Silverton: Claims On The Heart Read online

  Her clean quilt was spread onto the rough, dusty floor. It would need a thorough washing before she could use it on a bed. Tonight, she was too tired to care.

  The next morning, after breakfast, her father left to inquire about housing.

  Kathleen knew from experience that a mercantile was a good place to make friends and discover new neighbors. Meeting the town’s ladies when they stopped by to shop would be good for business. But first, the shelves needed dusting.

  A young woman entered and gave Kathleen a measuring look. She wore a mint green dress with a high waist and lacing on her bodice. Her blonde hair was piled neatly on top of her head.

  Vic was helping a party of miners collect shovels and supplies.

  Kathleen set down her dust rag and stepped to the counter to greet her new customer.

  2

  The woman greeted her with a smile. “You must be the daughter of the new owner. Let me be one of the first to welcome you to Silverton. I’m Nancy Parker. I’ve been here since May. My husband is an assayer.”

  “I’m Kathleen Morris. We got here last night.” She gestured at the merchandise. “I’m embarrassed to open the doors with the place so untidy. I’ve been working on it, but there’s still a lot to do. My father owned a mercantile in St. Louis. It was nothing like this one.”

  “You’ll get used to the dust, or at least learn to live with it. Still, I’m pleased to have a woman behind the counter. Maybe now this store will pay more attention to our needs. And I don’t mind finding it a bit tidier in the bargain.”

  A man entered the store.

  “I see you’re busy, so I’ll select my buttons and thread and let you tend to business,” Nancy said. “I hope you’ll come to church tomorrow. The Congregational Church on Reese Street would surely welcome you.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate the invitation.”

  “When you’re settled, you must come to my house for tea.”

  “I’d love to.” Kathleen felt warmed by the invitation. Perhaps they would be able to talk awhile longer, maybe share a cup of tea. She had so many questions about the town. She looked forward to making a new friend. Yet there was no time to think of friends now. The store was filling with an endless stream of men who required everything from nails to tins of food.

  

  Collin tossed restlessly all night. He could not get the young woman out of his mind. Her smile and the tilt of her head had intrigued him.

  Of course, Martin had slithered out to greet her as soon as he saw her. Had they spent the evening together?

  At breakfast, everyone was talking. She was the daughter of the man who inherited the mercantile. The gossip indicated the pair arrived alternately as wealthy merchants with penchants for adventure, or as desperate and penniless relatives thrown on the mercy of their inheritance.

  Collin would pay a visit to the store and see for himself. He would have to relinquish a few of the coins he kept at the boardinghouse to buy something. He had been taking most of his pay straight to the bank to prove that he could save more than he spent. His nest egg was growing. But his desire to come face to face with the merchant’s daughter was stronger.

  He set off along the street. It was crowded with miners coming in for a Saturday in town. Collin dodged around mules and men who smelled as strong as their animals. The miners clogged Blair Street and spilled into more saloons, stores, and laundry establishments on Green Street, some stumbling from the whiskey that had already claimed their pay.

  He reached the store and stepped inside to have a glance around. There was a lull in business. The slender, dark-haired beauty behind the counter made his heart beat a little faster. She was every bit as lovely as he remembered. He hurried towards her to avoid being waited on by old Vic, who had caught his eye.

  A bearded miner finished his purchase.

  Collin stepped up. For a moment, he stood transfixed by eyes that reminded him of liquid pools of shimmering water, blue and cool on a summer day.

  “May I help you?”

  “I’ll take a hat,” he replied. “I’d like a nice one.”

  She smiled and a dimple showed in her chin. “Oh, you need a church hat?”

  Collin nodded. How long had it been since he had spent a Sunday morning at church? No matter. If that’s what it took to see another of her smiles, he would buy a new hat and attend every Sunday.

  “Which church do you recommend?”

  “I’m new here, but a woman just came in and invited me to the Congregational Church.” She smiled. “I’ll probably go there.”

