forgettin’. They hired Dr. Havisham on the understanding that she was a he. She’s got a boy’s name, don’t she? So they’re probably thinkin’ she was up to some shenanigans in getting the job. Problem is...she’s got a five-year contract.”
“And?”
“And I don’t think she’s of a mind t’ give up an’ go home just cuz they tell her to.” He nodded in Dr. Havisham’s direction. “An’ she’s not likely to give in anytime soon. Not with a signed agreement. Don’t know whether they’ve thought of that. Seems to me, she prob’ly has the law on her side.”
Jonah winced at the thought. Then, knowing that there was no way around it, he swung his leg over the saddle and lowered himself to the ground. The pain that radiated through his body was enough to make him rethink the “no cussing” portion of his employment contract.
“Don’t s’pose there’s any way you could just go home an’ put yer feet up, is there?” Creakle asked once Jonah had managed to hold himself up under his own steam.
“No,” he grunted through clenched teeth.
Creakle grinned. “Then I’ll be leavin’ ye with my best wishes.” When the door to the hall opened and Dr. Havisham sailed out, Creakle added, “Yer gonna need it.”
* * *
Sumner didn’t need her ears to burn for her to know that Jonah Ramsey and the wizened Mr. Creakle had been talking about her. Their guilty looks were all the confirmation she required as she stepped outside.
“Evenin’ t’ ye, ma’am,” Creakle said—a vein of hidden mirth evident in his tone.
Before she could comment, he reined his mule in the opposite direction to the mine offices, pulling Mr. Ramsey’s horse behind him.
“Mr. Creakle won’t be joining us?” she murmured as the man disappeared.
“No. He’ll be needed at first light for the morning Devotional.”
“As will you,” she pointed out.
The man moved slowly, joining her on the boardwalk. In the lamplight that streamed from the hall windows, Sumner was able to see sharp lines of weariness bracketing his lips.
“True. But I’m used to an all-day shift, now and again.”
She wanted to point out that he’d had an all-day, all-night shift, but she feared that such a remark would allow a...personal note to enter into their conversation, and she supposed that wouldn’t be the wisest course of action.
“Shall we?” Jonah gestured to the office and she fell into step next to him.
She was surprised to find that, despite the rough-and-tumble surroundings, the boardwalk was wide and completely devoid of snow. The buildings—which had obviously been constructed with some haste—had been made to withstand the elements. On each building, a placard proclaimed the building’s purpose: Cook Shack, Barber Shop, Company Store. Bachelor Bottoms had the comforts of a real town, if in miniature.
However, the more she gazed around her, the more Sumner became aware of a lack of a feminine touch. There were no displays at the store, no curtains in the windows, no library, no schoolhouse—not that an all-male encampment would have children to educate. But it left an impression of starkness. Impermanence. As if the town knew that such austerity could not be tolerated for an extended amount of time.
“How long has the mine been here?” she asked.
“Seven years.”
She gaped at Mr. Ramsey. “Really? Everything looks so...new.”
Jonah nodded and she became aware of the way he moved with a gingerness that belied his powerful frame.
“The first five or six years...this was a tent city. Most of the buildings are less than a year old.”
“But how could you live here in the winter without some kind of shelter?” The air around her bit through her clothing and her breath hung in front of her face like a silver cloud. Why would anyone endure such conditions with only a tent for protection?
“I suppose a man can get used to anything if the job is right.”
She couldn’t prevent the way that her mouth gaped—and Mr. Ramsey must have taken exception to her disbelief because he said, “Most of the miners are immigrants from England, Scotland and Wales. There are some from Europe, and a few from the coal mines back east. All of them came here with empty pockets, hollow bellies or dreams for a better future. They can make twice at Batchwell Bottoms than they could at their old jobs. That’s a powerful incentive to any man.”
“And what was your incentive, Mr. Ramsey?”
He looked at her, meeting her gaze with an expression that was as fathomless as the shadows that surrounded them. In the light of the lanterns posted at intervals on the buildings they passed, she thought she saw a flash of pain, a loneliness. But just as quickly, the emotions were gone.
“That’s a conversation for another time.” His curt refusal set her firmly in her place. After all, she was a woman in a man’s world.
The unfairness of it all caused an old, familiar defensiveness to bubble up inside her.
She stopped him with a hand on his arm, then snatched it back again when he stared down at it.
“You don’t like me very much, do you, Mr. Ramsey?”
His gaze was impatient. “I haven’t formed an opinion one way or the other, Dr. Havisham. I haven’t had time.”
“But you don’t like the idea of a woman doctor in your town, do you?”
He considered his words before saying, “No, ma’am, I don’t.”
“Haven’t I demonstrated that I’m more than qualified?” She waved a hand in the direction of the Miners’ Hall. “I’m highly trained and good at what I do. Shouldn’t that be the only factor in my employment?”
“No.”
“And why not?”
“Because you’re a woman.”
“Obviously.”
“And as a woman, you’ll cause trouble.”
“Do you think me so lacking in self-control? Or is it your men who can’t keep themselves in line?”
He huffed, clearly unwilling to enter into her argument, but she refused to let him dodge it—a fact she made clear by refusing to budge until he answered her question.
“I don’t think you or my men are morally weak, Dr. Havisham. I’m merely being realistic. Men will be men, and women will be women.”
“Meaning what? That a woman must be, by definition, weak?”
“No. Meaning that a man and a woman cannot be together without certain...situations coming into play.”
She
