Bound by a Child

Hoping to overcome her reputation as Leadville, Colorado’s biggest gossip, wealthy socialite Flora Montgomery offers to help a miner care for an abandoned child. But her growing affection for the sweet boy’s handsome rescuer could be a problem. Especially since her parents insist she must marry for money.

Undercover mine owner George Baxter is digging himself into a dilemma. The once-spoiled Flora has become a delightful, generous woman, and she’ll be devastated by his deception. Yet if he can’t discover who’s sabotaging the mine, George will lose any chance of making a home for Flora and Pierre. Can the little boy who holds both their hearts help them lay claim to a new dream of family?

“He wants me to sing, doesn’t he?”

George looked over at Flora, who smiled broadly.

“It would appear so.” She gave the little boy an affectionate look and, once again, George was struck by how readily she opened her heart to a child who needed it.

Pierre tugged at his hand. “J’enseigne!”

George looked at Flora for translation.

“He said he will teach you.” Her words came out with a slight giggle, like she found the prospect delightful.

Fortunately, almost every child probably knew the familiar folk song, or at least that was what George thought. “I don’t sing as well as you, but I think I can manage.”

He began to sing the first few bars, then Flora and Pierre joined in.

Maybe it was wrong of him to think so, but as they strolled through the crowded area of the mine, holding hands with Pierre, who was exuberantly swinging his arms, probably in hope that they’d pick him up and swing him between them again, this felt like everything he’d always hoped for in a family of his own.

Dear Reader,

We all know Flora was the nemesis of a lot of our Leadville ladies. Why couldn’t I have left well enough alone and let her be the horrible woman everyone hated? Because, as a good friend and I discussed, it’s in my nature to want to redeem everyone. I want to believe that someone like Flora, whom everyone hates, has something good in her, and that God can transform all those bad places to reveal that beautiful thing inside her no one else has seen.

Can everyone be redeemed? I believe, with all of my heart, that if you want to be redeemed, and you seek God’s guidance, then you absolutely can and will find redemption.

My prayer for you is that if you find yourself far from God, regretting mistakes of your past, that you will turn your face toward Him, and you will realize the light of His love shining upon you.

I always love hearing from my readers, so feel free to connect with me at the following places:

Website: www.danicafavorite.com

Twitter: Twitter.com/danicafavorite

Instagram: Instagram.com/danicafavorite

Facebook: www.Facebook.com/DanicaFavoriteAuthor

Abundant blessings to you and yours,

Danica Favorite

DANICA FAVORITE loves the adventure of living a creative life. She loves to explore the depths of human nature and follow people on the journey to happily-ever-after. Though the journey is often bumpy, those bumps refine imperfect characters as they live the life God created them for. Oops, that just spoiled the ending of Danica’s stories. Then again, getting there is all the fun. Find her at danicafavorite.com.

An Unlikely Mother

Danica Favorite

www.millsandboon.co.uk

I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through Him who gives me strength.

—Philippians 4:11–13

The Harlequin.com online community has been a part of my writing journey since day one. You guys are not just my job, but a second family, and I love you all dearly. I’ve been waiting to write the perfect book that encapsulates what a precious part of my journey you’ve been, but I’ve finally come to the conclusion that I’d need at least a thousand books to tell each of the very wonderful stories I’ve gotten to be a part of. Thank you all for the role you play in my life, each other’s lives and in the books you’ve brought and will bring to the world.

And, Rae, your time is coming!

Keep the faith. Love you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Leadville, Colorado, 1883

Stark raving mad. If Flora Montgomery had to describe herself in this latest scheme, that’s what she would say she was. Oh, she’d done some crazy things in the past. Horrible things. But nothing so insane as agreeing to spend the summer in a mining camp helping the less fortunate.

Like everything else in her life, it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

The baby’s wail pierced her ears again.

She stared at the little creature in her arms. “I’m sorry. They should have asked someone else to hold you. I’ve never held a baby before, and I know I’m doing a terrible job, but could you please have a little mercy?”

Unfortunately, her words only served to send more tears rolling down the baby’s cheeks, making Flora want to cry herself. Please, Lord, I know I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life, but surely this poor child doesn’t deserve to suffer because of it.

Why had the other women thought that leaving Flora alone with a baby was a good idea? When they’d gone to unload a wagon, Mrs. Willoughby handed her this baby and told her to stay at the cabin with her.

Flora sighed. It wasn’t that they’d thought having her take care of a baby was a good idea, but that none of them wanted to be stuck with Flora. Which left Flora here with this tiny creature she knew nothing about.

Surely the other ladies would return soon.

Glancing down the well-worn path the women had taken only left Flora feeling more miserable. If they returned and saw what a terrible job she was doing in minding the baby, they’d have one more crime to throw at her feet.

That was the trouble with being the most hated woman in town. Once people found an excuse to hate you, it seemed everything else only served to validate that opinion. She should know. Not too long ago, Flora’s words were the ones the women hung on, her opinions dictating everyone else’s place in society. But she had been cruel in her judgments of others, shunning women who were now the ones everyone else looked up to. When Flora had hurt one too many people with her actions, they’d turned on her. And rightly so. But no matter how many times Flora said she was sorry, or tried to show that she’d changed, it didn’t seem to make a difference.

How, then, was Flora supposed to redeem herself?

Surely it wasn’t impossible. After all, Emma Jane Jackson, once tormented for being poor, uncomely and awkward, was now one of the most respected women in their group, married to one of the handsomest, wealthiest men in town. A man Flora had once hoped to marry. Virtue over beauty. Apparently that was what men valued in women these days. And since Flora had little of the former, and a great deal of the latter, she’d finally begun to accept that unless she changed her ways, she’d never find a husband of her own.

Since the baby had yet to cease its crying, Flora walked toward the nearby stream. Maybe the sound of water would soothe the poor thing. Not finding a husband was the least of Flora’s worries. After all, a husband meant children, and clearly, from the way this one carried on, Flora would make a terrible mother.

Prior to the great social revolution in Leadville, Flora would have been confident in the idea of motherhood; after all, she would hire the finest nanny from New York, or London or perhaps even Paris. But now, the women in her circle all chose to raise their children themselves, bringing even the smallest babies to help out at the mission, tied around them in some sort of apparatus to hold them against their bodies, leaving the women’s hands free to work.

One more reason Flora didn’t fit in. She’d had a nanny growing up, as did all the girls she’d known, but she’d also had no siblings, no babies to tend. Which was why she had no idea what to do with the squalling creature in her arms.

“Is everything all right, ma’am?” A miner, dressed in work clothes that were shabby but clean, approached.

“I...” Flora looked down at the baby. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

The man reached for the child. “Let me see what I can do. I’ve been told I have a way with little ones.”

Glancing toward the path the women had taken, Flora’s stomach dipped. What would the other women say if she handed the baby over to a strange man? It didn’t seem possible that they could hate her any more, but they always seemed to find a way.

“I shouldn’t,” Flora said, trying to ignore the way the baby’s face turned redder and redder. “Her mother might not like me letting a stranger take her.”

Smiling, the man took a step toward her. “A wise decision. I’m...” He paused. “George. George, uh...Baxter.”

The man, George, looked nervous. Flora had learned that many people came to these parts to escape a past they were ashamed of. Unfortunately, when one’s past was in a place where everyone else came to hide, there was no hiding it.

So this George Baxter, probably not his real name, well, Flora wasn’t going to judge his secrets. But she wasn’t going to simply hand him someone else’s baby, either.

Even if she wasn’t sure her ears would ever recover from the high-pitched screaming.

“Flora Montgomery. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Baxter. I do appreciate your offer, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t be proper.”

Another smile filled his face. “Could I make a suggestion, then?”

“It would be most welcome. I’m sure it couldn’t hurt at this point.” Flora sighed, looking at the wailing baby once more.

“You’re holding her wrong,” George said. “Cradle her gently next to you, like so.”

He bent down and picked up a large stick and demonstrated.

Flora shook her head. “I tried that, and the baby cried even worse.”

“Does she need to uh...” George shifted, looking more uncomfortable than he had at saying his name. “...belch?”

She wasn’t allowed to say that word in polite company. Let alone discuss those particular things with a man. But she did need to find a way to get the baby to quiet down.

“How am I supposed to know that? The baby doesn’t talk.”

If he sensed her irritation, he didn’t show it. His face held a look of kindness and gentleness. Patience. The kind of man Flora would like to get to know, were he not so far outside her social station. A pity, since the harder Flora had worked on improving her character, the less appealing those in her social station seemed to be.

Eyes twinkling, George held the stick to his shoulder. “Put the baby against your shoulder, like so, and gently pat her back.”

George reached forward and tapped her arm lightly. “Like this.”

What sort of man would be so...kind...as to go so far to help a woman in distress when it was a matter in which most men would never be involved?

Flora had seen mothers pat their babies like that. She imitated the action. The baby obliged by letting out a large belch. Then another.

And then she promptly emptied the contents of her stomach on one of Flora’s best dresses.

But at least she finally stopped crying.

With a smile, George untied the kerchief from around his neck and handed it to her. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you. You don’t know anything about babies, do you?”

“I’ve never held a baby in my life.” Flora brushed at the mess with the handkerchief with one hand, while trying to balance the now-happy, squirming baby with the other.

The handkerchief did little to mop up the mess. No wonder so many of the women of her acquaintance wore such unsightly aprons. At least their dresses could be salvaged. “Do they all expel such...”

George chuckled, and reached for the baby again. She shouldn’t let him, but she had no idea how she was supposed to not drop the baby and get the foul-smelling liquid off herself. How did other women manage? Surely it wouldn’t hurt to let this man help her for just a moment. If he didn’t look like a miner, she’d think him a gentleman for sure. Hadn’t he already demonstrated a level of civility that went beyond what most people would do?

Giving her a charming smile as she relinquished the baby, he said, “I believe they do. Though this little one seemed to be more enthusiastic in her efforts.”

Flora used her now-free hand to finish cleaning herself off, but it seemed like she was only making a bigger mess of things.

