Proposing Mischief, page 23
She drew a firm breath to steady her voice before continuing. “What do I need to know about your parents? Are they going to let me back in the house?”
“Yes!” Boone’s eyes flashed. “You’re a Bragg. You belong there.”
That was something to build on, Maisie figured. “Are they terribly angry with me?”
“They’ll blame me. Believe me, they know how stubborn I can be.”
“But it’s their house. If they don’t want me there . . .” She paused, giving Boone a chance to reassure her. To tell her they would learn to love her and everything would work out in the end.
Instead, he said, “That man at the parade. That was your old beau?”
Her stomach flopped. “That was him.”
“From what I heard, he seemed confident that you would be happier with him.” Boone’s jaw twitched. Avoiding her gaze, he turned to check on his horse as it followed them.
Maisie looked up at the evening sky. What would Calista advise her to say? She wouldn’t be happier with Silas, but was Boone trying to find an excuse to let her go?
“I don’t want him,” she said. “I’m ashamed that I ever associated with him. I left him when I saw what manner of man he was, and I don’t regret that decision.”
Had she laid on the that too heavily? Because Boone winced.
“You might not be happy with him,” Boone said, “but I don’t know if I can make you happy either.”
The lights of the Bragg home flickered through the trees. Maisie knew the courage it took to leap over a gully. She knew the courage it took to dive into a lake. But courage was also needed when you found yourself in a fight with a runaway calf and you had to decide whether to let it go or to keep ahold of the rope, knowing that you were going to get some bruises and scrapes in the fight. Courage was for hanging in there, even knowing how tough it might get.
“It’s not your job to make me happy,” she said. “No man can keep a woman happy unless she has set her mind to it. I’ve just got to decide that I’m grateful for what I have and make the most of it. Happy or not, I can do my duty. That’s the surest road to happiness that I know.”
Brave words as they reached the house, but now she had to find the strength to live them.
CHAPTER
24
Before the sun had cleared the rooftops visible from Maisie’s third-story window, she was up and dressed. Today she was going to meet Boone’s parents, and she was ready to face them.
Last night, Boone had brought her through the servants’ entrance and up the kitchen staircase to avoid running into his parents before she was ready. Maisie didn’t think she’d be any more ready the next morning, but he’d mentioned that she looked a mess, and when she thought about the scuffle she’d had with Silas along with the long day on the float in the sun and wind, she realized that waiting until she could wash her hair and put on clean clothes was wise.
But it meant a sleepless night of pacing, wishing the first meeting was already behind her.
When she heard Boone moving around in the bedroom below, she went down her stairs and pressed her ear to the door for a sign that he was ready for her. This morning it was the sound of his boots dropping to the floor that told her it was safe to tap on the door.
“Come in,” he said.
The faint pink tint in his eyes spoke of a wasted night for him as well. She wished she could smooth his tousled hair. This whole ordeal would be so much easier if she knew she was fighting for the two of them. As it was, it felt like Boone and she were fighting to maintain the status quo when neither of them cottoned to it.
He lifted his chin to the side and stretched his neck out to her. “Go on, take a whiff. I think you like the smell as much as I do.” He kept her in his gaze, hopeful as she approached.
Maisie dropped her hand onto his shoulder as she leaned in and filled her lungs with the scent of lemon and sandalwood. “Smelling sweet,” she said. “Too fancy for working in a mine.” This was what she’d never had with Silas. The slowly growing together. The friendship, the uncertainty, the little steps that might someday mean more than instant attraction.
“Today we need to test the safety of the stairways and finish the café area,” Boone said. “You can come if you want, but you’ll probably get dirty.”
“I’m not going to sit around here. I’ve had enough of that.” He was engrossed with his shoestring, so Maisie added, “I could bring Olive to the visitor center. She needs to get out of her house.”
“Good idea. I’ll have Fegus drive you to pick her up, if you’d like.”
“I can walk.” She moved to the door, but Boone stopped her.
