“Am I remembering correctly that she and her husband are buried in the town cemetery?” Jillian asked. “Somehow that fact just floated to the front of my brain.”
“You are correct,” Marilyn said. “Their daughter Decorah was laid to rest there as well.”
Tisha sighed. “Well, I’m staring at this fancy writing, and it reminds me of trying to read a copy of the Declaration of Independence in my history book. It’s a little too fancy and slanty and loopy. What is she saying?”
Nolan leaned in and began to read.
“October 23, 1894. This is the end. Clifford, I hope you’re pleased with what you wrought for those miners in Denver we don’t even know. I doubt you’re even getting proper credit for any good you might have accomplished, but I can’t say you have much to show for yourself here. If I know you, your donation was anonymous. Our name on the building here? A perpetual embarrassment if you ask me. What were you thinking hiring that stone mason? That it would please me? Well, it doesn’t. What were you thinking in any of this? If we were as compromised as you claimed, why dispense funds to an engraver?
The money’s gone, and now the girls are gone. You’ve made sure I’m left in misery. So I’m making sure no one will ever write in this silly book again. G. B.”
“She was one bitter lady,” Tisha murmured.
Nolan nodded. Georgina. And Decorah. And Darlene. And Ora. And Peggy. And Brittany. All of them.
“Kind of sounds like my mom,” Tisha whispered.
Nolan squeezed her shoulder.
“I’m not sure I want people to know I’m related to that.”
“That’s not you,” Nolan said. “That’s six generations back. People know that.”
“Still, they can connect the dots.” Tisha peered at Marilyn. “Why would you display something like that? It’s not flattering to Canyon Mines. It’s trash ugly.”
“It’s still a piece of our town history,” Marilyn said. “It’s one of the oldest things we have in the museum, and it was found in a unique way, preserved in a remarkable manner through the decades.”
“Can I take a picture?”
“Of course.”
Tisha aimed her phone’s camera and snapped a couple of shots. “I may never look at them again, but at least I’ll have the photos. Clifford must have done something really generous in Denver, but Georgina sure didn’t like it.”
“Thank you, Marilyn,” Nolan said.
Nolan, Jillian, and Tisha stepped out into the sunlight again.
“Motherlode Books carries a small booklet about the history of the Brandt Building,” Nolan said. “Why don’t we go by and pick up a copy?”
They wound their way back toward the Brandt Building. Tisha paused outside and raised her fingers to trace over the engraved name.
“This made Georgina so mad,” she said. “After everything I found out about Decorah Brandt and her mother, I still don’t understand what the big deal is about being Brandts. Whatever that Clifford dude did in Denver didn’t count for much here.”
“The building was in the family for nearly forty years before the Depression,” Nolan said. “A lot of people lost their businesses in the Depression. They wouldn’t have been the only ones.”
“I guess. But if Decorah only married to save the store to begin with, was it worth it—just to claim being a Brandt?”
Inside the bookstore, off to one side, a loud sneeze greeted them, and they all looked to see the tight cluster. Joanna Maddon sneezed a second time and then a third. Stephanos, who owned the building and the bookstore, shook his head in disbelief as she knelt and buried her head in the coat of a Great Pyrenees that looked like it was part Labrador—with maybe some mastiff mixed in.
Jillian laughed. “Where in the world did she find such a creature?”
“He’s adorable,” Tisha said.
Joanna sneezed, stood, and handed a leash to Dave Rossi. “His name is Wriggly. He likes to snuggle, and he’ll keep wriggling until he feels just right in your lap. He’s the best.”
Four-year-old Nadia’s eyes were enormous. “Grandpa Rossi, is this really going to be our puppy?”
“Yes, sweetheart, I’ve found my puppy.”
Nolan chuckled. “He’ll be big as half a horse when he’s grown, but he’ll be everything a little girl could ask for.”
“How come I never had a puppy?” Jillian asked.
“You never asked for one.”
“Daddy, can I have a puppy?”
“No.”
Clark Addison looked over, saw them, and rolled his eyes.
