Mercury's Rise (Silver Rush 04)

by Ann Parker

  Evan glanced left and right, as if seeking an escape. “Well, this is most irregular.” He finally looked at her, a bit piteously, and said, “It can be arranged. Where should I send the bill?”

  “Send it to me at the Silver Queen Saloon.” She swept gun and cartridges into the sizable purse. “Will you still be attending the Saturday poker games, Mr. Evan?”

  “Oh, sure. Nothing has changed.” His tone indicated that he didn’t think that was the case at all, but before she could challenge him further, he hurried on. “Mr. Stannert told me that the Saturday games would continue. I was glad to hear that, Mrs. Stannert. I look forward to them, you know. I am a fellow of habit. He explained that he’d be running a game on Fridays, extending special invitation to out-of-towners. I told him I thought it was an excellent idea.”

  “You did, did you.” She could hardly speak around her mounting anger.

  “Well, sure. With the trains bringing folks up on Fridays, makes sense to get ’em when their pockets are full.” He chuckled. “Gives them the weekend to repent of their sins, so to speak. But oh yes, you can count on me for Saturday evenings, Mrs. Stannert.”

  She smiled through gritted teeth. “So pleased I can count on you, Mr. Evan. Thank you for providing me with replacement firepower.”

  She exited the store and stood in the blinding late July sunlight, wavering a bit.

  Mark was against a divorce. He had re-established a line of credit at Evan’s. He was starting an “exclusive” game for out-of-towners on Fridays. He planned to rebuild the house. Her house.

  Her feet began walking of their own accord. If her skirts were looser, she’d have broken into a run. As it was, she remembered nothing of the trip from Evan’s store on Chestnut to the lot that held the charred remains of her home on Fourth Street.

  Blessedly, there was no one there. Inez stepped up on the creaking fire-blackened wood of the front porch, and waded into the ashes and charred, melted, broken remains of her life. At the spot where she estimated baby William’s room had been, she sank to her knees, oblivious of the soiling to her skirts. She pulled up half-consumed pieces of wood and plaster, and found a shard of decorated wood from William’s cradle, varnish blistered, wood discolored, the ornate bit of design that lined the headboard barely visible. Tears fell onto the piece of molding, where they vanished, soaking into the porous, heat-seared wood.

  “Inez.” Susan Carothers’ voice sounded soft and urgent behind her. A gloved hand settled on her shoulder, and Inez heard the soft crackle of burnt debris as Susan circled around to kneel before her. “Mr. Evan came to my studio and said I should find you. He was concerned. We guessed you might be here. Tell me what you need. I’ll do whatever I can.”

  Unable to speak, Inez reached up and gripped Susan’s hand. Motionless, they knelt among the ashes together, holding hands.

  “I need,” Inez finally said, “to see my son. I will be meeting him and my sister in Manitou, in less than two weeks.” She looked at Susan. “Will you come with me?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epperley’s bitterness at betrayal mixed with her own memories. Inez eased back in her chair and studied the manager of the Mountain Springs House with a closer eye.

  Epperley averted his face, as if to avoid her scrutiny, and ground out the cigarette in one of the shells of lemon rind. Inez noted the hunched set in his shoulders, the sudden tightness in his jaw, and the slight tremor in the hand that snuffed the cigarette. He might as well have shouted out his regret at having been so glib as to have inadvertently spilled so much to her.

  A muffled rap at the window caused them both to jump. Epperley looked up, and his face smoothed into a welcoming smile. “It’s your sister, Mrs. DuChamps, and her son.”

  Inez resisted the impulse to blurt, “My son.” Instead, she turned toward the window. Sure enough, Harmony was smiling on the other side, William’s hand clutched in hers.

  William— washed, brushed, dressed afresh, and presumably fed and rested—peered about the veranda. One chubby finger shot out, pointing at a nearby rocking chair. Inez could just discern the opening and closing wings of a butterfly resting on the back of the rocker. The nanny, Lily, stood behind Harmony, arms crossed, a sullen glower under her white cap. Harmony gave the window one more little tap and pointed to the door, eyebrows raised. Inez nodded and gestured for her to come inside.

  “Here she comes. The little boy—your nephew?—has quite a bit of the devil in him.” Epperley absently straightened his cuffs, touched his collar and tie. “I can see the family resemblance. He has your eyes, Mrs. Stannert.”

