Jasper Mountain (24 page)

Milena wondered what caused Beth to fall. Where was Digger when she sustained the injuries? What was wrong with these men of Jasper?

The doctor gently covered Beth with a quilt, as if he tucked a child away in safety. He gave her a teaspoon of tonic to help her sleep. A kind and decent man. Apparently, in Jasper, an exception.

When he finally left, a tear slipped silently down Beth’s cheek. She brushed it away, but not before Milena noticed.

“What happened?”

“I fell walking backward. Can you believe how silly?”

“Your tears,” Milena said gently, wondering what might cause a young woman to back away from her lover.

“Oh,” Beth said and looked away. “Nothing.” She turned her face to the wall and closed her eyes in dismissal. Milena opened her mouth, but decided against further questions. Best to let the girl sleep.

She worried about Beth as she returned to her room and opened the door. She froze when she saw who sat upon her bed. The doctor.

“You owe me, my dear.”

Owe? Milena recalled the breakfast discussion concerning the doctor’s payment. She shook her head. “No.” She backed against the wall.

He sprung to his feet, towering over her. “This will go much easier if you cooperate, Milena.”

So. The doctor did possess a black heart. Why didn’t she realize? What happened to her sight? Frantically, she looked around the room for a weapon. She grabbed a chair and held it up between them.

“You will come no closer.”

The doctor took a step back, a perplexed look wrinkling his brow. “Honestly, my dear, a physical examination is nothing to be this frightened over.”

“What?” She suddenly felt quite foolish. “Oh. Doctor, my apologies. I thought we were discussing terms of your payment.”

“Oh!” His eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Oh, no, my dear. No.” He sat back on the bed and laughed uneasily, his face the color of embarrassment. “Only an examination, Milena. You can put down the chair.”

She held her shield. “No, Doctor. I refuse.”

He shook his head and sighed, his shoulders drooping slightly. “Milena, not only does Miss St. Claire insist upon this, I wholeheartedly concur. This is a matter of public health.”

“My health is of my own concern.”

“My dear? Have you forgotten the gentlemen you entertain?”

“I tell fortunes. I touch hands only. Nothing more.” She put down the chair, sat on it, and held her hands out to him. “Here. You may examine these.”

“Your work, er, consists in matters of fortune-telling only?” He looked at her skeptically. The shade of crimson in his cheeks turned deeper.

“Yes,” she finally said, dropping her hands. “It is the truth. I do nothing else.”

Again she saw the deliberation of his thought as skepticism changed into an uncertain belief. “Are you positive?” he asked.

“I believe I would know this.”

The doctor looked thoughtful. “I suppose. I must have misunderstood Miss St. Claire.”

She allowed her defensive shield to soften. “I do owe you a reading.”

The doctor pulled out his pocket watch. “Yes, and it is near-ing the Boarding House hour of festivities.” He smiled. “Milena, thank you.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “I appreciate all you did to help me today. You make a fine nurse.”

“Does a nurse require a health examination from you?” she asked. “Because if one does, no thank you to that, as well.”

Jack’s clothes might be on his back again, but he wouldn’t feel right until he took a bath—a hot one with lots and lots of soap. He wasn’t sure if he was angry, upset, sad, humiliated. Furious. Or all of them rolled into one. Mouse, bless his heart, scooted alongside. He’d taken the search completely in stride.

Jack’s anger built with each step down Gooseneck Road until his house finally came into view. Relief swept over him, a very welcome feeling. His mood lifted along with one of the sweetest sights he’d seen that day, not that he’d ever admit it. Here came Digger up the road, fine and no longer missing.

Anger returned. The son of a bitch had scared him to death.

Digger walked slower when he saw Jack and Mouse. Jack stopped. Mouse looked up to Jack, drew in from his pipe, and puffed a tiny cloud out of the side of his mouth.

“You really have to stop that habit, kid. It’s for grown-ups.” Jack wondered if he’d ever remember Mouse’s deafness, but decided his talk was mostly for himself anyway.

