Denver

by Sara Orwig

  “Good morning,” Dan said, offering his hand. “I’m Dan Castle.”

  “Mr. Castle. I’m Edward Ringwood. I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to look at your work.”

  “I don’t mind at all. Can I show you around?”

  “I’ve already looked around,” he said, turning to study the Victorian Gothic mantel. “Very nice touches. I like your mantelshelf,” he said, running his hand along dentils in the bed molding, the decorative pilasters and turned woodwork. He looked around the room, glancing up at the coved ceiling and the wide polished mahogany both above and at the base.

  “That’s nice wood. Very good job,” he observed.

  “It came from Santo Domingo. I order some of my wood from a company in South Carolina.”

  Edward Ringwood’s black eyes finally focused on Dan. “We share the same liking. I have a preference for Victorian. It’s eye-catching. Thank you for your time, Mr. Castle.”

  “Yes, sir. Anytime you want to come look, feel free to do so,” Dan said, shedding his coat.

  “You work early.”

  “I’m shorthanded. I get more done if I start early.”

  “There are plenty of men for hire in town.”

  “I’m particular when it comes to my houses,” Dan said. His pulse raced. He wanted to grasp Edward Ringwood’s arm and show him every inch of the house, the high ceilings and ample fireplaces, the Vermont slate used in building the fireplaces, but he resisted the impulse.

  “How many houses have you built, Mr. Castle?”

  “Two others here in Denver, and I’m presenting plans to Benjamin Corning. I’ve also worked on houses in California.”

  Ringwood nodded. “Good day, sir.” He left, striding out to his carriage, where a coachman sat quietly waiting. Dan watched him drive away, wishing he would come back and ask Dan to build him a house. Edward Ringwood had made a fortune in silver before he settled in Denver. He had opened a smelter, and he was just the type of man Dan hoped to acquire as a customer. Young, wealthy, married with two small children, Ringwood could afford a fancy mansion.

  Dan gathered up his tools and went to the hall, and his thoughts of Ringwood vanished as he concentrated on his task.

  Two hours later his men worked in two rooms while Dan nailed cove molding in place beneath the tread on a riser on the stairway. In spite of the pounding of hammers, the shattering of a loud blast was heard and all hammering stopped. Dan ran out on the porch, glancing up and down the street.

  A column of smoke rose above roofs near the center of town.

  “Fire!” Dan yelled.

  His men ran outside. Only one man had his horse, which was tethered at a rail. “Come on, Dan, I’ll give you a ride,” Hiram Veck said. Dan swung up behind him while Willie North waved them to go ahead. They could follow the rising cloud of smoke to the fire. The town’s two-thousand-pound bell began clanging; a fire brought all able-bodied people. Dan knew Denver had burned in the spring of 1863, and people were acutely conscious of the hazards of fire.

  As they rounded a corner, Dan’s eyes narrowed and he swore. It was the O’Malley boardinghouse. One corner was ripped away, and flames and smoke billowed out. Mary O’Malley was pumping water furiously, and a bucket brigade had already formed, winding from the pump around the corner of the house to the fire. Denver Hook and Ladder Company was only a few blocks away on Lawrence Street, so the hook-and-ladder crew was already at the boardinghouse when Dan arrived. Men pumped vigorously as they poured a stream of water on the fire. Dan jumped off the horse and ran to Mary. He pushed her away from the pump, taking the handle to pump faster. “I’ll do this.” As he talked, he shed his coat. “Put on my coat.”

  “I’ve got to help,” she said, starting toward the line. Dan grabbed her arm, throwing his coat around her shoulders.

  “Put on my coat,” he snapped, and she slid her arms into the sleeves. As he pumped, Mary called to one of the men to move the horses. In addition to the bucket brigade, men on the porch had wet gunnysacks to beat at the flames. Mary ran toward the porch, and Dan swore. “Jed, man this pump!” he called, running to catch up with Mary. He yanked the gunnysack from her hands as she beat at flames.

  “Get back where it’s safe,” he ordered.

  “Mr. Castle, it’s my house!”

