Chapter 8
As predicted, in exactly three days, Archer Field sent word the deed had been transferred to Rose’s name. She was to stop by his office to pick it up, plus receive further information and instructions. Her mother used to say, “There’s many a slip twixt the cup and the lip,” so she tried to remain calm, yet her mind raced with all that she had to do. Today, in honor of the occasion, she’d take the buggy. In the stable, Raymond helped her hitch it up. “So you’re going to get the deed today?” he asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“Ma and Pa won’t like it.”
She laughed. “Not one little bit, Raymond, but don’t you worry. Everything will be all right.”
Would it? Driving into town, she contemplated the rift in the family she’d caused and again asked herself if she was doing the right thing. Stop! Right or wrong, she’d made her decision and there was no turning back. When she got to town, she first stopped at the dressmaker’s. Yes, at last her dresses were ready. She’d ordered three: a full-skirted, blue silk taffeta trimmed with matching velvet ribbon; a deep ruby gown of patterned cotton with double-puffed sleeves and a full, three-flounce skirt that made her waist look incredibly small; a sensible, high-necked, brown wool bombazine for when she wanted to look serious.
She couldn’t get out of the faded blue gingham fast enough. Trying each gown on in a full-length mirror, she tossed modesty to the winds, turning this way and that, unable to get enough of herself. What a difference! Funny what a new gown and bonnet did for her wounded spirits. She decided to wear the blue silk taffeta, with the matching silk bonnet, telling the dressmaker to please remove the faded gingham from her sight, and may she never see it again. Brimming with confidence, knowing she looked her very best, she proceeded to Mr. Field’s office. He greeted her cordially, and in his stuffy way remarked, “You look absolutely splendid today, Mrs. Peterson.” He gave her the deed and advised her to go immediately to Wells Fargo where he’d set up her account.
At the bank, she signed the required papers, discovering her account held nearly twenty thousand dollars, half the money that Emmet left and far more than she expected. Ben and Coralee would receive the same amount, and with the farm thrown in, how could they complain? For the first time in her life, she ordered checks of her own. A warm glow flowed through her as she left Wells Fargo. So far, the day had gone wonderfully well, a sure sign her luck would continue. Next stop, her very own hotel. Today was the day she was going to take over.
Rose swept through the lobby entrance of the River Queen with her head held high. Howie Sanders, the desk clerk whom she remembered as being a bit obsequious, was the first to spot her. Hand outstretched, he came around the counter to greet her. “Mrs. Peterson, good to see you. Is there something I can help you with?”
She shook his hand. “There certainly is, Howie. I’ve come to take over the running of my hotel, and you can be a big help.”
“Take over?”
“That’s right.” With a purposeful lift of her chin, Rose continued, “Since I now own the hotel, I intend to personally be in charge. First off, I’d like to see my husband’s office. I intend to move in there myself.”
The little man’s lips parted in surprise “Uh, well, now… I don’t know as how… It, uh, might already be occupied, seeing as how Mr. Peterson is dead and all.”
She’d prepared herself for minor problems such as this. “Let’s not worry about it. Just show me Emmet’s office.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Leading the way, the desk clerk guided her through the gambling hall. In the early afternoon, the huge room wasn’t as crowded as the other night. Even so, gamblers crowded around every table and filled almost every stool at the bar. Not a woman in sight. Probably those painted ladies slept very late. Heads turned as she passed by, but she ignored all the stares and kept going.
“Watch your skirt,” Howie warned.
Indeed she would. The tobacco-stained floor and discolored spittoons were utterly disgusting. She would soon be making many changes, and that included a quick removal of the spittoons and also those nude, disgraceful pictures hanging behind the bar.
At the back, they passed through an archway and down a short hallway to a closed door at the end. Howie knocked, opened the door, and poked his head in. “Mr. Grunion? Someone to see you.” He turned to Rose. “I’d best get back. Go right in.”
Entering the office, she found Jake Grunion sitting behind a large desk. Raising his eyes, he saw who it was and frowned. He caught himself immediately and leisurely arose to greet her with a smile that held no warmth. “Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Peterson.” He waved at a chair on the other side of the desk. “Have a seat. What a pleasure you’ve come to visit us again.”
Ignoring the obvious insincerity in his voice, she sat and looked him in the eye. “It’s more than a visit. This was my husband’s office?”
