She bit down on her lip, trying to figure out how to explain the miracle of computers and television, stereos and microwaves, washing machines and indoor plumbing, blow dryers and toothbrushes and toilet paper, and all the other things that she had taken for granted and dearly missed.
Alejandro stared at Shaye in bemused bewilderment. It was obvious she believed what she was saying. And he was beginning to. Was she crazy, he wondered, or was he?
Addy Mae sashayed up to their table. “Good morning, Rio. What’ll you have?”
“Same as usual, darlin’.”
Addy Mae smiled at him, then looked at Shaye. “And you?”
“Just coffee. And a muffin.”
Addy Mae laid a hand on Alejandro’s shoulder. “I heard about the accident at the mine. I’m sorry about Moose. I know he was a friend of yours.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Addy Mae squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll bring your coffee.”
Alejandro leaned back in his chair. “The funeral’s tomorrow morning.”
Shaye nodded, wondering where they would hold the service, since there was as yet no church in town. There were over sixty saloons in Bodie, and fifteen dens of iniquity, but not one house of worship. Would they use one of the saloons? Or maybe someone’s home. No churches, she mused, but three cemeteries: the people’s cemetery for citizens, the Miners’ Union Plot, and the Free Mason’s cemetery. The Chinese had their own cemetery, too. And then there was Boot Hill, reserved for the less respectable citizens of the town. Moose would most likely be laid to rest in the Miners’ Union Cemetery.
“Where will they hold the service?” she asked.
“Over at the Miners’ Union Hall. Reverend Warrington holds church services there, or sometimes at the Odd Fellows Hall. The Miners’ Hall is a popular place for dances and recitals and the like. The fireman hold a ball there once a year, and the Union has benefits now and then to raise money for the families of men who are killed or injured in the mines.”
“Amazing,” Shaye remarked. “Thousands of people and two preachers, and no church.”
“Hey,” he said, “we’ll have a church soon. The reverend is soliciting subscriptions now.”
Shaye frowned. “If I remember right, you’ll have two.”
“Two?” Alejandro grinned. “Lord have mercy!”
“As I recall, they’ll both be finished in September of next year. The Catholic one will be lost in a fire. But the Methodist one on Green Street is still standing.”
Alejandro shook his head. Either she was telling the truth, or she was far and away the best storyteller he’d ever heard.
Addy Mae brought their order. Shaye sipped her coffee, wondering if the coffee was getting better or if she was just getting used to it.
“So,” Alejandro said, “what are you going to do today?”
“I don’t know. Look for a job, I guess.”
“What kind of job?”
“I thought I’d ask Philo Richardson if he could use me at the newspaper office.”
“You could always get a job dealing cards at the Queen.”
“Me? You’re kidding, right?”
“Why not you?”
“But I hardly know anything about the game.”
“You did all right the other night.”
She felt a flurry of excitement at the thought. She’d had fun the other night.
“Will you help me?”
“Sure. You can deal at my table until you feel comfortable. You can start next week.”
“Will Rojas let me?”
Alejandro grinned at her. “Darlin’, he’ll love having you there. And so will I.”
Chapter Thirteen
Daisy wandered through the house, her heart heavy and aching. She had made a fool of herself with Alejandro, she thought bitterly, but she loved him so much. Why couldn’t he love her in return?
She thought about the woman she had seen in his bed, and felt a sharp pang of jealousy. She had offered herself to Rio when she worked at the Rose, and again when they were partners. She had practically begged him to make love to her, and he had refused. And now there was another woman in his life, in his bed.
She picked up the derringer he had left on the table, traced the initials AV carved in the butt with her fingertip. Why couldn’t he love her?
Tears stung her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. Maybe she should take Fred Syler up on his last offer, sell him her half of the Belle, and go back home. That had always been her dream, to earn enough money to go home in style. But, somewhere along the way, her dream had died and going home no longer held the appeal it once had. How could she face her mother, look her father in the eye? Her parents were decent, church-going people. They would never be able to understand, never be able to forgive her. She put the derringer back down on the table and went into the bedroom.
Sinking down on the bed, she picked up a flaming red pillow one of the miners had brought her from San Francisco. Clutching it to her breast, she let the tears fall, silently praying that somehow, someday, Rio would love her as much as she loved him. She thought of him constantly, relived every moment they had spent together, every word he had spoken to her, every smile, every touch. She rocked back and forth. She hurt deep down inside, hurt with an ache that would never heal.
He was the real reason she didn’t want to leave town. Even though he didn’t love her, might never love her, he was here. If she went home, she would never see him again.
She wondered what kind of danger he thought she was in, but it didn’t matter.
She couldn’t leave town, not as long as he was here, not as long as there was a chance, however small, that one day he might love her.
Chapter Fourteen
Shaye sat on a hard wooden chair beside Alejandro, her gloved hands folded in her lap, listening as the Reverend Warrington offered comfort to the family and friends of Jacob “Moose” Kenyon.
The coffin, made of pine, rested on a pair of wooden chairs at the front of the hall.