Nolan leaned his head toward Jillian. “I guess I won’t have to worry about following up on that particular family mediation.” Maybe something he’d said had mattered after all.
Joanna sneezed. Three times.
Her eyes were puppy-dog sad at the prospect of surrendering the animal. If she was going to try again with a puppy, she would have to ask Stephanos’s permission, look for a hypoallergenic breed, find something far smaller, and come up with a better plan for housebreaking it.
“At least the truth is out,” Nolan said. “Nobody has to dance around the question of being a snitch, and Jo can get back to work and enjoy her new apartment all on the up-and-up.”
“Were the apartments always there?” Tisha asked.
“Let’s find the booklet and see what it says.”
Stephanos sold Nolan a copy, and he handed it to Tisha, who opened it to flip through it as they walked up Main Street toward home.
“Tisha, what are you up to this afternoon?” Nolan asked.
“The Maclovia case.” She popped a fresh piece of gum in her mouth and turned a page in the booklet.
“Maclovia case?”
“Tisha is on the hunt for a missing twin,” Jillian said. “One of the St. Louis files.”
Tisha tapped the booklet. “This shows where the graves are in the cemetery.”
“Hang on to it,” Nolan said. “The cemetery is a big place. That will come in handy.”
“Wait a minute.” Tisha’s steps stopped. “According to this, Clifford died in 1893.”
“Yes?”
Tisha pulled out her phone and scrolled for a photo. “The diary page in the museum is dated October 1894. Georgina was writing more than a year after he died. She says, ‘This is the end’ and ‘The money is gone and the girls are gone.’ What girls? Decorah didn’t go anywhere. I knew there was more to the story.”
“More daughters?” Jillian said. “Doesn’t the booklet say?”
Tisha flipped pages. “Nope. It’s mostly about the building. Who owned it first. Then the Brandts took over the mercantile in 1893. Georgina and Decorah ran it after Clifford’s death. Then it was closed for a while in the 1930s. Ever since then it’s been various businesses. The library for a while after a flood. A furniture store. A yarn and fabric store. Even a pet store. Then it became Motherlode Books in 1997. It’s still called the Brandt Building because Clifford put his name on it.” She threw her head back and laughed. “And made his wife mad. That’s hilarious.”
“Mm,” Jillian said. “I’ll have to see what I can dig up when I get a chance.”
“I can ask my grandma Ora if she knows.”
Back at the house, they entered through the kitchen. Tisha headed straight for the dining room.
“I’m going to turn on the laptop. I have some questions for you on the Maclovia case.”
“I’ll be right in,” Jillian said. “Just want to check my email.”
Nolan wagged one eyebrow at his daughter and drew in a deep, satisfied breath.
“What?” Jillian said.
“Four days ago you were ready to throw in the towel with her. Now she has the ‘Maclovia case.’ ”
“Turns out the child knows how to read.”
A text chimed into Jillian’s phone, and she extracted it from her shorts pocket. “Drew. Min’s daughter is coming for a few days at the ranch. He says he can be here midday tomorrow and stay a night or two.
You don’t mind, do you, Dad? If he comes again?”
“Will I get to cook with him?”
“The two of you can make me an exquisite dinner on Sunday. How’s that?”
“Text the man back. Tell him to bring his own chef’s hat.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Canyon Mines, Colorado
Monday, September 25, 1893
Outside the store, Clifford inhaled the nippy fall mountain air. The day would warm as the hours progressed. In some years snow might blow through the Colorado mountains in late September, but the threat was not serious. Even a month from now storms were likely to be fleeting. After that Georgina and the girls might face the adjustments that came with living in a small mountain town rather than Denver, which was at a lower elevation during the winter.
There was still time.
Georgina would come around to the charms of Canyon Mines and the possibilities of the house here once they began turning enough profit for her to have funds to work with and put her own touch on it.
An arm slipped around Clifford’s elbow, and he glanced at Missouri.
“A beautiful day, Papa,” she said. “I’m so glad our store has such a happy view.”
