Mercury's Rise (Silver Rush 04) (35 page)

“May I see the bottle a moment?”

Mrs. Pace handed it back.

Inez examined the ragged ring of wax around the bottle’s neck: It was a cloudy white, like the wax that still clung to the sides of the cork. Removing a glove, she picked at the dark wax on the top surface with a fingernail.

Bits flaked off, revealing the paler layer below. She lifted one large fragment, and the dark wax fell away in a single chunk.

“Someone resealed the bottle top?” she said aloud. “But not the entire bottle. So the cork wasn’t removed, else the new wax would have covered the old seal. So why only the top?”

With a sheepish glance at Mrs. Pace, Inez fished her oft-ignored reading glasses out of her reticule and hooked them over her ears.

This is no time for vanity, but for clear and sharpened vision.

Even then, it was hard to see—given the rougher surface where the added layer of wax had attached—what the original wax surface had looked like and if it had been disturbed in some way.

But if one surface tells half the story, then perhaps the other will tell me the rest.

With excitement and dread building insider her, Inez turned the cork over to examine the bottom. She tipped it, to send a slanting light over the smooth cork surface.

There, in the center, a dark dot displaced the brown finish.

A hole.

Chapter Thirty-five

“When I stripped all the wax off, there it was: a hole in the top. Someone punctured the cork with something thin and sharp, like a needle,” Inez finished.

“Hmm.” Mark kept his eyes on the road ahead, but Inez could almost imagine him running through her story of her meeting with Mrs. Pace, from beginning to end. “Anything else about the bottle strike you or the widow as odd?”

“She thought the mint smell was stronger than usual. Of course, it’s hard to tell, from vapors several days old. It’s a miracle any of the liquid remained at all.”

“Maybe the tonic has some oil mixed in. The coach was left untouched overnight, you went hunting under the seat the very next day. Lady Luck was smiling on you, Inez.”

“I hope she smiles a little longer so this whole business can be resolved. William!” she said sharply to their offspring, who was squirming between them on the buggy seat. “Sit still!”

Their family outing had started on a low note for Inez. After his morning tour of the hotel and grounds, Mark had met Harmony, Lily, Inez, and William in the garden to prepare for the ride. Lily had handed off a large drawstring bag to Inez, saying, “For Wilkie. Fresh nappies and pilches, extra frock ‘n stockings, mashed-potatoes-gravy to eat.” She said all of this very fast, without looking at Inez.

Meanwhile, Mark had crouched down to William’s level and said, “Wilkie, look what I’ve brought for you,” and held out a toy. This was not a simple ball or hoop, but a small tin horse with a bell around its neck, mounted on a miniature wood boat with four elegantly turned tin wheels. William’s eyes widened. Mark set the toy on the ground and pulled the string attached to it. The bell around the horse gave a series of small, sharp
pings
. Mark held the string out to his son. William released Lily’s apron hem, and grasped the string. He tugged it, the wheels lurched forward, and the bell chimed once.

William had looked up at Mark and smiled, open-mouthed with delight.

Jealousy had stabbed Inez through and through, sharper than any needle.

The wheeled toy, of course, had to come with them on the drive. When Mark asked if Inez had a preference as a place to go, she promptly said “Cheyenne Canyon,” with the half-formed idea that they might run into the Pace children and nanny, and perhaps form a party. The thought of spending time alone with Mark—with only William for buffer—made her nervous. The drive, it turned out, was one recommended to Mark by Morrow, so he was agreeable to the proposition. It also was taking longer than she’d anticipated, so she took her time detailing the conversation with Mrs. Pace.

The road wound up and up, the horse plodded, slowly, methodically. Inez wanted to grab the reins from Mark and urge the horse to at least a trot.

“So, that was my morning,” she finished. “Did you learn anything about the Mountain Springs House or the clinic that might be useful?”