He nodded warily.
Obviously Jake had moved in. She would be as tactful as possible. “I’m sorry, Mr. Grunion, but I shall want it back. As of today, the River Queen is officially mine, so I’ll be in charge from now on.” Seeing his slight flinch of surprise, she quickly added, “Oh, there’s no hurry. And of course you’re still the manager. If Emmet trusted you and thought you were doing a good job, then I do, too. First off, I’d like to examine the books. Are they handy?”
She’d expected he wouldn’t be overjoyed at her announcement but wasn’t prepared for the way his jaw dropped open in surprise. “You?” He was blinking his eyes as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.
“Yes, me, Mr. Grunion. I don’t know if my husband ever mentioned it, but back in Cairo, Illinois, I helped run my family’s hotel, so I’m quite experienced in such endeavors.”
He returned a nasty laugh. “You might think you’re experienced, but running a hotel in Illinois is a far cry from running a hotel in a Gold Rush town like Sacramento.”
His remark caused her heart to sink, but he mustn’t know. “Regardless of all that, I am here to run the hotel and I wish to see the books.”
A look of contempt filled his eyes. “The books are not handy, Mrs. Peterson. Maybe you mean well, but I’ve gotta tell you, running a hotel like this is no job for a woman.”
She remembered what Deke had told her. “Fanny Wentworth owns the Silver Star, does she not?”
“Fanny Wentworth is a whore who made good. She packs a revolver, a bowie knife, and gets drunk every night. Is that what you’re planning?”
“Of course not. I…” Jake’s response had so startled her, she couldn’t think what to say.
“Good Lord.” Jake rolled his eyes, as if he could hardly believe what he was hearing. “Look, Mrs. Peterson, a nice lady like you is way out of her element here. Those men you see in the gambling hall don’t give a damn about good manners. They come here to gamble, drink whiskey, and pay for the services of a woman, which the River Queen gladly provides. They get a little whiskey in ’em, the least thing sets ’em off and we’ve got a fight on our hands, at least one or two every night, sometimes more. With luck, they use their fists. Otherwise, they pull out their pistols and bullets fly. The week doesn’t go by we don’t carry some poor sod feet-first out the door, shot dead by some idiot who thinks he was insulted or got cheated. Do you think you can handle that? You, with your good manners and your fancy bonnet?” His lip curled in a sneer. “I don’t think so. My best advice to you is go home and make yourself a cup of tea. Do your embroidery. You don’t belong here.”
Jake didn’t wait for her answer. Instead, he got up and walked out of the office, leaving her so dumbfounded she had to breathe deep and sit quietly until her heart slowed down. She should have known better. Obviously, Jake had been running the place since Emmet died and had planned to continue. How foolish to assume a crude man like that would give up his position without so much as a murmur. And what about the books? He’d downright flinched when she asked to see them. Something funny going on there.
She would not give up. She’d deal with Jake later, although what exactly she’d do, she had no idea. But for now, she would check out that awful excuse for a restaurant. Surely she’d have better luck there.
The restaurant was worse than she remembered. No tablecloths, just long tables and benches of rough wood. Walking in, she caught sight of a bearded old miner spitting a wad of tobacco directly onto the sawdust-covered floor. Such repulsive behavior would soon stop, she’d see to that. When she asked to see the head chef, a hefty, balding man came out of the kitchen wiping his hands on the stained white apron that covered his huge belly. He said his name was Gus Hurdlicka, and yes, he ran the restaurant. When she introduced herself and asked to see the kitchen, he squinted and asked, “Why?”
She further explained her reason for being there. “And I’ll be looking to make some improvements in your restaurant, Mr. Hurdlicka.”
The chef’s face turned red. A vein twitched in his fat jaw. “What changes are you talking about, lady?”
“Well, I…” She certainly hadn’t meant to make him angry and must be more tactful. “For one thing, I’d like to see your menu with the thought that I might expand it and—”
“We don’t have a menu. For breakfast I give ’em scrambled eggs, beans, and biscuits. For lunch I put out cold cuts and let ’em serve themselves. For dinner I make beef stew. Along with sourdough bread, that’s enough.” He crossed his arms and glared at her. “The customers aren’t complaining, so what more do you want?”
“I…uh…” This was not turning out as she had thought. Best to change the subject. “May I see the kitchen?”