“I am as well.”
“If the train was on time, Loren should be here soon with the wagon and the new stock.”
Clifford nodded. “He has a good head for business, your young man.” Missouri and Loren clearly were headed for the altar. Canyon Mines had a beautiful church just a couple of blocks over. Perhaps they would take their vows there.
Missy smiled. “I’m glad you approve of him.”
“Your mother will too.”
“Will she?”
“Give her time. She’s had a lot to adjust to.”
“She won’t come near the store. She won’t speak to Loren. She barely speaks to you.”
Clifford winced. “I’m working on that last bit. Then the rest will come. The store is already proving its potential. Customers are curious about our changes, and we’re getting steady traffic. As long as we carry the basics, people will need us. I hope we can create an event where your mother can show off her knowledge of textiles and style to the women of Canyon Mines.”
Behind them, the shop’s door opened.
“Are you coming back in?” Decorah asked.
“Of course.” Clifford turned. “Just about time to open, after all.”
“Mama says she doesn’t know why we bother,” Corah said. “This place will never compare properly to McNamara’s.”
“Why should it compare to McNamara’s?” Irritation rattled through Missy’s voice. “We’re open with our name on the sign, and McNamara’s is closed, and if it reopens it will have another name.”
Corah huffed. “How long are you going to need me? Mama says she doesn’t understand why I can’t help her more at home.”
“Mama knows good and well Loren is bringing a wagon of new stock from the train.” Missy threw a glare in her sister’s direction. “We all need to work together to get everything priced and on the shelves as fast as we can.”
“What’s the point? Mama says we’re just going to lose our shirt in this wilderness and you’ll ruin your life with that miner.”
“Decorah!” Missouri’s tone slashed with a razor’s edge.
“Please, girls,” Clifford said. “This is a place of business, and while we’re here we will put on a united front to our customers. Is that understood?”
They nodded, not meeting his eyes—nor each other’s.
“I’m going to turn the sign to OPEN. Decorah, you’ll work the counter. When Loren gets here, the rest of us will work on stocking, and you can call for help when you need it.”
“Yes, Papa,” Corah muttered.
He drew in a long, slow breath and eased it out as the three of them walked into the store and Corah echoed everything Georgina said. Missouri was not the only one for whom this habit was wearying. He had to figure out how to reach Georgina and make her happy again—without returning to Denver and bankruptcy. The house was gone. Lack of means remained an obstacle for most people. Even if he wanted to sell the store and house and return to the city, finding buyers would be difficult with cash still in short supply. Nothing was substantially different than it had been two months ago, except the Brandts were not on the edge of bankruptcy.
It wasn’t long before townspeople began trickling in for flour, rice, potatoes, coffee beans, soap, butter, ribbons, rope. Clifford shifted items around to make room for the fresh fruit, bolts of cloth, buttons, collars, and small rugs he expected Loren to arrive with. When Loren pulled the wagon around back, he and Clifford sifted through what they would put on the store floor immediately and what they would heft up to the second-floor storage space for the time being. Decorah was more than happy to be released when their task was finished. The hours of the day passed swiftly in busyness until Lity’s cheery voice rang through the door after school.
“I stopped by the post office for the mail,” Lity said. “It’s so tiny and adorable. Not at all like going to the post office in Denver. Did you know the post office used to be here in our store?”
Clifford smiled. Some days it seemed like Lity saved up all her words until she got out of school, and then the logjam broke. “I did know. They only moved it out about eighteen months ago.”
“Maybe they’ll move it back!” Her dark eyes widened. “That was before everything, right? Canyon Mines has fewer people now. Do they really need a separate post office? Wouldn’t it be fun to have the post office here again?”
“Did we have any mail?” He held out a hand.
Her face turned serious as she handed him two envelopes. “These look like invoices.” Then she brightened. “But I got a letter from Kittie.”
“That’s nice. You must miss her.”
“She’s only in Denver, not New York. I’ll see her again. And I’ve made new friends.”
Lity, the adventurous, resilient daughter.