“Well, I’d say if there’s humbug going on, Dr. Zuckerman is part of it, but not Dr. Prochazka,” said Mark. “Dr. Prochazka is all tied up in his clinic, and his work on consumption and wasting diseases. I’d say he doesn’t give a hoot about the hotel itself, just as long as he can stay king of his own castle and clinic. Dr. Zuckerman, though, he comes on considerable strong about the future of the area. He swears he’s locked up a fortune in Manitou and Colorado Springs and says the area will ‘make money rain.’”

“What’s your take on Zuckerman? He apparently has a physician’s credentials.”

His lip curled. “I’ve been in the game long enough to recognize a bunko steerer. Doesn’t matter if they be pedigreed or half-breed, dressed in silk or shoddy. It’s the same hook and line.”

“Exactly what I thought,” Inez said, feeling vindicated. “So, are you allowing him to reel you in?”

“I’ll allow him to believe he’s landing a sucker with a large bank account. For now.”

Inez couldn’t help it. She threw back her head and laughed. It was such a relief to have someone on her side who understood the game and who could so expertly identify a con in play and turn it back on itself.
Until Mark arrived, there was no one here in Manitou I could talk to openly about this.

A sudden image of Reverend Sands blew across her mind. She choked off the laugh, feeling a traitor.

They’d reached the top of a sloping mesa, and Mark halted the carriage. He pointed to a colony a few miles away and below, commenting, “General Palmer’s town, Colorado Springs. That’s where I got off the train last evening. Didn’t have much opportunity to look around. The hotel’s carriage was waiting when I arrived.” Tiny buildings and structures were sprinkled along a grid of platted streets. Small trees showing as a line of faint green dots at distance, courageously guarded the main boulevard. The town appeared very isolated against the open plains to the east. The wide space, which seemed to rush on forever without boundary to the end of the earth, made Inez feel very small.

“Shouldn’t be long before we’re in the canyon, according to the hotel’s driver, that Morrow fellow. Then we can stop somewhere along the water.”

“What about Lewis and Epperley? Are they players as well?”

William’s toy was becoming a major annoyance, as he turned it this way and that, rolling it on his lap and shaking it to make it ring. The corner of the toy’s platform seemed to bump the same spot on Inez’s leg at every jounce along the way. She covered the corner with her hand, to cushion the sharp edge.

“Didn’t hear much from them today. Zuckerman did all the talking, when Prochazka wasn’t. I’ll spend more time with them tomorrow.” He glanced sideways at Inez, then back at the road. “One thing I noticed though, that was passing strange.”

“What is that?”

“Well, the talk turned to the War, as it inevitably does among men of a certain age. Between Mr. DuChamps and myself, we stood up for the blue and the grey. No hard feelings, we agreed, as the time’s long past now. Dr. Zuckerman declaimed that he’d been part of the forces out here in the Far West, and saw not much in the way of action besides an almighty lot of cholera, typhoid, and French pox. Even Epperley spoke up, offering his English opinion on the War Between the States.”

“So?”

“So, Franklin Lewis said not a word.”

Inez squinted in thought. William struggled to remove her hand from the boat, prying her fingers back. She ignored him. “Did Mr. Lewis perhaps not fight at all, then?”

Mark shrugged. “He shifted the conversation back to money, so of course everyone jumped like hounds offered a fresh-killed rabbit. But as we talked about this battle and that, where we were when word of surrender came down—none of us in the War will ever forget that momemt—he looked for all the world like someone had backed him up to a wall and shoved a pistol in his face. I pegged him as a deserter or something of the like. I’d bet a dollar to a dime that he’s hiding something that happened during the War that’s beyond the usual horrors. Something he’s ashamed of.”

She nodded.
Men and the War. Even if they don’t talk about it, you can see in their eyes that they are remembering. Just as with Reverend Sands: the War is with him always, like a shadow. Even when the shadow’s invisible—at high noon, or the darkest midnight —it’s there. Inescapable.

Thinking of the reverend induced a muddle of longing, guilt, and an overwhelming sense of loss. “Will you meet more with them tomorrow?” she asked.

