the money he would forfeit if he didn’t hire her, which gave her fresh hope. She needed this job. She only hoped Casey Trenton’s need for income outweighed his conventional opinions.
“You make fine saddles, ma’am.” The lines of his brow gradually smoothed. “Finest I’ve ever seen. And nobody could say you don’t have a talent for it.”
She warmed beneath his praise, and what it likely meant. Working in a setting like this, one that reminded her so much of home, and where she could keep a needed eye on Robert would be the answer to her—
“But what I said earlier still stands, ma’am. A woman working in a livery . . . It’s just not something I can agree to. Goes against what I hold is right, and I doubt my customers would care for it much either. I’m sorry, Miss Ashford.”
She struggled to keep her disappointment hidden. “I see,” she whispered, a tangle of emotions unraveling inside her by the second.
“But I want to do right by you, ma’am. You sent me that saddle to show me your handiwork. Not for me to sell. So I might owe you an apology on that count. But from what you penned in that letter you wrote, I kind of figured you might be needing the money.”
Sincerity colored his tone. She looked at the saddle in her grip and recalled who she’d had in mind when making it. “You figured correctly, Mr. Trenton. I could use the money.”
“Name your asking price then. Whatever it is, I’ll pay it.”
She glanced up at him. Such trust. Somehow, despite having only met this man, she wouldn’t have expected any less. “I usually sell my saddles for thirty dollars.”
He shook his head and laughed beneath his breath.
“Well, that’s what I get for pricing it without knowing.” He pulled a wad of bills from his pants pocket. “I asked forty-five for it and the guy who bought it didn’t blink.”
McKenna’s mouth slipped open.
“He’s supposed to come back for it this week. Paid for it up front but was on his way to Denver on the stage, so he asked me to hold it for him until he gets back.” Trenton gave her a look that made her feel naive despite her twenty-three years. “Things cost more out here, ma’am. Harder to get supplies up the mountains, and skilled labor such as this isn’t that common in these parts.”
As he sorted through the dollar bills, she returned the saddle to the bench and ran a hand over the soft, supple leather, thinking of the hours she’d spent laboring over it, wanting to make sure it was her best. She fingered the decorative strands of braided leather on the saddle skirts. No reason why something serviceable couldn’t also be pleasing to the eye. This had been the last saddle she’d made in her father’s livery, with his tools, and she’d planned on giving it to Janie as a gift.
But seeing how things had worked out . . .
“That’s fine that you sold it, Mr. Trenton. You’re right, the money will come in handy, sir.”
She took the stack of bills he held out.
“I hope your move to Copper Creek turns out to be a good one, ma’am. I’ve been here since ’60 when the place was founded. We got mining towns on all sides, which means lots of business. But once a month, when the miners get paid, things can get a tad rowdy in town for a few nights. Mostly it’s a safe enough place, though. Just mind yourself and you’ll make it fine.”
She acknowledged the warning with a tilt of her head.
“And tell your brother I’ll look for him at sunup tomorrow. I’ve got orders for three new wagons, and two out back waiting to be repaired. So we’ll make the most of daylight hours.”
“I’ll tell him, sir. And he’ll be here. Thank you.”
Trenton turned to the forge and stoked the fire, while she walked to the open doorway, discreetly counting the money. Forty-five dollars. He hadn’t kept a penny for bartering the deal. She retraced her steps. “Mr. Trenton . . .”
He looked back. His attention went to the bills she held out, but he
“You make fine saddles, ma’am.” The lines of his brow gradually smoothed. “Finest I’ve ever seen. And nobody could say you don’t have a talent for it.”
She warmed beneath his praise, and what it likely meant. Working in a setting like this, one that reminded her so much of home, and where she could keep a needed eye on Robert would be the answer to her—
“But what I said earlier still stands, ma’am. A woman working in a livery . . . It’s just not something I can agree to. Goes against what I hold is right, and I doubt my customers would care for it much either. I’m sorry, Miss Ashford.”
She struggled to keep her disappointment hidden. “I see,” she whispered, a tangle of emotions unraveling inside her by the second.
“But I want to do right by you, ma’am. You sent me that saddle to show me your handiwork. Not for me to sell. So I might owe you an apology on that count. But from what you penned in that letter you wrote, I kind of figured you might be needing the money.”
Sincerity colored his tone. She looked at the saddle in her grip and recalled who she’d had in mind when making it. “You figured correctly, Mr. Trenton. I could use the money.”
“Name your asking price then. Whatever it is, I’ll pay it.”
She glanced up at him. Such trust. Somehow, despite having only met this man, she wouldn’t have expected any less. “I usually sell my saddles for thirty dollars.”
He shook his head and laughed beneath his breath.
“Well, that’s what I get for pricing it without knowing.” He pulled a wad of bills from his pants pocket. “I asked forty-five for it and the guy who bought it didn’t blink.”
McKenna’s mouth slipped open.
“He’s supposed to come back for it this week. Paid for it up front but was on his way to Denver on the stage, so he asked me to hold it for him until he gets back.” Trenton gave her a look that made her feel naive despite her twenty-three years. “Things cost more out here, ma’am. Harder to get supplies up the mountains, and skilled labor such as this isn’t that common in these parts.”
As he sorted through the dollar bills, she returned the saddle to the bench and ran a hand over the soft, supple leather, thinking of the hours she’d spent laboring over it, wanting to make sure it was her best. She fingered the decorative strands of braided leather on the saddle skirts. No reason why something serviceable couldn’t also be pleasing to the eye. This had been the last saddle she’d made in her father’s livery, with his tools, and she’d planned on giving it to Janie as a gift.
But seeing how things had worked out . . .
“That’s fine that you sold it, Mr. Trenton. You’re right, the money will come in handy, sir.”
She took the stack of bills he held out.
“I hope your move to Copper Creek turns out to be a good one, ma’am. I’ve been here since ’60 when the place was founded. We got mining towns on all sides, which means lots of business. But once a month, when the miners get paid, things can get a tad rowdy in town for a few nights. Mostly it’s a safe enough place, though. Just mind yourself and you’ll make it fine.”
She acknowledged the warning with a tilt of her head.
“And tell your brother I’ll look for him at sunup tomorrow. I’ve got orders for three new wagons, and two out back waiting to be repaired. So we’ll make the most of daylight hours.”
“I’ll tell him, sir. And he’ll be here. Thank you.”
Trenton turned to the forge and stoked the fire, while she walked to the open doorway, discreetly counting the money. Forty-five dollars. He hadn’t kept a penny for bartering the deal. She retraced her steps. “Mr. Trenton . . .”
He looked back. His attention went to the bills she held out, but he
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