Wanted- Developer Page 4

  “Please give my cards to the business owners who might be interested in my bricks.” He laid a stack of cards on the desk.

  “You are aware, Mr. Holt, that you will be dealing with women who run the businesses in this town.” Belle had straightened in her seat and taken on a rather imperious tone. “The women of Silverpines took the reins of the businesses when the disaster took the men. They are and will be part of each decision made for the various companies.”

  Denver waited to see how Holt would react to the spitfire who was his assistant.

  “I’ve heard of the strength and tenacity of the Silverpines women. I would be a fool to think they won’t be involved.”

  Belle relaxed and Denver hid a smile at her audacity toward the tycoon by drawing his fingers down each side of his mouth.

  ~~~~~

  Belle’s feet hurt. They’d spent all morning going from one business owner to another. It was the second day they had done so. She had a notebook with pages full of needs, comments, and ideas from each. She hoped the clouds didn’t portent rain as she didn’t want them to get wet and smear the ink.

  The warehouse and building owners of the lots where Denver proposed to put the city hall, fire and police departments were agreeable to the price the council was offering. They were willing to move their locations.

  There was another thing the town should have. Denver was wanting to build a hospital in Silverpines and needed the doctors’ support. They were meeting for lunch in a private room at the inn. Belle was just glad they would be able to sit down. Most of the time the talks were held standing as the men and women were clearing the debris from their lots.

  Dr. Robert Childs and his wife, Dr. Hattie Childs, as well as Dr. Chelsea Winters were waiting in the lobby when they arrived. Ella Grace ushered them into the room and gave them all menus. It wasn’t long before a waitress came and took their orders.

  Once they were alone, Dr. Robert Childs asked, “So, what are you wanting to speak with us about?”

  Belle sat silently listening to Denver as he explained his idea.

  “You all have done well serving the community with your clinic and apothecary. Everyone is very thankful that your building was only damaged by smoke.” Denver paused when the waitress arrived with their drinks. “As you know, the council is building a city hall, establishing a fire department, and building a new police station. Marshal Sewell is glad to be expanding his facility.

  “With all the new construction and modernization going on, I’m hoping you’ll support what else I’d like to bring to Silverpines.”

  Dr. Winters chuckled. “I bet I know what you have in mind.”

  Belle hid a grin and watched Denver as his face lit up. “Since you are the doctors in town, I’m sure you do. I’m hoping to get funding from the council to build a hospital. It’s a major investment which might be more than the city can afford with all the other improvements being made. I’d like your support for at least establishing a fund to build a hospital as soon as possible.”

  “What will become of the clinic and my apothecary?” Dr. Hattie asked.

  “My thought is to have you continue as you have been, just not have the beds for patients needing hospital care. You’d have a modern hospital with patient rooms, therapy, as well as a room dedicated to surgery. I’m hoping to have a maternity ward so women don’t need to give birth at home.”

  Their meals were delivered, and the conversation centered around questions and suggestions the doctors had. Belle was pleased that all three doctors were in favor of the idea.

  “Where are you thinking of building the hospital?” Dr. Robert Childs asked.

  “Between Sixth and Seventh Avenues along Cedar Street. It’s close to the residential areas and not far from the clinic. There’s a block closer to the downtown but I didn’t want to put the hospital right next to the cemetery.”

  Everyone chuckled. “No, not a good view from a hospital room window,” Dr. Hattie said.

  “I’m hoping that either some houses or a business will build on that block. It would screen the view somewhat.” Denver sipped his coffee.

  “Belle,” Dr. Winters said. “What would you think about having a maternity ward? Would you want to give birth in a hospital?”

  She could feel heat rush up her cheeks. “I suppose. I gave birth to both my children at home. I always worried about something going wrong and not having good medical care, not that you aren’t very capable, Hattie. You made the births as safe and easy as possible. But if something went wrong with me or the baby, having more medical people to help would be comforting.”

  Feeling Denver’s eyes on her, Belle picked up her cup of tea and pretended to take a sip. Speaking of such a personal topic as childbirth with a man was embarrassing.

  “We’ll be having another council meeting soon. I’d appreciate it if you would attend and explain the benefits of having a hospital in town.” Denver looked at each doctor.

  “Just let us know when and we’ll be there.” Dr. Childs stood. “I have afternoon appointments, and I know Hattie has some house calls to make. I’d like her to finish before it rains.”

  “I have a full afternoon also.” Dr. Winters pulled her gloves on as she rose.

  As the trio left, Belle glanced over the dirty dishes on the table. She kept her lips from pulling into a smile when she noticed the few bites left on Denver’s plate were arranged in a square, the cutlery in order from knife through spoon evenly spaced on the plate, and his napkin folded in a rectangle. She wanted to mess up the neat arrangement but picked up her umbrella instead.

  “That went well, don’t you think?” Belle asked as she led him from the room. She opened her umbrella when they went outside just in case it began raining. Denver ducked as she swung around to look at him. “Oh, did I almost hit you with this?”

  “Only for about the fourth time today. Why do you carry that thing all the time?”

  “Oh, I don’t always have this one. I have parasols to keep the sun off my face and umbrellas in case it rains. Some are lace and wouldn’t keep much rain off my head. If it’s not sunny, I want to be sure I’m ready in case it rains.”

  “I need to be ready all the time to keep from getting smacked or poked,” he muttered.

