When the wagon arrived in Coal Valley, the new men were taken directly to their housing. From there, they had the option of bunking in with the miners that would let them, or they could stay in the new housing, sleeping rough. Billy Hamilton chose to sleep rough because he liked the idea of needing to depend on Miss Thatcher to help him be more comfortable in his new surroundings. Perhaps she would find it in her heart to fix a weary traveler a home-cooked meal, and then possibly, he would get away with a kiss on the hand...
"Lemonade?"
Billy looked up and there she was, looking even more beautiful than her picture in the paper. The key to his quest. The new object of his affection. With skin like alabaster, curls that fell in cascades around her face, and a voice worthy of the angels in heaven.
He gave her his best and most charming smile. "Why, yes, Miss, I would dearly love some lemonade. One does get parched out on the open road," he said, doing his best to sound like the fine gentlemen he was sure she was accustomed to hearing.
Elizabeth frowned a little. She couldn't quite tell if this new miner was flirting with her or just putting on airs. In any case, she thought she ought to be polite. "I'm Miss Thatcher, I'm the schoolteacher in Coal Valley."
Billy took off his brown felt hat and made a slow and deep bow. "Billy Hamilton, at your service, Miss Thatcher."
Elizabeth smiled. "Hamilton. That's where I grew up."
Billy gave her a look of utter and complete surprise. "Well, what do you know? It's like a sign, isn't it?"
Frowning again, Elizabeth said, "I'm sorry?"
Moving closer, Billy said softly, "A sign from the gods, Miss Thatcher. We have a connection."
Now she knew he was flirting with her and Elizabeth didn't much like it. "I would call it a coincidence, Mr. Hamilton," she said curtly. She handed him his lemonade and turned her back on him.
Billy frowned. It always surprised him when women didn't find him as charming as he found himself. He narrowed his eyes a little. So, Miss Elizabeth Thatcher is going to be a tough nut to crack. That's fine. I like a challenge.
"And how does a lovely rose like you end up out here among the tumbleweeds, Miss Thatcher?" Billy said, undefeated, even though he was now speaking to the back of Elizabeth's head.
Miss Thatcher turned as he had hoped, and though her initial look was one of some irritation, her eyes suddenly went soft and the sweetest smile overtook her face. Billy felt himself gaining ground, but strangely, it dawned on him that she wasn't looking at him. She seemed to be gazing about a foot over his head.
Turning, Billy was faced with the shock of the red serge, never a color he liked to see, and especially not when it was less than five inches away from his nose. His eyes moved slowly upward, and still further upward, until he found a face. Square-jawed, grim-lipped, with eyes like ice, and most alarmingly, with the addition of the campaign hat that sat low over his brow, the man stood nearly a foot taller than Billy.
"Seems the lady isn't interested in conversation," the Mountie said, and his voice matched the coldness of his eyes.
Billy stepped backward and nearly trampled Miss Thatcher's feet. He looked at her, intending to make a grand apology, and he could see that she was on the verge of laughter.
This had not gone nearly the way Billy Hamilton had hoped.
Billy thought he'd better assert himself, or Miss Thatcher might think he wasn't equal to this bullying Mountie. "Well, Constable," Billy said, straightening up in a futile search to find another inch of height over his usual five-foot-ten, "It seems the better part of valor dictates that we should let the lady decide." After narrowing his eyes at Nathan, he turned to Elizabeth and tilted his head, raising his eyebrows over his most humble and captivating smile.
She smiled back and for a moment Billy thought his elegant speech might have turned the tide. But then she walked right past him and put her arm through the Mountie's and leaned up to kiss his cheek.
"The lady has already decided, Mr. Hamilton," Elizabeth said sweetly. And with that, she and the Mountie walked away, arm in arm. And if he wasn't mistaken, it looked like they might be laughing.
"I have to say, I'm surprised you're going through with this, Mrs. Stanton," Gowen said from behind his desk.
"Trust me, that makes two of us," Abigail said, smiling.
"All that's left is for you to sign at the bottom of the page. Then the café is yours, and your row house is mine." Abigail signed without hesitating and they exchanged deeds. Henry pushed his chair back and stood, putting his hand out. "Congratulations," he said, smiling.
Abigail shook it. "Thank you," she said, standing as well. She turned, exhilarated, and walked toward the door.
Henry was still standing, and Abigail was surprised when he started speaking again.
"You widows put me through hell over those row houses," Henry said coldly, putting his hands in his pockets. "I'm glad to finally get one back."
