The Gold Miner's Wife: A Young Woman's Story of Romance, Passion and Murder (9 page)

             
“Getting drunk.  What are you doing?”

             
“More like drowning your sorrows, wouldn’t you say?” he observed.

             
“They’re my sorrows to drown.  What do you care?” she said evenly, as she poured another glass.  Susannah had a familiar stubbornness that reminded him of his own.

             
Taking another tack, he said, “You are going to make yourself sick.  You will have a headache in the morning.”   Jack hated to see this innocent, sweet, blithe woman disintegrate before his eyes.

             
“I have a headache every morning.  My life is one big headache,” she complained.

             
“Susannah, you should not be…” he began.  But she interrupted him, “Do not order me about, Jack!  You know,” she continued, “you are just
so
good all the time.  Good old Jack.  Always taking care of everything and everyone.  Sometimes I wonder if your parents wanted a girl.”  She was not a dramatic female given to hyperbole.  No, this wasn’t Susannah, it was the wine talking, Jack decided.

             
He drew out a chair, sat down and placed an empty glass firmly in front of her.  Her hand was unsteady, she spilled some of the liquid as she poured.  He gulped the drink back in one large swallow.  “There!” he said crossly, “Happy now!”  She looked away.  But he continued as his irritation grew, “Is this how you have been spending your days?  Where is your little friend Edward?” 

             
“Why are you always so mean to Edward?” she frowned.

             
“I don’t like him,” he muttered.

             
“He likes you,” she said sweetly.

             
“He needs to go back to England.”  Jack paused, as if struggling with whether he should go on.  “We need to talk, Susannah, but you’re in no condition.”

             
“Yes, we
do
need to talk.  It seems I am now the co-owner of your mine – we are to be
partners
,” she said with special emphasis on the word partners, as she smiled at him.

             
“You’ve been to see your lawyer?” he asked as he leisurely trailed one long finger up and down his glass.

             
“He came here – to read the will,” she answered truthfully.

             
“Thomas didn’t leave any part of his share to another, did he?” Jack probed.

             
Susannah raised a quizzical brow.  “What?  Don’t be silly.  Of course not,” she said, looking irritated.  “Oh, and I am to hire a bookkeeper to examine the accounts.” 

             
Jack growled with a disapproving voice that sounded like he ate nails for breakfast and washed them down with rocks.  “Honestly, Susannah, you don’t know anything about mining,” he said wearily.  “Why don’t you sell your half to me?”  Too late he realized his mistake.  There are always two ways to say something and he had picked the wrong way.

             
“Ooooh, no, no, no!” she exclaimed with more emphasis than was needed.  “That’s what Edward said.”

             
“Edward?  What has he got to do with this?”

             
“He is looking out for my interests.”

             
This was an unexpected development.  Why did he get the feeling the two of them were in cahoots?  “Well sell it to someone else then, I don’t care!” he said loudly.  “Look, Susannah,” he added, in a quieter tone, “I know this has been hard.  You suffered a tragic loss, we all did, but you most of all.  Thomas loved you.  He would want you to be happy.  You must try to go on living for his sake.  But managing a mine?  I have seen your artwork.  You have talent.  Others
look
at the things around them.  Through your artwork it is evident you actually
see
them.  Mining was Thomas’ interest, it was
his
path, but it is certainly not yours.  Do you have any idea what you would be getting yourself into?”

             
It was a compliment.  Jack had never commented on her artwork before.  But he had formulated an opinion of her work, of her.  It was a gratifying thought, but one she pushed aside.  “Thomas left his share of the mine to me,” she said, her determination gathering steam.  “I will not let him down.”

             
“Were it not for your artistic talent, you would never have found yourself with the Purfield’s in a broken down buggy the day you accidentally met Thomas,” Jack reminded her.  She frowned.

             
Jack added defiance to her growing list of demerits.  He eyed her speculatively.  “A lovely young woman like you, gently bred, a gifted artist with many students depending on her,” he said quietly as he gazed at her, “do you really want to trade it all to fulfill Thomas’ dream?”  A few tendrils of her soft hair had come loose.  Jack wanted to touch her there, to restore the curls, to caress her earlobes, to gently follow the curve of her lips with his forefinger.  She was so lovely.   His resolve was fast oozing away.  

