Reclaimed Love: Banished Saga, Book Two (3 page)

As he made his way down the street, he searched for the café. “Excuse me, is this the Chequamegon Café?” he asked a man exiting a single-storied, whitewashed brick building near the Curtis Music Hall. Large front windows faced the street, and the door stood propped open in the warm late summer air, obscuring the name written on it.

“The Chew Quick and Be Gone Again?” the man asked with a smile. “Yes, this be the place. I’d get in and find a seat while you’ve a chance.”

Gabriel nodded his thanks and entered. Four rows of tables for two filled the crowded restaurant. Some of the tables were crammed together for larger parties, causing serpentine aisles throughout. Along the right wall a large mirror reflected the room and the light from the windows overlooking the street. Overhead a tin ceiling gleamed.

He found a small table with a crisp white tablecloth to one side near a window, ordered a meal of fried chicken and potatoes, and watched the patrons come and go.

“You new here?” asked the man sitting next to Gabriel.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, enjoy the food. It’s good and plentiful. It’s why the copper kings come here to eat when they’ve a chance. Though none are here today.”

Gabriel nodded. “What do you do, sir?”

“I’m in construction, currently working on a building on Main Street.”

“Would you know of anyone hiring finish carpenters or cabinetmakers?”

“I’ll be hiring in a few months, but if you want something now, I’d go to the Thornton Block, down Broadway near the McDermott. Ask for Jeffers. If you’ve the skills, he’ll be eager to hire you. Can’t seem to keep able-bodied men healthy on his site.”

“I don’t know as that is a recommendation,” Gabriel said.

“His workers keep injuring themselves in bar brawls.”

“I thank you for the advice,” Gabriel said as the other man paid for his meal and prepared to leave.

“Tell Jeffers that Cassidy sent you.”

“I’m obliged,” Gabriel said with a nod.

“Welcome to Butte, young man.”

***

“HEY, MATTHEW!” Gabriel called out at the Never Dry Saloon on Main Street in Centerville just down from the boardinghouse. The din from conversations among off-duty miners almost eclipsed the sweet music from the fiddle player tooling away in the corner. He was taking requests but only agreed to play songs that he liked. Some patrons tapped their feet on the plank wooden floors.

The tables were three-quarters full, and two bartenders were busy with the patrons crowded along the long oak bar. The majority of the area behind the bar held casks of gin and whiskey stacked nearly to the ceiling. One small area was framed by intricately carved mahogany columns.

Gabriel set aside the paper after reading about two miners who had been blown up past recognition in one of the mines. He shivered as he recalled the frank description of the bits of red-and-blue cloth and body parts found at the scene.

“Hi, Gabe. Didn’t see you there,” Matthew said.

“You look like hell.”

“Oh, I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” Matthew said, his hand shaking so hard beer spilled from his glass as he attempted to take a sip. He quickly wiped away the beer, then swiped at beads of sweat from his forehead. His black hair was rumpled, and, in his agitation, he continually ran his fingers through it. He seemed to have lost weight, his lanky frame now bordering on wiry.

“Matthew, what happened?” Gabriel demanded.

“I had my first underground shift at the Mountain Consolidated Mine today, Gabe,” Matthew murmured. “By God, I tell you, when I stepped onto that cage and realized seven other miners were to be crammed in there with me, I almost begged to get off. Before I had the courage to speak up, the cage jolted into motion, and we were belowground. Then I realized it would be twelve hours until I could get out of there.”

Gabriel quelled a shudder at the thought.

“I knew the ride only lasted a few minutes, but it felt an eternity. The man across from me hadn’t bathed in days and had eaten onions recently. When I finally arrived at my level, I soon understood why the seasoned miners laughed as I got off. My level is known as purgatory, ’cause it’s so hot that we must be at risk of going to hell. And the smells were worse than I could have imagined. You think it stinks aboveground?” Matthew shook his head from side to side. “The stench from the mules, the men not using the piss pots, and all of us crowded together in so tight a place for hours on end. You have no idea what it’s like.

“The light from the candle on my hat did little to illuminate my way, and I stumbled into the wall. I could barely see where my partner wanted me to drill. Somehow I got through the twelve hours, my partner ensuring I didn’t get blown up. But, I tell you, Gabe, I’ve never been more afraid than when we were told to go back to dig out the blown-up ore when we hadn’t heard all the charges go off. I thought for sure I was going to be the one to pick at the pile with the unexploded dynamite. Instead, Tim Daly did.”

