Lessie: Bride of Utah (American Mail-Order Bride 45) (20 page)

Ouch
. That stung. Worse, somehow, than if he’d raised his voice or refused to listen at all.

He was right… to a point. She didn’t know much about business, at least not from the owner’s perspective. “I know a great deal about what it’s like to be an undervalued employee. I know what it’s like to work sixteen, seventeen, eighteen hour days, to never feel sunlight on my face because I’m working inside.”

The haunting, familiar expressions on the workmen’s faces reappeared in her mind’s eye. “I know what it’s like to take home a pittance in wages, to suffer the heat of an oven during the summer and freeze in the winter.
I know hunger.
”

Anger fueled her words and she fairly shook with passion. “I know thirst. I’ve been ill and had no money to pay a doctor. I’ve been responsible for my sister since we were eleven. Worse— she was ill, at death’s door, and I had no money to pay a doctor.”

Richard slid his chair back from the table, both hands braced on the edge of the heavy, expensive piece. His attention riveted on his hands.

Wouldn’t he look at her?

Had her husband
dismissed
her?

He’d clamped his hands so tightly the beds of his fingernails blanched white. Those firm, strong, gentle hands had caressed her, the touch of a husband in love.

Yet he’d forgotten all that.

They’d consummated their marriage. No judge would grant an annulment, not even in Utah Territory. She was stuck with Richard Cannon, like it or not.

And right now, she
didn’t
like it.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. “You’re right. You sent for a bride who understood your workers, who could get close to them, find out what’s really happening.”

Still no response. His jaw clenched, flexed, as if he fought to keep whatever he wanted to say locked inside.

Well, she didn’t have an issue speaking her mind. “I found a solution. A good one. It might cost you money, a
lot
of money, but in the long run, you’ll have content, happy workers who feel they’re a contributing part of something. You’ll earn their loyalty.”

His lips, so soft and pliant, had thinned with obvious displeasure.

She’d seen enough. She’d said enough. He’d shut her down, without much of an explanation.

Angry enough to start a screaming fight— one he obviously wouldn’t participate in— she controlled the urge and turned with ladylike composure and walked to the stairs.

A bath sounded like a lovely way to enjoy hours of solitude. This time, though, she’d lock the door.

Chapter Seventeen

“Lessie, wait.” Richard caught up to her on the stairs. He closed both hands around her tiny waist, slowly turned her to face him.

Much to his surprise, she allowed it. Both his touch and his intention to look her in the eye.

With the two stairs separating them, they came close to seeing one another eye-to-eye.

He hadn’t reacted well to her suggestions, not well at all. He’d heard tell of husbands who’d had to beg forgiveness of their wives once a day,
every
day, just to keep peace in the home, but he figured he begged forgiveness for a different reason altogether. “You’re right.”

She folded her arms. That was a disappointment. He’d thought she’d throw her arms about his neck, kiss him, let him carry her upstairs. Maybe he hadn’t apologized correctly.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. Please forgive me for my poor response to your suggestions.”

“You won’t so much as consider my plans, won’t implement them, will you?”

“It’ll take time. You saw the road in and out of camp. Do you know how long it takes to build a school? How much it costs to build cottages?”

She held her ground. And he lost his heart to her a little more, if that were possible.

He squeezed her waist, trailed his thumbs along her lowest rib. She still had so very little softness to her. She
did
know hunger, deprivation, want.

This woman he’d married, come to respect and admire and love…
this
woman understood the crux of the problem. “I’ve been patching holes in the roof, haven’t I?”

In context of Lessie’s argument, his business methods seemed shoddy at best. Short-sighted. Why hadn’t Adam and he seen the problems in their operations?

Why had it taken Lessie to show them?

To hear her list things that needed to change, knowing he’d failed his workers… the realization emasculated him. “Instead of cutting my losses, tearing out the poorly constructed roof and starting over.”

To whom else could he admit he’d been so terribly wrong?

Only Lessie.

He meant the leaky roof metaphorically, of course, but he could see understanding in Lessie’s softening expression.

What businessman, with a degree from Harvard, enjoyed learning he’d made serious misjudgments in how to operate the family business? He surely didn’t.

His
Loose Cannon
was right. She’d done the job he’d needed her to do. Even though she’d gone about it in a very different way than he’d imagined.

That didn’t make her wrong and him right. The realization seeped in, subtly shifting everything he believed about business and women… and his plans to operate the business as always, he and Adam operating the company and their wives doing wifely things.

“I heard you tell the workers that Big Ezra was the highest yielding mine.”

“Yes.”

