 
Hannah's Dilemma

By Mary L. Briggs

Smashwords Edition

COPYRIGHT © 2018 Mary L. Briggs

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue
Chapter 1

Inez Pollard, carrying a tray of coffee cups, stopped at the kitchen door and stared into the dining room. The big blond miner, standing in front of his table, and the smaller bald man she had never seen before tonight, were shouting. Mostly at each other, but a few other men were chiming in, yelling their opinions, as well. It was something to do with the game of dominoes that was on the table in front of them.

But, no doubt, things would be more serious in another bellow or two. She squeezed her eyes almost shut as the Swede was the first to let his fist fly, striking the bald man in the eye. The table that stood between them crashed in a heap, sending dominoes skittering across the floor, along with the bald man. A roar sounded from the rest of the men as they came out of their chairs. The fight was on.

Inez shook her head. How could they keep doing this to her? "Stop it," she yelled, setting the tray back on the counter and taking a step into the room. If she had anything to do with it, they were wrecking her restaurant for the last time. A couple of men from Jacob's Brewery got in on the argument, shouting insults to each other's faces. More fists began to fly, along with all of her plates and cups, as one man fell against the counter. Thankfully, she had heeded her son Ross's advice, and served only on metal dishes. They would survive the ordeal. The fate of the furniture and dining area were yet to be determined.

"I said ENOUGH!" she screamed once more, as a man sailed backwards through the large glass window that looked out on the street. The one that struck him climbed through after him, and others followed, moving the, by now, multiple fights into the street.

She felt a hand take hold of her arm and tug her back inside the kitchen.

"We might as well watch from in here," her sister, Lenora stated. "By the way, how many windows does that make?"

"This month or this year," Inez fumed, grabbing the shotgun she kept in the corner. "These boys are sure keeping the hardware store and handy men in business," she said, heading out the door and into the muddy street.

One blast was all it took from her rifle to bring the rowdy brawl to a halt. "Now, all of you get on home before I send off for the mayor and the sheriff!"

Those on the ground stood, and most of them wiped the mud and dirt from their faces. A few gave her sheepish grins as they sauntered away.

"Sorry about that, ma'am," the big blond miner apologized, using his sleeve to wipe a streak of blood from his nose. "I guess it was mostly my fault. I'll go ahead and board up the window for you."

"That would be real nice of you, Kristopher."

***

With the last bit of glass swept from the rough plank floor, Inez took a seat and stared around her business. "What a mess," she said, to no one in particular.

"You can say that again. And probably again tomorrow night," her sister answered, coming out of the kitchen with two cups of steaming coffee. She set them on the table in front of Inez, then seated herself across from her.

"I'm going to put a stop to this, Lenora."

Her sister smiled and took a sip from her cup. "And just how would you do that?"

Inez's eyes narrowed. "I'm going to marry them all off to nice girls."

Lenora's eyebrows shot up. "Not in this town, you're not."

"Oh, yes I am. They'll be too busy with wives and children to spend their evenings in town wrecking my restaurant. When they do show up, it will be with wife and babies in tow. And I'm starting on the plan tomorrow."
Chapter 2

Ross Pollard slammed the door behind him as he entered The Pollard Mine offices. He removed his hands from his coat pockets and blew on them, then rubbed them together. There were times when he missed Tennessee weather. A place where, for the most part, March was more like spring than winter. He took off his coat and hat and hung them on the hooks in the entryway.

"Good morning, Mr. Pollard," his secretary, Miss Bard, greeted him. "Mr. Millard is in your office, sir."

Ross's brow crinkled. Hopefully, there was no problem with his mother's new house. The progress had looked good to him when he had stopped by the site a few days back.

He stepped into his office. "Morning, Hiram."

Hiram Millard stood and returned the greeting. "I'm sorry to bother you this morning, sir, but something has come up with your mother's house and I just wanted to let you know."

Ross grinned and took a seat at his desk. "She's the richest woman in town, Millard. She can have whatever she wants."

Hiram Millard cleared his throat. "Well, it's about the bedrooms, sir."

Ross sighed. "I went over and over that subject with her, Hiram. I know that ten bedrooms seems a lot to a woman used to not more than two, but I explained to her how important it is to have space for guests. As mine owners, we have to entertain a lot of people."

Millard nodded. "But that's just it, sir. She wants more of them. A lot more."

Ross leaned back in the leather desk chair and stared. He could tell by the man's expression that there was more to this than he was saying. "She asked you for more than ten bedrooms?"

The builder nodded.

"And did she say why?"

Hiram Millard cleared his throat again, a pained expression on his face. "For a boarding house, sir. Said she would need a lot of rooms."

Ross's eyebrows shot up. "And when did she tell you this?"

"Just this morning, sir. Said she'd like the entire top floor to be partitioned off into small bedrooms."

Ross felt his jaw drop and immediately closed his mouth. "I see. Well, I'll go have a talk with her, Hiram. I'll let you know something soon."

"Thank you, sir," the builder nodded, standing to leave. "We'll concentrate on the lower floor for today."

***

Ross stood outside of his office and turned his eyes to the hill above the town. He could see his mother's magnificent house from where he stood. Bricks hauled in from back east, glowed red in the early morning sun. The magnificent porch, with the large pillars made it a sight to see when one looked up. He sighed. The beautiful home was almost out of place in the dirty and ragged mining town. Sure, buildings were starting to go up daily, and new businesses were started every day, but the place still had a long way to go before it resembled a civilized town.

He shook his head. Inez Pollard could finally have the sort of life that she deserved, and yet she insisted on working herself half to death. As if the restaurant wasn't enough work for her, now she wanted a boarding house? It was time to have a long talk with her.

***

"He's coming!"

Inez, pouring her fifth pan of cornbread, nodded to her sister, busy wiping down the numerous tables in the dining area, but she ignored her statement. She had expected Ross to show up at any moment. After her conversation with Hiram Millard this morning, she had been sure the man would head straight to her son's office to clear her plans with him.

Carrying the pan to one of her four ovens, she set it inside, and slammed the door. When she turned, Ross was standing in the room with her, his hat in his hands.

"Good morning, Mother."

It was never a good sign when he called her Mother. "Good morning, son." She would play along, like nothing was wrong. "Take off your coat and I'll get a hot cup of coffee for you. Perfect on a chilly morning, like this."

Ross didn't bother to move. "I didn't come to drink coffee and chat. I guess you knew that Hiram Millard would come to see me."

"I assumed he would," Inez answered, pouring a cup of the black liquid for herself.

"What is all this nonsense about a boarding house? You know that Keller, as well as Williams, both have large tents set up right down town that hold a lot of men. They sleep in shifts. They don't need rooms. We don't need more places to board men."

She gave him her sweetest smile. "I completely agree with you, Ross. And I promise I won't have any men boarding in my house."

Confusion swept his handsome face. "What do you mean?"

For a moment she contemplated how very like his father he was. Handsome, strong, intelligent. But stubborn like him, too. "It will be a boarding house for women."

"WOMEN?"

She cringed at the volume in his word.

"We don't have any women here in town," he added, a calmer tone to his voice. "At least not the type you're talking about."

"Not yet. But we will when I bring them out here. And don't worry. My house is only a temporary residence for them. I intend to have a boarding house built down in the town. It should be ready a few weeks after they arrive. When it's ready, the third floor of my house will go back to the original plan."

He sighed and tossed his hat to the counter. "How about I have that cup of coffee and you explain to me what it is you think you're doing?"

***

Ross took a sip of his third cup of hot brew and swallowed. "It can't be done. This town isn't ready for decent women."

Inez shook her head. "Any woman can be a decent woman. She just needs God in her heart and a man to treat her like one. And besides, these are going to be marriageable women that I'm going to advertise for and bring to town. Not show girls."

He grinned. "I can just see their faces once they see what a mess this town is."

She shrugged. "They'll have a nice place to live until they find a husband."

Ross snorted. "He, whoever the husband might be, won't be able to keep them like you will."

She shook her head. Why did men have to be so hard-headed? "These will be realistic women. They won't be coming from wealthy families. They will understand that life is hard. That this is a new country, and you have to work your way out of poverty. I certainly learned it and they will, too. I'll state all of that plain enough in my advertisement and a return letter to answer their query. And there will be a questionnaire, as well. That will determine which ones are chosen to come."

She watched as he rubbed his jaw. That told her he was thinking about what she said. It was a start, if nothing else. And, he had really taken the whole thing better than she had hoped.

She leaned across the table, giving him her sweetest smile. "Just think what it could mean for the mines, Ross. The men would be happier, more settled, not coming in to work all beat up and sore. And it would cut down on all the drinking in town, too."

He stared into his coffee. "I guess I can see the advantages. Women might give a settled feeling to this town."

"Of course they will," she encouraged. "They'll make a difference right from the start, you'll see. Before long, we'll have a school. And churches. Lots of shops. It will be a civilized place to live. Surely you want that, too, don't you, son?"

He grinned. "You know I do, Ma. It's just that I don't see how. . ." he sighed. "Well, what I mean is, we'll have to find a way to get them here."

She nodded and swallowed back the excitement that stirred within. He was all ready considering how he might help. "I was thinking I might go to meet all of them in Kansas City. I'll rent a private car for them, and then I can get to know the girls over the couple of days it will take us to get to Silver Ridge."

He laughed and took the last drink of his coffee. "I have to hand it to you, Ma, you sure know how to work things out."
Chapter 3

Hannah Stillman pulled the shawl a little tighter around her shoulders and exchanged the weight of the basket to her left arm. Only one more stop, and she would be on her way to Dr. Starnes Boarding Home For the Elderly.

She heaved open the heavy doors of the Henson Hotel. Stopping, she looked around the lobby, making sure that he was not there. Some days, it seemed as if Wesley Stout, the town banker, was everywhere. His eyes always following her, a leering smile on his face. Just the thought of him made her shudder. The room empty, she headed to the desk in the back. The hotel owner, tall and thin, was manning the desk and looked up with a smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Henson," she greeted him, hoisting her basket on top of the counter. "Do you have any newspapers for me this morning?"  
He nodded and reached beneath the counter. "As a matter of fact, one of the maids found this paper from Chicago, Illinois. Will that do?"

"Yes!" She eagerly took the rolled paper from him and inserted it into the white oak basket. "Everyone down at the boarding house will be excited to see this one. It means a lot to them that you send one whenever you have a stray paper left in the rooms."

He smiled. "We are privileged to do so. I can imagine that the reading helps while away the hours for those not able to get out and enjoy themselves. Now, you tell Dr. Starnes I said 'hello'."

"I will," she nodded, turning and heading for the door.

Glad to be out in the fresh air, she heard a squeal of delight as she passed the post office. Stopping, she turned to see Mindy Barnes coming out the door. A paper was in her hands, and her face was pink with excitement. "Is everything all right, Mindy?"

Mindy nodded her dark head. "I'm going to be a mail order bride, Hannah! See?"

She took the letter from the girl and let her eyes scan the words, landing on the last section. It was definitely a proposal. "Oh, Mindy, it's. . .it's wonderful!" Maybe. What would it be like to marry a man that you'd never met?

"Oh, thank you, Hannah. I am so excited. I'll be taking the train out to Wyoming in another two weeks. I'm sure the Burnett family will be glad to have me gone."

Hannah shook her head, her hair flying in the wind. Mindy had been an orphan since she was twelve, but Mr. and Mrs. Burnett had always seemed very fond of her. "I'm sure that's not true, Mindy. Mrs. Burnett loves having you around the house for companionship, as well as all the help you give with the housework and children. I know that you'll be sorely missed."

Mindy laughed. "Maybe so. But it will be nice to have a home of my own."

***

"More water, Mr. White?" Hannah held a glass out to the elderly gentleman. He had been rather cranky since breakfast, but seemed to have settled down once he was in his rocker on the porch. Hannah had made sure he was covered in plenty of blankets to shield him from the cool breeze.

He brushed away the offer and kept his eyes on the group of children playing ball down the street. "I used to play that game," he said, still watching, as a light breath of wind ruffled the gray hair that showed beneath his knitted hat.

Hannah set the glass on the table beside the man. "I'm sure you were very good at it, too," she smiled.

He turned and looked at her, a frown on his lips. "How would you know?"

She had thought it a nice thing to say. It seemed there was never any pleasing Mr. White. "Well, I don't, sir."

"Then no need to say so," he said, his eyes back on the game.

"I'm leaving this bell on the table with your water," she said, as she headed back inside. "Ring if you need anything. I'll be back to check on you later," she said, smiling a nod of thanks at Mr. Allen as he held the door for her on his way out to the porch. Maybe his visit with Mr. White would manage to cheer the old curmudgeon.

With the door closed behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief. Mr. White was the most difficult person she knew. If not for Dr. Starnes constant encouragement, she would have given up on the man long ago.

