First a barn, massive, well constructed, with a stone foundation and a roof that showed recent repair. Then another barn, and what looked like a stable, a workshop with a chimney from which pale smoke rose into the afternoon air, a storehouse with double doors and a loading dock, and finally, set back from the other structures on a slight rise, the lodge itself. Lydia's breath caught. It wasn't a mansion in the city sense, no columns or ornate facades, but it was substantial in a way that defied everything Ethan had implied about his life. Two stories of solid timber construction with wide windows that caught the afternoon light, a wraparound porch, and a stone chimney at each end.
The craftsmanship was evident even from a distance. This was a building meant to last generations, built by people who knew what they were doing and had the resources to do it right. As they approached, Lydia saw people. A man emerged from the workshop, pausing to watch their arrival. Two women crossed between buildings carrying baskets.
A boy who couldn't have been more than 15 led a team of horses toward one of the barns. They all stopped what they were doing when they noticed Ethan, their expressions shifting through surprise to something like relief. " Mr. Crowe, " the man from the workshop called out. He was perhaps 40 with the powerful build of someone who worked with his hands for a living. Didn't expect you back for another week.
Plans changed, Samuel. Ethan dismounted, then moved to help Lydia down from Slate. His hands on her waist were brief and impersonal, but the workers noticed. Their eyes went from Ethan to Lydia and back again, questions forming on every face. " This is my wife, " Ethan said simply. "
Lydia Crowe. She'll be living here. I expect everyone to make her welcome. The silence that followed felt weighted, significant. Samuel's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline.
One of the women, older, gray-haired, with the weathered face of someone who'd spent a lifetime outdoors, smiled slowly, as if something long awaited had finally arrived. " Well, now, " the older woman said, approaching with her hand extended. " That's news worth celebrating. Welcome, Mrs. Crowe. I'm Martha Hayes, the housekeeper.
This has been a bachelor establishment far too long. Lydia shook her hand, finding Martha's grip firm and her eyes shrewd. " Thank you, though I'm not sure what I'm being welcomed to. " " Understanding, " Martha said. " That's what you're being welcomed to, and it'll come in time. "
She shot Ethan a look that held equal parts reproach and amusement. Though I see Mr. Crow has been his usual forthcoming self. Martha, " Ethan said warningly. " Don't you Martha me, Ethan? " Crow.
This poor girl looks like she's walked into a riddle wrapped in a mystery. Martha turned back to Lydia. " Come on, dear. Let's get you settled. The men can handle the horses. "
Before Lydia could respond, Martha had taken her arm and was steering her toward the lodge. Lydia glanced back once to see Ethan watching, his expression unreadable. Then Martha was guiding her up the porch steps and through a heavy oak door into the interior. The inside of the lodge matched the outside for quality and scale. The entryway opened into a large main room with a massive stone fireplace, comfortable furniture that showed use but not abuse, and details that spoke of both money and taste.
A good carpet on the polished wood floor, oil lamps with clean glass chimneys, bookshelves lined with what had to be hundreds of volumes. I'll show you to your room, Martha said, leading her up a staircase of solid timber. Mr. Crow has the master suite on the south end. I've prepared the suite on the north end for you. Separate quarters seemed appropriate given the circumstances.
You knew he was getting married. I knew he'd gone down mountain for a wife. Didn't know if he'd come back with one. Martha opened a door at the end of the upstairs hallway. Here we are.
The room beyond was larger than the entire main room of Lydia's family cabin. A four- poster bed dominated one wall, covered in what looked like a hand-stitched quilt. There was a wardrobe, a dresser with a mirror, a writing desk positioned near the window, and a door that led to what Martha identified as a private washroom. There's running water, Martha said, demonstrating the pump beside the sink. We have a spring-fed system.
Cold water year round, but we can heat water in the kitchen for baths. That door there connects to the master suite, but it locks from both sides. Your privacy is your own, Mrs. Crow. Lydia moved to the window. From here, she could see the entire compound, the barns, the workshops, the gardens she hadn't noticed from below, and beyond the buildings, the forest, and the mountains rising in every direction, sealing this valley off from the outside world.
How many people live here? She asked. Depends on the season. Winter, maybe 20. Summer, closer to 40.
Workers come and go. Some have families in the lower settlements, come up for seasonal work. Others stay year round. Martha paused. We're largely self-sufficient here.
Grow our own food, raise our own livestock, make most of what we need. It's a good life, if somewhat isolated. And what exactly is this place? Martha's smile was sympathetic. That's a question for Mr. Crow, I'm afraid.
It's not my story to tell. But I will say this. Whatever you're thinking, whatever you're worried about, it's probably not as bad as your imagination is making it. Ethan's a good man, Mrs. Crow. Complicated, certainly.
Secretive, absolutely, but good. A knock came at the door. Ethan's voice called, "May I come in? " Martha glanced at Lydia, who nodded. The housekeeper opened the door and slipped out, leaving husband and wife alone in the too large room that was somehow supposed to become Lydia's home.
Ethan had cleaned up, washed his face, changed his shirt. He looked younger without the trail dust, but also more formal, as if he'd put on armor along with the fresh clothes. I imagine you have questions, he said. That's an understatement. Then ask them.
I promised you an hour. We're here. Lydia turned from the window to face him fully. What is this place? A timber operation.
My family has holdings throughout these mountains. Contracts to harvest and process lumber for the railroad expansion, for mining operations, for the growing towns in the territory. This valley is the center of those operations. Your family, you said you were a poor mountain man. I never said that.
You assumed it based on my clothes and the fact that I lived alone in the high country. His expression was carefully neutral. I didn't correct you because I wanted to know if you'd marry me for myself, not for what I own. Anger flared hot in Lydia's chest. So, this was a test.
You let me think I was trading myself for scraps. Let me agonize over marrying a stranger who might not even be able to feed me properly just to see if I'd pass some moral examination. No. Ethan's voice was sharp. I let you make an informed choice.