Western Future (Copper Kings Book 3)

  WESTERN FUTURE

  Copper Kings - Book 3

  JANELLE DANIELS

  It finally happened.

  Charlotte’s bakery is open and thriving beyond anything she could have imagined.

  Her logical, business-driven tenant—one of the Copper Kings—thinks she should make changes to maximize her profit, but she isn’t ready—no matter how illogical. He confounds and fascinates her, and now he’s all she can think of.

  Max doesn’t need distractions.

  He’s brilliant at what he does, and he wants his job done as efficiently as possible before returning east.

  His heart has been bruised before, so it doesn’t matter if Charlotte is as sweet as her confections. He’s determined to steer clear of her—until trouble hits.

  Which of them is in danger and why?

  And can he keep Charlotte safe while also protecting his heart?

  To sign up for Janelle Daniels’ readers club and receive notice of new titles as they are available, go to www.janelledaniels.com

  To Kirsten Osbourne and Keira K. Barton.

  The cabin was an adventure!

  And Dan.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Titles by Janelle Daniels

  Chapter 1

  Charlotte Hayer removed an apple pie from the oven, breathing in the scent of the flaky crust and tart fruit. She squinted in the candlelight, trying to determine if the top had the golden color she preferred, and let out a satisfied sigh.

  It was nearing midnight, and she needed to start baking well before sunrise if she were going to make her quota for the day. She’d thought sales might be a problem, but she’d quickly found the tricky part was keeping things in stock.

  She should be exhausted just thinking of the few hours of sleep she’d get, but she wasn’t. This was her dream. The thing she’d wanted her entire life. And she would happily lose years of sleep to see its success.

  She straightened from crouching in front of the oven and placed the hot dessert on a rack to cool. Wiping excess flour on her apron, she surveyed the delicacies she’d sell the next day. Three types of cookies, three pies, a chocolate cake with thick icing, and tarts. She’d need to make more cookies in the morning and perhaps a coffee cake along with her normal bread baking.

  She tapped her lip. Muffins. Yes, she’d make at least two types. She hadn’t offered them before, but she knew her customers would enjoy the addition.

  Excited, she grabbed a bowl and started measuring the flour while humming.

  Her bakery, just off the main square in Promise Creek, Montana, was silent in the late hours. The town had settled down except for a few drunks who wandered out of the saloon, but she didn’t pay them any attention. Instead, she instinctively mixed, measured, and poured her batter as dreams filled her head.

  For so long, she’d thought only of opening her own bakery and becoming independent. It was almost surreal she’d accomplished it. And with the success she’d already achieved, she was sure she would remain in business for a long time to come. All she had to do was keep her shelves stocked.

  And not run out of inventory before noon each day.

  She chuckled, heady with success, thinking of her other dearest wish: to find someone she could love and who would love her in return. Before coming here, she’d never found anyone who interested her enough to make the leap. The men who’d tried to court her weren’t ones she could see a future with, and she felt like it would be better to wait, and perhaps never get married, than to settle for something she knew wouldn’t make her happy.

  For a while, she’d wondered if it had been a mistake to come to Promise Creek, but being here, in her own shop, flushed with the success of her first week, she knew it wasn’t. And if this dream came true, why couldn’t all the others?

  Marriage for love might have seemed impossible not so long ago, but with two of her friends now happily married to Copper Kings, the men who’d brought them all to town, it seemed like it could happen for her as well.

  But she wouldn’t push to marry. She wanted a relationship to happen naturally, to unfold in an unhurried fashion. There was no rush. And since she would only marry once, she figured it would be better to really know the man before making such a commitment.

  Perhaps in a few months, when things calmed down in her shop, she’d set her eye on the men in town. Until then, it was eyes down and dough up to her elbows. And there was a lot of dough. She grinned.

  She’d have to think of how to bake these extras that she couldn’t manage in the early mornings once her tenant arrived in a few days. Maximus Blackgate, she imagined, wouldn’t take too kindly to her baking at all hours of the night in the shop below him. She’d only spent a few nights in the small apartment upstairs, but she knew from experience that most sounds carried up through the ceiling.

  She only stayed upstairs on nights like this when she was up late cooking. It wasn’t practical to ride back to the house she shared with the other women when she would have to turn right back around a few hours later.

  Truly, she should move into the shop permanently, but she couldn’t bear to move away from the women she’d arrived with. In such a short time, they’d already become like sisters to her. They would all move away eventually as they started their lives and married, but Charlotte had no intention of severing that tie until absolutely necessary.

  She placed the muffins in the oven, dusting off her hands once more as she took stock of the kitchen. Her body sagged, and she looked out, realizing how late it had gotten. Everything else would have to wait until morning—except cleanup.

  Cleanup had to happen immediately if she wanted a kitchen free of bugs and rodents. And she was determined she always would. Some of the things she’d seen in kitchens in crowded cities made her skin crawl. It was a point of pride that what she served was made in the cleanest environment possible.

