The Beginning (Gold Rush Brides Book 1) Read online

  Sam spun back to the stove and started flinging the flapjacks into the oven so hard, Jack wondered if they’d land anywhere near the rest. What had him so worked up? It wasn’t like she was related to him or anything. Not wanting to rile his landlord any further, Jack picked up his cup and started to edge out of the kitchen. But before he could make it, Sam wheeled on him one last time.

  “And one more thing! You ever call her that vile name again, you’ll be out on yer ear. I won’t have it no more. I can get a thousand men just like ya to take yer room, but ladies like Dell don’t come ‘long ever’ day. Now out witchya!”

  Jack scurried from the house like a little boy chastened.

  Chapter 3

  “Dell Price to see Mr. Kimble.”

  The odd little man sitting near the door of the small shop looked agog at her. He didn’t even blink his eyes, just dropped his jaw and stared. Then a strange smile played on his lips. She wondered if she had spilled something on her one good dress but she hadn’t even eaten that morning. As soon as he collected himself enough to pull his eyes from her, she glanced at her reflection in the window. Nothing seemed to be amiss.

  The man limped through the maze of a glistening new steam-powered printing press to an older portly man sitting at a grand desk in the back of the shop. The older man craned his neck to get a look at her. Hoarse whispers were exchanged, and he flapped his hands at the younger man, who hurried back to the front of the shop as fast as his lame leg would allow.

  “Y’may go on back, Miss Price.”

  Delilah blinked at the emphasis he put on ‘miss’. What was that supposed to mean? Or was she hearing something that wasn’t there because of his thick Irish accent? And why was he grinning at her. Clutching her proposal to her chest, she picked her way through stacks of newspapers and flyers to the back. Mr. Kimble watched her approach, his glower growing darker with her every step.

  By the time she reached his desk, she felt as if she might lose the breakfast she hadn’t even eaten. But fear wouldn’t get her anywhere so she took a deep breath and extended her right hand to him.

  “Mr. Kimble. Dell Price. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Kimble pursed his pudgy purple lips and narrowed his eyes at her. He managed to grasp the tips of her fingers for a half-hearted handshake before waving his hand at the chair across from him. “Sit.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She was on edge at his behavior. It was behavior she’d seen many times the past weeks from the several printers she’d met with, but she couldn’t allow this one to dismiss her as the others had. He was the last printer in town who could accommodate her plans.

  “Miss Price, I have to tell you I don’t appreciate being hornswaggled.”

  Delilah feigned surprise. “Oh my, how have you been hornswaggled, sir?”

  “Don’t get fresh with me. You intentionally sent a note here requesting an appointment knowing full well that I would believe you to be a man. What woman is named Dell?”

  “A woman who has little interest in being judged unfairly, sir. A woman who has a vision and will not allow the small matter of her sex impede that dream. A woman who has the funding to pay you quite well for your services, in fact. That’s the kind of woman who is named Dell, sir.”

  “Is that so? Hmm…well, it sounds like a woman like that at least deserves the courtesy of being heard. Proceed.”

  A glimmer of hope sparked in Delilah’s heart. Most printers in town had escorted her out of their offices by this point in her presentation.

  “Thank you, sir! Well, I’m sure it has not escaped your attention that there is an overabundance of men in California but a dearth of ladies. My publication’s goal is to reverse that disparity. Men and women alike can place ads for suitable partners. Men pay a small fee while women may place ads for free. The prospective couple can learn about each other through the security of letters before meeting. If a marriage occurs as a direct result of an ad, the gentleman in question will receive a refund of all fees paid as a reward.”

  “And how do you propose distributing this, erm, newspaper?”

  Delilah ignored the hint of sarcasm in his question. “My father is a newspaperman in Boston. He has agreed to be my distribution partner.”

  “Hmm…interesting…”

  Delilah held her tongue as he looked at her, or rather through her, contemplating her proposal. It was torture to keep herself from babbling, but she’d played her hand. It was his turn now. Each tap of his pencil on his inkblotter was a second of her life ticking away.

