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  The man called Buzzard shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Name’s Albert Collins, Mrs. Price. These yahoos I work with stuck me with that insulting moniker.”

  The man named Charlie turned to him and snorted. “The way you lurch over everyone’s plate in case they leave a crumb of bread or drop of gravy you can filch, you earned that name fair and square.”

  The man shrugged as he offered Dahlia a sheepish grin. “Don’t like seeing food go to waste if it ain’t going to get et.”

  Charlie grumbled deep in his throat as he speared Albert with a glare. He returned his gaze to Dahlia. “Told Mr. Bainbridge I’d bring Nathan’s gear over to you. Been a spell since I drove a wagon, but that old mule and me got along just fine. Got the wrong house at first, but Aaron set me straight. Told me to come to the back.”

  Dahlia held back a laugh. Halfway through the introductions, she already figured both of these men must be quite the characters.

  Albert’s expression grew serious. “We feel powerful bad about what happened to Nathan, especially with a nice lady like you coming to marry him, and all. You mind if we step inside with his trunk and kit, maybe take a quick look at him?” He hesitated as he glanced at Charlie. “Plus, we got us a question we’d like to ask you. There’s money riding on the answer.”

  Dahlia raised both eyebrows. Money riding on the answer? She opened the door wider and stepped to the side. “Certainly, gentlemen. Please, come in. You can leave the trunk and sack here in the kitchen. As for the blankets and pillow…” She took them from Charlie but immediately recoiled as the smell of stale smoke and body odor hit her. “They are certainly welcome. However, considering Mr. Price’s current condition, they need to be washed first.” She spun toward the wash room, where she dumped the bedroll in the metal tub. She returned to the kitchen and gestured toward the door leading to the bedroom. “Follow me, please. My husband is still not aware of his surroundings, but I’ll let you spend a few minutes with him.”

  Dahlia itched to dig through the trunk and sack to see if she could find a clean pair of socks for Nathan. However, she forced herself to patiently wait in the doorway as the two men, their hats in their hands, stood at the foot of the bed and stared at Nathan. She answered their questions about his condition the best she could, assuring them of her confidence he would eventually regain consciousness and, hopefully, fully recover.

  As the men returned to the kitchen, they stopped in the middle of the floor and eyed each other before Charlie turned to face her. “Ma’am, we’re a mite curious about something. You see, your letters, when they come, stunk of some mighty fine pipe tobaccy.”

  Dahlia blinked. “Surely, they didn’t.”

  “Yes, ma’am, they did. Bet you they still do.”

  Charlie squatted on his haunches next to Nathan’s trunk and opened the lid. A myriad of odors emanated from it, including one familiar to Dahlia. She watched Charlie lift out a stack of letters she recognized as the ones she had mailed to Nathan.

  A bliss-filled smile on his face, Charlie inhaled deeply. He held the stack of letters out to her. “Take a whiff, ma’am.”

  Dahlia sniffed. The odor of her father’s pipe tobacco brought back a rush of memories and a renewal of the grief over his death she thought she had overcome. She blinked in an effort to hold back her tears. “Oh, my. I had no idea.”

  Albert shifted from one foot to another. “We didn’t mean to upset you none, ma’am. But the question is, do you smoke a pipe?”

  Eyes wide, Dahlia’s hand clutched her throat as she stared at Albert. “Smoke a pipe? Certainly not. My father owned a lap desk in which he kept not only his writing materials, but a few small items and his pipe tobacco. I used that stationary for my correspondence with Mr. Price, but the tobacco I left at home in case my brother chooses to take up the habit.”

  Albert, a grin exploding on his face, smacked Charlie’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “See? I told you she don’t smoke, Charlie. I don’t care how many fine women you knew back home who lit up a pipe now and then, Nathan got himself a lady who don’t use tobacco. Can’t wait until you and the others pay up.”

  Charlie shot a glare at Albert. “No need you rubbing it in, Buzzard. And you better keep your fork away from my plate from now on, or you’ll find yourself jabbed with my fork, but good.”

