Scryer's Gulch

by MeiLin Miranda

  Episode 45: Ace in the Hole

  Annabelle sent the encoded ethergram out to Chief Howman the next afternoon after school, asking for more information. Sending the ethergram via Simon Prake seemed both dangerous and disloyal somehow, but there wasn't any choice.

  "I'm afraid this is going to be a two-dollar ethergram, Miss Duniway," grimaced Simon. "It's a long one."

  "I know," she laughed, "but I remembered a few things I just have to tell my cousin as soon as possible--it couldn't wait for the mail. I'll just have to be extra-careful with my money this month."

  A few things to tell her cousin--that was sure, or rather, her "cousin" had a few things to tell her. She'd had it with all the guessing; if DC knew anything more about the contaminated ore's effects, or what a plotter might possibly do with it, she needed to know if she was going to pin down the culprit--or even defend against him. Until then, she and John were going to track every piece of ore in and out of Simon Prake's office that they could. She and Misi would scout out the mines, and if Rabbit turned out to be able to "taste" the bad hermetauxite, he'd help too.

  "What does it taste like?" he asked her as he walked her home from school that Monday.

  "What does hermetauxite taste like to you in its natural form--do you taste it?"

  Rabbit wrinkled his nose. "It's not so much a taste as just…it's a draw, a need to be near. I suppose you could say it's a taste--a sensation for sure, but I wouldn't say on the tongue. I'm okay here in town and even up in the hills, but once Johnny and I tried to ride out to Barneyville, two days from town." He shook his head. "We only made it about a mile outside the strike. I had to turn back. Seems I'm stuck here. But t'ain't safe to speak of it, Miss Annabelle," he added, suddenly nervous. "What's the bad stuff supposed to taste like?"

  "Mi--my confederate says it tastes foul--nothing more specific, just like the worst taste you can imagine. Foul, disgusting. He only tastes it when he concentrates."

  "I do not concentrate on that stuff, nossir," said Rabbit. "I'm afraid if I went into it I wouldn't come out again."

  "You don't have to do this, Deputy."

  "Oh, no, I'll do it," he hastened. "I'll do it on account of what it did to my nephew. Don't want that happening to anyone else. Well, good day, ma'am." Rabbit tipped his hat and peeled off toward the mines, leaving Annabelle at the Hopewell.

  She ran up to her room, where she found Misi pacing the windowsill. "Pussycat, pussycat, where have you been?" she teased, scratching him between the ears.

  "Very funny. Not to see the Queen, that's for sure. Well, in a manner of speaking. She does live in a Palace. She was asleep, though."

  "Mamzelle?"

  "Yep."

  Annabelle took off her hat, poured water into the basin from the freshly-filled pitcher on the stand and washed her face and hands. "Listen, kid," Misi resumed, "the full moon begins tomorrow."

  "I know. Deputy Rabbit and his brother have been making preparations today. They've got prisoners, so I'm led to believe that he'll be making do in a cage in the basement of their house, with a large pile of timothy hay."

  "I don't care about that big gawk, I care about you!"

  Annabelle grinned and wiped her hands on the lace-edged towel hanging from the stand. "I'm touched, Misi!"

  "Listen," he said after a mortified pause, "if you got killed in a town full of hermetauxite, who knows who might catch me. I'd have a deuce of a time keeping myself from gorging on the stuff and then what'd happen to me? Better the master you know than the one you don't know. What if that ape Bonham got hold of me?" Misi puffed out his tail in horror.

  "No one's going to kill me."

  "I'm telling you Mamzelle is going to kill you!" he shrieked, jumping up and down on all four paws so hard he nearly fell off the sill. "Tomorrow night, or as soon as she's got you cornered! And then she expects me to kill Bonham for her, and then we're supposed to kill everyone else in this godforsaken hellhole--Annie, can't we just go away for three days? Say you've got a sick relative in Oro, or Barneyville--or anywhere?"

  "Between the two of us we can lick any demon out there, kitty," said Annabelle as she pinned her hat back on.

  "She's not 'any demon,' and where are you going?"

  "I've got a piano lesson with young Miss Bonham down at the LeFay, and then I need to finagle a tour of the BB."

  "The Big Blavatsky Mine? You gave your bracelet to the Sheriff, how're you going to know what's there?"

