Silver Lies (63 page)

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?"

"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."

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.

Footsteps on the stairs recalled her to the present. She buttoned her gloves, addressing the door behind her. "I’m just about ready to go."

Her heart leaped to her throat when she heard Reverend Sands reply, "I was hoping we could talk first."

She turned and saw him, hands behind his back, the military man waiting to be recognized. The moon picked out the silver loop of his watch chain. She turned back to the window. "Abe let you in?"

"And left with his lovely wife. If you want an escort home, I’m it."

Silence.

"I’ve been waiting. Almost two months now. A long time."

Silence.

She heard him step forward. "Inez?"

"I understand Mrs. DuBois sold all her holdings to buy legal counsel for herself and Llewellyn." Inez touched the glass, so cold she could feel it through her calfskin glove. "Turns out, she’d bought Nils Hansen’s claim using Joe Rose as go-between. And other claims as well." She shook her head. "Poor Nils. He was probably embarrassed beyond belief to discover his ‘secret buyer’ was a State Street madam."

He spoke from behind her. "Llewellyn escaped custody in Denver."

"So I heard. You don’t sound upset."

"I don’t work for the Secret Service anymore. If I did, and I’d been the operative making the collar, I’d be upset."

"But since you work for Harry, it’s different."

Sands sighed. "My agreement with Harry was to break the ring in Leadville. I also told him I’d not take a single life in the process. That part of me was finished, I thought. Spiritual arrogance on my part. As a wise man once said, ‘To thine own self be true.’ We can’t accept some parts of the self and toss out the rest."

"Shakespeare," Inez said half to herself. "That’s from
Hamlet
, not scripture."

"Truth comes in many forms." Another step. "That night, when Llewellyn told us what Useless planned to do to you…I went to the workshop ready to kill him."

Inez traced a pattern of frost down the pane. "That night, Mrs. DuBois said you’d been a frequent visitor."

"Mrs. DuBois counterfeited truths to suit her needs. Yes, I visited. To listen, to observe. You and I, we unraveled the same mystery by different paths. You, through Joe Rose, me, through Harry."

"Harry. The Secret Service. There’s a lot I don’t know about you."

"And a lot I don’t know about you. But we could change that. Inez," another step forward, "a delegation from the church has asked me to stay."

"Interim minister offered permanent post. Isn’t that… irregular?"

"Opportunities presented are often not those one expects." He cleared his throat. "However, there’s only one reason I would stay in Leadville."

She finally faced him. "Three months ago, I’d have sworn that my husband was dead. But now…Mark may be alive. In Denver. Somewhere."

Sands frowned, considering. "Have you heard from him?"

"No."

"Has someone said that, without a doubt, they’ve seen him?"

"No."

"What would you do if he walked through the door, right now?"

Inez thought. "Three months ago, I would have screamed, swore, thrown a few things. Then," she smiled ruefully, "forgiven him, I suppose. But now…I don’t know. Too much has changed."

Reverend Sands was quiet a moment, then said, "I’m willing to take those odds."

"Odds." She shook her head. "In our first conversation, I accused you of being a professional gambler. Is that also part of your deep dark past?"

"I remember that meeting. I came to your house, angry that you hadn’t notified me about Joe Rose’s death. I was immediately charmed by your green-striped stockings. I thought, any woman who would answer the door wearing those stockings and no shoes was worth pursuing. So, Inez, shall we take a gamble? Start over, go slower this time?"

Inez turned and pressed her forehead against the window pane. The cold sank in, chilling her to the back of her bare neck. She closed her eyes and spoke slowly. "I can’t promise anything, Justice."

"I’m not asking for promises. Just for a chance."

A loud crash out on State startled the street into silence. In the lull of drunken hoots and traffic noise, Inez heard a piano, backed by a brass band, swing into a waltz. The clamor

returned, but the music rose above it.