In the kitchen, she began to ready the mid-morning tea and biscuits that most of the boarders enjoyed. With only six of them in residence, there wasn't as much care as usual. And Mr. Allen would be leaving with his daughter next week, to live with her on a farm in Kansas. That would leave only five of them for her to cook for and look after.

Watching the water come to a boil, she reflected on her walk to work earlier. Mostly on Mindy Barnes. She was happy for the girl. It was hard to imagine leaving everything you knew to go be a part of someone else's family. Still, the thought of getting away, leaving everything behind had some appeal, she had to admit.

Like Mindy, she was an orphan. Her elderly aunt had raised her from a small child. But the woman had been gone three years now. With no other family, and only a small stipend income from Aunt Harriet's investments, her life consisted mainly of spending time there at the house helping Dr. Starnes with his permanent borders. He was out most of the day, seeing patients that needed his help.

If nothing else, the job was a good way to keep Mr. Stout out of her life. The local banker was insistent that she marry him, insistent that her aunt would have wanted it. She snorted and poured the water into the tea pot. If only Mr. Stout knew her aunt's true opinion of him when she was living, the man would slink away in shame. A scoundrel and a womanizer had been the perceptive woman's opinion.

Sadly, he was the only man interested in her. Only last week, Mrs. Potts, one of the lady boarders, had told her that someday a young, handsome man would come along and take her away from her days of spending time with only the old ones here at the house.

Hannah smiled. She enjoyed her time with all of them, but the idea of a family sent such a feeling of peace through her. Making supper for her husband, rocking babies, caring for her own home. Is it possible, Lord?

***

In the front room, three of the women were already seated at the small table. Mrs. Bellmore, ever the loner, was in the corner rocker, busy with her knitting. A sweater for her son, she had told them yesterday. Where her son was, Hannah had no idea. The woman had been a resident here for over five years, and as of yet, no son had appeared.

"Tea is ready, ladies." She smiled, as she set the tray of cups, cream, sugar, jam, and biscuits on the table. I'll be right back with the teapot."

"Bring in an extra cup for yourself," Mrs. Stott called after her.

***

Once they were settled at the table, Hannah realized that all eyes were on her. "What?" she smiled. She looked down at her apron to see if she was covered in flour, or had managed to spill some of the raspberry jam on her dress.

Mrs. Makins giggled. "You'd best show it to her, Gloria," she said, glancing at Mrs. Potts.

Gloria Potts pulled a piece of cut out paper from her large apron pocket. "There was another paper rolled up in the Chicago paper you brought. We found this. We thought you ought to have it. It could be the answer to your prayers, Hannah!"

Hannah reached over and took the folded paper from her. The Matrimonial News, it read at the top of the tattered page. She stared at the words of the large advertisement.

Seeking Women of Courage and High Moral Character

The small mining community of Silver Ridge, Colorado is seeking ladies of marriageable age, 18-55. Silver Ridge is an up and coming small city, still in the rough stages of becoming the shining gem She will one day be. If you seek marriage, employment, or business opportunities, please apply by mailing a letter of your qualifications to the address below.

All women will be escorted by Inez Pollard, from Kansas City, Kansas, by private rail car. Free room and board will be available while making choices for their life in Silver Ridge. Your inquiry will be answered in a timely fashion.

Inez Pollard,

President of The Mail Order Bride Express

***

Hannah finished washing and drying the few dishes it took for her supper. The meal had consisted of the last of the beef stew she made yesterday. It had been tasty, but cooking for one was no fun. Which led her to wonder what they were having for supper at the boarding house in Silver Ridge, Colorado.

Hannah! She shook her head. What was she thinking? It was silly to be drawn to such a fantastic idea. Imagine, leaving everything behind. Why. . . .why, her life was fine. Her life was just the way it should be. Her life was. . .was. . .in truth, her life was lonely. Not lonely enough to consider marriage to Wesley Stout. But maybe enough so to make her consider a drastic plan to take her away from the pesky banker.

The advertisement had mentioned not only marriage, but jobs. She could teach school, or work in an office. Even wash dishes in a restaurant, if it came to that. And it would be her life, one of her own choosing. She had heard rumors of women out west, how they were independent, able to make their own decisions, able to manage their own establishments, run their own ranches, even.

If only I was brave enough to do it, Lord. Give me courage, if it's what You want me to do. After a moment she laughed aloud. What harm could it do to answer? It would be weeks, maybe months before she heard back from this Inez Pollard woman. By that time, it was possible her life would have changed for the better and being a mail order bride would just seem like a passing fancy.

Calm washed over her as she reached for pen and paper. Whatever her future, God had a plan, and He would reveal it in His own time.
Chapter 4

"Good afternoon, Miss Stillman."

Hannah, busy in her own thoughts, came to a halt and looked up into the weasel eyes of Wesley Stout. Short and thick-set, his name fit him well. How had she not noticed him walking toward her on the sidewalk? She forced a slight smile to her lips. "Good afternoon, sir."

He threw back his head and released a raucous laugh. His light blue eyes squinted almost shut, and his large jowls jiggled. "What is all this 'sir' greeting? You know that good friends like us shouldn't be so stilted in our speaking."

Hannah gritted her teeth for an instant. She barely knew the man, aside from a few banking transactions and an occasional meeting on the streets of town. And that was more than she could stand of his company. "We are mere acquaintances, Mr. Stout. Nothing more." She felt her heart sink as his expression changed. He was a man known for his sour temper and she had never before been so brave as to speak to him as she just had.

He leaned in toward her, his hot, stinking breath on her face as he spoke. "We'll just see about that, Miss Stillman. I believe your next mortgage payment is due in another month. And it may interest you to know that your aunt signed an agreement that allows me to demand payment of the balance at any time."

Hannah felt her cheeks blanch. It was true. Her aunt had mentioned it to her on more than one occasion. She forced herself to stand straighter before she spoke. "And are you demanding it now, Mr. Stout?"

A sly smile quivered on his lips. "I believe we may be able to make a satisfactory arrangement. One that could benefit your life and financial situation," he winked. "And you know how much your aunt wanted a pleasing arrangement between the two of us."

She took a deep breath. "I remember no such thing." An involuntary shudder raced down her back. She would rather sleep out on the muddy road, than be any part of this man's life.

His face darkened as he straightened back to his full height. "You can't insult me like this, Hannah Stillman. We will come to an understanding. Or else you will be forced into a life fit for no decent woman."

She swallowed back the bile in her throat as he walked away from her. It was true that her aunt's savings, as well as the small monthly income based on said savings, was shrinking by the month. But the thought of marrying a man like him was just too much to stomach. There had to be another way.

***

Hannah stared at the envelope in her hand. It was white with gold edging and a fancy scroll that ran along the top. When the post master handed it to her late this afternoon, her hand had trembled when she saw the postmark from Colorado. And now, sitting alone at the table, she was going to have to work up the courage to open it. Probably a rejection, she told herself. Surely, there had been so many replies that hers had come too late for any hope of a positive answer.

She brightened for a moment. A cup of coffee; that was what she needed. If she drank a cup of the dark brew, it would give her the courage she needed to open the pretty envelope. Courage to face the fact that she was destined to a life of drudgery, here in this small Missouri town.

An hour later, coffee cold, it was time. She took the letter opener from her small desk and slit the pasted closure. Pulling the paper from its hiding place, she unfolded the pages.

Dear Miss Stillman, I am happy to accept your application to The Mail Order Bride Express. Enclosed, you will find a train ticket to Kansas City. You must arrive at the train station by April 16. I will be there to greet all accepted applicants. We will ride in a private car to Brantley, Colorado, where we will disembark and take a company wagon to the city of Silver Ridge. I am looking forward to meeting you in Kansas City.

Sincerely,

Inez Pollard

Hannah smiled. Thank you, Lord.
Chapter 5

Hannah clutched the handle of her bag, her heart skipping a beat as the train lurched to a stop. For better or worse, she was finally here. She took a deep breath and tried to calm the swarm of bees buzzing in her stomach. It was almost noon and she was to meet Inez Pollard at three o'clock.

The older gentleman that had slept the trip away in the seat next to her was busy gathering his bag and coat. She waited patiently for him to step into the aisle so that she could follow. Once she was off of this train, her new life would begin.

Outside the window, she could see crowds of people on the platform. Ladies in large hats, gentlemen carrying bags, porters pushing large carts of luggage. A little black dog, its hair tangled and dirty, slunk around near one of the doorways wagging a muddy tail whenever someone passed. Probably waiting for people to feed him, she thought, sorry she had only her one sandwich in her bag.

***

Hannah stepped inside of the station and stared at the bustle around her. The high ceiling gave shaded light from the warm sun, and a bit of a cool breeze wafted through the building. The train had been stuffy during the last half hour and she was ready for the wide open space.

Glad to be out of the train, she explored the space for a few moments. A mailing box caught her eye, and she pulled an envelope from her reticule and stared at it, as if she could still see the words that were folded inside. It was a letter to Wesley Stout, informing him that she was turning the house back to the bank. There would be no more payments from her. And, of course, there was no mention of where she was going.

Thankfully, she had found good homes for most of her aunt's nicer things during the last couple of weeks. The bank could do as it liked with what was left in the house.

Finding an empty bench against a side wall, she sat and made herself comfortable. She would eat the sandwich she had packed that morning, then find some cool water at the food counter she had noticed when she first stepped inside.

Another young woman took a seat at the far end of the bench. Hannah nodded and the woman gave a brief smile before she turned her attention to her own wrapped packet of food.

Hannah tried to concentrate on her meal, but her eyes kept drifting to her bench companion. The young woman was dressed in a beautiful blue dress, covered by a traveling duster. The green hat she wore on her head was exquisite, with a thread of embroidery running around the rim and small flowers sewn as edging. The prettiest that Hannah had seen. It made her own look cheap and worn.

Hannah stole another glance in her direction, but the woman was busy eating. Hannah let her eyes drift down to the bag at the woman's feet. The crisp corner of an envelope stuck from the top. An envelope with a gold edge and gold scrolling. Her heart gave a small skip. Could it be possible that this woman. . .? "Excuse me, Miss."

The young woman turned her pretty face more toward Hannah. "Are you speaking to me?"

"I'm sorry, I know it's rude of me, but I couldn't help noticing the part of the envelope that is sticking out of your bag. Is it possible that you are here to meet Mrs. Inez Pollard?"

The girl's beautiful green eyes widened. She folded the paper over what was left of her sandwich. "Yes, I am. Are you Mrs. Pollard?"

A smile broke across Hannah's face. Her wait would be much more pleasant with another Mail Order Bride Express girl. "No, I'm not. But I'm here to meet her, too. And I suspect that there will be more of our group along soon. My name is Hannah Stillman. I'm from Henson, Missouri."

The dark headed woman's lips parted in a genuine smile. "I'm Olivia Barnhart. I'm from Chicago. I've been here at the station for almost two hours." She glanced around the station. "Do you really think there are more of us?"

"There is only one way for us to find out," Hannah grinned, reaching for the handle of her bag. "Why don't we have some lemonade from the refreshment stand in the back. Maybe we will see more women back there."

By the time that Hannah was finished with her lemonade, she knew that Olivia Barnhart was twenty-two, an only child of an elderly clergyman, and was a very skilled milliner. One look at the girl's hat and there was no doubting her abilities.

"And what about marriage? Is that what you want, or would you rather have your own business?"

Olivia smiled and took the last sip of her drink. "I'm hoping to do both. I love making hats, but I want a husband and babies, as well."

Hannah nodded. "I'm hoping to find a husband, too, but if not, I'm able to teach school, or work in an office. I kept the paper work for the local doctor back in Henson."

"I've heard that miners are desperate for wives," Olivia said. "I never thought I would be brave enough to go west, but Inez Pollard's offer seemed too good to pass by."

Hannah nodded. The advertisement had seemed an answer to prayer for herself. And she would soon know if it really was, or if she had let her enthusiasm get the best of her better judgment.

A young woman, wearing a dark calico dress covered by a traveling coat, passed by them, bag in hand. She appeared to be alone. Hannah watched as she went to the counter and ordered a cup of tea. "What do you think?" she smiled at Olivia.

She nodded her auburn head. "I think we should ask her."

***

Soon, there were four at their table. Hannah, Olivia, and two new women, Emma Jasper, and a sad looking girl named Annie Flanagan. Three young women, seated across the room from them pushed back their chairs and stood, attracting Hannah's attention.

"I didn't notice them. Do you think that they are part of our group?" Hannah glanced up at the large clock. Two-thirty.

"It's about time to go to the platform."

"Platform B, if I remember right," Olivia added.

***

Inez Pollard, dressed in blue silk trimmed in lace, was tall and blond. Her dress matched the color of her eyes. Hannah marveled at how young the woman looked. Close up, shaking her hand and introducing herself, she could see that Mrs. Pollard was older than she'd first thought, but still handsome and full of youthful exuberance. And her eyes had a way of holding a person, making them feel as if she was in a private room, talking only to them, despite the group around them. Hannah liked her immediately.

