His brow scrunched. “A what?”
“A women’s colony. Only women live here. We run businesses, farms, and manufacture goods to sell. Few of our ladies own horses, so we’ve no need of a livery. If we require a blacksmith or farrier for the horses we do have, we simply travel into Seymour to have the work done.”
“I never heard of no women runnin’ businesses. ’Ceptin’ maybe a laundry. Well . . . and the pleasure houses.” He eyed her closely. “You look too proper for that kinda work, though. And too sober. My ma used to say the drink made the entertainin’ easier. ’Course, it couldn’t have been too easy, ’cause she drank all the time and still ended up dead.” He made the heartbreaking statement with all the pragmatism of a teller reciting his account figures at closing time. “What kinda business do you run?” Skepticism laced his tone. “Maybe I can work for you.”
Emma smoothed the front of her bodice. “I’m a banker.” Pride infused her words, as it always did. Yet this time she felt a great deal of gratitude as well—gratitude that she wasn’t forced to make her living with backbreaking toil, or worse, on her actual back. Maybe she should find work for this boy. “Are you any good with sums?”
“A lady banker?” He scoffed. “Yer pullin’ my leg.”
Then again, maybe she should just push the chauvinistic man-child off his horse.
Emma sighed. No. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t imagine anything as far-fetched as a lady banker. Most males couldn’t. It was probably a defect in the gender as a whole. So instead of pushing him off the horse, she gave him the stare instead. The one that dared him to see past the expected to the possible.
The boy quit laughing. “No foolin’?”
“No foolin’.” There was hope for this one yet. “My bank is just down the road a piece.” She nodded her head in the direction. “I can give you a tour later, if you want.” She held her hand out to him. “I’m Emma Chandler, by the way.”
He’d started reaching for her hand but jerked back. “Emma? Mr. Shaw’s Emma? The angel?”
Angel? Where had that come from? No matter. There was more important information to glean. “You know Mr. Shaw?”
The boy grinned and dropped off the horse so fast, Emma had to leap back to keep her toes from being smashed. “Know him? He and me are partners.” There went the chest sticking out again. The manly display didn’t last long, though. Boyish enthusiasm overpowered it in a blink. “We both worked on the Burlington up in Montana until Mr. Shaw quit four days ago. That’s why I’m here. I brought his stuff.”
Emma stepped backward, the sudden news throwing her off balance. “Malachi quit his job?” Why would he do such a thing? He loved working with the railroads. Was good at it, too. One of the most respected explosive expects in the field. Not that he’d ever made the claim himself. She’d learned of his prowess on her own. After Mal had written her about taking the railroad job, she’d had her broker check into the Chicago, Burlington & Quincy Railroad. The man provided her with glowing reports testifying to the savvy of their investors and the capabilities of their crew, including one Malachi Shaw, touted as the best blaster in the business.
The boy didn’t seem to notice her distress. In fact, he grew increasingly more animated as his enthusiasm took over. “You should’ve seen the boss man’s face when he got Shaw’s telegram. His mouth got all tight, and his nostrils flared like an angry mule right before he starts kickin’. Then he let go with a string of curses that made even my ears burn, and I was born in the rail camps.”
The boy chuckled. “Yep. He was none too happy, but it was his own fault for backin’ Shaw into a corner like that. Tellin’ him he had to report by Friday or be dismissed. I coulda told him that tack wouldn’t work. But did he ask me? Nope. Anyone who’d seen Shaw’s face when he got that telegram from you sayin’ you was in trouble woulda known where to lay his bet. Shaw would never leave his angel until she was safe. Even if it meant givin’ up his job.”
The boy gave her a serious nod, his youthful enthusiasm fading into something more serious. “Mr. Shaw is the only one at the camps who treated me like a real person, not just some lackey to order about. That’s why I watched over his things and brought them to him. What’s important to him is important to me. And I reckon you, Miss Emma, are the most important thing of all.”