Gabriel listened, understanding Matthew’s need to talk.

“Oh, Christ, Gabe. The blood. His screams. And it took forever to get the cage to our level. By the time he left, he was comatose. They don’t think he’ll make it.”

“Jesus,” Gabriel muttered.

“Oh, God, I don’t want to go back down again,” Matthew murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes in despair.

“Then don’t,” Gabriel said.

“This is what I do, Gabe,” Matthew said. “Or what I want to be. A hard-rock miner. I—”

“Hey, Matthew, great job today,” Ronan said as he slapped Matthew on the shoulder and raised his pint to him. “Thought we might lose you as the cage started down, but you did well enough.”

“It was fine,” Matthew said with false bravado.

“I hope Liam treated you well,” Ronan said.

Matthew snorted. “He’s a surly bastard, and I can’t imagine why you’d think he’d be a good partner for me.”

“Well, I don’t know what else you’d expect. He just buried his best friend last week, and, instead of getting a seasoned miner, he’s saddled with you. Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll earn his respect soon enough,” Ronan said. “You’re lucky to be working with him. He has a lot of experience and will teach you what you need to know. Keep your mouth shut and listen, mind.”

Matthew nodded.

“How are things for you, Ronan?” Gabriel asked.

“Fine enough. I’m working on a good drift, so that helps the day go by.”

“A drift?”

“It’s like a side channel from the mine shaft, goes off to one side. You carve them out, looking for the vein,” Ronan explained.

“Don’t you worry about rocks falling on your heads?”

“A duggan,” Matthew murmured.

“A what?” Gabriel asked with a shake of his head.

“Makes you wish you were one of us so you knew what we were talking about, doesn’t it?” Ronan said with a laugh. “A duggan’s what we call a piece of rock that falls on you, and then we have to call Duggan, the undertaker. Only bad things come from falling rock.”

Gabriel shook his head again at the morbid humor.

“Where is this Liam?” Gabriel asked.

“He’s off with his wife and son. He likes to spend as much of his free time with his family as he can, though he does come to the pub for a pint once in a while,” Ronan said.

Gabriel glanced at Matthew, who continued to look into his drink, as though searching for comfort, and then at Ronan with exasperation. Gabriel cocked his head toward Ronan and pointed his chin toward Matthew.

“He’ll be fine,” Ronan murmured. “Happens to all of us the first few times down. And I heard what happened to Tim. Bound to shake anyone up.” Ronan cleared his throat, speaking loudly. “How are you, Gabe?”

“Well enough. I have a lead on steady work that I’ll be looking into tomorrow.”

“Good for you,” Ronan said. “Think of us while you enjoy the daylight every day,” he murmured with another lift of his pint. Gabriel raised his in salute, wishing his friends could find another way to earn a living.

“Any word from your lady, Gabe?” Matthew asked, emerging from his stupor.

“No, nothing.”

“Well, I am sure a letter will arrive any day now. We’ve only been here a little over a week. Can’t imagine letters traveling so fast,” Matthew said.

“I’d keep writing her, Gabe,” Ronan said. “She’s one beautiful-looking woman from that photo in your room. One of us should have a chance with a woman such as her.” He winked at Matthew.

“Her beauty is the least amazing aspect of her. She is intelligent, kind…” He broke off as Ronan and Matthew rolled their eyes and waved their arms about as though conducting music. “If you,
when
you, meet her, you’ll understand,” he said laughing at their antics. He gave Matthew a nudge in his shoulder, enjoying Matthew’s return to good humor.

“What do you think of Butte, Gabriel?” Ronan asked as he looked around the bar full of miners, tapping his fingers absentmindedly to the fiddle player’s music.

“I still think it is the ugliest place I have ever seen. How can people survive in a city with no trees?” Gabriel asked as Ronan shrugged. “And yet, as I walk the city streets, I realize how extraordinary it is. I never thought to see blocks filled with brick buildings, theaters, banks and stores in a city so far from anywhere. And the streetcars. I can’t believe there are electric streetcars here! Or that you made us climb the hill the day we arrived.”

Ronan laughed and slapped Gabriel’s back.

“Have either of you been into Hennessy’s?” Gabriel asked.

