Silver Nights With You (Love in the Sierras Book 1) (23 page)

“Ellie!” Lila whispered back. “For heaven’s sake. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I ain’t being ridiculous. I’m being discreet. Now, spill it.”

Lila spared a glance over her shoulder to make sure the men were all engrossed in their own conversations before she spoke. Then, she turned back to Ellie excitedly.

“Oh, Ellie! I am so in love!”

“I can see that. Guess you better speed up the ceremony!” Lila chuckled when Ellie hugged her. “Now, help me unload these sacks of flour. If I know Morgan, and I do, his stomach is about ready to turn itself inside out in want of a good meal.”

“What all have you brought us?” Lila asked, then nodded toward Ellie's bald companion. “And who?”

“Sandy!” Ellie called and the man turned toward her with a grin, the sunlight glinting off of the half-moons of his spectacles. “Come and meet Miss Cameron, the gal who caused all of that fuss the other night and cost me two windows!”

“Pleased to meet you,” Sandy offered and Lila shook his hand, blushing at the way she’d been introduced.

“Likewise,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting anyone but Val, so it is a pleasant surprise to see you both here.”

“Well, the place was mostly empty anyway,” Ellie explained. “Sadie could handle what little needed to be done. Sandy wasn’t too keen on me riding all the way out here with just Val,” she said loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. “Said he didn’t want me coming or going without his protection, what with a raging loony out there somewhere. I told him that since he was nothing but a good neighbor he didn’t have much say in my comings or goings. Well, as you can imagine, that didn’t go over too well at all. So, he finally bucked up and agreed to marry me.”

Lila gasped and a round of wide eyes turned to Sandy whose bald head was turning as bright as a beet root cube. He tried to shrink, but he towered over them all and looked more like a broken reed.

“Stand up, man,” Ellie ordered. “It’s not like you just signed your life away to Leavenworth!”

Lila laughed. “You’re embarrassing him, Ellie. Sandy, congratulations. You couldn’t have landed a finer catch.”   

“I reckon’ you’re right, ma’am,” he answered before the men surrounded him and shook his hand or pounded him on the back.

“All right, all right,” Ellie called. “Enough chin-wagging, or don’t you want a decent supper? Help me get all of this inside.”

One by one, the men made their way to the back of the wagon, easing Lila and Ellie away so they could shoulder the burdens. Val walked right up to Ellie, his grin a mile wide and threw his arms around her, lifting her clean off the ground while she giggled.

“Congratulations, old girl,” Val said. “You deserve it.”

She was no sooner set down than lifted again, this time in the arms of the other Kelly.

“I’m too old to be passed around from one pair of strong arms to the next,” she chided, but her face was so bright with happiness she could have rivaled the sun.

Morgan chuckled and set her down, taking the advantage to move behind Lila in order to get to the wagon. “Excuse me, Miss Cameron,” he said casually, but his fingers shot out to give her behind a playful squeeze as he went.

She sucked in a breath, but kept her composure, shaking her head at his slyness. Sidling up beside him, she reached across his outstretched arms, allowing her breasts to press against them as she grabbed a basket of eggs.

“Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Kelly,” she said, and he smirked after her.

Ellie’s efficiency was Morgan’s gain, and though he was still without furniture he had a well-stocked kitchen. With a new store of tools to speed their work, half of the men spent the afternoon building more permanent fencing for Morgan’s cattle while the others built a hen house for the half dozen chickens Ellie brought. Lila’s sleeves had been rolled up and her arms put to work within twenty minutes of the woman’s arrival and she was now up to her elbows in flour, stripes of it painting her cheeks like war paint.

She’d shed her vest and donned an apron. Once Ellie realized there was no stove in the kitchen she hung a small cauldron to boil in the fireplace. Lila had gone through and opened every window in the house to let the mountain air blow a breeze through the rapidly heating home. The lower half of her body ached from her night of lovemaking, and she was sure by the next day her upper half would hurt from kneading dough. Ellie came through the door and smiled in approval of Lila’s hard work.

“That oughtta do it, darlin’. Just cut them into biscuits and put them in the Dutch oven. I got the fire outside burning hot. We get them biscuits cooking now, they ought to be perfect by the time the sun sets. Now, let me see about that coffee.”

She went to the fireplace and swiveled the iron rod out to scoop a cup full of coffee for tasting. She smacked her lips and nodded before tilting the contents of the pot into a tin pitcher. By the time she was done Lila had the cast iron pot full and secured the lid. Ellie grabbed the pitcher and a stack of mugs and nodded toward the outside.

“Bring the pot. I got the juice.”

Lila followed Ellie, suddenly feeling extremely inadequate as a homemaker. Ellie had so much knowledge and handled so many things with impressive ease. All Lila had done was make biscuits and it had taken her the entire afternoon and a body full of flour to do it. In that time, Ellie had stocked and organized the kitchen, made coffee, dug a hole in the ground for the dutch oven, unhitched and brushed down her team of mules and swept out all of the dust from the inside of the house.

