Proposing Mischief, page 3
But the next strike felt different, like the hardness of the rock had changed. Maisie craned her head forward, letting the light from her lamp reach the wall. Sure enough, where the crevice was deepest, the rock was a different color.
Wouldn’t that be something if she found ore? Maisie straightened her back and lifted her chin. Maybe there was something worthwhile inside of her too. Maisie Kentworth, lady miner, finding treasure when all the men had given up. She lifted the pickax. There was nothing stopping her from hammering on all day—nothing until her family came searching for her.
She let the next swing fly with newly released power. Big chunks of rock crashed to the ground. Another inspection showed something very strange in the wall. The weak light from her hat caught on something white and reflected back at her.
Maisie ran her fingers over the bumpy rim of the dent. Were those diamonds? She whistled. Had she discovered diamonds? If so, she was going to fill her pockets and skedaddle . . .
But no, it wasn’t her mine. Still, one would think she should get some kind of a reward, but finders keepers didn’t apply to trespassers. No matter. The thrill of discovery was propelling her now. She had to see what was next.
With another swing, she hit the sparkling target, only to have it disintegrate before her eyes and her pickax get stuck in the hole she’d made.
“What in tarnation?” she grumbled. Those weren’t diamonds. Even though she’d never owned one, Maisie knew diamonds were the hardest substance on earth. Whatever this was, it was breaking when she struck it. If it was just sparkling rock, then no one would mind if she took a piece home. She just needed the right piece.
As she worked, the hole grew bigger and bigger. There didn’t seem to be anything on the other side of it. She expected to see another layer of rock eventually, but the darkness swallowed up her light. Even the sound was swallowed up and turned into a much-delayed echo.
“It’s a cave?” Maisie dropped the pickax and unbuckled her hat. Holding it before her, she climbed over the debris she’d created to look into the hole. Leaning her hand on the jagged line of crystals, she pushed the hat through the opening and stretched it as far as she was able.
What she saw left her gasping for breath.
CHAPTER
3
Brunch? How many dinner breaks was a man to take in a day? But Darin Caine was a friend of the family and a prospective buyer for Boone’s failing mine, so here Boone sat, the only man in a restaurant whose sole objective seemed to be making you wait so long on your food that you became hungry for lunch.
Justina was smiling at him over the edge of her teacup. Occasionally, when caught off guard, Boone had the disturbing realization that she was an attractive lady. Beneath the elaborate hair arrangement and the overly animated expressions, she could have been a beauty. Such a pity that her affectation had to get in the way.
“See, this isn’t so bad.” She lowered her teacup in triumph. “You could find much to admire about the situation here.”
The chair was uncomfortable, the tea weak, and he had work to do. “It’s a nice”—Boone looked above him—“building. I stopped by once while it was under construction but have never been inside.” Now that he was thinking about it, he remembered the architect, Maxfield Scott, talking about the challenge of creating the large open dining room. It made sense how he utilized the columns around the room, much as Boone installed vertical support beams in the mines to prevent cave-ins.
Someone was coughing. It was Justina, but her ailment resolved with a smile as soon as Boone shifted his focus to her.
“Excuse me. The tea must have gone down the wrong way.” She patted her mouth with her napkin and then, before Boone could get his wits, asked, “Why are you so resistant to socializing?”
Here was a subject he could elaborate on. He rested his forearm on the thick white tablecloth and leaned forward. “Do you really want to know?”
“Yes . . . I suppose.” She gave an airy giggle. “I mean, there’s nothing objectionable about—”
“The first objection,” Boone said, “is that it interferes with my work. I should be at the Curious Bear right now, doing a final inspection. Instead, I’m here waiting for food I wouldn’t normally eat, even if I was hungry.”
The waiter slid two large plates each with a half serving of some sort of egg casserole in front of them. Boone caught the scent of dill, solidifying his opinion.