“There’s water in my canteen.” George pointed to an object resting against a tree. “Feel free to use it all. The creek’s not too far.”

So many rules of propriety were being breached in this situation. But as Flora used the water to cleanse the remaining mess, she found she honestly didn’t care. With only the water and handkerchief to clean up, she knew she was doing a fair job, at best.

Flora watched as George cuddled the baby, chattering at her and pointing to things. She would never have imagined that a man would be so good with a baby. She shook her head. One more reason she shouldn’t judge by appearances. The same way people would have assumed that as a woman, Flora would know what to do with one.

“Do you have children of your own?” Flora asked, handing him back the handkerchief.

“No.” George gave her a warm smile, and for the first time, she realized that the man was quite handsome, indeed. He had blue eyes that crinkled at the edges, and though his dark brown hair was unruly, she found the way it curled at his collar quite attractive. Even the stubble on his chin made him seem...well, masculine, adding to his charm.

“But I have a nephew, and I’ve always gotten on with children. Even now, when I attend church, no matter where I go, the children seem to congregate around me.”

He tickled the baby under her chin, making her giggle. “Babies aren’t so hard, really. They just need to know that they’re safe and loved. The reason you’re having so much trouble is that you’re nervous. Babies can sense that.”

Flora sighed, watching how comfortable he was with the baby in his arms. “I suppose. I just don’t think she likes me much. Most people don’t.”

The sound of chatter in the distance reminded Flora of her duty, and that the returning women would not appreciate the fact that she’d allowed a strange man to hold the baby.

“Thank you for your assistance,” Flora said, holding out her hands. “I should take her now.”

“You are most welcome, Flora Montgomery,” he said softly, his breath a whisper on her cheek as he placed the baby in her arms. “And if it’s any consolation, I like you just fine.”

Her face heated as she shifted the baby and stepped away. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been soon enough for the returning women.

“Flora Montgomery! How dare you canoodle with a strange man while watching my precious Ethel!” Mrs. Willoughby marched up to her and snatched the baby out of her arms.

“I didn’t—” Flora couldn’t finish her sentence as her gaze drifted to the other women standing around, staring at her like she was some fallen woman.

Was this how others had felt when Flora had lashed out at them for what Flora had considered improper behavior? Oh, how she wished she could go back and change the way she’d reacted to situations she’d known nothing about. Accuse first and make apologies never, that had been the way of things. How wrong she’d been.

“Ma’am, I can assure you, there was nothing improper between myself and Miss Montgomery. Little Ethel had a slight accident on Miss Montgomery’s shoulder, and I was helping her clean up the mess.” He held up his soiled handkerchief, as though proving his case.

“Ethel was ill?” Horror flashed across Mrs. Willoughby’s face as she examined the baby.

Flora was nearly concerned herself, except for George’s chuckle.

“I’m sure it’s no cause to worry, ma’am. Looked to be a typical baby spit-up to me. Just a lot of it.”

“And what are you, a doctor?” Mrs. Willoughby glared at him. At the negative shake of his head, she turned and marched to the cabin.

Feeling the gazes of the others strongly upon her, Flora turned to him and smiled. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Baxter. Your kindness is much appreciated, and I will remember it always. I should get back to work. After all, that’s why I came.”

She directed that last comment at the other women, forcing a smile despite the sinking feeling that, with even this small task, she’d once again failed to meet their standards.

George smiled at her. It was a shame the man was a miner. He’d been kind, helpful and he was the first man in a long time who’d treated her like she was anything but the disappointment everyone else saw her as. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, despite her less than joyous mood. He was also quite pleasant to look at.

But even if they could find something in common, her family and the rest of society would never approve of her marrying someone so far removed from their world.

Still, it had been nice to have someone treat her like a human being for a change. If only she could get the rest of society to do the same.

* * *

Flora Montgomery. As he lived and breathed. George Baxter Bellingham would never have expected to run into her in the mining camp. For a moment, he’d been afraid his former nemesis would recognize him, but then he remembered that he was no longer the pudgy little boy all the kids tormented. Besides, Flora had moved from Denver to Leadville several years ago, and they hadn’t seen each other since. Part of him felt bad for deceiving her about his identity, but he hadn’t exactly lied. He’d given her his first and middle names, but not his last. Fortunately, his middle name was his mother’s maiden name, so it sounded like a real name.

Right now, he couldn’t afford to have anyone, most of all Flora, know his real name. Flora’s father was once George’s father’s best friend, but the two men had had a falling-out years ago, shortly before the Montgomerys moved to Leadville.

Though George didn’t know what had happened, he did know that John Montgomery was considered an enemy of the family. With George’s father now gone, it was up to George to figure out what was going wrong at the family’s mine, and he wasn’t sure if the Montgomerys could be trusted. A young lady of Flora’s station would obviously know nothing about her father’s business, but all it would take was a careless mention of running into George, and his carefully crafted plan would fall apart. John Montgomery most likely wouldn’t recognize George for the same reasons Flora hadn’t.

He watched her retreat, noting that the years since their childhood had been kind to her. She’d grown into a graceful young woman, and he’d heard tales of her beauty long before this meeting. The tales had not done her justice. No longer the knobby-kneed, freckle-faced brat who once poked fun at him for sport, Flora had acquired not only beauty, but a gentility that drew him.

Back in his debutante-chasing days, Flora would have been exactly the sort of woman George would pursue. But those days were over, thanks to his father’s death and subsequent rumors that the mine was having financial troubles. His former fiancée, Shannon, had given him back his ring with the sickeningly sweet suggestion that he might need the money from selling it.

No more debutantes or any other kind of socialite for George.

Even if he found a way to straighten out his family’s finances, he didn’t want a wife who could only love him in the “for richer” part of their vows. Women like Flora expected a certain kind of life, a life he wasn’t sure he could provide. If he’d learned anything from this experience, it was that a man’s fortune could change more quickly than anyone could imagine, and regardless of how things turned out for him financially, he needed to know his future wife would be happy in any circumstance.

Still... Flora Montgomery. Tempting. He’d liked the way she’d taken on caring for a baby when she had no idea what she was doing. Even though she’d been utterly disgusted with the baby spitting up on her, she still had a sweet smile for little Ethel. The last thing Flora had wanted to do was take care of a baby, that was obvious, but he’d seen her genuine concern for the child.

Of course, he had to remember that he wasn’t George Bellingham, welcome in parlors of the finest families, but George Baxter, lowly miner, and from the way Flora had recoiled at his acquaintance, he wouldn’t be invited to tea anytime soon. As tempting as it was to get to know her better, he wasn’t going to go down that path. The likes of Flora Montgomery were only interested in men who could advance their social standing. Even if George’s plan worked, he wanted no part of a woman who couldn’t love a man for who he was. Call him sentimental, but his parents had married long before they’d had money, and theirs was one of the best marriages he’d ever seen.

Shannon had done him a favor, giving him his ring back. And he wasn’t planning on giving it to anyone else who could only see a man for his bank account or social standing.

Neither of which would amount to much if he didn’t figure out who was sabotaging operations at the mine. A couple weeks ago, an entire tunnel had caved in, narrowly avoiding killing several workers. His brother-in-law, Arthur, had told him that it was the cost of doing business, and these things happened sometimes. But that wasn’t how George’s father had done business, and had it not been for a runaway carriage, he’d still be here to make things right.

Which left the task up to George.

His mother had been badly injured in the carriage accident, and her medical bills and treatments were costly. Arthur was busy handling the family’s other business interests, which were also inexplicably losing money. Though Arthur had insisted that George remain at Harvard, pursuing his studies so that he could eventually take his place in the family businesses, George couldn’t sit back and watch his family lose everything.

Arthur might be too busy to get to the bottom of the troubles at the mine, but George wasn’t. How could he continue spending money that the family might not have much longer? His mother needed the medical care. His sister was expecting another baby. No, the answer was not to bury himself in the books, but in this mine.

Folks used to say that Elias Bellingham was far too generous in his dealings with others, and that it would someday send him to the poorhouse. Which was why, Arthur had told him, the family business was nearly bankrupt again.

Didn’t George owe it to his father’s legacy to see if he could turn things around at the mine?

A faint whimper on the other side of the tree where he’d laid his canteen caught his attention. As George rounded the tall pine that hadn’t yet been claimed by the camp for fuel or building material, he spied a little boy sitting in the hollow near a boulder a few yards away.

“Hey, little guy,” George said softly as he approached. “Are you all right?”

The small boy couldn’t be more than three or four years old, the same age as his nephew, Sam.

A tear-stained face stared up at him, longing thick in the child’s eyes. He spoke rapidly, but the words were foreign to George. All he could understand was, “Père.”

Father. George had taken a few French lessons, but he’d been terrible at it. Many of his peers had had French nannies, learning the language as part of daily life. But the Bellinghams had gone with a more traditional English nanny. Which did him little good now.

Since the boy looked like he was about to start crying again, George knelt beside him. Maybe the boy spoke English. “Parlez-vous Anglais?”

The little boy shook his head. Great. That was about the extent of the French he could remember, other than a few words that didn’t seem helpful here.

Pointing to himself, he said, “George.”

Then he pointed at the little boy.

“Pierre,” the boy said.

Then the boy began speaking again in rapid French. George shook his head and pointed to himself again. “No parlez Français.”

Hopefully it was enough to convey to the boy that he didn’t understand. The boy nodded slowly as tears continued rolling down his cheeks.

George pointed to himself again. “George...help...Pierre.” Wait. What was the word for help? “Aid?”

That seemed to get Pierre’s attention, or at least stop the flow of tears.

Pierre pointed at George’s canteen.

“Are you thirsty?”

Silly of him to ask, since Pierre probably didn’t know the word. George held out the canteen, mostly empty from Flora’s use, but there was a little water to spare.

Pierre drank the water quickly, then pointed to his stomach.

What was the word for hungry? Back when George was pudgy, everything had been about food. “Faim?”

Hopefully he wasn’t telling Pierre something awful. But Pierre nodded, so George took that as a good sign.