  “Dammit, Irish, get back there or I’ll carry you and hold you, and two of us won’t be any help!”

  “Mary, where’s Pa?” Brian asked. Mary and Dan turned to face Brian. “I can’t find him.”

  Mary looked at the burning house. “Holy saints preserve us.”

  Dan stepped in front of her as her brother ran ahead. “Get off the porch, Mary. Let the men do this. I’ll go with Brian.”

  Brian and Dan raced inside the house, Dan winding his handkerchief over the lower part of his face and following Brian upstairs. The fire burned in the front parlor, a gaping hole torn in the wall, and Dan wondered how the hell this had happened, but then his mind was on the O’Malleys.

  Paddy O’Malley sat on the top step, bottles clutched in his arms. Blood streamed from a cut on his temple, and he smiled at them.

  “Brian, I must take care of my bottles.”

  “Pa, the house is on fire. Get out.” Brian and Dan each took Paddy’s arms and led him down the steps. He coughed violently, tears streaming from his eyes. Dan’s eyes burned and he felt as if he were suffocating as they tried to hurry Paddy O’Malley along.

  “Careful, boys, the bottles.”

  “Pa, come on.” Brian coughed, his voice a rasp.

  “Boys, we have to go. The blasting powder is in the front parlor,” Paddy warned.

  “Pa, it blew out the side of the house.”

  “Brian, only one bag blew a hole in the house.”

  They reached the foot of the stairs. Brian gave Dan a horror-struck look of shock. “Pa, there’s more?”

  “Yes, my boy. There were two bags,” he said carefully, his words slurred in spite of his efforts to pronounce them distinctly.

  “Let’s go!” Dan snapped, and they rushed Paddy out. “Get off the porch!” Dan shouted. “Blasting powder! Fire in the hole!” he yelled, knowing every miner would understand. He grabbed Mary around the waist, scooping her up while Brian pulled Paddy along. Men dropped buckets and ran.

  “The fire—” Mary protested, pulling back.

  Dan tightened his grip as he ran, while she clung to his neck. The blast shook the ground, and Dan dropped down over Mary, trying to protect her from flying boards. Something hit him across the shoulders.

  Silence came, and in spite of all the turmoil, the fire, and the explosion, he was aware of Mary’s soft body beneath his. He turned his head to look directly into her wide green eyes. “Are you all right?” he asked, noticing that her skin was beautiful and as smooth as porcelain.

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No.” There was one long heartbeat of time when neither moved. He rolled over and stood up, pulling her to her feet. Black smoke rolled and billowed skyward. Men were getting up all across the yard and street, but no one seemed seriously injured.

  “It blew out the damned fire,” Dan said, looking at what was left of the boardinghouse. Only two-thirds of it remained. The front corner of the structure was missing. Rubble was strewn across the yard. Men stood in shock as they stared at the house. A small flame flickered beneath the floor, and Dan yelled, “Get the pumper going! We can control it now.”

  Men worked swiftly, and in another quarter-hour, the last ember had died. Dan set down his bucket, glancing around to locate Mary and Brian. He thanked everyone who had helped out, while Paddy sat on the unburned portion of the porch, bottles clutched in his arms.

  Dan told his men to go back to work while he picked up debris and stacked it on the porch. He covered his mouth again and ran inside, opening windows to clear the smoke. By the time he came downstairs, Mary and Brian stood in the front hall and the smoke had cle
ared. A stranger stood talking to them about his room.

  “We’ll find our boarders other places to stay until we can get things fixed,” Mary said. “Lonnie and Jen McGruder said we can send two men to their house. You can take your things there now if you want.”

  “Thanks, Miss O’Malley. Is it safe to go upstairs?” Nolen Parker asked, his white beard covered with cinders.

  “Yes, unless your room was in the corner that burned or adjacent to it,” Dan answered, joining them. “Don’t get near that part.”

  “No. My room is at the back,” Parker said. “Miss O’Malley, your pa has got to do his inventing in the shed,” he said.

  “I know, Mr. Parker,” she said, and he ambled toward the house.

