Too Rich for a Bride (34 page)

“All right.” Faith chewed a fingernail as if anticipating the topic of their conversation.

“Why did you write me that note? Why do you think my seeing Colin was a mistake?”

Faith sat on the foot of her bed. “I saw Mr. Wagner in town one day. He didn’t see me.”

“And?” Ida sank into the chair.

“He walked out of the tobacco shop with another man.”

She’d never seen Colin smoke. Nor had she seen any evidence in his office. Not that buying tobacco or smoking was a crime. “The tobacconist is probably a client.”

Faith pulled her bag onto her lap. “I don’t know about that, but I think Mr. Wagner might be living two lives.”

“There’s more?”

Faith nodded. “I heard him talking when I came around the corner. He said women have no place in the business world; that a woman’s place is in the”—the schoolteacher looked down at the bed and blushed—“bedroom.”

Ida felt her eyes widen and her mouth drop open.

“Said it just as clear as a church bell.”

“And about as far removed from his decent deacon image as Cripple Creek is from Paris, France.” Ida huffed. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

Faith’s gulp of air answered the question.

Ida nodded. “I haven’t been real eager to hear the truth. I’m sorry.”

“Are you going to quit seeing Mr. Wagner?”

“I already have.”

“And what about Tucker? Are you ready to pursue him?”

Ida weighed her answer while she tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I’m not sure
pursue
is the right word, but I do care about him.”

A smile replaced the shadow on Faith’s face. “I knew you were a smart woman.”

Ida hoped she hadn’t gotten smart too late.

THIRTY-EIGHT

ate Monday afternoon, Tucker pitched a forkful of hay down into Titan’s stall. He repeated the action for Trojan and the four new horses. The repetition reminded him of his prayers for Miss Ida Sinclair. He’d been praying about her every few hours since Christmas Day, when he’d practically scolded her for her generous gifts to him and the others in Morgan’s home. He hated that he’d caused her such disappointment. She’d bought him a nice gift, and he’d let his pride stand in the way of accepting it with grace.

“Mr. Tucker, you in here?” The voice belonged to Otis, but the monotone was foreign.

“Up here.” Tucker set the fork against the wall and climbed down the ladder. He hadn’t seen Otis much that day, and he hadn’t expected to see him here after work.

His co-worker leaned against the back of the wagon. The shine had left his eyes. The perpetual smile was gone. He carried the weight of the world on his slouched shoulders.

“Mrs. Naomi all right?” Tucker asked. “The boys?”

“They’re fine.” The words came out flat as Otis stared down at the straw covering the barn floor.

Tucker tugged off his work gloves and tossed them on the wagon seat. “You sick?”

Otis shook his head.

“I’ll make some coffee. We can sit on the back porch.” Tucker escorted his friend out of the barn and latched the door behind him.

Twenty minutes later, the two men occupied the rocking chairs on the porch and stared out at a white blanket of snow. Tucker held his cup of hot coffee up to his face and breathed in its aromatic warmth. The other cup waited untouched on the table between him and the uncharacteristically quiet Otis. Tucker sat with his feet propped on the railing. Otis sat with his hands on his knees, looking as though the world was about to roll off his back and crash to the ground. Tucker could grow old waiting for his friend to speak his mind.

“Otis, I’m not as patient as you are.” Tucker set his cup on the table and slid his feet to the wood flooring. “Something’s wrong.” He straightened and looked his friend in the eye. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is.”

Otis leaned forward and placed his head in his hands. Tucker heard the snort of a man trying not to cry.

His friend’s words from the other night echoed in Tucker’s head and soured his stomach.
“I’ll be able to do a whole lot more when my mine stock pays off.”

Tucker pressed the heels of his boots into the boards beneath them. “The stock you bought?”

A pained look overtook Otis’s face, and he nodded. “I lost it all, and more.”

“What do you mean ‘more’?”

“Boney said it looks like the certificate is just worthless paper.” Otis
labored to speak every word. “Stock’s not even worth what I paid for it. I thought—”

“You thought it was a good investment. You thought you could earn more to better provide for your family.”

“It doesn’t matter what I thought.” Otis picked up his cup. “I was wrong.”

“You sure it’s as bad as all that?”

“Boney said the Olive Branch Mine didn’t pan out. The ore wasn’t high-grade after all. Report says it’s not even worth the diggin’.”

Tucker rubbed his forehead in frustration. Hattie had known Boney Hughes for nearly a decade. He’d been a friend of her late husband’s. Tucker trusted her judgment.

“Boney feels real bad.” Otis heaved a sigh. “Said your friend and her boss lady are rarely wrong in choosin’ investments.”