  Dahlia looked between the two men. “Excuse me. What do you mean by ‘the others pay up’? Were there more than you two concerned about the tobacco scent on my letters? Surely, Mr. Price didn’t share our correspondence with everyone where he worked.”

  Charlie scowled and shook his head. “Nope! When it came to you, he didn’t tell us nothing good. He was as stubborn and tight-lipped as a mule with lockjaw that way. But he couldn’t hide the stink of that fine pipe tobaccy. I figured your letters smelled that way because you smoked.”

  A satisfied grin on his face, Albert strained to his full height. “Then there were those of us smart enough to know Nathan wouldn’t keep writing to a lady who smoked a pipe. But, Charlie, here, wouldn’t let it rest. So, we got us a pool going—those who thought you smoked against those who knew better.”

  “Knew better, my behind. Wasn’t nothing but a lucky guess.”

  Dahlia ignored Charlie’s grumbled retort. “I see.” Only, Dahlia did not comprehend how her letters could have led to such an event. She hoped her face did not reveal her dismay over her correspondence with Nathan prompting the men to gamble.

  Charlie heaved a sigh. “If you’d only knowed, I could have taken that tobaccy off your hands, seeing as it’s no sure thing your brother will take up the habit. Would’ve made losing this bet worthwhile.”

  Flummoxed, Dahlia blinked. She could hardly believe this conversation was taking place. She turned to Charlie, who appeared to be studying her face with a chastened expression.

  “We meant nothing by it, Mrs. Price. Just a little fun. You got to figure on us having something to talk about when we’re not working. Besides, this was all before Nathan got hurt. If we’d have knowed that was coming, I wouldn’t have harassed him about it.”

  Dahlia forced a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Brewster. I’m sure you meant no harm. And, thank you so much for bringing Mr. Price’s belongings to me. I’m sure, when he regains consciousness, he’ll be pleased to discover his things already here.”

  “Happy to do it.” Charlie slapped his floppy-brimmed hat on his head. “We probably best be going, Mrs. Price. You need help with anything, send word, and we’ll do what we can. Come on, Buzzard.”

  The two men turned and walked toward the back door.

  “One more thing, gentlemen.” She waited until they both twisted their necks and their gazes met hers. Both their faces wore what she interpreted to be expressions of apprehension. “Did my husband take part in this pool? If so, did he win or lose?”

  Another large grin spreading on his face, Albert spun on his feet to face her. “No, ma’am. He wouldn’t have nothing to do with it. Got right put out when he heard talk about it, too. Said you were a fine lady, and we had no business making sport at your expense. We had to make sure he was nowhere around when we discussed the merits of each side of the question.” He cleared his throat and sobered. “Ah…probably shouldn’t have admitted to that last part. I apologize, ma’am. Like Nathan said, you’re a right fine lady. Guess we caused enough trouble, so best we get going.”

  As she followed the two men and closed the door behind them, Dahlia allowed a smile to escape. Although initially uncomfortable that she had become a matter of speculation due to the tobacco scent clinging to her father’s stationary, she felt no offense over the situation. What truly mattered was, Nathan had refused to be drawn in. Instead, he had spoken against it and defended his future bride.

  The question that next popped in her mind, but which she chose not to ruminate on, was why had Herbert Price not brought his brother’s belongings to the house? Then again, considering his behavior at the end of the marriage ceremony, she decided to fe
el grateful it had been a pair of uninhibited old miners with a tendency to gamble that had shown up instead.

  Dahlia began to sort through the tow sack and trunk. As much as she worried doing so might be thought of as encroaching on her husband’s privacy, she very much wished to find a clean pair of socks to put on his feet.

  She sorted out his clothes—separating those she recognized as being clean from those that needed to be laundered—and set any books and containers aside uninspected. Once she repacked his trunk with his personal belongings that she would store until he regained consciousness, she tossed the dirty clothes in the wash room on top of the blankets. The obviously clean garments she carried to the chest of drawers, where she put them away.