"Good afternoon, ladies," Inez Pollard greeted the group, as they began boarding their car.

Together, there were twenty-five women, Hannah had counted, as she had made her way into the private Pullman railway car. On the outside, they had all seen the letters emblazoned on the side of the car that read Mail Order Bride Express. It seemed odd to know that everyone watching the train go by would know that they were brides headed west.

"I hope everyone can make themselves comfortable," Inez Pollard spoke from the front of the car. "In a few days, you will all be in your new temporary home in Silver Ridge. Once we leave the train, we will ride special wagons that will take us up the mountain to our destination. There will be some discomforts along the way, as there always is with travel, but I think you will all be well pleased, once we are there.

"I am happy that all of you will be staying as guests in my own home, in rooms I had installed especially for you women. Once it is finished, you will all move to a private boarding house in town, built especially for you, and all the women that will, hopefully, come after you. I will tell you right now that the men of Silver Ridge are anxiously looking forward to meeting all of you. Once there, you will have several days to rest, before you begin to determine just what it is you want to do.

"The men that work for the Pollard mines are well paid and are able to support a family on their salary. There are also men that own their own claims, as well as businessmen, loggers, ranchers from the nearby countryside, and other workers. I beg all of you to carefully consider before you make any permanent decisions."

Hannah felt her heart began to race, as she listened to every word. No doubt, there was much to be learned from Inez Pollard.

"And now, we will all make our way to the private dining car that is behind us. We will be having dinner there tonight, as well as breakfast and luncheon tomorrow. But now, we have a nice, relaxing tea waiting for us. And as a special treat, I've brought along my own cinnamon cookies that I serve everyday in my restaurant in Silver Ridge. Miners have been known to walk five miles for one of these cookies, so I hope you enjoy them."
Chapter 6

Hannah took a deep breath and stared up at the mountain before them. Somewhere above was the town of Silver Ridge. Her new home. A new home for all of the women that were there with Mrs. Pollard. It had seemed fun, even an adventure two days ago. But now, with reality staring down at her, fear was beginning to grow inside of her, making her doubt the decision.

But nothing was going to convince her that staying in Henson and marrying Wesley Stout would have been a better decision. She was here, and things would work out somehow.

***

The mountain ride had been steep, and several times, she had joined others in getting out and walking. It had been a relief from the jostling and jerking of the wagon. She had been sure that she would fall asleep the moment they made it into town, but now, with the city in view from their bedroom window, she was wide awake. If she stood on tiptoe, she could see the roof of the boarding house Inez was having built in the town. It would be exclusively for the brides. Other than that, it wasn't much of a view, as far as the emerging city sight. But exactly what she had expected was not clear. The muddy streets, winding like snails through the makeshift buildings, seemed to go on forever. The buildings were new, but had an almost dilapidated air to them, due to their unfinished state.

She watched as tiny figures made their way across the mucky, dirty roads. One man stopped and appeared to be staring down into the mud. Had he lost his boot? It would be possible in that mess.

"What have we done to ourselves?" Annie wondered aloud beside her.

The sad looking girl from the train station had been assigned to the same room as Hannah. What her story was, Hannah hadn't learned, but the girl had barely smiled the entire trip. Maybe Annie would confide in her later, once they knew each other better.

"We're just tired," Hannah announced, trying to put a burst of joy in her voice. Poor Annie had looked so miserable for the past few days, that she felt obligated to try and cheer the girl.

Annie shrugged and turned away from the window. "That's probably true. Still, I guess I expected more. You know, a real town."

Hannah had thought the same. "I guess maybe I did, too. But it wasn't promised to us." She pulled a paper from her luggage and scanned the advertisement. "Mrs. Pollard did say that the town was still in its 'rough stages'."

"Well, she certainly told the truth," Annie agreed her eyes meeting Hannah's.

For a moment they were silent and then both began to laugh. Hannah sat beside her on the bed and they both giggled until there were tears in their eyes.

Annie took a kerchief from her sleeve and wiped her wet eyelids. "I guess I needed that laugh."

"I think we both did," Hannah agreed. "I think it's about time for us to go down and eat. Maybe if we go early, we can help with the preparation. Something to do will take our minds off of the situation."

***

Hannah finished braiding the last bit of Annie's red hair and helped the girl twist it up behind her head. Inserting two very pretty combs, Hannah held a mirror, so that Annie could see her results. The smile on the girl's face was answer enough.

"Thank you so much, Hannah."

"You're very welcome. And thank you for helping me with mine. I think the two of us look very attractive for the dance, tonight."

Annie's smile wavered. "I'm nervous."

Hannah gave a short laugh. "I am, too. Mrs. Pollard told us to be prepared to dance our feet off tonight. She said there would be at least sixty or seventy men at the dance."

"And only twenty-five of us!" Annie exclaimed, shaking her head.

"Mrs. Pollard, I mean Inez, assures us the odds are in our favor. Just think, Annie, we have an opportunity to find a good husband, a man that will really care for us. And who knows, we may be meeting him tonight!"

Annie flushed and held her hand over her stomach. "I'm trying to be happy about all of this, Hannah. It's just. . .I don't know."

Hannah came and sat beside her. "Didn't you want to come out here, Annie? You haven't seemed very happy since we all met in Kansas City."

The girl shook her head. "It was my Pa's idea. You see, there are ten of us. Eight girls. Pa despairs of finding husbands for all of us. He thought this would be my best opportunity."

Hannah patted her hand. Poor Annie. "I'm sorry. I thought you wanted to come." She must feel as if her family had rejected her.

Annie shrugged and pulled her hand away. "I just have to make the best of it."
Chapter 7

Hannah paused on the staircase and stared down at the first floor of Inez Pollard's house. Her breath almost caught at the splendor of it all. The carved cherry wood pocket doors that divided the many rooms had been opened to make space for the large gathering. Several long tables set up around the walls had large bouquets of flowers in glass vases, adding soft pastel and jewel tones to the setting. Multiple lanterns hung from the ceiling, as well as chandeliers of candles that filled the area with a soft, golden glow. The house had been turned into a wonderland of beauty.

Four men were gathered on a makeshift stage at one end, busy tuning up fiddles and guitars. Some of the girls, dressed in their prettiest gowns, were mingling among themselves and talking, as they watched. At that moment, a group of men, laughing and joking, entered the front door.

Hannah, her eyes on the group of girls and their reaction to the newcomers, finished her descent and stepped off of the staircase, into the pathway of a man hurrying by. Grabbing for the railing behind her, she felt herself begin to fall.

She closed her eyes for the impact, but it never came. Two strong arms caught her and pulled her back upright. Her eyelids fluttered and she found herself staring into the chocolate eyes of a very handsome, dark headed man. His furrowed brow and down turned lips told her that he was angry. Not that it marred his striking presence. Her heart swooped to her stomach as she tried to pull her gaze from his. But their eyes were locked.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. "I'm so sorry," she said, her voice barely a whisper, as she managed to stand back on her own two feet. "It was so clumsy of me, and I—"

He broke his eyes from hers. His words were brusque and to the point. "No need to apologize, Miss. . .Miss?"

"Stillman. Hannah Stillman," she answered, her voice still barely audible.

He cleared his throat. "Well, whoever you are, just be careful of where you are going. There's too many women in this house to be able to watch out for all of you." He gave the dark, expensive suit he was wearing, a light brush with his hands, as if she had somehow soiled the fabric. "Excuse me."

He stepped aside and breezed past, as she opened her mouth to reply. "How rude," she whispered, watching him move towards the front door.

"Who was that you were talking to, Hannah?" Annie asked, as she came down the staircase and stood behind her.

"I don't know his name, but he is a very ill-mannered man," Hannah replied, as she watched the figure disappear out the front door of the large house. When Inez Pollard had said the men would be glad to see them, she obviously hadn't meant all of them. Hannah chewed her lip as her eyes strained for another glimpse of the man, now lost to her sight. For some reason, Inez had forgotten to mention what handsome men there were in Silver Ridge.

***

Hannah sipped her third cup of punch. She would drink the entire bowl, if it meant a break from dancing. She had never danced so many reels and waltzes in her life. And it was barely midnight. The dance would go on until at least two a.m. For now, though, the fiddler and guitar players were taking a break. And making the most of their time by visiting with several of the girls.

Hannah edged herself away from the group and found that she was standing next to the long, heavy velvet curtains that spanned two tall windows. It was a nice spot and she was nearly hidden from view. She took a moment and let her eyes scan the room. Whoever the handsome stranger was that had held her in his arms for those few, brief seconds, he had disappeared into the night. She had been watching for him with every dance, but he had failed to reappear.

The expensive clothing he had been wearing was an indication that he was no mine worker. Most of the Pollard Mine employees had arrived in clean, but rather worn clothing. A few appeared to have taken time to make hasty purchases of what new clothing was sold at one of the local mercantile, but most had made do with what they all ready possessed. A few chords of music sounded and she took her cup to the table.

"Excuse me. May I have this dance, Miss?"

Curving her lips into a forced smile, she looked up into the dark eyes of the stranger she had met earlier. Her heart tumbled to her stomach. "I. . .of course, sir."

He gave her a cold smile and led her to the dance floor. His hand was hard on her back, and it seemed to her that he tugged her along a little too fast. Out on the floor, he swung her into his arms and they began to dance.

Hannah kept her eyes straight ahead, which left her looking at his neck. The idea of letting her eyes meet his seemed too personal. And her racing heart was not helping the matter at all. She must be nervous. Nerves. That was all it could be.

The man cleared his throat. "My name is Ross Pollard. I'm Inez's son."

Hannah took a deep breath and looked up into his face. "Oh." Well, that sounded silly. But her mind seemed blank.

"I promised my mother that I would dance with each. . .potential bride."

He made it sound more like a punishment than a pleasure. She felt a tiny spark of anger inside. How dare he patronize all of them like this!

Hannah stopped dancing and pulled away. "Then you are mistaken, Mr. Pollard. I am not a potential bride. I came to Silver Ridge to work, as offered in your mother's advertisement. Excuse me, please."

She brushed past him and made her way to the staircase. She was tired and now she had been insulted. And possibly, she had been rather rude to Inez Pollard's son. But part of her didn't care. It was past one o'clock and she was finished for the night.
Chapter 8

Hannah took a sip of her coffee and stared at the plate of food set before her. The gold swirls of the china seemed almost to move in motion. She blinked and tried to focus. Last night had taken all of her energy. And, back in their room, she and Annie had talked for at least two hours. The dance had wound them up enough to sweep away their sleepiness. But now, five hours later, it was returning with a vengeance.

"Good morning, Ladies!" Inez Pollard's cheery voice greeted them as she entered the room, taking her place at the head of the lace covered table.

"Good morning, Inez," they chorused back.

"I see we all have sleepy eyes," she teased, as she shook open her napkin and placed it in her lap. "I trust you all had a good time last night?"

A ripple of laughter and phrases of assurance sounded through the room.

Hannah bit her lip and refrained from asking if the woman's son had mentioned that one of the brides had been rude to him. It was more her relationship with Inez that worried her. If there was one thing she didn't need, it was another arrogant man in her life. Wesley Stout had been enough to do her for one lifetime.

"I have an announcement and I think that one of our girls has an announcement to make. Is that correct?"

The dark haired girl seated across the table from Hannah stood. She smoothed the red calico dress that she wore. Color rushed to her cheeks, making them almost as dark as her dress. "I'm Charity Wilson. I met a man named Harry Gilt last night. He owns his own tailoring business in the town. My father is a tailor and I was his assistant for years. Mr. Gilt has asked me to be his bride and I've accepted. We will be seeing one another for two weeks, to get to know each other, and then we'll be married in the new chapel they are building in town."

A round of applause and congratulations echoed through the dining room.

So, it had begun. Hannah smiled, but something about agreeing to marry a man she'd met only a few hours before did not set right with her. Perhaps the idea would grow on her. Eventually.

"And now for my announcement," Inez said, standing and looking out over the room of brides. "I have enjoyed having all of you as my guests, up here on the hill, for the past two weeks, but as of tomorrow, you will all be moving to the new boarding house in town, built especially for the Mail Order Bride Express. My dear sister, Lenora Blake, whom all of you have met, will be your sort of 'mother' while you are living there. It is a beautiful home and I hope all of you are comfortable in your new town setting.

***

Hannah shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she waited outside of Inez Pollard's office, located on the first floor of the Mail Order Bride Express Boarding House. Their benefactor had requested a one on one interview with each woman this morning, now that everyone was settled in their new rooms.

Hannah gave a nervous glance at the watch pin on her dress. Her appointment was for ten thirty. A moment later, the door opened and she was escorted inside.

"Just have a seat, dear," Inez said, indicating the chair opposite her side of the desk. She was busy with one of the documents taken from several stacks on the desktop.