Abigail took a deep breath and forced a smile back at him.
Henry narrowed his eyes. "Just for the record, this town will never support a café," he said, his voice nearly a growl.
"How do you know?" Abigail asked, her heart beating faster.
"Well, I don't know much, but I know business. And if Coal Valley were ready for another eatery, I would have opened it myself."
Abigail looked back at him and steeled her own eyes.
Henry had one last thing to say. "But because I'm not as cold-hearted as some would paint me, I just want you to know that I'll be willing to take the café off of your hands when it fails." An ugly smile started at the corners of his mouth. "At twenty-five cents on the dollar."
Abigail took a deep breath and stood a little taller. She reminded herself that Henry Gowen couldn't call the shots anymore because he had absolutely no ownership in her café. It was all hers now, and she would be able to do whatever she wanted without his interference. She turned and walked back toward him, her mouth in a grim line.
"It must gall you that there are starting to be buildings and businesses in this town that don't belong to you, Mr. Gowen. But I suggest you get used to it. Coal Valley is growing and it will do it with or without you."
For a long moment, they held each other's eyes, and then Henry sat down.
"Good day, Mrs. Stanton," he said roughly, bending his head to his ledgers.
Abigail stood there for a moment longer, smiling, because she wanted him to know that she was no longer afraid of him. But she also stood there a little longer because of something else.
It felt very good to get the last word with Henry Gowen.
"Good day, Mr. Gowen."
Jack Thornton really didn't like being outsmarted, and he had to admit that Billy Baxter had done it.
It had taken some detective work, but after following his trail to Buxton, Jack had discovered that Baxter had taken a job with the Pacific North West Mining Company and was on his way to, of all places, Coal Valley.
Jack had thought about sending a wire to Nathan letting him know that he was on his way, but there was a line at the telegraph office and he didn't want Billy to get too much of a head start. Jack thought Baxter was probably arriving right about now, and with Sergeant at a run, even with rests, he could get there in a couple of hours.
Smiling, Jack thought that he must have been destined to see Coal Valley after all. He had to admit it would be interesting to compare Grant's life to his own after over three months' experience in their new postings. Cape Fullerton had been everything Jack had hoped it would be; exciting, dangerous, fast-paced and satisfying. He'd already escorted a number of rumrunners to prison, and had established himself as an up-and-coming man to watch at the NWMP in the busy harbor town.
There was one man in Cape Fullerton who wasn't overly pleased with him, however, and that was the man who ran Mr. William Thatcher's shipping business there. He had expected Jack to nab Billy Baxter after finding out he'd stolen a significant number of bottles from his crates. Jack had assured him that he'd catch him, and then he'd gone and lost him. Now he had to make it right. It seemed that Mr. Thatcher was one of those "benefactors" that Superintendent Martin had been talking about, and Jack had already been called on the carpet to have it made clear that Baxter was one man who could not be allowed to get away.
Another hour or so, and he would be there. Jack already knew where the nearest prisoner wagon could be procured, and he had it all planned out. He would arrest Billy Baxter, have him brought back to Cape Fullerton for trial, and then Jack would put in for his transfer to the Northwest Territories. There was always something more exciting around the corner, and Jack was just about ready for something new.
"You seem to be forever rescuing me, Constable," Elizabeth said, smiling up at Nathan as they walked toward the new Library. They were planning to get some cleaning and painting done today after Nathan changed out of his red serge in his office.
Nathan laughed. "I wouldn't really call that a rescue. He didn't seem to have much life in him after he saw the uniform." Laughing again, Nathan said, "And when you kissed me, the poor man deflated like a balloon."
Elizabeth laughed too. "I must say I enjoyed that. Billy Hamilton reminds me of every conceited dandy I ever met in Hamilton. They're so in love with themselves they have no capacity left in them to love others." She smiled up at Nathan. "I will say that when I was a little younger and more naïve, I would have fallen for that. But now that I know you..." Elizabeth stopped and put her hand on his cheek, "...I know what real love looks like."
Nathan breathed deeply, suddenly so filled with deep affection for her that he felt he had to kiss her. But they were on the boardwalk outside the Mercantile with him in his uniform, and there were people everywhere. "I'm going to tell you how much that means to me in just a little while, when we're supposed to be cleaning..."
Elizabeth laughed softly. "I'll look forward to it..."
