Lessie: Bride of Utah (American Mail-Order Bride 45) (8 page)

“I am three years his senior.” He linked his hands between his knees. “I must admit I insisted on learning the business early. At age six or seven, I felt my time as a child had ended. That was irrational, but at the time it made sense in my head. My parents were dead, and that meant my grandparents could die at any time. I felt compelled to understand the workings of the empire my grandfather had built.”

“I know what it is to go to work at that tender age.” She shook her head. “But we’re talking about you. I want to know why this journey to New Mexico must happen now, and why an owner had to visit in person.”

He would far rather hear about her. But he wasn’t a coward, so he dived back in.

“My grandfather died nine months ago. Since then, I’m ashamed to admit, the business has been failing.”

“What do you mean— failing?”

“Losing profit margins, waning output from various mines, losses due to accidents and theft. We’ve suffered more casualties this year than in the five previous combined.”

Lessie’s dark brows drew together in confusion. “You believe you’re responsible?”

Of course he did— he sat in Grandfather’s chair. “I make the decisions. I bear the responsibility.” He couldn’t expect her to understand the business aspect. After all, women never talked business amongst themselves, and he’d learned long ago he must refrain from such tedious subjects in polite company, including Aunt Anna-Lisa and his young cousin Lucinda.

“Adam and I have worked together, he as my right-hand man since his twenty-first birthday. Grandfather chose to semi-retire at that time and turned over the daily operations to us. He’d tutored me heavily until that time. I learned everything I possibly could from him.”

“Was Adam also tutored?”

“Naturally.”

“And he is as vested in the success of the family business?”

So much for assuming Lessie would become bored by talk of business. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m trying to understand why Adam was the one to go to New Mexico.” She traced a fingertip over the intricate carving along the edge of the table rather than look him in the eye. “If he’s equally dedicated, I can see his urgency to pay that mine a personal visit.”

“We have two pressing matters. One must be handled locally and the other in New Mexico Territory. We flipped a coin.”

“I’m surprised.” She searched his face for some kind of an answer. “Why did you not wire the managers and have them handle it?”

“We’ve learned to trust in only ourselves. It’s not easy to have unlimited faith in employees.”

“Oh?” She looked up with obvious curiosity. “Have employees proved untrustworthy?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”
Thirty-five deaths in two mines. No fewer than fourteen traitors.

“Not all managers are untrustworthy. The woman who managed Brown Textile Mill where I worked was a good employee. Fair. Honest to a fault. Mr. Brown, the owner, hardly stepped foot in the door. An absentee landlord if one ever existed. He left the operations in Roberta’s capable hands.”

“If only Cannon Mining were so blessed.”

She seemed to think that over. “Help me understand why you cannot trust your managers— and if you cannot trust them, why do they remain on your payroll?”

Richard sifted through bits and pieces of reasons, finally settling on the big picture. “Trouble has slowly increased at the mines… all fourteen sites. Most recently, and most seriously, at our two highest-producing locations.” His stomach pitched with renewed helplessness and fury. “It’s not possible to fire enough people to be certain we’ve excised the culprit. Meanwhile, good men lose much-needed employment.”

What would Grandfather have done?

I don’t know.

“New Mexico Territory.” Lessie clearly comprehended the connection.

“Yes.”

A moment passed, then two, as Richard tried to decide what to disclose next, and more importantly, how to phrase it. He detested the sense of all-consuming responsibility. He had to do something to save the company his beloved grandfather had built from nothing but dirt and blood and sweat.

“Yesterday, we received word of… accidents at two mines.”

To his surprise, she waited for him to continue without interrupting. He expected further questions, or perhaps impatience.

“Both locations— one here in Utah Territory and the other in New Mexico— cost good men their lives.”

“I’m sorry.” He noted the genuine sadness dampening her lovely features. Surely she’d known industrial accidents, people lost to tragedy.

He nodded to show acceptance of her kind words. “In situations like this, we needed to pay a visit in person, express condolences to loved ones left behind, and manage risks on-site.”

“Adam and Josie are headed for the New Mexico mine.” An astute observation.

“Yes.”

Lessie leaned forward a bit in her chair. “And you’ll handle the Utah problems.”

He nodded.

“Where is this Utah mine?”

He gestured toward the mountains to the east. “Big Ezra is in a branch of Ogden Canyon. Six to seven miles, as the crow flies.”

“Is this what brought you and Adam to Utah?”

He blinked, caught off guard yet again.

“Your home is new. You mentioned living in Utah among the Mormons for only two years. I assume you were near your aunt and uncle until then. Given neither were at the weddings, I assume they live elsewhere. Am I incorrect?”

He detested how easily she read him. Did his employees see through him so easily?

“Yes. Grandfather had us— Adam and I— relocate at Junction City, Ogden, because it’s the geographical center of our operations. And we built a lead and silver smelter just outside town.”

She nodded. “When do we leave?”

Unease had him leaning forward in his chair. He still had so much he had to explain, details he had to impress upon her, make certain she understood how serious this trip was. “I want you to come along… I need you to. But it’s a rough camp and I must explain some serious conditions.”