  "You're going to be my detector."

  "I don't follow. Bonham hates cats, he'd never allow you to take me along, like that'd make any sense anyway."

  "What's the smallest thing you can turn yourself into?"

  Misi considered. "I dunno. A mouse? No--a beetle. I can make myself into a beetle about the size of your thumbnail. Real pretty one, too, all iridescent--"

  "Perfect. Pretty doesn't matter, you'll be in my pocket or some such."

  "Oh!" said Misi, blinking. "That'd work, I guess. Well, when's this?"

  Annabelle picked up her reticule. "I don't know. I hope in the next day or two. All right, see you after dinner, kitty. You can go out or stay in by the fire, as you please. You can change if you'd like, but only if you stay in with the curtains closed and keep an ear out for the help, and that's an order."

  "Oooh, thanks!" said Misi with a foolish grin. He sobered. "Okay, here's a thought. You're friendly with that Sheriff now, right? You blew your cover?"

  "Not yours, though."

  "Good. If you won't leave, then tell him what Mamzelle plans to do. Then you'll at least have another gun in this fight. Is he a good shot?"

  "Pretty fair, but not with an etheric pistol."

  "You'd never give him one of yours anyway, doll." Misi jumped from the ledge and stood up in his half-human form. "Tell him. Maybe he can stop this whole thing before it starts."

  "And how am I to explain how I know this, when Bonham himself doesn't know?"

  Misi hugged himself. "I dunno. Maybe it's time to blow my cover."

  "I'd rather not. You're my ace in the hole as they say over at the Lucky Pint." With that, she waved and took her leave.

  Misi sighed, dropped into the chair and picked up the book Annabelle was reading; it was open to a story called "The Outcasts of Poker Flat" by some fellow named Bret Harte. "Won't be much of a hand if you're dead, lady," he muttered.

  Episode 46: The Piano Lesson

  Jedediah Bonham strolled into his son's hotel with his daughter's confiding little hand in his. The LeFay was understated for his tastes; too much white and not enough red, though the giltwork was nice and there was a great deal of gold bullion fringe on the draperies that he approved of. Someone--Miss Duniway, most likely--was running through a series of exercises on the piano several rooms away. He waved his fingers at Charles behind the front desk, and the man returned it with a respectful-enough if sour nod, followed by a genuine smile for the girl.

  "Hello, Charles!" chirped Lily. "Miss Duniway's going to teach me how to play the piano!"

  "So I've heard," replied the desk man. "She's in the salon. Best that piano's sounded since it got here."

  "Bring a coffee tray into the salon, Charles. Something to eat as well, something ladies like, eh, my little lady?" said Jed, looking down at his daughter. Lily giggled, pleased at being called a lady.

  Charles's expression said he caught Bonham's double meaning, but all that passed his lips was, "Certainly, Mr Bonham."

  Jed forgot him and let Lily drag him to the salon. He opened one of the double doors and stayed in its frame as Lily ran to the piano, almost hugging Miss Duniway in her excitement. "Please, please play more, miss!" cried Lily.

  "Very well," smiled Annabelle. She thumbed through the music on her stand, settled on something and began to play.

  A melancholy little waltz, thought Jed. Sounded foreign. Which might be a good thing in front of company at some classy event he might throw, but not what was tuneful to the ear, at least his ear. Not what he wanted to hea
r in his front parlor. He knew he should like it, it being probably some high-falutin' European racket, but he didn't.

  "Miss Duniway," he broke in at a brief pause, "do you know anything by Stephen Foster?"

  She lifted her pretty fingers off the keys. "Yes, of course. Forgive me, when last I had the use of an instrument I was making a study of Chopin. This is my favorite little waltz of his, the number ten in B minor…" She began thumbing through her sheet music again and replaced the drab waltz on the music stand with another sheet. "Will 'The Soirée Polka' do?"

  He would've preferred "Camptown Ladies" or "Old Black Joe," but he nodded. "Fine, that'd be fine." At least it wasn't some thin-blooded European plinkety-plink. He hoped she'd send Lily home with proper parlor music, not the plinkety-plink.