He nodded. “Your brother-in-law and I will be sampling soda waters from the various springs and hearing of all the plans for the future—no doubt with an eye as to how much they’re hoping to slide from our pockets. Later, we’re scheduled to dine in Colorado Springs with local movers and shakers. It’ll be a long day away.”

“See if you can’t get both Epperley and Lewis to go with you. I’m going to do a little looking around the hotel, and it will be easier if neither of them remain behind.”

“Just where do you have in mind, Inez?”

She hesitated. “Well, there’s a lower floor to the hotel. Mrs. Pace went down there once, looking for her children. She said that, in addition to a storage area, there are rooms, which may include Lewis’ private office and some living quarters. I’d like to see if I can find any papers that might provide an indication of the current financial health of the hotel. If I don’t have to worry about Lewis and Epperley, I’m certain I can fast-talk my way past any other hotel staff.”

“I’m sure you can.” He was quiet a moment, and then added, “Be careful, Inez.”

“Of course. And you be careful they don’t fast-talk our hard-earned silver right out of your pocket.” It was only after the words were out, that she realized she had said
our
silver. She clamped her mouth shut, annoyed with herself.

The road had narrowed as it entered the canyon, and the air cooled. Fir, spruce, yellow pine rose high above while birds squawked, cawed, and sang liquid songs. A stream of frothy water rushed by, roaring as if demanding to be set free from its banks.

A widening in the canyon appeared as they rounded a generous turn. A buggy with “The Cliff House” lettered on the back was pulled to one side, the horse standing patiently and the driver settled on the ground nearby, back to a large boulder, hat pulled down over his eyes. “This looks like a good place,” Inez said.

Mark pulled to a stop, gazing into the mountains. “Heard tell there’s seven falls tucked further back.”

“We’ve gone far enough.” She pulled the satchel Lily had provided for William from the back seat of the buggy, hopped down, and stretched out her free arm. “Come, William.”

Still clutching the toy, he hesitated, then stepped into her embrace. She staggered a little under his sudden weight. The toy banged into her still aching shoulder. Stifling a curse, she set him on his feet and took his hand.

“Will you get the picnic basket?” she called over her shoulder, and approached the snoozing driver.

“Pardon me,” she said. “Is this the buggy for the Pace party?”

He lifted his hat, looking a little bleary-eyed from his nap. “Yup. Chillun and their nanny’s down by the water.”

“Thank you,” she said, and started down the trail, tugging on William’s hand to encourage him along. “Come along, William. You have some friends down here who will no doubt be happy to see you.”

William had a death grip on the string of his pull toy, it jounced and bounced down the trail, the bell on the horse tinkling fast and violent. The approach was blessedly short, ending in a long, winding bench of gravel by the stream. Inez was happy to see two small figures, dominated by a larger one cradling a baby, about fifty feet away.

“Look, William, it’s Mathilda, Atticus, and Edison.” She waved to get their attention.

The two older children ceased poking sticks in the gravel and bounded toward Inez and William.

“Wilkie!” screeched Mathilda.

Inez let go of his hand, and Mathilda heaved him up off his feet a few inches. “Eeeuw,” she said. “You need your nappies changed, Wilkie.”

She promptly set him back down, saying, “Where’s your mum and da, Wilkie?”

Inez started to say “Right here,” but stopped short.

Atticus had circled around to examine William’s toy. He experimentally tapped the bell. Wilkie shouted, “No! Mine!” He yanked the string, causing the horse to flip over. The bell gave up a muffled
thunk
.

Glad for the distraction, Inez said, “I’d better hold this for now.”

She picked up the toy, ignoring an indignant wail from William, just as the nanny puffed up with Edison.

“Hello ma’am, Mrs. Stannert. Imagine seeing you here. We’re all getting a little fresh air while the missus rests. It’s lovely here, but careful about the water. I’m keeping the children back because it’s quite fast.”

She set Edison down in the gravel on his cushioned bottom and bent over to view William.