The Second Chance Brides Collection, page 42
No tears on her pale, punch-covered cheeks. She simply raised her chin and said in a resigned manner, “I think the point has been exceedingly well made.”
He stepped back and allowed her to leave ahead of him, which she did with the dignity of a queen in the silence after the skirmish.
Lukas pulled a red kerchief out of his back pocket and handed it to her. “I’m very sorry.”
She closed her eyes and made the smallest shake of her head. “I knew better than to come.” Then she opened her eyes and dabbed at the already drying mess on her face and neck.
“Juliana—”
“Please. Let’s just catch the next train.”
“Yes.” Trains ran often to keep crews working, freight and supplies moving, twenty-four hours a day. At the least, they could find a spot on a platform out of the wind if there wasn’t a passenger car. Her position afforded privileges with the Milwaukee Railroad. Under the circumstances, any one of the conductors would help her home the few miles between camps. But Lukas felt both the responsibility and the desire to see her all the way home.
“I suppose there’s no saving this.” She fluttered her hands in front of her body and then handed him back the soiled kerchief.
“No, I wouldn’t think so. But I’ll replace it. You shouldn’t spend the money you’ve worked so hard to save.” He stuck his hands in his pockets.
“I can’t replace what it meant to me, but thank you for the offer.”
“Isn’t it just a blouse? Surely—”
The lack of emotion in her face belied the intensity of her words. “This, Mr. Filips, is not just a blouse. I had my first kiss and married my husband wearing it.” Pink crept into her cheeks, barely perceptible in the fast-coming dark. Mountain shadows had long since blocked the setting sun, though the sky still held a glow, turning high, thin clouds peach and gold.
“I’m truly sorry for my part in destroying your outfit.” He hung his head. “My intention was to defend your honor, not hurt and humiliate you.”
“I know.” She gave him her full attention, caramel-brown eyes sticking to his soul. “This was all my fault. I knew better. But now you know why I keep to myself.” She touched the missing lace and loosely hanging bodice. “Also, now you know why I’m grateful you travel with me.” She shivered. “What if that man had caught me alone? What if he’d been a merciless Montenegrin?”
“A what?” What did she have against Montenegrins?
“Never mind. I shouldn’t have said that.” She turned away and watched the track for the train as if she could will it there faster.
“Please share why you feel Montenegrins are merciless.”
She remained quiet, only shaking her head, refusing to speak further.
Someone had hurt her terribly. “There are good and bad people everywhere, Juliana.”
“And there are some I choose to avoid.” She folded her arms. “Press me further and you’ll be one of them.”
“Could you consider forgiving whatever happened?”
She gave him a glacial glare. “I’ll see myself home.”
He lifted his hands in surrender. “No. I’ll not press.”
She nodded as the train came through the tunnel. “Thank you. Some things should be left alone and in the past.”
How could he find out more if she wouldn’t talk about it? Once they sidetracked and turned the train, Adair, on Loop Creek, would be two stops and a few minutes. He had a very short time to smooth over the strain between them.
“Will you bake tonight?”
“Once I clean up.”
“Is there some way I can help ease the burden?”
“You want to help me bake? You know your way around a kitchen?” She arched a brow. “You really don’t strike me as kitchen help.”
“Well, I’m not such good help in the kitchen, but I will do anything to make this day end better for you.”
The stress on her face relaxed into bemusement. “In all this time, not one man has offered to help me other than get me to the train. And that has been because the station master requires it of the freightman in order to deliver the bread on time. The other bakers have husbands or, well, they have someone.” She tipped her head as she thought about his offer. “Would you consider moving bags of flour for me while I clean up?”
“Juliana, I will do whatever you need.”
“Thank you, I accept your offer.” The train slid into the East Portal stop. Juliana took a second glance at Lukas. “You know they weigh up to fifty pounds each, right?”
“Not as much as your handcart when it’s full, yes?” He smiled. “I think I can manage.”
She boarded the train and sat in the front row, pulling her skirt aside so Lukas could join her on the bench of the very nearly empty passenger car.
Ah, progress. Without words, she’d invited him to take the place beside her that he’d wanted from the moment he’d caught sight of Juliana Hayes. But if she found out he was Montenegrin, would she really disassociate? Surely she’d know him well enough to overlook such a blanket prejudice. He sat, mulling over options.
By the time they’d reached Adair, she’d rewashed her sticky hair and changed, and he had moved three large bags of flour from the storage shed to her work space, Lukas had decided not to reveal his origins. At least not until Juliana and he grew closer. For the rest of the time God graced him with the responsibility to protect her, Lukas would find a way to build her trust through acts of kindness. Then he would tell her and overcome her bias because she would have his constant examples of goodwill. He would win her heart as well. But first he needed to find out why she distrusted his people.
Chapter 5
Early August
What do you know about the Widow Hayes?” Lukas asked Conductor Kelly while he waited for her to arrive at the platform. He’d asked around where he dared the last few weeks, but no one seemed to know much about her. She kept to herself except to deliver the required bread rations and the disastrous dance. But the rides with her had been pleasant, the conversation kept to general topics. Lukas wanted to know her, truly know this woman. “How long has she been alone?”
