Chapter 2 #2
“So, are you still writing to that other woman back east?” Michael asked as he spooned bean soup into his mouth.
Troy sighed. This was a bone of contention between them. “I am, but?—”
“But what?” Michael asked. “You can’t string two women along.” He looked across the fire at Lizzy, who was laughing at something Julie had said.
Troy’s gaze lingered on her, thinking of how she’d quickly figured out a counterweight system a few minutes ago to help level the weight of the heavier-than-usual elevator. Could a brain be beautiful? He suspected hers was.
“You have to stop sending that other woman letters,” Michael said.
“I have,” Troy said. Ending his correspondence with Emily had felt necessary almost as soon as he and Lizzy had started working together.
It had felt like he was being unfaithful with every letter.
Unfaithful to Lizzy, oddly, not to Emily, whom he was presumably courting by mail.
“In the last one, I said I didn’t think we were compatible and that we should stop writing to each other.
I wrote it plain as day. So hopefully that will be the end of the letters. ”
Michael watched him. “I can sense a but,” his brother said. “But what?”
“But I don’t think Emily pays much attention to what other people say or write,” Troy said. “She keeps writing to me as though nothing has changed between us. I don’t understand it. She keeps saying … things.”
“What things?” Michael asked.
Troy ate a spoonful of soup before replying, buying himself time to think.
Emily seemed like a nice enough woman. He’d enjoyed their brief correspondence and had vaguely wondered if she might be the right wife for him.
But they shared no common interests. She never commented on all the work plans he’d shared with her, and he suspected it was less rudeness on her part than a lack of understanding.
It took a special woman to put up with someone whose head was always down a mineshaft or whose hands were usually covered with oil from a new contraption.
His eyes drifted to that particular special woman, currently laughing at something Julie had said.
“What things has Emily been writing to you?” Michael asked.
“Only that she thinks it’s time we meet and things like that,” Troy said. “I’ve put a stop to it now. That letter I wrote her at the end of last month was the final one. It called everything off.”
Michael nodded. “Good. I would hate to think that you were being ungentlemanly.”
Troy rolled his eyes at his brother. “You’re not our father, Mike. You don’t have to teach me my manners.”
“Maybe not, but you sure do need reminding sometimes,” his brother said.
Troy elbowed him in the ribs playfully. “How are things down below in the mine?”
“The seam is holding up,” Michael said, which was his way of saying that they were finding enough ore-bearing rock to be able to continue.
“Good, then maybe McGregor will stop harassing poor Andy,” Troy said. “He’s looking put upon.”
“He’s looking like he’s carrying the world on his shoulders,” Michael corrected him. “Maybe we can fix that.”
“Lizzy suggested we get Kyle to get his old tintype camera out and let him take some pictures,” Troy said. “If he takes them and sends them, McGregor will be able to actually see what we’ve been doing here. Maybe then he can let up on Andy.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Michael said. “I just hope Jeff doesn’t bring more bad news when he comes back from San Antonio.”
That was right. Jeff was in town today. Troy had forgotten.
He had put a list together of things he needed.
He really hoped that Jeff had been able to find them all.
It would make such a difference to be building things out of proper materials.
Half the problems with the elevator were a result of not having the right tools.
After lunch, Troy and Lizzy went to her forge and began work on new fixtures for their rock-crushing machine.
For a long time, they sat in the shade of an elm and drew mechanical patterns in the sand with a stick.
One of the wonderful things about Lizzy was how easy it was to be quiet around her, not needing to prattle constantly.
Then again, it was equally wonderful whenever they did chat.
“If you do it like that, it will snap,” Lizzy said, leaning in and erasing part of Troy’s latest suggestion with her hand. “It will never handle the pressure.”
“Rubbish,” Troy said. “It will do just fine. You need to have more faith in your iron-casting skills.”
“I have plenty of faith in my metallurgy skills,” she retorted, frowning at him.
“So when I say doing it like that won’t work, I mean it won’t work.
Open your ears. Is there a lot of fluff or something in them?
” Lizzy tweaked his earlobe in her thumb and forefinger, peering at him as though trying to see through his head.
“Hey!” Troy batted her hand away.
Their fingers touched, and the usual frisson of delight shot through him at the touch, at her smile, at the look in her eyes.
He was very definitely smitten, he had to admit to himself.
But he wanted to make sure that the connection he had begun with Emily was severed before he dared go any further down this new road.
Also, Lizzy had had such a hard time of it lately.
He wanted to give her a chance to settle in, to get herself on an even keel, as his father always said, being an avid sailor.
Also, there was his continued fear that he might lose her friendship if it didn’t work out between them.
He desperately didn’t want to do anything that could possibly jeopardize that.
“Hey, is that the cart?” Lizzy asked, peering off down the slope to the camp.
Troy looked where she was looking and nodded. “Who is that with Jeff?”
Where there should only be one person in the driver’s seat, there were two.
“Maybe he met a lady in town,” Lizzy said.
“And brought her back with him already?” Troy asked. “Seems fast even for a shotgun wedding.”
She shrugged. “Let’s go see if he has all those supplies we asked for.”
They hurried from the forge and reached the campfire just as the cart drew to a halt. Jeff, Andrew’s brother, slid from the driver’s seat, blond hair peeking out from under his broad-brimmed hat.
He held out a hand to a woman, who took it and climbed down in a dainty fashion. She was blonde and slim, wearing a light blue dress and white gloves. She looked prim and proper, every bit a lady.
“Who is she?” Lizzy whispered to Troy.
Before he could answer, Jeff turned to them. “Actually, she’s here for you, Troy. I’d like to introduce you to Miss Emily Gardener, all the way from New England.”
Troy’s jaw dropped slightly. What? How was that possible?
“Emily Gardener? How—why—did—I …” Troy stammered, aghast. “What are you doing here?”
She smiled at him. “I came to meet you, of course.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shock he felt mirrored on Lizzy’s face.