousands of miles away. Festivities would have to wait until after she'd seen to the seemingly endless preparations necessary to join him.

And of course, once they arrived in Hope Falls, the onslaught of suitors turned everything on its ear once more. Besides, no one felt like celebrating Braden's survival once they realized the Braden they knew had been replaced by this belligerent, selfish dictator.
We mourned his death, but who would rejoice about the hash he's making over his life now?

Tonight they'd give Granger a cheery send-off and best wishes for his journey tomorrow. Lacey didn't envy the man—she'd heard enough of Twyler's ranting rambles to know she wouldn't care to spend days cooped up in a train car alongside him.

Beaver-tail soup took pride of place on the menu. Lacey had watched in the early hours of the morning, before daylight strengthened its hold on the town, as Evie began preparations. Those prized tails, thick flaps covered with protective cross-hatching, had begun to exude a sort of oil. This, Evie explained, made for part of its distinctively gamy flavor.

It didn't sound appetizing. It didn't look appetizing either. Not even after Evie plopped the things in her soup pots to eke out the most flavor. When she fished them back out to remove the underlying meat and bone, at least they weren't so slippery.
Ugh
. Lacey grimaced at the memory.
How that is supposed to make some mythically delicious meal is beyond me
.

For her part, she looked forward to a slice of one of the layered lemon cakes Evie spent most of the day baking. If she did say so herself, Lacey thought she'd done a superior job icing the treats with sweet-cream frosting. The dessert, if not the much-prized soup, would be both delicious and beautiful.

She tugged free another golden ringlet to better frame her face and decided she was ready. The maroon-striped sateen evening dress, though laughably simple when compared to ball gowns she wore back in Charleston, was ostentatious by Hope Falls standards. Lacey thought tonight deserved her fanciest dress. Only her wedding garments, carefully tucked away, topped it.

The world seems brighter when one is well dressed
. The thought, long familiar, seemed especially true tonight. How else to explain why her stomach finally ceased its anxious roiling? The constant worries accompanying her faded in the expectancy of a merry evening.
And Mr. Lawson will see that Mr. Dunstan is correct; I do have a dress appropriate for every occasion!

Leaving her room, she went to check on Naomi. Her cousin and longtime companion had dressed for the occasion as well. “You look smashing! Blue always becomes you so well, Naomi.”

Her cousin eyed Lacey's dress. “You quite put me in the shade, my dear.” Naomi's smile made the compliment sincere.

“Stop putting yourself down,” Lacey chided. Her cousin, while lovely with her single streak of shocking white cresting her midnight locks, never seemed to accept a compliment.

“I didn't.” Naomi looked uncomfortable, as though uncertain how to say what she wished. “I've not seen you look so well since back in Charleston, Lacey. You must be very relieved to know that Granger removes Twyler from Hope Falls tomorrow.”

“I'm certain we all will be glad to see the last of him.” Her fingers skimmed over the healing cut at the base of her throat as she tried to change the topic. “It's always nice to find a reason to celebrate. Would you like to borrow my pearl hairpin? It matches your broach and would look wonderful, I'm sure.”

“Not tonight.” Her cousin rose from her dressing table to join Lacey at the door. “Evie and Cora are already decked out and waiting for us back in the kitchen.” The women had changed in shifts, so as not to leave the food unattended.

The men of Hope Falls, while not thieves, would make short work of anything edible left unwatched and unlocked. With the promise of their beloved soup—no matter that Lacey couldn't understand the appeal—the temptation to sneak a sample would prove too great. And having to exclude anyone over poor behavior tonight would put a damper on the festivities for everybody.

They fetched Mrs. Nash, whose unborn child had grown so greatly in the past few weeks she'd taken to napping most of the day. The extra sleep appeared to be doing her some good since she looked bright-eyed and rested as they headed to the kitchen.

When they drew close, they spotted a herd of hungry lumberjacks milling outside the kitchen. Since the front door to the diner remained locked until Evie declared things ready, they crowded around the back door like a jumble of eager puppies.

“Can't I have a taste?” Bobsley wheedled loudly.

“Of course you can!” Lacey swept past them through the door. “You and everyone else—as soon as it's set on the table.”

Some groans, but no one contested the rules. Riordan, who'd pushed back the group so the women could get through, pulled off his hat. “You ladies look a sight for sore eyes, I'm thinkin'.”

Belatedly, a few others whipped their hats off and began a chorus of accolades. Lacey ignored the rest to smile at the powerfully built Scots-Irishman. “Thank you, Mr. Riordan.”

Chase saw the smile she aimed at Riordan and decided the man's sheer size kept him on his feet. That smile aimed to single him out, but even more to exclude the other men in the crowd.

First she finds Lawson and invites him to help her in the store, then she turns her attention to Riordan
. Either the woman was fickle or playing a very deep game. If she didn't intend to marry any of them, the easiest way to avoid it was to play them against each other. Then, if a man became territorial about the others sniffing around her, he'd be out of the running for good.

If he didn't need to find Granger, Chase would've turned back and waited for the beckon of the dinner bell. As things stood, his friend planned to leave in the morning—this time with the doctor's approval—and it would be Chase's last chance to slide some pointed questions his way. Granger knew more about this town and its strange occupants than he'd let on.

