Better Than Gold Read online

  Copyright

  ISBN 978-1-60260-048-5

  Copyright © 2008 by Laurie Alice Eakes. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  One

  1876

  Valentine party perfect STOP F proposed STOP Accepted STOP Marrying in June STOP

  Lily Reese keyed in the telegram that had originated in Philadelphia and would speed along the wires from station to station until it reached its destination somewhere in Kansas. With each click of the code she knew well enough to produce in her sleep after three years as an operator, this kind of news never failed to thrill her.

  Nor make her daydream.

  Shivering in her tiny office to one side of the Browning City, Iowa, railway station, Lily imagined herself as the recipient of a proposal on Valentine’s Day. She would wear a red silk dress, though it wasn’t the best color for her blond hair, blue eyes, and fair complexion. Pink looked better. And Matt Campbell would walk her home through a frosty night with stars blazing above like crystal beads. He would go down on one knee. . . .

  All right, she didn’t know him quite well enough to be in love with him or for him to be in love with her. Yet Valentine’s Day had spoken of romance for so long, it might put the notion of working toward a proposal in his head.

  The clacking of the machine yanked her back to the present. Since the last of her family had died three years earlier, leaving her completely alone and causing her to lose the farm, she had to earn her living, and that meant sending and receiving telegrams, not fussing over what had not happened on February 14.

  This was February 15, and those crystal beads had not been stars. They proved to be frozen rain descending as ice so thick no one had attended the party Lily planned as an excuse to invite Matt to the house where she boarded. She wanted to impress him with her applesauce cake and excellent coffee. And her new dress. It was wool, not silk. It did, however, boast falls of fine, white lace she had crocheted herself. Yet one more Iowa storm prevented her entertainment and a chance to make progress with her romantic intentions. Now Matt had departed on the morning train and would not return for several days since he worked for the railroad and traveled a great deal.

  “Lucky Matt.” She sighed then concentrated on another message coming through.

  Arriving afternoon train STOP Look forward to meeting you STOP Your long-lost great-nephew Ben Purcell STOP

  ❧

  Lily blinked. No, she was not mistaken. The message was indeed meant for Deborah Twining, the elderly lady with whom Lily lived. Mrs. Twining allowed Lily to stay in her small home’s only spare bedroom free of charge in exchange for Lily performing most of the household tasks of cooking and cleaning. Lily owed Mrs. Twining so much, from providing her a place to live to the older woman using her influence in town to get Lily hired at Western Union—first as a messenger and then as a telegraph operator, despite her lack of experience. She wanted nothing to upset her landlady and friend. But this message could, coming so abruptly. The train to which the telegram referred was due to arrive within the next five minutes.

  “Someone was asleep on the job.” Lily frowned at the message. She could never get it delivered before the train pulled into the station. She should have received the message at her telegraph hours earlier.

  “Why are you frowning, Miss Lily?” Theo Forsling, the ticket agent who also served as the porter, poked his grizzled head around the edge of the door. “Someone send you bad news?”

  “No.” At least she hoped it would not prove to be bad news. “Someone in Davenport must have been asleep at his station. This message was supposed to arrive this morning.”

  “Better late than never.” The old man chuckled.

  “I’m not sure that’s true with this.” Lily waved the flimsy piece of paper in the air. “It’s about a passenger arriving—” The blast of a whistle interrupted her. “On this train.”

  “Good. Good. If someone is actu’ly arriving to stay a piece, they may need a porter.” Grinning, he closed the door. Through the window, she saw him heading for the platform.

  She also noticed Tom Bailyn, the owner of the new mercantile; Lars Gilchrist, owner of the other mercantile and the livery; and Jake Doerfel, the newspaper owner and editor. The store owners were likely there to pick up supplies from the train. Jake met every train hoping for a story.

  “And I have one for you.” She jumped off her stool and dashed out the door. “Jake? Mr. Gilchrist?”

  At her call, all four men on the platform turned around.

  “I need someone to deliver this to Mrs. Twining immediately.” She waved the slip of yellow paper in the icy wind pouring through the open-sided depot. “It’s about her nephew arriving.”

  The train chugged around the corner at that moment, the squeal of brakes and hiss of steam drowning out her words. Apparently, however, she had said enough. All the men except for the porter jogged back to her.

  “He’s my new livery manager, you know.” Mr. Gilchrist took the telegram into his sausage-sized fingers. “Didn’t expect him until next week but makes sense he’d come before starting work. Things aren’t quite ready for him, I’m afraid.”

  “But he’s the new man in town?” Jake, not much taller than Lily, bobbed up and down on his toes, as though trying to make himself as tall as the two store owners. They towered over him by at least a full head. “Single? Do you know if he’s single? Is it true Mrs. Twining only learned of his whereabouts two weeks ago? Why didn’t he ever contact her?”

  “Please,” Lily said between giggles. “They knew one another when Mr. Purcell was a child, but for the rest, you’ll have to ask him or Mrs. Twining.”

  “You mean you live with her and don’t know the answers?” Jake shook his head. “Don’t believe that for a minute, Miss Lily.”