Hannah watched as the older woman kept her attention on the papers before her, re-arranging several piles. Hannah felt her stomach begin to churn as events from the dance swam inside of her head. Was Inez going to confront her about the conversation she had had with her son the night of the dance? Maybe she would send her back to Henson. Please, Lord, no. Or maybe she would just scold her for her rudeness.

Not that Ross didn't deserve a reprimand, too. The man was arrogant and bad-mannered. There had been no need for him to assure her that the only reason he was dancing with her was because he made a promise to his mother.

"There now," Inez looked up and smiled. "Let's have some tea and cookies."

The maid that had escorted her into the office poured tea for both of them, then arranged a Blue Willow plate of Inez's famous cinnamon cookies on the desk. "Thank you, Yvonne," Inez smiled at the woman, as she left through a door that led to the back hallway.

Hannah felt a tremble in her hands and decided it would be better to have a bite of a delicious cookie, rather than risk a shaking cup of tea.

Inez took a sip from her own cup and then settled it back in the saucer. "Hannah, I've reviewed your letter several times, looking over your work qualifications. There are a few things available that you might be interested in," Inez said, arranging papers in neat stacks on her desk.

"Thank you, Mrs. . .I mean, Inez. I'm sure whatever you choose for me will be fine." If only her stomach would stop rolling. She'd barely eaten breakfast, hoping that would keep her nerves calm. Maybe she should have done the opposite.

"I see that you helped care for a doctor's patients back in. . .is it Springfield or Henson, Missouri?"

"Henson. It's a small community just outside of Springfield."

Inez nodded. "We have a doctor at the mine headquarters. He could use an assistant to help, especially when there's been an accident. If that isn't satisfactory to you, there is plenty of office work for the mine."

"The office work," she answered at once. That sounded less like men gawking at her all the time. The night of the dance, it had been a bit unnerving to be the focus of so many men's attention. And there must be a lot of work in areas that would be far from Ross Pollard. A man like him must spend a lot of time out at the mines.

Inez nodded and pulled a piece of paper from a folder. "I'll take you over there this afternoon, Hannah. Until then, why don't you get some fresh air and visit with the other girls. And please, send Olivia Barnhart in as you go out. She should be waiting."

In the hallway, Hannah spotted Olivia deep in conversation with Machala Brooks, one of the older women that had come west with them. Hannah walked towards them. "Good morning. She's ready to see you, Olivia," she smiled.

Olivia's smile vanished and she smoothed her light blue skirt. "Wish me luck, please," she said as she headed to the office.

"She's a nervous one," Machala nodded, watching her go. "But she's young and ready for some independence. Me, I just want a husband," she said, her cheeks blooming a soft pink. "I guess you think that's silly at my age."

"Of course it isn't. I'm sure you'll be able to find one soon," Hannah encouraged. With Machala's sweet face and charming ways, finding a husband should be easy for her.

Machala laughed. "The trouble is finding the right one."

The right one, indeed, Hannah thought, as she made her way upstairs to her new room. By this afternoon, she would be dutifully employed by The Pollard Mining Company. Once she was settled in her job, she would have a better chance to consider becoming a wife. Marrying out of desperation had no appeal.

After all, that was why she had left Henson. Just the thought of being married to Wesley Stout sent cold chills down her back. The man was despicable. And, no doubt, if she had stayed in Henson, he would have found a way to make her marry him.

***

"I'm tired!"

Hannah sighed. "Annie, please, just one more stop before we go back home. I really do need some ribbon and a couple of new combs. One of mine broke this morning and I was all ready short one. Look," she pointed. "Brown's Mercantile. Let's go in there."

The inside of the store was dusty, and smelled of pickles and old tobacco. Annie put her hand over her mouth and Hannah shook her head at her. There was no need to insult the proprietor. "This will only take a moment," she assured her friend, making her way to a woman that was working behind the massive oak counter.

After the purchase of two combs and two small packets of ribbon, they were ready to leave.

Hannah glanced at Annie as they approached the door. The girl had refused to talk about her interview with Inez, earlier that morning. Maybe that was what was keeping the sweet, country girl so quiet.

"Come on. If you'd like, I'll buy you a cup of tea," Hannah coaxed, as she opened the door and stepped outside. Her eyes on Annie, she failed to see the gentleman approaching.

As she turned, she ran full force into him, her face buried into the woolen jacket that he wore. Strong fingers wrapped around her elbows and pushed her away.

"I am so sorr. . ." she stopped as her eyes went up to meet those of Ross Pollard.

His dark eyes narrowed and he turned his head a little to the side. "You! I should have known."

"Well, excuse me. I. . .I didn't see you," Hannah said, feeling the heat in her cheeks.

The handsome man shrugged and laughed. "I would expect no less from you. Miss. . .Sternam, isn't it?"

Hannah ignored his mistake and stood a little straighter. "I said that I'm sorry. I don't have eyes in the back of my head, sir."

He grinned. "I sure didn't see any back there when you stepped in front of me." And with one long stride, he was gone, making his way down the sidewalk.

Hannah pushed her tongue against the roof of her mouth. What a rude, arrogant man! If she wasn't a lady, she might just shout something after him. Not that she could think of anything.

"Wasn't that the man from the dance? He looks like someone important," Annie said, her eyes following the man as he made his way through the throng of shoppers.

"That, Annie, is Ross Pollard. He is Inez's son."

Annie sighed. "He sure is nice to look at."

Hannah shrugged. "I suppose. At least he has that to fall back on. His manners are practically non-existant."
Chapter 9

The tour that Inez had given her yesterday at the mining offices had been thorough and a little bit intimidating. She had had no idea how complicated running a mining operation was. If they chose to have her working in the research offices, she would feel totally lost. Please, please let it be something that I'm able to do, Lord, she whispered under her breath as she entered the back door of the building.

She made her way to the small room where she could put her personal belongings.

She would share the space with Miss Bard, secretary to Ross Pollard. He was to be out of town for two days, which suited her fine, after the encounter outside the mercantile yesterday. Inez had sounded apologetic about his absence, and she had spoken with pride about her son and his accomplishments.

"There you are," Miss Bard said, entering the room just as Hannah removed her hat and smoothed her hair. "I've got a desk ready for you, as well as a few booklets for you to study. Just follow me."

They walked past three office doorways. Hannah glanced into the glass windows that looked into the different rooms along the hallway. Through the third office door, she saw the back of a woman, seated at a desk, busy typing. Why had she assumed that the 'brides' would be the only women in town besides those at the saloons?

She shook away her thoughts as Miss Bard stopped at a desk situated in a back corner. "This will be your area, Miss Stillman. You will at first be learning more about the mine and the business transactions we carry out weekly. Eventually, you may work more closely with some of our accountants and sellers. One of your jobs will be delivering documents between offices. You'll soon learn our routine and fit in nicely, I'm sure."

"Thank you." Hannah nodded and took a seat at the desk Miss Bard indicated. It was a well worn piece of furniture, but had been cleaned and polished to a satin shine. She opened the drawer and found an ample supply of paper and ink, along with several sharpened pencils. A new model typewriter took most of the space on the top.

"These are the books you are to study." Miss Bard indicated two blue-backed notebooks stacked to the side of the machine. "They will help give you some of the knowledge you need about the mine."

"I'll begin at once," Hannah smiled.

Miss Bard nodded her approval and headed back down the hallway.

Hannah stared around her small space. It might be a bit lonely back in her corner, but at least the job sounded like something she could do. And, she would not have as much of a chance of meeting with Ross Pollard, other than possibly handing him a paper or two. And, with luck, he wouldn't even notice who she was.

***

The week passed quickly and she soon began to feel like part of the office. She was now friends with Miss Bard, called Polly, and also an older woman named Marie Salon. Marie worked exclusively with Mr. Pollard's assistant, Darin Colden. Hannah saw her briefly at the noon break each day, and during the times she delivered paperwork to Mr. Colden's office.

Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was nearly four o'clock. Time to gather her things and head back to the boarding house. By five-thirty, there would be a hot dinner waiting for her, and good company with what was left of the twenty-five women that had come west. As of this morning, two of them had married, and one poor girl, too homesick to stay, had gone back home to Indiana.

***

In the employees' meal and coffee room, Hannah adjusted her hat and checked her hair, before taking up her reticule and heading out the door. It was still summer, but the air was cool in the evenings on her walk home. She would soon need to bring her shawl to work. And the thought of the winter morning walks to the mine office sent early shivers through her. But Inez had assured all of them that the cold was something they would get used to. Much as she trusted her friend, Hannah wasn't too sure about that.

The boarding house was quiet when she stepped inside, her footsteps echoing on the polished golden oak floor. She was almost to the staircase when a voice stopped her.

"Hannah?"

She turned to see Olivia Barnhart, the dark headed girl she had first met at the Kansas City station, coming toward her, an envelope in her hand. "You have a letter from home. The postmaster offered to let me bring it when I checked for mail this morning."

From home? Had some of the ladies at the doctor's house written to her again? She had received a letter sent from them only a few days ago. She reached out and took the item. "Thank you, Olivia."

"It was no trouble." The girl smiled, as she headed into the library.

She gave the letter a glance, then put it into her reticule and began the climb to her room. Reading anything from Henson should be done in private. As much as she was beginning to love her life here in Silver Ridge, she still felt an occasional twinge of homesickness. And the ladies back home knew just how to bring it out in her, too, she grinned.

But why had they written so soon? Surely they had not received her last correspondence. The mail between Pollard and Henson was uncertain, sometimes taking two weeks, or so, as the letters went by train to Kansas City, then down to Springfield. Other times, it could take as long as a month. And she had heard that winter, fast approaching, usually put the mail to a stop for several months if the snows were heavy in Colorado.

The climb seemed shorter and faster than usual as she sprinted to her third floor room. Inside the private space she shared with Annie, she removed her hat and stored it inside of the oak trunk at the foot of the bed. Though the rooms were small, Inez had been kind enough to provide adequate storage for them.

Sitting on the bed, she sighed and opened the drawer of the small table next to her. Taking out the letter opener, she slid it under the flap and pulled out the letter.

Dear Hannah,

We are praying that this letter reaches you in time. This concerns the matter of Wesley Stout. He was very upset when he found that you had left town. Eventually, through your correspondence, he discovered that you had gone to Kansas City. He traveled there and stayed for a few days. While there, he found your name had been on a passenger list for the Mail Order Bride Express.

After his affairs were in order, he left Henson in early July. Before his departure, he expressed great sorrow among the townspeople at your leaving as you did, hinting that you had agreed to marry him and then deserted him. We are sad to say that he was able to gain much sympathy from some of the people in the community.

There is no need to worry that we have believed such nonsense. It is plain to all of us what a scoundrel he is.

As your dear friends, we felt we ought to warn you of the possibility he may be on his way to Silver Ridge. We are sending our prayers ahead of this letter.

Much love,

Matilda Makins and Gloria Potts

Unable to breathe, her hands went to her throat. After a few seconds, she managed a gulp of air. Her heart sank as she swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat. How could he have found her destination? He had been gone from Henson long enough to all ready be in town. She would have to keep her eyes open for that possibility.

She grit her teeth and let her shock slowly melt into anger. It was just like the snake of a man to insinuate that she had loved him and then left him. What he hoped to gain by finding her was a mystery. Surely he had no hopes that she would agree to marry him, if he dare come and find her. He would be sorry he had wasted his time coming out there, if that was his destination. She would send him on his way in no time.

At least, that was the plan. The ripple of fear that stirred inside of her could be ignored. At least for another day or two. She needed time to make plans on how to handle any situation that involved him.
Chapter 10

Dawn came too soon. Hannah rubbed her eyes and shivered as she splashed cold water on her face. It would be only a few months before there would be ice in the pitcher each morning. She dried her cheeks with the soft cotton towel and took a good look in the mirror. She sighed. It seemed just knowing that Wesley Stout might be on his way to town had aged her.

After she dressed, she left Annie quietly sleeping, and headed downstairs, hoping to see Inez, if she came to her office early. She would know what to do about the situation. The dining room was empty when she entered. Going to the buffet at the side, she poured herself a cup of coffee and took a seat. There was nothing to do but wait. And if others came in before Inez arrived, she would not be able to talk to her without spreading her own trouble through the entire house.

After four other women arrived, their voices cheery in the early morning, and still no Inez, she finished her coffee and a piece of toasted bread. Even the jam was tasteless this morning. But no matter, it was possible that she still had another week or so before the man showed up in town.

Outside, the air was damp and cold. She wrapped her shawl tighter and hurried her footsteps down the road, churned and rutted from the constant wagon traffic. She crossed over on a length of boards that had been laid across for walking, careful not to sink down and get her shoes dirty. Mr. Pollard disapproved of any untidiness. Which seemed ridiculous, considering the circumstances of the town.

***

Inside, she dawdled over removing her hat and shawl. With the news of Wesley Stout, she had no enthusiasm for her job. She jumped as the door burst open, slamming against the wall behind.