             
Her tears welled up again.  The day was in shambles.  She pushed the empty glass aside and stood rather shakily.  “But I have you to help me.  You are right, I don’t know anything about the mine and I do not know what my role might be.  All I do know is that Thomas loved you as a brother.  He trusted you, and so must I.  It would do me a world of good to make myself useful.  And now, please excuse me, I find that I am weary.”

             
He touched her hand, took it in his, and gently stilled her, his thumb caressing her palm. Then he gave her a pledge.  “If this is your wish, I will do what you ask, Susannah.  I will help you.”  His words conveyed a wealth of meaning.  “I will have the account books sent over.  You will need to know everything.”

             
“Thank you, Jack,” was all she said before she ghosted through the door.

             
Jack kept his word to Susannah and within a few days the financial records of the Five Nuggets Mine dating back to 1873 had been turned over to her accountant who reviewed them with due diligence.  A meeting was then called so that the accountant, a Mr. Hoyt, might report his findings.  It was an unbearably hot August afternoon when Jack arrived at Susannah’s home at the appointed hour.  With no clouds in sight to offer relief from the blazing sun and without so much as a hint of a light breeze to cool things off, everything and everyone was feeling the heat.  The dry air sucked the moisture right out of the sunbaked ground; flowers and vegetable gardens would be wilted by tomorrow without a good soaking.

Jack was shown into the parlor and found Edward Mansfield also in attendance, much to his annoyance. 

              “I have asked Edward to hear the report as well.  You do not mind, do you, Jack?” Susannah asked.  This was not really a question.  It was an awkward moment.  What could he say?  If he objected to Mansfield’s presence, he would reveal himself to be a disagreeable sourpuss, or worse that he was a secretive scoundrel with something to hide.  If he allowed him to stay, he would be validating Mansfield’s involvement in affairs that were not his own.  So Jack said nothing.

             
Catori offered everyone refreshing glasses of lemonade which they gratefully accepted and then excused herself.  Edward complained about the heat.  “It will be even hotter tomorrow,” Mr. Hoyt predicted, mopping his brow with his handkerchief.  Susannah vigorously applied her fan to her face and sipped more lemonade.  Once everyone was settled, Mr. Hoyt began his report.  He launched into a twenty minute summary of a laundry list of expenses: everything from feed for the mules, to staples such as coffee, sugar and lard for the camp’s cook, to blasting caps and redwood support beams, right down to soap for the washhouse.  He then followed up with a summary of the mine’s overall productivity and steady income.  It was a lot of information to take in.  Susannah had never given much thought to the complexity of running a mining camp.  There were so many details, and she gave Mr. Hoyt her full attention, interrupting him with occasional questions.  Mansfield followed the conversation with keen interest, but for reasons all his own.  The ledgers confirmed what the assay analysis had predicted: at present, the quality of the ore being mined close to the surface was yielding an acceptable level of gold to be deemed a sound investment.  The widow Susannah was sitting on a sizable fortune.   

All was in order, as Jack knew it would be.  “Mr. Hoyt,” said Jack, “it is most gratifying to hear your favorable independent analysis of the mine’s financial health.”

“Yes, now then,” Hoyt continued, clearing his throat, “If I may…”  He leaned over a ledger sheet and smoothly slid one finger down a column of figures, as if searching for a particular entry.  It appeared that Mr. Hoyt was not yet finished.  Jack was completely blindsided by the unexpected observation that came next.  The accountant noted a couple of transactions that seemed questionable for a gold mining business.  Among them, two bank drafts of $100 each, written August 9
th
, and made out to one Madam Delilah and one Mary Dempsey.  Mansfield jumped on this information like a dog on a bone.  Any opportunity to discredit or undercut his rival must not be wasted.  When Jack looked bad, he looked good.

             
“Who is Madam Delilah?” Mansfield asked innocently, his expression bland, while knowing full well who she was.

             
“I find that Madam Delilah appears to run a brothel in Pine Creek.  Mary Dempsey is her employee,” Hoyt answered factually.

