Her brows rose. “It’s a wonder you survived, Mr. Gault.”
He didn’t miss her sarcasm. If anything, it made his smile even wider. “I’ve got battle scars, Miss Tomlinson. But, yes, I survived.”
The livery door opened and Willoughby Smalls walked out, leading a strawberry roan gelding.
“Thanks, Willoughby.”
Smalls grinned, his gaze bouncing from Gideon to Lydia. An accident at the mine had crushed the gentle giant’s throat years ago, robbing him of his ability to speak. But he still managed to communicate his thoughts by waving a finger between the two of them.
“Yes, we’ll be riding out together.”
“Despite the fact that Mr. Gault worked so hard to leave me behind,” Lydia muttered under her breath.
Smalls made a chortling noise, then moved to Lydia’s side. Bending, he offered his laced hands to help boost her into the saddle.
“Thank you, Mr. Smalls. You are too, too kind.”
She shot a glance in Gideon’s direction in time to see his ears redden ever so slightly.
As soon as her boot rested on Smalls’s palms, he hoisted her up as if she weighed no more than a feather. She barely had time to throw her leg over the mare before landing unceremoniously in the saddle.
This time, it was her turn to feel a tinge of heat seeping into her cheeks as Gideon’s keen brown eyes raked over her form.
After she agreed to host a series of speaking engagements on women’s suffrage up and down the California coast, Lydia’s aunts had insisted that she be outfitted from head to toe in a proper wardrobe for the occasion. Because of that, Lydia had been burdened with more clothing—and trunks—than decency permitted. But for once, Lydia was grateful that her guardians had seen fit to provide her with a split riding skirt and tailored jacket—as well as a wool greatcoat to wear over the top. Granted, the matching hat was a trifle fussy. But she couldn’t miss the fact that Gideon was looking at her less like an annoyance and more like...
Well, like a woman.
“As you can see, Mr. Gault. I am more than prepared for the rigors of our outing.”
His mouth—which had dropped open ever so slightly when she’d sat astride the horse—snapped shut.
“We’ll see about that,” he said. Then he offered a soft clicking noise to his horse and headed the animal out of town.
“Thank you again, Mr. Smalls,” Lydia offered.
The man beamed up at her and waved.
Although Lydia had always been an avid rider, it took several moments to accustom herself to the mare and the unfamiliar tack. But once she’d loosened her grip on the reins and settled more firmly into the large saddle, she was able to relax and move with the animal.
“Is this something you do every year?” she asked, catching up to Gideon.
He looked at her questioningly. “What?”
“Ride out to examine the pass?”
He nodded. “Usually Jonah and I make the trip once or twice a week until we can see a possible path to the adjoining valley.”
“So, it’s not unusual to be completely cut off? Even with the railroad coming through?”
“The railway company tries to keep the tracks clear as long as they can. But eventually, even they have to call it quits. For the last couple of years, we’ve only been isolated for a few weeks. This year has been...unusual.”
Unusual.
That was one way of describing the situation. Nearly three months had elapsed since the avalanche. And this winter, the miners had been forced to contend with more than fifty stranded passengers who were living in their valley, eating their stores, using their supplies. In many ways, it was a blessing that spring had come early, even though there were those who weren’t looking forward to the consequences.
“Will you be relieved to see the back of us, Mr. Gault?”
When she met his gaze, Gideon looked as if she’d handed him a time bomb set to explode.
Laughing, she said, “I suppose that there’s no diplomatic way of answering that, is there?”
His eyes creased in amusement. “Like I said. I grew up with sisters. I’ve learned to recognize a loaded question.”
“Then let me rephrase. I know that your duties will be simplified. But I wonder if you will miss us in some small way.”
He studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, Miss Tomlinson. I dare say that this valley will miss all of you when you’ve gone. You’ve brought a measure of joy to what would have been a dreary winter.”
Lydia supposed she shouldn’t put too much import into his words, but she couldn’t ignore the warmth that settled into her heart.
“I’m glad we weren’t a complete chore.”
He shook his head. “Not a complete chore.”
When she would have glared at him, he laughed. “Come now, Miss Tomlinson. You mustn’t take yourself too seriously. After all, our time together is limited.”
Yes. But did it have to be?
“I don’t suppose that your views have changed?”
He arched a brow. “What do you mean?”
“When we first arrived, you and Jonah, Mr. Batchwell and Mr. Bottoms...well, you were all so certain that having females in the valley would be the ruin of the mine. Do you still think that way?”
She liked the way that Gideon didn’t answer immediately. He seemed to consider the question for some time before saying, “I would say that we’ve managed to make things work.”
“Are production numbers down?”
“No. From what I’ve seen, they’ve increased.”
“And the safety issues. Has there been a marked increase in injuries?”
She knew by the way he stiffened in the saddle that he had figured out the gist of her argument.
“No. We’ve had some problems—the tunnel collapse in December and the incident with Jenny Reichmann—”
“Which had nothing to do with the rest of us at the Dovecote.”
He inclined his head in agreement.
“Overall, I’d say that the men have been mindful of the risks of their job and have done their best to avoid any dangers they’ve encountered.”
“So, there is no hard evidence that the women have proven to be a distraction.”
“I can assure you that the men are plenty distracted, Miss Tomlinson. But there’s been no sign of it in their work. Yet.”
“On the other hand, there have been definite advantages to having us here, I believe. Take the food, for example...”
Gideon drew his mount to a halt, forcing her to do the same.
“I take it that you’re building up to a grand finale in this debate, Miss Tomlinson. Why don’t you cut to the chase?”
She reached to pat the neck of the mare.
“I meant nothing of the kind. I merely wanted to know—in your expert opinion—if you felt that men and women could coexist here at Bachelor Bottoms.”
He sighed and squinted against the bright sunshine that radiated from the upper slopes of the mountains.
“It