“Can I work today, Papa?”
“Have you got studies you need to complete?”
She scowled. “Can’t I do that later?”
Clifford put a hand on her shoulder. “You know your mother’s policy. Studies first. How about I walk you home?” He wanted to check on Georgina anyway. Even when Decorah was at home, Georgie spent too much time alone and largely idle.
Lity chattered for the few minutes it took to walk home and then disappeared with her books to the room she and Missouri shared. Neither of them could abide the thought of sharing with Corah, so how the sisters would double up in a smaller house had been an easy choice. Georgina sat in the parlor with a volume in her lap. It was a pose. She’d been reading the same book in the same chair every afternoon for weeks. Clifford steeled himself for today’s barbs.
He kissed her cheek. At least she did not recoil from that gesture even if she had no generous words to offer him anymore.
“Corah tells me you are spending our money on stock for that store you’re playing with.” Georgina turned a page without looking up.
“Georgie, I’ve told you many times, we were certain to lose the house in Denver. There was no position for me there that would have sustained us in that location. I did the best I could for the family.”
“And I’ve told you many times that would be a more believable explanation if you had been making more credible choices with the money we did have.”
“You should see the store now, Georgina. It’s cleaned up well. People like it. They would like it even more if you were there. I’m certain of it. You could handle ordering all the textiles. Perhaps give a lecture on decorating.”
For a moment she tilted her head. Then she hardened again. “Are you going back to that place?”
“Loren and Missy have it well in hand. I thought I might go for a ride and a constitutional before supper.”
“You’ll ruin your boots.”
Clifford left quietly. Georgina found fault in every decision he made,
down to where he left the sugar bowl when he offered to make her a cup of tea. An hour or two of physical exertion would do him good. He had plenty of time to be back for supper. Here in the mountains it had proven more practical to keep and feed both horses after all. They were surefooted beasts that transitioned well from a carriage to a wagon to transport supplies from the train depot to the shop but also make deliveries to some of the outlying areas, an extra incentive for customers to purchase from the mercantile. That service had created a small and growing line of revenue.
The horse took the path from Canyon Mines westward in familiar rhythm, having known it for years on excursions from Denver. When he was ready to exert himself, Clifford tied the animal to a tree and mentally planned a hike that might take him forty-five minutes or so, leaving him sufficient time to descend to town and clean up for the evening meal. The Missouri Rise was within reach on foot with a bit of ambition. With a little extra huffing, which he was willing to muster, he could manage. Already the path others had used in the past was growing over with the rhythms of spring, summer, and early fall with the cessation of mining activity on the mountain, but he knew the way. Whether on horseback or foot, the landmarks were there, and Clifford found the clearing. Until now, since arriving in Canyon Mines to keep shop, he hadn’t allowed himself to think of anything else. If the shop did not succeed, all else was of no consequence. Fidelity pestered him about the Fidelity Wink at least once a week. For her it was curiosity, but eventually the family conversation would come around to what Clifford intended to do with the mines. The others were farther out, but the Missouri Rise was a reasonable trek at this point in the day.
The sign was still there, only three months after the visit when he shut down the operation and threw his men out of work, along with the last cars of ore the crew had brought up. Thieves did not even bother with it. Cliff had no reason to go to the Missouri Rise now other than wistful remembrance of better times, not just for himself but for all those men in Denver. Perhaps he could at least give this mine to Loren and Missouri—a wedding present. Likely it would be years before they would know if the silver market would recover enough to open it again or to save enough money to explore the mine for other minerals, as some mine owners were considering in their properties. Cliff doubted there was gold, but there might be copper, lead, or zinc manganese. No matter what, it would take more capital to operate a mine than either he or Loren had now. Mortgaging the store or house, which were both free and clear in the trade, was out of the question. Clifford wouldn’t take that risk again. But sometime in the future Loren might make a go of it. If Loren was a successful mine owner, Georgina might accept him, and he would give Missouri the life Georgina believed her daughter deserved.
What You Said to Me Page 20