Every Perfect Gift by Dorothy Love

beautiful as Blue Smoke.”
    “I don’t think so, miss. They say something terrible happened there when he was a boy, and he hasn’t been back there since. If the story is true, I wouldn’t blame him for never wanting to set foot in Georgia again.”
    “What happened? Did someone—”
    The door opened, and Mr. Heyward came in wearing fresh clothes, his shoes shined, his hair neatly combed. He nodded to his secretary. “I hope there’s still some tea.”
    “Of course.” O’Brien poured a cup for his boss. “Will you be needing anything else, sir?”
    “Not at the moment. Supply train brought the mail up.” Ethantook up the sugar tongs and dropped a couple of cubes into his cup. “You might get it sorted for me. And update the guest list for the ball. Li Chung will want to order his supplies soon, and I want to be sure Mr. Pruitt has enough of everything.”
    The secretary left, closing the door behind him. Mr. Heyward stirred his tea and took a long sip. “Now, Miss Caldwell, what brings you to Blue Smoke?”
    “Caleb Stanhope needs his job back.” Sophie set down her cup and folded her hands in her lap. “He told me he’s supporting his mother and two younger brothers.”
    Mr. Heyward nodded. “Mary Bell. I understand she ran the telegraph office before she married. The boy told me her husband died shortly thereafter.” He took a sip of tea. “Killed in a railway accident in Chicago. Tragic for all of them.”
    “Then how can you deprive him of his livelihood when the welfare of others is at stake?”
    He sat forward in his chair. “Believe me, Miss Caldwell, I hated to let him go. But he shouldn’t have discussed Blue Smoke with you.”
    “That isn’t his fault. He didn’t know I’d write about it, and now I’m sorry I did. Not because the situation here isn’t utterly abominable, but because—”
    “Pardon me. What do you know, really, about the ‘situation,’ as you put it?”
    “I stumbled across the workers’ camp just now. It’s unfit for human habitation, in my opinion, and that open sewer is an invitation for serious illness. No wonder your men are prone to fighting. I’d be angry myself, having to live day after day in such deplorable conditions.”
    He opened his desk drawer, took out a couple of photographs, and slid them across the desk. “This is what the place looked like when I got here.”
    She studied the blurred images of haggard-looking men posing before a row of sagging canvas tents, their boots mired in a sea of mud. The pictures reminded her of Mr. Mathew Brady’s heart-rending photographs of the war. Misery seemed etched onto every soldier’s face.
    “When Horace asked me to come on board to supervise this project, I said I wouldn’t do it until he hired a decent cook and got those men out of tents and into permanent quarters.” Mr. Heyward studied her, his deep-blue eyes serious behind his spectacles. “I realize the cabins aren’t much to look at, but they’re much more substantial than those tents. At least the men are kept warm and dry. And they have plenty to eat.” He smiled. “Not that they don’t complain daily about Li Chung’s menu choices.”
    Sophie’s heart softened as he spoke. Had she misjudged him? Perhaps Ethan Heyward was not as hard a man as he seemed. Still . . . “What about Caleb? Will you reconsider?”
    “I’m afraid I cannot. Mr. Blakely is quite adamant that the men honor the promises they made when they were hired. One of those promises was not to say anything that could damage the reputation of Blue Smoke.”
    “I see.” She rose. “Your stationery order is ready. Perhaps Mr. O’Brien can pick it up tomorrow.”
    “I’ll ask him to call at your office.” He walked her to the door. “Despite what you might think, I am truly sorry about Caleb. I understand what it’s like to be young and without a father for guidance.”
    “But not sorry enough to take him back.”
    “Horace Blakely has the final say around