  She grabbed a rag, wet it in a bucket and wiped down the counter. She carried her dirty bowls to the large basin, grateful the property came with an indoor water pump.

  She hummed softly, filling the quiet as the sweet scent of muffins wafted in the air.

  It was so peaceful here. She hoped it would always remain that way.

  But even as she thought that, the hair on the back of her neck rose. Her back stiffened, and she froze, unable to force herself to turn and look toward the window.

  There’s no one there. There’s no one there, she told herself. She sucked in a breath, steeling herself. She knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn’t push the feeling away. Take a deep breath. Exhale.

  Swiveling slowly, she faced the window, silent, watching, waiting for movement in the darkness beyond. With the candlelight reflecting off the windows, she could only see a few feet beyond the boardwalk. But she knew others could see her clearly from across the street.

  As the seconds ticked by, she felt silly for her overactive imagination. “Really mature, Charlotte. There’s nothing there. It’s just your—”

  A scream left her lips as a cat vaulted onto her windowsill. Her hand went to her throat as if it would help stifle the sound, but she couldn’t stop it.

  Her heart knocked against her ribs as her chest heaved in panic. “It’s just a cat.” Shaking her head with a laugh, she turned back toward the dishes, chagrined at her fright while her heartbeat slowed. “Fearsome crea
ture, that one.” She clucked her tongue.

  If she were ever going to live alone, she needed to stop being so jumpy. Perhaps she would ask for shooting lessons and invest in her own rifle. That might help her to feel a little safer.

  Exhausted from hard work and a scare that took a year off her life, she took out the muffins and finished her cleaning. She blew out all the candles except one, taking it with her as her heavy feet trudged up the steps.

  Shadows danced along the walls, but she pointedly ignored them. They were just shadows. Besides, she was too exhausted at this point to get worked up again.

  She thought about falling into bed fully dressed but decided against it. She wouldn’t be comfortable at all.

  She moved past the small sitting room, the sofa plusher than was fashionable, but she didn’t mind. The few times she’d sat in it, it had been like sinking into heaven. Besides, she appreciated comfort over looks or fashion. Perhaps that was another reason she was still unmarried, she thought with humor.

  Her hair was a mass of riotous blond curls that, even with the most rigid beauty regimen, never were truly tamed. She’d finally given up and allowed them free rein. It was so much easier. She couldn’t even feel bad about it.

  Besides, even though her hair had been a hardship when she was younger—after being told again and again her unruly hair would scare off any potential suitors—she loved it now. It was unique, like herself. And anyone who was attracted to her, wild curls and all, would definitely be someone she’d be interested in. He’d also likely be unconventional, and that suited her just fine.

  She rolled her eyes at the last thought. She was more tired than she’d thought. Quickly, she changed into her nightgown, hopped into bed, and blew out the candle. Early morning would come all too soon.

  * * *

  Max Blackgate’s mood was as dark as his name. After spending the entire day and most of the night walking the mine and learning its basic operation and structure, he was bone-tired and surly. The only reason he hadn’t crashed in the mining office on-site was because he wanted a soft bed after days of traveling.

  Chase Eversley, one of his business partners, had met him at the mine and handed off a key to his new apartment above a bakery. He was grateful to have his own space, even if the building was shared with a business. He didn’t plan on being there during the day though, so the arrangement was sound.

  Besides, if he had to sleep in the hotel, surrounded by fawning, hapless employees, he might burn his own eyes out.

  He’d skipped dinner, unable to take a break from his inspection, and he was feeling the loss now. He didn’t have any food with him, and there was no way to procure anything this late at night—or this early in the morning. Whichever it might be. He wasn’t certain.

  He walked from the stables after dropping off his horse. He’d given the man extra coin, which seemed to brighten his mood about being roused from bed. He’d have to remember this wasn’t the city—the people here weren’t up at all hours.

  He might actually have to keep normal hours. He snorted. As if that would ever happen.

  He pulled out his pocket watch, groaning when he saw the time. He’d have to be on his way back to the mine in five hours if he planned on making his meetings.

  His stomach growled and he winced.

  With any luck, the bakery would be open before he left so he could take something with him. He just wished there was something waiting for him in the apartment already.

  Sighing, he pulled the key from his waistcoat and fitted it into the front door of the bakery. The lock turned easily, and the door swung open on well-oiled hinges. He nodded in approval at the well-kept building. He appreciated things that ran at optimum levels. In fact, it was the reason why he’d dedicated most of his life to the work he did.

  He might not be flashy like some of the other Copper Kings, a name he found amusing after Chase had told him of it, but he had strengths his partners didn’t. He could look at a business or operation and immediately know how to strengthen it. He could cut the fat, rearrange management structures, and tighten things until there was zero waste of any kind. He’d done it time and again, building on the fortune his father had amassed.

