Lessie: Bride of Utah (American Mail-Order Bride 45) by Kristin Holt Page B

he go about making an exchange?” Lessie’s eyes nearly sparkled with excitement. “That person just might know more of Mr. Trengove’s situation. Might even know—”
    Lessie hauled up short, so short she must have realized something of significance.
    Good thing, too, because he didn’t want to tell her that company scrip wasn’t exchangeable for cash. It was in lieu of currency. Spendable at the company store, covered rent of houses or a bed in the bunkhouse. The system was in place because the system worked. Not all mines were near enough to a town to make United States currency a viable option.
    “Might even know what?” he asked.
    “Might know what Trengove was willing to do, in order to obtain the money his wife and child need.”
    Dread inched its way in. Could Trengove had been so desperate for cash he’d work for the traitors within the company? The timing was questionable, given no one knew for sure when he died. But he might have been the linchpin for the episode when the morning muckers cleared rock away and found themselves bludgeoned by late fall rubble.
    Ideas swirled. Possibilities shifted in his head.
    He wished he had Adam’s sharp mind and his tablet to write it all down and come up with a conclusion.
    The sun had set so long ago, Richard had lost track of the time. This time of year, the sun set at half-past five. Twilight lingered until closer to six. A little earlier in the mountains though. He opened his watch.
    “What are you thinking?” Lessie’s soft touch to his arm brought him back.
    “Is it too late to corner Edgar Kerry?”
    “The big black man? Trengove’s shift supervisor?”
    “That’s him.”
    She tipped his watch to she could see the face. “Nine-o’clock isn’t too late. But consider the only rule you gave me when we left home. We absolutely cannot tip our hands. If you speak to Mr. Kerry about what Mr. Trengove may or may not have been willing to do for money, he’ll know you’re curious.”
    “I’ll be careful. Address it all in concern about sending word to his widow, forwarding the letter and his belongings.”
    “And if Kerry is the one who murdered Trengove? Do you really want to speak to him in the dark, alone? He might assume more than you carefully disclose. Or what if he’s not involved, but believes you are? You have to realize many of the men in camp blame you and Adam for the many deaths.
    He pocketed his timepiece and looped his arm about her shoulders. “I don’t like sitting on this information until morning, but I understand what you’re saying.”
    “Thank you. I can’t help but feel Trengove’s widow’s pain. I’d never be the same if anything happened to you.”
    “I’ll be careful.”
    “Is it possible… to send Widow Trengove money? Call it the wages he had coming or just a king gesture.”
    Not a bad idea. Actually— a very good idea… and he was falling in love with her passion and compassion even as shame raced through him.
    Sixty-one men had died in the past week at this location alone, and he hadn’t thought to offer any sort of financial compensation to the families left behind.
    He’d brought her out her for a reason, and he needed to remember that. He needed to use her talents and quit trying to bumble his way about without listening to her advice.
    “We’ll do it.” He’d figure out a way to make it happen for all the widows.
    The decision felt good, but still an uncomfortable thought nagged. “What if he was one of the turncoats?”
    “He may have been. But his wife probably wasn’t. I doubt she knew what her husband was up to. And that baby is innocent.”
    He kissed his bride’s temple, softened by her compassion and loving her tender heart.
    She yawned, big and long. “Let’s go to sleep. We can pursue this in the morning.”
    They did their best to get comfortable on the pallet. He snuggled her close, enjoying the way she fit against him. Just right. The floor beneath them might be hard, but the joy of