Accidental Sweetheart

Gideon rubbed the aching spot between his brows. “Then where are Hansen and Clemente?”

“They’ve got the measles.”

“What?”

Gideon knew that Jonah Ramsey, the Mine Superintendent, had been diagnosed with measles by his wife, the only doctor in the area. But as far as he knew, keeping Jonah at home had managed to control the contagious illness.

“Yeah, they’re being quarantined in the Miners’ Hall with a few dozen men. From what I hear, there’s more at the infirmary.”

“How did that happen?”

Winslow shrugged. “The whole thing seems to have come on rather sudden. Some of the women have volunteered to nurse the men and keep the others away. They hung up signs to warn everybody off.”

Measles. How the illness had managed to take root this late in the season—after months spent isolated from the outside world—Gideon didn’t know. But he’d lost two good men.

“Have Tabbington and York come see me.”

“They’re quarantined, too.”

Gideon blinked at him. “You’re kidding.”

“And Billingsly.”

That was five men gone—five men that he couldn’t afford to lose.

“Is that it?”

“As far as I’ve been able to tell.”

Knowing that it would be useless to finish up his paperwork, Gideon pushed himself to his feet and snagged his hat on the way out of the door.

“Where you going, boss?”

“I think it’s time I got to the bottom of this.”

The sun was warm against his face as he strode onto the boardwalk—making the air feel more like mid-May than the end of February. At this rate, they wouldn’t be worrying about how long the pass would take to open up, they’d be worrying about flooding.

Gideon made a mental note to take another ride through the mouth of the canyon. This time, he wouldn’t only be checking the road. He’d be examining the nearby stream as well. He knew full well that the Aspen River was already close to capacity. If the snowpack melted any faster, it would soon overflow its banks and Bachelor Bottoms would have a whole new problem on its hands.

Every time Gideon thought he finally had rudimentary preparations put in place, some new trouble popped up.

Like measles.

He had nearly made his way to the front steps of the Miners’ Hall when a pair of women popped up from the rocking chairs they’d pulled onto the boardwalk. Greta Heigle pointed to a white placard nailed to the porch supports and pointed an uplifted hand in his direction.

“Achtung! Stop!”

Gideon couldn’t account for the way he came to a halt so quickly his hat shifted forward on his brow. Settling it more firmly into place, he took a deep breath to ease the tension twining around his gut like vines.

“Ladies.”

Hannah Peterman joined Greta. The two women were shorter than average, but sturdy, forming an effective blockade.

“Please don’t come any further, Mr. Gault,” Hannah said.

“Quarantine!” Greta barked. The woman had very little English to her vocabulary, but she enunciated the word in a way that made it clear she took her job as guard very seriously.

Gideon braced his hands on his hips. This was uncharted territory for him. As the company’s hired law enforcement, he was usually the one in charge of security—for whatever reasons necessary. On one hand, he supposed that this...quarantine would fall under his purview. On the other hand...

He and his men were already shorthanded.

“What’s this business about a measles outbreak, Hannah?”

He didn’t bother to offer his comments to Greta. At the moment, her fierce expression warned him that she would remove him by force if she felt the measure necessary—and even though she was a good head smaller than he was, Gideon had an inkling that she could do it.

“I’m afraid we’ve had a rash of men coming down with the illness,” Hannah said.

“How on earth...” Gideon bit off his words when his tone filled with frustration—something he didn’t want the women to become privy to. If they knew how shorthanded the Pinkertons were becoming, no doubt they would use that information as part of their argument for allowing the women to remain in the valley for another month. Maybe two.

“I thought Jonah Ramsey was the only one affected—and he’s been off company property for nearly a fortnight.”

In truth, Gideon hadn’t thought that Jonah had contracted the measles at all. He’d suspected that it was Jonah’s way of lingering around the homestead for a few weeks as a makeshift honeymoon. But clearly, the man must have been ill—and now he’d somehow started a contagion.

“Are you sure these men actually have the measles?”

Hannah nodded. “Quite sure.”

“Ja!”

“How can you be sure if the doctor hasn’t been to town to see them?”

Hannah folded her arms. “She told us what to look for and how to treat anyone showing the symptoms.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind my examining the men?”

Both Hannah and Greta took a step forward—and their expressions grew even fiercer.

“If you go in, you don’t come out,” Hannah warned, a hint of steel coating her words.

“Quarantine!” Greta barked at him again.

“If I could speak to my men—”

“You don’t go in. They don’t come out.”

Gideon opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again. If his own men had been this fierce in guarding the women all these months, Gideon probably wouldn’t be in the mess he was in today.

“I need a list of all the men affected. And I want to be kept updated at least twice a day.”