“The second objection is that being seen in public with you, or any other lady, raises the expectation that I should attend more social events. It will be assumed that I enjoy them, and then my reluctance to accept invitations is taken as an insult, which, as you can imagine, is quite tedious. Thirdly—”
“I know a solution that would make all those problems fly away.” Justina fluttered her hand so that the lace on her sleeve shook like a drunken butterfly. “If you were always seen with the same lady, those expectations would dry up faster than a shaft with Cornish pumps. Everyone would know you were spoken for.”
Cornish pumps. Another piece of business Boone should be attending to instead of this brunch. And yet Justina was making sense. Once a man was spoken for, he was no longer pursued. It was only eligible bachelors who were at risk. Just as he was falling into a deep contemplation of that new information, Justina interrupted again.
“Have you heard of the plans for the new Electric Light Park?” she asked. “It’s going to be the biggest tourist attraction in the region. Mr. Schifferdecker is bringing in a man named Peltz to oversee it. They say it will have gardens, rides, roller coasters, a skating rink, and a swimming pool. And it’s all going to be illuminated by over forty thousand electric lights. Can you imagine? C’est maléfique.”
“Forty thousand lights?” Boone reached for his fork and knife. Perhaps if he ate this gelatinous mess, he could skip his midday meal and catch up on some work. “That’s impossible.”
“Well, I heard it will take $150,000 to build.”
Boone nearly choked. “That’s a fortune! It will take years for them to recoup that amount.”
“Mr. Bragg?”
Boone caught the scent of lilac powder even before he turned. It was Mrs. Kleinkauf, who, along with her husband, owned the plot of land in Oronogo that he was considering purchasing.
“Are you enjoying your brunch?” she asked.
Boone cast a nervous glance at Justina, who was smiling proudly. “I haven’t eaten a bite of it yet,” he answered.
“I thought you never went to brunch,” the matron said. “At least that’s what you told Heidi and me when we invited you to join us last fall.”
Had that happened? Boone had no recollection of it, but it sounded possible. “I don’t usually,” he said. “I never have time, but Miss Caine prevailed upon me to make an exception.”
“I see.” Mrs. Kleinkauf’s cheeks were pink with embarrassment. “I’m sorry that our invitation was disagreeable to you.”
“Not at all, it’s just—”
“Have a nice meal, Mr. Bragg.” She walked past them and out the door.
Boone’s shoulders slumped. “I was hoping to buy their property,” he said. “You don’t suppose . . .”
“That Mr. Kleinkauf will refuse the deal with you because you slighted Heidi? More than likely. Matters of the heart should come first.”
But they didn’t for Boone, and he could see no benefit in pretending that they did.
Boone checked his map against his list of property owners again. He’d been correct. After escorting Justina back to the Caine home on Byers Avenue, he’d returned to his office to find a message from Mr. Kleinkauf. He’d decided to lease the property to Mr. Picher. Of course.
Another business casualty fallen to meddling women. That left only two speculative opportunities he was considering. He’d need to collect core samples to see what compensation would be necessary and then consult his board before making an offer. If all went well, they could break ground by the end of the month, and he could move on. No more standing in a dark tunnel, looking at a watery dead end.
He jotted down the addresses of the property owners and reached for his hat. He needed to take a last look at the Curious Bear, gather any remaining equipment, and then he’d make his calls. Most mine operators sent letters from their office, but Boone believed in the personal touch. Often it smoothed the way and avoided misunderstandings down the road.
As Boone left his office with his notes, he saw two parasols bouncing their way up his porch steps. He’d already suffered through a brunch. Hadn’t he earned a reprieve?
Through the thick glass of the front door, he saw it wasn’t Justina Caine, but it was nearly as bad. He couldn’t remember her name exactly, but he placed her as the daughter of the lead-paint manufacturer. Her mother had once cornered him at a dinner and demanded that he share his proposed timeline for matrimony and fatherhood. Boone had been in the process of forcing himself to choke on hors d’oeuvres when his mother intervened.