Gus replied with a grunt and led her to the back of the restaurant and into the kitchen where two young men who appeared to be Chinese stood at a long table chopping vegetables. An awful smell slammed her nostrils, a combination of rancid fat, spoiled meat, and rotting vegetables. She couldn’t help wrinkling her nose. “That’s a rather bad smell.”
He shrugged. “I’m used to it, and those chinks don’t care. If they complained, they’d be out on their butts and no back pay.”
She ignored his rude language and walked around the kitchen. Horrible! Dirty counters, dirty floor. Grease and grime everywhere. The stoves looked as if they hadn’t been cleaned in years, if ever. She ran a finger over one of the stovetops, held it up, and regarded her greasy black fingertip. Ugh. Silently, she arched an eyebrow in disapproval. When she finished her tour of the kitchen, she chose her words carefully. “Well, Mr. Hurdlicka, I see room for improvement here. If I may point out—”
“Get out of my kitchen!” Gus Hurdlicka’s eyes bulged. By now, his face was so red he appeared to be on the verge of apoplexy.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Out!” He pointed a shaking finger toward the door.
There was nothing to do but go, and quickly. “Good day, Mr. Hurdlicka. We’ll talk later.” It was all she could do to maintain her dignity, walk slowly, head high as she made her way from the restaurant. Back in the gambling hall, she was heading for the entrance when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She instantly knew who it was from the overpowering reek of perfume. Turning, she found the painted woman she’d met the other night.
“Remember me?” the woman said. “Tillie LaTour?”
After the debacle of a meeting with the cook, Rose could hardly think straight. She desperately wanted to get out of there, but good manners required she nod pleasantly. “Of course, I remember you.”
Tillie cocked her head and regarded her boldly. “I hear you’re gonna make some changes.”
Apparently that little weasel of a desk clerk had wasted no time spreading the word. “Why yes, as the new owner, I intend to change quite a few things around here.” That had been her plan, anyway. Now she wasn’t so sure.
“What about the girls on the third floor? You know, the hostesses.”
Please, no more conflicts. After what she’d been through, she wasn’t sure she could stand much more. All she wanted was to get out the door and breathe some fresh air. This woman deserved an answer, though, and she’d have to be honest. “Miss LaTour, you know and I know those girls are more than hostesses. I’ll be honest. I own this hotel now, and I won’t put up with what I consider sinful activities. Therefore, I’m afraid you and your, uh, ladies will have to go.” She hoped the poor woman wouldn’t be too upset but had felt compelled to give a truthful answer.
Tillie threw back her head and burst into laughter. “Are you joking?”
“Certainly not.”
“Honey, you’ve got a lot to learn. Pigs will fly before the River Queen gets rid of its harlots.”
They were standing next to a faro table surrounded by gamblers. A quick glance informed her they’d stopped the game and were listening to every word of their conversation. One of the gamblers spoke up. “Hey, lady, you can’t get rid of the whores. The River Queen would shut down if you did. What d’ya say, boys?”
Rose inwardly cringed as everyone at the table laughed and hooted. Her cheeks burned. Never had she been so intensely humiliated. She murmured a quick “I must go,” turned, and fled as fast as she could go without actually running, out the door of the River Queen and into the bustling street outside. When she reached her horse and buggy, she grabbed Star’s halter, buried her head in Star’s silky mane and whispered, “You wouldn’t believe how I’ve made a complete fool of myself.” How could she possibly have thought she could run a hotel that catered to just about every sin she’d ever heard of?
“Rose?”
It was Mason Talbot’s voice. She breathed deep and turned to face him. He was dressed elegantly as always, sporting a top hat and cane. She put what she hoped was a smile on her face. “Hello, Mason.”
He frowned with concern. “Is anything wrong? You look distressed.”
“It’s nothing.” The words no sooner left her mouth than she changed her mind. Who better to talk to than this man who always seemed so wise, so considerate and understanding? “Oh, Mason, I never felt so humiliated, so…” Fighting back tears, she clamped her lips shut and looked toward the sky. She was absolutely not going to cry in front of him. “I did not have a very good day.”
He took her elbow. “Come with me. We’ll go for a little ride.”
