Silver Lies (25 page)

Harry leisurely lit a cigar. "Once a railroad, any railroad, sets up business, freighting costs will drop. I’m betting on D&RG, myself."

Everyone present knew that Jed’s family fortunes rode on the
Santa Fe
.

Jed’s face darkened. "Now that you’ve consolidated the claims around
Silver
Mountain
, with Cooper’s help, I’ve heard you’re opening an assay office at the mine. Guess local business wasn’t up to your standards, Harry."

Unperturbed, Harry rolled his cigar ash into a crystal ashtray. "The mine’s big enough to support a company assayer."

"Sounds like
Silver
Mountain
is prospering, if silver prices are any indication." Doc, like many others in town, bought shares in the local mines and avidly followed production figures and the silver market.

"I’ll put it this way, gentlemen. And Mrs. Stannert. Don’t sell your shares of
Silver
Mountain
yet."

"The way real estate’s appreciating, Mrs. Stannert’s sitting on a bonanza right here on
Harrison
and State. Last I heard, business district lots were going for ten thousand dollars." Cooper’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at Inez. "Had any buyout offers lately?"

Inez cut the deck and watched Jed deal. "The saloon’s still not for sale."

At the
midnight
break, Inez stopped by the bar. Abe poured an inch of brandy into the bottom of a coffee cup and handed it to her, then glanced at a nearby knot of dark-skinned men with somber faces. "More Exodusters. Don’t know what they expected to find here that isn’t in
Kansas
. More snow. More cold. Only work is underground. Most were dirt farmers from the South. A damn shame."

He capped the brandy and nodded toward the card room. "You might have a taker for that empty seat."

Reverend Sands stood inside the room, surveying the décor. He turned at Inez’s approach and nearly sloshed his coffee onto the carpet at her feet. "Pardon me, Mrs. Stannert. I was just admiring the room." His gaze, which he valiantly attempted to keep at eye level, kept straying to her dress. "Exquisite. The décor, I mean."

"It’s meant to be," she said with a hint of a smile. "Are you here to watch or play?"

"What’s the limit?"

"No limit. Quarter eagle ante."

"I’ll watch."

Inez continued to the kitchen for coffee. Strong to begin with, after hours on the range it was as black and impenetrable as the night sky. Her return found Doc expounding on clergy in saloons.

"I’ve witnessed more sermons than I can number where the good man of the cloth raves about the evils of cards and the devil in drink. All from the floor of a saloon! Dilutes the message, if I may say so."

From a chair by the stove, Reverend Sands said, "It depends, Doctor. If the point is to preach to sinners, one goes where the sinners are. And that’s rarely the church."

"What about you?" Jed filled his pipe. "You don’t rave from the pulpit about the sins and moral weaknesses of men?"

The reverend swirled his coffee meditatively. "My religious philosophy leans more to the adage, ‘All things in moderation.’ Where sin lies, I believe, is when we begin to see everything and everyone in absolutes. Black or white. Saved or damned. Pure or stained." He smiled at Inez. "I strive for a more balanced, rational approach to saving souls. The good Lord himself said, ‘Let your moderation be known unto all men.’ Philippians, four."

Doc banged enthusiastically on the table with one ham-sized fist. The glasses shivered. "My philosophy exactly!"

Evan interrupted. "Excuse me, but I’m here to play poker. Not discuss religion. Begging the reverend’s pardon."

Inez nodded and began to shuffle.

999

"Last hand, gentlemen."

"Next Saturday is the twentieth. Almost Christmas." Cooper pulled out a slim leather case and extracted a last cigar. "Will you be open on the holiday, Mrs. Stannert?"

Inez watched Harry deal the cards. "You’ll have to find your Christmas cheer elsewhere. We’ll be closed."

He lit his cigar. "The only saloon that will be. But I suppose you can afford it."

"It’s a question of priorities, Mr. Cooper."

Cooper exhaled, watching the smoke curl and disappear into the room’s haze. "And after Christmas comes the Silver Soiree."

Evan spoke up. "I hear the guest list is exclusive. So, Cooper, you made the cut?"

Cooper’s white teeth flashed in reply.

The final hand played out uneventfully, with Jed the winner. The players prepared to leave. As Inez accepted Jed’s portion for the house, Cooper approached Harry, who was savoring the last of his cigar. Inez caught Cooper’s low voice: "…the last holdout?"