“Wait. I should go down with you. If you’ll give me a minute . . .” He was really flummoxed by that shoestring, but Maisie was ready to face her dragons.
“I’ll see you at breakfast,” she said.
“If you’ll wait—”
Maisie wouldn’t hide behind Boone. She needed to stand on her own feet.
The breakfast room was a beautiful rectangular space that ran the length of the house and seemed to be made entirely of glass. Because of the sunlight, potted plants of every size and shape crowded the edges of the room, their greenery framing the view of the lawn. Even the breakfast cart was covered in small pots of herbs that reminded Maisie of her mother’s kitchen garden back home.
“Mrs. Bragg,” Mrs. Karol said with a smirk, “Mrs. Bragg would like to see you in the parlor.”
Since her first day, Maisie had barely made it back to the parlor. She and Boone spent their time in the library or in the yard, making up some contest between them. When she saw a tall, handsome woman pounding on a pillow, she looked about to make sure she’d taken the right turn, but then she recollected the portrait above the fireplace and reasoned it out.
“Maisie?” Mrs. Bragg pounded on the pillow one last time, then tossed it onto the sofa. Her mouth twisted to the side as she took in Maisie, from her head to her toe twisting in the deep rug. “Have a seat, dear.”
“I’m faster on my feet,” Maisie said with a quick glance at the door.
If Maisie’s answer surprised Mrs. Bragg, she hid it well. “I think I’ll sit, if you don’t mind.” She eased her way onto the sofa and fluffed the pillow one last time. “You can imagine our surprise when we were mailed a newspaper that told us our son had wed.” No beating around the bush for Mrs. Bragg. Maisie understood who her son took after.
“Yes, ma’am. I can imagine. Then again, you must know Boone. He’s not one to blather on about things.”
“I do know Boone, thank you.” His mother’s tone was hard to read. “And while he isn’t the most communicative, he’s never failed to involve us in a matter of this importance.”
Like what? Maisie wanted to ask. What else had ever happened in his life that was this important? And what did they expect when they’d been gone for weeks? Her own folks had to be home by dark every night if they wanted to get up for milking the next day. She couldn’t imagine parents who left for months. But Granny Laura had taught her that not all her thoughts were worthy of breath, so she held her peace.
Mrs. Bragg clapped her hands over her knees. “You seem like a nice young lady.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I said you seem like. I haven’t had time to make that determination yet. If you are eventually going to decide that being married to our son isn’t agreeable, it will take years for the scandal to fade. For this reason, I think we should avoid that scenario by biting the bullet and making the removal as quick as possible.”
“I don’t understand.” Maisie crossed her arms. “If divorcing him is disgraceful, why would you tell me to do it?”
“I’d rather give him a chance to put this unfortunate incident behind him while he’s still young, instead of letting the idea become well entrenched around town before you make your exit. If it’s inevitable, let’s get it behind us.”
Maisie’s neck burned. “It’s not inevitable,” she said through clenched teeth. “You should give your son more credit. He didn’t marry a gal who would bring disgrace on his family.” Perhaps her own family, but she’d learned a thing or two since then.
“I would hope not, but Boone has had girls after him since he started shaving. Most of them are pushed by their parents because they want their daughters to have this house, this life, and to move in the highest society.”
“You can keep that society,” Maisie exclaimed. “Bottle them up and put them on the back shelf of the root cellar. The house is nice, but I’ve got more room to roam at home. Your yard is puny compared to our ranch. My family isn’t penniless.”
“Why, then? Don’t tell me you fell in love with him immediately. I’m not buying that.”
“I’ll stay married to him because I promised to,” Maisie said, “not because of how I felt when I said the words. Feelings have nothing to do with it.”
“You’ll stay out of a sense of duty?” Mrs. Bragg twisted the tassel on the corner of the pillow between her fingers and pegged Maisie with her skeptical gaze. “Even though your heart isn’t engaged?”