  Another fashionably dressed young woman, promenading past the window with two young boys in tow, stopped, shaded her eyes with a hand and leaned to see past the window’s reflection. A wide, dimpled smile spread across her face, and turned the young matron into a slip of a girl.

  “Mrs. McLaughlin has found us out as well. Her two boys will be clamoring for ices, mark my words. I suppose I shall have to open the room for afternoon business,” said Epperley.

  He leaned over the counter, stashed the liquor bottles out of sight, and then straightened up, brushing at his waistcoat and remarking, “Well, that was probably far more than you wanted to know about the hotel and so forth. Of course, if you have any questions about the medical side of the business, I’d say talk to Dr. P or perhaps Nurse Crowson. She’s quite conversant on most matters, and easier to track down than the doctor. When he’s locked in his back room, it’s best not to attempt conversation.”

  “The back room? Do you mean his study?” She remembered spotting a shadowy room beyond a half-open door, indistinct glassware glinting on counters, during her inquisition with Dr. Prochazka and the marshal.

  “Not quite. He’s conducting ‘research’ back there. Very important, will-change-the-world experiments. So he says.” Epperley made it sound as if he suspected the physician of engaging in acts of sexual perversion rather than intellectual advancement.

  As Epperley approached, pulling out the key to the door, Inez popped the sprig of mint into her mouth and chewed, hoping it would mask the flavor of the spiked lemonade. The mint blasted into her throat and sinuses. She hated mint.

  Swallowing hastily, she held up the tonic bottle. “Have you something I can cap this with?”

  “Of course. The corks litter the place. You find them in every room and every potted plant.” Epperley paused by a knick knack shelf, out of reach of curious little fingers but eye-level for adults, and fished out a cork from a delicate china bowl. “Should you ever need one, we collect them here, and the good nurse gathers them up periodically and trots them back to the doctor.”

  He handed her a cork, which she used to stop the small bottle before slipping it into her pocket.

  Epperley reached the door just in time to hold it open for Harmony, who breezed in, William in her arms, Lily following in her wake. “Inez, we missed you at lunch! I see you have found the ice cream parlor. You have had something to eat, I hope? You’ve been treated to one of Mr. Epperley’s famous lemonades, I see.”

  “Absolutely delightful lemonade,” agreed Inez. “Just the way I like it, not too sweet.”

  “Should I prepare one for you and the young sir?” Epperley made a movement toward the counter.

  “No, thank you, we have just finished luncheon.” Harmony’s gaze switched back to Inez. “I’m so glad we found you. The doctor likes us to walk after midday meals. He says it is good for the constitution. So we are going on a small walking excursion. Do say you’ll come with us!”

  Inez pushed the empty lemonade glass aside and stood. “Certainly.” She cast a glance at William and caught him gazing at her with an expression that reminded her of Mark sizing up a new opponent at the poker table. William immediately hid his eyes on Harmony’s shoulder.

  The lemonade-gin concoction in Inez’s stomach churned and turned sour.

  How could he forget me, his own mother? The more time I spend with him, the better the chance t
hat he will remember.

  “I shall need to fetch a hat and a parasol, but I shall be quick about it,” said Inez. “Where will this excursion take us? To the mineral springs across the road?”

  Harmony gave a small laugh, laced with sisterly fondness. “Oh, that is hardly more than a few minutes stroll, unless we were to go up to Ute Iron spring. We should save that for a cooler day. I thought perhaps to show you some of the marvelous rock formations nearby. This area is so different from the East, it takes my breath away. Truly a natural wonder.” She tickled William, saying, “I thought we would visit Williams’ Canyon. Wilkie! We are going to walk through the canyon that bears your name!”

  William wiggled as she tickled him. At the sound of his nickname, he lifted his face off her shoulder and bestowed a delighted grin on Harmony. That smile felt like a stab of a knife to Inez.

  “I’ll see you on the front porch, then.” Unable to stop herself, Inez reached out and stroked a little stripe-stockinged calf peeking out from under William’s dress. He kicked once, half-heartedly.

