PART 2: THE MOUNTAIN MAN’S UNEXPECTED OFFER

Matilda slowly raised her eyes.

She expected disgust.

She expected laughter.

Instead, she found Jedodiah Boon staring at her with an expression she couldn’t understand.

The enormous mountain man leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table.

“How long have you been cooking like this?”

Matilda blinked.

“Since I was twelve, sir.”

“And who taught you?”

“My mother. She cooked for a logging camp before she pᴀssed.”

Jedodiah looked down at his bowl. He dragged the wooden spoon through the thick broth, studying the pieces of meat as if they contained a memory.

“Thirty years,” he muttered.

Matilda frowned. “Sir?”

“Thirty years since I’ve tasted food that reminded me of home.”

A strange silence fell over the room.

One of the miners chuckled.

“Well, I’ll be damned. The giant likes the fat girl’s cooking!”

A few men laughed.

Matilda’s cheeks burned.

But before she could retreat, Jedodiah slowly turned his head.

The laughter died.

“What’s funny?”

The miner shrugged, suddenly fascinated by his empty glᴀss.

Jedodiah stood.

At nearly seven feet tall, he seemed to swallow the light from the room. His enormous shoulders stretched beneath the grizzly pelt, and his pale eyes moved from one man to another.

“That woman just served me the finest meal I’ve eaten in years. And you think her appearance is something to laugh about?”

Nobody answered.

He turned back to Matilda.

“What’s your name?”

“Matilda, sir. Matilda Grace.”

“Well, Matilda Grace, you’ve got more talent in that little finger than half the cooks I’ve met in twenty years.”

For the first time in years, someone had praised her without asking for something in return.

She didn’t know what to say.

Abigail Thatcher, however, wasn’t pleased.

“Mr. Boon, she’s only a kitchen servant. Nothing special. I could find another girl tomorrow.”

Jedodiah’s eyes narrowed.

“Could you?”

“Certainly.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

Abigail’s mouth opened, but no answer came.

The mountain man picked up his bowl and finished the remaining stew.

Then he placed three silver dollars on the table.

“That’s for the meal.”

Abigail immediately reached for the coins.

Jedodiah covered them with his enormous hand.

“Not yours.”

He pushed the money toward Matilda.

Her eyes widened.

“I can’t take that, sir.”

“You can.”

“Mrs. Thatcher pays my wages.”

“Then this is payment for something she hasn’t paid you for.”

Abigail’s face turned crimson.

“She’s my employee! You have no business interfering!”

Jedodiah didn’t argue.

He simply looked at Matilda.

“How much do you earn?”

Matilda hesitated.

“Three dollars a month.”

A miner nearly choked on his whiskey.

Jedodiah slowly turned toward Abigail.

“Three dollars?”

“She gets her meals and a roof over her head!” Abigail snapped.

“She works fourteen hours a day,” Matilda whispered.

The words escaped before she could stop them.

Abigail spun around.

“You ungrateful little—”

Her hand struck Matilda across the cheek.

The sound cracked through the dining room.

Matilda staggered backward, one hand flying to her face.

“Don’t you dare contradict me in front of my customers!”

Jedodiah’s chair scraped violently across the floor.

He stood so quickly that the table shook.

“Touch her again,” he said quietly, “and you’ll answer to me.”

Abigail took a step backward.

But she wasn’t finished.

She pointed toward the kitchen.

“Get out! You’re fired! And since you’re so fond of complaining about the weather, you can take the laundry to the supply shed. Now!”

Matilda stared at her.

“Mrs. Thatcher, please. The storm is getting worse.”

“Then you’d better hurry.”

Abigail threw a bundle of wet laundry toward her.

“Maybe the cold will teach you some graтιтude.”

Matilda looked through the window.

The snow was falling so thickly that the buildings across the street had almost disappeared.

“Please,” she whispered. “I’ll die out there.”

A few men lowered their eyes.

Nobody moved.

Then Jedodiah stepped between Matilda and the door.

“She isn’t going anywhere.”

Abigail planted her hands on her hips.

“Who do you think you are?”

He reached for his heavy fur coat.

“The man who’s taking her home.”

Matilda looked up at him in disbelief.

“Sir, I don’t have a home.”

Jedodiah paused.

For a moment, something changed in his expression.

“Then we’ll find you one.”

He took the laundry bundle from her trembling arms and dropped it onto the floor.

Then he turned toward the entrance.

“Get your coat, Matilda.”

She didn’t move.

“Why are you helping me?”

Jedodiah looked down at her.

“Because twenty-three years ago, someone helped my family when nobody else would.”

He opened the door.

A wall of snow and wind rushed into the room.

“Now come along. There’s something I need to show you.”

And as Matilda stepped into the storm beside the most frightening man in Leadville, she had no idea that the mountain cabin waiting above Black Ridge held a secret connected to her mother’s past.

A secret Jedodiah had spent more than two decades trying to uncover.