             
“What?” said Susannah in alarm, as she blushed with embarrassment.

             
“It is not what you think,” said Jack, as he wrestled with how much information to reveal.

             
“Paying prostitutes?” said Mansfield with a sneer.  “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.  What kind of shenanigans are these?  What kind of business are you running?  While we are all mourning the death of your friend and business partner, you’re off having a liaison with common prostitutes?  And you have the cheek to pay for your entertainment out of company funds!  Disgraceful!”  He turned to Susannah who was seated next to him, smoothly taking her hand in his with dramatic flair.  “I am sorry you had to learn of this, my dear,” he told her with a look of concern on his face.  He gave her hand a meaningful squeeze and his eyes bored into hers.  She understood.  He would be her protector.

             
“I can explain,” Jack insisted, but seeds of doubt about his honesty, integrity and good judgment had already rooted in the landscape of Susannah’s mind.

             
“I can’t wait to hear this,” Mansfield muttered sarcastically.

             
“Are you through, Mansfield?” said Jack angrily.  “Yes, two prostitutes were paid out of company funds recently.  A miner in our employ roughed up one of the prostitutes at Madam Delilah’s establishment.  The managers and I agreed that financial compensation seemed to be in order.  We were obligated to do something.  The employee is no longer with us, much to everyone’s relief.  We believe this matter has been satisfactorily settled.”

             
“Shady dealings if you ask me,” Mansfield commented with a superior smirk.  “You led us to believe you went back to the mine to conduct an investigation.  Whatever happened to that idea?” Mansfield continued in an effort to keep the pot of controversy stirred up.

             
“A detective has been hired.  There are a lot of witnesses to be interviewed, but we are making progress,” Jack said evenly, while offering no further details.  “May we return to the topic of Mr. Hoyt’s report?”  But the three of them now eyed Jack with speculation and general distrust. 

             
“Susannah, as co-owner of the business, you have certain rights,” said Edward most solicitously.  “Until you become more confident in your role, and until the investigation into what happened is completed, you must insist on frequent financial reports of an independent nature, like the one just given by Mr. Hoyt.  At this point, it is impossible to tell who is to blame for Thomas’s death and who will be answerable for it.  Who knows what the investigation will uncover?”  

             
“What are you getting at, Mansfield?  Do you have a list of possible suspects?  If so, let’s hear them.  Otherwise, I can assure you, that the financial transactions in question were an isolated incident.  There is nothing wrong with the way the mine is being managed,” Jack insisted as he defended himself.  It was evident that Mansfield was on a campaign to convince Susannah to distrust him.  Might she suspect him of being involved in Thomas’s death?  It was a lowering thought, indeed.  “Mr. Hoyt, did you discover any other irregularities?” Jack inquired.

             
“No,” was all the answer Hoyt gave.

             
But Mansfield would not leave the topic alone.  He kept gnawing away at the bone.  “You know, Susannah, I am to return home in a few days, however reluctant I am to do so.  You may wish to have all future bank drafts co-signed by yourself, for peace of mind.”  He spoke to Susannah as though Jack was not even in the room.

             
“Well…” Susannah began.  “For peace of mind…”

             
“Is that really necessary?”  Jack interrupted.  “Thomas never co-signed the drafts.”

             
“What could possibly be wrong with my suggestion?” Mansfield asked.  “Surely you have nothing to hide from Susannah.”

             
The conversation was not going well.  Jack felt more and more like he was between a rock and a hard place.  “Did you ever own a business, Mansfield?” he asked. 

Of course he had never owned a business – the thought of work put him in a foul mood.  But he would never admit the truth.  “I run an estate, a successful sheep farm, that is business enough,” Edward smoothly replied.

“Having two co-signers for every transaction bogs things down,” said Jack. 

But to Susannah this was a weak defense.  She had doubts and thought Jack was withholding valuable information, hoarding the details as if they were gold nuggets.  At the same time, she could plainly see that the war of words between Edward and Jack would come to no good if allowed to escalate further.  So she spoke up.  “Please stop your bickering,” she said with conviction, admonishing them both.  “It is ungentlemanly.  Let me think on it.”  Susannah took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.  “I can see how it might bog things down as you say, Jack.  But all the same, Edward’s advice is sound.  If I am to be an informed partner, I need to have knowledge of the expenses before the drafts are written.  I must think on it.”  These last words were directed at Jack and determination flickered in her gaze.