“Was a fine and honorable man,” the Reverend was saying. “A good husband and father, a friend to many in this town. He will be sorely missed…”
Shaye glanced surreptitiously at the family. Mrs. Kenyon was clad in black from head to foot. Two dark-haired boys huddled against her, their faces pale. She held a third, a little fair-haired girl who was about a year old, on her lap. What would they do now, Shaye wondered. Would they stay in Bodie?
She leaned toward Alejandro. “What will happen to his family?”
“They’ll be taken care of,” he replied quietly. “The Miners’ Union will pay for the coffin and the funeral, and he’ll be buried in their plot.”
She turned her attention to the Reverend once more.
“Moose’s favorite scripture was the Twenty-Third Psalm. Will you say it with me now? The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me, Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever….Amen.
“Yes, our brother Moose walked through the valley of the shadow of death, and this day resides with our God in paradise. Let us pray.”
Shaye stood beside Alejandro while he offered his condolences to the widow. She felt a surge of tenderness when she saw him slip several greenbacks into the woman’s hand, saw the tears of gratitude in the woman’s eyes.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Alejandro said. “Anything at all.” He smiled down at the boys. Shaye was certain the oldest couldn’t be more than six or seven. “You two take good care of your ma now, you hear? And your little sister, too.”
The boys both nodded solemnly. They looked older already, Shaye thought, as if the weight of responsibility was already settl
ing on their shoulders.
“It’s so sad,” Shaye remarked as she watched six men load the casket into the back of a black, glass-sided hearse drawn by a pair of black horses. She wondered, fleetingly, if it could be the same conveyance she had seen in the Bodie museum. “What will she do now?”
Alejandro took her hand as they walked toward the hotel. “She has family back in Philadelphia. They’ll take her in.”
Shaye nodded. Even with family to take care of her, it wouldn’t be easy for Moose’s widow, not with three small children to support.
She lifted the hem of her skirts as they crossed the dusty street. For a woman who had worn a dress only when absolutely necessary, she was surprised at how readily she had grown accustomed to wearing the frocks of the period. She was even more surprised to find that she rather liked the long skirts and petticoats, though the corset was something she would never get used to.
Lost in thought, she was startled when Alejandro grabbed her arm and jerked her backward. A moment later, a wagon pulled by a pair of wild-eyed horses thundered past.
She heard someone scream, heard a voice yell, “runaway!”
She was still recovering from the fact that she had almost been trampled by a pair of wild-eyed horses when Alejandro vaulted onto the back of a horse tethered to a hitching rack. With a shout, he wheeled the bay around and lit out after the wagon.
He caught up with the runaway carriage before it reached the end of the street. Open-mouthed, she watched him vault from the back of the horse onto the seat of the wagon, grab the reins, and bring the buckboard to a halt.
“What the hell happened?”
She glanced over her shoulder to see Philo Richardson. “I don’t know,” she replied.
Philo grunted as he shifted his cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other. “Might be a good story there,” he mused.
“If there isn’t, there will be, if I’m any judge of reporters,” Shaye said drily.
Philo laughed good-naturedly. “Spoken like a woman who knows the breed.”
Shaye grinned at him. “You could say that.”
She followed him down the street to where a crowd had gathered around the wagon. “What happened?”
That seemed to be the question on everyone’s mind as Alejandro jumped to the ground, then turned and lifted his arms. “Come on, Bobby Joe.”
Slowly, a curly brown head rose into view. “I…I didn’t mean nothing.”
Alejandro nodded as he lifted the boy to the ground. “You’re damn lucky you didn’t kill anybody. What are you doing driving this wagon, anyway?”
“I was…I was just trying to…”
“Bobby Joe!” A shrill voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd.
A moment later a woman swooped down on Bobby Joe, hugging him tightly. Shaye recognized the woman as the one who had given her a sandwich the night of the cave-in at the mine.
“Are you all right?” the woman asked anxiously.
“I’m fine, Ma,” he said, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“Are you sure?” She hugged him close, then ran her hands over his arms and legs, clucking softly.
“I’m sure, Ma,” Bobby Joe said, wriggling away. “Rio saved me.”
“Well, he won’t be able to save you when I get you home, young man!” the woman said, her worry swiftly turning to anger when she realized her son was out of danger. “Just you wait until your father hears about this.” She looked at Alejandro. “Thank you, Rio.”
“Hell, Jilly, it could be worse,” Alejandro said, grinning. “He could be twins.”
“Sometimes I think he is,” Jilly declared. “That boy is gonna be the death of me yet. Do you know what he did last week? He set off a firecracker in the chicken coop. The hens still aren’t laying. And the week before that, he near burned down the outhouse. Right after he decided to swing from the clothesline. One whole load of my clean wash landed in the dirt.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with him.”
Alejandro ruffled the boy’s hair, then pulled a silver dollar out of his pocket and held it before the boy’s eyes. “You see this, Bobby Joe? If you behave yourself for one whole month, this is yours.”
“A whole dollar? For me?”
Alejandro nodded. “Is it a deal?”
“Yessir!”