She didn’t protest and soon sat beside Mason in his carriage. He flicked the reins and drove to a deserted spot overlooking the river. Facing him on the high seat, she told him about Jake Grunion and his hostility; about Gus Hurdlicka, the chef who, thanks to her, almost got apoplexy; about Tillie, the woman of ill repute, who’d laughed in her face; and how, in the end, she’d fled out the door, wanting nothing more than to escape what had been the most mortifying experience of her life. “I thought it would be so easy. Maybe a bit different from running the Birchwood Inn but nothing I couldn’t handle. How wrong could I be?” She bit her lip. “What a disaster. I don’t know what to do.”
“Yes, you do.” Mason drew both her hands into his. “My dear Rose, a beautiful woman like you is meant for better things than running a sordid, downright sinful hotel like the River Queen. I admire you immensely for trying, but at least you’ve found early on it’s too much for you.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I know I’m right. Here’s what we’ll do. As you know, I had offered to buy the River Queen. My offer still stands, and at the same price.”
“That’s…that’s most kind of you.” How generous he was, and how wonderful that he had offered a way out of her predicament. She opened her mouth to accept, but before she could, a sense of loss overcame her. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how much she’d been looking forward to making the River Queen a first class hotel. It had given her a whole new purpose in life, but what a foolish dream. She must be practical. As Mason had wisely pointed out, It’s too much for you.
He must have noticed her slight hesitation. “You don’t have to decide right now. Think about it. We’ll have dinner tomorrow night, and you can tell me then.”
“All right, but after what happened today, you know what my answer will be.” She would look at the bright side. If she sold the hotel, she’d have more time with Lucy. Ben and Coralee would be relieved and happy. Best of all, she’d never have to set foot in the River Queen again. All to the good, of course, but even so, why did she feel so defeated, as if a heavy weight was pressing on her shoulders?
Mason drove her back to her carriage and said goodbye, remarking how much he looked forward to dinner tomorrow night. He would take her to Le Chantecler at his Egyptian Hotel, considered by many to be the best French restaurant in town. She started for home but had not driven far along Front Street when she noticed a large, square structure under construction on the right side of the street. In front, two men had nearly finished painting a sign that read Fleming & Carter’s Ice House. She had nearly passed by when she realized…Fleming? That was Deke’s last name. She pulled to the side and looked closer. “Deke?”
He dropped his paint brush and looked around. “’Pon my word, it’s Rose.”
He started toward her, walking straight and tall. No crutches. “Deke, your cast is gone!”
He reached the carriage and gazed up at her, a big smile lighting his face. “Too right. Got it off yesterday.”
Somehow he’d changed, and it wasn’t just the crutches. The strained frown that had etched his forehead had disappeared, replaced by a look of confidence that hadn’t been there before. She nodded toward the unfinished building. “Is this what you meant by ice?”
“That’s right.” He nodded toward his companion. “That’s my friend, Mitch. We’re building an ice house.”
“But why?”
Her question made him laugh. “Because a cold beer’s a hundred times better than a warm beer. We’ve gone into the ice business. The saloons can’t get enough of it. Already we’ve hauled a load down from the mountains and sold every last chunk of it for ten cents a pound.”
“That’s nice, Deke. I’m happy to see you’ve got a little money coming in.”
Deke’s friend Mitch joined them. A plain man with sandy hair, about the same age as Deke, he stuck out his hand in a friendly fashion and introduced himself. His accent was like Deke’s. “Back home, we were neighbors. Now I’ve got to be nice to him because he saved my life.”
She started to ask how, but before she could, Deke broke in. “Mitch just came from the diggings. He’d had enough.”
“Really?” Surprised, she asked Mitch, “Don’t you want to get rich?”
Deke’s friend chuckled. “It’s a crook deal now. The easy gold’s disappearing. We may not make a fortune selling ice, but we’re better off than those poor sods freezing their arses up at the diggings. Excuse the language. Deke tells me you now own the River Queen.”
She nodded. No sense informing him she was about to sell.
“Then tell that bartender to get rid of that rotgut whiskey.” Mitch clutched his throat and made a gagging sound. “I had a slug the other night and like to died.”
“I shall indeed inform him, Mr. Carter.” And she would have, if she wasn’t going to sell.
“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Peterson.” Mitch tipped his hat and went back to his painting.
Deke took a long moment to look her up and down. “You look good. I see you got yourself a new dress and bonnet. So how’s it going over at the River Queen? Last time we talked, you were about to take over.”
“Not so well.” Saying the words, she almost choked up.