With a clearing of his throat, Boone stepped into the room. “She isn’t in love with me,” he said. “You wanted her to admit it, and she did. Does that answer satisfy you?”
Mrs. Bragg had the grace to look embarrassed. “You shouldn’t lurk in hallways. I’m trying to ascertain what’s to be done here.”
Had Maisie walked in to hear Boone saying that he didn’t love her, she would be devastated, but he didn’t seem to be affected.
“There’s nothing for you to do,” he said. “She’s my wife, and that doesn’t require any further action.”
“I appreciate your goodwill, but look at her, Boone. You’re doing your family a disservice if you think she can represent us dressed as she is. And there will be consequences for her, as well. She won’t be accepted or happy until she better understands the life you’ve thrust upon her.”
“She understands the business that we’ve partnered in. There’s work to be done today. You must be tired from your traveling—”
“Nonsense. I never shirk my duty, and if you are insisting on keeping her, we must help her acclimate to life as a Bragg. The first thing she should realize is that Bragg women don’t work in mines.”
Maisie wondered if Bragg women had adequate hearing, because they were carrying on like she wasn’t in the room.
“It’s a cave, Mother,” Boone said. “Hundreds if not thousands of women are going to go into this cave. Maisie has been a godsend when it comes to marketing the business.”
“Word is spreading,” Mrs. Bragg said. “We heard about the Crystal Cave all the way in Florida. And then, when we arrived home, we found a girl dressed in a hideous costume atop a wagon with our name on it. Everyone in town saw her. And half the town saw her get into a brawl with a strange man.”
“I’ve laid off brawling,” Maisie said. “From now on I’ll only fight with Boone.”
Mrs. Bragg blinked.
Boone dropped his hand on Maisie’s shoulder. “If you want to grab some breakfast, I’ll get the horses saddled.”
“I’m in earnest, Boone,” his mother said. “You’ve neglected her development. If you insist on keeping her, you must minimize the damage. Let me take her for a fitting before you parade her inadequate wardrobe through town again. Who is your dressmaker?” she asked Maisie.
“My ma, when she has time. Otherwise we order from the Montgomery Ward catalog.”
Mrs. Bragg flung both hands in the air. “Do you see how badly I’m needed?”
“It’s up to you,” Boone said to Maisie. “You can come with me to the cave or go with Mother to the dressmaker. Whatever you feel is best.”
Maisie bit her lip. She’d rather go with Boone. One hundred times over would she rather go with Boone than spend the day with his prickly mother, hearing more about how her wardrobe was inadequate, her family was inadequate, her manners were inadequate. But she needed to make another friend in this household, and that wouldn’t happen if she rejected Mrs. Bragg’s offer. Besides, she’d embarrassed Boone horribly at the party, and she never wanted to do that again. His mother was right. She had a lot of work to do that didn’t involve the cave.
“I’ll go with your mother.” Maisie pulled her mouth into what she hoped looked like a smile. “I need her help to get all gussied up.”
“If that’s what you want.”
What she wanted was to help Boone. If making his family happy put his mind at ease, then that was what she’d do.
Despite him asking, Boone’s father had no interest in coming to see the cave that morning.
“Son, I’ve been in more caves than a bat. I just got back in town. I’ve got to see how my investments are doing.”
Boone lifted his satchel to the desk in his father’s office downtown. “I’ve kept accounts on everything of yours while you were gone. You should find it in good order. I was able to negotiate a better rate at the smelters for the Spook Light Mine, so I included your mines in that as well. Last month the output of the Rosemary was down ten percent, but they’ve hit another good patch and are hauling ore out on schedule now. You shouldn’t have lost anything.”
“You’re a good mine operator, son. Why would you throw that away?”
Boone’s eyes were drawn past Maxfield Scott’s architectural wonders lining the street to the morning light cascading through the leaves.
“You taught me and Grady that we’re supposed to be good stewards of our gifts—whether talent, intelligence, or wealth. God entrusted us with those gifts for His glory and the benefit of our fellow man.”
