Strong and Stubborn (14 page)

Naomi wouldn't allow herself to wonder what he'd think once he learned about the advertisement.
It shouldn't matter one whit what he thinks
, she told herself. But somehow it did anyway. Just like it mattered whether or not he was able to stay in Hope Falls.

She cleared her throat again, this time because she had some difficulty getting her words out. “Yes, things are changing in Hope Falls. I like to think they're changing for the better. The men we lost are men we'd escort from the grounds if they ever returned.”

Vehement nods met this proclamation as the women gave their full support. Granger did the same, his opinion chiming in to the tune of ominously cracked knuckles. Obviously Evie's fiancé hadn't forgotten the time he stopped four men determined to break into the women's house in the dead of night. Naomi hadn't forgotten either.

“I can't speak to what progress has been made in my absence,” Granger admitted. “But I can say that hiring more men will be very difficult. Warm weather makes the sap run too freely—most loggers stop working altogether in the summer, wary of the difficulties.”

If Mr. Strode found the prospect intimidating, he didn't show it. To the contrary, there seemed to be a glimmer in his eye, as though he welcomed the challenge. Or perhaps he merely welcomed the opportunity, since Braden so quickly tried to turn him away.

“They've mapped the route for the main leg of the flume and managed to clear most of it.” Dunstan's assessment surprised Naomi, mostly because she hadn't thought the hunter was keeping track of matters related directly to logging and establishing the sawmill.

Keeping Hope Falls in fresh meat and keeping Lacey out of trouble was more than enough work to keep him busy, but Dunstan continued. “They've also cleared and leveled the sawmill site. Soon we'll be ready to order ready-cut lumber and begin construction.”

“I hadn't realized we'd come so far.” Braden sounded surprised but not entirely pleased, and Naomi guessed at its cause. How frustrating he must find it, not being able to oversee his town.

“Evie's cooking makes the men able and willing to work hard.” Granger's boast wasn't far off the mark. If it weren't for Evie's cooking, they would have lost the remainder of the men in a blink.

“Miss Higgins mentioned that credit for the cooking goes to you,” Mr. Strode addressed Evie. “Now, I know hunger seasons any dish, but your stew can settle a man's stomach and soothe his soul.”

“She's spoken for.” Granger good-naturedly tightened his hold on a blushing Evie. “But for as long as you stay on, you'll be able to fill up on her cooking for breakfast, dinner, and supper.”

“Wait a minute,” Braden protested. “Who says he's staying?”

“I do.” Naomi surprised herself by speaking up first. “Mr. Strode barely stepped off the train before he started hauling equipment up the mountain and breaking down the barricade. We didn't have the chance to welcome him, but his actions surely make him a member of Hope Falls.”

“I agree.” Lacey slapped her britches to emphasize her point, raising a visible cloud of dust. “Any man who helped haul Dunstan out of that mine is welcome to stay on. That's all there is to it.”

“I couldn't argue with that even if I wanted to.” Dunstan gave an uncharacteristic grin. “But, for the record, I vote he stays.”

“Especially since he and Naomi found poor Mr. Draxley.” Cora's contribution shaded things a little, but Naomi forgave her.

“Poor Mr. Draxley, my eye!” Lacey looked mad enough to spit, mad enough that she didn't notice Dunstan and even Braden trying to get her to hold her tongue. “The weasel just about killed us!”

“What?” Mike's confused question got swallowed whole in the pandemonium following Miss Lyman's denouncement.

Her brother sat bolt upright in bed, demanding details in a voice better suited to commanding new troops. Dunstan, whom Mike had seen try to hush his woman, sighed at his failure. The ladies shrieked and gasped, save Miss Lyman, who seemed pleased by the uproar. Granger got over his surprise fastest of all and seemed to be mulling over the startling revelation.

Which made the carpenter in Mike start fitting pieces together for himself. He hadn't bothered to ask why Dunstan and Lacey went into the mine in the first place—it wasn't his place. Furthermore, by the looks of them, he hadn't been able to discount the possibility that the couple had sneaked off for a private interlude. Once he'd understood that this wasn't the first collapse, he'd entertained the idea that the couple had somehow brought on the second cave-in by being too loud or knocking into a precarious support. What he hadn't questioned was whether it was an accident.

This missing clue shifted the entire picture. From Miss Lyman's statement, Mike understood that the destruction was intentional—and possibly intended to kill the people trapped inside the mine. This created new questions about what the couple had been searching for, but Mike put that aside to examine later. For now he was fiddling with bits of information about the late and unlamented Mr. Draxley. Now he knew why the telegraph operator left his post to poke around the mines. Now he understood that the type of man capable of such deception wouldn't be the sort to inspire goodwill in everyday life—hence the lack of grief at the news of Draxley's death.

“So did Draxley cause the first cave-in, too?” Mike realized he'd spoken aloud when every head in the room whipped toward him.

Silence reigned for several heartbeats as the denizens of Hope Falls regarded him. Surprise, suspicion, even admiration played across their features as they considered his question. And, if Mike didn't miss his guess, considered his sudden involvement. It didn't take much brainpower to know that Dunstan and Lyman hadn't planned on making this part of the conversation public. But it was too late.

Even Miss Lyman held her tongue, now aware of her mistake.

Dunstan, in particular, stared at him with unnerving intensity, grappling with the problem he posed. All the same, it was the hunter who spoke first. “You don't miss much, do you, Mr. Strode?”

“Not if I can help it.” Mike walked a fine line. “Woodworking takes attention to detail and an eye for piecing parts together. I take note when something doesn't fit or goes against the grain.”

“In Hope Falls,”—Miss Higgins sounded a warning—“people and projects are never predictable.”

“Yep.” Dunstan raised his brows. “You'll fit in just fine.”

