Silver Lies Page 36

  Inez forced her to sit on the tarp. "You’re hurt!"

  Angel pointed at Inez: You too.

  "It looks worse than it is." Inez touched a sleeve gingerly to her throat and examined the smear. "Not much blood. But you—" She looked with concern at the dark red patch. "We need to stop that."

  Inez cut strips of canvas, binding Angel’s arm and ribs. Angel began to shiver, despite the stove. Inez glanced around. "I don’t see much we can use for fuel. We’ll freeze if we stay. Besides, you need those wounds tended."

  Inez ransacked Useless’ body, taking gloves from his pocket and socks and shoes from his feet. Inez considered removing his jacket, but it stank, soaked with blood and body fluids. Better for the dead. His thick outer coat had escaped the bloodbath. Inez layered his footgear over Angel’s dancing shoes.

  Inez buttoned her own jacket and retrieved her boots, then pulled on Useless’ gloves, hat, and heavy overcoat, saying, "When Useless doesn’t return by daybreak, Cat and Llewellyn will vanish with the evidence."

  Inez skirted the body and opened the back door. Snow poured in, wind whipping it in gusts.

  "We’ve got to move fast. You’d best stay here, where it’s warm. The less moving around you do, the better. The horse and wagon are probably in the outbuilding. I’ll bring them around."

  Angel gripped Inez’s arm. "I’ll not stay with that." She jerked her head toward Useless. "I come."

  Inez drew a breath to say no, then looked at Angel’s face. Who am I to tell her what to do.

  Instead, she removed the overcoat and bundled Angel into it. "Keep your hands in the pockets," she told Angel. "I’ll help you walk."

  Inez turned up her jacket collar and opened the door.

  Step by slow step, heads bent against the snow, they approached the outbuilding. Once there, Inez lifted the latch, and they fell into hay and animal warmth. Angel crumpled by the sleigh runners. Inez half lifted, half pushed Angel into the wagon bed, then fumbled to the door which had slammed shut in a sudden gust.

  Pushing the door open, she faced a wall of blackness, heard only the wail of wind, felt the solid blast of snow in her face.

  Whiteout. I can’t drive in this.

  Inez tugged the door shut. Taking the horse blanket, still warm from the animal’s back, she crawled into the wagon, and covered herself and Angel. "We’ll have to wait," she whispered. There was no response.

  The roar of the storm receded as she collapsed into unconsciousness.

  999

  Inez awoke, stiff and sore, alarmed at the absence of sound. For a moment, she thought the building completely buried. She shook Angel gently and was reassured when the girl stirred.

  Inez dragged herself out of the wagon and made her way to the horse’s head. She stroked the beast’s nose. He whuffed reassuringly.

  Inez forced the door open against the drifts and faced a world turned from black to silver-white. Moonlight glimmered through shredded clouds onto the faraway peaks of Massive and Elbert. Llewellyn’s workshop was a black shape with a silvered roof and light flickering through the window. She blinked. The light wavered and disappeared.

  A door slammed.

  "Inez! Angel!" Reverend Sands’ voice lifted from the stillness.

  Inez’s shout erupted in a squeak, dissolving into a cough that tore at her throat. Desperate, she ripped the glove off her hand.

  Joey’s words to his mother on Christmas Day drifted back to her: "Three whistles means help."

  She placed two fingers in her mouth.

  The piercing notes echoed off surrounding hills and ascended the night air to the heavens.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Two figures came into view around opposite ends of the workshop, the moon throwing their shadows long across the open space. They converged and hastened toward Inez, pinpoints of lantern light growing into disks.

  Reverend Sands arrived first, Bat Masterson close behind.

  Inez fell into Sands’ arms, giddy with relief and shaking with cold.

  "Angel," she rasped to Bat. "In the wagon. Hurt. Needs a doctor."

  Bat lifted the lantern high. "Jesus, Inez. You need a doctor yourself. That bastard do this to you? Deserved to have his guts ripped out. What happened to your hair?"

  "Check the wagon, Bat." Sands held Inez tighter, as if she might disappear like a skein of smoke.

  "Right. Angel in distress. My cue." He squeezed past them into the shack.