  Nathan’s razor and soap mug she put on top of the chest next to the bowl and ewer. Shaving her husband would be a task for another day. The clean socks she found she put on his feet as soon as she had removed the bulk of the clutter from her kitchen floor.

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  Chapter 16

  ~o0o~

  D ahlia no sooner tugged the wool stockings on Nathan’s feet than she heard another knock. She began to suspect that she was receiving more company than if she had married at home and her family put together a wedding dinner. She opened the door to discover Royce Bainbridge, holding a covered basket, standing on her back porch. “Come in, Mr. Bainbridge.”

  Royce entered and set the basket on the table that Dahlia had cleared off just minutes earlier. “I came by to see how you are doing, Mrs. Price.” Hands on his hips, he gazed around the room. He paused at the sight of her food stuff stacked in one corner, and Nathan’s trunk topped with a mostly empty tow sack on top in another. “It appears your delivery from the mercantile arrived all right, as well as Nathan’s belongings from the boarding house. Charlie Brewster seemed very anxious to help Nathan with that task.”

  Dahlia smiled and nodded. “Yes. His friend, Mr. Collins, I believe his name is, came with him. They both wished to spend a few minutes with Nathan.” She declined to mention the other motive behind Charlie and Albert’s willingness to help—finding out who won the bet regarding her use of tobacco.

  Royce cleared his throat and gestured toward the basket. “I brought you something from the River Valley Inn for your supper, Mrs. Price. Truth be told, if Nathan had been in full use of his faculties, I would have invited both of you to join Mrs. Millard and me to celebrate. Since that is not an option, I brought a meal to you. I purchased the dinnerware and basket, as well as the food, so please, don’t worry about returning it.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Bainbridge. Especially after the brunch earlier, this is completely unexpected but much appreciated.”

  “Yes, well, I’ll make a point to treat you and Nathan to dinner at the hotel once he is back on his feet. In the meantime, do you have everything you need for now?”

  “I believe so. I’ll need to buy more coal or wood soon—especially after I wash my husband’s laundry. However, having met several of my neighbors today already, I’ll ask one of them where I can go to make arrangements to have more delivered. They plan to take turns stopping by every day to help me with my husband. I’ll be fine.”

  “Good. If something comes up and I can…”

  A loud pounding on the back door interrupted Royce. Dahlia glanced at the frown on Royce’s face as she started forward to answer. Before she took more than three steps, the door burst open and the knob slammed against the inside wall.

  Herbert Price, a disgruntled look on his mottled face, stepped into the room. “How come you didn’t answer the front door? You think I’m not good enough for you to let me in the front way?”

  Dahlia stopped her forward movement and stood in place, her hands grasping each other in front at her waist. “Good evening, Mr. Price. I didn’t hear anyone knocking on the front door. I’m keeping that room closed to conserve heat. Next time, come to the back door and wait until I answer before you enter.”

  “There will be no next time.” An enraged Royce Bainbridge, his face, mottled red, stepped between Dahlia and Herbert. “What do you think you’re doing, barging into the house like this?”

  Dahlia leaned around Royce far enough to watch Herbert’s facial expression turn to one of incredulity.

  “This is my brother’s house. I came to see him.”

  “I don’t know where you were raised that gave you the impression you have the right to just walk into someone’s house any time you wish, but you are not allowed to do it here.”

  As he swayed on his feet, the expression on Herbert’s face morphed into a scowl. “She didn’t answer the door when I knocked, and here I stood in for my brother so she could marry him. I want to see Nathan.”

  While Dahlia edged around the two men to close the door in order to conserve heat, Royce stepped closer to Herbert. “Let me remind you of a detail you have conveniently forgotten, Mr. Price. You stood in for your brother so Mrs. Price would marry him and take care of him, thus relieving you, as his brother, from shouldering the responsibility.”

  “Why should I have to take care of Nathan? He’s just my step-brother.”

  Dahlia cringed upon hearing the whine in Herbert’s voice.

  “He’s still your family. Another question. Where were you when help was needed to get this house ready and move him here? Also, when I stopped by the boarding house to see about gathering up his belongings to bring over here, you were nowhere to be found.”