“Oh, say now…” With a lithesome spring, he was beside her in the carriage. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Just as she had with Mason, she related to Deke the terrible day she’d had. “So that’s the end of it. Now I know I was in over my head. Mr. Talbot told me his offer’s still good, so I’m going to sell.”
“Blimey.”
“It’s for the best.”
“For who? Mason Talbot?”
“For me, of course. He’s a kind man, and he’s doing me a favor.”
He laid his hand on her cheek and turned her head directly toward him. “Look me in the eye. Do you really want to sell?”
“After today, I mostly do.”
“What do you mean by ‘mostly’?”
She thought carefully before she answered. “What I mean is, when I learned the hotel was mine, I got this joyful feeling. At last, here was something I could do besides help Coralee in the kitchen. I never even thought twice. I’d done a good job at the Birchwood Inn, so of course I thought I could handle the River Queen. And then today happened and I’m so completely mortified that I…” She heaved a defeated sigh. “What was I thinking? I’m lucky Mason will buy the hotel and get me out of this…‘disaster’ best describes it.”
Deke cocked his head and gave her a long, puzzled stare. “I don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“Why you’re quitting after one day.”
“Because they didn’t respect me. Nobody took me seriously.”
“Will you tell me about it? When you first saw Jake Grunion, what did you say?”
“I told him I now owned the hotel. Then, as tactfully as I could, I informed him I’d be in charge from now on. I said I was sorry but wanted him to move out of Emmet’s old office because I wanted to move in. I was nice as I could be and let him know there wasn’t any hurry. Then I asked politely if I could see the books and couldn’t imagine why he got so angry. Also, I assured him he’d still be manager because if Emmet trusted him then I would, too.” She flung out her hands. “Is there anything wrong with that?”
“Oh, my word.” He seemed to be struggling, as if he could hardly keep from saying something he knew he shouldn’t say. “And I suppose you were ‘nice as you could be’ to Gus, that worthless cook?”
“Of course, Deke. I know my manners.”
“Oh, my word.” For a moment he looked skyward, as if some kind of divine intervention was necessary after what he’d just heard. He let some time go by, as if he had to calm himself before he spoke. “Manners are important to women, bless their hearts. They don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, so they go out of their way to be nice. Men are different, especially when it comes to business. What you didn’t realize is, whoever runs the River Queen lives in a cutthroat world where no one gives a damn about manners and hurt feelings. That’s the way it is, so if you think you’re not tough enough to handle it, then you made a good decision when you said you’d sell.”
“You’re absolutely right, and that’s why I’m selling.” But wait. She didn’t want Deke Fleming to think she wasn’t tough enough, that she was a cowardly quitter. “I don’t understand. What should I have said?”
“To be honest, I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“Out with it. Don’t spare my feelings.”
“Here’s where you went wrong. The River Queen Hotel is not the Birchwood Inn.”
“I know that.”
“No, you don’t. What worked in Illinois isn’t going to work here. This is the Gold Rush. Up at the diggings, men die every day and nobody gives a hoot. All they care about is finding gold to make themselves rich. Here in town, the saloons are out to get every last nugget, every last speck of gold dust from the poor suckers who’ve worked like dogs at the diggings for whatever they’ve got. Greed drives them all. Nobody gives a damn how nice and considerate you are, and that includes that lowlife crook, Jake Grunion. You think he’s going to let you see the books? From what I hear he’s been skimming for years, and who knows what else he’s been up to? What I mean is, you handled him all wrong. You and your good manners don’t mean a thing in Sacramento.”
What a surprise. Since she’d known Deke, he’d always seemed so easygoing. Now he spoke with an intensity she’d never heard before. “Then, if you don’t mind my asking, what does work?”
“You’ve got to think like a man.”
“Well, I’m not a man, I’m a woman.”
A corner of his lip lifted in the slightest of smiles. “You think I’m not aware of that, Mrs. Peterson? What I mean is, you don’t have to be a man, you have to think like one.”
“How do you mean?”
“I’ll show you.” He sprang from the carriage and helped her down. “You’ve got to use your imagination.” He swept an arm over the rubble-covered ground. “This is Emmet’s office. I’m Jake Grunion. I’ve taken over the office and I’m sitting behind his desk over there.” He nodded toward a short stack of lumber lying nearby. “You’ve just knocked on the door.” Deke went to the lumber pile and sat on top. “Come in, Mrs. Peterson. I’m busy. What do you want?”
