Kevin thought about that face and smile as he gazed at a coin in his hand and then a picture on a wall in the Shooting Star, a noisy saloon on the east end of Bank Street. He stared at the objects so intently that he didn't see a man staring intently at him from a barstool three feet away.
"From the looks of your mug, you're thinking about a sizeable fortune or a beautiful woman. My money says you're thinking about both," the man said with an Irish accent.
Kevin smiled, took a sip of his whiskey, and turned to his right.
"Are you a mind reader?" Kevin asked.
"No. I'm more of a trained observer of the human race."
The short, well-built man reached over and extended a hand.
"I'm Andy O'Connell. I'm a reporter for the Standard.
Kevin shook the hand.
"Kevin Johnson."
Andy downed a shot of something that looked unfiltered and turned to Kevin.
"Am I right, Mr. Johnson?"
"Are you right about what?"
"Are you thinking about both a fortune and a woman?"
"I guess I am," Kevin said with a laugh. "You're pretty good."
"I study people for a living, my friend. I can tell just by looking at a man's eyes whether he is lying about embezzling funds or telling the truth about his role in an accident."
"Is that so?"
"That's so."
"So what gave me away?"
"It was the eagle. No man looks at a coin like that unless he's thinking of more just like it."
"What about the woman? There's no woman in here."
"Oh, yes there is."
Andy pointed to the second object that had captured Kevin's attention, a framed photograph of a beautiful woman that hung on the wall behind the bar. The woman smiled playfully in the picture, as if she were flirting with an admirer or perhaps teasing a curious time traveler who had strolled past her house.
Kevin smiled and shook his head.
"I also gathered from the sadness in your eyes that these treasures are not within easy reach," Andy said. "Are they?"
Kevin laughed.
"I don't know if I should answer that. You're a reporter."
"I'm a reporter out there. In here, I'm just a regular Joe in search of a laugh or a song or maybe someone to punch."
Kevin chuckled. He liked his new acquaintance but wasn't quite sure what to make of him. Like many miners in Wallace, Andy O'Connell spoke in the colorful brogue of the Emerald Isle. He was at best a generation removed from Ellis Island, but he was no downtrodden immigrant yearning to breathe free. Polished and immaculately dressed, he looked more like a lawyer than a laborer. He was probably someone to know.
"OK. If you must know, both of the 'treasures' are close. I have one in a safe place, and I'm still looking for the other."
"Do you mind if I ask which is which?"
Kevin laughed. He could see that Andy had not checked his investigative mind at the door.
"I'm still looking for the woman."
"I figured as much. So tell me, Kevin, what brings you to Wallace? I know you're new here because I know nearly every soul in this bustling burg, and I haven't seen you before today."
"You're right. I am new. I've been here only three days. I came here to find work."
"What do you want to do?"
"I want to teach. I want to teach in a public school and heard there was a need for educators in the Bitterroots," Kevin said. "I graduated eight weeks ago from the university in Seattle. When I couldn't find a job in Washington, I packed a suitcase and hopped on a train."
"Schools don't hire until the spring and summer. Surely, you know that. Why would you come to a place like this in the middle of winter?"
"I wanted to get a jump on the competition and meet the administrators before they sent out their calls. I also wanted to see the schools during the school year and assess the communities. I don't know a whole lot about this area."
"There's not much to know," Andy said with a cynical laugh. "The mountains around us contain silver, Kevin, lots of it. Men, dirty men, pull that silver from the ground. They spend their meager pay in saloons and whorehouses, marry if they can, and die when they must. Those who make the money are the merchants and the traders. They own the houses on the hill and the properties on the river. The sooner you understand that, the sooner you'll fit in."
"Wallace sounds like a lot of other towns."
Andy smiled.
"I suppose it is. There's enough here to keep a poor man happy and a rich man rich. You could do worse than Wallace. It depends on what you're looking for."
"I'm looking for a woman, remember?"
"Ah, yes. Does your woman have a name?"
"She does, but I think I'll keep that to myself for now."
Andy brought a hand to his chin and looked at Kevin closely.
"How long are you planning to stay in town?"
"I'll be here another week, maybe longer. I haven't decided."
"Do you have a place to stay?"
"I've got a room at the Panhandle Hotel. I'm paying day-to-day."
"You're probably paying too much too. Let me see if I can't find you something better."
"I don't know what you mean."
"There's a rich widow on King Street who rents rooms to young men who capture her fancy. She's a bit odd at times, but she's fair and generous. She'd love a lad like you."
Kevin chuckled.
"Let me guess. You've already captured her fancy."
Andy beamed.
"I've had the big room for a year now. Maude's the best landlord in town."
Kevin pondered his living situation as he finished his drink. He didn't want to spend another night at the Panhandle and put up with its hallway noise and bedbug bites. Nor did he want to impose on the Johnsons, who had offered him a room on Monday when they learned he'd be staying in Wallace through the twenty-third. He took a final gulp and set his glass aside.
"I may just have to investigate. Where do I find this Maude?"
"Right now she's sitting at a table in the Placer Room, probably nursing a glass of Madeira and badgering the management to upgrade its stock."