  Ignoring the agony in her throat, Inez raced to say what she had to say before her voice gave out entirely. "The storeroom in Cat’s parlor house. Llewellyn’s trunk, crate of counterfeit. Cat, Llewellyn, Cooke from the bank, they worked together. Cat killed Joe. Useless killed Nigel, hurt Emma. He was going to kill us both. Abe and I, we had nothing to do with any of this. I left my saddlebags with Cooke. He fixed it so we were to blame. They’ll leave if we don’t get back by daybreak. Get Gus Brown in Denver."

  Sands’ voice in her ear was soothing, warm. "We know, we know. I saw your gun in Mrs. DuBois’ house. We found Llewellyn; he told us where you were. He confessed to making counterfeit plates and implicated Cooke. Mrs. DuBois is in custody too. And mighty unhappy about it, as you can imagine."

  There was a commotion from the wagon bed. Bat jumped down hastily. "Someone tell her I’m a friend. She tried to scratch my eyes out!"

  Angel’s face peered over the side, ferocious, her dark hair curling like snakes. She saw Inez and Sands, and relaxed.

  "Cat had a signed bill of sale for the Silver Queen." Inez’s voice was nearly gone. "A forgery. We never sold the saloon to her."

  "Bill of sale for the Silver Queen?" Sands raised his eyebrows toward Bat, all innocence. Bat volleyed back the same bland expression. They looked like boys joined in a childhood conspiracy.

  Bat scratched a corner of his mustache. "Hey, Justice, think that might’ve been the paper that sort of got caught in the breeze and ended up in the fireplace? The one Mrs. DuBois kicked up such a fuss about?"

  "Ashes to ashes," murmured Sands, "dust to dust." He smoothed Inez’s short hair. "The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away. As Mrs. DuBois has discovered."

  "In this case," Bat said, "the Lord had Justice on His side."

  "I’ll get these ladies to a doctor." Sands voice sharpened. "Bat, take the horses back to town, and tell Harry and Gus."

  "Gus?" she whispered unbelieving. "Brown?"

  Sands smiled. "He arrived before you did. With lots of questions."

  "But I left him in Denver."

  Sands’ smile widened. "Gus is an old fox. He said he asked when you planned to return to Leadville. When you answered, he watched Joey. Said he knew from Joey’s expression that you were lying through your teeth."

  He held her out at arm’s length. "We can talk more later. Right now, let me get a look at you. At least, you’re walking, talking, thank God." He took in her face, her neck, and his expression tightened. "I’d’ve never picked Useless for being the type." His eyes traveled down her torn and bloody shirt, then stopped. "Jesus Christ. Did he—" His hands tightened, face stamped with sympathy and anguish.

  Inez looked down, wondering what elicited such a strong response. Through the buttonless gap in Mark’s pants, she saw Mark’s gray woolen drawers, soaked with blood. Astonishment transformed into puzzlement. Useless didn’t even get close. What—?

  A familiar abdominal cramp provided the answer.

  She closed her eyes and offered a silent prayer of thanks, then opened them and whispered, "It’s not that. It’s just…"

  Comprehension dawned and Sands pulled her close again. "So your day-counting wasn’t as far off as you thought."

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  During her convalescence, Inez gained an appreciation for the restorative powers of hot toddies, thanks to Doc, who believed in a high ratio of hot whiskey to sugar water. Doc also set her broken nose.

  "I’ve done this hundreds of times, my dear. In a couple weeks, your nose will regain its normal size and sha
pe and the bruising around the eyes will disappear. Your throat will heal as well. That laceration, however." He waggled a finger at the row of small neat stitches marching down her breastbone. "A little memento of your adventures. You may not want to wear low-cut dresses after this."

  Reverend Sands called the day after Doc’s surgery. She admitted him, with a purple nose, no voice, and many reservations. "I need time," she whispered from the refuge of her piano stool. Cat’s musings and Harry’s remarks roiled about, poisoning her thoughts.

  Tapping his hat on the back of the loveseat, Sands didn’t argue, although she saw a shadow cross his face, pulling a cloud over the sun. "When you’re ready then." The silver fob on his watch chain glinted as he rose to go. "By-the-bye, Harry offered me a reward for breaking the coney ring. I told him you deserved it as much as I. Probably more."