  He filed the information away.

  She turned to secure a selection of hats for his approval. She set three hats on the counter.

  He placed them each on his head, in turn, and then asked for her opinion.

  “I believe I like the brown bowler best. The green trim along the band suits you well. Shall I make out a bill of sale…mister?” Her brows rose in query.

  “McAllister. Collin McAllister. And you must be Miss…?”

  “Kathleen Morris. My uncle used to own this store.”

  “I met him when I first came here.”

  She wrote out the sale and handed him the hat. “Do you mind if I ask what you do here in Silverton, Mr. McAllister?”

  Collin wanted to tell her that he was the only son of a wealthy railroad investor. Pride held him back. How could he explain his estrangement from his father? “I’m working in a mine. I’ve been here about six months.”

  Surprise registered on her face. No doubt, the miners she had met looked a great deal rougher.

  “How do you like it?” she asked.

  “I’ve had easier jobs,” he said.

  “I like a man who is not lazy or afraid of hard work,” Kathleen proclaimed.

  Perhaps some good might come of his exile. She would not have liked him six months ago when he was lazy and doggedly determined to avoid any sort of work.

  She became all business as she handed him the hat. “Thank you for coming to our store. We’d appreciate your business if you need any other supplies.” Her gaze was drawn towards the front window, and she gasped.

  He turned to the open door that led to the street.

  A young woman sprawled across the boardwalk, her black hair hiding her face.

  Kathleen started to the door, but Collin got there first. He strode onto the wooden walkway and knelt beside the woman. “Are you hurt?”

  Kathleen joined him.

  The woman’s eyes were light brown, the color of sable. She looked like a frightened animal as she tried to scramble to her feet. One of her ankles gave way and she clutched it with a groan.

  Kathleen laid a hand on her shoulder. “That man nearly ran you over with his horse. It was fortunate you got out of his way. You should come inside and let me have a look at your ankle.”

  “I couldn’t possibly do that. I’ll be fine once I get home.”

  “How far away do you live?”

  “Only one block. I can make it.”

  Collin helped her to her feet. She leaned heavily against his shoulder.

  Kathleen came around and took her elbow. “I’ll help, too. Vic can watch the store.”

  The girl shook off her arm. “Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t belong on Blair Street. Go back inside your store.”

  Kathleen recoiled.

  “She’s right,” he said softly. “Go back inside. I’ll help her home.” He didn’t wait for Kathleen to answer but started down the boardwalk.

  They turned the corner, with Collin supporting the young woman so she could keep most of her weight off of the injured ankle. They reached the bordello.

  “I was on my way to the bank when I was nearly run over,” the woman said. “It wasn’t an accident, you know. He was mad because he’d been told not to come back.”

  A man had to do something pretty despicable to be told not to return to a business that relied on men’s patronage.

  Collin said nothing but helped her up the po
rch steps.

  She paused at the doorway.

  All was quiet inside the building. In a few more hours, raucous music, shouts, and laughter would spill from the windows and doors.

  The woman fingered his sleeve. “It’s early still, but you could come back later if you’d like, for free, since you helped me. Just ask for Polly.” She studied the pattern on his cuff, not meeting his eyes.

  Collin tipped his hat as he stepped away from her. Kathleen’s upturned face flashed through his mind. Even with no money involved, he knew he would not be taking up Polly’s offer. “Thanks, Polly, but I was glad to be of help.”

  She nodded and limped inside, closing the door behind her.

  

  When her father returned to the store that afternoon, he was beaming with good news. “Kathleen, my girl, I’ve found us a house. It’s small, but it has two bedrooms, a kitchen, and even a little parlor. The bank repossessed it from a miner who struck it rich, spent it all, and then got sick and had to leave town.”

  “The poor man.”