She wasn’t sure what he was up to, but she’d play along. She pretended to open a door, stepped inside his imaginary office and up to his “desk.” “Good afternoon, Mr. Grunion. I’m sorry to bother you—”
“No! You’re not sorry you bothered me. This is your office and you want it right now. Try again.”
“Very well.” She retreated, then went through the pretend door again. “Good afternoon, Mr. Grunion. I want my office back, and if it isn’t too much trouble, I’d like to take a look at the books.”
“No! Men don’t ask if it’s too much trouble. They don’t say they’re sorry, and they don’t apologize. Try again.”
She went through the routine again, and again was informed she hadn’t got it right. She tried for the fourth time. “Good afternoon, Mr. Grunion. I want my office back, and I mean right now. The River Queen is mine. If you have any doubts, you can check with Mr. Archer Field, my solicitor. If you’re still not convinced, I shall call the sheriff, show him my deed to the property, and then let him decide. I shall also call the sheriff if those books aren’t on my desk by five o’clock this afternoon.”
Deke clapped his hands. “That’s it. You’ve got the hang of it.”
At last. She delighted in his praise. “Now I see what I should have said. Too bad it’s too late.”
“Is it? Let’s do Gus.”
She agreed and listened to Deke’s advice on how to deal with Gus Hurdlicka. “You handle him same as Jake. The man’s all bluster and no backbone. Don’t ask for the menu. Demand to see the menu. You make it clear who’s boss and he’ll crumble.”
She practiced only once this time, and Deke said she got it right.
Tillie LaTour was another matter. Deke cocked an eyebrow in surprise when Rose described how she’d told Tillie the third-floor ladies had to go. “’Pon my word, are you sure? The River Queen will lose a lot of business if you chase the fancy ladies away.”
A small shadow of doubt crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. “I’ve gone along with this, but does it matter? I haven’t said I wanted to try again. The trouble is, I’m bold and brave when I’m talking to someone friendly like you, but Jake Grunion? If I were to go back, and I’m not saying I would, when he looks at me with those mean little eyes and gets that nasty expression on his face, will I turn and run? I’m not sure.”
“You don’t know until you try.”
Could she do it? Had she acted in haste? Maybe she had. The more she thought about it… Yes! Deke had made her see she’d given up far too soon. And Mason hadn’t helped with his offer of an easy way out. “All right, I’ll try again. I don’t suppose you could…?”
“Could what?”
“Nothing.” She was about to ask if he’d come with her when she went back to the River Queen. How comforting it would be to have a man by her side when she faced Jake Grunion. Not a good idea, though. She had to be strong, and that meant she would rely on no one but herself. “I forgot about Mason. I pretty much told him I’d sell. He’s not going to like that I’ve changed my mind.”
“To hell with him. This is your decision, not his.”
“He’s invited me to dinner tomorrow night. I’ll tell him then.” The weight pressing on her shoulders had disappeared. It was almost as if she could stand straighter, hold her head higher. She could do it! With what she knew now, she wouldn’t make the same mistakes again.
* * * *
After Rose left, Deke stood looking after her as she drove down Front Street. Mitch joined him and gazed after her, too. “Do you like her?” he asked.
“She’s a bonza girl, all right, but she wouldn’t be interested. She just lost her husband.”
“That so? Can’t say she looks much like a grieving widow.”
“She hadn’t seen him for two years.” Deke nodded toward the ice house. “She said she was glad I’d have a little money coming in.”
Mitch chuckled. “You didn’t tell her we’re about to make a fortune?”
“And sound like I’m bragging? Didn’t think it was necessary.” Deke had been tempted, though. The Fleming & Carter Ice House was nearly finished. With its double-thick, charcoal-lined walls it could store up to a thousand tons of ice. Orders were pouring in. Everybody wanted cold beer now. That meant every saloon in town would gladly buy all the ice they could lay their hands on. At ten cents a pound, how could they lose? Unless something went wrong, and he couldn’t think what, they were bound to end up rich. Thank God, the crutches were gone. At least he hadn’t seen any pity in her eyes today, not like before, but so what? She was having dinner with Mason Talbot tomorrow night. He clenched his jaw at the thought of how she might get hurt at the hands of that evil man.