Last Chance Wife. Janette Foreman

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      Winifred’s brows drew together. “He can save it, though...can’t he?”

      “Ma’am—” the man shook his head “—he’s been fightin’ a losin’ battle for this mine since it began. And even though I tell ’im so, he’s too stubborn to give in.”

      Winifred’s thoughts flashed back to their conversation at the store, when Mr. Burke had opened up about the Golden Star needing an investor. How protective he’d been. And the wounded look he displayed when they examined the ledger, like his worth was wrapped up in those three tiny sales.

      And now, an accident had compromised one of his men.

      “Mr. Burke carries the weight of this mine on his shoulders, Mr. Danielson.” Straightening her spine, she stuck out her chin. “He cares about the well-being of those who work here. I, for one, am glad he’s sticking to his vision.”

      Nodding farewell, she continued her trek to the office building.

      Mr. Burke was a tough man who didn’t smile. But now she knew meanness wasn’t the reason for his stalwart behavior. Fear was. Fear of losing everything he had labored so long to build. And he deserved his dream.

      He seemed to work hard to keep this place afloat, despite the doubt that had crept into some of the staff. She could only imagine the pressure. Her constant push to find a husband seemed like the closest experience she had to relate. The failed mail-order attempts, the downcast glances of Aunt and Uncle’s society friends. Mr. Ansell’s comment that because she’d been six times ordered but never a bride, there must be something wrong with her and that no one else would ever want her.

      If Mr. Burke felt anywhere near how she felt, then he needed encouragement. The mine needed encouragement. She understood his persistence, his refusal to give up or give in to despair. What woman who had accepted six proposals wouldn’t?

      Winifred didn’t know what needed to be done, but she determined to help Mr. Burke find more success than she had. Her mind buzzed with ways to help—provided she didn’t rearrange the potatoes and gold pans while at it.

      * * *

      Ewan’s footsteps clipped down the corridor toward the kitchen. Dawn had come much too early after a late night inside the mine, but with help from everyone, they were able to secure the timber support beams lining the damaged drift and get McAllister to safety.

      First thing after a few meager hours of sleep, Ewan had bathed, but the stench of sweat and soot still lingered somewhat—a constant reminder of how yesterday could’ve been so much worse. He’d thanked God over and over for His mercy on McAllister’s life.

      But what baffled him was why the timber frame had collapsed in the first place. Nothing like that had ever happened at the Golden Star. He used high-quality wood, never willing to skimp on something so essential, and held his miners to a high standard of safety, which they had always seemed to follow.

      Perhaps he simply needed to check in more often, maybe inspect their work at closer intervals for a while to ensure the utmost safety.

      But for now, he had a new order of business. Stepping into the kitchen, he located Miss Sattler.

      She stood at the preparation table filling lunch pails for the day shift. Her trim, plum-colored gown brushed the hardwood floor as she worked, her brown hair piled on her head in a confusing puzzle of twists and curls and pins. The ways of women—in both appearance and behavior—baffled him, and yet, he couldn’t help but appreciate their efforts. This woman’s in particular. A realization that had taken him by surprise last night.

      “Morning, Ewan.” Cassandra wiped her hands on a towel. “Breakfast is in the oven still but won’t be long.”

      “Not a problem. I’ll be back for breakfast. For now, I’m actually here to collect Miss Sattler.”

      The young woman’s head shot up. A sandwich hung in her clutches above a pail as if time had stopped. “Me?”

      “Yes, you.” He motioned toward the door. “I am giving you a tour of the grounds this morning.”

      Miss Sattler stared at him. Flicked her gaze to Cassandra and back. “You are?”

      Good grief. Did he have to spell it out? If her current behavior held any indication, he’d be surprised if she didn’t venture out on her own at some point in the near future to explore the claim: both the outbuildings and the mine itself. And if he was any judge of her character, he’d expect her to approach the dangerous passages with glowing enthusiasm and no caution whatsoever. So, rather than finding himself in the middle of a fiasco later, he’d take control of the situation now.

      “If you’ll be employed here for a while, then it’s time you learned how the mine operates. We’ll look around at the beginning of the morning shift, so we cause the least amount of disturbance.”

      He could have sworn the twinkle in her eyes brightened a hundredfold. Dropping the sandwich in the pail, she applauded the outing, then scooted across the room to join him.

      “I’m so excited about this,” she said as they made their way down the corridor. “I’ve wanted to look around.” Suddenly, her hand landed on his arm. “How is the worker from the accident? Is he going to be all right?”

      Unbidden warmth traveled through him. “He should be fine. He is at the doctor’s now, but I was told this morning he might be able to go home this afternoon. Regardless, he’ll be out of work several days to recover.”

      At the very least, thankfully, Miss Sattler had followed orders last night. Her response to danger had been rash and reckless...and heartwarming. Before she’d even known what the situation would hold, she’d been eager to help. But he hadn’t wanted to worry about her getting injured, too, in the midst of all the chaos. Surprising how much her well-being suddenly meant to him.

      To begin the tour, he led her up the mountainside. “First things first, these are some of the employees you’ll need to know about. Gerald Foster watches the grounds. He lives in his own apartment off the kitchen. He might be an old man, but he has impeccable aim. We’ve never had troubles here, but having him around is a security that helps me sleep at night.”

      “Can’t be too careful,” Miss Sattler agreed.

      “Exactly. Then there’s Marcus Lieberman, who manages the day shift of the stamp mills, while Charlie Danielson manages the night shift. And of course, you know Cassandra.”

      “Yes.”

      “You’ll also want to know a few terms.” He indicated the opening of the mine as they reached it. “This entrance is called an adit or a portal. Inside, the horizontal tunnels are called drifts. The vertical tunnels are shafts.”

      “Adits, drifts and shafts,” Winifred repeated. “Got it. Do we get to go inside?”

      “Yes, but stick close.” A chill ran through him as he lifted his lantern from a spike driven into the wall. Safety first, especially after yesterday. Miss Sattler should be perfectly safe by his side...but yesterday, he’d thought his men were safe inside the mine, as well. At least the men knew their way around, however. “I meant what I said about how easily you could get lost in a maze of drifts. Do not venture off on your own for any reason.”

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