No mother to intervene now. Boone headed toward his back door as Mrs. Karol, the housekeeper, passed him, alerted to the doorbell. Women, with all their frilly fragility, bored him senseless. He wasn’t short-sighted enough to say he would never marry, but if there was some way to skip all the preliminaries that accompanied the ordeal, Boone would be grateful. He resented feeling like a prize in some contest, the rules of which he didn’t understand.
He hurried past the kitchen to the servants’ entrance, then out to his waiting buggy. The horse pawed expectantly, and Boone didn’t hold him back when he burst into a run. He took the turn onto the street too fast and clipped his mother’s rosebush with one wheel, garnering the attention of the ladies on the porch. Mrs. Karol must have told them that he was out, because they turned to stare at him with open irritation. Fine and dandy. If they didn’t want to see him again, so much the better, but Boone feared they wouldn’t be dissuaded. They’d come again and insist on pouting about how he’d avoided them the last time.
If only there were a way to get on with his life without the interference of all these women. They saw him as the heir of a wealthy man, but they had no idea that his fortune was in jeopardy. If his luck didn’t change, Boone would be working for wages like the rest of the miners. He had to get his finances on solid footing.
His horse trotted quickly through the Murphysburg neighborhood, new mansions going up on every side. Dirt was piled high on the corner lot of South Sergeant Avenue in preparation for another sprawling foundation. All this money was from the dirty work he and the other miners did in the ground. He turned off the city street and followed the country road until he’d reached the special entrance at the Kennedys’ farm for the Curious Bear Mine workers.
Too bad it hadn’t worked out. Boone could’ve sworn that this spot would be productive. Perhaps it would’ve worked for him if he knew how to install and manage the large water pumps. He still wasn’t convinced that he couldn’t figure them out, but it was better to play it safe and hope for the best for Mr. Caine.
When he reached the headframe, Boone knew something was amiss. The side door to the office was ajar. He dismounted from the buggy and secured his horse. It wouldn’t be the first time a worker stole supplies to trade for whiskey. Going inside, he saw that the equipment chest was open. Rummaging through the box, he figured that the value of the missing items wasn’t worth bothering over. In fact, he couldn’t figure out why they hadn’t taken more. It wasn’t worth breaking the lock on the chest, really. He looked at the boarded-up entrance shaft and saw that some boards had been pried off, but not enough for a man to fit through.
Then he saw the twine tied to the board, and his stomach twisted. It was a sure sign that someone had gone into the mine, and from the size of the gap in the boards, it was probably a child.
With a quick prayer for the safety of whomever he was going after, Boone removed his coat, stepped out of his Oxfords, and pulled on a pair of boots from the chest. Lighting a sunshine lamp and a handheld lantern, he trudged his way to the entrance. Another board had to be removed before he could fit through the gap, but now that he was through, it wouldn’t take any time at all to follow the twine.
Boone ducked his head as he turned onto the narrower path that tilted downward. When was the last time someone had been here? Two days ago? Three? He was preparing himself for the worst—a child who’d fallen and hadn’t been able to make their way out, maybe even a cave-in. For all he knew, whoever had trespassed might be long gone.
But then he heard footsteps running toward him.
Whoever they were, they weren’t hurt. Not at that pace. And they obviously didn’t see the light from his lamp, because they didn’t slow down until they rushed right into him.
Swishing fabric, fast breathing, and then a grunt as Boone caught the trespasser with an outstretched arm. Holding the interloper at a safe distance, he tried to make sense of what he was seeing with the weak light from his lanterns. There was a skirt, so a girl? But then he got a better look at what the light revealed and what the shadows hid, and he recoiled.
A woman? In his mine? Would they never leave him in peace?
“You have to see what I found.” Her voice was low—raspy—as if she’d just woken. “Follow me.” She grabbed him by the wrist and tried to drag him deeper into the mine.