Marie Salon hurried into the room, excitement in her eyes. "Mr. Pollard wants to see you, Hannah! Polly is gone. She ran off with a mine manager from the Devon Mine Company!"

Hannah took a slow breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Polly Bard? She seemed so cool and detached from everyone. Running away to marry seemed like something she would have waved away as too impractical. "Are you sure?"

Marie nodded, a smile taking over her lips. "Everyone is talking about it. And Mr. Pollard is furious!"

Wonderful. He wanted to see her and he was irate. Seeing her face to face might make him even more upset. She had managed to avoid him the last week, aside from a few 'good mornings' and 'hello, how are you' formalities. Not that he probably remembered her from the dance, or the incident on the boardwalk. At least, she hoped not.

Hannah turned and stared at the back door. All she had to do was put on her shawl and hat, bolt out that door, catch a ride down the mountain and she could catch a train to. . .to San Francisco, maybe. Or she could head back east, or. . .

"Hannah? Are you coming?"

She took a deep breath and smiled at Marie. "Yes. I'm on my way to his office right now."

"Just go on in when you get there," Marie advised.

Hannah paused outside his door, staring at the beautiful cherry wood carving that framed the frosted glass. He would be there at his desk, even now, waiting. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped inside. He was seated behind a massive oak desk. Two large red velvet curtains draped the windows behind him. He was already staring at the door when it opened. Expecting her, no doubt. He stood.

"So. . .we meet again," Ross Pollard said, as she took the seat he indicated. "The bride that doesn't intend to be a bride. The woman with no eyes in the back of her head."

She swallowed back an irritated reply at his mocking tone. He did remember her. That was unfortunate. But there was no need rehashing what had happened before. "Miss Salon said you wanted to see me."

His eyebrows arched at her change of subject. The expression suited him, widening his beautiful, dark eyes, coal black in the dim light of the office lamps. Her heart flipped in her chest. Nothing but nervousness, she assured herself.

His eyes settled on her face. "I assume that she told you about the situation with Miss Bard?"

Hannah heard the annoyance in his voice. Ignoring it, she nodded. She was tempted to say "and good for her, too," but it would only serve to irritate him more, and that might be best avoided right now.

Ross sat and leaned back in his dark leather chair, hands folded over his flat stomach. He studied her face. "I need an assistant, Miss Stillman. Someone to help keep this business going. Do you think you can do the job?"

"I. . ." was he serious? "I'm not sure, sir. I haven't ever done anything like that before."

He sat up straight and reached and pulled a piece of paper from his desk. "According to this, you used to do paper work for a doctor and practically ran his office and boarding house. Is that true?"

True? Hannah bristled. Did he think she lied on her application? "Yes, it is true."

He smiled. "I didn't mean to make it sound like an accusation. I was just checking with you."

Feeling her cheeks begin to heat, Hannah forced herself to relax. "No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. I mean, I understand." If she didn't stop blabbering he would think she didn't have a brain in her head.

Amusement danced across his handsome face. "I really don't have any choice in the matter, Miss Stillman. There are investors coming, and I need all the help I can get to prepare for them. It might be longer hours than usual. Do you think you're able to handle all of the extra work?"

She sat straighter and pushed down the fear that threatened to overtake her thinking. "Yes, sir. I think that I am."

He nodded. "There will be a substantial pay raise, of course."

She nodded. "Thank you, sir."

He laughed and stood. "No thanks needed. Believe me, you will earn every penny of it."

Hannah stood and glanced around the office. "What would you like me to do first, sir?"

He smiled. "Get your things and move to your new desk. We'll discuss more after the noon break."
Chapter 11

Hannah sighed and shook her fingers, attempting to get rid of the numbness. She had never seen so much correspondence. Ross Pollard would do well to hire someone for the sole purpose of writing letters.

"Are you ready, Miss Stillman?"

She looked up at her boss of one week. As usual, her heart skipped a beat or two. Why did the man make her so nervous? "Yes, sir. I'll only be a moment. And I have the papers ready." She indicated the leather satchel on the desk.

He nodded and picked up the leather case. "I'll be waiting by the wagon outside the back door. Take your time. But not too long." He laughed, his smile sending her heart spinning.

***

Hannah hurriedly donned her old blue skirt, then sat and changed to her worn out boots. Mr. Pollard had warned her that she needn't wear anything nice into the mines. They would be there several hours. Something she was not looking forward to. Damp and dark, it made her shiver just thinking about it.

Outside, he offered his hand to help her in the wagon. She enjoyed the feel of his strong fingers on hers, holding her hand tight and secure. Her cheeks warmed at the thought and she looked away, letting the wind cool her face.

As soon as she was settled, he pulled himself up beside her. Surprise swam through her as she realized that he was going to drive the wagon to the mine. Maybe her assessment of him had been wrong. She had seen him as rich and arrogant, thinking himself superior to others.

"We have a few stops to make before heading out to the mine," he told her, urging the horses to pick up their pace. He turned them toward the downtown area and they soon fell in line with a column of wagons making their way through Silver Ridge.

He pulled the wagon to the side of the road in front of Haley's Mercantile. "You may accompany me inside, or wait in the wagon, Miss Stillman."

Not wanting to stay in view for the gawking miners that passed, she hurriedly made ready to scramble down, only to find his large, warm hand held out to her. She took it and lighted from the bulky structure.

Inside, odors of tobacco, baking bread, and onions tickled her nose. Two older men sat in rockers near the stove in the middle of the room, their eyes closed, as if they were sleeping the morning away. Two others, still wearing their dust covered mine clothes, sat hunched over a checker board situated on a small table. "Gotcha!" one declared as he removed a checker from the board.

"Good morning, Mr. Pollard," James Haley greeted Ross.

Hannah turned and smiled, acknowledging the man's nod in her direction.

"I guess you're here for your order?"

"That's correct," Ross Pollard answered. "Were you able to find any oranges?"

"I managed to get four. They're in a small bag on top of the groceries."

"Many thanks, James," Ross Pollard nodded.

"I'll have my clerk load them for you. You have a good day, Mr. Pollard."

Hannah took his hand as he assisted her back in the wagon. Her eyes strayed across the box of food that had been stowed in the back. Did he always pick up his groceries when he was on business outings?

He came around and pulled himself up onto the wagon seat. His eyes followed hers to the box in the back. "We're making a stop at Verna Grady's house." He urged the horses forward. "She's the widow of Rob Grady. He was killed in a mine explosion last year. The two of them were already getting up in years. They'd lost everything they had back in the war, so they came out here to try and make a new start. Verna's all alone now and has nowhere to go," he explained.

Hannah stared at his profile. All the arrogance and haughtiness was gone while he had related the story. There was no doubt in her mind that he truly cared about this poor widow woman they were about to visit. She was seeing a side of Ross Pollard that she hadn't known existed. Maybe there was more to the man than just his money and a handsome face.

***

The home of Verna Grady was small and neat, the front covered with white washed boards. A railing framed the front of the small porch. It was a pretty sight set back on a hillside on the edge of town. At least the woman's husband had left her with a decent home, Hannah thought, taking Ross's hand to light from the wagon. Ross opened the tailgate of the wagon and pulled the box forward, hoisting it into his strong arms.

"Go ahead and open the door when we get up on the porch. She's expecting us," he explained to Hannah's questioning look.

Inside the small home, Hannah strained her eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness that filled the tiny space. The air was stuffy and smelled of bacon grease and cabbage.

"Good morning, Verna!" Ross called loudly as they stepped inside.

The small, white-haired woman, seated in a very old rocker padded with worn pillows, turned her shaky head toward them. Hannah realized in a second that the woman was blind.

"Is that you, Ross?"

"Sure is. And I've brought someone along with me. Hannah, this is Verna Grady, a very dear friend. Verna, this is my new assistant, Hannah Stillman."

Verna, stiff and slow, was working her way out of her chair. "It's so nice to meet you, Miss Stillman," she said, holding her hand in front of her.

Hannah grasped the gnarled fingers of the woman, careful not to squeeze too hard. "It's so nice to meet you, Mrs. Grady. Please, call me Hannah."

A smile crossed the older woman's face. "And you call me Verna. I don't get many visitors, except for Ross and Inez. You're welcome to come any time."

"I'll remember that," Hannah nodded. And she would. Just talking to Mrs. Grady was stirring up memories of the ladies back in Henson. Until this moment, she hadn't realized how much she had missed them. A friendship with Verna might help fill the hole in her life that the ladies' absence had left.

After a short visit with the woman, which included Hannah putting away the food with Verna directing her, and promising to come back soon, they were on their way back down the hill. Before the turn into Main Street, Ross guided the horses to Tree Top Lane, pulling the wagon to a halt in front of the Silver Ridge Infirmary.

"There is an injured miner in here that I need to visit," he explained as he helped her from the wagon. "He was bruised quite badly from a fall, and also broke his right leg."

Hannah hurried behind him, stopping briefly to pick a few yellow wildflowers that bloomed near the edge of the parking area. As she picked them, she saw an abandoned tin can, and took it, as well. Nothing cheered the bedridden more than a nice bit of the outdoors. Just the thought of being shut away in a stuffy hospital sent a shiver down her spine.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pollard, but Jim Ward was released yesterday." The woman, carrying a basket of clean laundry, set it on the front desk and began to look through the book that lay open. "His wife is taking care of him at home, it says here by his release."

"Well, that is good news," he nodded to the woman.

Hannah, wildflowers still in hand, walked over to a table pulled close to the bed of a sleeping man. Pouring a small stream of water from the pitcher on his bedside into the can, she left the small bouquet for him. It would be a surprise for him when he woke.

"That was a kind thing to do, Miss Stillman," Ross Pollard commented, as he guided the wagon back onto the road.

She shrugged. "Everyone needs a little cheering up, especially when they are sick."

"Still, it was very thoughtful of you. Especially for someone you don't know."

Hannah settled into the seat and thought over his words. It was almost as if he, well, admired her for her gesture. Or liked her. Was it possible? He had seemed so distant and aloof when they first met, but after this morning's activities. . .

Today had changed the way she thought about him, that was for sure. She had never considered that a man, seemingly so absorbed with his own business plans, would take time out from his day to visit an elderly woman, or a miner in the hospital.

"Are we going to Mr. Ward's home?" she asked, curiosity winning out over her will to remain silent.

He shook his head and urged the horses to pick up some speed. "Not today. I'm sure he's doing better now that he's home."

***

"Whoa!" Ross Pollard shouted to the horses as they approached the flat area out in front of two different mine shafts. Several more wagons were parked in the area. Miners, busy with their jobs were walking in and out of both entrances. Three men were busy loading one of the large freight wagons with bags of ore, ready for shipping down to the valley.

"Good morning, Mr. Monday," Ross Pollard greeted the man that stepped from the mine entrance on the left and approached them.

Hannah remembered the man's name from several papers she had inside the satchel. He was the mine manager of this section.

Middle-aged, he was dressed in dark, rough clothing. The gray felt hat on his head appeared to be expensive, but it had seen better days. His brown hair, mingled with gray, showed beneath the brim. A slight limp slowed his walk as he made his way to them. His otherwise friendly face had a worried expression as he noticed her.

"Hannah Stillman, this is Jed Monday, manager of this section," Ross told her. "Miss Stillman is my secretary," he informed Jed.

"Nice to meet you, Miss," the older man nodded to her, then glanced at her boss.

"Let's go on inside," Ross Pollard said, motioning for her to follow.

The miner stopped abruptly and stared at her. "This new crew we've got working will not like it much if you take her inside," he warned.

Ross Pollard's expression sobered and he turned to look at her. "Would you mind waiting out here, Miss Stillman? Some of the men feel that a woman inside of a mine is bad luck."

Hannah stared. "Bad luck?"

He laughed. "It's just a superstition. Still...they can take it very seriously, and...."

She shook her head. "It's fine. I'll wait by the wagon," she said, turning away. It was a strange feeling to think that anyone would consider her presence as bad luck. The fact that she hadn't wanted to go inside saved her from feeling offended. This superstition was one aspect of mining that she had never heard about. If miners were prone to superstitions, it would be best for Mr. Pollard to inform her about them.

The morning was pleasant and the sun was warm on her face. She knew there should be plenty of time for a short walk. Making her way up a small bank of grass, she let her eyes drift to the mountains that surrounded the area. The scenery was nothing like the hills of Missouri. These mountains were taller, sharper, and snow covered on some of the peaks, despite the summer air. Something about them settled a feeling of strength and courage on her shoulders. It was no wonder so many loved this area, so far removed from the east. She had only been there a short time, but it all ready had its hold on her.

Walking further from the mine entrance, she headed toward a rocky outcrop that would let her look over the green valley below. Looking below, her eyes spotted a few structures, tiny from this height, on the ranches that had sprung up the last few years. Inez had said the ranchers wanted wives, too. Ranch life sounded like something she might like, but working in the mine office made it doubtful that she'd be meeting any ranchers.

