Chapter 1 – The best biscuits any of us have ever tasted
1909
"How wonderful to finally meet you, Mr. Gowen. Welcome to our home."
Henry Gowen removed his hat and answered Abigail's gracious welcome with a slight bow of his head. "Much obliged, Mrs. Stanton. Supper smells wonderful," he said with a charming smile.
"Best biscuits you'll ever have, I guarantee it," Noah boasted. Her husband was beaming with pride beside her, one arm slung affectionately around her waist. The two men shook hands and Noah waved his boss forward to the dining area where their son Peter was standing, waiting for his turn to offer a polite greeting.
So this was Henry Gowen. Abigail couldn't help peering over to the table as she spooned soup and vegetables from the still-hot cast iron into serving dishes. A greater contrast she thought she'd never see. Her husband was open and loud where Mr. Gowen was wary and measured, uncomfortable in his dinner suit where Mr. Gowen's was clearly a practiced skin. Noah's hair was long and dark, often falling into his eyes – a problem the other man's slick salt-and-pepper coiffure likely never posed. But though Noah's 6'1" frame should have towered over his superior's, Mr. Gowen's extravagant trappings and straightforward demeanor belied his stature. Had Noah not told her that the man had been transferred to Coal Valley rather abruptly, she still could have easily guessed as much as soon as she met him.
When the main course had been served, Abigail finally took her place at the side of the table, across from her fifteen-year-old son. Another contradiction still, as Peter had nothing of his father's boisterous disposition. Sweet and reserved, Peter rarely sought attention – in fact he often shied away from it. This was almost certainly a consequence of having so much already doled on him as an only child. He was generally quite content to continue letting his father's presence overtake the room, preferring instead to observe, but only those who didn't know him well mistook this for frailty. Peter could be quite strong-willed when he wanted, in his own calm and deliberate way.
They joined hands to say grace, Noah's calloused and never-quite-clean hand in her right and the unfamiliar warmth of Mr. Gowen's in her left. "For what we are about to receive may the Lord make us truly thankful, Amen," Noah intoned. As they lifted their heads, he added, "And Mr. Gowen, we are thankful also for the blessings you and the Company have given to our family. We're honored to welcome you here today."
Mr. Gowen smiled as they separated and turned to their food. "The honor is all mine. I heard nothing but praise for your work when they briefed me on Coal Valley operations, and quickly saw the reason for it myself. You'll be a fine superintendent."
There was a smooth polish in the words, but his body was stiff with unease. The small-town intimacy of the dinner and the prayer were strange for him, she realized; Noah had told her also that he had come with no family.
"Mr. Gowen, I understand you've moved into the former director's place down the road." (She caught him stifling a smirk at the description, which she imagined to mean "Isn't everything here down the road?") "I've never been inside myself, but it looks quite impressive from the outside. Have you settled in well?"
"I have, thank you. It's more than enough room for me, and I've been able to leave it pretty much as Mr. Chambers and his wife had it. All very serviceable, though I do miss indoor plumbing," he answered in a wry tone, and even Peter chuckled.
"Well, I hope you get a chance to make it your own too," Abigail smiled. "It will start to feel more like home with some personal touches. I know we don't have many shops or expensive wares here, but there are talented crafters hiding all over this town."
"Talented cooks, at least," he said. "Your husband did not exaggerate about your skills in the kitchen, Mrs. Stanton."
Noah's fork clattered excitedly on his plate. "I'm always telling her she ought to sell some of her baking to the unmarried miners. But then I change my mind just as quickly, because I'd probably see less of it for myself," he joked.
Abigail blushed at the compliments, eagerly turning the conversation back to the new arrival instead.
"Noah and I moved here a little over twelve years ago now, from another coal mining town out east. I imagine coming from Hamilton is a bit more of an adjustment," she said warmly.
Mr. Gowen grinned, making the kinds of quiet sounds and movements that indicated a more tactful response would be forthcoming. "I can't say it hasn't been a significant change. For one, Pacific Northwest has a greater presence here, and with that comes a different level of responsibility. I hope Mayor Ramsey and I can build up a good relationship for the good of the town."
"I'm certain you will," Noah cut in. "This town lives and dies on coal and Silas knows it. If the miners are happy and the mine does well, then Coal Valley does too."
The men segued into discussions about mine operations as Abigail ruminated on how Mr. Gowen had sidestepped any personal information in answering the questions. Maybe his whole life in Hamilton had been the company. It wasn't hard to believe: she'd only just gotten a taste of Noah's new responsibilities in the past week and already it seemed that managing the mine created a different type of mental and physical exhaustion for him at the end of the day. In Hamilton, Noah had said, Mr. Gowen had overseen parts of operations across the region, though she had forgotten exactly which.
Across from her, Peter was looking modestly down at his plate, his dimples visible. She tuned back in to the conversation and realized her husband had been emphatically touting their son as a future mine foreman himself.
"We're hoping he can get started when school goes on break next month. He's already gotten further than I did – very bright – but he's more than working age now."
"I'm sure we can find a place for you, Peter," Mr. Gowen said with a short nod of acknowledgment to the boy.
"It'll be real fine, getting to work beside my boy," Noah continued. "I worked in the Lee mine with my pa 'til he went. It was a privilege learning from him every day, spending that time."
Abigail's face tightened, but she said nothing. Mr. Gowen had also offered no response, simply listening politely. They took another few bites in silence, until Mr. Gowen cleared his throat and asked Peter what he was learning from his teacher – a way, she assumed, to check up on the company's investment in the school. Noah also filled his boss in on local happenings from earlier in the year, since Mr. Gowen was preparing to fill the vacant seat previously held by Josiah Chambers on the town council. But despite a few more polite questions, she knew no more about Henry Gowen by the time he'd finished his slice of cake than she had when he'd first entered her home.
They exchanged their closing pleasantries by the door, all four of them, but she lingered there in the space watching their enigmatic new acquaintance walk away, holding his hat against the dusty frontier breeze. It was rare to come across someone so guarded in Coal Valley. But, she reminded herself, Mr. Gowen was not from Coal Valley, and there was clearly something making him reluctant to call it home.
"Something wrong, sweetheart?"
Abigail reluctantly tore her gaze from the retreating figure and eased the door closed, still absorbed in thought. When she didn't answer, Noah came over and kissed the top of her head.
"You look so worried. I thought it went extremely well," Noah reassured her.
"I suppose. I just hope more people will make him feel welcome here. He's very important to the town, and he needs to feel connected to it. And I do still remember what it was like to come here, not knowing anyone."
"And look, now you're so entrenched here, you've appointed yourself the welcoming committee. Mayor Stanton!" he said with a grand wave of his arm. She laughed, and he rubbed her shoulder soothingly. "You're overthinking it. A couple nights at the saloon and he'll be fine."
She acquiesced and gave her husband a kiss on the cheek as they parted ways, he up the stairs where Peter had already disappeared, and she to clear away the remnants of their meal. Closing her eyes, she let her thoughts and hands disappear into the hot soapy water of the dish pan.