Judging by the fact that the little boy was alone and crying, George was going to assume he’d somehow gotten separated from his father. But how was he supposed to find a little boy’s father when he’d barely arrived at the mining camp himself? He’d been here just long enough to pitch a tent and gain employment at the mine.

Flora. She was here with the church mission. Perhaps the people at the church mission would know of anyone who spoke French who could... George smiled. Flora had a French nanny when they were children. She used to brag about how her nanny was superior to everyone else’s because of it. She and her friends would speak in French, giving themselves airs and using it as a means to exclude the other children. Back then, he’d found it annoying.

But now, it just might save this little boy’s life. Flora could help him care for the boy and translate so they could find Pierre’s father.

George gave Pierre a smile. “Pierre come with George. Manger.” At least that’s what he thought the word for eat was. He held out his hand.

Clearly the love of food that had led to George’s torment as a child was helping him now. Pierre smiled back and took George’s hand.

George had never imagined he’d be so grateful for Flora Montgomery. When they were children, she’d teased him and tormented him mercilessly. Who knew that Flora’s annoying affectation from the past might very well be the thing he needed most right now? While pursuing his newfound attraction to her was still out of the question, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to seeing her again.

George ruffled the little boy’s hair. He wished he could convey something more to him, to make him feel comfortable, but at least Flora could do that. Despite the complication of meeting Flora so early in his quest, knowing that she could be the one person to expose him, she would also be a great asset. People might say that Elias Bellingham’s weakness was his concern for others, but George was grateful his father had passed on that trait to him. He wouldn’t feel right leaving Pierre until his father had been found, and Flora’s help would make it easier for George to help Pierre and accomplish his own mission. As long as he could keep Flora from learning his real reason for being in the camp.

Though he hoped to find Pierre’s father quickly, George was going to enjoy every moment he spent in Flora’s company until then.

Chapter Two

Flora was able to slip away to the creek to wash after her baby-minding disaster. Though how she was going to accomplish a good cleansing and change her dress out in the open, she had no idea. The place was private enough, or so some of the other ladies had said. But was this another of their tricks, like Lindsay Carmichael goading her into bringing her best dresses instead of work clothes?

Not that she had anything that could be considered work clothes. Flora sighed. Perhaps it had been a mistake to think that redemption would come to someone like her.

“Flora?” Rose Jones walked down the embankment carrying a bundle. “I heard you’d come this way.”

Of course it would have to be Rose. Flora sighed. Of all the people she’d injured with her thoughtless words, Rose had been hurt the worst. And though Rose had said she’d forgiven Flora, and was polite, if not kind, to her, Flora always wondered if she could truly count on Rose as a friend.

“I was hoping to wash up. My dress smells.” Flora pointed at her soiled silk gown, a yellow stain spreading across the pale pink fabric. It was probably ruined.

Rose looked around. “It’s private enough with most of the men at work, but I wouldn’t come here much later in the day. And you shouldn’t be here alone. As much as Uncle Frank has done to keep us safe, you have to remember that many of the people here don’t have the same regard for the law and civility as we do.”

Flora stared at the ground. She’d only wanted to clean up, but it seemed there was fault in that as well.

“It’s all right,” Rose said softly, stepping forward. “You haven’t been up to the camp before, and I suspect that Lindsay didn’t give you good instructions. I’d hoped to orient you myself, but Milly was ill, so I’ve only just arrived.”

“What’s wrong with Milly?” One of Flora’s many mistakes, and ways she’d wronged Rose, had involved Rose’s stepdaughter, Milly. Before Rose married Silas, Rose had been Milly’s nanny, but because Milly’s grandparents disapproved, Flora had assisted them by trying to take over as Milly’s nanny. When Milly’s grandparents took Milly away without Rose’s permission, Flora helped them, thinking she was doing the right thing. During that time, Flora had developed a genuine affection for the little girl. Still, what Flora had done was wrong, and it was only the mercy shown by Rose and her now-husband, Silas, that had kept Flora out of jail.

Flora turned away. “I’m sorry, I don’t have the right to ask.”

“Of course you do.” Rose stepped in front of her and smiled. “I’m grateful that you care so much about her. It was just a little cold, and she’s fine now. She remained behind with Maddie, our housekeeper, but when I see her again, I’ll pass on your good wishes.”

Another friendly smile. Rose held out the bundle to Flora. “I brought you a dress. The one you’re wearing is too fine for being up here, and from the giggling I heard from the others, I suspect everything else you brought is just as nice.”

Flora gaped at Rose. Why was she being so kind to her? True, after the situation with Milly’s grandparents, part of Flora’s restitution was to help with the ministry. And Flora had worked side by side with Rose several times in the months since.

But that didn’t mean Flora deserved any sort of kindness from Rose.

“I also brought a blanket. I’ll hold it up so you can have privacy to wash up and change. You’ll have to wash quickly, but it’s better than the alternative.”

Another bright smile.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Flora made no move to accept the dress Rose held out.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Flora shrugged. “I could list a thousand reasons. I’ve been horrible to you since you came to Leadville. I don’t deserve your kindness.”

With a long sigh, Rose sat on a nearby rock. “You’re right. You’ve made my life difficult in a number of ways. But you’ve apologized and I forgave you. I’ve seen the change in your behavior over the past few months, and I know that you’ve let the Lord work in your heart. The Lord has been kind to me. How could I not be kind to you?”

“You sound a lot like Pastor Lassiter,” Flora said, meeting the other woman’s eyes. “He’s been telling me the same thing.”

“And now I know why he specifically asked me to come on this trip.” Rose smiled again, and because Flora was observing her eyes, she could see the warmth lurking there. “After my scandal of having my son out of wedlock, I thought I’d accepted the Lord’s forgiveness. I did my best to hold my head up high, knowing that God didn’t hold my sin against me. But it seemed like there were so many who were constantly reminding me of my sin.”

“Like me,” Flora said, hating the way she could still remember how she smiled as she gossiped about Rose’s misfortune. One more thing Rose should hate her for.

Rose shrugged. “You weren’t the only one. But that is exactly my point. I’ve forgiven you. It’s time for you to forgive yourself.”

She made it sound so easy. Perhaps because she didn’t know all the details of what Flora had done. Things only Flora and God knew. Even so, everyone else in town made certain to remind her of all the reasons she didn’t deserve forgiveness.

“The rest of the town doesn’t seem to agree with you.”

“It doesn’t matter. Chasing after their approval is never going to bring you happiness. What matters is that your heart is aligned with God’s, and that you live out the forgiveness He’s offered you.”

Flora let out another long sigh. What Rose said made sense, but she didn’t understand how hard it was to put into action. “But people aren’t actively shunning you or laughing at you.”

“Not in our church.” Rose stood and held out the bundle. “But there are still homes I’m not welcome in, people who make snide comments in the mercantile. Just the other day, I was at the milliner’s, and one of the ladies there noticed me and said that if they were catering to fallen women, she wouldn’t shop there anymore.”

“But that’s ridiculous. You’re a respectable woman.”

Rose shrugged. “I still had a child out of wedlock, and for some, that’s a fact they can’t get past. But I’ve dealt with my sin. God forgives me. And if others can’t move on, that’s their problem, not mine.”

Rose continued. “Now let’s hurry and get you washed and changed. I’m sure they’re missing us.”

Doing as Rose asked, Flora quickly hid under the blanket provided, cleaning up the remaining mess. When she was ready, she emerged from the blanket and held up her soiled dress.

“Is it so terrible that all I want to do is burn this dress I once begged Mother for?”

Rose smiled. “When we get back to town, we’ll have Maddie take a look. If anyone can salvage it, she can.”

As blind as Flora had once been to Rose’s warmth, she couldn’t ignore it anymore. “You really are trying to be my friend, aren’t you?”

“I know what it’s like to be the most hated woman in our circle. And I know how hard it is, once you’ve realized the error of your ways and are trying to make up for it, to be free of the stigma. If I can help you through your pain, then everything I have endured will have been worth it.”

They started back up the hill. Flora tried processing Rose’s words, but all she could think of were the wrongs she’d committed.

“But I hurt you.”

Rose stopped and stared at her. “I forgave you. So let go of the past. Until you can, you’re never going to be able to move forward in freedom.”

The cabin came into view. Flora’s stomach knotted at the thought of having to face all the others, to listen to their laughter and mockery.

“What about them?”

“If there’s someone you haven’t offered an apology to, then make haste to do so. But if you’ve sincerely gone to those you’ve offended and asked forgiveness, you’ve done your part.”

As part of her restitution, Pastor Lassiter had told her to speak with the others she’d hurt and seek forgiveness. It had been hard, and while many said they forgave her, they still didn’t treat her any differently.

“What if it doesn’t make a difference? No one believes I’ve changed.”

Rose shook her head. “Then you keep living your life with the integrity of a woman whose heart has been changed by God.”

Stepping in line with Flora, Rose linked arms with her. “But you, my friend, have got to act like you’ve moved on with your life. Shame keeps us buried in the past, and your future is with people who love and care about you.”

Flora could tell the move was deliberate on Rose’s part. After all, Flora had done the same many a time. By walking with her arm linked with Flora’s, Rose was telling everyone that she considered Flora a friend.

Looking up at Rose, Flora realized what she’d been missing out on by fearing retribution instead of accepting friendship. “Thank you for not giving up on me. I’m grateful for your willingness to guide me during this difficult time.”

Rose gave her a squeeze. “I was fortunate to have family who refused to give up on me, so I could never give up on you. Now, let’s go see about that handsome gentleman I see standing beside the cabin. I’m not one to give credence to gossip, but I am wondering if he’s the same man you were seen with earlier this afternoon.”

Flora’s face warmed at Rose’s words. A year ago, Flora would have been the one to spread the tales, and the unfortunate young woman’s reputation would have been in shambles.

“N-nothing happened,” Flora stammered. “He was just helping me. It was all proper.”

Rose gave her arm another squeeze. “Of course it was. But with all those closest to me happily married, nothing gets me more excited than a handsome young man in pursuit of one of my friends.”

Friends. As many times as Flora had thought of others as friends, this was the first she’d seen genuine interest and compassion in one. Rose’s comments weren’t about trying to get a juicy little tidbit to share with the others, but about...caring.