Was Boone losing his mind? This couldn’t be real. “Who are you?” he asked. “Why are you in this mine?”
“I was fixing the fence just yonder and thought I’d hop over and take a look around. You’ll be glad that I did. Come on.”
“You thought you’d take a look around?” Boone dug in his heels. He hadn’t hidden from half the society ladies in Joplin only to be snagged by a mine-dwelling trespasser. “You thought you’d break the lock to my supply chest and help yourself to equipment that you had no right to, then break through the barriers on the entrance. That’s more than just stopping in for a visit.”
Her eyes were shaded by the brim of her hat, but her mouth quirked. “You work here? Is that why you’re riled?”
“I own the mine. For a few more days, anyway.”
“Then you don’t want to see what I’ve found, because then you’ll have to wonder what kind of miners do all this digging and can’t see what took me only minutes to uncover.”
At last, here was a woman talking about something that interested him. Was there ore above the waterline? Had his men walked right past a blossom without seeing it? Not Gilbert. He was the best foreman in the district. And yet the quest for the unexpected, the thought that there might be treasure just behind the next blow of a pickax, was what kept the miners of Joplin digging, and Boone was not immune.
“Show me,” he said.
She spun and raced away. As excited as he was, Boone couldn’t run, not with the low ceiling liable to knock his hat off.
Women. Women everywhere. He’d snuck away from his own home to avoid them only to run into one deep in the bowels of his mine. Was there nowhere that he’d be free of them? But this woman didn’t act like his presence meant anything further than another human she wanted to show something to. In other words, she wasn’t acting like a woman.
She’d stopped running and tossed her pickax against the jagged wall of the passageway. The light from his lantern caught her brown leather work boots and her homespun skirt. Working on a fence, she’d said? She was dressed for heavy labor. And the hands waving him impatiently forward were probably used to labor as well. He felt his anxiety easing.
“Look.” She stepped out of the way, exposing a hole in the rock.
“What? A cave?” He cleared his throat to hide his disappointment. Caves were as common as mules in this part of Missouri. But even as he approached, he saw the crystal lining the opening she’d made. Not just a crystal, but a crystal band that edged the whole area in glittering light.
Could it be a geode? A giant geode? A geode as big as a rain barrel?
She bounced on her toes as he leaned in farther, impatiently waiting for his response. Well, he’d respond once he figured out what he was dealing with.
Leaning against the broken wall, he extended the lantern into the darkness, going slowly so he didn’t knock it from his hand when he hit the opposite side. But there was no opposite side. Boone frowned at the darkness and blinked to clear his eyes and pick out something definite about the space, but everything was shrouded.
“Hello,” he called through the hole.
The girl clapped her hands together. “That’s what I did too.”
Because she was talking, he missed the return echo . . . but no. It came after she spoke. The hair on his arms rose with a delicious shiver.
“It’s immense,” he said, then called a greeting again, just to test his theory. The returning echo only confirmed it. “That’s a big cave,” he said, “but I don’t know what good it’ll do me unless it’s filled with ore.”
“Ore?” The lady shook her head, throwing light willy-nilly over him. “It’s not ore you should be thinking about, but the room. Look at it again.”
Boone wanted to look at her. What was she? Some kind of underground sprite? But he turned back to the opening. This time, instead of holding his lantern out, he held it against the nearest wall. The layer of crystal wasn’t just around the rim of the hole. It covered every inch he could see. Even when the substance faded into darkness, twinkling hints of what was farther afield caught his eye.
“Do you think it’s the whole room?” she asked.
That was an interesting question, and there was only one way to find out. Taking her offered pickax, Boone nudged her out of the way, and then, with a few hits, smashed through the wall. The sound of the falling debris told him that the decline wasn’t sheer, but it was deep. He ducked his head and shoulders through the opening only to have her grab him by his belt and tug him backward.
“What was that for?” he asked.
She lifted her shoulders. “Sorry. I thought you were falling headfirst into the hole.”
