she regretted her actions. Morgan was not the kind of man to encourage. His arrogance and self-confidence annoyed her, and he was dangerous and calculating. Heaven only knew what might have happened if he’d pressed his advantage. And in less than two weeks she’d be officially engaged to Chuck. The thought made her feel just slightly ill.
Her mind replayed the scene with Morgan. Her body still felt hot and languid from the power of his kiss. She wished she could take back her careless remark about him being a killer. She’d seen a gentleness in Morgan’s eyes that had now disappeared. She knew he could feel her presence next to him as strongly as she felt his, and she got the decided impression he was enjoying her discomfort. She sagged with relief as they rounded the final bend in the road where blue skies gave way to gray. Green forested mountains became scarred barren hills, and the mine patch came into view.
It was a dismal stretch of land dominated by a colliery—a coal processing plant and the surrounding metal buildings. Several row houses, each sheltering at least four miners’ families, lined one side of town. Sagging clotheslines, heavy with blue overalls and work shirts, cluttered the yards, and small children played tag beneath the dangling garments. Across the way, a railroad track for transporting coal divided the patch town in half.
Elaina headed straight for the Colsons’—a board structure that, compared to the ugly two-story row houses occupied by the less fortunate miners and their families, seemed almost homey. She could see men working at the entrance to the Blue Mountain Mine, their gray, dirt-smudged faces a reflection of the patch itself. Their unrest had been, as usual, short-lived, as hungry children and distraught mothers encouraged the men to return to work.
And the Morgan shooting had shaken everyone up and at least delayed further hostilities. Since Morgan was a gunman, the assailant could have been someone other than a miner, but chances were good the man was a friend or husband of someone they knew. In lieu of costing a fellow worker his freedom, the men were willing to let their grievances go—at least for a while.
Chapter 5
“Y OU’D BETTER STAY in the buggy. I’ll go in and let them know we’re here.” Elaina really meant she was taking no chances. Dan Morgan’s welcome might not be a pleasant one.
As she lightly stepped down from the buggy and headed toward the small clapboard home, Johnny Colson’s spotted mutt wagged its tail and panted a greeting.
Mary Colson met her at the door, brushing flour from her apron and smelling of fresh baked bread. “Thank ye fer comin’, Miss Elaina. I know how busy ye be and— Who’s that?” Mary’s eyes focused on the man in the buggy. “Man looks pale. He all right?” She wiped her rough red hands on her apron and peered hard toward the buggy.
“I might as well tell you. That’s Dan Morgan.” Elaina searched the woman’s eyes for understanding and saw the light of comprehension dawn. Everyone in Carbon County knew about Black Dan. “He’s been hurt pretty bad,” Elaina continued. “I figured he needed the fresh air so . . .” She left the sentence unfinished, waiting for Mary Colson’s reaction.
“I got no love for bushwhackers. Man who shot Black Dan is no friend of mine.” Mary glanced again toward Morgan. “Long as the man behaves himself, he’s welcome here. Ye best bring him in. He looks a little peaked.”
Elaina smiled gratefully. That was what she liked about the mine patch families. They were good, hardworking people. Mary’s family had come from Cornwall. Many of the others were German, some Irish, some from the mines in Tennessee.
“Thanks, Mary. He really doesn’t seem to be as bad as they say. I’ll go get him.” She gathered her skirts and hurried toward the waiting man.
“You decide they aren’t going to finish me off?” Morgan teased.
Elaina ignored him. “Come on. I’ll help
Her mind replayed the scene with Morgan. Her body still felt hot and languid from the power of his kiss. She wished she could take back her careless remark about him being a killer. She’d seen a gentleness in Morgan’s eyes that had now disappeared. She knew he could feel her presence next to him as strongly as she felt his, and she got the decided impression he was enjoying her discomfort. She sagged with relief as they rounded the final bend in the road where blue skies gave way to gray. Green forested mountains became scarred barren hills, and the mine patch came into view.
It was a dismal stretch of land dominated by a colliery—a coal processing plant and the surrounding metal buildings. Several row houses, each sheltering at least four miners’ families, lined one side of town. Sagging clotheslines, heavy with blue overalls and work shirts, cluttered the yards, and small children played tag beneath the dangling garments. Across the way, a railroad track for transporting coal divided the patch town in half.
Elaina headed straight for the Colsons’—a board structure that, compared to the ugly two-story row houses occupied by the less fortunate miners and their families, seemed almost homey. She could see men working at the entrance to the Blue Mountain Mine, their gray, dirt-smudged faces a reflection of the patch itself. Their unrest had been, as usual, short-lived, as hungry children and distraught mothers encouraged the men to return to work.
And the Morgan shooting had shaken everyone up and at least delayed further hostilities. Since Morgan was a gunman, the assailant could have been someone other than a miner, but chances were good the man was a friend or husband of someone they knew. In lieu of costing a fellow worker his freedom, the men were willing to let their grievances go—at least for a while.
Chapter 5
“Y OU’D BETTER STAY in the buggy. I’ll go in and let them know we’re here.” Elaina really meant she was taking no chances. Dan Morgan’s welcome might not be a pleasant one.
As she lightly stepped down from the buggy and headed toward the small clapboard home, Johnny Colson’s spotted mutt wagged its tail and panted a greeting.
Mary Colson met her at the door, brushing flour from her apron and smelling of fresh baked bread. “Thank ye fer comin’, Miss Elaina. I know how busy ye be and— Who’s that?” Mary’s eyes focused on the man in the buggy. “Man looks pale. He all right?” She wiped her rough red hands on her apron and peered hard toward the buggy.
“I might as well tell you. That’s Dan Morgan.” Elaina searched the woman’s eyes for understanding and saw the light of comprehension dawn. Everyone in Carbon County knew about Black Dan. “He’s been hurt pretty bad,” Elaina continued. “I figured he needed the fresh air so . . .” She left the sentence unfinished, waiting for Mary Colson’s reaction.
“I got no love for bushwhackers. Man who shot Black Dan is no friend of mine.” Mary glanced again toward Morgan. “Long as the man behaves himself, he’s welcome here. Ye best bring him in. He looks a little peaked.”
Elaina smiled gratefully. That was what she liked about the mine patch families. They were good, hardworking people. Mary’s family had come from Cornwall. Many of the others were German, some Irish, some from the mines in Tennessee.
“Thanks, Mary. He really doesn’t seem to be as bad as they say. I’ll go get him.” She gathered her skirts and hurried toward the waiting man.
“You decide they aren’t going to finish me off?” Morgan teased.
Elaina ignored him. “Come on. I’ll help
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