Then Rose smiled at her. “I think you have a suitor.”

Finally following Rose’s gaze, Flora noticed George waving at them. A young boy stood beside him. The nephew he’d mentioned?

“Come on!” Rose tugged at her arm. “I do wish to be introduced to this heroic man who came to your rescue.”

Flora hung back. “I don’t think...”

“He’s heroic and handsome. What do you have to lose?”

Flora let out a long sigh. “I’ve lost everything, I suppose. But that’s just the problem. I’m trying to gain back my old friends and their respect. I know I hurt them with my words, and I’ve apologized, but it hasn’t kept them from continuing to shun me. What will people say about me if I allow a miner to court me?”

Frowning, Rose looked at her. “I think you have it all wrong. It’s like I said earlier. Worrying about what everyone else thinks is only going to bring you more misery. You won’t be able to satisfy everyone, so live your life. Be the woman God made you to be, and let people say what they’re going to say. It’s the only way you’re going to find lasting contentment.”

George waved at them as they came closer, and though Flora kept her free hand firmly pinned to her side, she couldn’t help but smile. How long had it been since someone was so glad to see her?

Would it be so bad to pursue a friendship with him? Perhaps friendship was all George had to offer, as well.

* * *

George smiled at the ladies as they approached. Flora had changed, and there seemed to be a new lightness about her. “I see you found a new dress. Though the silk was lovely, I do like how the green in what you’re wearing brings out the color in your eyes.”

“Thank you.” Flora stepped forward, smiling. She did have a beautiful smile. He supposed it was wrong to flatter her in such a way, but he’d been telling the truth. And it seemed just as wrong to ignore what was staring him in the face.

Pastor Lassiter joined them from around the side of the cabin. “Ah, Flora and Rose. You’re back.”

“Rose was good enough to help me clean up at the river, and to lend me a more appropriate dress.” Flora smiled at the other woman, and George couldn’t help but notice how it lit up her eyes.

Pastor Lassiter smiled. “Yes, I heard about your unfortunate incident with the Willoughby baby. Good practice for when you have some of your own.”

“My own? They all do that?” The horror on her face made George want to chuckle. Only he didn’t think Flora was ready to laugh at the joke. Something in him wanted to protect her, even though she’d spent much of their childhood teasing him. He could sense that she’d changed since then.

Rose laughed. “And then some. But you’ll find it’s worth every mess. I’d forgotten you have no siblings or experience with babies. You can work with me, visiting the mothers and children. From what I’ve seen at the mission, you’re a fast learner, and by the time this month is over, you’ll be an expert at caring for children.”

“That’s actually why I’m here,” George said, indicating Pierre. “He doesn’t speak English, but I remembered—” He stopped himself. He couldn’t admit that he knew Flora spoke French. For his plan to succeed, he needed to pretend this was the first they’d met.

George took a deep breath. “I remembered that Flora was connected with the mission here, so I brought him to you in hopes that you might know someone who speaks French and can help him.”

Pastor Lassiter stepped in beside him and ruffled Pierre’s hair. “George told me about the situation with the boy, and I told him he’s come to the right place. However, I don’t speak French, so I’m at a loss as to how to help find this boy’s family.”

Though George had already promised himself he was going to keep his distance from Flora, he couldn’t help but notice the sympathy that lined her face.

“Oh, the poor dear,” Flora said, kneeling beside Pierre, then breaking into French as she spoke to him.

George looked over at Pastor Lassiter, who wore a broad smile.

“Did you know she spoke French?” George asked the older man.

“I thought I’d heard at one point that she did,” Pastor Lassiter admitted. “But I wasn’t certain if she knew enough to converse with the boy. I see that she can do so, very well indeed.”

Flora smiled at them as she stood, holding Pierre’s hand. “This is Pierre, as I’m sure you know. He is four years old. His father works in the mine, but he hasn’t come home for several days. Pierre went to look for his father, but he got lost. When George found him, he’d come to the creek for some water, but he got scared since it was moving so quickly. So it was a good thing George happened upon him when he did, because as I explained to Pierre, the creek is a very dangerous place for little boys.”

She pulled Pierre closer to her, genuine affection shining in her eyes. Flora had definitely changed from the bratty girl he’d known as a child. So much warmth radiated from her, it was hard to imagine that people didn’t like her.

“Pierre tells me that you gave him something to eat, so now all we need to do is find the poor boy’s father. I told Pierre that his father is probably just as worried about him as Pierre is about his father.”

Once again, George was struck by Flora’s gentility and warmth. Though she addressed George, Pastor Lassiter and Rose, she kept smiling down at Pierre and giving him reassuring touches.

“I can’t imagine we have too many Frenchmen here,” Flora said. “Could you ask around to see where his father might be?”

Pastor Lassiter nodded slowly. “Of course. I haven’t run into anyone from France up here, which is why I’m grateful we have Flora to translate.”

“Me, too,” George added. “I know you’re not comfortable around little ones, but I only know a few words, and they aren’t very helpful.”

Once again, the smile George had grown to love so much filled Flora’s face. “Oh, I like little ones. I had a brief opportunity to be a nanny to the most darling little girl.” Her face darkened briefly, and she looked at Rose, but Rose smiled at her, chasing whatever clouded Flora’s thoughts away, and happiness returned to her face. “I just don’t know anything about babies.”

Pierre tugged at Flora’s skirt and she bent down to him, once again speaking French. Her words were melodic, almost like poetry. George could listen to her talk, even not knowing what she said, and remain enraptured for hours.

She turned her attention back to them and said, “I think Pierre is overwhelmed by all of this. Is there a quiet place where we can take him?”

“Of course.” Pastor Lassiter gestured toward the cabin. “Why don’t you and Pierre stay in the cabin until we can find his parents. Did he say anything about his mother?”

Flora asked the boy, whose expression became even more despondent as he answered. “She recently passed away. That’s why it was only him and his father.”

Pierre started to cry, and Flora hugged him close. “Apparently his father is all he had left,” she said, looking up at the others. “We simply must find him.”

The expression on her face made George want to cry himself. Though he hadn’t lost his father until adulthood, George couldn’t imagine what it would be like for this little boy, who’d already lost his mother, to also be missing his father.

“I know I’m new here,” George said, “but what can I do to help? Can we make signs?”

Pastor Lassiter shook his head. “Many of our miners can’t read, or don’t read English, so that would be futile. Besides—” he let out a long sigh “—it wouldn’t be unheard-of that the father simply left his child. There’s many a man who finds himself overwhelmed with the prospect of raising a child on his own, and without a relative to take over, sometimes he abandons him.”

“I won’t believe it,” Flora declared hotly. “Not Pierre. He’s too dear a boy.” She bent down to him, whispering something in French.

Amazing. She barely knew the boy, and already Flora protected him with the fierceness of a mother. Though George had sworn off chasing after the pampered young ladies of his class, he had to admit that were it not for his uncertain financial future, and the people counting on him, he might be willing to consider the idea of Flora Montgomery. Someone with such compassion was worth taking a look at.

George shook his head. What was he thinking? He had a mystery at his mine to solve, and now this child’s father to find. It was crazy to think that he could pursue a romantic relationship, even if he was free to do so.

“I can’t believe someone would simply abandon Pierre, either,” George said, smiling at Flora. “If you’ll be so good as to continue caring for him, I’ll do my part to find his father. I start work at the Pudgy Boy Mine tomorrow, but I’m at your disposal tonight. If we can’t find Pierre’s father, I’ll be sure to ask the men at the mine if they know him, and in my free time I’ll join in any effort to locate him. I know it’s a big place, but surely, with all of us working together, we’ll have Pierre reunited with his father in no time.”

The delight on Flora’s face was almost worth the time it would take away from George’s own investigation. Except...the two weren’t mutually exclusive. It would be a lot less suspicious if people saw George poking around, knowing he was looking for a missing man. Hopefully they’d find Pierre’s father soon, so the excuse might not last long, but at least for now, it would give George the ability to look around and ask questions and have a good reason for doing so.

“Wonderful,” Pastor Lassiter said. “Let’s get this boy settled with Flora in the cabin, and then I can show you around, introduce you to some of the other men, and we can come up with a plan for finding Pierre’s father.”

Pastor Lassiter clapped him on the back, and for a moment, George almost felt guilty for not being completely honest about who he was and why he was here. This was a man of God, after all, and it somehow seemed more wrong to maintain his charade. But how else was George supposed to get to the truth about the accidents at the mine? People had been hurt in two separate incidents, and George couldn’t countenance the idea of someone being killed.

He followed the pastor, Rose, Flora and Pierre to the cabin, watching how the little boy clung to Flora’s hand. What if something happened to Pierre’s father and George could have stopped it? As the mine owner, he was responsible. Suddenly his quest to find out what was happening at the mine and prevent further accidents became much more personal.

Pierre turned to look at George, and George gave the little boy a smile. Yes, he would help find Pierre’s father. But he would also make sure Pierre’s father continued to be safe when he worked.

Chapter Three

Not only had the previous night’s search for Pierre’s father been a waste of time, but George had never experienced such a fruitless day at work. The mine manager who’d hired him wasn’t in, and George had spent the entire day hauling rock, backbreaking work that left little room for idle chatter.

Which wasn’t the answer he wanted to give Flora when she gave him that sweet smile as she asked how his day had been. Pierre played nearby, drawing pictures in the dirt with a stick.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much to report,” George said slowly, shading his eyes from the sun to watch the pastor approach.

“Sit for a spell,” Flora said, gesturing toward the log she sat upon. “I’d still like to hear how your day went, even if you didn’t have any success in locating Pierre’s father.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing that would interest you. We certainly didn’t discuss the latest fashions from Paris.” George grinned at her, and she smiled back.

“No, I don’t imagine you would have. The only thing I’m interested in from Paris right now is Pierre’s father.” Flora smiled as Pierre came running toward them, holding an earthworm he’d dug up.