Kevin cocked his head and looked at Andy with curious eyes.
"How do you know that?"
"I know it because that's how she spends every Wednesday night. I'm joining her for dinner in fifteen minutes, and you're coming with me."
CHAPTER 12: MAUDE
Maude Duvalier, 35, sat at her usual table at the usual time and sipped a glass of Madeira. She had done so every Wednesday evening since her bastard of a husband had died of a stroke in the company of his 19-year-old secretary on the evening of Wednesday, January 22, 1908.
She viewed her midweek ritual less as an obsession than as a way of proving that English poet George Herbert was onto something when he'd said that living well was the best revenge. She had lived well on Marcus Duvalier's assets. The wine on Wednesdays was merely for show.
Maude looked around the room and saw faces that she knew as well as her own. The boy mayor was here, as were three merchants, a mine owner, two brokers, and a banker who reminded Maude of her bastard husband's brother. Most had brought their wives or girlfriends, but a few came with other men to discuss the matters that important men discussed.
Andy was late, of course, but Maude didn't hold it against him. Her friend and sole boarder for the past six months had a life that went beyond amusing a woman ten years his senior. He would move on soon enough and she was determined to enjoy him for as long as she could.
When she finally saw him enter the banquet room about five after six, she lifted her head and motioned for him to join her. When she saw another young man follow him into the room, she sat up straight in her chair and ran a hand through her thick red hair.
"Sorry I'm late, Maude," Andy said as he approached her table. "I had to finish the city council article and then wash it down with two of Charlie's specials."
"That's quite all right. Who's
your friend?"
"This is Kevin Johnson. He's a college man from Seattle who wants to teach in the area."
"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Johnson."
"Kevin, this is Maude Duvalier, the richest woman in town."
Kevin chuckled as he shook Maude's hand.
"I'm sure he exaggerates. He's been a laugh a minute since I met him."
"Andrew is a comedian," Maude said, "but in this case he doesn't exaggerate. I am the richest woman in town. Please take a seat, gentlemen."
Maude summoned a waiter to the table to fill two more glasses of wine and then turned her attention to her newest acquaintance. She liked what she saw. Handsome, tidy, and polite, Kevin Johnson already had a leg up on ninety-five percent of the men she knew.
"So you're looking for work?"
"I am," Kevin said.
"Then you've come to the right place. There are ample opportunities to educate our urchins, though I'm sure Andrew has told you that the schools here don't hire until the spring."
"He has. I'm here mostly to take a look around. I may or may not be back in June."
"Have you seen anything you like?"
"I have. I like the scenery. I like the people. For a small town, Wallace has everything I need," Kevin said. "I do plan to visit other communities, but I'm in no hurry. I like it here."
"Kevin intends to stay in town another week," Andy said. "He's looking for accommodations that are a step up from the Panhandle. I told him you might be able to help."
Maude smiled at Andy and then Kevin.
"Did Andrew tell you that I prefer to rent rooms to handsome young men?"
Kevin laughed.
"He did."
"Please don't take that the wrong way, Mr. Johnson. I prefer to rent to men, particularly educated men, because they pay their bills and tend to be more interesting. I have yet to go wrong in two years, though few have measured up to Andrew."
"Do you rent by the week?"
"Indeed, I do. For three dollars you can have a room and your run of the house. I live on the north end of King Street."
"Then I think we have a deal. I'm getting tired of bedbugs," Kevin said. "How many boarders do you have?"
"I have just Andrew at the moment – and you, if you join us – but I'm looking for more. I would very much like to find a new cleaning girl, particularly one who can cook."
"What happened to the old one?"
"Esther left me. She put love before duty."
"I don't follow."
"She ran off with the milkman."
Kevin laughed.
"In any case, should you meet someone who can clean and cook, then please send her to me. I'd happily waive your February rent as a finder's fee."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Maude requested a full bottle of wine when the waiter returned, along with three orders of lamb and potatoes. She liked taking charge in a man's world, particularly when she could do so with her late husband's money. Marcus would surely appreciate the irony.
When Kevin asked how Maude had become the "richest woman in town," she told him a story she had told often. She recalled how Marcus Duvalier, silver tycoon, had wooed her away from a Denver stage in 1896 with silk, emeralds, and a promise of a house that would be the envy of the up-and-coming mining community of Wallace, Idaho.
She added that her husband's sales pitch hadn't included a promise to remain faithful or to even provide her with children. Maude Parker, daughter of a Colorado wheat farmer and one-time vaudeville performer, had been a mere ornament to a man who'd had many.
As Maude replayed the phonograph record that was her life, she noticed that Kevin was a good listener. He smiled and nodded at the right times and asked questions when appropriate.
She also noticed that he said little about himself. She couldn't remember a man who had spoken less about his past than the one who wanted to teach the children of miners and merchants.
Kevin gave Maude his undivided attention for the better part of an hour, even as Andrew drifted to other places. As the evening wore on, however, he began to shift his sights to a nearby table, where a well-known businessman entertained an attractive young woman.