  "You've always had a soft spot for Foster, eh, Father?" came a voice at the door. Well, he should've expected Tony to turn up eventually. It was his hotel, after all, and he'd made a great show of making the piano's use a present to the Duniway girl. "Mother always sang 'I Dream of Jeannie' so prettily, do you remember that, Lily? Will you play, Miss Duniway? I should like to take my little sister on a spin round the floor."

  The cheerful, burbling polka trilled from the piano. Tony skipped Lily along in the dance, her blond curls bouncing; Miss Duniway looked up now and again from her music to smile at their capers. Jed was far from pleased. The polka finished up with a flourish of both performer and dancers.

  "Can you teach me to play that?" said Lily.

  "In time," answered the teacher. "In the beginning it's much more boring. Scales and exercises. But it's necessary," she added at Lily's little scowl. "You have to learn to crawl before you can walk and thence to run. And we will try to make it as fun as we can. Are we in agreement? For I will not be able to teach a student who does not wish to learn."

  "Oh, but I do wish to learn!"

  "Then sit down at my right hand, and we'll begin." Miss Duniway looked up at Jed and his son, standing expectantly before the piano. "Gentlemen, Lily and I are flattered that you wish to attend her lessons, but it is more efficacious to study if we are unobserved."

  "That means she thinks the lesson will go better if we leave, Father," said Tony, raising a brow but keeping his face forward.

  "I know what 'efficacious' means, thank you very much," snapped Jed. Sometimes he wondered whether he should have educated his sons at all, for all the good it did him. At least Tony could take care of himself, Jed admitted. How many times had he paid off his oldest boy Nathan's debts? Jed cleared the peevishness from his face if not his thoughts and smiled. "Of course, Miss Duniway. I'll fetch Lilly in an hour, then."

  "Oh, I can go home on my own, Papa!"

  Jed did his best to master his consternation. "I fear you might meet Amelia Prake along the way and forget the hour."

  "I'll walk her home, Father," said Tony. "I'm right here, after all, and I'm sure you have pressing business concerns to attend."

  In fact, Wrangle had been harassing Jed not half an hour before about some stack of Cherry's bills or other. If she kept up her ways he'd be poor as a greenhorn before he knew it. Well, not poor. Never poor. But he liked to keep his bank accounts in good trim--not trimmed. He would have to put that woman on an allowance.

  A thought occurred, and he smiled a genuine smile. "That'd be most kind of you, son. That'll give her a chance to take a small rest before dinner, and it'll give me a chance to escort Miss Duniway back to the Hopewell."

  "Oh, but Lily and I--" began Tony in an attempt to squeeze past his father again.

  "No, no, I'm sure your stepmother will be happy to see you, son. She'll insist you sit down to tea with her." If he didn't know how little Tony thought of his stepmother Jed would be worried how much she'd insist on it.

  "Tea," scoffed Tony under his breath.

  "That reminds me, Mr Bonham," said Miss Duniway. Both Bonhams straightened, until it became clear she meant Bonham the Elder, and Jed's smile spread. "I am deeply interested in the Big Blavatsky Mine operations. I know so little about mining, especially as it is the main business of the town, and I am told the Big Blavatsky is the most technologically advanced of the operations here."

  "That's the truth, Miss Duniway, all my operations are bang up to the mark, but the BB is the best of all of them. You'll not see a sweeter operation in these United States."

  "I'm afraid I wouldn't know the difference," she smiled, "but I'd enjoy learning."

  "We'll discuss the particulars when I escort you home, then," said Jed.

  The two men said their farewells to Lily, who was already poring over the mystifying markings on the sheet music; she waved vaguely and the Bonham men exited. Once in the foyer, Jed took a cigar from his coat pocket, offered it to his son, and at his refusal bit the end off and expertly spit it into a waste can beside the front desk. "Don't bother, son, I'll always cut you out if I want to. And I want to," he said, summoning a little flame from his lighter. "There's not a girl in the world I can't get, no matter how much charm you pour on."

  Tony turned a satisfying purple. "I doubt very much a woman like Miss Duniway would entertain the kind of suggestion you're intending."

  "Oh? What kind of suggestion were you intending?" retorted Jed.

  His son didn't answer. Instead he glared at the desk man. "Find Graham for me, Charles. I suddenly feel soiled."

  Jed watched him stomp up the stairs. He chuckled to himself as he walked through the great cut-glass doors of the LeFay onto the street, lit his cigar and headed over to Mamzelle's. So Annabelle wanted to see the mines. He had a place to start.