  “I can stay this afternoon,” Dan said. “Four of the men said they would help today. Jeb Long said he’d send a wagon with lumber, and we can start repairs.”

  “Thank you,” she said, sounding sincerely relieved. She ran her hand across her brow. “I don’t know where to begin.”

  “Once the smoke is out of the house, you can shut off the parts that didn’t burn and get some heat back.”

  “Fortunately, the front rooms are unoccupied at the moment. Only two of the men should have to vacate.”

  “I’ll help with repairs,” Brian said. “I work at the livery stable, and Henry said I could take the rest of today to help here.”

  “Good. See the tall black-haired fellow, Will North? He works for me and he’ll give you my tools to bring back here.”

  Brian left, and the neighbors who had volunteered to stay began picking up debris in the yard. Paddy sat on the stairs, singing softly to himself.

  “Put all the costs on a bill,” Mary told Dan. “I’ll have to pay you as I can.”

  “You don’t have to pay me at all,” he said firmly. “You have money.”

  “That is Silas Eustice’s money. If you want your money now, you can take it from his and I’ll repay him.”

  Dan nodded, knowing he wouldn’t take a cent. “What the hell was your pa doing with blasting powder in the house?” He wished he hadn’t asked, because her eyes seemed to cloud over with worry as she glanced at Paddy.

  “Pa always thinks he’s going to invent something the world will want. I don’t know what he had in mind this time. Two years ago he blew away the toolshed. He said he was trying to build a device to enable miners to blow holes beneath the ground efficiently so they wouldn’t have to dig. He might have gone back to that. He doesn’t let things go if they don’t work out. I don’t know what he was trying to do, and right now, I doubt if he does either.”

  “He doesn’t seem to be hurt badly. The second blast blew out the fire, and since no one was hurt, I suppose it was just as well.”

  “I appreciate your help,” she said stiffly, and he grinned.

  “You appreciate it, but you wish it weren’t me.”

  “It’s not you personally,” she said. “I don’t like to have to take men’s time and aid.”

  “Unbend a little, Irish,” he said softly, looking closely at her again. Her face was smudged, and his coat made her look more childlike than ever, as her hands were completely hidden by the long sleeves. He brushed a speck of dirt off her cheek.

  “Here’s your coat. Thank you.”

  “Keep my coat. It’s still cold in the house.” He walked over to Paddy. “Sir, let me have one of the bottles, please.” Gently he pried one of the bottles from Paddy’s hands. Paddy smiled and continued to sing softly while Dan walked back to Mary. He worked the cork free and led her into the dining room, closing the door behind him.

  “You need to get away from people, the fire, and the problems for a few minutes. The world will keep right on turning, Miss O’Malley. Have a sip of whatever this is. I’m sure it’ll warm your insides.”

  “I don’t—”

  “But this time you do. Take a drink,” Dan said, thinking he wanted one himself.

  “No, thank you.”

  He leaned closer to her, and in spite of the smell of cinders and soot, he could catch a whiff of rosewater. “Irish, I know what’s best. Drink this.” Big green eyes glared at him; she blinked, and reached for the bottle.

  “Take a big drink.”

  She tilted the bottle, letting the fiery liquid drain down her throat, coughing and sputtering as she handed the bottle back to him. “That’s horrible! How can Pa consume such vile liquid?”

  “Paddy doesn’t think it’s a vile liquid,” Dan said dryly. “We’ll try to get walls up as quickly as possible. If you shut off the burned rooms, can you continue with your dining room and boardinghouse?”

  “It looks as if I can, with the exception of the two boarders.” She noticed a cut on his cheek and reached up to touch him. “You’re bleeding a little.”

  He pulled out his handkerchief. “Where?”

  She took it from him and dabbed at a cut on his cheekbone while he studied her. Mary glanced at him, disturbed by his watchfulness. “It isn’t bad. Mr. Castle, I still want to pay you and the men.”

  “Look, accept help when it’s offered. Soon enough we’ll be gone, and you’ll have to hire men to do the rest. I’d guess you’ve helped others in emergencies.”

