themselves portrayed, silver swords held high, on one side or the other."
Abe pondered. "Might keep folks entertained through the winter months. All right. But come May, when the snow melts and we can afford it, we get another mirror hauled in from Chicago ."
She squeezed his arm. "Deal!"
Abe smiled at her. "Inez, sometimes you’re like one of those mountain storms. A force of nature that a man’s just gotta go along with."
"Er-hem." A cough and shuffle from the direction of the kitchen shattered the moment. Inez and Abe shifted away from each other hastily.
Useless emerged from the shadows. "Didn’t mean to interrupt."
"You’re not interrupting." Inez moved behind the counter and began sweeping the debris to one end. "Mr. Jackson and I were talking about what to do with the back wall. A painting, we thought. Classical, on a grand scale."
"A painting?" Useless sounded mystified.
"The fellow who did our signage last summer. Isn’t he also a portraitist?"
Useless looked around as if she might be addressing someone else.
"Come on, Useless. You were working for Cat but you used to drop in with him for a drink. A Cousin Jack, a Cornishman. Short. Dresses like a swell."
Abe tipped a round table on edge and rolled it toward the wall. "Llewellyn Tremayne. Hear he painted Mrs. DuBois real lifelike. Supposed to be hangin’ in her private rooms."
"Uh. I don’t know about that." Useless shifted on his feet, gazing uneasily at the blank wall behind Inez.
"But you remember Tremayne," she persisted.
"Yeah. Sure."
"Well, he’s the one I want. Useless, after we finish here, find him and tell him I’ve got a business proposition. Now, let’s restock." Inez finished wiping the backbar. Useless disappeared into the back. Thumping ensued from the storeroom, interrupted by the sounds of crates being dragged about. The thudding was echoed by a pounding on the front door.
"Closed!" shouted Inez. "Come back tomorrow!"
The pounding ceased.
"Abe," Inez dropped the rag into the crate. "I promised Emma that I’d go over Joe’s accounts and his assay office."
Lopsided footsteps approached unevenly from the kitchen. Inez reached below the bar to the shotgun. "We’re closed!"
"Now my dear, if I’d said that every time your husband appeared in the middle of the night about your boy.…" Dr. Cramer, leaning on his cane, limped into view.
"She means closed to all but friends, Doc." Abe pulled an unbroken chair close to the bar. Doc waved it away.
"No thank you, Mr. Jackson. I just dropped by for a quick libation before heading on to another case of consumption."
He hooked the silver-headed cane on the lip of the bar and propped his elbows on the surface. He rubbed his long, droopy face with both hands, before looking up with bloodshot eyes. "How about some of your soul-bracing brandy." He stretched his gimpy leg, then bent it tentatively. "The old war wound is acting up again. More precipitation before day’s end."
At one time, Doc’s physique had been impressive, giving him the look of a lumbering grizzly as he limped down the boardwalks of Leadville on his rounds. But the past year had sheared the meat from his frame, leaving skin that, around his face in particular, looked pouchy and deflated, as if it could use a good bit of steam or some of Bridgette’s meals to fill it out.
Useless staggered by with a crate of bottles and set it on the backbar. Inez found Doc’s favorite brand and hunted up a clean snifter. "Bad night?"
Doc removed his top hat and smoothed back iron gray hair. "Lost Mrs. French and her baby." He sighed, and his face sagged further. "The miners and their endless consumption is bad enough. But losing a woman in travail.…" He shook his head, mutton chops quivering. Inez hesitated, then filled the snifter further, before pushing both the bottle and glass toward him.
"I’m sure you did everything you could."
He rested his huge hands around the bulbous glass. "Thank you, my dear."
Inez watched
Abe pondered. "Might keep folks entertained through the winter months. All right. But come May, when the snow melts and we can afford it, we get another mirror hauled in from Chicago ."
She squeezed his arm. "Deal!"
Abe smiled at her. "Inez, sometimes you’re like one of those mountain storms. A force of nature that a man’s just gotta go along with."
"Er-hem." A cough and shuffle from the direction of the kitchen shattered the moment. Inez and Abe shifted away from each other hastily.
Useless emerged from the shadows. "Didn’t mean to interrupt."
"You’re not interrupting." Inez moved behind the counter and began sweeping the debris to one end. "Mr. Jackson and I were talking about what to do with the back wall. A painting, we thought. Classical, on a grand scale."
"A painting?" Useless sounded mystified.
"The fellow who did our signage last summer. Isn’t he also a portraitist?"
Useless looked around as if she might be addressing someone else.
"Come on, Useless. You were working for Cat but you used to drop in with him for a drink. A Cousin Jack, a Cornishman. Short. Dresses like a swell."
Abe tipped a round table on edge and rolled it toward the wall. "Llewellyn Tremayne. Hear he painted Mrs. DuBois real lifelike. Supposed to be hangin’ in her private rooms."
"Uh. I don’t know about that." Useless shifted on his feet, gazing uneasily at the blank wall behind Inez.
"But you remember Tremayne," she persisted.
"Yeah. Sure."
"Well, he’s the one I want. Useless, after we finish here, find him and tell him I’ve got a business proposition. Now, let’s restock." Inez finished wiping the backbar. Useless disappeared into the back. Thumping ensued from the storeroom, interrupted by the sounds of crates being dragged about. The thudding was echoed by a pounding on the front door.
"Closed!" shouted Inez. "Come back tomorrow!"
The pounding ceased.
"Abe," Inez dropped the rag into the crate. "I promised Emma that I’d go over Joe’s accounts and his assay office."
Lopsided footsteps approached unevenly from the kitchen. Inez reached below the bar to the shotgun. "We’re closed!"
"Now my dear, if I’d said that every time your husband appeared in the middle of the night about your boy.…" Dr. Cramer, leaning on his cane, limped into view.
"She means closed to all but friends, Doc." Abe pulled an unbroken chair close to the bar. Doc waved it away.
"No thank you, Mr. Jackson. I just dropped by for a quick libation before heading on to another case of consumption."
He hooked the silver-headed cane on the lip of the bar and propped his elbows on the surface. He rubbed his long, droopy face with both hands, before looking up with bloodshot eyes. "How about some of your soul-bracing brandy." He stretched his gimpy leg, then bent it tentatively. "The old war wound is acting up again. More precipitation before day’s end."
At one time, Doc’s physique had been impressive, giving him the look of a lumbering grizzly as he limped down the boardwalks of Leadville on his rounds. But the past year had sheared the meat from his frame, leaving skin that, around his face in particular, looked pouchy and deflated, as if it could use a good bit of steam or some of Bridgette’s meals to fill it out.
Useless staggered by with a crate of bottles and set it on the backbar. Inez found Doc’s favorite brand and hunted up a clean snifter. "Bad night?"
Doc removed his top hat and smoothed back iron gray hair. "Lost Mrs. French and her baby." He sighed, and his face sagged further. "The miners and their endless consumption is bad enough. But losing a woman in travail.…" He shook his head, mutton chops quivering. Inez hesitated, then filled the snifter further, before pushing both the bottle and glass toward him.
"I’m sure you did everything you could."
He rested his huge hands around the bulbous glass. "Thank you, my dear."
Inez watched
Similar Books