“I ain’t know’d her that long, sorry.” He shrugged. “I been here ‘bout a year. You could count it like dog years compared to most in this here valley.” He laughed at his own joke. “She been widowed all that time, I figure. Weren’t wearin’ widow’s weeds when I came.” He looked at his watch, then in the direction of Juliana’s cabin and brick ovens, and shook his head. “If’n she don’t show up right quick, we gonna have to leave her to the next train.” He shook his head again. “Hate to do it to a good woman. But I can’t risk a pay cut. That ain’t gonna bode well with the company when she misses the shift change.”
“I’ll see what’s keeping her.”
“Three minutes and I blow the whistle.” He went to close a freight car door on his way to inspect for departure.
Lukas jumped off the train, jogged to the dirt path leading away from the platform to see down the direction she should be coming from.
She struggled with a handcart to push her load up the last small incline, brown skirt hem dragging in the rocks as she leaned hard into the steel handle.
Why wasn’t anyone helping her? He ran the hundred yards to help. “Here, let me.”
“The path is just rough here.” But she sidestepped out of the way and used the apron corner to wipe her brow. The sun rose early and hot, getting hotter and the air drier by the hour.
“We have about two minutes to get you and your cargo aboard.” He took off at a clip with her right behind. “Karl, Simon, lend a hand!” he called out as he reached the front of the train. The two gave him less guff than the others as a general rule. He assumed it might have something to do with having wives. A woman settled a man. He glanced at Juliana. He wanted to be settled by her. Jonesy was right. He could get in line behind a couple hundred others vying for her attention. But none of them had daily access to build a relationship like he did.
The men jumped to the stairs at their foreman’s command, Karl on the bottom step and Simon at the doorway, grabbing the first basket of ten fat, nourishing loaves and passing it back to another as the whistle blew for departure. The men moved the other baskets on board as the widow shoved her cart out of the way. Then the train’s wheels budged and rolled forward until they had to run alongside.
Lukas seized the handle, swept an arm out, and swung the surprised widow, skirt billowing like a sail, onto the step with him, pulling her in close to his body.
The train bumped heavily on the track heading into a turn. He instinctively pulled her tighter against his chest—purely to protect her from the jostling train—but he had to fight the desire to lower his head and taste her lips. The little rusty flame sparking in her heated eyes tempted him so much he had to look away or he’d blow the plan he’d painstakingly thought through. She hadn’t given him the chance to look that deeply into her eyes, not even when she’d begrudged him a dance just for show. He more than liked this perspective. With patience, his plan would open her heart. Act rashly, and he’d have as much chance as the hundreds she’d already rebuffed.
“You could have dropped me.” Juliana’s gaze slid past his shoulder and watched the track behind them fall away faster as she clutched his shirt.
“Never.” He inhaled the scent of rosewater, honey, and fresh bread that emanated from Juliana. The scent that clung so satisfying and welcoming to a man. The scent of home. “You will always be safe with me.”
She pushed back with shaky hands when the train moved off the curve and onto a straightaway, but stopped at his words and whispered, “Until you aren’t here just like—” She frowned, dousing the fire in her eyes. “Never mind.”
“I will be here for you.” Lukas moved his arm away before she could push again, settling his hand in the small of her back to protect her from losing her balance as she climbed the last two steps. She looked a bit rattled the way she stood instead of sitting. He didn’t know whether from their acrobatics or that the baskets all ended up on the left bench so only one space for the two of them remained. Or could she be feeling a little like him, shaken from their closeness a moment ago?
“Way to go, Foreman! The next camp won’t miss their grub.”
“Shoulda been a trapeze artist,” Rowdy joked, instigating laughter around him as he had instigated the Scot at the party.
“Already feels like a three-ring circus here to me with you clowns,” Lukas shot back, raising the level of laughter all the more, but this time directed at Rowdy.
Karl clapped him on the shoulder. “Where’s Harry English and his camera? That’d a made the front page as downright heroic.”
“Wouldn’t have had a picture without you boys.” He thanked Karl and Simon. “It’s all in the teamwork.” Then Lukas sat beside Juliana.
He watched as she scooted away as far as possible on the short bench without making it noticeable to those behind them and clasped her hands in her lap. With his size, she didn’t have much room to move. But his closeness must have done something to her.
“That’s good,” she said, not looking him straight in the eyes. “The way you build up your men.”
“Always give credit where credit is due. My father taught me that. A man will give his best when it’s appreciated.” As he brushed the dirt from the cart and the train off his hands, he said, “Now tell me, please, why you had no help today.”
Her chin turned slowly, until their eyes met. “You don’t know?”
“I should know?”
Juliana looked confused. “You really don’t?”
“I don’t.”
“Oh.” She glanced away and then back at him. As if not wanting the rest to hear, she leaned in toward his ear. “You remember Jacques? The baggage man working the Adair depot?”
“Yes?”
“He decided to take another job down the line as a firefighter. The pay is pretty good, I hear.”
“Well that’s not uncommon. The men move around as needed.”
“I know, but now they can’t fill this one at Adair.”
“Really?” He raised his brows. “Why?”