Flora visibly cringed at the sight, especially as Pierre held the worm out to her. She’d never been one for anything creepy-crawly—worms, spiders, frogs, fish and even birds had always terrified her. As children, when she’d been particularly annoying, George would find a worm or insect to toss in her direction. Flora would go running into the house, crying to her mother about what a horrible boy that Pudgy Bellingham was. George couldn’t help but grin. Even though she’d teased him mercilessly, he’d own that he’d been just as bad at times.

George held out his hand to the little boy. “Can I see?” Then he looked over at Flora. “How do you ask him to let me see what he’s got?”

Relief washed over Flora’s face as she spoke to Pierre, then turned back to George. “You say, Qu’avez-vous?”

She spoke slowly, clearly. George repeated her words, then looked at Pierre, speaking them again.

The little boy’s face lit up as he ran to George, holding out the worm. “Ver!”

George glanced at Flora. “Did he just say worm?”

“He did.” Flora shuddered slightly. “Nasty little things that they are. I’m so glad to have a man around to deal with all this disgusting boy stuff. I’d forgotten that boys like playing in mud, and with bugs and all those other horrible creatures.”

“Ver. Worm,” George said, touching the worm. Pierre grinned and repeated his words.

She let out a long sigh. “But he’s such a little dear, I can’t really deny him, now, can I? Still, why can’t small boys like things such as dolls and lace?”

Looking up from examining the worm Pierre had presented to him, George smiled. “I’m sure many a mother has asked that question. Have you asked the other ladies for their advice on less disgusting ways of occupying Pierre?”

Flora looked in the direction of the cluster of tents where most of the women were congregated. “Most of them are put out that I’m in charge of Pierre’s care. I suppose I could ask Rose, but I hate to bother her, since she’s already done more than enough to help me.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. None of them, including Rose, speak French, so they really can’t communicate with him. When they try, he runs and hides in my skirts. It’s not my fault that I had a French nanny growing up.”

She sighed again, and an expression of sadness crossed her face. “I suppose it is my fault, in a way. I spent years acting superior because I’d had a French nanny and I was fluent in the language. Why would they be kindly disposed to me now?”

The resignation in her voice twisted George’s stomach. “Maybe because we all do things we regret as children.”

He’d liked to have told her that even though she’d given him a horrible nickname, one that he’d found humiliating, he knew she wasn’t that same little girl anymore. He wanted to tell her about all their childhood escapades, and how he regretted his own meanness toward her. But he wasn’t ready for the world to know that George Bellingham was here at the mining camp.

Pierre tugged at George’s pants leg and pointed to the worm. George handed it back to him, trying to divide his attention between Flora and the little boy.

“But I wasn’t a child. I was practically a grown woman, and many of the things I said to hurt others was as a woman, an adult responsible for her actions. They have every right to hate me.”

Before George could respond, Pierre nudged him, holding up the worm and a stick, using words he didn’t recognize. Except one.

Poisson. Fish.

“Is Pierre asking to go fishing?”

Flora nodded. “It seems you’re a quick study. He’s been asking all day, but as I’m sure you can imagine, I have no experience with fishing.”

“I can’t imagine you do. I’ll have to take him sometime.” George grinned. “But I’m sure you have many other fine accomplishments any young lady would be proud of.”

With a smile that seemed more bitter than pleasant, Flora said, “Yes. I am quite the accomplished young lady. The most accomplished, according to many. But a fine lot of good that does me. What good is it to move people to tears with my songs, or paint a picture, or embroider a tapestry, in a place like this? It certainly hasn’t won me any friends.”

She turned her gaze in their direction, looking longingly at the other women. They laughed at a joke someone must have told, and Flora lowered her head.

“I don’t blame them. But I do miss having friends who care about me.” Shaking her head, Flora turned back to him. “No, they didn’t care about me. They feared me. They knew that if they crossed me, I’d make them regret it. Until they finally got sick of me pushing everyone around.”

Genuine regret sounded in her voice. Not the kind that said she was sorry she’d been caught, but that she wished she’d behaved differently. Wanted to be different now.

“Why did you do it?” George asked. He had no right to dig into Flora’s personal affairs, but something about the sadness surrounding her drew him, made him want to help her see that things were not so hopeless.

“Why does anyone do bad things? I thought it was the right thing to do at the time.” Flora sighed. “I hated it when my father moved us from Denver to Leadville. He was never content to be a silent partner in his various mining interests. If he invested his money, he wanted to know it was being used wisely. Leadville is much less civilized. So much lawlessness, and it seemed to me that people, even those from good families, paid far less attention to the rules than they ought. I thought that if I exposed everything I thought was sin, then the people would be punished, and they would finally start living properly. I thought it was my duty to make things right.”

The rise and fall of Flora’s chest as she looked at the ground told him she’d thought a lot about this topic. “To be perfectly honest, I thought I was better than all of them. That my virtues were far superior, and it was my duty to make them rise up or be shunned forever.”

Green eyes shone with tears as she looked at him. “But when I finally started listening in church, instead of judging everyone who walked through the door, I realized that I had been the one in the wrong. My way was not Jesus’s way, and I had been foolish in putting myself in the place of God.”

“Those sound like the words of a woman who’s gained an incredible amount of wisdom,” George said, smiling at her. “I’m sorry the others don’t see it, but perhaps they have their own faults they must grow past first.”

Some of the sadness in her eyes disappeared as Flora smiled. “Now you sound like Pastor Lassiter. He says we’re all sinners, and we all have our own things we need to work out with God. But enough about me and my problems.”

She gestured at Pierre, who’d gone back to digging with the stick, presumably to find more worms. “How do we help him?”

George watched the little boy who had managed to capture his heart in such a short period of time. Even without sharing the same language, he felt a connection to the child. And somehow, with Flora sharing that same connection with Pierre, it brought him together with Flora in a way he hadn’t expected. They wanted the same thing for a little boy they barely knew, yet cared for deeply.

If only George had a better answer for her.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I tried talking to the men at work to see if they knew anyone, but there wasn’t much time for idle chatter. Pastor Lassiter and I haven’t had any success with the people we’ve spoken to. I suppose we just keep looking and asking.”

Pierre returned, carrying several more worms, speaking animatedly in French. George wished he could communicate better with the little boy, especially since Pierre gravitated toward him and seemed to want to connect with him. But how did he connect with a child he couldn’t converse with?

The little boy said something that made Flora laugh. Her laughter warmed his heart, and though she’d spoken disdainfully about her many accomplishments, George was grateful someone with her particular skills could help Pierre.

George looked around for the pastor, wondering where he’d gotten off to, since he’d thought Pastor Lassiter had been heading in his direction. Finally, he spotted him, standing in a group of women, shaking his head at whatever they were saying. From the way the women kept glancing in their direction, it seemed like they somehow disapproved of what George and Flora were doing with Pierre. But how could anyone be upset that they were helping a poor child who’d lost his father?

“They’re angry because I got to sleep in the cabin with Pierre instead of a tent,” Flora said softly, nodding in the direction of his gaze. “They think I’m just being lazy, not wanting to participate in the work, but they keep shooing Pierre away.”

Her brow was knotted in frustration, marring her pretty features.

“Why would they do that? What about the other children? Can’t he play with them?”

Flora’s frown deepened. “Pierre can’t speak the language. They teased him and wouldn’t play with him. He came running to me, crying. Every time I intervened, the other ladies got mad at me for stopping work, until finally they asked me to leave. But I couldn’t just let them torment poor Pierre like that.”

A dark look crossed her face. George wondered if she was thinking about how she bullied all the other kids when she was younger. But he couldn’t talk to her about it, couldn’t say that he’d been just as cruel to her as she’d been to him. Even though he’d spent a lot of years hating her for sticking him with the moniker of Pudgy, he’d come to a place of acceptance. He’d outgrown the silly nickname, and as much as he used to say that he’d get revenge on his childhood nemesis, he found he had nothing but compassion for the delightful young woman in front of him.

“I’m glad you can be there for him,” George said instead.

Flora shrugged. “I know what it’s like.”

He hoped it didn’t look like he was staring. Sure, she said now that people didn’t like her, but he couldn’t imagine her experiencing the levels of torment he had. After all, he had been pudgy. More than that, actually. The boys had been teasing him, calling him a corpulent whale, and Flora had looked at them with those big green eyes and said, “No he’s not. He’s just pudgy.” From then on, everyone had called him Pudgy, a far sight better than if the corpulent whale idea had stuck.

In some ways, she had done him a favor.

Could he help her now?

“Were you tormented as a child?”

Flora nodded slowly, her gaze on the others still obviously talking about her. “People think I’m just a mean person. But everything I’ve ever done has been about self-preservation. I suppose I thought that if the negativity was directed at everyone else, no one would have time to turn the cruelty in my direction. I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

Flora looked over at Pierre and smiled at him. The little boy came running back toward her. “Flora!” He chattered at her, smiling.

George didn’t have to understand the words to understand the genuine affection between the two. If only he had paid better attention in the few French lessons he’d had. Then he could join in their merriment.

“Teach me,” George said. “You’re good with him. It’s not fair you get to have all the fun.”

“Basically, Pierre was telling me that his father promised him they’d go fishing when he returned from work. He wanted to ask you if you’d take him fishing, but then he thought it might not be fair to go without his father.” Flora gave him another pretty smile.

“I told him that perhaps when we find his father, we could all go fishing together.”

“Somehow I don’t think you fish.” George winked at her, grinning.

Flora’s cheeks flushed pink. “No, but I would try for Pierre’s sake. I can’t seem to refuse him anything.”

Once more, George found himself captivated by Flora’s genuine kindness and gentility.

Her confession about how she’d been treated—and how she’d reacted—only made him want to reach out to her more. To tell her the truth about his past and that he could see how she’d managed to overcome her previous failings to become the kind of woman any person would be honored to know. But his reasons for remaining quiet were so much greater than a woman’s hurt feelings over the petty actions of a few others. As soon as he figured out who was behind the sabotage at the mine, George could tell her everything. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long.

* * *

Flora tried to focus more on Pierre’s chattering than on the women complaining about her to Pastor Lassiter. Would their words finally convince him that he’d been mistaken in giving Flora a chance?