  Why did Collin McAllister come to mind when her father spoke? That well-muscled body, handsome face, the light in his green eyes as he tried on hats, his wavy dark hair resting just below the brim, had made quite the picture. If he stayed in the mining business long enough, he, too, might grow thin and ill. He had seemed such a gentleman, compassionate and gentle as he’d helped the fallen woman to her feet.

  “Well, wouldn’t you like to see it?” her father asked. He produced a key.

  “It’s ours already? We can move in?”

  “Yes, to both. I signed a lease with the bank. We move in tonight.”

  “Does it have furniture?”

  “It does, though the table is a bit rickety and only one bedroom is furnished. I’ll have to order another bed from the town carpenter.”

  Kathleen grabbed her bonnet and pulled it over her dark hair. “I can’t wait to see it.”

  Her father grabbed a few supplies and held out his arm to his daughter. “Can you watch the store?” he asked Vic. “I’ve just found a house on Reese Street very close to the church.”

  “Be glad to.”

  They walked down Green Street, turned the corner to Reese Street, and her father stopped at a little square house not far from the church. It was boxy and the whitewash was fading. But it meant rescue from the dark and dirty shelter above the store. This would be her house to clean and improve, to sew curtains for the windows, and plant flowers in the garden. She would make it home for both of them, and she would not think of the home she had left behind. Life in these circumstances would be as comfortable as she could possibly make it for her father and herself.

  The yard was filled with native grass and blue and pink flowers that reminded her of snapdragons.

  They climbed the two concrete steps.

  Her father turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door.

  The stale odor of mice, soot, and dust greeted them. The wood plank floor groaned in protest under their feet.

  Improvements were needed, especially a broom and lots of lye soap, all of which she could get from the store. Once the floor was clean, a few colorful coiled rugs would brighten the room.

  Her father lit a lamp.

  The kitchen had a sturdy black stove, dirty, but usable, a large wash basin for the dishes, a wooden table and two chairs. Two rows of shelves lined the walls, along with several hooks.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “With a little work, we can make this a comfortable place.” She laughed. “I should see the bedrooms before I get too confident, though.”

  Her room contained a bed and small wardrobe. The bed was stripped bare of sheets, leaving only the stuffed straw mattress. Kathleen eyed it doubtfully. “Do you think it’s clean?”

  “It would be a simple matter to re-stuff it with clean straw. I could get you some tomorrow.”

  “Let’s see your room.”

  “Not much to see yet. It’s bare as bones.” He was right. The only things in his room were a few discarded tins of snuff. “It shouldn’t take long to get a bed frame made.”

  “I’ll get some material from the store and make your mattress when I do mine,” Kathleen said.

  “Once we’re settled in here, we’ll be snug and cozy this winter.”

  “We won’t want for anything, except for supper, if I don’t get some started.”

  Her father carried the lamp back to the kitchen, and then helped light the stove. From its sooty inside, he managed to coax a steady fire.

  Kathleen opened a can of beans and the sausage that Papa had brought from the store. While she cooked, her father returned to town to rent a cart from the livery to carry their belongings back to the house. When he returned, they sat down to their supper. The kitchen was cozy in the flickering light.

  For the first time since her mother’s death, her father was showing interest in something. This home and store seemed to raise his spirits. He had needed a good shaking up, something different to take his thoughts off what they’d lost.

  Someone rapped on the front door.

  “Are you expecting anyone?”

  Her father shook his head and went to answer the summons.

  Kathleen followed.

  Martin stood on the stoop. “I hope you don’t mind that I came by. Vic told me where you’d gone. I wanted to bring by a little present to celebrate your new house.”

  “We don’t mind, do we, Kathleen?” Papa stepped aside.

  Martin held a bottle and three glasses in his long, slender hands. “I bought this at the hotel, the best they have. I hope you like red wine.”

  “It’s my favorite,” her father answered. “I’ve been known to indulge in it from time to time.”

  Since he’d gone to the expense of buying it, Kathleen would do her best to drink a little, even though she didn’t really care for spirits.

