she needed to calm herself before listening to what Ewan had to say.
Ewan stepped away from the counter. “Please explain to me what you’ve done with my store.”
Miss Sattler stared at him, wide-eyed. “What do you mean?”
Did she honestly not know, or was she pretending? “You moved things.” He strolled into the room, touching merchandise as he went. “The potatoes, the dry goods, the shovels...”
Miss Sattler hastened to open the curtains in the front windows. “You walked through here last night as I rearranged and didn’t say a word about it, so I figured it was fine.”
He flicked her a glare. Had he really been that preoccupied? “I wouldn’t give permission to move my merchandise. You’re supposed to watch the store, take customers’ money. Not fiddle with design.”
“I was bored. I needed something to do.”
Ewan almost laughed. “Then mop the floors or dust the shelves.” He gestured toward the mop and broom propped in the corner behind the counter. “There is plenty you could do, but do not touch my arrangement again under any circumstance.”
“All right, I’m sorry.” Throwing up her hands, she yanked the broom from behind the counter, giving vent to her obviously building nerves. “Although I fail to see why it’s a problem.”
“It’s a problem because this store needs to be in pristine condition. It’s the public face of the mine.” And, right now, a major source of income to keep the whole business afloat.
“My point exactly.” She paused midsweep to look at him, maintaining eye contact surprisingly well. “People like things that are new and fresh. Isn’t it dull to go into a store that always looks exactly the same? And the current arrangement didn’t make sense, so I fixed it.”
Ewan narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t make sense?” He’d put a lot of thought into where things went. “Tell me, have you decorated a store with success in the past?”
“Really, Mr. Burke, the shovels by the onion bulbs?” Her thin hand gestured at the basket near the door.
He folded his arms in return. “That makes perfect sense.”
“No, shovels should be with other mining supplies.”
“Or with gardening supplies, where I put them, next to the onion bulbs.”
She didn’t reply—only lowered her brows and stared at him. What emotion was that? Confusion or defiance?
Ewan crossed the floor toward her, his shoulders feeling square and severe, like he’d been carved from wood. “Just...ask next time. In fact, there shouldn’t be a next time. I can’t allow this kind of whimsical nonsense to affect my business. It is my name on the line, not yours.”
“Will switching a couple baskets and crates tarnish your reputation, Mr. Burke?”
Ewan cocked his head and watched as fire ignited Miss Sattler’s cheeks while she focused on sweeping. Had he been too harsh? Might’ve been, to coax such sarcastic responses from her.
Kindness, regardless of affliction.
Turning away, Ewan ran a hand over his hair and then down over his mouth. When he faced her again, he worked to keep his voice lowered. “I apologize for speaking so harshly. I overreacted.”
Miss Sattler stopped her sweeping and looked up.
Exhaling, he reached the counter, facing her on the opposite side. “I don’t know why I feel compelled to tell you this, but it seems you need to understand what I’m up against—why every aspect of this business is crucially important to me. The Golden Star Mine sits on prime real estate. Our water rights are coveted by every mining camp downstream, and while our gold production isn’t where it should be yet, our current findings promise quite the delivery.”
He paused, formulating his next sentence. Miss Sattler watched him with wide, interested eyes, nudging him to continue.
“Right now, the store is a major source of income. A potentially steady source of income, when we don’t know what the yields will be in the mine from one day to the next. There are many other shops in town offering the same things, so nothing really makes us stand out—all we can do is offer good quality, fair prices and a pleasant shopping experience. Which means having all the goods right where people know they can find them. I must have complete control over what happens. I can’t afford to let anyone else handle it.”
Miss Sattler set aside her broom. “Why do you need the store to supplement your mine’s earnings?”
An innocent question, but it stung just the same. “I need capital to expand this mine into what it should be, but so far all of our proceeds go back into the business simply to stay afloat. There are veins in the mountain I’m sure will lead to large quantities of gold, but I don’t have enough resources yet to mine or process it. More machinery is needed, both inside the mine and out, and more drifts need to be driven. I’m currently seeking an investor to help me over this hurdle.”
“Yes, you met with one the other day. It must be easy to find an investor in this town.”
He gave her an ironic smile. “Only easy if you want him to buy you out completely, or at the very least become a majority shareholder.” He shook his head. “No, I need someone who wants a small share rather than control of the whole operation. Someone who can offer capital and gain a profit but not dip his greedy fingers in too deeply and change all I’ve worked hard to create.”
She nodded as if she understood, then tipped her head to one side. “So, where will you find one of those? In Denver? Might your father know someone?”
“Yes—my father spoke with a business friend, the one interested enough to visit.”
“See, there you go!” She flashed him a bright smile. “Who was it? Perhaps I know of him.”
“Mr. Richard Johns.”
“Oh, yes, he’s a good friend of my uncle’s, too.” But then her smile faded. “You don’t seem too excited about his visit.”
“He wasn’t ready to invest at this time. I...have some work to do before he’s interested.” What that work would entail, Ewan wasn’t sure. How would he yield the proceeds Mr. Johns sought if he didn’t have the capital to make it happen? “He’ll be back in three months to see the mine again. Hopefully I’ll be able to impress him then.” If only Ewan’s voice didn’t sound so heavy. He didn’t really want to be this vulnerable.
Miss Sattler stood a little straighter. “Mr. Johns was here that day?” She pursed her lips in what appeared to be disappointment. “If only I’d known. I could’ve caught a ride with him and repaid him for the fare when I reached home. Or at least had him carry a message to my uncle so that he could wire me the fare.”
“Is fare money all that keeps you here?”
“Basically.”
“Why don’t you let me pay for a ticket?”
She shook her head. “Thank you, but with mail