Digger approached, guilt written all over his face. “Dig, I need to ask you something.”

“Yeah, sorry I missed my shift. I know it was your first day and all, but I went prospectin’ last night after Sam’s and sat down to rest. I fell asleep. Din’t budge ‘til roundabout noon.”

“About the saloon last night,” Jack said, ignoring Digger’s flimsy excuse and lie. “The meeting. The petition. We’ve got much more to talk about than a missed day at work.”

“A petition?” Digger attempted a poor show of wide-eyed innocence. He dropped his eyes and stared at the ground between Jack’s feet, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“The petition,” Jack answered. “Tom’s. The one everyone signed. The one you signed. Why didn’t you tell me, Dig?”

The miner shrugged, his eyes still lowered.

“Digger,” Jack said.

“'Cause,” Digger answered, his head snapping up. His eyes leveled with Jack’s. “I couldn’t say nothin'.”

“I’m your friend,” Jack threw back.

“Yeah, well, you may be my friend, but you’re—”

“Creely’s pup?” Jack asked, realizing Digger really, truly didn’t trust him. Not completely.

Digger flinched and turned away, surveying the landscape. When he looked back at Jack, his eyes held a steady honesty. “Jack, I’m sayin’ sometimes it’s hard is all. Tom asked me not to say nothin’ to you, so I didn’t.”

“Digger, the man disappeared! Didn’t you think that might be an important piece in the puzzle?”

“Whose puzzle, Jack? Yours? You gonna figure this out and find him? You know well as I do he’s a dead body. Like anyone who stands again’ Creely. Look around, Jack,” Digger answered, his tone of guilt replaced by annoyance. “You ain’t like the rest of us. Look where you live.” He gestured back to where Jack’s modest cabin sat. From inside the house came Duke’s muffled barking as he sensed his master coming near.

“Where I live? It’s a house, Dig. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“This is a goddamned palace, Jack. I share my bed. Another man sleeps there when I’m workin’ my shift. All I own I fit in a cubbyhole. I been workin’ in the mine seven years and I got nothin’ to call my own. Nothin'.”

Duke’s distant barking built into a frenzy and grew louder. Mouse watched, his eyes round. The boy might not be able to hear, but he obviously felt the tension.

“Hell, even your goddamned dog lives better than I do,” Digger said. “Look at the kid, followin’ you around. Even he wants to join in on a dog’s life. It’s better than anything we can ever hope for. Mouse and me and Tom, it’s different for us.”

Digger’s words stunned Jack, but his sense of betrayal and anger softened under a light of realization. Jack didn’t really know what it felt like to live the way the miners did. Theoretically, perhaps, but not really. Yes, he worked alongside them, breathed the same dust, did his best to ignore cramps in his legs and back that grabbed so bad some days he thought he’d never make the walk home. He dealt with the constant sting of scraped and infected hands, of bruises in places where a man ought not to be bruised, but when he got through, when he came up to the surface, he lived in a decent home. Slept in a decent bed.

Jack swiped his hardboil off his head, knowing his leather-brimmed hat waited to take its place once he returned home. The hat he wore when he forgot the mine and his life under the earth and reminded him of a future waiting. Something the other men didn’t have. And his future came courtesy of Victor Creely.

That’s what he owed the mining mogul, really, something going way beyond money. Thanks to Victor, Jack had a future.

No wonder Digger didn’t trust him, why no miner trusted him. How could they, as torn as he felt?

“I didn’t realize you felt that way, Dig,” Jack said, sensing his friendship with Digger slipping away, powerless to stop the slide.

“It ain’t no way.” Digger shrugged. “Sometimes it’s hard. What happened to the petition anyways? When Creely takes a look at it, every man on that piece of paper will suffer like we always do.”

Jack’s frustration resurfaced. He was the only one trying to make the situation at the mine better for all concerned. “I agree with that petition, and I signed it like I would have if anyone bothered to show it to me. Hell, I took it to Creely and told him I stand behind it. Which I would have done if anyone gave me the chance.”

