from the avalanche had filled the gap with more than fifty feet of snow. The locomotive and the passenger cars were destroyed, and Jonah was sure the rails would be warped or torn free. There would be no trains coming or going from Bachelor Bottoms until the snow melted. Even then, it might take months to repair the line.
“Mebbe we could get a man t’ hike over the top.” The suggestion was given half-heartedly.
Jonah had already entertained the same thought. He’d even sent one of the miners to test the slopes. But the drifts were unsettled and loose, and each step had threatened to cause another avalanche, so Jonah had been forced to call the fellow back. He wouldn’t risk a man’s life in a foolhardy attempt to get the women out of the valley. It could wait a day or two.
He hoped.
Unfortunately, he was beginning to see that while he and some of the other men had spent their time on the mountainside, the situation here in the mining camp was growing more critical than he’d first supposed. Just as he’d feared, the arrival of the women had upset the carefully regulated schedules of shifts and respites. Worse, there was a restlessness permeating the air—as if the wind itself could sense that things had changed at Bachelor Bottoms.
The men were no longer alone.
“How long have they been this way, Creakle?”
“An hour or so. ’Bout the same time Batchwell came stormin’ into the office and told me to send someone t’ tell you t’ come back t’ town fer a meeting.”
Jonah grimaced. A late-night conference with the owners wasn’t completely out of character. But Batchwell’s exact words as quoted by the runner was for Jonah to “bring along that chit,” meaning their new company doctor.
“I guess it was too much to hope that I could break the news about Sumner Havisham’s gender to Ezra Batchwell and Phineas Bottoms,” Jonah said ruefully.
Creakle chortled. “Word spread through the camp faster than that snow comin’ off the mountain. Mebbe you didn’t notice, but Batchwell and Bottoms hightailed it to the accident scene so quick I wouldn’a been surprised if the snow hadn’t melted ahead of them like the Red Sea parting for Moses.”
Jonah grimaced. He might not have seen the men coming, but he’d heard Batchwell shouting at the rescue party with such indignation that his bellowing had threatened to bring the rest of the mountainside down around their ears. Jonah’s only consolation had been the fact that Dr. Havisham had left with the first group of passengers to be taken into town. Jonah had told Ike Everett, one of the mule skinners, to take the passengers to the Miners’ Hall where the women could warm themselves and dry their clothes. Therefore, when Batchwell had stomped up the hillside, demanding to see the “lying, thieving, no-good charlatan,” Sumner Havisham wasn’t around.
Jonah might not approve of a woman parading around as a doctor, but he wouldn’t subject any gentle-born female to Batchwell’s anger. He had a short fuse and his temper could burn as hot as dynamite. After nearly twenty minutes of ranting about the avalanche, the mangled train and the stranded passengers, Jonah had thought the man had vented his anger once and for all. But judging from the lamplight blazing from the office windows, both Ezra Batchwell and Phineas Bottoms were waiting for round two.
Creakle snorted. “Looks like they’re ready t’ confront the lady doctor, and you get t’ be the witness.”
Right now, all Jonah wanted was a hot meal and a warm bed. He was cold and hungry and had long since lost his patience. He needed a few minutes of peace, quiet and solitude to push back the old demons that rattled inside him whenever his back seized up and burned like the blazes.
Many more days like today, and you’ll be pushin’ up daisies.
No.
Any moments of respite he’d hoped to have seemed far from likely. Even now, as he nudged his gelding onto the main thoroughfare, he sensed the hushed expectancy. The shivering anticipation. The need. Even worse, the air shimmered with a host of unusual noises.
Laughter.
High-pitched chatter.
Singing.
With each step his mount took, it became obvious that—while Jonah had been overseeing the rescue operation—the men who hadn’t been on the slopes or on duty had seen to the needs of the stranded passengers, the bulk of whom were women. Now they didn’t look inclined to leave. By the looks of it, half the men of Bachelor Bottoms stood on the road outside the Miners’ Hall. All of them within full view of the mine offices.
No wonder the owners were riled up again.
“We found a few menfolk—farmers and salesmen—and two small families on the train. They’ve been put up in the empty miners’ houses on the edge of town,” Creakle said. “A few of the miners doubled up so we had enough room for everyone. But the womenfolk...”
They’d been brought to the hall as a temporary situation, but it was apparent that they would have to stay there for a little while longer. There was no other building large enough to house that many females at once. Unfortunately, that meant that the men who were used to gathering there to play darts or checkers had nowhere else to go.
Jonah followed the direction of the men’s gazes toward the two-story building. Even though the evening was black as pitch, it was easy to see that the women had staked their claim on the frame structure. Soft lamplight painted the street with panes of buttery gold. Due to a lack of curtains, the women had seen fit to make do with what window coverings they could find. The openings were hung with lacy petticoats and brightly patterned shawls, scarves and dresses. Overall, the effect was warm and inviting and fanciful—and certainly more welcoming than the chilly miners’ shacks or the inquisition that awaited Jonah in the main office.
Even worse, now that the men had been drawn to the hall by the feminine sounds, they weren’t inclined to leave, even though there was little hope that they would ever be invited inside. Instead, dressed in their coats and hats and scarves, they pounded their boots to keep warm. But they didn’t talk. There was a nervousness, a giddiness and...a reverence to their vigil—as if they feared the women would disappear in a puff of smoke.
“The men have been at it since they ended their shift,” Creakle offered “By then, they weren’t needed on the hill, so’s they came to gawp at the ladies.”
Which meant Batchwell and Bottoms were probably close to a fit of apoplexy.
Jonah opened his mouth to order the men to return to their quarters, but before he could speak, one of the heavy carved doors to the hall flew open, and there, backlit in the lamplight, was Miss...
No.
Dr. Havisham.
Somehow, she’d found the time to clean herself up. Her face was washed, her clothes were changed and a voluminous apron covered her from hem to neck. She stood for a moment, her hands on her hips, frowning at the shapes she could see in the darkness.
“Get away now! Scat!” She shooed at them with the hem of her apron. “These women don’t need you spying on them like foxes eyeing a henhouse. Go home.”
Finally, the miners began slipping away into the shadows. As soon as the last man had turned away, Dr. Havisham sent a stern gaze in Jonah’s direction.
“Mr.