Jilly fixed Alejandro with a stern look. “I don’t hold with blackmail, Rio.”
“It’s not blackmail,” he replied with a grin. “More like a bribe. Remember now, Bobby Joe,” he said, lifting the boy onto the wagon seat. “One whole month.”
Bobby Joe nodded vigorously as he scooted over to make room for his mother.
“Remember now, don’t be too hard on him, Miss Jilly,” Alejandro said. Offering her his hand, he helped her into the wagon. “I got into a pile of mischief when I was a boy, and look how well I turned out.”
Jilly looked down at him, her lips curled in a wry grin; then, with a shake of her head, she took up the reins and clucked to the team.
Shaye moved up beside Alejandro. “My hero,” she murmured.
He pulled her up against him, his expression intense. “And don’t you forget it.”
He looked thoughtful as they walked back to the hotel.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I was just thinking about what you said earlier.”
“About you being my hero?”
“No, about you coming here from the future.” He shook his head. “I’ve given it a lot of thought. Hell, it’s hard to believe.”
“Tell me about it!” she exclaimed. “But it’s true, whether you believe it or not.”
He spent the rest of the day teaching her the finer points of playing poker and when she had the rules down pat, he taught her what to look for if she thought someone was cheating. There were all manner of tricks and gadgets dishonest gamblers used, and Alejandro seemed to know them all. She was aware of some of them, like marking a deck, or dealing off the bottom, or having a shill at the table. He told her that one method was for a bag to be fastened under the table; it was used for drawing or hiding cards. There were also several kinds of mirrors that enabled a player to see the cards held by the other players. A handy little gadget was called a ring holdout that made it possible to palm a card. A ring shiner was a ring with a highly polished surface that allowed a dealer to see each card as he dealt it. A sleeve holdout was worn under a coat sleeve and held one or more cards which, when the player held his arm close to his body, triggered a mechanism that shot forward, allowing him to palm the cards. A similar item, called a vest holdout, could hold an entire deck.
“There are a lot of games,” Alejandro told her. “Faro, roulette, casino, red dog, craps, fantan, three-card monte, black jack, but there’s nothing like a good honest game of draw poker.”
“Are there a lot of cheats?”
He shrugged. “I reckon, though I haven’t run across many at the Queen. It’s known as an honest house, with honest dealers. You have to watch out for some of the other saloons. The Number Nine is the worst. They’re notorious for using advantage cards.”
“What are they?”
“Marked cards. You can buy them from Cross and Company in New Orleans, or from E. M. Grandine in New York. You see them advertised in the papers. A dollar a pack, or a dozen for ten bucks. They have complicated patterns on the backs, like stars or calico or vines, so the markings on them are hard to detect, especially if you aren’t looking for them. Of course, you can always use an honest deck and mark the cards yourself, or notch a corner.”
Shaye shook her head, amazed at the ingenuity of the gadgets he had described, at the lengths men would go to cheat at a game of cards.
“A lot of men think faro is the only honest game,” Alejandro remarked, “but even faro can be rigged.” He looked at her and grinned. “I think that’s enough for today. It’s getting late. What say we go out and get a bite to eat?”
Shaye looked outside, surprised to see that th
e sun was setting. “Sounds good to me.”
* * * * *
He took her to the Excelsior Restaurant on Main Street. He was known to the waitresses here, as well, Shaye noted. They all smiled at him, and of course, he smiled back. He held her chair for her, then took the opposite seat. She couldn’t blame the women for vying for his attention, for noticing his presence. He was all man; surely no woman past puberty could resist him.
One good thing about being with Alejandro, Shaye mused. They always got quick service, hot food, and plenty of it. A waitress appeared at their table almost before they were seated.
“Evening, Rio,” she said, flashing a warm smile. “Steak tonight?”
He nodded. “What’ll you have, Shaye?”
“Steak. Medium-rare, please.”
“So,” Alejandro said after the waitress moved away. “Do you want come to the Queen with me tonight?”
“So soon?”
“Why not? You’ve got to start some time.”
“I guess so. I hope that I can… What’s wrong?”
He jerked his chin toward the entrance. “McCrory’s here.”
Shaye looked over her shoulder. A man and a woman stood near the door. The man was of medium height, with sandy brown hair, a cavalry-style moustache, and ice blue eyes. His gaze moved over the room, and then he was striding toward them.
“Did you ever talk to him?” she asked. “About Daisy’s suspicions?”
“No. I was going to take care of that tonight.”
“Valverde, I’ve been looking for you.”
Alejandro pushed his chair back from the table, let his right hand drop into his lap. “What can I do for you, Mr. McCrory?”
“I had me a little talk with Daisy last night.”
“Is that so?”
McCrory nodded. “I don’t know what she told you, but mind your own business.”
“Daisy is my business.”
McCrory planted his fists on the table and glared at Alejandro. “Not anymore.”
Shaye glanced around the room. Except for the diners at the nearby tables, no one was paying them any attention. “I think we’d better take this outside.” Alejandro stood up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Tell Monica to keep my steak warm.”
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