It didn't take much thinking to deduce that Granger sat in the kitchen, soaking in the smiles of his fiancée and the smells of her good cooking. Chase wouldn't mind stepping into that kitchen himself. Home-cooked meals and homey warmth eluded his campsite fires. Getting by on his own food for so long gave a man a healthy appreciation for Miss Thompson's domain.

What he did mind were all the people who felt the same way. The rough-edged passel of lumbermen pressing their noses to the door wouldn't take kindly to watching Chase walk on through. The front door stayed locked tight—he'd already tried coaxing it open, but the stubborn thing remained as obdurate as anyone connected to the Miracle Mining Company when asked a question.

Time ran out as he walked around the building in search of another entry point. Once dinner got underway, there'd be no getting Granger alone. No open windows allowed access, but he found a third door in the back of the place.
Maybe …

Yep. This knob turned. He pushed it open and slid inside, closing it quietly behind him. It took a moment for him to be sure none of the other men had followed, but that allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness of what seemed a very small room.

The pantry
. He figured they'd put in the door for ease of loading goods after they arrived on the train. Not only did it make for a smart design, it turned out to be very useful. Reaching forward to keep from smacking into anything, Chase made his way to the second door and groped for the handle.
There
.

“ ‘Scuse me,” he said to anyone and everyone in the bustling work space. No sense frightening them with his sudden appearance. After the dark of the storeroom, the cheery brightness of the kitchen made him narrow his eyes so he could get his bearings.

“Mr. Dunstan?” An older woman Chase recognized by sight but not introduction tilted her head curiously. Not one of the four from the ad, Granger had said she came with her husband when he called McCreedy to round out his number of team bosses.

“Mrs. McCreedy,” he acknowledged. Scanning around the room, he spotted an unfamiliar face. A heavily pregnant woman balanced herself on a stool near the swinging doors. Something about her seemed familiar, but it wasn't until her ears turned red under his scrutiny that he made the connection to the engineer.

“Mr. Dunstan.” Miss Higgins glided over to perform introductions. “This is Mrs. Nash. Mr. Lawson's widowed sister.”

No need to wonder why she added the part about her being a widow. These women already faced enough danger from men assuming they were less than ladies since they placed that ad. An unmarried mother-to-be in town would reflect poorly on them.

“A pleasure.” He doffed his hat and offered a quick nod. Come to think of it, one of the women had mentioned that Mr. Lawson shared their house. Chase had just forgotten that the smitten engineer lived below stairs to better watch over his sister. Supposedly the arrangement helped protect the ladies.

But what of the man's obvious interest in Miss Lyman? It wouldn't be difficult to abuse his position in the household and take advantage of a sleeping woman. It hadn't happened yet, as evidenced by Miss Lyman requesting Lawson's help earlier, but it still could.
Are they all blind to how he looks at her?

Abruptly he realized he'd missed Mrs. Nash's response. The woman looked at him expectantly. “Er—” He floundered a moment before coming up with, “It's good to see you up and about.”

It worked. Women all around smiled at his thoughtful comment. Granger looked amused but held his tongue.

“Granger, I wondered if you'd give me a hand with Miss Lyman's cougar?” Filled in with sawdust and framed over the cat's own bleached skull, the cougar's head was ready to be hung. Chase could easily carry it alone, but hanging the thing made a good pretext to draw Granger aside for some questions.

“It's ready?” Miss Lyman plunked down a crock of butter and came scurrying over. “When you left the store to work on it, I hadn't imagined you'd finish everything so quickly!”

“Wanted it out of the way before Granger left.” He shrugged.
She better not decide she wants to come with us
.

Her eyes sparkled. “I'll come along for the first peek!”

Chase bit back a groan. Didn't she have something better to do than ruin his final opportunity to question Granger? One look at her excited face told him the answer:
No such luck
.

“We'll be back in a moment,” she called to the others.

“Everyone wait a minute.” Miss Thompson looked suspicious. “If it's finished, where are you planning to hang that thing?”

“On the wall beside your ‘Hats off to the Chef' sign.” Miss Lyman's voice shrank to something almost apologetic.

“No.” Done with the conversation, Miss Thompson returned her attention to the bubbling soup pots atop her stove.

The beginnings of a smile made Chase look down at his own hat. Suddenly he was glad he'd removed it before being told.

“Now, Evie, you know all the men are going to want to see it.” Her sister's entreaty fell on deaf ears until she continued, “With proof of her shooting staring them in the face, maybe the men will think twice before crossing the line!”

They don't know I shot it, too
. Chase held his peace. He'd bothered to dry the hide, scrape it clean, oil it to keep it supple, and mount it. What was the use if no one ever saw it? Besides, the other Miss Thompson made a good point. Lawson sure looked like a man to take a woman's skill with a gun seriously.

“Cora.” The cook wavered but held her ground. “It's not as though they'll never see it if Lacey hangs the thing elsewhere.”

“Out of sight, out of mind,” Chase cautioned.

“Dunstan's right. Besides”—Granger looked fondly at his woman—”none of us wants every man in town trooping through your house. The diner and the bunkhouse are the only places the men spend any amount of time in. This will make the best impact.”