“Signing a piece of paper don’t prove nothin’ to no one. There’s a whole bunch more needin’ fixin’ at Jasper Mine. Things is boilin’ up. When it comes down to it, you’re not gonna be sure which side to stand on.”

“I stand where I always do. Always, always with my friends.” Jack forced the anger in his voice to ease off. “I’m sorry you weren’t comfortable coming to me.”

Digger’s guilty look came back with more intensity than before. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “How did your first day as shift boss go? I’m sorry I missed it.”

Jack buried the rest of his frustration and smiled, even though it didn’t feel quite right on his face. “We have lots to catch up on. Dinner?” Jack asked.

“Oh, Jesus, Jack.” Digger pulled his hands out of his pockets. “I jest about forgot why I was comin’ to find you. It’s Stoop.”

A cold wind flipped the hardboil out of Jack’s hand. He didn’t bother to retrieve it. “What is it, Dig?”

“He’s missing. At the last part of his shift last night. Jest like Tom. Ain’t no one seen him for close on to twelve hours.”

H
ealing energy radiated from the doctor’s palms. Holding his hands were like suspending hers over a campfire, Milena thought, or soaking up the warmth of a vibrant source.

They sat on the side porch, no table between them. Dusk deepened around them, one of Milena’s favorite moments of the day. The perfect time to do a reading.

“You have followed your path, Doctor. All is true and right. Except for love.” He smiled sadly.

She enjoyed her easy connection with the doctor. Earlier today, she’d done everything possible to prevent him from entering into her life. She was grateful for the decision, whatever inspired it, to allow him through her door.

“So, about this love? Where, exactly, do you see that?” His attention dropped back down to his palm.

She traced the uppermost horizontal line across his hand, the heart line. His ran solid. “Here, you see? This line. It reveals your love is strong. True. Your feelings of the heart run deep, and you love with great passion.”

He grinned.

“But,” she said, and his eyes widened, “see where the line branches? This part of your palm is ruled by Jupiter, this part by Mars. Your love cannot decide in which place to dwell.”

“What does that mean?”

“There is an ideal for which you search. A woman who is all things.” Milena shook her head. “There is no such ideal woman, Doctor. Life forever leaves its marks upon those who live it. Perfection is possible only in the spirit world. In this world, you search for the woman with no failings and miss the one who is mate to your soul.”

“Oh,” a small voice gasped behind her. The doctor’s head snapped up to look beyond Milena. His face crinkled with surprise, then grew tender. The very thing he searched for shone in his eyes, brighter than the clearest answer. Milena did not need to look to know Cassandra uttered the small cry. The doctor jumped to his feet and Milena looked over her shoulder, but there was only thin air to behold.

“Cassy,” the doctor whispered.

Milena turned back to him. “It seems you find your own answers, Doctor.”

He shook his head and sat back down, his eyes downcast. “It’s complicated, Milena.”

“No. It is not.”

He jerked his head up to look at her. Helplessness flickered on his face. “I shouldn’t keep you. I’m sure there are many waiting for your attention.”

Ah, a retreat. Often men chose this when faced with a conflict of emotion. She stood, and the doctor with her.

“Consider what I told you.” She took his arm.

“Um-hmm. And when did you say you were free for that physical?”

She smiled to herself and they headed around the porch. Luke leaned against the front banister. He leered at her. Milena dropped her glance. Deception glistened from his skin and wove through his ridiculous yellow mane. Although his professed purpose, he did nothing to protect the women of this house. Despite his constant grin, meanness poured from him.

She quickened her pace and, with the doctor, entered the house. The parlor lay beyond, music, voices, and laughter leaking from it, sounds of joy swirling the air softly, like a breeze.

Yet a chilling cold curled around Milena. Something wrong. Here? No. Approaching. An affirming tingle fell over her, but this time it offered no comfort.

This time, the feeling prickled with warning.