  "I don’t want Harry’s money!" she squeaked.

  Reverend Sands played out the circumference of his hat between his hands. "The church’s Widows and Orphans fund welcomes donations, if you’re looking for a charitable cause." He settled his hat on his head. "I’ll wait to hear from you, Inez. Maybe when Bat Masterson leaves town." Sands raised his eyebrows. Inez blushed through the purple and black bruises, wondering if he knew that Bat had called two hours earlier.

  Abe was released within hours of Inez’s return to town. To Inez’s eyes, he seemed grayer, grimmer. He and Inez agreed to keep the saloon closed until they could hire more help. Angel and Abe rescued Angel’s horsehair trunk from Cat’s boarding house and transported it to Abe’s home.

  Emma recovered consciousness just as Inez’s bruises faded from purple to green. Her memory, blessedly vague on most of the events leading to her condition, was clear where it counted. She told Marshal Hollis in no uncertain terms that it was Useless, not Abe, she’d surprised that gray dawn in her own home.

  As soon as Doc related the news of Emma’s recovery, Inez paid a visit to the hospital, Bible tucked under her arm. She found Susan Carothers visiting Emma as well. Susan’s bright brown eyes lit up, and she rose from her chair to give Inez a hug, talking nonstop all the while. "I’m so glad you’re up and around, Inez! I wanted to come see you, but Doc said I mustn’t, that you needed complete rest. I’m dying to know what happened. Both he and Reverend Sands have been so close-mouthed, it must have been quite adventurous, whatever you did. All that the reverend would say is that you disguised yourself as a man and quite successfully fooled everybody. I wish you would’ve come to me when you were planning whatever you were planning. I could’ve helped. Although," Susan hesitated and eyed Inez’s cropped locks, "I’m not sure I would have had the nerve to cut off my hair."

  Emma exclaimed over Inez’s hair and raccoon-like visage while Inez clucked over Emma’s gaunt form. After assurances on both sides, Inez handed Emma her Bible. Emma clasped the book, looking up with a dread that Inez read as clearly as the goldleaf on the leather-bound spine. Inez glanced at Susan, who had settled into the chair and was beaming at them both. Inez abandoned her plan to tell Emma what she’d discovered in the Bible and in Denver. Instead, she sat on the corner of the bed and said, "I never opened the Bible. I couldn’t stand to, after what happened."

  Relief washed anxiety from Emma’s face. "It’s not important. What is, is that you saved Joey and ended all this business. You and Reverend Sands."

  For the next two weeks, Inez focused her energies on Joey and Emma, helping them prepare for their delayed departure to Sacramento. She put off going to church, first one Sunday, then another, and another. When she thought of Sands, Inez remembered how it felt to lie close to him, her skin against his. His voice, warm and gentle as his hands. She shook the yearnings away. I must think this through. No more jumping in with eyes shut.

  January was drawing to a close when Inez accompanied Emma and Joey to Denver. On the train platform, promises to write flowed between the two women. Inez hugged Joey and handed him a new leather volume of Paradise Lost. "When you read about the angel wars," she whispered, "remember your Auntie Inez." She stood on the platform a long time after the smoke had receded from the west-bound train.

  Before leaving Denver, Inez paid a visit to the house on Holladay Street. Mattie Silks received her in the same rose and maroon parlor as before. Inez related an abbreviated version of the truth, deleting her scene with Harry and other judiciously chosen parts. Mattie listened, nodded, refilled their champagne glasses. The two women then exchanged views on horses, handguns, and the paucity of decent hired help.

  "We need a barman and a dealer," Inez said. "If you know anyone reliable, send him with your recommendation. I’ve offered the position of lead dealer to Bat Masterson—"

  Mattie raised her eyebrows.

  "He’s a friend," Inez emphasized.

  Mattie rolled her eyes.

  Mattie offered Inez the name of a Denver wigmaker. Inez declined, running a hand over her short-cropped hair. Privately, she reveled in the freedom from long tresses and the rituals of brushing, plaiting, and washing.

  Missing husbands did not enter the conversation.