She stole a glance at George, who’d been watching her. What must he think of her, confessing all of her misdeeds like that? Flora wasn’t herself around him. For some reason, she seemed to blurt out the most ridiculous things. Who was he to her that she could speak so freely?

But who else did she have?

Sarah Crowley’s shrill laugh reached her ears. Flora knew that laugh. The satisfied sound of achieving victory over one’s rival. Once, she and Sarah had been the best of friends. They’d worked together to bring down the girls they thought threatened their carefully organized social structure. Only, in the end, the only person who’d been brought down was Flora. Now Sarah led the group that had once turned to Flora for guidance.

Pastor Lassiter approached, the women trailing him. They giggled and whispered behind their fans.

Flora stood, smiling at him. “I hope you’re here to share good news about Pierre’s father.”

She’d spent many years perfecting the art of deflection, keeping any negative attention off herself. While it seemed almost wrong to do so now, Flora lacked the strength to face what was bound to be another litany of criticisms.

Besides, whatever they considered her bad behavior, wasn’t it in the service of another? Not that she’d done anything wrong, of course, but by the way Sarah smirked, they all thought they were really going to get her.

Pastor Lassiter shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Some folks said that they thought they might have seen a Frenchman living in a tent on the other side of the camp, but I couldn’t find any sign of him. I was hoping you and George would come with me to do some asking around. Maybe if Pierre was with us, someone would recognize him.”

“Of course,” George said. “Since I was the one to find Pierre, I feel responsible for reuniting him with his father. Besides—” George ruffled the boy’s hair “—I’ve become attached to the little guy.”

Flora couldn’t help but smile. She, too, had become attached to Pierre. Truth be told, she was becoming attached to George, as well. He was the only person besides Pastor Lassiter and Rose who didn’t judge her, who listened to what she had to say as though he cared about her answers. But she couldn’t imagine her family condoning her involvement with a man so outside their social class.

Not that she was interested, of course. While she felt comfortable in his presence, he often made her stomach feel...funny. It was a most unusual sensation. Like the time her father had left her alone in the carriage for just a moment, and the horses had taken off on her. Absolutely terrifying. And yet, when the dust settled, she’d been secretly exhilarated. With George, there wasn’t so much terror, and not nearly the level of exhilaration, and yet something in the area that felt like there might be. But this was a man, not a pair of spirited horses.

Though she supposed it could prove to be just as dangerous.

But she couldn’t keep herself from smiling as she said, “You know I would be happy to accompany you. I love Pierre dearly, but he deserves to be reunited with his father.”

The pastor smiled at her. “I’m so glad. I appreciate the time and care you’ve taken with him. As I was telling the others, you are uniquely qualified to watch over Pierre.”

“Yes, but she’s doing a terrible job of it,” Sarah said, stepping forward as she glared down her aristocratic nose at Flora. “That child stole my favorite shawl, and when I yelled at him, he threw it in the mud and ran away.”

Flora hadn’t witnessed the incident, but she had seen Sarah screeching at Pierre. She’d stopped her supper preparations and run after the little boy.

“Pierre was terrified,” Flora said calmly. “As I’ve told you before, he doesn’t speak English, and therefore couldn’t understand what you were saying. Imagine how you would feel if a stranger yelled at you in another language.”

Pierre came closer to Flora, wrapping his arms around her leg and hiding in her skirts.

“Well I’m not a thief, and I’m quite civilized, so strangers have no reason to yell at me.”

“He’s four years old,” Flora said firmly. “There are many things he hasn’t learned yet.”

She rubbed his back, then pulled him off her skirts so she could kneel in front of him. Very gently, she asked him in French what had happened.

Tears started flowing down his face before the words came out. Finally, Flora understood.

“He didn’t mean any harm.” Flora held Pierre close as she spoke to Sarah. “According to Pierre, you’d tossed aside your shawl and it fell off the bench and into the dirt. Pierre thought he was being helpful and went to pick it up. He said it smelled exactly like his mother before she passed away, and it made him miss her. He misses her dreadfully, and now with his father having disappeared, he was feeling lonely. So he wrapped himself in your shawl and used it to feel close to her. When you saw him and started yelling at him, it scared him. He didn’t mean to drop it in the mud. But he was terrified, and you didn’t even bother to find out what had happened. Pierre meant no harm.”

Despite her explanation, Flora could still see the steam coming out of Sarah’s ears.

“My shawl is ruined.”

“I’ll gladly replace it,” Flora said.

Sarah only glared at her. “It’s irreplaceable. I added the lace myself.” Then she grunted. “Smells like his mother. That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. My shawl would never smell like a...peasant.” Spittle flew out of her mouth in a most unladylike manner. Derision curled her lip, and Flora hated that she’d once been a party to such behavior.

“I believe you wear French perfume, do you not? His mother was French. It’s not such a stretch to imagine that you might share the same taste in fragrance.”

Before Sarah could issue another retort—and from the expression on her face, it looked like she was working up a good one—Pastor Lassiter stepped forward.

“Ah, yes. I knew there had to be a reasonable explanation.” He smiled at Flora, then down at little Pierre. “But that does lead me to something I’d like to speak to you all about. Part of why I invited you all to come up with me is that I’ve noticed a great deal of disharmony amongst you young ladies, and my hope is that our time in the camp brings you closer together and gives you a deeper sense of community.”

He turned to look at Sarah and the other women. “While what happened to your shawl was unfortunate, Pierre was trying to help, but got carried away. But as you see, Flora is accepting responsibility for the situation and has offered to make it right.”

Sarah opened her mouth to argue, but the pastor held up his hand. “I won’t tolerate any more squabbles. We need to think more in terms of how we can love and serve one another, instead of being loved and served. Sarah, now that you know Pierre took your shawl because it reminded him of his mother, perhaps you could find another shawl or blanket to offer him? Spray it with some of your perfume so he has that comfort. Imagine what it must feel like to have lost a mother and now have your father missing.”

The words sounded strange to Flora. Usually the lectures were always about how Flora had been wrong and what she needed to do to rectify the situation. Part of her waited for the chastisement to be turned toward her. And yet, it didn’t come. Pastor Lassiter smiled broadly at her.

“I know you are all frustrated and angry because you think it is unfair that Flora gets to sleep in the cabin instead of in a tent. And that I’ve reduced her duties so that she can care for Pierre. Ordinarily, I’d ask for you all to take turns helping with him, but since Flora is the only one who speaks his language, I want him to have consistency of care. Our hope, and our prayer, is that we would find Pierre’s father quickly.”

As Pastor Lassiter explained his plans for finding Pierre’s father, Flora felt George move to stand behind her, close enough that she could feel the comfort of his presence emanating in her direction. He wanted to be a friend to her, to stand beside her. But he seemed to understand that though they shared a bond because of Pierre, he couldn’t get too close. He couldn’t be everything Flora could imagine him being.

She shook her head quickly, trying to banish those images from her head. They came too easily, but it was impossible to think that there would ever be anything more than a casual acquaintance between the two of them. Even if her parents were to accept such a match, as selfish as it sounded, Flora wasn’t willing to trade her life in their well-appointed home for rusticating in a cabin in the middle of some smelly mining camp. Stealing a glance at him, she noticed a smile at the corners of his lips. Would he still smile if he knew what she was thinking? That despite their shared love of a little boy, and their easy way of talking, there was no hope for anything else between them?

Flora sighed. Whatever he thought, it was none of her business. The only thing that mattered right then was helping the little boy clinging to her skirts. And maybe, if the other women could see that she truly was trying to be the woman God created her to be, maybe everything in her life would finally be back to normal. She’d have friends, eligible bachelors would start calling on her again, and then she could get married and start a family of her own. A perfect plan.

Only the weight of George’s gaze on her didn’t make it feel so perfect at all.

Chapter Four

A week later, they hadn’t come any closer to finding Pierre’s father, Henri. It was as though the man had never existed. Except there was a little boy missing him who said otherwise. Today, George found himself walking through the mining area itself, hoping that someone would recognize the little boy happily swinging between him and Flora.

The mine was no place for a child, but George had no other ideas. They’d walked Pierre through the camp a number of times, hoping the little boy would recognize someone, or at least some of the scenery. The only thing Pierre seemed interested in was going fishing, but George felt guilty at the thought. How could he replace the little boy’s father in what had clearly been an important bonding time between them?

Flora and Pierre were singing “Frère Jacques,” and George couldn’t help but enjoy Flora’s melodic voice. Though Flora had spoken disdainfully of her feminine accomplishments earlier, George was impressed with how readily she sang with the little boy, a pastime he seemed to enjoy greatly.

Pierre stopped singing and looked up at him expectantly. “Chante!”

“He wants me to sing with you, doesn’t he?” George looked over at Flora, who smiled broadly.

“It would appear so.” She gave the little boy an affectionate look, and once again George was struck by how readily she opened her heart to a child who needed it. It seemed like the other ladies in the camp hadn’t warmed to Flora, and her only friends seemed to be the pastor and Rose. A shame, because from what George could see, Flora had so much to give.

Pierre tugged at his hand. “J’enseigne!”

George looked at Flora for translation.

“He said he will teach you.” Her words came out with a slight giggle, like she found the prospect delightful.

Delightful, indeed. How could he refuse two such shining faces?

Fortunately, almost every child probably knew the familiar folk song, or at least that’s what George thought. “I don’t sing as well as you, but I think I can manage.”

He began to sing the first few bars, then Flora and Pierre joined in.

Maybe it was wrong of him to think so, but as they strolled through the crowded area of the mine, holding hands with Pierre, who was exuberantly swinging his arms, probably in the hope that they’d pick him up and swing him between them again, this felt like everything he’d always hoped for in a family of his own.

As they rounded the corner toward the mine office, Flora stopped suddenly, cutting off midsong.

“What’s wrong?” George asked.

Flora gave him a shaky smile. “Nothing. I just thought I’d seen my father going into that building, that’s all. Silly, because he wouldn’t be here. Our mines are on the other side of the valley.”

Then her face fell as she sighed. “Unless he’s checking up on me. I’d hoped I’d earned his trust by now, but he was really disappointed in me when he realized just how badly I’d hurt others with my words.”