  Inez nodded her thanks to Epperley, who was juggling lemons for the young McLaughlin boys, who alternately clapped and demanded lemons of their own. She headed for the door, thinking that, yes, she definitely needed to spend every minute she could in William’s presence. No matter how long it takes, I won’t rest until he finally smiles and holds his arms out to me.

  ***

  Twenty minutes up the path that led into Williams’ Canyon, Inez was puffing. The glove that held her parasol aloft was soaked with sweat as was the back of her neck. Gravel crunched beneath her walking shoes at every step. With every inhalation, the sharp scent of dust made her want to cough or sneeze. She longed for another glass of Epperley’s powerful lemonade to quiet the tickle in her throat.

  It was hard for Inez to understand how Harmony could remain so cheerful and fresh-looking as she walked along, pointing and exclaiming over the striated canyon walls, banded with red and gray rock. As least, Inez reflected, it was mostly shady in the canyon, and they seemed to have it to themselves. It was also wide enough for them all to walk abreast. William had toddled manfully up the approach, but once the canyon was reached, he fussed and tugged at Lily’s skirts until she took him up. Lily trudged beside Inez, seeming impervious to William’s weight. Her oversized straw hat provided additional shade for William, who snoozed and drooled on her thin, stoic shoulder.

  At least, with Lily beside her, Inez was able to lightly rest one hand on William’s back as they walked. He slept on. Lily didn’t pull away, but she also refused to look at Inez. She simply matched her stride to Inez’s, and Inez felt absurdly grateful for that.

  Harmony chatted on. “Did you know that the canyon is named after one of New York’s own?”

  When Inez shook her head, she elaborated, “Mr. Henry Truman Williams, the New York editor and journalist? Well, perhaps you haven’t heard of him. He wrote a guidebook about the San Juan Mines a decade or more ago. Jonathan read it and was quite impressed. Isn’t it lovely here? All the rocks, their colors and the way they are layered, like a fancy torte.” She smiled at Inez. “Do you have canyons like this in Leadville?”

  “Heavens no.” Inez flashed on the wide-open spaces of the Arkansas Valley, Leadville nestled at the head of the Arkansas River, the tallest peaks of the Rockies five miles distant. She felt the walls of Williams’ Canyon close in, squeezing the breath out of her. “In Leadville, it is more wide open. It’s a mining city, of course, so there is plenty of industry—smelters, mines, stamping mills, and what have you. Still, there are some lovely meadows outside of town and the wildflowers are extraordinary.”

  Harmony tipped back her parasol to gaze at the cliffs looming overhead. “Well, then, this must be a treat for you. Ah, The Narrows are just ahead. Let’s go through and then decide how much farther we want to walk.”

  “The Narrows? You mean, it becomes narrower?” Inez wondered how she’d be able to manage.

  “Why, you can almost reach from one side to another as you pass through. It’s quite the adventure.”

  “I had no idea you were the adventurous type.”

  Harmony glanced at her. Inez thought she saw a shadow of…anger? Impatience? It flitted across her features so quickly, Inez couldn’t be sure she read it right.

  Harmony lifted one shoulder. “When you left home, I was ten years old. We did not begin our correspondence until much later. Even now, I have to be careful in writing to you. Should Papa discover we are in constant communication, he would be most unhappy. When you and I were finally together again, last year in Denver, it was only briefly.”

  She didn’t have to say: When I came across the country a year ago, at your urgent request. When you entrusted William to my care.

  “I suppose we don’t know each other very well,” Harmony’s voice had a forced lightness to it. “But we can begin to remedy that in our holiday together, here in Manitou.”

  “Of course,” Inez assured her. “I just wish the time we have together could be longer. A couple of weeks is really such a short time.”

  “We shall make the best of it. Ah! Here it is. The Narrows.”

  It was, indeed, narrow. More than that, the sides of the slim defile were not parallel. One side of the cliff bulged out, overhanging the path, while the other side seemed to lean back as if to escape, much as Inez wanted to do.

  “We’ll go through, shall we?” Harmony closed her parasol and walked through first.

  Inez closed her parasol as well and trotted through the opening. There was room for two people to walk abreast, yet Inez couldn’t help but feel that if she were to inhale, she might get stuck between the two walls. Lily shifted the toddler’s weight, repositioned a satchel hanging on one arm, and followed.