  His purple lips pursed again. “Mmm, I’m afraid I can’t help you, Miss Price.”

  Tears burned behind her lids, but Delilah refused to show such weakness in front of this man. “May I inquire as to why, sir?”

  He looked vaguely embarrassed for a moment, but finally met her gaze. “You’re a lady. I can’t, in good conscience, allow a lady to embark on such a suspect endeavor. It’s tantamount to…” He lowered his voice, though she could barely hear him over the rumble of the machinery. “It’s tantamount to prostitution.”

  Her back straightened and flames leapt from her eyes. “Quite the contrary, Mr. Kimble. That particular profession has quite a stronghold in this town already, wouldn’t you agree? My periodical will endeavor to bring soul mates together from afar. It will encourage the sanctity of marriage between two willing and honorable people.”

  Kimble didn’t look convinced. “Perhaps. Or perhaps it will be used for more nefarious purposes. Either way, I don’t believe a woman’s place is coordinating such arrangements. It’s the devil’s work, and I would be surprised if you could find any printer in town who would be willing to contract with you.”

  She was stunned. “But—“

  “You may see yourself out. Good day.” With great effort, Kimble stood and opened a door in the back wall and disappeared.

  She had to get out of there before she broke down. Kimble had been her last hope. Now what would she do? Give up and sail home…if her father would pay for her ticket?

  Every nerve vibrated as she made her way through the shop. It had looked so small before, but seemed to have grown during her short visit. She despaired of ever reaching the front door, especially with that odd man staring at her. His red hair stuck out from his head every which way and he had the most disconcerting goggly green eyes that bore straight into her.

  She dipped her head at him as she moved past him. Finally, she was about to escape!

  “Best o’ luck t’ya, Miss Price. Ye got quite a pair on ye, fer being a lass.”

  It took her a moment to understand his meaning, but the flush on her cheeks told him when she did. He gave her a wink and tipped her a two-fingered salute as she hurried out the door. Though crude, the compliment soothed her fury for a moment, long enough to allow her time to seek relative privacy around the corner of the building.

  Once hidden from view of the street, Delilah pulled a handkerchief from the small drawstring purse she kept in a pocket in her skirts and dabbed the wetness from her eyes. Kimble was her last hope. She’d seen all the other printers in town, and they’d all refused to work with her. Either they believed they were too good to print such trash or they didn’t think a woman could pull off such an endeavor. Regardless, it was over now.

  Her breath hitched as she tried to control herself. If she could just contain herself until she returned to the boarding house…it was normally deserted during the day so it was unlikely anyone would hear her crying in her room. And that’s all she wanted to do right now — cry. Big racking sobs she couldn’t control. Wail in rage at the men who refused to treat her fairly because she was a woman. Despair at what her future held.

  She’d been planning and working so hard to make this dream of hers a reality, it had honestly never occurred to her that her plan might fail. Never for a moment had she thought her fate would be in the hands of men she’d never met, and would never meet again.

  The sobs she’d been trying to hold back threatened
to overcome her. She gulped down breath after breath of air, trying to tamp them down. If she could just get back to Sam’s, she could mourn the death of her dream in peace. Tucking her handkerchief in her sleeve, just in case she needed it on the way home, Delilah stepped from around the corner and was bowled over by a man not paying attention to where he was walking.

  “Oof!” she cried as she landed hard on her behind. Stars of pain sparked in her vision as two strong hands pulled her from a seated position to standing. The thought that kept running through her head was, thank goodness the rains had stopped so the streets were no longer rivers of mud.

  The sound of a woman’s giggles pulled her back into reality. She was vaguely aware that the man’s hands were still around her, pulling her body to his to keep her steady. It was so comforting being tucked up in his arms like that, all she wanted to do was lean into him. Instead, she shook the remaining cobwebs from her head and tried to look at his companion.