“Boys!” Ellie called. “Coffee!”

They echoed the word with childlike excitement and nearly tripped over their feet for a cup. Lila stood silently behind them, shifting the weight of the heavy pot to her other hand and using her free one to wipe sweat from her brow. Her back muscles ached and she did her best to stretch them without being obvious. The sudden absence of the heavy burden made her eyes spring open.

Morgan took the oven from her, went over to the fire pit and lowered it into the hole, shifting the dirt beneath until it was even. Then, he used a gloved hand to place embers around and on top of it. Lila followed him and watched, thankful that he knew what needed doing. When he stood, he smiled and she felt like falling into his arms, letting him fold her up in his embrace and massage away the night’s aches and the day’s insecurities.

“Thanks,” she said quietly. “I probably would have stood there looking like a fool if you hadn’t done that.”

“You’re not a fool,” he said with an admonishing shake of his head. “And that’s not what you look like standing there.”

“What do I look like?” she snorted in an exhausted voice. “Like a pampered princess playing at house?”

“No,” he said with a smirk. “You look like a woman who was loved, thoroughly and greedily all night long.”

In spite of her self-pity she smiled. Last night seemed like such a distant time and place. There were so many people around now, so many tasks underway. It was as if the night had stopped the world for them, gifting them with the time they needed to explore one another before galloping back up to speed. How she longed for that alternate reality right now.

“Morgan,” she said in a low plea, her eyes nearly on the verge of tears. “I don’t know anything about running a household.”

“Lila,” he said with a soft laugh before taking her hand and guiding her to a seat on a fallen log. “You don’t have a household to run. There is only you and me.”

“Even still, Morgan,” she said, wiping at her eyes before they could release the tears. “I don’t know how to cook.”

“That’s not true. You can catch and cook trout, and biscuits…and I remember hearing something about peach jam one time.”

“Hardly accomplishments to boast of.” She plastered a smile onto her face and spoke in a mock voice. “Please join us for dinner. We’re having biscuits with peach jam and fish on a stick.”

“Sounds perfect to me, but if you want I can teach you what I know.”

“And that’s what you want? A woman
you
have to teach to be a wife?”

“I want you, Lila,” he said with finality. “I don’t care if you never cooked a day in your life. We’ll make it work.” He almost crushed her to him, but he saw the approach of Val and Philip, followed by the others. “And if it weren’t for all these people here I’d be of a mind to haul you indoors and show you how much I want you.”

Whatever she might have said was lost when Val strode up and handed a cup of coffee to Morgan.

“Best drink up while you can,” Val said. “With you living out here this is likely to be the last decent cup of coffee you have for a good while.”

Lila raised an eyebrow to Morgan. “He’s right,” she said. “You’d best enjoy your victuals while you can.”

Morgan chuckled as Ellie took a seat on the log beside him. “That reminds me,” she said. “You need to get a milk cow, Morgan. If there are two things essential to good cooking it is milk and cream.”

“Yeah, I need to get one,” Morgan agreed. “I need to get a lot of things, but the first thing I want is a bed.”

“I can put in an order for you with Gus at the Carson Mercantile on my way back if you want?” Ellie offered. “With supply wagons running daily, you could probably have it here by the end of the week.”

“That’d be mighty fine of you, Ellie. Thank you.”

Ellie nodded and called Lila back into the kitchen to finish preparing the evening meal. An hour later the women worked together to carry the boiling cauldron outside. It was full of a rich beef stew with carrots, potatoes, onions and beans. Ellie had used the last of the butter she’d brought to smooth and anchor the taste. Lila’s mouth watered with the memory of the sampling bite she’d stolen.

Once the cauldron was set near the fire Ellie went to the Dutch oven and pulled the lid off with a gloved hand. Golden biscuits plumped up to the size of a man’s fist greeted the air with a steaming hiss and Lila smiled with pride.

The world was gray with the loss of the sun, but moonrise was still a good hour off. The men filed around the bonfire, each waiting for a ladle full of Ellie’s meal. As they settled on the benched logs around the leaping flames a silence fell as they filled their mouths with food.

“Ellie,” Val began. “Got any butter for these biscuits?”

“I’m afraid I don’t Val. Used it all up in the stew. I got something though.” She pulled two pint-sized glass jars from two pockets in her apron and held them aloft. One contained a square cut of honeycomb, the sweet amber sludge surrounding it. The other held a bright orange congealed spread. “Honey or Lila’s own peach jam.”

She couldn’t understand why, but panic flitted into Lila’s belly. “Oh no, Ellie,” she exclaimed. “Not my jam. I haven’t tasted it yet. It could be dastardly.”

“Nonsense,” the elder dismissed. “I’m sure it’s…peachy.”

Everyone laughed at the pun, but Lila shut her eyes and prayed it was at the very least edible.

Philip and Sandy opted for the honey.

“Pass Lila’s jam over here,” Morgan said, and Lila shot him a worried look and shook her head. He smiled and dropped a dollop onto his biscuit.

