Molly laughed and looked toward the door when Lucy and Daisy skipped inside. “I’ve been waiting for you two. If we’re going to finish that project we talked about, we need to do it today since Mr. Johnson and I are leaving tomorrow morning.”
Angie’s heart wrenched in her chest. “Oh Molly. How will I manage without you?”
“Abby, Tilly, and Dorothy have promised to keep you so busy, you won’t notice I’m gone.”
“I’ll notice,” Angie said softly. Before they both got teary, she stood and carried their coffee cups to the sink. “What project are you and the girls working on?”
“We can’t tell,” Lucy said quickly.
“It’s a surprise.” Every cell in Daisy’s face and body betrayed that she wanted to tell Angie in the worst way. “I could give you a hint. . . .”
“No,” Lucy and Molly said in unison.
After they went next door to Molly’s house, Angie washed the dishes and cleaned up her kitchen, thinking about Molly’s advice and about everything she’d considered last night.
There was no way around it. She had to believe in Sam’s plan and believe that it would be successful. Truly she had no choice. But the bottom line was what she had said to Molly. How Sam handled his life and his daughters was none of her affair. He’d as good as said so. Heart aching, she went looking for him.
Sam saw her coming. She was heading toward Hugo Mueller’s wagon wearing that tight-lipped fizzy look that hadn’t yet boded well for him. He tossed the last of the bandstand lumber into the bed of the wagon, then took off his hat and wiped a sleeve across his brow before he walked forward.
“We have to talk, Sam.”
“I know.” She was beautiful when she was dressed to go out, but he found her the most desirable as she was now. Wearing a damp apron over an everyday dress, tendrils of reddish brown hair loose around her cheeks, her face flushed. Her lips were full and naturally rosy, an invitation to kisses, and her dark eyes flashed up at him in a way that made his stomach tighten.
“You’re busy now, and I promised to help the women wash the dishes from the party. When will you have a few minutes?”
“Tonight. After the girls are in bed. By then, I should have something definite to tell you.”
“Well, I can say what I have to say right now.” She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders, then looked him in the eyes. “I apologize for the things I said last night.”
His eyebrows rose.
“I don’t have a say. Lucy and Daisy are your daughters, not mine. I forget that sometimes, but last night you made it painfully obvious. Accepting help or not is your decision to make. It’s your choice whether you lose them or not.”
She pressed her lips together and lifted her chin. Then she turned on her heel and marched off to help carry the tubs of dirty dishes into Tilly Morgan’s house.
Sam rubbed a hand across his mouth and watched her go, admiring the provocative sway of her hips and the way she carried her head, tall and proud. But he hated what she’d said.
If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never understand her.
Thirty minutes later, he headed down to the stable and saddled his horse.
Marcus Applebee was already waiting at the L&D when Sam arrived. Sam tied Old Brown to a tree and watched Marcus climb out of the main shaft, then he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked forward.
“What do you think?”
Marcus knocked his hat against his thigh, shaking the dust off, then nodded. “It’s high-grade, all right. The assays came back on both drifts at well over five hundred dollars a ton.”
That was as good as any mine in the district. “Then you’re interested?”
Reaching into his jacket, Marcus pulled out a box of cigars, offered one to Sam. “My group would be willing to lend you some development money.”
“I’m not looking for a loan.” He didn’t have time to develop the L&D. “I need an outright sale.”
Marcus waved out a match and puffed. “At this point, you don’t have much to sell. The drifts are just barely deep enough to show that at least one vein is likely ongoing.” He slid a look at Sam. “But that vein could peter out in the next six feet. And you haven’t dug far enough on either drift to know if there are other branches. Anyone who buys this mine is buying a wish and a hope. Not much else.”
“Most of the mines around here are producing three hundred sixty dollars a ton,” Sam said stubbornly. But he knew he wasn’t negotiating from a position of strength. “I know in my gut that the L&D is going to be one of the richest producers in the area.”