Flora glanced at him with a look of such remorse, George once again wished he could come clean with her about their past, and how he forgave her for the way she’d treated him when they were children.

“Once everyone got tired of my gossip, it strained my relationship with a lot of people, including friends of my parents. My father had to do a lot of work to repair some of his business interests.”

The mournful look George had grown to hate seeing on her face reappeared. “I honestly thought I was being helpful, telling people all those things, and that somehow, it raised my own status of being good. How wrong I was. I’d give anything to take my words and actions back.”

George smiled at her, wishing he could take her hand and give it a squeeze to let her know that it was all right. “We all make mistakes,” he said. “When I was a child, there was one little girl my friends and I used to tease for having a lot of freckles. We hurt her feelings so badly that her mother came to see my mother, and I got in a lot of trouble for it. Even though I could justify it by saying that she deserved it for teasing me, I should have realized that, as deeply as her words hurt me, mine probably hurt her as well.”

It was the closest to admitting their shared past as George could safely get. But he had to make Flora understand that this was not an unforgiveable sin and that they all made mistakes.

“Children can be cruel,” Flora admitted. “I was also teased for my freckles. Mother made me a special lotion I wore every night, and I take care to stay out of the sun. It was awful being made fun of, and I, too, should have remembered that when I tormented others. I suppose I thought that if people were making fun of someone else, no one would dare laugh at me.”

She shook her head. “It’s good that you learned your lesson early. It took me far too long, and I don’t know how to undo the damage. Even when you apologize, it doesn’t erase the hurt others feel.”

“No, it doesn’t. However, just as we are forgiven, we are called to forgive others, as well. You may have hurt people, but the Bible tells them to be forgiving. It’s my favorite part of the Lord’s Prayer.”

Flora smiled softly. “‘Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us.’ I find great comfort in that prayer. I have so much that needs to be forgiven, and therefore I’ve worked very hard to forgive others. I didn’t know what I was doing, so how could they?”

She’d learned. That’s what he saw in her words. Did the people who still shunned her take the time to listen? To hear how she’d allowed God’s word to transform her life? Though George felt he had a good relationship with the Lord, sometimes being around Flora made him want to grow even closer to Him.

“You make an excellent point,” he told her. “I just hope one day you learn to forgive yourself.”

Flora groaned. “Now you sound just like Rose and the pastor.”

“They’re smart people.” He grinned at her.

“They are, indeed.” Flora glanced again at the mining office. “Would you mind terribly if we crossed over and went to a different area? If I did see my father, I’m not particularly interested in speaking with him. I know he cares about me, and I adore him. But I hate feeling so much like a disappointment when I’m around him.”

One more thing George hated seeing in this delightful young woman. Surely her sense of her father’s disappointment in her was part of her inability to forgive herself for her past mistakes. But he wouldn’t argue this point with her. Though he was reasonably sure Mr. Montgomery wouldn’t recognize him, it was better not to take chances.

Still, it seemed interesting and, if George were to speculate, a bit funny that Flora’s father would show up at the mine when it was having so many problems. Could George’s father’s rants about not trusting the Montgomerys have been a foreshadowing of their current troubles?

They turned the corner in the opposite direction and began singing their song again. George noticed that some of the men would briefly stop what they were doing and smile, then go back to work. But no one approached them or even commented on how it was good to hear their native language.

The good thing about being here, in the guise of a miner, was that people talked more freely around him than if he were to have been here as a gentleman. The miners poked fun at the men in suits who frequented the office, and when those men tried talking to the miners, they all clammed up. Since George was a newcomer, and learning the ropes, some of the men had taken him under their wings, telling him details about the mine he’d have never learned otherwise.

The men had told him what they knew of the troubles at the mine, the cave-ins, the practices that seemed shady to them. All of which were helpful to George, in that he now knew that things were far worse than he’d imagined when he’d first learned of the situation here. And, all right, he’d own that Lance Dougherty, the mine manager, likely did not live on whiskey alone, but George found it troubling that the man often smelled of drink.

George intended to use everything he learned to make things better at the mine and prevent future accidents from occurring. George had come because of one cave-in that had nearly cost them several workers’ lives. But he’d learned that just before he’d arrived there was another odd explosion, one that none of the miners understood, since no one was supposed to be working in the area. Mr. Dougherty had supposedly investigated it and said that it was an old piece of dynamite that had gone off by itself, and no one was in the area, but George couldn’t help wondering if it was true.

The men all said Dougherty was a liar, and though George hadn’t let it be known yet, he’d noticed that when Dougherty hired him, he’d verbally told George one rate of pay but written a larger number in his ledger. George had listened to the men talk, grumbling about the lower wages at Pudgy Boy and saying that as soon as they found better jobs at other mines that paid more, they were leaving. George’s father had always prided himself on treating his workers fairly, so it seemed odd that now the mine had the reputation of having the lowest-paying jobs in Leadville.

Unless Dougherty’s mistake in writing down George’s pay wasn’t a mistake, and it was part of a larger scheme to embezzle money from the mine.

“Howdy, George!” Peanut McGee, one of the men who worked with him on the mining crew, tipped his hat at him, so George led his merry band over to greet his friend.

“Hello there.” George returned the greeting, then indicated Flora and Pierre. “May I present Miss Flora Montgomery? And this is Pierre, the little boy I was telling you about. Flora, this is one of the men I work with...” George paused for a moment, realizing he didn’t know Peanut’s real name. “Uh, Peanut McGee.”

Peanut tipped his hat at Flora. “Right pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

“It’s my pleasure, Mr. McGee.”

She treated him with all the courtesy she would have offered in the finest parlors in the state. Peanut noted it, too, and he blushed.

“None of that, ma’am. It’s just Peanut. Can I just say what an honor it is to know such a fine lady willing to take on a child like this? I do feel for the lad, and I’ve been asking everyone I know if they have any idea where his father might be.”

It was Flora’s turn to blush, and George liked the way the pink in her cheeks lit up her eyes.

“Anyone would be fortunate to have the opportunity to spend time with such a darling boy.” Flora ruffled Pierre’s hair and smiled, then bent down to whisper something in his ear.

“Please to meet you,” Pierre said haltingly.

George grinned. “Already teaching him his manners, I see.”

“A little.” Flora smiled. “Just as I am helping you with a few words to communicate with Pierre, I’m also giving him the skills to talk to others. When we find his father, I’m sure he’ll be pleased at how much Pierre has learned.”

Peanut shifted, looking uncomfortable. “Ma’am, I mean no disrespect, but none of us have heard of anyone who’s lost a boy. And we ain’t heard no one using them fancy words like what you said to the child. I suppose it might be one of them fellows who keep to themselves, but why wouldn’t he also be looking?”

George hated to admit that Peanut was onto something. Why couldn’t they find any trace of Pierre’s father?

The disappointment on Flora’s face was almost too much to bear.

“I’d like to find a way to get into the office and look at Dougherty’s ledger. See if there’s a record of anyone named Henri working in the mine.”

Peanut’s eyes widened. “You can read?”

“Of course I can,” George said. As the words came out of his mouth, he realized that his confusion about Dougherty’s mistake was probably not a mistake at all, and that he’d been on to something in suspecting embezzlement.

Most of these men were illiterate. The ones who could read probably noticed when Dougherty wrote down the wrong number, and were paid accordingly. But men like Peanut...

George shook his head. These men were probably being taken advantage of in other ways, as well, and it made him sick. His father used to say that business ownership carried with it a great deal of responsibility, and first and foremost, that responsibility was to take care of one’s workers because without them they would have nothing.

Peanut shook his head slowly. “You are one odd gent. We been thinking a lot about where you come from, why you have fancy manners, and now, come to find, you can even read. What are you doing here?”

George had expected this question. And hated that he had to mislead another person. Peanut was a good man, a hard worker, and it seemed unfair to deceive him. But George still didn’t have the answers he needed.

“Like everyone else here. Trying to build a better life for myself. My family hit on some hard times, and I’m doing what I can to make things better.”

All true. But at Peanut’s sympathetic nod, George couldn’t help but feel like a fraud.

“I s’pose we’ve all been there. You know Reg? He was some fancy lord back in England until his father gambled it all away. He don’t talk about it much, but I know he’d give just about anything to strike it rich and restore his family’s good name.”

George nodded. He’d heard Reg’s story before, and at times, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d end up the same way.

Then Peanut looked down at the little boy, smiling as he pulled a piece of candy out of his pocket. “I been saving this for a special occasion, and I think this might be it. A boy, missing his daddy, well, that sounds to me like good use of my treat.”

He held it out to Pierre, who looked up at Flora. As she translated Peanut’s words, Pierre’s eyes lit up.

“Merci, monsieur,” he said, smiling. Then Flora bent down and whispered in his ear again.

Pierre nodded, then looked at Peanut. “Thank you, sir.”

“Sir...” Peanut waved his hand. “You get on now. Teaching that boy to act like a gent. Miss Montgomery, ’cause of you, this boy just might have a chance at a better life, instead of wasting away in one of these mines.”

Flora blushed again, and as George considered the man’s words, he realized that they were likely true. Once Pierre got to be a little older, he’d probably be helping in the mine, making pennies a day. At least that seemed to be the way for many of the boys he saw here. That didn’t seem to be much of a life for a child. Perhaps, once George got to the bottom of the bad dealings here, he could also find a way to help his miners better themselves.

Working with Pastor Lassiter had opened George’s eyes to a lot of things that were wrong at the mine. Not just in terms of the odd explosions and dwindling money, but even the fact that many of these men couldn’t read well enough to know whether or not they’d been cheated. Suddenly, what had seemed like a simple issue had grown more complicated.

Peanut turned his attention back on George. “I can’t imagine the boy’s father not coming forward, not with everyone here knowing you’ve been looking for him. But I’m friends with the night watchman, Stumpy, and I think he can get you into the office. I’m sure that no-account Dougherty hasn’t been any help.”

George shook his head. “No, he told me that personnel issues were confidential, and he couldn’t give me any information.”