With that acceptance, Mike relaxed. Everyone understood without saying the acceptance was conditional upon his performance. So Mike didn't mention Luke. First he'd prove himself. Then when they valued him and his work, he'd be able to bring his son home. Thankfully, the people seemed smart enough. It shouldn't take them long to notice how hard he worked and the quality of his results.

“I want to know how you got the idea Draxley caused the first cave-in.” Respect mingled with suspicion in Lyman's request.

“Others mentioned this was the second cave-in and that it was strange to find Draxley so far from his telegraph station.” Mike paused then decided to speak plainly. “Judging by the reactions, he won't be much mourned. Miss Lyman indicated that Draxley intentionally caused the cave-in today.”

He waited for Dunstan and the lady to confirm this. After they nodded, he continued. “So either Draxley set out to kill the two of you, or he had another purpose. The only reason I could devise for creating a second cave-in was to destroy evidence that might remain from the initial collapse.”

“I didn't connect it so quickly, and I've been involved for months.” The cook blinked at him.

“No matter how damning it seems, any proof that the original cave-in was caused by sabotage has been thoroughly eradicated by now.” Lyman leaned back again. “It's all conjecture at this point.”

“Not quite.” His sister edged over and perched along her brother's bedside. “Although it isn't proof you can hold in your hands and show to the world, Braden, we know for certain. Draxley confessed that he'd brought down the mine back in the spring.”

“How did you coax that from him?” Lyman looked desperate to believe her but didn't dare.

The depth of the man's emotion confirmed Mike's suspicions. Braden Lyman lay in this bed because he'd been trapped in the first cave-in. No one said so—even if it weren't common knowledge, it wasn't the sort of thing loved ones gossiped about—but it made sense. It made even more sense when Mike considered that Braden Lyman owned most of Hope Falls. The mines predated the sawmill venture by at least a year—it stood to reason that Braden Lyman began them. And the man who oversaw the mines would, by default, shoulder any responsibility for unstable design implementation.

It explained why a man would be so eager to hear that his property had been sabotaged. Why else would Braden Lyman seem filled with hope instead of rage that another man ruined his life?

It's easier than thinking he ruined his own life
. Mike breathed deep. He and Braden Lyman shared more in common than he'd thought.

N
o, you're wrong.” The muffled moan emerged from beneath a heap of bedclothes, followed by the glare of a bleary-eyed Lacey Lyman. Hair mussed and pout in place, she looked much the way she had five years before when Naomi first met her cousin. “It's not morning already!”

“For all the hundreds of times you've attempted to argue the sun away, I've yet to see you succeed.” Naomi tapped her small pendant watch before dropping the chain back inside her bodice. “It's already half past four, Lacey. Bread doesn't bake itself.”

“To hear you tell it, anyone would think the sun was shining and I'm a slugabed.” Lacey pushed herself up and stretched. “But how can I argue the sun away when it hasn't even shown itself?”

“Piffle.” Naomi loved the whimsical word but rarely employed it. When something was overused, it became underappreciated, after all. “After all the trouble the men went through to dig you from the mines, you need to dish out a few smiles with their breakfasts.”

“Don't you think my smiles would be more genuine if I could sleep in for another half hour or so?” Lacey never could resist getting the last word, even though she'd already gotten out of bed.

“You're difficult to drag from bed, but that doesn't mean you need to sleep in. Besides, you're the woman of the hour. Enjoy it.”

“Ah …” Lacey looked over her shoulder as Naomi tackled the tangled ties of her cousin's corset. “But
I'm
not the woman of the hour, am I? Everyone will have guessed how things stand between me and Dunstan, even before we make an official announcement.”

Suddenly Naomi wanted to crawl beneath the covers and not come out. “That doesn't make me anything more than I was yesterday.”

“The only single woman amid a dozen or so bachelors?” Lacey tackled the wayward wisps of her blond hair, utterly oblivious. The girl was prophesying doom but viewed it as a dream come true.

“Now, Lacey, don't go putting it like that.” Naomi sat down on the bed hard enough to make the ropes creak. “You know as well as I do that a good portion of those men didn't list me as one of their choices. It's not as though I'll be surrounded by the entire dozen!”

In the early days, when bachelors descended on Hope Falls en masse, they'd asked each man to list which two of the three ladies they'd like to court. Unfortunately, they'd never worked out what to do with the men left over after the first two women made their choices. That left Naomi with a handful of men who'd listed her name—and an even larger handful who'd wooed but not won their women.

“That's true.” Evie and Cora trooped into the room with Naomi's favorite part of the morning—hot chocolate and sweet buns.

“What are we going to do with the men who chose me and Lacey?” Evie settled herself beside Naomi on the bed, concern creasing her temple. “Now that they've lost their chance at winning a bride, we can't expect them to stay on for nothing more than room and board.”

“Even if we scraped up the wherewithal to pay the … erm, if I call them losers, you'll all know that I don't mean it negatively. If we pay them fair wages, we couldn't expect Naomi's suitors to go on as before.” Lacey cautiously lowered herself to perch atop a rounded trunk.

“I say, Lacey.” Cora sounded somewhat awed. “However did you manage to bend so much without losing your balance? That's amazing.”

For a brief moment, Naomi remembered the two times Cora had fallen from her chair. The first time she'd been informed of Braden's death. The second, she'd been told he was still alive. Both times, after she came around again, Cora's corset made her employ some vaguely turtlish movements to get up off the ground.

“It's that new Pivot Corset I ordered!” Lacey practically jumped to her feet then resumed her seat with impressive ease. “It expands to let one bend. I can't tell you how grateful I was to be wearing it yesterday. A traditional corset would have made breathing impossible, and I hate to think about the cost if I'd fainted.”