  Her father turned up the lamp in the parlor.

  Kathleen whacked dust off the sofa. Entertaining a gentleman when the house needed so much work was awkward. Martin’s fine dark pants would surely show the particles of grit that coated the upholstery. Yet, he didn’t seem to notice.

  She sat next to Martin and accepted a goblet of wine.

  His hand lingered, touching her fingers. “Nothing but the best,” he repeated as his gaze roved from her hands to her face.

  “We didn’t expect such a treat.” Kathleen spoke, uncomfortable with his scrutiny. “It seems Silverton has its share of refined comforts.”

  “You haven’t experienced Silverton until you have dined at the Grand Hotel.” Martin handed her father a goblet, too. “I take most of my dinners there. Since you’re from a fine city, you would appreciate dining there.”

  Kathleen took a small taste of wine to be polite.

  Martin swirled the ruby liquid in an exaggerated air of refinement.

  Her father had a look of pleasure on his face.

  “This was very kind of you, Martin,” Kathleen said. “I never sleep well the first night I’m in a new place. But after a glass of wine, I’ll sleep like a baby.”

  “I like a woman who enjoys her wine without overdoing it.”

  “Tell us more about your business,” Papa encouraged Martin. “I admit I’m ignorant about mining.”

  Martin was happy to oblige. He spent the next half hour explaining the workings of the stamp mill and his cleverness in bringing it to Silverton.

  Kathleen’s eyelids grew heavier.

  His voice became a monotonous drone.

  She wanted to excuse herself and go to bed. Her muscles ached from cleaning the store and doing the small amount of cleaning she’d done here in their new home.

  At last, Martin drew out his gold pocket watch. “With such good company I didn’t realize it was getting so late. I had better let you both get some sleep.”

  Kathleen attempted to hand him her glass, but he stopped her, his fingers covering the top of her hand. “Keep the gl
asses. Perhaps we can have another drink together.”

  Kathleen and her father accompanied him to the door.

  “Will I see you in church?” Martin asked.

  “You will if you are attending the Congregational Church.”

  “I am.” He ducked out the door with a last nod to Kathleen, bending slightly to clear the door frame.

  “I think you have an admirer,” her father said, after he shut the door. He grinned at Kathleen.

  “All I want now is a good night’s sleep.”

  “Of course. You’re tired. Take your bedding to your room. I’ll sleep here on the sofa. Tomorrow we’ll make up proper beds.”

  Kathleen hauled her sheets to her room and piled them atop the straw mattress. She crawled in and wrapped herself like a mummy before falling instantly asleep.

  She stirred early the next morning at the crowing of a neighbor’s rooster. A column of sunlight slanted down the wall, illuminating every stain on the fading whitewash. The room was bare. But this was home, her new home, and she was eager to fix it up.

  Kathleen swung her feet onto the floor and swept up her covers. She would start their breakfast, and then haul water to the metal washtub she’d seen outside the kitchen door. After she had washed their clothes and bedding, she intended to haul the tub inside and give herself a good scrubbing from head to foot. Only then would she feel presentable for church.

  Her father roused and joined her in the kitchen, looking sleepy-eyed and tousled. Rays of light through the kitchen window illuminated the top of his balding head, wreathed by thin strands of graying.

  She filled a pan of water while he started a fire in the oven. Soon she had breakfast mush bubbling on the stove. “I wish we had eggs and milk to go along with it,” Kathleen said.

  “Once we get to know folks, we’ll be able to trade staples from the store for extras.”

  Kathleen spooned their breakfast into bowls. “Today, I’ll settle for new material for mattress covers.”

  After breakfast, Kathleen set about doing their wash. She boiled water and poured it from the kettle into the wash tub. She added lye soap and stirred the bedding with a stout broom handle until she was sure it was clean. Her father helped her drain the tub and rinse the bedding, and he even helped hang it over branches of a sturdy aspen to dry.