They started walking again and Nathan went into the Mountie office, while Elizabeth went to the Library. They had pulled the boards off of the inside of the door and now it could be accessed from the main street. They were still in the process of clearing things out of it, but Elizabeth had borrowed buckets and cleaning solution from Tom in the saloon, and they were ready to begin in earnest.
Elizabeth decided to start with a good sweep, and she pulled out the broom, beginning with the outside of the windows and pulling down cobwebs from the roof over the boardwalk.
She turned and looked up the street, hearing the stagecoach arriving. It was always exciting to see the people getting off and to find out who they were. There were new residents arriving all the time in Coal Valley, and often relatives visiting those who lived in the town.
Elizabeth leaned on her broom and watched as a woman emerged from the coach, dressed head-to-toe in deep red brocade and velvet. To be honest, her clothing reminded Elizabeth of a costume she'd seen Viola wear in a school production of Twelfth Night, complete with pantaloons. On her head, the woman wore a bohemian beret, also red velvet, which was canted at the perfect angle to offset the lush deep blonde curls that fell beyond her shoulders. She was quite beautiful, and there was something about her that made it difficult to turn away.
Without waiting for the coachman to throw down her bag, the woman climbed up herself to retrieve it, and then jumped down to the ground, causing a small cloud of dust to rise around her pant legs.
Elizabeth was transfixed. She'd heard about women like this, and of course she'd seen quite a few of them in Hamilton. Her mother called them "loose women," and refused to let Elizabeth within ten feet of them. According to Grace, they flaunted every custom, broke every rule and seemed to revel in it. Grace Thatcher thought they were a harbinger to the end of civility.
While she stared, the woman turned to her.
"Excuse me, is this Coal Valley?" she asked.
"Yes, it is," Elizabeth said, walking toward her.
"Where's the... rest of it?" the woman asked, looking around.
Elizabeth laughed, enjoying the dramatic flair of this stranger. "I'm afraid you're looking at it."
"Oh, well," she said, looking slightly alarmed. Then she raised her eyebrows and smiled quite the biggest smile Elizabeth had ever seen. The woman had a lot of really beautiful teeth, and her smile practically lit up the boardwalk. "Charming!"
"It can be." Elizabeth wiped her hand on her apron and then put it out and smiled. "I'm Elizabeth Thatcher."
"Rosemary LeVeaux," the woman said, shaking Elizabeth's hand and adding a very dramatic curtsey. Her voice was as smooth as silk.
"Pleasure to meet you, Miss LeVeaux," Elizabeth said, "And what brings you here?"
Rosemary sighed in the way Elizabeth had heard romantic heroines do on stage. "My fiancée," she said, using the French pronunciation and raising her chin regally.
"Oh! Congratulations," Elizabeth said happily. "Perhaps I know him? Is he one of the miners?"
Rosemary laughed loudly, "Lord, no," she said. She picked a piece of lint off of her sleeve. "Actually..." she said, leaning in conspiratorially. "He's the Mountie in Coal Valley."
The emotions that crossed Elizabeth's face in the seconds following would have rivaled Rosemary's acting skills. Disbelief, confusion, hurt, anger; all melding into a softly uttered, "Oh."
At that moment, Nathan stepped out of his office, dressed in his suspenders and casual trousers. He saw Elizabeth talking to a woman he'd never seen before and he walked over to them. "Hello," he said, casually standing next to Elizabeth, who was snapped out of her shocked reverie.
Elizabeth gave Nathan a look that confused him. Sweet, but with an undercurrent of suspicion and nearly... anger? "Perhaps you know Miss Rosemary LeVeaux?" she said, looking up and searching his eyes.
"Not had the pleasure," he said, his brow furrowing at Elizabeth. He turned to Rosemary and tried to tip his hat, again realizing he wasn't in uniform. "Nathan Grant. Nice to meet you, Miss LeVeaux."
Rosemary curtseyed again, "And you, Mr. Grant."
Nathan smiled. "Actually, it's Constable. I'm the Mountie here in Coal Valley."
Rosemary frowned. "No, you're not."
Nathan laughed and nodded. "Well, then, I'd better get myself out of that office," he said, pointing across the street.
"You're not Jack," Rosemary said, confused.
As fate would have it, at that moment, Jack Thornton rounded the corner in full red serge on Sergeant.
Rosemary's smile was incandescent as she looked up at him. "That's Jack."
Jack Thornton couldn't have been more surprised if he'd fallen right off the face of the earth. He squinted into the sunlight down the street, his mouth open.
"Rosie?"