Peanut made a disgusting noise. “You’d think a man would do more to help a boy.”

One of the reasons George didn’t like the mine manager. He could understand the desire to keep certain personnel records private, but Dougherty had literally shut the door in George’s face and told him he couldn’t give him any information. Had George been in charge, he would have done whatever he could to help. Not just because this was the closest mine to where Pierre had been found, and therefore the most likely place where his father worked, but because it was the right thing to do. All of the other neighboring mines, including ones several miles from here and completely out of the way, had joined in the effort to find Pierre’s father.

So what, really, was going on?

George smiled at his friend. “Well, I appreciate you being able to get me into the office so I can take a look. I just don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”

But if someone did get in trouble, George would find a way to secretly make it right. This was still his mine, after all, and while it seemed like the most expedient thing to do would be to let Dougherty go, George couldn’t rightly say that would fix the problem. He didn’t have enough information.

Right now, with no real evidence, he wasn’t acting on anything. Still, it would be nice to have some answers. Thankfully, Peanut was willing to have his friend help him get them.

* * *

Flora was touched by George’s discussion with Peanut. Clearly the men cared about what happened to a little boy who’d lost his father. George could have easily left Pierre with her and gone about his business, but when he wasn’t working in the mine, he was spending time with them and doing what he could to help Pierre. And, based on this conversation, George spent a good amount of time while he was working trying to find answers about Pierre’s father, too.

As they walked back to the camp, the men discussed their plan to get into the office later that night. It amazed Flora how naturally Pierre grabbed both Flora’s and George’s hands and walked between the two of them. While the men talked, Flora and Pierre sang a few of the songs they both knew. Flora had forgotten how much a simple tune meant to her, and how song lifted people’s spirits. She’d sung in many of the finest parlors in Leadville, even sometimes in Denver when they’d go to visit her aunt, but here, in the midst of God’s creation, the joy of music made her heart feel even lighter.

As they sang the final verse of “Au clair de la lune,” Pierre looked up at her with longing. The poor little boy missed his family dreadfully, and though Flora tried her best to make him comfortable, sometimes it seemed like her heart would break for him. How a man could simply abandon a child like Pierre, she didn’t know. But based on what Peanut said, and the responses of others, Flora could only think that something dreadful must have happened to Pierre’s father.

She smiled at the boy. Sometimes she wondered if he thought the same. But, of course, she would not discuss her fears with him. Having learned her lesson by openly speculating about everything with everyone, she now worked very hard to keep her opinions to herself. They didn’t know what had happened to Pierre’s father, and though Flora could not imagine him willingly leaving his son, she wouldn’t invite trouble to where it didn’t exist.

As they reentered the camp, Pierre let go of George’s hand, moving closer to the edge of Flora’s skirts. She looked in the direction of the cabin the ministry used and understood why. Sarah Crowley was headed their way, and the expression on her face said that she had a bee in her bonnet.

“Hello, Sarah.” Flora greeted her warmly, as though she hadn’t done anything wrong. Which was true—as far as Flora knew, she hadn’t.

“I wondered when you’d get back from your lollygagging. You’re supposed to help get firewood tonight.”

“I’m sorry,” Flora said calmly. “I thought I was on the schedule for tomorrow. Pastor Lassiter knew we were taking Pierre through the mine area to see if Pierre recognized anyone, or anyone recognized him.”

She kept her tone modulated, pleasant, trying not to match Sarah’s irritation.

“Maureen got sick. Had you been here, you’d know that. It’s about time you pulled your weight.”

Rose came around the corner and noticed them speaking. Flora hated that Rose always had to step in and take up for her, especially since it only seemed to make people like Sarah angrier.

“I apologize.” Flora gave her a sympathetic look. “Hopefully we’ll find Pierre’s father soon.”

“Was your expedition successful?” Rose asked as she joined them.

“I’m afraid not,” Flora said, looking down at Pierre. “But George did run into a gentleman named Peanut who is going to help him look into some things.”

“George? Peanut?” Sarah gave her a cold look. “It seems you’re becoming all too familiar with these people.”

“Who we’re here to serve,” Rose reminded her. “I’m glad to see you’re making friends here, Flora.”

Then Rose turned to the gentlemen and smiled. “It’s a pleasure to have you here. Peanut, is it? I’m Rose Jones.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am. I’m honored to be among the likes of you. Some church people brought us some warm blankets over the winter, and I am mighty grateful for the kindness you’ve all done us.”

Rose smiled at him. “I hope you’ll join us for dinner tonight. I know Pastor Lassiter would love to meet you.”

The bashful look Peanut gave Rose warmed Flora’s heart. Until recently, Flora would have been like Sarah, counting men like George and Peanut “those people” and not wanting to associate with them. She would have served them dinner and counted it her Christian duty, and that was that. But there was more to these men than just the label society put on them.

How could Sarah see that, though, when she’d never taken the time to get to know them?

Flora turned to Sarah and smiled. “I know I need to get to collecting the wood, but before I go, I’d like to invite you to sit with us tonight. It occurred to me that perhaps the reason you are so frustrated with me and the situation is that you don’t know George and Pierre. I’m sure you’ll find them delightful company, and I would so love to catch up with you. It’s been forever since we’ve talked, and I’ve been rude in not asking you about all of your news.”

Sarah looked at her as though she’d rather share her dinner with a dead rat, but Rose smiled at her encouragingly.

“What a wonderful idea. Uncle Frank was just telling me that he wished the young ladies in our group would make a greater effort to get to know one another and build better relationships. You two used to be best friends. Surely you can put whatever quarrel occurred between you aside to share a meal.”

There had been no quarrel. That was the sad part. When Flora’s torment of Emma Jane Jackson reached its peak, and the rest of society turned on Flora, Sarah simply stopped receiving her. They hadn’t had so much as a conversation until coming to this camp, and even now it was all about what Flora was doing wrong.

Still, Flora remembered Rose’s earlier words about how she should offer an olive branch to everyone she’d wronged. Flora had tried with Sarah, but Sarah had never given her an audience. Perhaps this was the opening she needed.

“I believe it’s my turn to serve the meal,” Sarah said coldly.

“Oh!” Rose smiled. “I’d be pleased to do so in your place. Take the night off. Spend some time visiting with Flora.”

Sarah murmured an acceptance, but her eyes flashed fire. For a moment, Flora regretted asking her, but then she remembered that she was called to be a peacemaker, and she was doing her very best.

“Now that we have that settled,” Flora said, trying to sound pleasant, “I have some wood to gather.”

She bent and told Pierre that they were going to collect some wood, and that he needed to remain close to her.

As Flora turned to go toward the area where they collected wood, George said, “Shall we come help?”

Sarah smirked, like she thought poorly of the idea but knew Flora would accept.

“Yes,” Peanut said. “I’d like to contribute somehow. I can carry firewood.”

Rose smiled broadly. “Very nice. I love the spirit of everyone coming together. I think I’ll join you, as well. Sarah, would you like to come?”

Would it be awful of Flora to say that she’d rather not have Sarah? Yes, she’d done the hard task of inviting Sarah to sit with them during dinner, and she’d be kind and polite to the other woman. But it seemed like more punishment to be continually working with Sarah.

“I need to check on Maureen,” Sarah said, a smile on her face but ice in her eyes. “As well as let the others know that I found Flora and she’ll be attending to her duties tonight.”

“All right then,” Rose said. “We’ll see you at dinner.”

From the murderous look on Sarah’s face, she wasn’t too happy at the prospect. Knowing Sarah, she’d find a way out of the task, if at all possible.

But at least Flora had tried.

Rose reached forward and squeezed Flora’s hand. “You did well. I know it was hard for you to make the overture, but it was the right thing to do.”

George nodded. “I was impressed. The friendship is her loss, not yours.”

She shouldn’t have been so pleased at George’s compliment. But the way he looked at her made her want to stand a little taller. He was the most honorable person she knew, and it felt good to have his support.

If only they didn’t come from two different worlds.

Chapter Five

Once they’d finished gathering the wood, George left the ladies at the cabin so he and Peanut could talk to Stumpy about getting into the office. As they rounded the corner to the main area of the mine, George saw John Montgomery mounting a horse. Hopefully to go back home. He’d been relieved when Flora hadn’t wanted to talk to her father, and knowing that one fewer person was around to recognize him was a good thing.

“That there’s John Montgomery,” Peanut said, pointing. “Your lady friend’s father. I hear talk that he’s trying to buy the mine. Would be nice having a gent like him running things instead of those Bellinghams. Just leeching the money from the place, not bothering to grace us with their presence or see how things are being run. Montgomery mines are a nice place to work, that’s a fact. I’ve tried to get hired on, but my back’s not as strong as those young bucks.”

Peanut grinned. “But if Montgomery buys this place, well, now, I’d be working for him, wouldn’t I?”

As if he sensed the men talking about him, Montgomery turned and gazed in their direction, shading his eyes from the glare of the fading sun.

“Flora said she thought she’d seen him earlier, but she wasn’t keen on running into him.”

Peanut shrugged. “I can’t see him being all too happy about her spending time with the likes of us. The man’s got more money than a body’s got a right to, and that daughter of his is his biggest treasure. He’d be a fool to let anyone without deep pockets himself near her. She’s going to marry well, that one.”

A fact that made George far more miserable than he would have expected. He’d already made up his mind that he couldn’t marry a socialite like Flora. As much as he’d like to, he knew he couldn’t give her what she wanted out of life. He’d seen enough of the mine’s condition to know that it would take a great deal of capital to improve things, and based on the financial documents his brother-in-law had shown him, the Bellinghams didn’t have it.

The best they could hope for was selling to a man like Montgomery, which would at least replenish the Bellingham coffers, but it wouldn’t give Flora the life she wanted. Besides, if Montgomery was involved in the mine’s sabotage, he couldn’t see the man willingly giving his daughter in marriage to the man whose family he’d just destroyed.

They hurried around the building, out of Montgomery’s field of view.

Once they were far enough away, George asked, “Do you think Montgomery would be causing the problems here at the mine, trying to make the mine worth less to get a better price when he buys it?”

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