  “Maybe,” Tom drawled in his rumbling baritone, “she doesn’t think it’s right to tell you private information about someone else.”

  “You’re right, Tom.” Lily gave him a smile. “I learned most of what I know from telegrams and from Mrs. Twining, so I can’t breathe a word about it to anyone except her. And now that I mention telegrams, I must get back to my machine. Will one of you gentlemen be so kind?”

  The station needed a regular messenger, as she had been when she first started working for the company, but no one had replaced the lad who had run off to hunt for gold in Colorado the year before.

  “I’ll be happy to deliver it, Miss Lily.” Mr. Gilchrist patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry about that. I walk right past her house on the way to the store.”

  “But if I take it, I can get some answers out of her.” Jake reached for the telegram. “She’s been a bit closemouthed about this nephew of hers.”

  “She told me enough to convince me to hire him.” Mr. Gilchrist raised it out of the smaller man’s reach.

  Laughing, Lily retreated to her office. Through the window, she saw the three men still talking—or perhaps arguing—as they moved out of her line of sight.

  She wished she could see the platform from where she sat. Although more freight unloaded from the trains than pas
sengers, sometimes the travelers stepped from the cars and milled about to get some fresh air. On the occasions she was able to be outside and see them, Lily took in every detail of the ladies’ fashions, from their hats to their gowns to their shoes. Occasionally she peeked at the gentlemen, too. If a handsome prince existed, he would have to step off that train to see her, sweep her off her feet, and carry her away to the bright lights and lively company of Chicago, Philadelphia, or even New York. Which city didn’t matter so long as it had pavement, bright lights, and lots and lots of people.

  She possessed high standards for the gentleman with whom she would someday share her life. He needed to be more than handsome; he needed to be entertaining, energetic, and a Christian.

  Matt fit all those requirements except the entertaining part. He remained a bit too quiet around her. Maybe he was shy. No matter. She could fix that, and among others, one quiet person mattered less. He was fine to look at, and when he sang hymns in church, her heart just melted.

  She glanced toward the window, again wishing she could see the platform. She wanted a glimpse of Mrs. Twining’s nephew before he got into town and everyone else saw him first. If Toby, the young man who took the next shift, arrived a few minutes early instead of his usual few minutes late, she would be outside and on her way home in time to catch a glimpse of Ben Purcell, if not meet him outright. Meet the man whose existence could change her life and not for the better.

  “Miss Lily?” someone spoke as he opened the door.

  Lily glanced up at one of the railroad engineers. “Something wrong, sir?”

  “Nothing serious. Just some bad track between here and Davenport. Probably ice damage. Will you send that back to Davenport?”

  “Yes, sir, of course.” Lily began to key in the message with the further specifics the engineer gave her.

  “Thank you.” He tipped his hat and headed back to the train.

  Lily followed his progress. She saw no one in the depot.

  She sighed. “Must have missed him. Now Becky and Eva will likely see him first.” She frowned at her machine.

  “Hey, and I’m even on time tonight.” Toby shuffled in on feet that always appeared far too big for his spindly legs. “So what’s the long face about?”

  “I wanted to see someone is all.” Lily hopped off her stool and snatched up her coat and hat.

  “Mrs. Twining’s nephew?” Toby took his place before the telegraph machine.

  “How did you know?”

  “Got hooked into delivering that telegram to her.” He began to write his time of arrival in the log. “But you haven’t missed him. He’s still on the platform talking to Theo.”

  “Thank you.” Lily settled her hat on her head with the aid of her reflection in the window, bade Toby good night, then left the office.

  Toby was right. The stranger still stood on the platform with Theo. She thought going up to him would be too forward, since he wasn’t her relative. At the same time, she could hardly stay around the depot waiting for him to walk past.

  She would simply head home at a leisurely pace and hope he caught up with her.

  She must know how readily Mrs. Twining would accept him. Or prefer his company over Lily’s.

  ❧

  Ben Purcell strode down the platform toward the baggage car. Stretching his legs after the daylong trip in the crowded railway coach felt wonderful. So did being in the fresh air. He inhaled. Despite the sting of coal smoke, the wind blowing off Iowa’s rolling hills surrounded him with the crisp aromas of wet earth, animals, and open space. He smiled and stepped to the side of the baggage car, where a stocky older man prepared to heave Ben’s heavy trunk onto the platform.

  “Let me.” Ben set down his valise and grabbed one end of the trunk to help the porter ease it onto the platform.

  “What ya got in there? Gold?” The porter cackled. “Not that anyone brings gold into Browning City. Some have come huntin’ for gold over the years, though.”

  “No gold for me.” Ben retrieved his valise from the plat-form, since it, not the trunk, held his worldly wealth in greenbacks, not gold. “I’ve come here to work.”

  “Yep. Thought so.” The porter jumped from the railroad car and sauntered over to a handcart. “Need me to take that to the hotel for you? Your room at the livery isn’t ready yet ’cause you’re early. And Miz Twining ain’t got room for you with Miss Lily living there.”

  Ben stared at him. “You know who I am?”

  “Ben Purcell, right?” This time, the porter threw back his head and emitted a bellow of mirth.

