Carla Kelly Read Free Page A

the world, the English run it, and the Finns like to roll naked in the snow when no one's watching.”
    Della laughed, thinking about the Finns. “Just assure me that the miners are concerned about their children's education.”
    He looked at her seriously, all joking gone. “You'll find a hard-eyed bunch of realists in that canyon. They're immigrants and staking everything on their children's success in this new land. They are in deadly earnest.”
    She thought about that as she went upstairs again to dress, looking in the mirror to see herself as she was, all wishing aside: young, olive-skinned, and Greek of face with a head of unruly black curls and a nose charitably called aquiline. I am young, but please let them take me seriously , she thought. I can do this.
    “Here's another good thing to know,” Uncle Jesse told her, as the train pulled away from the depot with a hiss and a jolt. “Winter Quarters mines are called family mines.”
    “Why?”
    “They're considered so safe—not gassy with methane, like some mines—that men with families have gravitated there. The camp doesn't look like much, so don't be imagining a thing of beauty and a joy forever. I hear it's a cheerful canyon.”
    She nodded and looked out the window when he picked up his newspaper.
    He put the paper down and looked at her with the familiar twinkle in his eyes. “Della, did you sing in your ward choir?”
    “I did. Contralto.”
    “Are you pretty good?”
    “Well, I don't wait for a summons from the Tabernacle Choir, but I think so. Should I join the ward choir in Winter Quarters?”
    “Oh, yes.”
    “Most choirs need altos,” she said. “Have you been to church there? Does the choir need some help?”
    He laughed. “You'll find out! I'm not even sure they have a piano. For sure no organ.”
    “Heavens. That tells me a lot.”
    Well, why not , she told herself as Provo turned into Springville. I've been in plenty of so-so choirs. One more won't hurt . She glanced east to the mountains, seeking out the canyon where the Denver & Rio Grande Western Railway would take her. By tonight she would be in her own place.
    She felt a pang, saying good-bye to Uncle Jesse at the depot. Through the years, she had visited the Knights with her Anders relatives, but this had been her first trip by herself to see them. She had been too shy before to see their kindness.
    He kissed the top of her head. “Della, you're a fine specimen. I never noticed before,” he said, so maybe she hadn't been alone in her shyness. He motioned for the porter to take her luggage. “Now I'm off to my own mines at Tintic. Come see us at Thanksgiving.”
    “I just might,” she said, after the conductor assisted her down the steps, solicitous as only a man can be who is helping someone down from a private car. I could like this , she thought.
    Uncle Jesse handed her a folded piece of paper through his open window. “I found this somewhere. It'll give you a chuckle.”
    She took it and blew him a kiss, sorry to see him go.
    “Miss?”
    Della turned around to see the stationmaster. “Yes, sir?”
    “We are holding the D&RGW for you on that track over there,” he said, gesturing toward the much longer train. “Mr. Knight had telegraphed us to do that.”
    She stared at him. “Mercy! I'll hurry.” She grabbed her carpetbag, picked up her skirts, and ran.
    Della sank into the nearest seat. She hadn't the nerve to look around the car, fully aware that every man on board— and there seemed to be no one but men—had ample opportunity to gaze at her ankles as she dashed along the platform. The only satisfaction she could own was the knowledge that at least she wore matching stockings and her petticoat was clean. Aunt Caroline did have her uses.
    Maybe she could just stare out the window until the train reached Colton, the stop where she would change again for the ride to Scofield. She looked at the man seated across the aisle from her, regarding her with a smile.
    He