With this, Mansfield relaxed a fraction.  Jack seemed satisfied with her decision.  She would think on it and that was something.  This meeting had given her a glimpse of what the future held if she pursued this path.  The petite young artist in the plain black dress had put both of them on notice and had summed up her position very concisely.  She was far more intelligent than he liked.  The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed two. 

Susannah turned to Mr. Hoyt.  “Thank you for your very detailed report and for spending so much time preparing it.  You have been most helpful.  I am sure I will be calling on you again very soon,” she said, extending her hand.

“You are most welcome,” Hoyt responded as he clasped her hand.  Then with a slight bow, he added, “If there is nothing further, I will take my leave.  Good day, Mrs. Sprague, gentlemen,” he said politely.  He gathered up his papers and then let himself out.

Following Mr. Hoyt’s departure, there was a moment of awkward silence.  “May I offer you gentlemen more lemonade?” Susannah asked politely.  It
was
a hot day, too hot, and while she did not want to prolong this meeting, given the strained relations between Edward and Jack, she did want to convey her appreciation to both men for the many ways they had helped her. 

“Thank you, Susannah, but I must be on my way,” Jack answered.  Then, turning to Edward he said, “I wish you a safe journey on your trip home.”  The men shook hands.  “It’s nice to have made your acquaintance,” he lied.

“For me as well,” Edward said evenly.  “Until next time,” he added, as if to warn Jack that his absence would not be permanent.

“Let me walk you out, Jack,” said Susannah as she stood.  “And please know that I am most grateful to both of you for your guidance and support through all of this.  You have been good friends.  Your help has meant a lot to me.”  Jack smiled and nodded.

“I am always at your service, Susannah,” said Edward. 

Jack and Susannah left the parlor.  “You are returning to the mine then?” Susannah asked. 

“Yes, tomorrow, but only for a few days.  I must check on the progress of the investigation.  It will be a relief to escape from this heat.  You may want to consider allowing me to escort you on a tour of the place, when you feel you are ready, of course.  It might be helpful for you to see the business side of things.  And this will give the managers and I the opportunity to answer any questions you may have,” said Jack.  Although he was still resolved that a mining camp was no place for a woman, he had to accept that she was his partner now.  It would be better for all concerned for Susannah to be as well informed as possible. 

“That is a good suggestion,” she replied without making a commitment.  Today had been very tiring, the information she received from Mr. Hoyt, overwhelming.  She was not yet ready to delve deeper or obligate herself any further.  Jack opened the door, ushering in a blast of hot air.  His brown hair fell over his hard brow.   His white linen shirt was opened slightly at the neck, exposing the perspiration on taut muscles.  The faint shadow of a beard dusted his square jaw.

“What you did, to help the prostitutes, it was noble of you,” said Susannah.

“Then you approve?” he asked.

“Of course I approve.  No man should ever be allowed to take his fist to a woman.  I hope you catch the disgusting brute.” 

“We are working on it,” Jack replied.  He stared down at her with an intensity that was unnerving.  “You must trust me, Susannah,” he added.  “And please do not worry so.  Take one day at a time.”

“There is much on my mind,” she admitted. 

Jack stepped quietly through the doorway.  His back was broad and muscular.  Unexpectedly he turned around, facing her once more.  “I failed to mention, the men and I took up a collection for Mr. Schultz’s widow, to help tide her over for a while until she decides what to do.”

Susannah was taken aback by this revelation – it was thoughtful, considerate, another surprising development.  “That was very kindhearted of you and the others.  So very generous.  And I am sure she appreciated your help.  When you return to town, perhaps you will accompany me to see her.  It is past time for me to do that.” 

“As you wish,” he said, as he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.  He was leaving on a high note and hoped that perhaps he had redeemed himself as least somewhat, in her estimation.  He closed the door and Susannah was left standing alone in the hallway.