A Touch of Forever, page 4
“I can offer Clay a better than good education working alongside me.”
Ben did not offer encouragement. He leveled serious eyes on Roen and said, “Then you better be ready to tell Lily about that.”
Chapter Four
Lily Salt did not look up from her work when she heard someone knock at the front door. She continued to deftly rip out the side seam in Abigail Saunders’s cornflower blue dress, the same one she had altered a month earlier. Abigail was increasing at what Lily considered an alarming rate, some of it on account of the baby, but most of it on account of Abigail’s craving for crullers and her husband’s indulgence in getting them for her.
“See who’s at the door, Lizzie.”
Lizzie, who was playing a memory card game on the floor at her mother’s feet, leapt up and darted like a water sprite from the parlor to the door. Her cap of yellow curls bounced like springs. In preparation for greeting the visitor, she patted her hair before she set her hand on the doorknob.
“But don’t let whoever it is in until I say,” Lily called after her. “Unless it’s Mrs. Fish.”
“I know, Mama.”
Lizzie turned the knob and pushed at the door. She positioned herself in the narrow opening and stared up at Roen Shepard, her eyes wide, her mouth parted in a perfect O.
“Hello, Lizzie.”
Lizzie did not return his greeting. She shut the door on him and ran back to the parlor. “It’s Mr. Shepard, Mama. What should I do?”
Lily’s hand stilled. Her fingers tightened on the seam ripper but she did not set it aside. Mustering calm, she said, “That depends on what he wants. Did you ask him?”
“No.”
“Then do that.”
Lizzie hurried back to the door. Roen was standing exactly as he had been, just as if she hadn’t rudely closed the door in his face. “Clay’s in school,” she announced.
“I thought he would be. Hannah and Ham, too, I imagine.”
Nodding, Lizzie opened the door a little wider but made no move to invite him inside. “I’m supposed to ask why you’re here.”
“There’s something I’d like to discuss with your mother. She’s here, isn’t she?”
Lizzie hesitated and then nodded. “She’s working on a dress for Mrs. Saunders.” She shut the door again and retreated to the parlor, where she parted the curtains at the front window and peered out at an angle where she could see Roen. “He’s just standing there,” she told her mother. “I told him Clay’s in school and you’re working, but he’s just standing there.”
“Lizzie, come away from the window before he sees you. What does he want?”
“He wants to talk to you.”
“Yes, but what about?”
Sighing heavily, Lizzie went back to the door, this time dragging her feet. She stood in the opening and asked, “What about?”
Roen blinked. “Pardon?”
“Mama wants to know what about.”
“Ah. Well, about a job. For Clay.” This time when she began to close the door, Roen inserted his foot. “Please. Not again.”
“All right, but you can’t come in. Not yet. Not until Mama says you can.”
“I understand.”
Lizzie looked him over as if she could divine the truth of that, and then, deciding she could, she retreated and relayed the message to her mother.
“A job?” Lily frowned, puzzling over that. She set the seam ripper on the table at her side and nodded once to her daughter. It was hard to move her next words past the lump in her throat. “Go on. You can let him in.”
Lizzie didn’t immediately move. She watched her mother closely, saw the smile that was meant to assure but only made Lizzie’s belly hurt. She couldn’t have explained why that was exactly, just that it was. She said, “I’ll be right here,” and she couldn’t know that saying that about broke her mother’s heart.
Roen was still standing with one foot in the doorway when Lizzie returned. He regarded her with a single raised eyebrow and a glimmer of amusement playing about his mouth.
“You can come in,” she said importantly. “Mama said so.”
“Thank you.” He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and followed Lizzie into the parlor. He was struck immediately by the cheerfulness of the room, or perhaps dumbstruck. It was unexpected, given the homey practicality of the kitchen. Two tall windows fronted the parlor, and sunshine poured through the open drapery. Roen suspected that even on a dreary day, there was enough color in the room to suggest the arc of a rainbow. A plump, ruby velvet sofa sat just beyond the beam of sunlight so it was in no danger of fading. Two ball-and-claw chairs had damask seat covers in royal blue. The area rug, where Lizzie was already sitting cross-legged and turning over cards, was patterned in repeating prism shapes that reminded him of looking through a kaleidoscope. There was an emerald velvet overstuffed chair that complemented the sofa in design, if not in color. All of the pieces were gently worn, lending the parlor a certain warmth that did not require a fire in the fireplace. There were no photographs on any of the tables or arranged across the length of the mantel. In places where he might have seen them, there were short stacks of books. The family had an interesting assortment of histories, anthologies, and thick reference tomes, interspersed with dime novels and children’s literature. Roen suspected the Salts were frequent visitors to the town’s library because the breadth of the collection represented varying interests and a great deal of money. He took all of this in while standing under the wide archway, but it wasn’t until his eyes alighted on Lily Salt that his attention was fixed.
She sat unmoving in a rocker, sunlight spilling over her shoulder, illuminating the cornflower blue dress spread across her lap and draping her legs. She was flanked by an end table on her left and a large canvas carryall on her right. The table held a lamp and an open box of spools. Pins poked a wrist cushion and needles lay safely side by side in a cardboard case. The carryall was overflowing with material, though whether it was fabric remnants or garments in need of repair, he couldn’t tell.