  Returning to the hotel, Inez, on impulse, directed the driver to drive the length of Holladay. She leaned forward and gazed out the window, scrutinizing the men on the boardwalks, entering and exiting saloons, cribs, dancehalls, and parlor houses. She wondered what she would do if she spotted Mark at a door, adjusting his hat against the fading afternoon light. She shuddered and sat back against the cushioned seat.

  999

  Inez returned to Leadville to find the Silver Queen open and operating and a new diamond-dust mirror along the backbar. The biggest surprise was Angel, working by Abe’s side and wearing a wedding band.

  Abe wiped his hands on a bar rag. "We got ourselves some first-class help. This bardog’s a quick study and part of the family to boot. Mrs. Stannert, meet our new partner, Mrs. Jackson."

  Angel, her hair pinned up and proper, twisted her hands in her apron. Her brown eyes were full of hope and hesitation. Inez rounded the bar and embraced her. "Congratulations. And welcome to the Silver Queen."

  "As for the mirror," Abe said, "we needed something to hide that damn painting."

  The final surprise arrived a day later: a thousand-dollar check signed by Harry Gallagher along with a sprig of mistletoe bound with an evening primrose. There was no note. However, the small bouquet spoke its own language, a language Inez still remembered from ancient deportment lessons: I will surmount all obstacles, including your inconstancy.

  Abe squinted. "Mistletoe? Thought Christmas was over."

  She crushed the glossy leaves and sulfur-colored blossom in her hand. "You’re right, Abe. It’s over."

  The Independent reported Harry’s departure on an extended business trip. The same article noted that an East Coast consortium headed by Isaac Eisemer had bought Silver Mountain stock valued at three million dollars.

  A smaller item caught Inez’s eye. Harry had paid Chet Donnelly fifteen thousand dollars for a claim west of the tiny gold camp of Independence. The transaction made hardly a ripple in the daily talk and discussion around Leadville. The town’s attention was riveted on the Supreme Court decision giving the Denver & Rio Grande right-of-way to build a railroad line through the Arkansas Valley to Leadville. The D&RG promised to push the line through the long winter season and open the rails by summer.

  999

  In February, Inez’s bruises paled to yellow and faded away. She resumed her place behind the bar and reopened the Saturday night poker games. Bat Masterson was a frequent visitor, walking her home after hours and filling Harry’s chair on Saturday evenings.

  One night, as she prepared to say goodnight to him on her porch, he leaned against the door, blocking her access. "Inez. I got a telegram this afternoon asking me to be a delegate to the Ford County Republican Convention. I’ll be heading for Dodge tomorrow and probably on to Topeka."

  "I see." She swung her key between her fingers. "Decided against making Leadville your home?"
<
br />   "I’ll be back. Late spring, early summer." He folded his arms and looked uncomfortable. "To tell the truth, I made a small fortune playing the tables, but it’s still not enough to buy a place in Leadville. I want my own business, Inez. I don’t want to work for anyone. Not even you." He sounded regretful.

  "Well," she said, not certain if she felt disappointed or relieved. "I’d hoped to convince you otherwise."

  After a moment, he took her hand. He played with her fingers, bending them one at a time as if testing their flexibility. Focusing on her fingers, he said, "Wondered how you felt about forming a partnership. We could mosey around Colorado or Arizona when I come back. See what’s up."

  She searched his face, still bent over her hand, and saw hope mingled with panic in a "What have I said?" expression. He’s so young. Only a few years behind her, yet impatient, unsettled, hungry to see if the next town might prove better, hold more adventure, more silver.

  I’ve already lived this. Ten years ago, when I said yes to Mark. The realization made it easier for her gently to withdraw her hand.

  "I’m flattered you’d ask, Bat. But Abe and Angel are all the partners I need for now. And Leadville’s as close to home as I have."

  Disappointment darkened his expression, although Inez thought she also saw a glimmer of relief. "Well, think about it. Come spring, you might change your mind."

  She smiled. "You might change yours, too."

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Two nights later in the Silver Queen’s office, Inez counted the evening’s take while Abe and Angel closed up downstairs. After locking the safe, she paused by the window. Fat, slow snowflakes, more like spring than winter, drifted past. The moon hung below the clouds, so intense it shone like a beacon through the window.