Harry’s reply slid to her under the general symphony of masculine voices. "This has dragged on too long. Everyone has a price. Find out his and pay it. Otherwise—"

"How’s that Smoot handling, Mrs. Stannert? Had an opportunity to try it on a moving target yet?" Evan’s voice drowned out the rest of Harry’s response. The merchant had wandered over, near-empty glass in hand.

One hand still on the strongbox, Inez patted the concealed pocket in her overdress. Her Remington Number Two Pocket Revolver, Smoot’s Patent, nestled inside. "It’s my constant companion. But I’ve only wounded tin cans and bottles."

"Cleaning it regularly?" Evan set his glass on the table.

"Religiously."

"Interesting term when applied to weaponry." Sands set his cup by Evan’s.

Inez gave up trying to eavesdrop on Cooper and Harry. "Carrying a gun
is
a religious matter around here. Only a fool would go unarmed—" She stopped, glancing involuntarily at the reverend’s waistcoat. Below the watch chain, she saw the heavy gleam of a gun belt.

He finished her sentence. "In Leadville. So I’ve been told." His smile didn’t hide the exhaustion on his face.

She cocked her head. "Long day, Reverend?"

"It was. After our talk this morning, I called on the Roses." He took a breath as if preparing to plunge into cold water. "Mrs. Stannert, would you allow me to walk you home? We could continue our conversation of this morning."

Inez hesitated, looking into his tired eyes.
Not blue. Not gray. Hard to pin down. Just like he is.

Behind her, Harry shifted. Turning her head slightly, she could just see his profile. He appeared to be lending one ear to Cooper’s exposition and another in her direction. The chandelier lights glinted off a silver cufflink as Harry leaned over to grind out his cigar in the ashtray. She remembered his proprietary grip on her arm as he propelled her through the door of his mining office. And his words:
"Next time, we’ll discuss other matters."

With profits in the safe, her day clothes on, and her cloak over her arm, Inez paused on the landing outside her office and examined the milling multitudes below. The scent of whiskey, stale bodies, and cheap tobacco rose with the smoky haze.

Reverend Sands stood talking with the Exodusters, who huddled together, stoop-shouldered and underdressed for the harsh mountain winter. She wondered how long it had been since they’d had a regular meal and how many Leadville saloons and restaurants had turned them away with the curt statement "We don’t serve coloreds."

Inez approached Abe. "Did they get something to eat?"

"Coffee, leftover stew. Coffee was pretty thick."

She nodded a greeting at the haggard faces. Not one nodded back. Tattered gloves and mittens—some no more than rags— gripped tin mugs.

She turned back to Abe. "Can you close tonight without me?"

"You’re leavin’ now?" Concern flickered over Abe’s face.

"I have an escort." She inclined her head in Sands’ direction.

Abe’s eyebrows collided with wrinkles of disbelief.

She hurried on. "I’m meeting Nigel at the bank early. I can’t stay much longer tonight. I’m exhausted. Can you manage?"

Abe gathered up the empty bowls and stacked them in the tub destined for the kitchen. "Those men, they’ve got no money, no place to stay. I told them they could sleep on the floor tonight and tomorrow. I planned on stayin’ so’s Bridgette won’t have a fit in the mornin’."

"Ready, Mrs. Stannert?" The reverend was at her side, adjusting his hat.

"Yes, I am. Good night, Abe. I’m glad you offered them the floor." Feeling guilty, Inez walked toward the door. The pianist, seeing her leaving, swung into "I’ll Take You Home Again, Kathleen."
He’ll pay for that.

Outside, Inez exhaled, watching her breath snake away into the light pouring from the doors closing behind her. The storm had passed. Half a moon limned ragged clouds with a cold, fierce light.

She slid her gloved hand around the reverend’s proffered arm and they maneuvered through the crowds on State. She was aware of how her hand nestled between the reverend’s arm and his wool overcoat. It felt so solid. Safe. She wriggled her fingers experimentally. He turned his face toward her. Even though the wide hat brim cast a deep shadow, she could still see his expression. Warm. Waiting.

"So, Reverend. Why did you leave the
Golden
State
and come to
Cloud
City
?"

"
Cloud
City
. Yes, I’ve heard Leadville called that." He glanced up at the moon breaking through racing clouds, then focused on negotiating around the brass band in front of the Board of Trade Saloon. When the trumpeting had faded behind them, he said, "Leadville’s closer to heaven than
Sacramento
."