  Episode 47: Twinkle, Twinkle

  By the time the piano lesson was ending, Annabelle had a headache; Lily Bonham was a very bright child, but she was also a very indulged child. Luckily for everyone, indulgence did not encourage a native spite, but rather a native impatience, a desire to skip the preliminaries and move straight to the action no matter how important the preliminaries were.

  In this, Annabelle supposed, Lily resembled her father. Lily assumed sitting down at the piano and making her fingers look like they were playing would be enough to assume familiarity with the keyboard. Bonham was assuming familiarity without preliminaries, too--but with Annabelle herself, not the piano. That presented some serious difficulties.

  Annabelle had no illusions about the nature of Bonham's interest. She knew exactly how pretty she was and had used her looks to advantage many times before. But though she'd come perilously close in the past, she'd never dishonored herself and she didn't intend to start now. How long could she stave off Bonham's ultimate declaration? Would he give her enough time to finish the job? If he made his final move in the blunt fashion she guessed he would, she'd have few choices. Most of them involved gunplay, the next stage out of town, or both.

  A crash of notes brought her out of her brief rumination. "Now, Lily, let's not bang on the keys."

  "It's not fair, why can't I play a little song already? I've been practicing for an hour, shouldn't I be able to play a song by now?" she said, plucking at Annabelle's gray sleeve.

  "An hour in a lifetime's work, Lily. Playing an instrument requires dedication."

  "It isn't fair! I just want to play a song!"

  Annabelle put a hand over her charge's restless fingers. "I'm willing to let you try, if you do not expect to play 'The Soirée Polka' or anything like it. Agreed?"

  "Agreed!"

  Annabelle showed her note by note how to pick out "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." To her relief, the girl picked it up quickly, so quickly that when it came time for the lesson to end Lily was playing it with both hands--just the melody, repeated an octave lower, but far more progress than Annabelle had expected out of a first lesson. "Now, Miss Lily, you may play that tune as often as you'd like, but you must also do the scales and exercises I've given you as well. Can you do that? Your brother has assured me you may come here to practice daily, and you must practice daily to advance."

  "I will! I will!
I promise!" Just then the door to the salon opened and Tony strolled in. "Listen, Tony, I can play a song!" She plowed through her two octave performance, stumbling only twice, and her brother burst into appreciative applause.

  "Well done, Lil! Now, go see Charles and tell him to bring that coffee tray in." The girl trotted out of the room calling for Charles, and Tony shut the salon door behind her.

  "Please open the door, Mr Bonham," said Annabelle.

  "I wish you'd call me Anthony."

  "I wish you'd open the door, right this minute," she said in a firm tone. She had nothing to fear from him--she could throw him across the room if need be--but she had her reputation as a demure schoolteacher to consider.

  "Very well," he said, eyeing her as if she'd passed a test and he approved. She was expecting him to be disappointed. "I still wish you'd call me Anthony." Annabelle fixed him with a stern eye and opened her mouth to give him a set-down, but the arrival of Lily, Charles and the coffee tray interrupted her.

  Annabelle got no more than two sips of coffee and a tea cake when a loud voice and a lingering odor of cigar smoke heralded the return of Jed Bonham. "Well, now, and how did the lesson go, missy?" he said as Lily launched herself at him. The girl dragged him to the piano and made him stand attentively through three repeats of her one and only musical accomplishment before his fatherly patience gave out. "That's enough, sweetheart. We're going to have to send for a piano, hey?"

  "Oh yes, please, Papa, though it's fun to come to Tony's like this."

  "You can come here any time you like, peanut," said her brother.

  "She's very promising, Mr Bonham," smiled Annabelle.

  "Thank you," both men said automatically, then scowled at one another. "Take your sister home now, Tony," said Jed. "I'll escort Miss Duniway home."

  Annabelle let Jed help her into her coat, bid her pupil and Tony goodbye, and ignored Jed's surreptitiously proffered arm as they walked out of the LeFay and down the boardwalk toward the less lavish Hopewell. It was late enough in the year that dark was already falling. The nearly full moon hid behind low clouds that looked as if they might be bearing snow. Annabelle was glad of her wool coat and warm gloves.