“The men are all afraid of you after, well, after the way you knocked down the brute at the dance. Jacques was there, and after he’d pestered me for a date, he figured you’d come for him next. When the new jobs posted…” She shrugged, the rest understood.
“Ah, I see.” He grinned. “So they don’t want to be seen bothering you in order to avoid tangling with me.”
She swallowed and looked away. “You’re the problem. No one wants to come near me now.”
“I’m the problem? Seems I’m the solution. Unless you can make it to the departure on time, in addition to making sure you are safe on the train, I need to get you to the train.”
She tucked a few strands of loose hair up into her scarf. “I don’t know how you want to handle it. But I can’t bake any faster than I already do. My workload is growing with the firefighters coming in for the spot fires.”
He thought for a few minutes. “If you can be ready, the train is here long enough for me to get you and the cart up the path.”
“I can be ready.” She slumped against the seat, seeming defeated. The largest publicly visible movement she’d made since they’d met. “I hate asking for help, but with so many loaves to deliver each day, I can’t do it myself.”
She wasn’t a small woman, reed thin with a waist as tiny as a wasp like the corseted socialites he’d met. Healthy and shapely from the physical demands of baking and living in these harsh mountains, but small, relative to his size. She had strong arms and shoulders, even for a woman of average height. Lukas admired Juliana’s tenacity and strength—and the beauty of how that looked all put together along the length of her bare arms, thanks to the summer heat and her baking position. She wore short sleeves and calf-length skirts, making it hard for him to look away. But a wooden handcart lined with steel meant for lighter trips in the mines, plus the load that overflowed the cart’s bucket with each loaf weighing two pounds, landed a tad above the top of her abilities. Grown men felt the weight of that equipment.
“I’ll come, before the start of my shift each day, for as long as you need me.”
She looked up. “The company added Sundays to help with the fire crews. I’m to provide extra loaves each day of the week and a full order on Sunday as well. You realize that may be the rest of the summer.”
His lips turned up slowly. “I hope so, Juliana. I told you I will be here for you.”
She searched his face. “I believe you.” She blushed. Then she added, “With the extra work, I might be able to leave sooner than I’d planned.”
“Sooner?” His stomach coiled.
“Yes.” She glowed with anticipation. “Maybe as much as a few weeks.”
He needed more time. As much time as possible before she left him to a cruel winter without her. Time to win her promise to wait for him.
“If this keeps up, and the fires stay way down the line, I’m thinking the first of September.” Her eyes lit up with joy. “Won’t that be wonderful? And you won’t have to ride with me anymore.”
How should he answer that? She didn’t know the conductor told him he could ease up—a conversation Lukas requested be kept between them, earning him an elbow in the ribs from the older man. He’d said, “I’d keep that gal lassoed myself, if I was yous.”
“Juliana, I like our rides.” He couldn’t quite meet her eyes or she’d see the deep emotions stirring. “I hope you’ll change your mind and stay. I’ll miss you when you go.”
Chapter 6
Early morning
August 20, 1910
Lukas took the worn envelope from his box at the Rowland Depot. For a moment, he couldn’t do more than stare at the handwriting. It felt like ages since he’d stood on home soil. A year working as a translator at Ellis Island, then he’d worked his way west, always sending funds home to help support the estate.
He jumped on board, greeting the conductor. “It’s going to be a good day, Kelly.”
“Did ya see all those boys headin’ home all week? They’re lettin’ a few thousand off fire duty. Yep, gonna be a good day.”
Lukas closed his eyes and leaned his head against the seat back for a moment and thought of Montenegro. He remembered what the manor looked like, the massive stone fireplace, and the velvet trappings around the windows pulled back to allow guests to walk in the gardens during parties. The way it looked when he was a child, full of people and the wonders of the world waiting for him. Though he’d held off as much loss as he could, working the remains of the estate after his father’s death, they needed to sell it before the economy crashed altogether. His sister would never get the promised dowry from the government. That infusion of Russian money, along with the rest, had long since disappeared, never making it past the prince’s coffer to the people the donor had meant to support. Prince Nikola continued taunting Russia with a teasing dalliance with Austria as a display of independence. The fine steps of his dance had eroded the fortunes of the Filips family and many others over the years until many Montenegrins, like him, struck out to find alternate means to support their families. If the prince wanted real independence, he’d learn how to manage the economy rather than living off other countries. He’d give teeth to the 1905 constitution so his people could prosper.
But now, with the blessings God poured out on him, Lukas’s family could focus on building a life in America—without the land, deteriorating manor, and title. A new life full of opportunity. He’d proven that as he took higher paying positions with each move. In Montenegro, his title held him back in spite of the higher education he’d been given. Here, all he had to do was survive the coming cold, snowy winter and he’d have enough to set up a home and soon a school for Montenegrin immigrants. So many here needed a good international education. He could at least plan on tutoring in the six languages he spoke. His mother and sister could emigrate as soon as the estate sold. He broke into a smile at the thought of young men learning etiquette from the stern duchess who’d often visited at court with her senate husband. If he only had his mother to instruct his crews. The vivid image brought a snicker. He sobered. What would his family think of Idaho and Montana—and of the woman he loved?