  ~~~~~

  Denver and Belle were hurrying from measuring the layout for the new water plant. The floor plans he’d sent for had come and he wanted to make sure what they had laid out for the building matched the plans. It seemed Belle’s umbrella would come in handy as the clouds that had covered the sky all day were now black and heavy.

  “Come on, let’s cross the blocks rather than going by the streets. We’ll get to the office faster.” Denver grabbed Belle’s hand and pulled her along.

  “I should just head home. It’s past quitting time.”

  “The office is closer.”

  Large drops started falling. It quickly turned to a raging downpour. Denver took the umbrella and drew Belle against his side, his arm around her shoulder. He hurried them along, crossing the burned remnants of the downtown. The streets became mud and the remaining ash made it even slipperier. Lightning and thunder startled them and Belle nearly fell. He caught her to him to steady her.

  As they were crossing what had been the post office, there was a crack that sounded like thunder, but it came from below. The boards of the floor collapsed and they fell through, Belle’s umbrella flying from his hand.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The fall was longer than he’d anticipated. They hit the ground, Belle landing on top of him. Her face was nestled against his neck, which made his chest tighten. Or was it the pain in his back that caused it?

  Burned wood, soggy ashes, mud, and splinters, as well as water rained down on them. Belle groaned and pushed herself up, her hands on his chest.

  “What happened?” She looked around in the darkness.

  Denver felt her body pressing on his and his beginning to respond. Not wanting to simply dump her on the ground he held
her and shifted until he was sitting with her on his lap. Rain was falling through the hole in the floor above, drenching them. “Get up. We need to get out of the downpour. It’s raining cats and dogs.”

  It was easier for him to rise than her in her skirts, so he helped her to stand. He pulled her back so they were under a remaining part of the floor.

  “What is this place?” Belle asked, looking around in the gloom.

  “A basement, I’d say. I didn’t know the post office had a basement.”

  “Neither did I. Especially one so deep.”

  Denver reached up, trying to touch the floor joists. Even stretching, he barely was able to. “Are there stairs? We need to get out of here.”

  It was too dark to see well, so they separated and felt along the walls. They were dirt, which surprised Denver. Seems whoever built the post office didn’t really care if the foundation was good.

  “Denver?” Belle’s voice was quavering. It seemed more distant than it should.

  “Belle, where are you?”

  “I don’t know. I think I went too far. I was feeling the wall and it just kept going.” A clang sounded, then, “Ouch.”