Touched by the sun, Lily’s hair was shaded more toward red than rust, and highlighted silver threads at her temples. He wondered at the silver because she was still a young woman and her coloring did not seem to lend itself to premature graying. She wore her hair loosely pulled back from her face and coiled in a topknot. It was slightly askew, but the effect was charming, not untidy. For some reason, Roen wanted to smile. He thought better of it when her chin came up as if she was daring him.
“Thank you for seeing me,” he said. He had his hat in hand and bowed his head slightly. He did not assume he could take a seat and waited for an invitation or an opening where he could ask to sit.
“Pardon me for not getting up to greet you properly,” Lily said. She indicated the table, the carryall, and Lizzie at her feet to show she was hemmed in.
Roen heard no apology in her tone and her gesture was merely an explanation. He had the sense that she was more at ease in the rocker than out of it, and as he had no wish to add to her discomfort, he graciously accepted her at her word. “Please, don’t give it another thought. I don’t hold with ceremony. As the intruder here, I am already out of bounds.” He took Lily’s silence as agreement. The cheerful parlor was decidedly chilly now. “I believe Lizzie explained why I’m here. Did she?”
Lizzie’s head came up, proof she was listening to every word. “About a job for Clay.”
Lily leaned forward and touched the crown of her daughter’s head. Her fingers ruffled Lizzie’s feathery curls. “Mr. Shepard knows you did,” she said while pinning Roen in place with her narrowing, blue-green eyes. “You’re a good girl.”
Pleased with herself, Lizzie ducked her head to escape her mother’s fingers and returned to the pretense of playing with her cards.
Lily sat back and folded her hands in her lap. “Well?” she asked.
Well, indeed, Roen thought. She was giving no quarter. There was nothing for it but to go straight to the point of his visit. “I have some work for Clay. He mentioned that he did odd jobs for the sheriff and it got me thinking. I spoke to Ben after church and he gave Clay good marks for his work.”
“That was three days ago. You must be doing a powerful lot of thinking on it.”
“I have,” he said truthfully. “There’s his age to consider. He’s only twelve.”
“Only?”
Roen thought it was interesting that she bristled on behalf of her son. She might have objections to Clay working, but for him to be dismissed because of his age was objectionable. “Twelve going on twenty,” said Roen, seeking to regain a foothold.
“Yes, but you’ve spent very little time with Clay. I’m surprised you noticed.” Her eyes kept him pinned. “Unless . . .” What she was going to say remained a thought.
Roen picked up the trail. “Unless I’ve had time with him that you don’t know about?” he asked. “Is that what you were going to say?”
“It was. I didn’t go on because I think I know my son. He would have told me or at least dropped enough hints to give himself away.”
“I want to be clear,” said Roen. “I haven’t seen Clay since Sunday, and then only as you all were leaving church.” His eyes purposely strayed to the nearest ball-and-claw chair. “May I?” he asked, indicating the chair with a sweep of his hat. It was a risk to pose the question; she might turn him down and turn him away. She didn’t, though. Following a brief hesitation, she nodded. Roen slid onto the chair and carefully released a breath he hardly knew he’d been holding.
Lily arched an eyebrow. “Are you all right, Mr. Shepard? If I may be frank, you look ill at ease, and I thought, what with you wearing a suit today and presenting yourself in a parlor instead of a kitchen, you’d be comfortable in your skin. I’m not sure you are.”
Roen regarded her with equal candor. “You’re not wrong. I know I am not welcome, so I would say that accounts for it. Perhaps a suit of armor would improve my comfort, but what I’m wearing now is inadequate to the task.”
Lily felt heat rush to her cheeks, but she did not look away. In her lap, her folded hands tightened. “I deserve that because it’s true,” she said quietly. “You are not welcome. I don’t know you and I don’t care to know you. You’re simply passing through. As I’m sure you’re aware, I’ve been a widow almost two years, and you are not the first snake oil salesman or whiskey drummer or railroad front man to make a fuss over one of my children in order to insinuate himself into my life. I’m not flattering myself; there is nothing flattering about the attention I’ve received. You can deny that is your motive, and perhaps you’ll be stating the truth, but I won’t believe you. History is an excellent teacher and I am a good student.”
Roen carefully considered his words before he spoke. He was comfortable with his silence. Lily Salt, he observed, was not. Her clasped hands had loosened and she was tapping her fingers ever so slightly. “Ben Madison told me you and he were in school at the same time. He said you were whip smart, and I have no reason to doubt the truth of that since I’m still feeling the sting. I am not going to deny an interest in you since, as you have indicated, it would be a waste of breath. I have an urge to apologize on behalf of all the salesmen and railroad front men, but upon reflection, I believe it would be an insult to you. You have demonstrated beyond any doubt in my mind that you are eminently capable of keeping any man at arm’s length.”