  She blinked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

  He patted her shoulder, thinking she looked as if she ought to be in the small schoolhouse nearby. He closed the windows, striding around the dining room. “And for a few minutes, sit down and relax and let us worry about the boardinghouse. I think it’s aired out sufficiently, so we can start getting some heat in here again.”

  The fiery liquid had burned her throat, but it warmed her. She watched Dan Castle move around the dining room and was relieved to have someone else to take charge, because it was a unique experience.

  “Thank you for your help.”

  He paused and grinned. “You’re welcome, Irish. I think your pa’s whiskey mellowed you.”

  She blinked at him, and suddenly he regretted his teasing. He crossed the room to take her chin in his hands. “I was teasing.”

  “I know. I do appreciate your help.” She sighed and stood up. “I better mop up the water.”

  He caught her arms. “You can mop anytime tonight. Sit down here and relax.” He sat her down and sat down with her. “You’ve had a shock. Here, have a little more whiskey.”

  “I’ll be as tipsy as Pa.”

  “Long as you don’t blow off more of the house, I can’t see that it would hurt.”

  She laughed, and he felt better. He liked to see her laugh, because she was the most solemn person he had ever known. “That’s good, Irish. You’re pretty when you laugh,” he said, touching her dimple.

  She blushed and looked down, and lashes feathered above her cheeks. She took another drink of the whiskey and coughed. “I don’t see how men can love this stuff.”

  “Like a woman, it becomes more important with time and familiarity.”

  She laughed again. “It would take a long time and a great deal of familiarity for me to love this!”

  “Now, you sit right here and let me go to work. Promise you won’t move for another ten minutes or so.”

  “I promise,” she said, smiling at him. He winked and patted her knee, then moved away to go outside and join the men working there.

  Mary waited as she had promised. She looked down at Dan’s coat that hung off her shoulders and thought about things he had said to her, and she smiled until she walked out into the hall and looked at the damage.

  While she mopped up water inside, closing off the damaged rooms and trying to clean the hall, she heard Dan calling out directions. Brian worked side by side with him, and with the men working, she saw that some repairs would come about swiftly. Within two hours they had a framework up along the corner of the parlor. She went outside at nightfall.

  “Mr. Castle, I have supper ready, if you and the men would like to eat now. You can wash up in back if you want.”

  “Thanks. We’ll b
e there in a few minutes.”

  As he ate at a long table across from Brian, Mary served the workmen as well as her regular customers. “To sit in here, you wouldn’t know anything had happened today,” Dan remarked, watching her move between tables.

  “It’s a blessing the wind wasn’t high so the fire didn’t spread.”

  “And somewhat of a blessing your father had two bags of blasting powder. If you ever want a job building houses, I could use a worker like you,” Dan told Brian.

  Brushing thick red curls out of the way, Brian raised his head, giving Dan an amused, scornful look. “You don’t hold grudges, do you?”

  “Nope. I see no reason to hold grudges where you’re concerned.”

  “Thanks about the job, but I’m learning to be a smithy. I want my own livery stable.”

  “You’re a good carpenter. I watched you today.”

  “Thanks,” he said, looking pleased. “I learned that from Michael.”

  By the time Mary served them slices of steaming apple pie, the remaining customers in the dining room had finished and gone.

  The men who had helped thanked her for their suppers, Brian went back to work, and finally Dan was the only one left in the dining room. As she cleared the table of dishes, he watched her.

  “Have you eaten?”

  “Not yet, but I will.”

  “Get your dinner and come join me while I eat my pie.”

  She nodded and carried a stack of dishes to the kitchen. In minutes she reappeared with a steaming bowl of stew. Dan stood and pulled out her chair, and she sat down facing him. “How’s your father?”

  “He’s fine, I’m sure. He’s gone now, probably down to the saloon. That’s where he is most of the time. It was good of you to take time from your work.”

  “Glad to,” he answered. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t use the money.”

  Her green eyes widened. “Of course there’s a reason. The money belongs to Silas and not to me.”

  “He’s given it to you. It’s a gift, already given. I can’t keep it because it wasn’t given to me. If you want to save every penny of it for Silas, you can do that, but you have to take it.”