  “Are you okay?” He followed the sound of her voice and finally found her kneeling.

  “I tripped over something.”

  Bending down, Denver felt first her, then whatever she’d tripped over.

  “It’s a lantern.” She grabbed his hand, placing it on the metal of the shielded lantern. “Do you suppose there’s oil in it? And matches?”

  He could hear her feeling around on the dirt floor. He picked up the lantern and shook it. The sloshing sound told him it had at least some oil.

  “Ah ha. A match safe.” She shook it. “With matches.” She struck one and they looked at each other in the dimness. “Hurry, open the lantern.”

  Denver did as told and soon they had light. He held it up and looked both ways. They were in a tunnel. The sound of the rain behind him gave him a sense of direction. “I wonder where this goes.”

  “I don’t know. Didn’t even know there was a basement here, let alone a tunnel.”

  Rainwater was trickling along the floor from the room they’d fallen into.

  ~~~~~

  Belle clung to Denver’s jacket as they proceeded cautiously along the tunnel. There were support beams placed periodically.

  “Whoever dug this wanted to be sure it didn’t cave in on them.” Denver pushed on a beam.

  “Don’t do that. It might fall on us,” Belle squealed.

  “It’s stable. That’s why I pushed on it, to see if it was sturdy.”

  “Well, don’t do it again.” She hated that she sounded so chicken, but being here in the darkness with only a few pieces of wood to hold up the ceiling just gave her the willies. She definitely didn’t appreciate it when Denver chuckled. She shuffled behind him as he cautiously proceeded.

  “What’s this?” Denver stopped as more beams became visible on the wall. Slowly moving forward, he peeked around the edge and held the lantern out. Belle leaned forward under his arm.

  A small room was carved out and supported with more beams. Several barrels and crates were lined along the walls. As they moved into the room, they saw that dirt had fallen from the ceiling coating the items in a thin layer of dust and clumps.

  Denver approached a barrel, holding the lantern close. “Looks and smells like whiskey. I’ll bet it’s not seen the excise man.” She could see a slight grin on his face. Burned into the barrel was the date 1884.

  “That’s eight years after Silverpines was founded,” Belle said. “It’s been down here a long time.”

  “Very likely. What else do we have here?” Denver moved the light to a crate. It was nailed shut. “Is there a crowbar or hammer around?”

  They searched and found a crowbar beside another crate. Denver pried the top off. Inside was sawdust.

  “Ha, I’ll bet it’s more liquor.” He dug through the sawdust and pulled out a bottle.

  “What kind is it?” Belle examined the brown bottle he held.

  “Brandy. No tax stamp on this either.”

  “Is there a date?”

  Denver turned the bottle in his hand. “1889.”

  “I think the post office was built in 1885. Do you think Mrs. Wallace knows about this?” Belle couldn’t keep a wicked grin off her face.

  “How long has she been running the post office?”

  “Just since her husband died in the mine rescue.”

  “Do you think Mr. Wallace would have known about this?” Denver put the bottle back in the crate and set the lid on it. He placed the lantern on top to illuminate the next crate.

  Belle giggled. “If he had we wouldn’t be finding it here. He liked to take a nip once in a while, if you know what I mean.”

  Denver moved to the crate they’d found the crowbar next to. He brushed the dirt off the top. There were no markings on the top or sides.

  “Let me move this and see if there’s a label on the back.” He shoved, but the crate didn’t move. “Sheesh, that’s heavy.” He picked up the bar and started levering off the top.

  “What do you suppose is in it? Gold?” Belle fixed her eyes on the box.

  Denver laughed. “Probably lead shot, or bullets. They’d make it difficult to move. Heavy.”

  With a crack of wood, the lip flipped off. Inside was a burlap bag fastened with a wire. Denver untwisted the wire and opened the bag. The light of the lantern hit what was inside. It glowed yellow.

  Belle’s hands went to her mouth in astonishment as she gasped. Denver fell on his knees.

  “Oh my word. You were right, Belle. This thing is full of gold nuggets.”

  They simply stared at the crate and its contents for several long moments.

  “Whose do you suppose it is?” Belle whispered.

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to tell Luther and the marshal. This could be stolen from some payroll or from a mine.”

  “How long do you suppose it’s been here?”

  “At least ten years, I’d think. The earliest the brandy could be here is 1889. That’s the date it was bottled. The whiskey was probably here longer.”

  Belle looked at the other two crates. “What’s in these?”

  Denver made short work of opening them. “This is lamp oil. That’ll help us get through the night.” In the other was moldy hardtack.

  “Yuck.” Belle held her nose while Denver replace the lid.

  He picked up a tin of lamp oil. “Do you want to explore further down the passage?”

  “I need to get home. My children will be wondering where I am. I don’t want to scare them by being any later.”

  “Okay, we’ll head back to under the post office. Hopefully, there’s a staircase or mound of dirt we can use to get out.”

  Denver held the lantern in one hand and Belle’s with the other as they retraced their way back to where they fell through. She didn’t want to think of how nice his hand felt, but couldn’t banish fantasies from entering her head.