Her ears caught the sound of wheels crunching on the rough road, and she turned. Two gentlemen were pulling up beside their wagon, and then past, parking closer to the entrance on the right.

As they stepped down from the wagon, Hannah felt her breath catch. There was no mistaking the driver. It was Wesley Stout. He was the one man she hoped never to see again. She looked down as he cast a glance her way. When she risked looking up, her heart all but stopped. He was walking towards her!

Panic rushed through her and she began walking toward the entrance on the left. Wherever Ross Pollard was, she was going to find him. What she would say to him, she wasn't sure. It only took a moment to realize that the banker was changing his direction, as well. He was going to follow her into the mine.

Hannah hitched up her skirts and forced her feet to walk even faster. Pushing her way past two men carrying sacks, she had barely stepped across the entrance when she ran head on into the man she was rushing to find.

"Miss Stillman! I thought I told you to wait outside," he exclaimed, glancing around to see what men had watched her enter the mine.

Resisting the urge to hold on to him, she forced herself to step back. "I know. I'm sorry, sir, it's just," she turned and looked behind her. Wesley Stout was gone, nowhere to be seen. "I mean. . ."

His jaw tightened as he all but pushed her in front of him and outside of the mine. "We'll talk about it later. Go stand by the wagon, Miss Stillman."

***

Hannah felt a coldness creep inside as they pulled away from the mine. There was no doubt that Ross Pollard was upset with her. "Sir, I'm sorry about running inside. You see, there was. . .I thought. . ."

"There's no need to explain, Miss Stillman. What's done is done. I'll deal with the men later. I'll offer them a little bit more money and I won't have any trouble with them walking out on me," he half-grinned.

Hannah felt her heart sink. She had not meant to cause trouble. And now it sounded as if she had cost him a good deal of money. "Please just put my salary back to the original one I had when I first came, sir. I didn't mean to cause you so much grief."

Ross Pollard stared straight ahead and ignored her statement.

Hannah clutched tighter to the side of the wagon. Pollard's friendly manner from earlier in the morning had disappeared. Getting back to town appeared to be the single thing on his mind. He hadn't even taken time to check on the rest of the work operation in the mine. Which was sure to mean another trip back, once this situation was handled.

Back in town, he shut himself away in his office, ordering her that he would abide no interruptions during the afternoon, except for that of Michael Devon, owner of the Devon Mining Company. Hannah brought her sandwich to her desk, to make sure that no one tried to enter his office.

If nothing else, the quiet time would give her time to reflect a bit more on the letter from Henson. She should prepare herself for the possibility that Wesley Stout might be looking for her. She was more than sure that he had been the man at the mine this morning.

If he came to the house, Inez would see that he was not allowed to enter. But if he found out where she was employed, things might be different. And how could she explain the situation to Ross Pollard?

Her best hope was that Wesley Stout had taken the Mail Order Bride Express advertisement seriously and assumed that she was now married. If so, he might be in Silver Ridge for mining business, not for her.

Mr. Devon arrived at two o'clock and she promptly showed him into her boss's office. After that she sat quietly at her desk, glad for only a murmur of voices from the two men. They seemed to be settling everything peacefully.

***

At four o'clock, Michael Devon took his leave and Ross Pollard emerged from his private office, his face with the same expression he had worn all the way back down the mountain. Hannah nodded, but averted her eyes.

"I will expect you to accompany me to a private dinner given by a potential investor tomorrow night, Miss Stillman. It will be at the Silver House Hotel. I will pick you up at six o'clock in front of the boarding house. You may have tomorrow off to give yourself time to get ready."

She stared after him as he turned and re-entered his office. Had it been an order, or an invitation that the man had just issued? Whichever it was, it appeared that she would be having dinner with him tomorrow night.
Chapter 12

"There's just not much to choose from," Olivia sighed, her fingers smoothing the blue fabric of a dress on display.

Hannah nodded. They had spent the morning in the only two shops in town that offered any sort of women's apparel, and the selection was almost non-existent. But what could you expect from a store that sold canned goods and hardware a few aisles over from a small rack of ready made dresses?

The only dress she had tried on that had fit properly had been red with black piping. It was pretty, but didn't seem appropriate for the dinner tonight. What was she going to do? She could hardly appear in her everyday work clothes. There would be a lot of people at that dinner. Wealthy people wearing nice clothing. She had to at least be presentable and not an embarrassment to Ross Pollard.

Olivia looped her arm through Hannah's, drawing her from her thoughts. "Let's go have a cup of coffee and then we'll make a decision on what to do about the dress."

"That sounds like a good idea," Hannah agreed, glad to be stepping back out in the sunshine and fresh, mountain air. She took a deep breath and smiled. There might be a rough winter ahead, so she was going to enjoy the nice weather while she could.

She glanced across the street and her heart froze. There he was. Again. She had not been mistaken up on that mountain, nor had she imagined she saw him. Wesley Stout was in Silver Ridge.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," Hannah shook her head, her heart still pounding. "I thought I saw someone I used to know." Whoever the man had been, he had disappeared through the doors of the Swan Saloon.

Olivia raised her hand and shaded her eyes to look on Hannah's face. "Someone you'd rather not see, I take it?"

Hannah nodded and took Olivia's arm, hurrying them toward Inez's restaurant on down the road.

Inside, seated at a table, Hannah leaned across to Olivia. "I've had a letter from back home. It seems a gentleman. . .well, a man that used to follow me around, has left town. The ladies that wrote me were afraid he might be coming out here."

"And I take it that you are not interested in seeing him?" Olivia asked, thanking the waitress for their coffee.

Hannah shook her head. "He managed to convince some of the people in Henson that I had agreed to marry him, then ran away. I don't ever want to see him again, Olivia!"

"Oh, Hannah. He could be dangerous! What can I do to help you?"

Hannah shrugged and stared out at the people walking down the sidewalk. "I don't know. I'm just hoping we won't ever meet face to face."

***

"I think I'll be going as his secretary. Do you suppose that means I will need to be taking notes?" Hannah asked anxiously, the question addressed to no one in particular in the room full of young women.

"I wouldn't think so," Olivia said, her words muffled due to a mouth full of pins.

"It sounds ridiculous to me," Pauline shook her head, busy sewing a stitch on the length of lace that ran along the bottom of the petticoat she held. "I mean, a dinner out is more like. . .like. . ."

"Like he's sparking her," Annie contributed, a wide smile on her freckled face.

Her statement was met with a room full of giggles and nods.

Hannah wished that she could laugh. But her stomach rolled like water in a stormy sea, with no end of the squall in sight. A few more minutes of standing still for Olivia's pinning on her skirt hem, and her knees were bound to buckle beneath her.
Chapter 13

Just outside the door of the hotel, they stopped and he turned to her. He cleared his throat. "Miss Stillman? Would you mind, if just for tonight, I called you Hannah and you called me Ross?"

Hannah blinked and stared into his face. What an odd request. Was it possible that Ross Pollard had had no one else to ask? That she was truly there as his dining partner and not his secretary? "I. . .whatever you would like, Mr. . .I mean, Ross," she managed.

He smiled. "Thank you. Hannah."

Her heart still spinning from his attention, she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and held tight as they walked inside the Silver House Hotel. Directly ahead was a set of wide, carpeted stairs to the lobby that they stepped down. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the opulence of the newly built hotel. Italian tile covered the floor and three large chandeliers lit the enormous space, their bright light glittering off of the gold flocked wallpaper and gleaming cherry wood trim that decorated the room.

A tall man in an immaculate suit directed them to double doors that led to the private lounge and dining room in which they would eat. Opening the doors for them, he stood back as they passed inside.

Hannah clinched her jaw to keep it from dropping. She had never seen so many elegant women in town before. Ladies in beautiful dresses, their hair swept on top of their heads, beautiful jewels on their necks. She swallowed back a pang of inadequacy as they joined the crowd of diners, standing and talking, at the moment. At least she had agreed to borrow the necklace that Olivia had tried to loan to her. Not as expensive as some, it would serve its purpose tonight.

She straightened her shoulders. It would not matter that the jewelry wasn't extravagant. Ross Pollard would introduce her as his secretary. No one would expect her to own expensive jewelry.

"Hello, Pollard!" a gentleman across the room called.

Her hand still on his arm, she was pulled along with him. "Good evening, Phil," Ross greeted him, offering his hand.

The man returned the greeting and then let his eyes fall to Hannah. "And who is this?"

"May I present Miss Hannah Stillman," Ross said. "Hannah, this is Phillip Moore. He owns the Black Rock mines south of town."

She blinked and looked up at him. Where was the 'my secretary' part of the introduction?

"Very nice to meet you, Miss Stillman," the man greeted her.

Hannah smiled and gave a slight curtsy. "You, too, sir." She released her hand from Ross's arm and stood next to him, listening to the mining talk between himself and his competitor.

She spotted Inez across the room, her hand on the arm of a handsome, white-headed gentleman. Inez saw her and smiled. Hannah had a hard time drawing her eyes away. She had never thought of Inez with a social life. The woman always seemed to be busy doing for others. It was nice to see her in such a setting as the one tonight. Not that it wasn't business for her, as well as Ross. Inez had a half interest in the Pollard Mining Company.

A waiter carrying a tray, stopped and offered the three of them champagne. Hannah took a glass. She had never cared for alcohol, but holding the glass gave her something to do with her hand. She carried it with her as she followed Ross around the room.

The double doors had swung to admit guests several times since their arrival, but when they opened this time, everything changed. Two gentlemen and a lady entered. The lady's hand was on the arm of a perfectly dressed older man, his sparse gray hair neatly combed. The other man, standing alone inside the doorway, was Wesley Stout.
Chapter 14

The champagne glass slipped from Hannah's hand and splintered across the beautiful tile floor. She choked on the emotion in her throat as she quickly turned her face away from the doorway. She gasped. "I'm so. . .sorry," she said, her eyes on Ross's surprised face.

A waiter appeared immediately. "Nothing to worry over, miss." He smiled, bending down and gathering the shards with his gloved hand.

"Why don't we stand over here, Hannah," Ross said, his mouth close to her ear as he guided her away from the sharp splinters of glass. "And don't be upset. Things like this happen all the time. Did you get any on your dress?"

Her dress? Olivia's dress! "Did I get any on you? I don't—" A woman's voice sounded in her ear.

"Come with me, Hannah. I'll help you clean your dress."

She looked up into Inez's sky blue eyes. An anxious smile showed her concern as Hannah followed her from the room.

"There. I think that got all of it off," she said with a last damp pat. "And I don't think there will be any stain showing on the dress," Inez assured her, putting away the cloth that a maid had brought to them. She looked around the room. "Now, how about we take a seat for a few moments?" She indicated the small sofa located across from them.

Hannah, feeling a bit more composed, agreed. The longer she could put off going back in that room with Wesley Stout, the better. Her mind was still spinning with possibilities of how she was going to handle the situation, once he spotted her. It seemed a dim hope to think she could escape his notice.

Settled on the sofa, Inez came right to the point. "Now, tell me just who that man is that came through those doors before you dropped the glass."

Hannah tried to swallow, but found her mouth dry as a windswept hill. Voice shaking, she explained. She ended the account with the one thing she'd been counting on. "I guess I just hoped that the ladies back home were wrong and that he would never show up."

Inez leaned back and sighed. "I can see that he could be a problem. I take it that you have no romantic feelings for him?"

Hannah's jaw dropped. "No! I've never even liked him."

Inez's eyes crinkled as she laughed at her response. She patted her hand. "You've convinced me."

Back in the company of the crowd, they were soon seated at the long dining table. Hannah found herself to the right of Inez and across from Ross. On her left side was an older gentleman, deep in conversation with the woman on his right.

Hannah allowed her eyes to wander up and down the table. Wesley Stout was seated near the head of the table with the other investors.

After a delicious dinner that included lobster and salad, they were served delicate cakes and fruit. Hannah enjoyed most of it, and kept her eyes from wandering to the far end of the table where Wesley Stout and his business partner were seated.

When everyone was finished, the ladies were excused to a sitting lounge for coffee, while the gentlemen stayed behind for drinks, and to hear Mr. Blank and Wesley Stout discuss investing business.

Inside the lounge, Hannah seated herself in a padded chair, grateful for the comfort and the fact that the banker was not in the same room with her. She longed to be in her own room, fast asleep in her bed, but there was probably another hour, or more, before she would be headed home.

***

"Did you enjoy the evening, Miss. . .Ha. . .Stillman?" Ross asked, as he guided the carriage away from the front of the hotel.

She smiled at his hesitancy. "Yes, I did. I enjoyed it." Except for the unexpected appearance of Wesley Stout. "And you may call me Hannah, if you wish."

He nodded. "I'd like that. And please, call me Ross. Except. . ."

"At the office?" she asked.

He nodded. "I think it would be best."