Tucker straightened. “Ida invested in the same stock?”

Otis nodded. “Boney followed her lead.”

Tucker had heard the talk in town. Many people didn’t like the tactics she’d learned from her employer, who profited from secrets heard in clients’ offices and the ignorance of others. Could he have been that wrong about Ida’s heart?

“Your lady friend probably lost a lot too.” Otis shook his head. “I know I’m not the only one hurt by this, but …”

Tucker’s concern for Ida wasn’t whether she’d lost money, but her physical and spiritual well-being. The business was ruining people. Not just financially. It was time Ida knew what Reverend Taggart had told him about Colin.

Tucker drained his cup and stood. “Hold on to the stock certificates for now. Let me look into the situation before you do anything.”

Thirty minutes later, Tucker stood in the doorway of Miss O’Bryan’s private office.

“Hello, Mr. Raines. How may I help you?” Before he could open his mouth to answer Miss O’Bryan, she raised her hand. “Just know I don’t need any ice, and I’m not in the mood for a sermon.”

Tucker drew in a deep breath and met her gaze. “Ma’am, people here are being hurt by what you and Miss Sinclair are doing.”

“And what exactly are we doing that is your concern?” Miss O’Bryan cocked her head.

“Garnering inside information from your clients and profiting off them and others who don’t have the benefit of your foreknowledge.”

“If you’re riled about the Olive Branch Mine stock, I’ll have you know I sank money into it too. I trusted Ida, and we all got hurt because of her mistake.”

She’d made a mistake? That didn’t sound like Ida. There had to be more to this mine stock calamity.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“She left me a note under the door this morning saying she was taking the train to Colorado Springs. I expect her back at work tomorrow morning.”

What he had to say couldn’t wait that long. If he didn’t find her at the depot, he’d go to the boardinghouse.

“Thank you.” Tucker walked out the door and took long, heavy strides toward the depot.

Ida was sure, if given the chance, the nervous energy inside her could enable her to outrun the train she rode, no matter its speed. She’d read and reread the assayer’s official report no fewer than five times. She’d spent the better part of the afternoon in Colorado Springs and found the answers she’d promised Mollie O’Bryan. Some of them, at least.

It turned out that the sample the assayer evaluated wasn’t the type of ore found in the Olive Branch Mine. Someone had switched the sample. When she and the assayer had realized what had happened, he had telephoned Mr. Blackmer to find out who signed for the sample before it was delivered to Colorado Springs.

Mr. Blackmer had claimed he’d personally handed the chunk of ore to his attorney, Colin Wagner. And according to the assayer, a man with hazel eyes, wearing a pinstripe suit and a bowler hat, had delivered the sample to him.

Colin Wagner. A leader in the church. A deacon. Mollie’s friend, whom she had trusted even if she didn’t always follow his counsel.

A few weeks ago, Ida wouldn’t have believed Colin was capable of replacing the high-grade sample with a counterfeit. But now her mind seemed set on reliving and analyzing everything he had said and done, starting with his warning to Mollie about one of her clients. Had his concern simply been a ruse to gain her trust?

During Ida’s work on the Raines Ice Company prospectus, Colin had told Tucker that what a person did was directed by his own conscience.

Not, necessarily, by what is right
.

Judson had seen Colin with a man suspected of stealing valuable ore from the Mary McKinney Mine. Was Faith right? Was Colin living a second life in the shadows?

If so, why? What did he have to gain in switching the ore? Money, yes, but the attorney had already made a good deal of money. Because of his friendship with Mollie and Charles, Colin had access to the same privileged information they did. Why would the attorney want to sabotage Mr. Blackmer? Why would he want to dupe the stock exchange and hurt Mollie and countless others who had invested in the stock based upon the find in the new stope?

Ida folded the assay report and slipped it back into her reticule. The law would have to dig for those answers. Judson said he’d reported what he’d seen to a deputy. Perhaps with the evidence she’d gathered, the sheriff would have enough to arrest Colin, or at least investigate him more thoroughly.

In the meantime, she could use a little rest. She leaned against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. A few minutes later the train whistle blew, causing Ida to jump.

“Cripple Creek.” The conductor made the announcement from the front of the car as the train slowed for the final stretch.

Tomorrow she’d have an opportunity to redeem herself. Hopefully, her news would help them all find more answers. Then, if she still had a job, she’d decide what to do.

In the meantime, she yawned and draped her new silk-lined mantle over her shoulders, ready to hire a ride home and crawl into bed. So much had changed inside her since Christmas Day, since that night when she’d found herself broken at a crossroads, and repentant.