  “Good!” Harmony clapped her hands once. “There is a good place to rest just a few steps farther on. We can then decide whether to continue or return. I have heard that the trail ends at a waterfall. I’ve not been able to walk so far as to see it. I hope to do so, before the end of our holiday.”

  On the other side of The Narrows, Inez put her parasol back up and looked around. The walls of the canyon drew back, taking their proper place some distance from the path and leaving a small open area. Dusty green bushes and small gnarled trees, interspersed with grasses and tumbled rock of various sizes, dotted the canyon landscape.

  William woke and began to grumble the way small children do.

  “Lily, why don’t you take him up the path a bit and change him,” Harmony said.

  Lily set William down on unsteady feet. “C’mon, Wilkie, let’s get you fresh nappies.”

  He grabbed one of her fingers, and she led him up the path.

  “He’s still in diapers?” Inez asked. “Shouldn’t he be past that?”

  “He was, but the traveling has made all that difficult.” Harmony watched them until they disappeared around a bend. “It’s just easier this way. And really, what does it hurt?” Holding the parasol tipped against the breeze, she began pacing the width of the narrow trail. Inez watched her bite her lower lip and worry it with her teeth.

  “Is there something that concerns you, sister?” Inez asked.

  Harmony stopped. “Does it show so easily?” The parasol dipped. She crossed her free arm across her body, supporting her elbow.

  Inez waited.

  Finally, her sister said, “Yes. I am concerned.” Harmony’s voice, which had been cheery and full of confidence on the hike up the canyon now sounded small and uncertain. “What do you think of the Mountain Springs House?”

  “The hotel?” Inez tried to discern what lay behind the thread of fear that laced Harmony’s words. “It seems a perfectly reasonable establishment. Pleasant staff, well run. Don’t you like it?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. I meant, what do you think of its business prospects?” Harmony looked at her, face taut with the struggle to hold some strong emotion at bay. “I ask, because I know you essentially ran the fami
ly business up in Leadville, during your husband’s absence. I could tell from your letters that it prospered. You even engaged in some business contracts and agreements on your own, didn’t you? So you must be able to assess a business situation. Certainly better than I can. What do you think of the Mountain Springs House’s possibilities?”

  It was as if a dark cloud had appeared out of nowhere, covering the intense blue summer sky. Inez recalled snatches of conversation with Mr. Pace on the stagecoach ride, Kirsten Pace’s “all is not right” assertion by the creek, Epperley’s sideways comments about the hotel. A shiver went down her back that had nothing to do with the breeze tunneling through The Narrows, setting the dusty leaves quaking.

  “I am more familiar with mining prospects, truly, than resort areas such as Manitou and Colorado Springs,” Inez hedged.

  “Still. What do you think of its prospects? Be honest.”

  Inez was quiet a moment, gathering what she knew, turning the information this way and that, trying to pin down her uneasiness about the place.

  Finally, she spoke. “Manitou has been tooting its horn for some years now, as has Colorado Springs. However, this area is still a bit in the back of beyond, in my opinion. Its time may be coming, but it certainly hasn’t arrived. At least, not to the extent that all the advertisements and promotional hoopla suggest. Manitou is no Saratoga Springs. At any rate, not yet,” she amended. “It is hard to know when that time will come, or if it ever will. I get the impression that there is plenty of talk, that people are trying to create the anticipation of a coming ‘boom’ or bonanza in tourist trade and invalid care. The Mountain Springs House seems no different in that regard, in hatching plans for the future.”

  “Plans. Yes, well, that is part of what worries me.” Harmony took a deep breath. “Please, don’t tell anyone what I am about to tell you. I fear Jonathan is getting in over his head and will bring ruin on us all.”

  Alarmed, Inez asked, “What do you mean?”

  “I told you, didn’t I, that he and Mr. Pace had been conferring, looking about for investments, before Mr. Pace went to Leadville? Apparently things have progressed beyond just talk.” Harmony’s mouth set in a thin line. “This morning, Jonathan showed me an agreement he intends to sign. It promises that he will invest…well, a great deal of money…to become part owner of the hotel. I was shocked at the sum spelled out. It is far more than what he had talked about previously. Perhaps, with Mr. Pace’s death, all the hotel’s hopes for the future are pinned on us.”