“Adam and Josie left for New Mexico on their wedding day.” She paused for emphasis. “It’s obvious you’re facing trouble from within.”

“Yes.”

“You and Adam specifically asked for brides from the working class. You needed me for what I understand of the men and women you employ. I’m here to do whatever I might to help Cannon Mining— it’s
my
family business now, too. Do I understand you?”

Exactly what he’d hoped to hear,
needed
to hear.

“Richard— I can see the truth. Why else would one of you, the owners, travel so very far? Why not send a wire instructing your foreman to address it? It’s evident you don’t trust him.”

“I— We…”

“
Why
don’t you trust him?”

How had he lost control of the conversation? He nearly growled with frustration and
impotence
. How had Lessie, in town mere hours, guessed with accuracy? Were he and Adam so transparent?

He could only pray she could read his miners as readily.

Richard leaned forward, reached for her hand which she gave easily enough. He squeezed her fingers, held her gaze, silently begged her to understand the gravity of the situation. “This is a matter of company security, Lessie. Do you understand the necessity for discretion?”

“You think me a nitwit? I’m not foolish nor loose with confidences.”

In the glow of late afternoon sunlight streaming through the west-facing windows, her eyes seemed warmer, a milk-chocolate brown. The light caressed her glossy waves and softened the contrast. He wanted to trust her.

“I am your wife,” she reminded him, “and my future is forever connected to yours.” She enclosed his hand between both of hers. “What can I do to help?”

The gentleness in her tone caught him unprepared. “You… We…” He cleared his throat.

“This is why you and Adam sent for mail order brides, is it not? You needed a specific kind of woman. I’m beginning to see why. Now I’d like to know the rest of it.”

Myriad reasons jumbled together, tying his thoughts into knots. She’d primed the conversation perfectly, now he simply had to spit it out. Still, admitting he needed her to help him in ways he couldn’t help himself… it fueled his sense of inadequacy.

A man was supposed to protect and provide, to buffer his wife’s exposure to the coarser elements of life.

He should ensure her ease and comfort, not place her directly within the path of difficulty.

“I need you because
I don’t understand them
.”
His chest heaved with rising emotion. “Something is dreadfully wrong, and I can’t see it. Short of erasing my upbringing and growing up among our workers, I see
one
possible way to bridge the gap.”

“Wives with working class experience.”

“Yes. Adam and I need brides who could help us comprehend our employees.” He found the extended eye contact far more intimate than he’d known possible. “Can you do that? Can you help me?”

For the first time since the conversation began, she seemed hesitant to speak.

Desperation increased. “I
need
you.”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Yes,” this time louder. “I’m your wife, and I’ll do everything I possibly can.”

“Good.” Already, tension waned. He held her hand, drew a fortifying breath, and clung to her confidence. “I’m trusting you with highly sensitive information. I’m trusting you with
our
family business… and there is much you need to know.”

She nodded. Steady. Certain.

“More importantly, there is much you must not disclose in any way. If the miners so much as suspect—” The thought of what they might do…

He swallowed the pain, refusing to borrow trouble. He had enough as it was.

Somehow, he found the words and told her everything.

Chapter Seven

“Come,” Richard said after some time to Lessie. “Let me show you the house.” He helped her to her feet and led her through the doorway into the sitting room with its bay window and marble-framed fireplace.

She admired the furnishings, the polished hardwood floors, and cleanliness…

But when he showed her the full bathroom across the hall, she clapped a hand over her mouth… in shock? In pleasure? He’d seen this room many a time, had soaked in that bathtub daily. He was far more interested in absorbing her facial reactions.

But daylight was fading, and the north-facing window didn’t shed enough light, so he turned on the gas lighting.

She followed him inside, trailed her fingertips over the faucet taps at the sink, the highly polished paneling surrounding the inset tub.

“Perhaps you’d like to enjoy a bath tonight,” he suggested. “Soak away the day’s tension.”

“I’d like that.”

This, this… beautiful, fiery, brilliant creature was his
wife
.

And he rather liked the idea, the headway they’d made toward developing some sort of foundation.

And the thought of having something very special with this woman— his wife— sent a rush of heated blood through him, making his too-tight collar dampen with sweat and his hands shake.

Embarrassing, that. He was a grown man. Twenty-seven years of age.

But he liked pleasing her. Too much.

“There’s more.” He took her hand, led her further into the house. “My office.”

He watched her scan the square room, the huge double desk in the center. Masculine chairs at opposite sides. “Mine,” he indicated, “and Adam’s.”

“Ah.”

“This room is likely meant for a guest room, or perhaps an older couple’s bedroom when the stairs to the second floor become too daunting. Perhaps it will become our bedroom when we’re old.”

Her grip on his hand tightened a bit and he couldn’t help but smile. The thought of growing old with this woman sounded mighty fine to him.

“This room is boring. Come with me.” He tugged her along behind him into the other doorway into the sitting room. The fireplace made up the dividing wall along the center of the house, one passage in and out of this main room on either side. “The dining room.”