As she watched in barely-bridled horror he filled his mouth with a bite. He raised his eyebrows, smiled and bobbed his head up and down. She sagged with relief before she smiled softly. Val held the jar of honey before Lila.

“Could you hand this over to Sandy, please?” he asked and she grabbed the jar, dipping a finger inside for a sample. The firelight danced behind the glass container, highlighting the perfect symmetry and construction of the comb inside, and Lila thought of the busy lives of bees.

“Isn’t it strange how it takes years of study and science for man to duplicate what is instinctive to other species?” she asked aloud to no one in particular.

“How do you mean, Miss Cameron?” Philip asked, a delighted curiosity on his face.

“Bees, for example,” she explained, holding the jar aloft. “Each one lives no more than a few months and yet in that time he works, picking up right where his predecessor left off, to build a hive that can sustain an entire colony through the long winter months. Each bee knows his function and performs it efficiently and the result is a honeycomb, an unbroken chain of tunnels, no clear beginning or end, perfectly formed and unparalleled in its engineering. If miners had the instincts and know-how of bees those cave-ins on the Comstock would have never happened.”

No one spoke for a long while, the silence dragging on Lila’s ears until she began to feel foolish for making such an observation, but Philip sat forward slowly and set his stew down.

“I, for one, feel like an utter fool for having missed something so plain myself.” He reached out toward the jar. “May I take a look at that, Miss Cameron?”

She handed the jar to him and he turned it slowly, studying the section of honeycomb. He began to chuckle, a low rumble through his chest that worked its way up to the air. He slapped his knee and rocked back on the log before pulling off his glasses to rub beneath his eyes.

“Miss Cameron,” he began amid the fading ripple of his laughter, “Not only are you a brilliant naturalist, but I believe you have just solved the riddle of the mines.”

“What?” she asked, confusion etched across her face.

“We’ll take our cue from the tiny pests and build an underground honeycomb!”

Morgan laughed at his friend’s enthusiasm. “Who exactly are you working for, Philip? Who hired you?”

“Leonard Stacy.”

“The railroad Stacy?” Val asked.

“That’s the one,” Philip affirmed. “I’m telling you the man’s got money to burn. He’s paying me a hell of a lot of money to figure this out.”

“And what if you can’t?” Morgan asked.

“He made it very clear to me. There is no ‘what if’ and there is no ‘can’t’.”

Morgan’s eyes shifted to Lila. She knew he was uneasy with the heating game of politics surrounding the mines. They’d spoken at-length about it the night before. He wished more than anything that Val would turn his back on the entire enterprise. Val seemed to notice the train of Morgan’s thoughts as well, and he sat back and patted his belly, changing the subject to praise Ellie’s cooking.

From that moment on Philip abandoned the company in favor of adjusting his wooden model to fit his new scheme. Ellie and Sandy engaged the group in an animated conversation about weddings and celebrations. Lila listened, but could feel herself fading into slumber.

“Lila!” Ellie called, rousing her completely. “That reminds me. I saw that French seamstress this morning. She came by to tell you that your pieces would be done tomorrow.”

“Already? I thought she said it’d be a week.”

“Apparently, she just finished an order for another lady, an order that was placed before the cave-ins. When Collette delivered the packages the woman said she no longer wanted the dresses on account of the collapse of the mines. Said they had no money to pay for a new wardrobe. So, she’s altering the dresses to your measurements. She hasn’t started on the doctor’s suits, but I told her where you were and drew her a map so she can bring them to you tomorrow. Figured you needed them sooner rather than later.”

“You’re having her come out here all alone?” Val asked, a crease of concern on his brow.

“I’m not
having
her do anything,” Ellie answered, her nose thrust in the air. “If you haven’t cottoned on yet, that Frenchie does what she wants and when she wants to.”

“Maybe she wants to see you again, Val,” Lila suggested and raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t you look at me with that matchmaking gleam in your eye,” Val drawled. “That woman is one giant maelstrom of spitfire. No, thank you.”

“But she’s so beautiful.”

“The world is full of beautiful women. That’s my favorite thing about it.” He grinned appreciatively.

Lila chuckled and rose. “Well, I suppose we ought to scrub these dishes while I’ve still got strength.”

“I’ll do it,” Morgan said as he stood. “You ladies cooked. Val and I will wash up.”

“Thank you,” she said as he took her bowl.

Soon, the boys were down by the river, and Argyle produced his fiddle. “Shall we sweeten the night with song?”

“Please do, Papa. You haven’t played in months.”

“The strings may not have held up during all the traveling, but it’ll have to do,” he said as he tucked the wooden saddle between his chin and shoulder. He ran the bow along the strings, stopping to turn the tuning pegs every so often. Once the sounds crooned harmoniously he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and began to play "Rock of Ages."

Lila swayed lightly with the tune, her eyes filling with tears. It had been her mother’s favorite hymn. By the time the final notes faded into a hopeful hum both she and her father had tear lines shining on their cheeks. She sniffled, then he sniffled, and she went to him and threw her arms around his neck. When they pulled apart, Argyle wiped his eyes and smiled.