Accidental Courtship. Lisa Bingham

He shoved the tray into Jonah’s arms, then limped from the room again without a word.

      To her credit, Sumner offered a soft sound that was very close to a giggle. Then she reached up to take the tray.

      “Here. Let me help.”

      Before Jonah could respond, she’d begun setting the food and utensils on the table like a practiced dealer at a poker game. By the time he’d taken his seat opposite, she’d placed all of the silverware in their proper places and poured both of them a cup of hot coffee.

      “Milk? Sugar?”

      He shook his head, then watched as she added both to her cup so that the liquid was a caramel brown next to his own cup’s tar black.

      Jonah took a quick swig of the liquid, then grimaced when it hit his tongue and the back of his throat like a brand.

      “Shall I say grace this time?” Sumner asked, her eyes twinkling when she discerned his pain.

      He nodded, slamming his eyes shut against the way they watered.

      “Dear Lord above...we thank Thee for all of the many blessings which Thou has bestowed on us this day,” she began. “We thank Thee for Thy protection and deliverance and for our safe haven here in Bachelor Bottoms...”

      Jonah couldn’t help cracking one eye open, but Sumner’s expression was one of rapt sincerity.

      “We thank Thee for the men who have come to our aid. We thank Thee for the warmth of our shelter and the...sincere compassion and sincerity of our hosts.”

      Again, he shot her a quick glance under his lashes.

      “We pray, O Lord, that Thou will continue to bless us all with kindness and understanding. That Thou will help us to exist together in this valley as friends rather than adversaries. We pray that Thou will bless us with the means to help one another until Thou sees fit to free us from this...unfortunate situation.”

      Jonah had both eyes open now, and was ready to offer his own two cents’ worth—as well as a hearty amen—but Sumner quickly added, “And please bless Mr. Ramsey most of all, that he might feel of Thy love, guidance and compassion. For this and the food before us which Thou hast provided, we are grateful. Amen.”

      She opened her eyes, and smiled at Jonah with a sweet blankness to her expression, and Jonah was reminded of one of his mother’s sayings.

      Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, that one.

      But he wasn’t fooled.

      Sumner Havisham had given him as much time as she planned on doing. Coffee or no coffee, she was now ready to begin her verbal exchange.

      Jonah mentally steeled himself for her arguments, aware that the good doctor planned to challenge his use of the Pinkertons. He’d known when he’d issued the orders that the women would eventually object. But the owners had insisted, and Jonah had agreed that such measures would keep interaction with the men at a minimum. Even so, there’d been a part of him that had regretted treating the women as little more than prisoners.

      Knowing that it would be easier to counter Sumner’s arguments if he didn’t meet her eyes head-on, he began spearing chunks of fried potatoes onto his fork. Even so, he couldn’t miss the way that Dr. Havisham settled her napkin carefully over her lap, then stared down at her plate. He saw a flash of something that looked very much like horror.

      “Is something wrong?”

      “No.” She lifted her fork, gingerly prodding her food. “Your meals are...hearty.”

      “Mining is hard work.”

      Dr. Havisham continued to stare at her plate with such ferocity that Jonah took another look himself. He was forced to admit that the food wouldn’t win any prizes. The portions were large, not pretty. Because Stumpy and his men were often needed in other areas of the Batchwell Bottoms enterprise, they’d taken to cooking all the food once a day, then serving things warmed up until the pots were empty. This often meant that the men were forced to eat leftovers until the food was completely gone. Then Stumpy and his crew would begin preparations all over again.

      Unfortunately, Stumpy didn’t have a wide repertoire of menus, so after a time, the meals all started to look the same. This morning, overcooked beans had been slopped next to a mound of scorched eggs and a greasy pile of fried potatoes. The fare didn’t taste much better than it looked, but it was hot and filling and stuck to a man’s ribs during a hard day’s work.

      “It must be difficult to feed all your men.”

      “The shifts break things up so we don’t have to accommodate all of the miners at once. They’re given a hot meal at daybreak, another in the evening, then cold meats and biscuits in their buckets midway through the workday.”

      She nodded, poking at the beans, which had begun to congeal into a lumpy brown pudding. Then she looked up, concern gleaming from the depths of her eyes. “We women will tax your winter stores of food, won’t we?”

      Jonah considered offering her a blithe denial, but he knew she would see through his subterfuge. “We prepared for the men on hand until the end of April. Perhaps, we’ll have an early spring.”