  He may not be able to cater to their associates as well as Chase or handle the day-to-day operation like Lucas or the other many things his partners did, but this is where he shined. And if he were ever going to make an operation thrive, it was going to be the copper mine. Everything he’d done up to this moment had led him to this. This was his greatest challenge, and it would also bring him the biggest reward.

  He needed to stay focused, sharp, and not get distracted by anything during his time here.

  But as he stepped into the bakery, he let out a soft moan. The place smelled like his childhood. Buttery pastries, cinnamon and sugar, and heaven. It was like someone had just baked a fresh batch of his favorite cookies, but this late in the night, he knew that wasn’t possible.

  Perhaps there were leftovers?

  He closed the door and stepped farther in the room, hoping to find some crumbs in the kitchen. He’d give the owner one hundred dollars if he could just lick a cookie.

  He shook his head at his desperation but didn’t slow his step.

  He glanced over the pristine shelves and display cases, heartily approving of the cleanliness. He’d seen far too many establishments that were lax on cleaning, and it was completely unacceptable. Whoever owned this shop ran a tight ship—one of his highest compliments.

  He walked back into the kitchen and couldn’t stop himself from admiring the cleanliness here either. It was so spotless, he would feel confident licking batter off the floor. And when he glanced over the racks, a whimper of gratitude filled him. Cookies, cakes, pies, and muffins filled the shelves.

  His mouth watered.

  To others, he might seem hard, disciplined, and in control. But most didn’t know he favored sweets of every kind. His parents had thought he’d outgrow it, but after so many years, he was sure he never would.

  He stepped over to the assortment of baked goods, deciding he would have a muffin and a couple cookies. He’d reached out for the first when he heard a squeak from the stairs and spun to meet the danger.

  The woman in front of him, her body encased in a swirl of white with shocking blond curls streaming down from all sides, held a wooden spoon as if she would bludgeon him with it.

  “Who are you?” she asked, waving the cooking utensil threateningly.

  He held up his hands, stifling a laugh that rose up his throat. He wasn’t sure what she planned on doing with the spoon other than smacking his hands, but he didn’t want to frighten her further. “I’m Maximus Blackgate. I’ve rented the apartment upstairs.” He glanced at the way she’d come down, finally realizing she must have been sleeping up there. “And you must be the bakery owner.”

  The thought intrigued him. He hadn’t asked who owned it, assuming it was a man. Perhaps she owned it with her husband?

  He frowned. If that was the case, where was he? And why would he let his wife come down to face a robber alone?

  “Mr. Blackgate?” She lowered her weapon slowly. “The Copper King.”

  It wasn’t a question, more of a realization, but he nodded anyway. “One and the same.”

  “Oh.” She shuffled her feet, pushing back her tumble of hair. “I wasn’t expecting you for a few more days.”

  “I arrived early,” he said, although that should be obvious. “I’ve been at the mine all day.”

  Realization lit her eyes. “And Mr. Eversley gave you the key,” she said. Then she flushed and glanced up the stairs, no doubt thinking of the bed she’d been sleeping in.

  His bed.

  His blood hummed with the thought of her there, but he quickly shut down the inappropriate chain of thoughts. This woman was most likely married, and even if she weren’t, she was his landlady. Still, it was hard to dismiss such vivid images altogether. He cleared his throat. “He did. I apologize for the
late hour. I thought no one would be here.”

  “I stayed late to get a head start on baking.”

  He raised a brow. “What time do you start in the morning?”

  “In a few hours.”

  “Why not do it all then?”

  She cocked her head, and for a moment, he didn’t think she’d answer. And why would she? She had no obligation to explain herself to him. He was about to apologize for his nosey question when she smiled and shrugged. “I can’t get it all done in the morning. I’ve been running out of inventory by noon. I was hoping to have more to offer tomorrow. It’s a bit less sleep, but I’ll take success over being well rested.”

  “You’ll earn more with extra inventory, but being sleep deprived can only last so long.” And that was the truth. Working late and waking up early was not a stable business model. “Have you thought of hiring on?”

  She raised her chin, her pride showing. “I opened last week. I’m still getting a feel for how things will progress. Right now, I can’t afford to hire anyone.”

  He shrugged. “You could get a loan. Artificially grow so you have more to offer, and you’ll grow faster. It’s a logical step in this case.”

  She shook her head, but there was a small smile on her face. “Is that how you manage your life? Always making the logical choice?” She looked at him with thinly veiled pity that he knew was genuine.

  He stifled the feelings that rose within him, not allowing old hurts to surface. “It might not be what everyone chooses to do, but it’s never failed me.” Well, it had failed him once. But, even then, he wasn’t certain anything would’ve changed the outcome of that situation. “I’m sorry I’ve disturbed your sleep. If it’s more convenient, I can get a room at the hotel until the official lease date.”

  “Oh no. That isn’t necessary,” she quickly said. She ran a hand through her hair like she was trying to come up with a solution. “I guess there’s no way to hide it. I’m sleeping in the bed upstairs. Unfortunately, there’s only one.”