She agreed. But when else would she see him? There would only be so many of these investor's dinners. There would be other dinners, she was sure. But was a fill-in escort all she would ever be to him?

He cleared his throat. "My mother and I are sole owners of the mine, at this time. But, we have recently discussed selling a small amount of shares. It would add to our revenue and help with some of the equipment we need to purchase. I'll be talking with Mr. Blank and Mr. Stout sometime this week. May I ask your opinion of the venture?"

She stared at his profile; his expression seemed serious. "My opinion?" She knew nothing about mining, or business, in general. "I'm sorry, Mr. . .I mean, Ross, but I'm afraid that I don't have any knowledge of the mining business, other than what I've learned in the last few weeks."

He laughed and nodded, taking his eyes from the street for a moment. "I know. Sometimes I just like to hear what others have to say. To be truthful, I'm not sure I really took to Mr. Blank and Mr. Stout tonight. Something about them struck me as a little off key, if you understand?"  
She nodded. She knew nothing of Mr. Blank, but everything within her told her that Stout was not trustworthy. It wasn't that he'd ever done anything illegal, that she knew of, but something about him had always made her skin crawl. If she had a brave bone in her body, she would tell Ross the truth about Wesley Stout. But she all but shrank away from him at the idea.

Her mind went back to dinner tonight. The way Wesley Stout had stared at her whenever she looked his way...she grimaced. The evening would have been perfect, if he hadn't come to the dinner. And how could she ever make Ross understand how she felt about the man?

A cold chill ran through her. Suppose Wesley Stout started telling his lies about her around Silver Ridge? Would all of her friends believe them? More important, would Ross Pollard believe them?
Chapter 15

Hannah stared at the large clock above the mantle in her small office. Seven o'clock. Michael Devon had been in Ross's office for almost four hours. She had heard no loud conversations, so she assumed that the visit was friendly and the men had come to terms concerning the blasting in the mine she and Ross had visited a few weeks back. This was Devon's third trip to the office and Ross had seemed fine after the first two.

At that moment, the door opened and both men appeared. "Thank you, Devon. I knew we could work it out," Ross said offering a handshake as the man exited the room.

He turned his eyes to her. "Hannah! I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were still here."

Something had changed in their relationship after the investor's dinner a few weeks ago. He had been kind, considerate, and friendly.

She smiled. "I'm fine. I just wanted to wait and see if you needed anything else." The man looked tired. He worked too hard. He needed time away from the business to just enjoy himself.

He shook his head and stifled a yawn. "I'll have Thad walk you home."

Thad, one of the night guards, had come on duty only an hour ago. "There's no need. You know it's safe for a woman on the streets of Silver Ridge, even at night. I'll be fine. Really."

His dark brow crinkled. "If you're sure. . ."

"I'm positive. Now, you'd better wrap things up in your office. You have an appointment with a Mr. Harbor at eight o'clock in the morning."

He nodded. "I'll remember."

***

The weeks began to fly by. Summer was over and fall would be short-lived, according to Inez. "It won't be long before the snows are here," she had warned all of them at breakfast yesterday.

Hannah sighed. She had come to love Silver Ridge. Her life was so much easier settled into the boarding house. And working for Ross. She blushed to realize that she never thought of him as 'Mr. Pollard'. It was easy to talk and laugh with him. And tonight, there was another investor's dinner at the Silver House Hotel. This would be the third that she had attended with him. Her heart gave a small leap as she thought of dancing with him. Would he notice her new dress that she would be wearing? It was special ordered and made by Olivia.

In a few weeks, Olivia's Dress Shop would be open, but she was more than willing to take orders from friends, and Hannah was proud to be her first customer. One look at the finished dress and she had known that the other ladies at the dinner would be wondering who made the garment.

"Good morning, Hannah," Ross greeted her as he breezed through her office, barely stopping to hang his hat on the rack.

She nodded as he closed the door to his own area and made ready for his first appointment of the day. Turning her eyes, she stared at the hat. It was a lot like the one that Wesley Stout had been wearing that last time she spotted him.

Wherever he was, she was happy that he didn't seem to be in Silver Ridge anymore. Maybe he had moved to the gold mines in Nevada. There had been a big strike there, and no doubt Wesley Stout would be interested.
Chapter 16

The Silver House Hotel was in all of its glory that evening. The crystal chandeliers sparkled and laughter filled the room, as they stepped inside. The brisk night breeze had made her cheeks rosy with the cold and she reluctantly gave her wrap to the steward that showed them to the private lounge and dining area.

With her wrap removed, Ross stared at her. "You look beautiful tonight, Hannah. I'm sure your dress is the prettiest at the party tonight."

She felt her cheeks warm even more. He really had noticed. "Thank you, Ross. You look very nice, as well."

He offered her an arm and she took it as they stepped inside the private rooms. Her fingers tingled against the dark wool of his jacket. There was no use pretending otherwise; she was falling in love with him. How he felt about her, she had no idea. He was always friendly and seemed to enjoy spending time with her. But it was only office time. He had never taken her on a buggy ride on their days off or called to see her.

Well, what could she expect? She hadn't come west to marry a handsome, rich man. She would have to settle for the best life would be, in the circumstances. And that would include love, or at least respect. So far, he was the only man that had interested her.

The soft glow of the lamps added warmth to the air, and she soon shed the cold that lingered on her face and hands.

Spotting Inez across the room, Hannah let go of him and made her way to her, as Ross crossed the room to talk with a few of his friends.

Inez sucked in her breath. "Hannah, your dress is beautiful! Did Olivia make it?"

Hannah nodded. "She is going to be the most successful dressmaker in Silver Ridge, don't you think?"

"I'm quite sure of it," Inez smiled. "I'll soon be wearing one of her creations, myself. I would be tonight, but it seems someone got in an order before me," she teased.

Hannah laughed. "Your dress is beautiful, even if it isn't one of Olivia's creations." And it was, too. The cobalt silk dress was perfectly fitted to Inez's slim figure and the color complimented her eyes and sapphire jewels that she wore. Inez Pollard was an important influence on the ladies of Silver Ridge. Once she wore one of Olivia's creations, the young woman's success would be certain.

Knowing dinner would not be served for another hour, Hannah was surprised when the wall at the end of the room slid open and revealed a stage had been set up. On the stage was a small orchestra. The conductor held his arms up for a moment, and then the music began.

"I had to hurry to get to you first," Ross said, as he swept her across the floor, his arm holding her tight.

Her face flamed hot and she avoided his eyes. "That's very sweet of you, Ross. But—"

He laughed and lowered his face to hers, his lips close to her ear. "I'm not being sweet, Hannah. You are the most beautiful woman in the room tonight."

"Ross, I mean, thank you. I'm glad that you did. . .make it over here first," she managed to say, despite the dryness in her mouth. Being this close to him sent her nerves jangling. If not for the fast pace of the dance, he was sure to feel the trembling of her hand in his.

After a few dances, the large double doors that led to a stone paved walking area, were set slightly ajar, pulling away some of the heat in the crowded room. She felt glad of the cooler breeze that fanned her face.

His arm closed around her waist as the dance came to an end. "Why don't we step outside for a moment, Hannah. I think this room is overheated."

Taking his hand, she followed as they stepped through the doorway. She had expected to be greeted by a blast of cold, but was surprised to see that the area was enclosed in glass, like the greenhouses she had seen back in Springfield. The temperature was quite pleasant and was softly scented with the roses that bloomed in the enclosure.

A few others followed behind, and Ross led her to the back area. Through the now bare branches of trees outside, they looked up to see the almost full moon.

"It's so beautiful," Hannah said, her eyes on the glowing orb.

"I've told you what I thought was beautiful tonight," he said, his fingers curling around her elbow as he drew her close.

She looked up into his dark eyes. Her heart pounded like horses' hooves on a brick-paved road. She swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. "Ross—"

His lips were on hers in a moment, the kiss sweet and gentle. When he pulled away, his fingers caressed her cheek. "I hope that wasn't too forward of me."

She struggled for air, doing her best to ignore the wave of tingles on her face. "No. It's not. It wasn't." She should be quiet before he thought her nothing more than a silly girl.

"Hannah—"

Shouting sounded behind them, along with gasps from the crowd. Taking her hand, Ross pulled her behind him as they hurried back to the room. The shouting was still going on.

"Cave-in at the Dulcet Mine! Cave-in at the Dulcet Mine!"

"How many are trapped?" A man in front shouted at the messenger.

But the man, a dazed expression on his face, seemed not to hear.

Ross turned to Hannah as people began pouring out of the room. "I'll have to go. You can ride home with Mother." He began to walk away, then turned back. "We need to talk to each other, Hannah. Tomorrow, maybe."

She stared after him, knowing he would do whatever it took to rescue those that might be injured or trapped. "Please take care of him, Lord," she whispered.
Chapter 17

Hannah stared at the office door. Two days had passed since Ross's impromptu kiss. And there had been no time to talk. Thankfully, no one had been killed at the Dulcet mine, but a couple of miners were injured, and there was a lot of work to do to get the mine back in safe working order. Ross had been in meetings for most of both days.

And now was no different. At that moment, the door opened and the mine manager stepped out, followed by Ross.

"See you tomorrow morning," Ross said to the man.

"Yes sir," the man replied, and headed out the door.

Ross turned his tired face to her. "It's time for you to go home, Hannah. I still have some work to do here, but give me a few moments and I'll take you."

She shook her head. "You need to go home and rest, Ross."

He offered a tired smile. "I do, but not tonight."

She stood and reached for her reticule in the top drawer of her desk. "I can make it home, just fine. You do what you need to do, then get some sleep," she insisted.

***

He hesitated. She had walked home late several times before, but he didn't like it. If only things weren't so complicated, right now. There was so much he needed to say to her, and it seemed there was so little time to spare in his life, right now.

"Don't worry," she smiled, heading for the door. "I'll see you in the morning."

He watched as she closed the door behind her. He longed to go after her, walk with her, or take her in his buggy. But she was right. The streets were safe. Men in this town respected women. And, it was only eight o'clock. The wild parties and drinking were a few hours away. Still. . .he worried about her.

***

A cold gust caught her face, and Hannah clutched her shawl closer as she made her way down the wooden sidewalk. Her footsteps echoed in the cold air of the dark night, the sound blending with that of the piano music and laughter that drifted from two saloons down the street. Two men stood in the middle of the next block, both drunk and shouting at each other. A common sight in the rowdy night life of the town.

The meeting had lasted longer than she had thought and Ross Pollard was still at the office, even now. And her stomach was reminding her that she had yet to eat her evening meal.

***

As she walked, she felt around in her reticule for her key to the boarding house door. In general, Silver Ridge was a safe town for women, but with the active night life, and a mix of miners, cowboys, and strangers walking up and down the street all night, Inez had thought it best to keep the house locked, and had issued each of them a key.

She found the long piece of cold metal and pulled it from the bag, clutching it tightly in her hand. She had never liked the dark and walking alone at night frightened her. But she hadn't wanted Ross to know what a coward she was.

Only a half block, and she would be there. She slowed her walk as a large shadowy figure stepped from the alley that separated her from the boarding house. The man turned and walked in the same direction that she was going. Hannah swallowed hard, but kept walking. Probably just someone on their way to one of the saloons.

Relief swept through her as he passed the boarding house and kept going. At the door she inserted the key and was about to turn the lock, when strong fingers gripped her elbow, digging in hard.

"I don't think you want to do that," a low voice growled in her ear.

Wincing at the pain, and heart pounding, she struggled against the panic that was growing inside of her. "Let go of me," she demanded, her voice stronger than she had thought. She could yell and scream, but the sounds would only blend in with those filling the air from the saloons.

Jerking her away from the door, the shadowy figure laughed. "Has it really been that long, Hannah? Don't you know who I am?"

The voice was one she would prefer to never hear again. A bitter fluid stung in her throat. She hadn't seen him since the dinner at The Silver Hotel. Why was he bothering her now? And how could she get away from him? The long key in her hand wasn't sharp enough to harm anyone, and she had no other weapon. Ross had encouraged her to carry a pistol, but she hadn't thought it necessary.

She spoke, willing her voice to stay steady. "What do you want, Mr. Stout?"

His answer was a growl in the darkness. "Why, you, of course. Have you forgotten our arrangement? You ran out on me and I don't intend to let you get away with it. Now, the two of us will catch a train back to Kansas City and then we'll be on our way home."

She tried to pull away, but it was no use. "There was no arrangement. I never promised you anything. Whatever it is you think I said, you are sorely mistaken, Mr. Stout. It would be best for you to just leave town."

"Now, you listen to me—"

The door of the boarding house opened and Lenora Blake stood there, lantern in hand. "Hannah? Is that you?"

Before she could answer, Wesley Stout's hand went over her mouth as he pulled her back into the shadows.

She flinched at the pain in her elbows and struggled to breathe through his foul, sweaty fingers. If he kept her like this for long, she was going to faint.

After a moment, Lenora gave up and closed the door.