Maude decided to reel in his wandering eyes at seven thirty, when Andy headed off to the men's room and Kevin again glanced at the other table.
"I see I have competition," she said.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude," Kevin said. "It's just that the woman sitting at the other table looks very familiar. Do you know who she is?"
Maude smiled.
"I know everyone in this town, Mr. Johnson."
"I figured you did."
"The woman is Sarah Thompson, a teacher at the high school. She came here last summer from Indiana and has been residing with George and Bertha Marshall. They are an elderly couple who live in that magnificent house on Seventh and Garnet."
"I see. Who's the gentleman?"
"The man is Preston Pierce, the owner of the Intermountain Bank. He's a very important and powerful figure in this town, but I wouldn't call him a gentleman."
"Why is that?"
"I'll tell you why. Mr. Pierce is a lot like my deceased husband. He is greedy, thoughtless, and cruel. He is a man who treats women as property and not people. My guess is that Miss Thompson has not yet been treated to his charms."
Kevin nodded. He put a hand to his chin and lowered his eyes.
"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" Maude asked.
Kevin chuckled.
"It seems you and Andy attended the same school of thought. He can read my mind too."
"I can read men, Kevin. That's one reason Andrew and I get along. I know when he desires conversation and when he does not. I've found it to be a useful skill."
"I believe it. You certainly have me figured out. I'm sorry for drifting off."
"There's no need to apologize. You admire beautiful women, and Sarah Thompson is as beautiful as they come. She reminds me of someone I used to know."
"That sounds like an endorsement."
"It's more like an idle reflection," Maude said with a sad smile. "I hope you enjoy your time in Wallace, Mr. Johnson, but I advise you to stay away from the teacher."
"Why do you say that?"
"I say that because Preston Pierce is a nasty man, and nasty men do nasty things when someone gets between them and something they want."
CHAPTER 13: KEVIN
Friday, February 18, 1910
Five days into his alleged trip to visit schools in northern Idaho, Kevin finally visited a school in northern Idaho. He walked a few blocks from Maude Duvalier's house to Shoshone County High, proceeded to the school office, and asked to see Principal Edward Morrison.
Kevin had no intention of applying for a job or even inquiring about a job. A time traveler planning to return to his time in five days didn't make or even seek extended commitments. But if he wanted to catch another glimpse of a beautiful woman who worked at a school, a woman who had haunted his mind for days, he went to that school with an open mind.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Johnson," a large man said as he stepped into the office and extended a hand. "I'm Ed Morrison. I'm told you're interested in teaching in the county."
"I am," Kevin said. "I know you don't have any current vacancies. I'm just here to see the local schools and decide whether I want to return in the spring."
The principal looked at his watch and then at Kevin.
"We have about an hour before school ends today. If you'd like a quick tour of the building, I'd be happy to give you one."
"I'd love it. Lead the way."
Kevin followed Morrison down a long hallway to a large chamber that he immediately recognized as a gymnasium. With wooden rafters, balcony seats, and a parquet floor, the facility looked more like a mini Boston Garden than a high school gym.
Kevin peeked inside the door and saw several boys work a high bar, a vault, and a balance beam. They weren't as graceful as the girls he remembered at Unionville
High, but they appeared no less skilled. He wondered how far other sports, like football, baseball, and basketball had developed in small American towns by 1910.
"As you can see, our physical education program includes gymnastics," Morrison said. "Most of our students are involved in school sports or intramurals. We place a premium on physical fitness here in Wallace. Our girls basketball team, in fact, is quite good."
"That's impressive," Kevin said.
"What is your academic specialty, Mr. Johnson? Perhaps I can take you to the appropriate section of the school."
"I majored in astronomy and earth sciences at the university in Seattle, but I would feel comfortable teaching any of the physical sciences. Do you expect to have any vacancies in those areas next year?"
"I don't expect a vacancy of any kind," Morrison said. "None of our current instructors are planning to retire or to marry, to my knowledge. The teachers here are very committed to the mission of our school. The turnover rate is relatively low."
Kevin felt better when he heard the words. He knew now that he wasn't doing anything more than taking up one principal's last hour on an otherwise uneventful Friday afternoon in February.
"Would you like to see the science classes?"
"I would. Thank you."
Kevin followed the principal to three science rooms, where students engaged in a variety of lab experiments, and also to the shop classes, where future wood- and metal-workers created everything from candleholders to letter openers. Though some things had changed in a century of public education, others – many others – had not.
Morrison then guided his guest past the math and music rooms to the English and literature section. When they reached the last of three rooms in this area, they found the door open. The principal lowered his voice as they stepped into the doorway.
"This is an upper-level English class, taught by Miss Sarah Thompson," Morrison said, barely above a whisper. "Miss Thompson came to us from Indiana. She was our only new hire last year. As I said, vacancies at this school are few and far between."
Kevin heard Morrison speak but otherwise ignored him. The second he laid eyes on the new instructor with the Jane Seymour face and Gibson-girl hair, he mentally checked out of the school tour. He saw the woman he had wanted to see and, just as importantly, she had seen him.
The Fire (Northwest Passage Book 4) Page 6