  Everyone on the platform turned to stare. Two big, blond men laughed, too, before turning away, carrying yard-high crates as though they were no larger than matchboxes.

  Ben grinned. “You got me there, sir. How did you know who I am?”

  “Everyone in town knows you’re expected.”

  “I suppose they would.”

  If Great-Aunt Deborah told everyone about his imminent arrival, of course they would know. Ben hoped she had—and with as much excitement as he’d experienced every day since finding her address and then the advertisement for a manager needed at the livery. It was more than an answer to prayer.

  It was a sign that the Lord said, “It’s time for you to find your permanent place in the world.”

  “So is it the hotel?” The porter repeated his earlier question.

  Ben still hesitated. He wished to meet his great-aunt as soon as possible—reacquaint himself, to be truthful. But twenty years’ separation was a long time.

  “You’ll want to freshen up a mite before meeting Miz Twining.” The porter gave Ben a sidelong glance.

  “You’re right.” Ben headed down the platform. “The hotel, then.”

  “Mrs. Meddler will take good care of you.” The handcart trundled in Ben’s wake. “She’ll—”

  A hiss of steam and increased engine power drowned out the rest of the porter’s words as the train accelerated. Railway cars slid past. People stared out the windows. A few people to whom Ben had spoken during the trip waved to him. He paused to wave back until the train picked up speed and the faces became blurs then disappeared altogether. Baggage and freight cars followed, speeding the passengers and goods farther west to more open and inexpensive land.

  But Ben had family in Browning City.

  Family!

  “How far is it to the hotel?” He turned to the porter. “Can you push that all the way?”

  “I most certainly can.” The man straightened his shoulders and jutted out his chin. “Been known to push two at once when necessary. You ask anyone about Theo Forsling. Strongest man in Iowa.” He grinned. “Once upon a time. Won the plowing contest three years running before the rheumatism got into my knees. Mr. John Deere himself was here in seventy-one.”

  “John Deere himself, eh?” Ben held out his hand. “Then I’m honored to have you meet me at the train, Mr. Forsling.”

  “Ah, shucks, no mister to me.” Forsling fairly glowed as he gripped Ben’s hand in a powerful clasp. “I’m Theo to everybody in these parts. And speaking of these parts. . .” He released Ben’s hand and shoved the cart to the end of the platform. “Better get a move on before we freeze where we stand.”

  “It is a powerful wind.” Ben paced forward, his free hand shoved into his pocket.

  With the train gone, fresh air swirled around him. He flared his nostrils to take in as much as he could. With every breath, he felt a little more of the city stink leaving his body. He had walked on Iowa soil for less than a quarter hour and already he could not understand why his father had traded the prairie for the road and city.

  Actually for many cities, each dirtier and more crowded than the last.

  “Like it?” Theo trotted beside Ben despite his claim to having bad knees.

  “So far.”

  They left the depot. A skinny youth hunched over the telegraph machine waved to them. Ben waved back.

  “Looks like Miss Lily has gone on home.” Theo in
creased his pace on the road that headed into town. “But maybe we’ll catch her up yet. Prettiest girl in Browning City.”

  “Lily.” The name sounded familiar to Ben, but he couldn’t place it at the moment. The one letter from his aunt had been full of names.

  “Yep. Lily Reese, the daytime telegraph op—ah, there she is.” Theo shot up his left arm to indicate a diminutive figure gliding along the road as though she stepped over a boardwalk rather than an icy street. Between a jaunty wool bonnet and heavy coat, blond hair gleamed in the twilight. Pale gold hair. Wheat gold hair.

  “I see what you mean about hunting gold here,” Ben murmured.

  “Haw, haw, haw,” Theo bellowed, slapping his leg.

  The young woman stopped and turned. Her delicate features went well with her shining hair and fine form. She stood too far away for Ben to catch the color of her eyes in the fading light, but he guessed they would be blue. Sky blue.

  “That yeller hair of hers ain’t what I meant by folks hunting gold around here.” Theo grinned. “But it’ll do for a start. Step it up, boy; I’ll introduce you.”

  “Yes, sir.” Ben stepped it up.

  Their footfalls crunched on the icy gravel. The cart trundled like distant thunder. A crack like a tree branch breaking under a load of ice echoed above the deeper tones of wheels and heels.

  The last thing Ben remembered was feeling something slam into the side of his head.

  Two

  With a shriek of horror, Lily raced back to the newcomer. She slipped in the frozen mud on the road. Her knee twisted, sending pain shooting up her leg. She ignored it and sprinted the last dozen feet to where the man lay.

  “What happened?” She dropped to her knees beside him, wincing. “Did he miss his footing?”

  “No, Miss Lily.” Theo sank to the ground across from her with a creaking and popping of joints. “He was shot.”

  She gasped. “Shot? With what?”

  “Rifle.”

  “Nonsense. We’re too close to town.” Her own heart racing, Lily touched the side of the stranger’s neck, feeling for a pulse. “That was only a tree branch cracking under the weight of ice. Oh, praise God, his heartbeat is strong. He only stunned himself—” She broke off as warm stickiness soaked through her mittens. “Theo?” Her voice felt strangled in her throat. “He’s bleeding.”