  Herbert grinned. “My brother got married. Even though you wouldn’t let me kiss the bride, I was celebrating.” He dropped his smile. “I want to see my brother.”

  Royce stepped back and gestured in the direction of the bedroom. “He’s in there. I’ll give you a few minutes with him. I’ll wait here until you leave.”

  Dahlia stayed in the kitchen with Royce while Herbert entered the bedroom. Royce moved so he could watch what took place. While Dahlia busied herself restacking her kitchen supplies, she sent up a prayer of gratitude that she had not been alone in the house with Nathan when Herbert barged in.

  She stood and faced the two men as Herbert, visibly shaken, returned to the kitchen.

  Royce turned to her. “Mrs. Price, if I may have a moment alone with Herbert, please?”

  “Of course.” Dahlia rushed into the bedroom and pushed the door almost closed, relieved to escape being in the same room with her husband’s brother. Since neither Royce nor Herbert spoke in quiet tones, both of their voices filtered through the crack in the doorway.

  “Mr. Price, as much as we appreciate you standing in for your brother at the proxy wedding, now that we have Nathan moved to the house, you will stay away while he recovers. You will go nowhere near Mrs. Price or the rest of the families in married miners’ housing. Do you understand?”

  “We’re family. What if she invites me over?” Dahlia could hear Herbert’s disapproving tone in response to this particular order.

  “You will decline.”

  “I’ll what?”

  “You will say, ‘No, thank you’ to any invitation you receive. You will wait until you get word your brother has regained consciousness and he is up to receiving visitors before you come to visit. Do I make myself clear?”

  Herbert raised his voice. “He’s my brother.”

  “Mr. Price, I notice you call him your brother when you want something involving him, but you are quick to clarify he is really your stepbrother when it comes to accepting familial responsibility to help him.”

  “You can’t keep me from seeing my brother.”

  “I can and I will. Before there was ever a town of Jubilee Springs, my brother and I owned this land. I allowed Lance James to build his Silver Dollar Saloon and bring in his ladies for the convenience and recreation of the miners who work for me. If he doesn’t stay honest or maintain proper order in his establishment, he knows we will terminate his lease, and he will be forced to take his business elsewhere. Likewise, my brother and
I have turned the use of this part of our land over to the miners who live here, but ultimately, we are responsible for maintaining order.”

  “You’re not the law.”

  “I am on Prosperity Mine land. Once businesses started building up on the other side of the river, we decided against a company town. But, yes, we own, and ultimately control, everything on this side of the river except the strips of railroad land. If our employees don’t follow our rules, we kick them off. We’ll call in the county sheriff, if need be, but we will not allow you, or anyone else, to run rough-shod over us or anyone who works for us. That includes Mrs. Price.”

  “She tell you that—I was running over her?”

  “No. After watching you push your way into her house without her giving you permission to enter first, she didn’t need to. She’ll be busy taking care of Nathan and will have enough on her hands without her needing to deal with you. I want you nowhere near this woman. Only after I have been notified your brother has fully recovered his faculties and has given you permission to visit are you allowed anywhere in this neighborhood, including the streets and the yards. Do you understand me?”

  “Yeah.” Hebert’s answer sounded like he spoke it through clenched teeth.

  “Good. You defy me on this, you will be out of a job. Now, leave.”

  Dahlia listened as footsteps moving toward her back door sounded on the floor. Although she knew that conversation between Royce and Herbert was not meant for her ears, she had heard every word. She could not help but wonder if Lizett realized this man whom she seemed to idolize not only approved of the drinking, gambling, and prostitution that took place at the saloon on his property, but he and his brother had actively brought it in as a means of attracting and keeping miners.

  Then again, what was it to her? He and his brother could allow what they thought was beneficial on their land. Right now, he considered it best that Herbert Price stayed away from her. That, she could not fault.

  As soon as the door closed, Dahlia re-entered the kitchen in time to witness Royce shake his head and huffed out a breath.