  ~~~~~

  “There isn’t any way to get out of here. How did they think to move the contraband into the town if they couldn’t get out of this basement?” Belle stood with her hands on her hips.

  Denver held the lantern next to a corner, inspecting the wall and a pile of rotten wood on the floor. “I think there was a ladder or crude stairs here at one time.” He picked up a board to show her, then dropped it again.

  Rain was still pouring through the hole they’d made when they fell through the floor. It wasn’t coming down as ferociously, but was still hard enough that he didn’t think anyone would be out looking for them. Mrs. Stewart would be home with Belle’s children and needing to put them to bed soon. She wouldn’t want to take them out in the storm. Lightning still danced across the sky followed by thundering rumbles.

  “We aren’t going to get out of here until tomorrow, are we?” Belle’s question was weak and quivery.

  Denver went to stand be
side her near the entrance to the tunnel. “No, I don’t think so, unless you think your mother-in-law would take the children to the marshal’s office through the rain.”

  Belle just shook her head. She’d wrapped her arms around herself. Denver couldn’t decide if it was because she was forlorn and worried, or because she was cold. Maybe a little bit of each. They were both wet and the continued rain didn’t help, nor did the temperature falling with the night deepening.

  “Let’s go back to the treasure room. It’s drier there. The floor is higher than the tunnel floor so the water won’t run in it. At least we’ll be able to sit on dry dirt instead of in the mud.” Denver took her hand and led her into the tunnel. She trudged behind him, not really paying attention as they walked.

  When they got to the treasure room, Denver dug two more tins of oil from the crate, then set the lantern and tins on the crate containing the gold. There was room between it and the corner, so he sat down and pulled her onto his lap. She was cold. He could feel her shivering. Leaning forward, he was able to remove his coat. When he pulled her against his chest, Belle began to protest.

  “Stop, Belle. We need to conserve our heat. This is the best way.” He leaned back against the wall, wrapped his coat around her back tucking the sleeves behind him against the wall and corner. Carefully, he slipped his arms around her, pulling her closer. A grin tweaked his lips when she relaxed against his chest and laid her head on his shoulder.

  The sound of weeping wiped the small smile from his face. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart. In the morning, we can go back to the basement and call out. Someone will find us.”

  “I know. I’m just worried about Connor and Neva. They’ll be convinced I’m dead, just like their father.” Her weeping turned to sobs.

  Denver laid his cheek on Belle’s head. She’d lost her hat, most likely when they fell. Her hair was soft and beginning to fall from its coiffure. Tendrils were drying and the curls and waves tickled his nose.

  He hated their situation, but liked that she was in his arms. She felt right there. He hoped she felt the same, because they had no choice. Their future was set before them.