  As the woman’s face swam into focus, a man’s voice asked, “You okay, Miss Priss?”

  ~*~*~

  Jack had been sweet-talking Franny — no, Fanny — when Dell had stepped directly into his path. She went sprawling in the dirt and he could almost see Xs in her eyes from the impact. Fanny was giggling uncontrollably as he hurried to help his fallen neighbor. She might be an infuriating busy-body but she didn’t deserve to lie there in the street like that.

  Her swaying concerned him, so he pulled her close to him in case she decided to take another tumble. That heavenly scent of lemon verbena wafted up to him. It was fainter now, but his sensitive nose could still make it out. His arms tightened around her of their own accord.

  Fanny stopped giggling and a glare was starting to cloud her face. He needed to diffuse the situation before she sent Dell sprawling again.

  “You okay, Miss Priss?”

  She stiffened in his arms and tilted her wobbly head back to better see his face. She blinked a few times, probably to clear her blurry vision, and then her eyes went wide. Gasping, she shoved him away from her, stumbling back against the wall of the print shop.

  “Oh my! I’m so…I didn’t mean to…I apologize for running into you like that, Mr. Dalton.”

  “No, it’s my fault as much as yours. I wasn’t lookin’ where I was goin’. Then bam! So, you all right?”

  Delilah thought for a moment, then nodded. “I’m fine. I think I’m fine. Just startled.”

  The door to the print shop jangled open and the strange Irish man popped his wild red head out. “Hey, Jack! Good seein’ ya. Wha’s goin’ on out here?”

  “Hey, Aidan. Everything’s fine. Miss Price and I just had a little run-in, that’s all. Seems to be no harm done.”

  “Well, don’t be damagin’ those goods, Jack. Dat righ’ there is one right special lass. See ya’ later down t’pub?”

  Jack nodded absentmindedly. He was more worried about Dell getting home safely than what shenanigans he’d be getting up to later. Sam would kill him if he’d hurt his little pet.

  “Sure. See you down there later.”

  With Aidan back inside, Jack focused on Dell again. “Are you sure you ain’t hurt? I ran into you pretty hard.”

  She licked her lips and pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, dabbing at her brow. “I’m right as rain. Just a bit shaken is all.”

  There was an awkward silence as they appraised each other. The irritation on Fanny’s face was growing with each passing second.

  “So your appointment musta gone well. Aidan’s no pushover, and he seems to think mighty high of you.”

  Her lips vanished into a thin line and her eyes dropped to the handkerchief she was twisting up in her delicate hands. She shook her head ever so slightly and glanced up at him with bright eyes brimming with tears.

  “Mr. Kimble declined my business,” she whispered.

  “Why?”

  She tilted her head and shrugged. “Same reason as all the others. I’m a woman. He implied that anyone who would start such a venture was of low character.”

  Jack’s gut lurched. He wasn’t so torn up about the paper — he couldn’t understand why so many men wanted to willingly bind themselves to one woman and commit to a life of boredom and responsibility — and there was certainly no love lost between him and Dell, but even he would admit that she probably had the best character of any woman in this filthy rathole of a town, maybe in all of California. He wasn’t about to let some mangy old hard case say otherwise.

  “Why, that pompous, arrogant ass! I oughta…”

  Dell tugged on his arm as he tried to storm into the printer’s office. “No, Mr. Dalton. It’s of no use. He’s made up his mind. It’s over.”

  The defeat in her voice brought him up short. Since he moved into Sam’s, she’d always been confident, polite and kind, but also withdrawn. Except when she was mad at him, she never offered even a whiff of emotion to anyone but Sam.

  “You can call me Jack, you know. It’s only neighborly.”

  He smiled down at her and couldn’t help getting lost in her sad green eyes. Tingles radiated out from where her fingers were lingering on his bicep. After months of backbreaking labor in the foothills, his body was as hard and lean as it had ever been, and he could see in her eyes that she’d never touched a man’s arm like this. For some strange reason, this pleased him.