“If any mine is worthy of your money, your time, energy, and the risk it all involves, Mr. Cannon, Big Ezra is it.”

He wanted to kiss her, to sweep her into his arms and finish this conversation later. Much later.

But she deserved to know all of it. This woman, his wife, had somehow breached yet another barrier he hadn’t known he’d erected.

She’d had perhaps two years of schooling. How had she gained so much wisdom, comprehension beyond everything he’d learned at University? She’d learned a great deal in the factories of Massachusetts.

And Adam had somehow known, intuitively, precisely what Cannon Mining, and they two as men, needed.

He’d never again make the mistake of assuming Lessie was uneducated.

“You are right, my dear.” He leaned in for a kiss, wondering if she’d allow it.

She seemed to hesitate, but did accept his kiss, even returned it. But too soon, she eased away, both little hands on his shoulders. She searched his gaze for the space of two or three heartbeats.

Who knew eye contact could be such an intimate experience?

For in her mahogany-dark brown eyes, he glimpsed uncertainty, hope, and trust. He wanted to erase any doubts this woman had. Replace uncertainty with confidence. Give her everything she’d never had, including a say in how things were run.

After all, she bore the Cannon name.

“Grandfather would have liked you.”

She tipped her head just a little off center. “Only
liked
me? Better than not liking me, I suppose.”

Richard couldn’t help it. He chuckled. “Grandfather would have loved you. And I think he’d have listened to every single idea you offered.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“What about you? Your grandfather isn’t here, doesn’t make the decisions any longer. This is up to you, Richard, and I want to know what you intend to do.”

“First, we’re going shopping.”

“For a building contractor?”

“First things first. You need a new wardrobe.”

Lessie’s temper erupted and he caught her around the middle, kissed her hard. “The camp will see snow by next week, they
always
do by late October. If you intend to travel back there with me, you need warm clothing. Better boots. A cloak and coat and warm woolen stockings.”

“I have three new woolen petticoats. One made of flannel.”

“They’re soiled. We’ll drop them at the laundry on our way out town, but you do require many more if we’ll be in Big Ezra for long.”

“All right,” she said. “We shop. And then we’ll leave?”

“The moment you’re properly outfitted, we leave for Big Ezra.”

She squealed with delight. “Thank you.”

What kind of a woman was far less excited about a day of shopping for new clothing and new shoes than returning to the wilds of a mining camp? Only his bride— one very special woman.

“I hope I’m wise enough to listen to your counsel, Lessie, every day of our lives. Remind me if I forget, won’t you?”

“Naturally.”

“I believe, wholeheartedly, that you’re right. We will start a pilot program with Big Ezra and see if it helps. I suspect we’ll bring the same kind of changes to the other sites.”

“You forgot the most immediate reward.” Her smile lit her eyes.

“You’re happy with me?”

She chuckled, shook her head. “I believe we might see the destruction of company property and the so-called
accidents
cease.”

“I do hope you’re right.”

Lessie waited in the buggy while Richard delivered the bundle of soiled clothing to the Chinese Laundry.

He climbed back into the vehicle, his brows tipped together. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought you’d bring clean things out with you.”

“Oh, they’re ready.” He flicked the reins and urged the team into a trot. “But I don’t want to take the time to return the clean clothes home. Can’t leave them in the buggy while we shop, either.”

Everything she’d seen of Ogden City made it seem the safest place.

“The railroad brings tramps through town, and more clean clothes are stolen off clotheslines than you’d imagine. Orchards are picked clean. If we have time after shopping, we’ll come back and collect the clean and pressed clothes.”

“I see.”

He pulled up in front of the post office. “Want to come in with me?”

“I’m fine here.”

“I’ll be back in two shakes.” He leapt from the buggy and had returned before she could admire the gowns on two well-dressed women who’d paused to visit on the sidewalk.

“You’re a popular lady.” He handed her a thick stack of letters that must’ve collected while they were away at Big Ezra. “I see you’ve received several letters from Massachusetts.”

“Anything from Josie?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t take the time to look through all of it.” Richard drove toward the next stop on their list, Deseret Telegraph.

Lessie flipped through the letters. Several envelopes containing business correspondence for Cannon Mining. Letters addressed to Mrs. Lessie Anne Hadley Cannon in care of Cannon Mining. From Alice, Lottie and Leora, Beth and India, Joanna and Judith…

Worry seemed to increase with every envelope, each addressed in familiar handwriting.

She searched through the stack twice. Perhaps a note from Josie had been lost between the folds of newspapers. Her husband subscribed to many city papers in the region of his mines.

Richard’s hand settled over her forearm. A steadying, gentle touch. “Nothing?”