“And that’s why it’s a shame for you to let this distract from your mining. That’s where your talent lies.”
“There’s no lack of men in Joplin who can do the mining. God gave that gift liberally, but He gave me something unique. He gave me—Maisie and me—a piece of His creation that is unlike anything in the known world. When you see it, you can’t help but think of the One who created it. No man has ever designed its equal—no matter how many electric lamps they steal.”
His father’s head jerked at the accusation. “Someone’s stealing from you?”
“Yes. I can’t prove who, but that Electric Light Park going in sure doesn’t like that we’re taking attention away from them.”
“I read an article about the construction. You’re going to be up against a behemoth. There’s no way you can compete with them.”
That was why Boone hadn’t told his parents anything. If they had stayed gone for two more weeks, he would’ve had figures on paper to prove his success.
“At least I’ll know in good conscience that I did what I could.” If God had wanted to hide the cavern until Caine discovered it, He could have.
“I’ve been gone too long,” his father said. “The mine managers need to see that I’m back at the helm. Are you coming with me?”
Boone picked up his hat. “We’ve sold a lot of tickets for the upcoming weekend. Everything has to be ready. I’m sorry.”
The heaviness of his parents’ disappointment stayed with him all the way to the work site. He arrived to see a wagon unloading crates of mugs for the café. Boone grabbed a crate to carry inside and saw Mark Gilbert coming up out of the shaft.
“How’s it look down there?” Boone asked.
Gilbert held the door to the shaft open behind him as the rest of the construction crew came up. “It’s hard going. We had to reset all the lamps, and we’re nearly finished with the handrails. We’ll be set if the pumps hold out.”
“They’ll hold out,” Boone said. “The repairs have held, and I know what to do next time.” And with his newfound experience, he would never have to shut down a mine because of water again. If he was still solvent after this venture, anyway.
“I heard your folks are back in town. What do they think of your new project?” Gilbert asked.
“I’d rather have been able to tell them about it myself instead of them forming their opinions while at a resort in Florida.”
“Not happy, are they?”
“Mining is all my father knows. He doesn’t see any profit in this, but we’ll show him. We’ll get this open soon enough, and it’ll start earning its keep.”
“Or Peltz is right. It’ll fail, you’ll lose this investment, and you’ll have to sell to Caine, regardless of all your work.”
Boone wanted his workers to be passionate about their jobs, but sometimes they took on so much ownership that they forgot who was boss.
Boone paused just long enough for Gilbert to feel the stare and drop his head.
“I’m going below,” Boone said. “Help move these crates inside.”
He walked through the entryway and down the steps, pausing for his eyes to adjust to the electric lighting above his head. He wasn’t deep enough for the normal scents of a mine to catch him, but this one would always smell different. Instead of gunpowder and floating dust, the air smelled like paint and varnish. The handrail was smooth as he descended, and the stairs were even.
The tight path the customers would come through gave no hint of the glory beyond it. Boone wouldn’t be surprised if many people became anxious and reversed course before reaching their destination. Hopefully they’d buy some postcards in the gift shop on their way home.
He’d gone down five or maybe six flights of stairs when he heard someone approaching from the bottom. Boone waited on a landing, because from the racket they were making, it sounded like they were loaded down like a pack mule.
His light caught the miner’s surprised face when he turned the corner and looked up at Boone. It was young Howard Hughes.
Noting the bucket of paint and the paintbrushes stuck beneath his arm, Boone said, “They left you to tidy up, did they?”
“Forgot all about me,” Howard said, “but if we leave this varnish open, it’s going to dry out.”
“Then you better get on up there.” Boone moved to the side of the platform to give him room to pass.
“Hey, boss, I’ve got a question for you, if you don’t mind.” Howard’s dark-rimmed eyes darted about as if someone might be in the shadows listening. “I noticed something strange going on in this tunnel.”