Ronan and Matthew shook their heads.

“It’s a beautiful brick building on the corner of Main and Granite with prism glass that causes the sunlight from outside to sparkle and spread inside the first floor. It’s so fancy that I didn’t know if they’d let me in, but I went in anyway. As I entered, I realized it’s a store that sells anything you could imagine wanting. And things you didn’t even know you wanted or needed. They have a Moorish room that made me imagine what a sultan’s room would look like from when I read
The
Arabian Nights
. And the woodwork is extraordinary. The staircase and the displays…” He shook his head in wonder. “It rivals anything I saw in Boston.”

“So are you saying that you are beginning to like it here?” Ronan asked with a hint of a smile.

“Yes,” Gabriel admitted.

“Have you been to a Finnish steam room yet?” Ronan asked as he scratched his thick beard. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his short legs in front of him and crossing his feet at the ankles.

“No, though I haven’t been working so I’ve no real need of one.”

“It’s almost worth living in Finntown just to be able to board at a place where you could get good food and a steam in the price of boarding,” Ronan said. He closed his sherry-colored eyes as though imagining the relaxing heat from the steam rooms.

“But it would be too far from the mine,” Matthew argued.

“Yes, it would, especially in the winter. I’d hate to have to walk any farther in the cold than is necessary,” Ronan said, opening his eyes again. “As for you, Gabriel, you might look for another place to board that’s not so full of miners, and where you can have your own room.”

“I don’t mind sharing with Matthew,” Gabriel said. “I’m used to sharing space with my brother.”

“Well, when that lovely lady of yours comes here, that will have to change,” Matthew said.

“Yes, when she joins me, all will be different,” Gabriel murmured attempting to envision Clarissa living in Butte.

CHAPTER 3

GABRIEL ENTERED THE DOORWAY to the imposing five-story red-bricked building with black wrought-iron balconies that stood diagonally across the street from the McDermott Hotel on Broadway. Hammering, sawing and a good deal of swearing were heard as he walked into the main floor work space. Rough wooden planks covered the floors and clusters of workbenches and carpenters were scattered around the room. Frames for smaller rooms were slowly being raised or created, breaking up the cavernous space. Gabriel asked for the foreman and then scanned the room, searching for him.

“Excuse me,” Gabriel said as he stopped next to the man. The foreman turned toward Gabriel with inquisitive, piercing blue eyes. His rail-thin frame seemed barely strong enough to allow him to stand, and yet he met Gabriel’s look with frank interest.

Gabriel doffed his hat and stood tall as he met the foreman’s eyes. “Hello, sir. My name is Gabriel McLeod, and I am looking for work. A Mr. Cassidy told me that you are the man I should speak with.”

“You don’t sound like an immigrant,” he drawled. “Are you one of them Irish? No, your last name don’t sound right.”

“Of Irish heritage, but from Boston.”

“Hmm … wonder what you’re running from out there,” he said as he spat a wad of chewing tobacco into a nearby spittoon.

Gabriel raised his eyebrows in surprise at the man’s perfect aim. “Nothing, sir. I just dream of a better life. I heard you had work here.”

“Well, there’s plenty of work for those who want it. But I bet there’s more to your story than you’re lettin’ on. Bet you got in a bar brawl and are in trouble with the law.”

“That might be someone else’s tale, but not mine.”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those temperance folks? I can’t be working with one of them.”

“No, sir, I like a pint after a hard day’s work.”

“Hmm … well that’s good. That’s proper.”

“Sir, about this work—”

“You need to be a carpenter. If you want the higher paying work, you should be able to do the finish work. I already have a few who are quite skilled in that but wouldn’t mind a few more to help complete the project on time. Harmless, Hapless Harvey has left us for a spell after breakin’ his hand.” He paused, shaking his head. “Stupid idiot. Getting in a bar brawl about politics. If you’re going to fight, might as well fight over something worthwhile, like a woman.”

Gabriel nodded. “I am a cabinetmaker. I can do whatever finish work you need.”

“La-di-da, a cabinetmaker,” he said with a long, high-pitched whistle. “And can you prove this claim?”

“My work will prove what I say.”

“My name’s Jeffers. Just Jeffers, no
mister
. I come from the South, so some think I’m a bit dim ’cause I talk slow, and I like my bourbon and beer. I wouldn’t make that mistake if I was you.”