His eyes dropped to the tic in her cheek as she clenched and unclenched her jaw. He didn’t think she realized she was doing it. If they had been playing poker, it would have been a tell. In a way, it still was. For all that her words were cutting, he believed they were a bluff. That muscle working in her exposed her vulnerability.
“I don’t know where this leaves Clay. I have a genuine offer to propose, and Ben led me to believe you would consider it. That makes me wonder if Ben knows about the men who come calling on you.”
“He knows,” she said. “There’s not much that happens in Frost Falls that Ben doesn’t know firsthand. He’s run a couple of my would-be suitors out of town, and it gave him pleasure to do so, but if he encouraged you to bring your offer to me, then he’s coming to understand that I’m able to manage without his help or he thinks well enough of you that he’s anticipating I’ll come around to a similar opinion.”
“Why can’t it be both?” Roen meant the question sincerely, but he didn’t expect a response. He observed that her fingers ceased their drumming and there was no more movement in her cheek, but it was not until she unclasped her hands and set them on the arms of the rocker that he thought she might have stopped seeing him as a threat.
“Tell me about your offer of work for my son.”
Roen merely nodded, careful not to show any pleasure in his small victory. “Of course,” he said, and launched into an explanation of the duties Clay would perform as his assistant. “He’ll act as my guide some of the time. You said yourself that he knows the lay of the land. His familiarity is firsthand knowledge, but I’ll be teaching him how to read the maps that Dave and Ed Saunders provided for me as well as the ones I brought from New York. This is more than simply getting to a place. I have to factor elevation, slope, and the roadbed before I can confidently recommend a route to the company. There are other considerations such as the location of depots, drainage, and right-of-ways. I can teach Clay all about that as I go forward. Trestles will have to be constructed where none exist now. The Rockies present challenges like no other, but Northeast is only looking for a new spur to Stonechurch. Northeast doesn’t want to cross the range, only put down rails that match the gauge of the track coming up from Denver.”
“Why not lay the new rails along the same route as the one that already exists?”
“That was the first question I had to answer. I spent most of my first week here on horseback riding alongside the tracks, and that was after taking the train to make my initial observations. The answer is that there are too many places where the route isn’t wide enough to accommodate a second, wider track, and tearing up the current track to lay new rail would disrupt service for months.”
When Roen saw Lily nod her understanding, he went on. “Northeast didn’t lay the rails that go through Falls Hollow and on to Stonechurch. The track was laid for expediency, to get the silver ore from the mines to Denver. The rails hug the mountains, which made sense because the engines at that time could not climb the steeper grades. Narrow gauge was often used because of the difficult terrain, but there was no uniformity in the track gauge among the competing railroads so the cars had to be offloaded at various switching points. All of those companies are bankrupt now, most of them bought out by Northeast. Northeast entered into an agreement with Stonechurch Mining to improve service to the business and the town.”
“Stonechurch Mining is the town,” said Lily.
“You’ve been there?”
She shook her head. “Reputation is all I know about it.”
“Well, it’s true. What is good for the mining operation is good for the town, and Northeast is eager to increase its presence here in Colorado.” He saw Lily looked doubtful, but he didn’t know why. “Do you have questions?”
“Is your work dangerous?”
“Maybe, if I poke my eye with a pencil that I’m trying to put behind my ear.”
“Blasting?” she asked.
“That’s a long way off, and Clay wouldn’t be allowed anywhere close to it.”
“If my son’s curious enough, he’ll find a way.”
“Then I’ll keep him on a leash.” He smiled slightly as he said it, and she smiled as well. Small inroads, he thought. He was also learning the lay of the land.
“I’m guessing that you’ll want him during school hours,” said Lily. “It’s starting to get dark earlier.”
“Yes, but I won’t ask him to accompany me every time I go out. He’ll take care of the particulars, getting the horses from the livery, packing my instruments, and recommending a route when I tell him what I want to see.” Roen moved the hat in his lap to a nearby table. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. “I am going to teach him about building lasting structures, Mrs. Salt. There will be book learning; he’ll have to study. There will be calculations, formulas. He’ll be using basic algebra, geometry, and trigonometry. If he shows aptitude, there will be calculus.”
His posture was meant to engage Lily, but he watched her press her lips together. Uncertainty returned to her eyes.
“I don’t know what that is,” she said.
“Calculus?”
“Yes. And the other thing you mentioned before that.”
“Trigonometry.”
She nodded.
“They are methods of mathematics for assuring the correct height of a bridge, how much weight it can support, and whether it can be built at all. Mathematics is used to factor the cost. I don’t want to climb canyons if I can connect them at the gap.”
“Clay has a head for numbers.”
“I thought he might. He was interested in the ones I showed him. He didn’t understand what he saw, but he seemed keen to learn.”
“The symbols intrigued him. He took out a book from the library, but what he’s learned so far is the Greek alphabet.”
Roen chuckled. “Many of those letters are used as mathematical symbols. He’s making a good beginning. I had no idea.” He sat back in his chair. “Does he get his aptitude for math from his father?” The question was hardly out of his mouth when he saw Lily bristle. Before he could correct what he now realized was a mistake, she was making sure he knew he was wrong.
“Why do you assume that?”