"You scream, or yell, and you will be sorry," he said, as he removed his hand from her face.

She shuddered and struggled for a breath of fresh air. She would run, if she had the chance, but her arm was still locked in his grip.

He uttered a slight chortle that turned to laughter. "Now, let's go! I knew I could get you back."

Hannah struggled against his grip. "You're insane, Mr. Stout. I told you, I don't want to go with you. Now or ever. Please, leave me alone!"

He laughed again and began dragging her along with him, constantly warning her not to scream or call attention to herself.

Hannah could barely hear over the sound in her ears of her heart pounding. Once they reached the business district, in less than a block, any noise she made would be absorbed by the chaotic sounds of Silver Ridge night life.

Please help me think of a way to get away from him, Lord. Help me know what to do.

After a moment, she realized that he was still talking, chattering on about what a wonderful life they were going to have together once they were back home in Henson. How she would be so happy, once they were married.

Married! Why. . .be calm, Hannah. Maybe if she just went along with what he was saying, she would be able to escape at the first chance that came along. No doubt, the more she struggled, the tighter his hold would be on her.

She cleared her throat and spoke loudly. "Wesley?"

He stopped walking and turned to look at her. She could see the pleased expression on his face. It was probably the first time that she had addressed him by his Christian name.

"What is it, Hannah?"

"You're hurting my arm. Don't you think we could walk at a slower pace?"

He stared at her face, as he took in her words. "Well, I guess so. But we've got to find a preacher as soon as we can. Else, we'll have to leave town together without being married. And that just wouldn't be right. Mama would be very angry if that happened. I don't know how I would ever explain it to her."

Confusion balled in her stomach. "Your mother?" Wesley Stout's mother had been dead for over five years. Hannah and her aunt had attended the funeral and followed all the church mourners to the cemetery to watch the burial.

An expression of astonishment crossed his face. "Of course I mean my mother! You know what a stickler she is for convention. I can't let her down. You have to help me, Hannah. I want her to be proud."

A pang of pity, as well as fear struck her. He wasn't just mean and ruthless, there was something else wrong with Wesley Stout. And she was uncertain as to how to handle it.

"Now, let's hurry," he said, as he went back to a fast walk, all but dragging her behind him.

She did her best to make eye contact with a few of the men, out wandering the streets, but most were drunk and seemed to look right through her. After all, men in the saloons had the working girls to look at tonight. Hannah would be considered plain next to most of them, with their sparkling dresses and made-up faces.

Wesley kept up the fast pace, walking as if he had a destination in mind, though she was sure that he didn't. She doubted he had ever tried to find a preacher in this town of few churches. And finding a preacher in the middle of the night might prove harder than he anticipated.

"Get in," he said, as they stopped at a small wagon, tied to a post in front of the Silver Dust Saloon.

Hannah stared at the rig. It must belong to one of the small, independent miners. "This isn't your wagon, is it, Wesley?"

"It doesn't matter. We'll only borrow it for a short while," he said, his hands hard and rough as he grabbed her arm and started pushing.

She was unwilling, but if she kept her head, there might yet be a chance to escape. Maybe, if she kept reminding him of his mother, he would slow down a little bit, give her more of a chance to get away. "You shouldn't be so rough, Wesley. I'm sure your mother taught you how to treat a lady," she admonished.

His hand unclenched her arm at once. "I'm sorry, Hannah. Just please get on in the wagon. I promise everything will be all right."

She pulled herself up to the seat. Everything might be all right if the owner didn't step out of the saloon and open fire on the thieves that were taking his wagon. And the way the law worked in this town, the man would be justified. Then, she and Wesley Stout would be the newest occupants of the Silver Ridge Cemetery.

She glanced behind them as Wesley urged the horses on down the road. She could see nothing but crowded sidewalks, filled with miners and cowboys. If only she saw someone she knew!

"Hold tight!" Wesley shouted as he slapped the reins on the horses backs. Shocked by the sudden smack, they took off accordingly.

Hannah grabbed the side of the wagon and held on for her life. Where they were going, she had no idea, and she suspected it was the same with Wesley. The angry expression on his face told her to keep her thoughts to herself. Maybe, once they stopped, she could try and talk some sense into the man. But with the state of his mind, she doubted that was possible.

After a few moments, it became a slow pace, as they had made their way through the crowded night streets of Silver Ridge. If this ride had been a few months ago, when she first arrived in the burgeoning mining town, the trip through the town would have been much shorter. At the rate the town was growing, it would be a large city in another couple of weeks. Such stories of towns springing up overnight had seemed fairy tales to everyone back east. But she had been here to witness how fast one could grow.

A blast of cold air hit her as they began to travel faster, once they were on the almost deserted road that led out of town. With no lantern to light their way, she was glad for the light of the moon, that cast shadows on their travels. Wesley, intent on driving, seemed not to notice the fact that it was dark.

She was tempted to ask where they were going, but he seemed so consumed with his own thoughts that she dare not interrupt. How this was going to end well, she couldn't imagine. It is all in Your hands, Lord.
Chapter 18

Ross Pollard glanced at his watch. Almost nine. Maybe it wasn't too late to check at the boarding house and make sure that Hannah had made it safely back to her home. In this town, there was no 'late' to be found. But the girls at the boarding house were from civil society, and they kept those hours. Still, if there was a light on inside, he would stop and inquire of her safety.

After the incident at The Dulcet Mine, he had barely had time to speak to her, tell her what he had been trying to say that night at the dinner. Maybe, if she was still awake and dressed, he could talk to her, even at this late hour. After the last meeting tonight, his nerves had finally settled. No one had been killed in the cave-in, and the damage could be easily repaired. He had taken care of his business, as he had to, and now, it was time for pleasure. He had never thought he might find a chance at this kind of happiness, but Hannah had changed all of that.

He smiled and snapped shut the watch in his hand. Tonight, he would tell her how he felt about her.

***

Ross tied his horse to the hitching post outside the boarding house and waited patiently after his knock at the door.

Finally, the door opened a crack, and he could see the shadowy form of his Aunt Lenora. "Sorry to bother you this late, Auntie. I was wondering if Hannah was still up?"

Now the door was wide open and the gray-haired woman stood before him, a knitted shawl covering her nightgown. "Hannah? When I saw you I thought she was with you!"

Fear gripped his heart and seemed to travel through his body. "She's not here?"

Lenora shook her head. "I heard something outside about an hour ago, but when I opened the door, no one was there."

She should have been here about the time Lenora was talking about. What could have happened to her? His breath came fast. "Don't worry, I'll find her."

He slowed his horse in front of the Silver Dust Saloon. He was sure that was the sheriff and two deputies talking to what appeared to be an angry miner.

"I saw the whole thing," a bystander was saying. "A man and woman both got in the wagon and took off!"

Ross's heart seemed to stop. That had to be Hannah. But, who was she with?

"Excuse me, Sheriff," he interrupted as he stepped forward. "I think I know at least who the woman was."

***

Hannah held tight to the side of the buckboard slats. The moon was high and gave plenty of light for Wesley to see where to drive the wagon. This was going to be one ride that she would never forget. If she lived through it. She tried not to look at the close edge of the road, as they began to climb higher into the hills above Silver Ridge.

The sound of hoof beats interrupted her thoughts. She gave a swift glance at Wesley. Absorbed in his own musings, he appeared not to hear. Daring to glance behind them, she saw nothing in the darkness. Still, there was the definite sound of horses moving at a fast pace. Maybe, somehow, someone had come to rescue her.

Even when they came into sight, Wesley kept urging the horses on, never giving any attention to the cluster of riders fast catching up with them. Only when a rider pulled alongside and grabbed the reins, did the former banker react.

Leaning to the side, his hand immediately went for the rifle leaned on the seat between them.

With the rickety swaying of the ride, Hannah managed to seize the firearm from his grasp. Before he was able to make a move, she swung the barrel up, pointing it at him. The shock on his face told her that it was finally over. When the wagon came to a halt, she jumped down, glad to have her feet on solid ground. The man on the first horse swung down and she realized that he was none other than Ross Pollard. He had come to rescue her.

Dropping the rifle, she ran to his arms and pressed her face into his heavy coat. Without warning, the tears she had been holding inside released and she sobbed into his chest.

"Don't cry. Everything is all right, now," he assured her, pulling her closer. "I'm here, now."

She nodded and looked toward Wesley Stout. The men had lit a lantern from the wagon and she could see that it was the sheriff from Silver Ridge that had Wesley by the arm. She watched as they forced him onto a horse.

"We'll get him back to town," he shouted over to Ross.

Ross waved and turned to her. "I'll tie my horse to the back of the wagon, and we'll take a slower ride back."

***

After giving him her account of what happened, she sniffed and blinked hard. "I'm just so sorry about this, Ross. I seem to be nothing but trouble for you."

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. "Stop apologizing, Hannah. It is my fault, not yours."

She swallowed a sob and nodded, pushing his handkerchief against her wet eyelids. She was glad for the darkness, as she must look a fright.

After a few moments, Ross pulled the wagon to a stop.

"Is something wrong?" Hannah stared around them. They were high on a hill that overlooked the small city of Silver Ridge. The lights from below added a soft glow to the moonlit night.

Ross cleared his throat. "No. Nothing is wrong. I just. . .like I said earlier, tonight is all my fault."

"No," she argued. How could he feel responsible for something that was out of his control?

"Yes, it is. I should have insisted Thad walk you home. No, I take that back. I should have walked you home."

She smiled, imagining herself walking down the sidewalks of Silver Ridge, her hand on Ross Pollard's arm. It was a nice dream, but, despite that soft kiss a few nights ago, he thought of her as his secretary, and nothing more.

"It wasn't your responsibility," she reminded him. "Generally, the streets are safe for a woman. What happened tonight was no one's fault."

She felt his hand cover hers, then he let go and put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him. The scent of his aftershave filled her nose and she smiled as she breathed in the spicy scent.

"I know most men in town have a high regard for women, but I must disagree with you. Anyone working for me is my responsibility, Hannah. And you, especially."

She felt the steady beat of her heart begin to increase. "I'm not. . .I mean, I've been nothing but a lot of extra work for you, Ross. Especially that incident with the mine. Because of me, you're out more money to those miners."

He chuckled. "I've meant to tell you about that. It seems the men now want to name the mine the Hannah Stillman Mine, after you."

Hannah felt her jaw drop. "After me? But, I thought I was bad luck for them."

He pulled her a little closer and she let her head rest against his shoulder. "As I recall, that very afternoon after you ran inside, they struck a large vein of silver. And an even bigger one since then. Seems they've decided that you are good luck."

Hannah laughed and moved her head looking up into his face, barely visible in the soft moonlight. "The Hannah Stillman Mine? I don't know. . .?"

"Well, I pretty much said no to it," he said.

She swallowed back the surprise in her throat. What was wrong with her, thinking he would allow a mine to be named after her? She had better learn her place in this man's life before—

He moved his fingers under her chin, and tilted her face to look at his. "I was hoping to name it the Hannah Pollard Mine. I mean, if that's all right with you?"

Her heart all but stopped as the moon moved from behind a cloud and gave her a clear view of his face. "Do you mean. . .?"

He smiled and nodded. "I'm asking you to marry me, Hannah. Will you?"

"Ross? But I'm just your secretary."

He shook his head. "You've never been 'just' my secretary, Hannah. Since that first night I met you at my mother's house, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind. And since we've been working together, I've hoped your feelings toward me, and toward marriage might change. What I'm trying to say, is that I love you, Hannah. Is it too much for me to hope for that you might feel the same? I know we haven't known each other very long."

Ross was in love with her. It seemed impossible, but he was a man of his word. If he was asking, he meant it. The words threatened to stick in her throat, but she managed to get them out in barely a whisper. "It's not too much for you to hope for. I feel the same way. I love you, too Ross. And I would be proud to be your wife," she said, as his lips came down to meet hers.

She clung tight to him as his arms went around her, his lips melting into hers. Mrs. Makin and Mrs. Potts had been right when they said some fellow was going to come along and steal away her heart. She just hadn't believed them because she hadn't met Ross Pollard yet.
Epilogue

Hannah clutched tight to the arm of the man she loved. A slight murmur of voices sounded from behind. The church was crowded with friends and well-wishers. She turned her head and could see the section that held most of the Mail Order Bride Express brides. Soon many of them would be standing in this very spot where she was.

***

"Do you, Ross Michael Pollard, take this woman, Hannah Marie Stillman, to be your lawful wedded wife? Do you—"

The sound of the minister's voice was barely audible in her ear. All she could do was stare up into the face of the man that she loved. The man that loved her. The man that had asked her to spend the rest of her life with him.

The candlelight setting in the church, the beautiful wedding dress, handcrafted by Olivia, none of it was as important as those three little words he had spoken only a few weeks ago. I love you.

"And now, you may kiss your bride," the preacher said.

"I love you, Hannah," Ross whispered as his lips met hers.

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