  Fanny cleared her throat loudly. Jack tore his gaze away from Dell’s and was startled by the rage he saw in Fanny’s. Dell must have seen it too because she let go of his arm and stepped away.

  “I’m so sorry for interrupting your walk…Jack.” She dipped her head at Fanny in farewell.

  “You talk to Franklin Browne yet?”

  Fanny’s question stopped Delilah in her tracks. Both she and Jack were surprised by the suggestion, but for different reasons.

  “Who’s Franklin Browne?”

  Fanny’s face lit up as she sidled up into Jack and started toying with the nugget around his neck.

  “Oh, Frank is the best! He’s kinda new in town but he told me the other night that he’s a printer. I just know that if I put in a good word, he’d work with you. He’s very open-minded. Ooh, and handsome!”

  It wasn’t lost on Jack that Fanny was trying to make him jealous but he honestly couldn’t care less about her other ‘friends’. But he was familiar with this character Franklin and wasn’t at all sure Dell should have anything to do with such a scoundrel.

  “I dunno, Fanny…”

  “But Jack,” she wheedled, a devilish twinkle in her eye. “Didn’t she just say she was out of options? Don’t you want to help your friend?”

  A cold sunk into his belly as she batted her eyelashes at him. It grew even colder when he spotted the fresh hope on Dell’s face.

  “Where might I find Mr. Browne? Do you have his address? Do you think he’s available now?”

  “Listen, Dell—“

  “Oh, Jack, you just want her paper to fail. You’ve told me so a hundred times!” Fanny rolled her eyes dramatically at Dell, who stiffened and narrowed her eyes at him.

  Fanny rattled off where to find Browne’s office. “And be sure to tell him Fanny Sweet sent you, darlin’.”

  “Thank you for your generous referral, Miss Sweet. It’s good to know that some people in this town want to see others succeed. Good day, Mr. Dalton.”

  With a swish of her skirt, Dell stormed off down the street. Jack was tempted to go after, spin her around and forbid her to even speak with that poor excuse for a man but then he remembered he didn’t care one whit about her or her silly paper.

  “The devil with her,” he mumbled as he watched her walk away.

  “What was that, Jack honey?”

  He shifted his attention back to his companion.

  “Nothin’, Franny.”

  Chapter 4

  “Thank goodness you stopped in, Dell. I was worried I might drown in letters and gold for you!”

  Besides Sam, Millie St. James was just about Delilah’s
only friend in town. Ostensibly, her husband ran the post office at the corner of Clay and Pike Streets, but he was a low-down drunkard who spent all his money on liquor and left Millie to do all his work for him.

  In her late 40s and childless, Millie was up before dawn every day to help the miners who came down from the Sierra Nevada to collect their precious mail. Many had left their families at home to seek their fortunes in the west and letters from home were cherished, read over and over until the next batch of letters arrived. Mail came in about every two weeks but didn’t get delivered to the mining camps, so dozens of anxious men lined up early every morning, waiting for Millie to open the doors, and the back room was overflowing with unclaimed letters and packages.

  Steamer days — the days Pacific Mail Steamships arrived in port — were especially stressful because a fresh batch of mail, packages and eastern newspapers would arrive, and men occasionally got injured in the crush of bodies clamoring to get their items first. Millie loved to tell the story of how the clerks barricaded themselves in the previous October for fear of the crowds!

  She was a kindly woman, stout of stature and with the warmest smile Delilah had ever encountered. Ever since she’d explained her plans for the newspaper and that she might be receiving a goodly amount of mail, Millie had been very supportive. Excited, even.

  Over the past few months, they’d grown close. Millie became her surrogate mother and closest confidante. Once, Delilah even summoned up the courage to ask her why she didn’t divorce Otis, her no-account husband. “You know California has very generous laws for women who want to divorce, don’t you? Why stay?”